#tw exploitation

[wilwheaton]

When you watch The Curse, you are watching two children who were abused and exploited daily during production. No adults protected us.

This was originally published on my blog in August, 2022.

I had a wonderful time at Steel City Comicon this weekend. It was my first time at this particular con, so I didn’t know there was such a huge contingent of horror fans, creators, and vendors who attend.

I love horror, and I was pretty psyched to be in the same place as John Carpenter and Tom Savini, across the street from the Dawn of the Dead mall. Pittsburgh feels like one of the places horror was invented, at least to me.

A number of these horror fans came to see me, and asked me to sign posters and other things from a movie my parents forced me to do when I was 13, called The Curse. I had to tell each of these people that I would not sign anything associated with that movie, because I was abused and exploited during production. The time I spent on that film remains the most traumatizing time of my life, and though I am a 50 year-old man, just typing this now makes my hands shake with remembered fear of a 13 year-old boy who nobody protected, and the absolute fury the 50 year-old man feels toward the people who hurt him.

I told this story in Still Just A Geek, and I’ve talked about it in some podcasts I did on the promo tour, but I’ve never put it out in public like this, in its entirety.

I suspect someone at the publisher would prefer I tease this and hope it drives book sales from people who want to read all of it, but I honestly don’t want to have another weekend like this one where everything is awesome, except the few times people who have no idea (and why should they) put that fucking poster in front of me, and all the fear, abandonment, and trauma come flooding back as I tell them that I won’t sign it, and why.

To their credit, each person was as horrified as they should have been, told me they had no idea (if they didn’t read my book why would they), and quickly put the poster away. They were all understanding. I am grateful for that.

But I really don’t need to tell this story over and over again, so here it is, with a child abuse and exploitation content warning, so I can just tell people to Google it.

After Stand by Me, everything changed. The attention from entertainment journalists, casting directors, and especially teen magazines came pouring in. The movie was a generational hit, beloved by critics and audiences alike, and every single one of us could pick anything to do next.

River’s parents and his agent got him Mosquito Coast, with Harrison Ford, as his next movie. I also auditioned for the role, but I knew even then that River was going to book the job. He was perfect, and I’d have to wait a little bit for my opportunity to come along.

I went on a lot of theatrical auditions after Stand by Me. I had tons of meetings with directors and the heads of casting at every major studio. It was all a very big deal, and I felt like we were all looking for something really special and amazing as my follow-up to Stand by Me.

At some point, a couple of producers contacted my agent with an offer to play one of the leads in an adaptation of H. P. Lovecraft’s “The Colour Out of Space.” The script was titled The Farm. (It would, of course, be changed when the film was released).

I read it. I did not like it. It was a shitty horror movie, and I saw that right away. It was the sort of thing you rented on Friday when the new release you wanted was already out of the store.

My mother, already an incredibly manipulative person, used every tool at her disposal to change my mind. My father threatened me, mocked me, told me “It’s your decision” when it clearly wasn’t. It was all so weird; I didn’t understand why they cared so much.

I told my parents I didn’t like it and didn’t want to do it. I clearly recall thinking it was a piece of shit that would hurt my career.

It wasn’t the first thing that had come our way that I wanted to pass on, and every other time, it hadn’t been a very big deal.

Sidebar: I was cast in Twilight Zone: The Movie, in 1983. The film tells four stories, and I was cast as the kid who can wish people into cartoonland. It was a GREAT role, in a movie I still love. (Note that Twilight Zone had four directors. One of them got three people killed. The segment I was cast in was not that one. I mention this because too many people zero in on this to deflect from what this whole thing is actually about.)

But I was CONVINCED by my parochial school teacher that if I worked on The Twilight Zone, which she had determined was satanic, I would go to hell. (This woman and her bullshit played a big role in my conversion to atheism at a young age, but when she told me that, I was all-in on the supernatural story they taught us in religion class.) I was so scared, more scared than I’d ever been to that point in my life, I cried and wailed and begged my parents to not make me do the movie. And I never told them why, because I was afraid my dad would laugh at me for being weak and afraid. My agent tried to talk me into it, and I wouldn’t budge. It’s the only thing I deeply and truly regret passing on, and I really hate I made that choice for such a stupid reason.

Okay. Back to The Curse.

This time, when I told them how much I hated it, they wouldn’t listen to me. My mother, already an incredibly manipulative person, used every tool at her disposal to change my mind. My father threatened me, mocked me, told me “It’s your decision” when it clearly wasn’t. It was all so weird; I didn’t understand why they cared so much.

That is, until they made me take a meeting with the producers of the movie, in their giant conference room on the top floor of a tall building in Hollywood. All I remember about this place was that it was huge; the table was way too big for the five of us who spread around it, and there were floor-to-ceiling windows on three of the walls, but the room was still dark. There was a weird optical illusion in the center of the table, this thing they sold in the Sharper Image catalog, made from two reflective dishes with a hole in the top of one. You placed an object in the bottom of the bottom dish, and it made it look like that object was floating above the whole thing. They had a plastic spider in it. What a strange detail for me to remember, but it’s as clear in my memory as if I were sitting in that room right now.

One man, who I presumed was the executive producer, was European or Middle Eastern (I didn’t know the difference then, he was just Not Like People I Knew), and I was instantly afraid of him. He was intimidating, and seemed like a person who got what he wanted.

So we sat there, my father who didn’t give a shit about me, my mother who was cosplaying as someone with experience, and me, thirteen years old, awkward as fuck, and scared to death.

I don’t remember what they said to me in their pitch or anything other than how uncomfortable and anxious I was to even be in that room. I tried so hard to be grown up and mature, but I — and my parents — was way out of my depth. I’d done one big movie and that was it. We didn’t have my agent with us, who had lots of experience and would have known what questions to ask.

No, in place of my experienced agent, my mother had decided she was going to be my manager, and she tackled the responsibility with an enthusiasm that was only matched by her absolute incompetence and inability to go toe-to-toe with producers the way my agent did. She was outwitted, out-thought, and outmaneuvered at every turn.

“You don’t have a choice,” my father commanded. “You are doing this movie.”

So we sat there, my father who didn’t give a shit about me, my mother who was cosplaying as someone with experience, and me, thirteen years old, awkward as fuck, and scared to death.

At some point, this man, who is represented in my memory by big Jim Jones sunglasses under dark hair above an open collar, said, “We are offering you a hundred thousand dollars and round-trip travel for your whole family. We will cast your sister, Amy, to play your sister in the movie.”

It all made sense, now. I was only thirteen, but I knew my parents were pushing me so hard because this company was offering me — them, really — more money than I’d ever imagined I’d earn in my life, much less a single job.

I knew that the right thing to do, the smart thing to do, was to say no. There would be other opportunities, and it was stupid to cash myself out of feature films for what I thought was, in the grand scheme of things, not very much money.

It’s incredible to me that I knew all of this. It’s incredible to me that I could see all these things, plainly and clearly, and my parents couldn’t (or, more likely, chose not to).

So after this man made his offer, all the adults in the room ganged up on me, selling me HARD on this movie.

My mother said, “Don’t you want your sister to have the same opportunities you’ve had? Wouldn’t it be fun and exciting to go to Rome? Think of all the history!”

The experience was awful. It was the worst experience I have ever had on a set in my life, by every single metric. The movie is awful, and it is the embarrassment I knew it would be.

I don’t think about this very often, because it’s super upsetting to me. Right now, I’m so angry at my parents for subjecting me and my sister to this entire experience. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

In that moment, I felt bullied and trapped. All these adults were talking to me at the same time, and I just wanted it to stop. I just wanted to go home and get out of this room. I just wanted to go be a kid, so I did what I’d learned to do to survive: I gave in and did what my parents wanted.

The experience was awful. It was the worst experience I have ever had on a set in my life, by every single metric. The movie is awful, and it is the embarrassment I knew it would be.

But here’s the thing: when you watch The Curse, you are watching two children, me and my sister, who were abused on a daily basis. The production did not follow a single labor law. They worked us for twelve hours a day, on multiple film units (while I work on First unit, second unit sets up and waits for me. When I should get a break to rest, they send me to Second unit, then to Third unit, then back to First unit. I was 13.) without any breaks, five days a week. I was exhausted the entire time. I was inappropriately touched by two different adults during production. I knew it was wrong, but I was so scared and ashamed, and I felt so unsupported, I didn’t tell anyone. I knew my dad wouldn’t believe me, and my mother would blame me. Anything to keep the production happy, that’s what she did. That was more important to her than the health and safety of her children. The director was coked out of his mind most of the time, incompetent, and so busy fucking or trying to fuck one of the women in the cast, he was worse than useless. He was a fading actor who was cosplaying as a director, as in over his head as my mother. My sister and I were never safe. Instead of harmless atmospheric SFX smoke, they set hay on fire in barrels and blew actual smoke onto the set. They took buckets of talc, broken wood, bits of wallpaper and plaster, and threw it into my face during a scene inside the collapsing house. My sister is in a scene where she goes to get eggs from some chickens, and they attack her. So they hired Lucio Fulci, the Italian horror master, to direct her sequence. His idea, which everyone was totally on board with, was to throw chickens at my sister. Live chickens, live roosters, live birds. Just throw them at a nine-year-old girl. Oh, and then tie them to her arms and legs so they’ll peck her. All of this happened under my mother’s observation, and with her full participation.

Everything I need to know about who my parents are is wrapped up in that experience: the total lack of concern for my safety and happiness, treating me like an asset instead of a son, lying to me, manipulating me, and using me to get things they wanted, and then gaslighting me about it.

If just ONE of the things I can remember happened to someone I loved, I would have grabbed my kids, gone to the airport, and flown home. Fuck those abusive assholes in the production. Let the lawyers sort it all out. Nobody hurts my children and gets away with it.

My mom says she “had some talks” with the producers. She claims that, once, she wouldn’t let us leave the hotel. (God, what a fucking dump that place was. It was just slightly better than a hostel.) I have no memory of that, but honestly the entire experience was so traumatic, I’ve blocked most of it out.

The movie was the commercial and critical failure I knew it would be. My parents spent the money. I don’t know what they spent it on. I got to keep fifteen cents of every dollar, so . . . yay?

My sister and I hardly ever talk about this. I suspect it was as upsetting and traumatic for her as it was for me. I told her I was writing about it, and asked her if she remembered anything. She told me she’d been lied to her whole life about this movie. Our mother let her believe she had been cast on the strength of her audition. “I was excited to work with you,” she said. She reminded me about some stuff I’d blocked out, including a scene where my character’s older brother (played by an actor named Malcolm Danare, who was kind and gentle, and made both of us feel safer when he was around) shoves my character into a pile of cow shit. When it came time to shoot the scene, the mud they’d put together to be the cow shit looked an awful lot like cow shit. When Malcolm pushed me into it, we all found out it was real cow shit. I was FURIOUS. The director had lied to me and had allowed me to have my entire body shoved into an actual pile of actual cow shit. I don’t remember what I said, but I remember he treated me the exact same way my father did whenever I got upset: he laughed at me, told me I was being too sensitive, reminded me that he was the director and he wanted to get a “real” performance out of me, and concluded, “If it bothers you so much, we’ll get you a hepatitis shot,” before he walked away.

My sister also recalled that, after she survived the scene with the chickens, it was the producers’ idea to give her one as a pet.

Okay, let’s unpack that for a quick second: you’ve been traumatized by these birds, so we’re going to give you one as a pet. That you’ll somehow keep in your hotel, and then will somehow get back to America. It will shock you to learn that neither of those things happened.

She remembered, as I do, the huge fight I had with my parents in our kitchen, where I told them I hated the script and I hated the movie. I didn’t want to do it, and I hated that they were making me do it.

“You don’t have a choice,” my father commanded. “You are doing this movie.”

“This is the only film you are being offered,” my mother lied to me. She made me feel like, if I didn’t do this movie, I would never do another movie again in my life. I had to do this movie. As my father bellowed, I had no choice.

Both of my parents denied this argument ever happened. Can I tell you how reassuring it is to know that my sister, who was also there, remembers it the same way I do?

The makeup department decided they would literally cut my little sister’s face with a scalpel, in three places, and put bandages over them.

But one thing she told me, the thing I did not know, the thing that makes me so angry I want to break things, actually managed to make the entire experience even worse than I remembered it.

There’s a scene after her chicken incident where I check up on her in her bedroom. She’s got cuts and bruises, and I guess we talk about it. I don’t remember and I can’t watch the movie because I’m terrified it will give me a PTSD flashback (I’ve had one of those and I recommend avoiding it). Here’s the thing about that scene: she has some cuts on her face, and those cuts are real. They are not makeup.

I’m going to repeat that. My nine-year-old little sister had actual cuts on her face that were placed there by an adult, on purpose.

The makeup department decided they would literally cut my little sister’s face with a scalpel, in three places, and put bandages over them. My sister told me our mother wasn’t in the makeup room when this happened — honestly, it seemed like our mother was strangely and conveniently absent when most of the really terrible things happened to us on the set — and when my sister told her what they’d done, she “lost her shit” at the production. She was pissed, I guess, which is appropriate and surprising. I wonder what would have to have happened for her to put us on a plane and get us home to safety? I mean, her son being abused daily didn’t do it, and her daughter being CUT IN THE FACE ON PURPOSE didn’t do it.

I just . . . I can’t. I can’t understand or comprehend allowing your own children to be physically and emotionally abused. They were literally selling my sister and me to these people, like we were some kind of commodity.

This was a tough conversation. My sister’s experience with our parents is very different from mine. My sister and I love each other. We’re close. I know it’s hard for her to hear that her brother, who she loves, was so abused by her parents, who she also loves. I was really grateful she made the time to talk to me about it, and grateful the experience wasn’t as horrible for her as it was for me.

As we were finishing our call, Amy also remembered one man, a young Italian named Luka, who was our driver for the movie. I haven’t thought about him in thirty years, but I can see his face now. He was kind, he was friendly, he taught us how to kick a soccer ball, and in the middle of an abusive, torturous experience, he stood out as a kind and gentle man. I mention him because she remembered him, which made me remember him, and goddammit I want at least one small part of this thing to not be awful.

The Curse remains one of the most consequential times the adults in my life failed to protect me. I’m 50. I still have nightmares.

Ultimately, as I predicted and feared, this piece of shit movie cashed me out of respectable films forever. I got offers for movies, but they were always mindless comedies or exploitative horror films. They were never the serious dramas I wanted to work in after Stand by Me. The industry looked at me and River, wondering if one or both of us would become a breakout star. They quickly saw that River was doing real acting work, and I was in this piece of shit. For River, Stand by Me was a beginning. For me, it would turn out to be pretty much everything, at least as far as film goes.

There are thousands of reasons film careers do and don’t take off. Maybe mine wouldn’t have taken off anyway. Clearly, it’s not where my life ended up, and I’m super okay with that now. But when all of this happened, it hurt and haunted me.

The Curse remains one of the most consequential times the adults in my life failed to protect me. I’m 50. I still have nightmares. Everything I need to know about who my parents are is wrapped up in that experience: the total lack of concern for my safety and happiness, treating me like an asset instead of a son, lying to me, manipulating me, and using me to get things they wanted, and then gaslighting me about it.

This annotation is the last thing I wrote before I turned this manuscript in, because opening these wounds is hard and painful. I put it off as long as I could, and I feel like I’m still holding back, because just this small glimpse of the experience has taken me a week to write. I can’t imagine trying to go back and unpack the whole thing. (Note that is not in the book: I’ve made an EMDR appointment to work on this because the nightmares have come back after the weekend).

Fuck The Curse, and fuck every single person who exploited and hurt two beautiful children to make it. You all participated in child abuse, and you all knew better. Shame on all of you. I hope this follows you to the end of your life. I hope that living with what you did to innocent children has been as hard for you as it has been for me, because you deserve no less.

[anonymouslydisabled]

this epilepsy awareness month I'm challenging parents of epileptic (and other seizure having) children to NOT post videos of their kids having seizures online. The only reason they should even be taking these videos in the first place is for medical professionals or if the child wants to see what their seizures look like. Posting a child during an active medical episode on the internet is exploitative and icky, find a better way to raise awareness.

[deke-rivers-1957]

Deke's Path To Peace

AN: I've had this story idea for a while now. I just can't look at Deke without thinking "this boy had trauma." If you have any requests feel free to send them in.

"Fire! Fire! Everyone out! Out!"

I wake up gaspin for air and see boys runnin out of the room. I don't even think before runnin too. I can smell the smoke but I keep runnin until I find some bushes to stop in. I can see the orphanage burnin to the ground. It's so horrible I start runnin again. I feel so scared that I don't even realize I'm in a cemetery. I trip on somethin and fall to the ground. I look up and see a tombstone.

"Deke Rivers: He was alone except for his friends who missed him."

There's somethin about it that connects to me. I didn't know who this Deke was but I feel that he and I were the same by bein as lonely as me.

"I'll find some friends. Maybe I can make your name a name worth rememberin."

I yawn and lay down right by his grave. I don’t want to be Jimmy Tompkins anymore. I’ll just bury him here and wake up as Deke Rivers.

"Good night, Jimmy Tompkins."

I look up at the sky and see a lot of stars. There's a very nice breeze that helps me fall asleep. The next mornin I wake up and realize I can't just stay here.

"Ok Deke. Time to find somethin to eat."

I find my way out of the cemetery and start walkin. After not even an hour I start feelin scared about bein lost. Then I see a sign.

"Next town 5 miles away."

I sigh then start walkin again. I'm feelin tired from not eatin.

"Hey now. Where did you come from son?"

I turn around and look spooked to see a man comin towards me.

"Where're your parents?"

I fidget with my hands a little.

"I. I don't have any."

"I see."

I find the courage to look up at him.

"Can I ask you somethin?"

"What?"

"Is this town far from the orphanage that just burned down?"

His eyes widen.

"Oh you're from un-incorporated Allen. This is Lucas. Such a shame the orphanage burned down. Everything's so chaotic nobody can tell if all the children made it out. All the records of those poor kids're gone."

I realize just how serious this fire was. I don't have anything to my name anymore.

"What's gonna happen to the kids who made it out?"

"They're all being sent throughout all of Texas. Allen simply doesn't the money to rebuild it."

I don't wanna go back to be sent away like all those other kids. I wanna stay here if I can.

"Do you have a place to go boy?"

"Yes I'm goin to my aunt's house."

"How far is it?"

I don't like lyin but I don't think I have a choice here.

"Oh it's not far. Just a few miles up the road."

"You mean up in Fairview?"

I nod but I feel very nervous. I don't want this man to ask anymore questions because that'd mean havin to lie more. My stomach starts growlin and I feel embarrassed.

"Alright. I'll tell you what. I'll buy you breakfast. Then you can go on your way."

I start smilin and nod my thanks.

"Thank you sir."

I follow him to a diner and he orders a plate of bacon and eggs for me. I really needed the food and it tastes way better than anythin. I ever had at the orphanage.

"Thanks again for the food."

"You're welcome. Good luck finding your aunt, kid."

I get out of my seat and wave as I leave the diner. As soon as I get outta his line of sight I start feelin nervous about what's gonna happen to me now.

Time Skip

The next 5 years have been rough. I'm I think 16 years old now and I've been wandering across Texas to avoid police puttin me back into the system. I've been livin on scraps and whatever spare change I can find. I'm just so lonely and want somethin to go my way.

"Well this equals 50 cents. I can probably buy somethin to drink."

I manage to find a bar and decide to head inside. I know it's run down but I don't have that many options.

"What'll it be boy?"

I try not to shudder at bein called boy since it makes me feel like I’m still a child at the orphanage. I just look at the bartender.

"Umm. I only have 50 cents. Do you have anythin inexpensive?"

"Yeah. I got something for ya."

"Thanks."

I look around the bar and nobody wants to deal with me. It's mostly older men drinking heavily. The bartender doesn't seem to mind me so I decide to take a seat and wait for my drink.

"Bottoms up kid. A club soda."

I look at the drink confused. I've never heard of a club soda and I don't even know if it's alcoholic. Either way, I'm thirsty and decide I might as well take a drink.

"Thanks."

I never tasted anythin like this but I'm still goin. When I finish I try to count my coins to pay for it.

"Ah don't worry about it. It's on the house."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah."

I'm not used to anyone bein nice to me. I'm actually a little suspicious of this bartender now.

"Well uh. Thanks again for the drink."

"Don't mention it. You're gonna get a lot more out of this soon enough."

I start to feel nervous but try not to show it. I try to leave the bar when I suddenly feel dizzy. As much as I try to keep my balance I end up falling to the floor and pass out. I don't know how long I've been unconscious but I wake up in a random bed.

"Ugh. Where am I?"

A man comes in the door and I feel scared again. I don't know where I am or what even happened. I don't want anyone to hurt me.

"Oh aren't you a cute one."

I start to shiver. I'm not used to having anyone compliment me. People usually ignore me.

"Listen doll face I get it. You're done on your luck and need money."

I just look at him as he's making me even more nervous.

"Well yeah. I do."

"Now believe me you'll be making a lot of it."

My heart starts beatin fast.

"You mean like a job?"

"Oh I wouldn't call it a job. You won't even need to do anything but look wonderful."

I don't feel any better after hearin that. What could he possibly mean by "looking wonderful"?

"Do you. Do you mean like a model?"

"You can call it that."

Even though I should feel relieved by that, I also feel a sense of helplessness. All I can do is accept my fate. I have nowhere else to go.

"Ok."

Time Skip

These were the worst two years of my life. This man broke me. I've been robbed of my youth and my innocence. I've had to do such unspeakable things just to have food to eat. Money doesn't even matter because I can't leave the house. What's worse is that no one even cared about my situation. Every man and woman I've been with didn't even care about me.

"Good news. The boss is going to meet with you."

I don't even say anythin as I'm lead to the boss' room. I have nothing in me anymore. The boss looks at me and I just know things are going to be worse.

"Your services are no longer needed honey. I'm letting you go."

Somehow I feel so frustrated. I've been nothing but this monster's sex slave. He made me think I was nothing more than a pretty face. Now I have nothing!

"This will get you to Missouri sugar. You can buy a guitar and use that pretty voice."

I look at the money. $50. That's all I'm worth?! Even though I take it I'm just so bitter.

"Just where am I supposed to go in Missouri?"

"Plenty of places to go in Kansas City doll."

Ah tense up but say nothing.

"Fine. I'll take my chances then."

I practically run out of the building. I don't even pay attention where I'm goin as I run. I'm just like I was about 11 years old: just runnin away until I end up lost in the middle of nowhere. That's when I stop to breakdown and cry. I just wasted so many years of my life only to be violated by everyone I've ever met. The only thing I can do's try goin to the police.

"Alright Deke. Time to man up and tell the police what happened."

I get up and try to find a police station. I'm lucky that one isn't too far away. I walk inside and see the officer at his desk.

"Um excuse me. I'd like to report a crime."

He takes the cigar out of his mouth.

"What's the crime?"

So I explain my whole story in full detail. I end up fallin into the chair and sob as I get up to what happened to today. The whole time, the policeman looks at me and puffs his cigar. Once I finish talking he sighs and looks at me with pity.

"We've had complaints before. This has been an ongoing investigation for the past couple years. The bar you mentioned unfortunately went out of business 6 months ago. Unless you know how to get back to the house you were in or any names you might've heard, there just isn't anything that we can do about it."

I look at him good and hard. He doesn't look like I'm a disgusting person for having experienced this.

“No. I can’t. I just ran off as soon as he said he was lettin me go. I didn’t pay attention to anythin like the address. I just wanted to get out of there as soon as I could.”

I feel like such an idiot. I look up at the policeman and take in his face. He genuinely feels terrible that I was hurt.

"Ok. Now what I can do is ask if you have any papers?"

"Papers? Oh. No. I don't have any papers sir."

The policeman groans and puts out his cigar.

"How old do you think you are now?"

"I guess I'm 18 years old."

He looks right at me.

"Of course you are. That's going to make this a little difficult."

He pulls out a blank birth certificate.

"Ok. We've had plenty of safe haven babies brought here without any papers. So my job's to make 'em papers so they can get stuff done in the world."

I just watch him get his pen ready.

"Why did you say that about my age?"

"Because unless you have proof of your age, you could still be viewed as being part of the system. So it's best I fill this out now while you still have ambiguity on your side."

"Oh. I guess it does make sense."

The policeman picks up his pen.

"So. Name?"

"Oh. Deke Rivers."

I watch him write it down. Him easily accepting that as my name on one hand feels great. On the other hand, I feel like I betrayed my birth parents by getting rid of the only thing I have of them. But I know I can't be holding onto that anymore. This birth certificate is how I can make a new start.

"Assumed date of birth?"

"Um. Let's go with July 7th, 1935."

The policeman writes that down. Somethin about that date just feels right.

"I know you're an orphan but do you have any clue on who your parents are?"

"No sir. All I ever had was my birth name."

He sighs.

"I'll have to put it down as unknown. As for place of birth, I'll have to put it down as right here in McKinney, Texas. You can get this registered with the state."

I can only nod. I'm just amazed that after all this time, I finally have paper to my name.

"There you go. I can take ya to the courthouse. That's where you get your state ID card. You'll need that for a lot of things in life."

"Oh. Yes sir!"

I start to feel hope that my life is finally coming together. I follow the policeman to his car.

"By the way, do you feel like you need to go to the hospital from what happened?"

I really think about it. I think about doctors and nurses pokin me. Then I shake my head.

"No sir. I think I'll be ok. Thank you for helpin me get my papers situated."

He nods and drives me to the courthouse. I walk with the policeman up to the man at the counter. By the time we finish all the paperwork, it's 8 pm and I'm hungry. The policeman drives me to a bus station and hands me a sandwich.

"Here you go, Deke. This'll hold ya over while you wait for the bus to Kansas City."

"Thank you sir."

I start to eat the sandwich and I almost cry. It's a warm BLT with the perfect amount of mayonnaise. I'm so thankful that this nice officer's taking his time to stay with me until the bus arrives. It makes me feel so cared for.

"Well there's your bus."

I look up and see the bus stop.

"Thanks again for the sandwich."

I shake the policeman's hand.

"Good luck Deke. I really mean it."

I smile and mouth thank you as I go to board the bus.

"One way trip to Kansas City, Missouri."

I nod and pay my bus fair. The doors close behind me as I take a seat at the back of the bus. It's gonna be a long trip and I wanna get some sleep. I don't know what I'll do once I get there but for now I'll just get some sleep.

Time Skip

"Hey pal get up. It's the end of the line."

I yawn and stretch as I wake up. I can't believe I slept through the bus ride all night. Now I'm scared of what I'll do next. Either way I have to get off the boat and count how much money I have.

"$45. At least it's somethin. I can get breakfast now."

It's just my luck that there's a diner just down the street. I step inside and take a seat in a booth. A waitress hands me a menu.

"Passing through stranger?"

"Uh no ma'am. I'm plannin on makin a new start here."

She pulls out her notepad and pencil.

"Now then what can I get ya honey?"

I close the menu.

"Well uh what do you recommend?"

"We have a steak and egg special for only $3.99. It's your choice of egg and comes with a side of hash browns and a fruit bowl."

I think it over and it sounds like a reasonable amount of food for only $3.99.

"Alright, I'll have that then with sunny side up eggs."

She writes it down on her note pad.

"What do you want to drink?"

"Just some coffee please."

She pours me some coffee and sets down some cream.

"Be out in a minute darlin."

She takes the menu and I try not to shudder at the pet names. I'm not in that house anymore.

"Order up."

I look up when I hear the bell ding. My waitress comes up to me with my food.

"Enjoy your meal. You can pay when you're ready darlin."

She sets my bill down and pours some more coffee.

"Thanks ma'am."

She walks away and leaves me with my food. I start with my steak first. Somethin tells me I'm gonna need the protein. I take a look at my bill as I eat and I see that it's only $4.75. I try to figure out what I oughta tip my waitress and decide to use a $5 for the bill. That'll give me a quarter in change and I can just use that with $1 as her tip. This is the first time I've ever had to figure out a tip so I hope what I'm giving her's enough.

"Uh ma'am here's the money for my bill. Keep the change."

"Thank you. Hope you come again."

I nod as I go back outside. I wander the streets for a couple hours and try to give the appearance of knowing where I'm going. I stop at the crosswalk and see a pawn shop across the street. There's a guitar up for sale in the window. I cross when it's safe to do so and talk to the owner.

"Excuse me sir, I saw that guitar in the window. How much is it?"

"Well how much ya got?"

I don't like havin to lie but I really need to save my money in case I can't get a job right away.

"I've only got $5."

"Tell ya what. If you watch the store while I'm out to lunch, I'll let you have it free. It's a wooden piece of junk so I was about to throw it away. You'll be doing me a favor."

My eyes widen. I'm gettin a good deal. I look around the store and feel that it's safe enough to watch it alone.

"Ok I can do that. Thank you, sir."

"Alright pal we got a deal. I'll be back by 1."

I smile as I go behind the counter. The owner leaves and I'm alone in the store. I count how much money I have after the breakfast and realize I have $35 left. I put it away and try to figure out how to make it last as long as possible. I hear the door open and see the owner come in.

"Well the place ain't burned to the ground. I'd say ya filled your end of the deal. Any customers come by while I was gone?"

I smile as I come out from behind the counter.

"No sir. I came a close eye on things the whole time. Nobody came by."

"Alright then the guitar's yours. If you wanna make it a career your best bet's to start with the Country Club Plaza. It's one of the hottest places in town."

I grab the guitar and shake his hand.

"Thank you for the advice, sir. I'll be on my way then."

I walk out of the pawn shop and try to find my way to the Country Club Plaza. Along the way, I become a street performer so I can build up some money. By the time I get to the Country Club Plaza, I end up having a total of $50.

"Alright, Deke. Time to give it your best shot."

I walk inside to try talking with the owner.

"So you're a guitar player?"

"Yes sir I am."

He looks through his papers.

"I have an afternoon group coming in a half hour. You get one song as an audition for the opening act. If I like what you do, we can talk about your pay in my office."

"Thank you sir."

I go backstage and start to practice my best material. I'm still not the greatest guitar player, but I make up for it with spirit.

"And now ladies and gentleman. Before we start our main show, I'm auditioning a new act for one song. Let's give a round of applause for Deke Rivers."

He turns to me as if to say "you're on kid." I get on stage and look out into the audience. I start to sing one of the only songs I know. It's a very lively song that the audience mostly loves. I can barely hear someone saying I'm not Hank Williams but I don't feel discouraged.

"Bravo, bravo."

I'm glad the audience loved my song, but the owner comes up to me not looking happy at all. He drags me backstage and grabs my guitar.

"Get out!"

"But. But they liked my song."

He starts pushing me out the door.

"I will not be having this devil's music in my club!"

I try to get my guitar back but he keeps it out of my reach.

"Get out! Get out! Get out!"

I end up outside on my butt as the owner closes the door. Once again, I've been rejected just when I thought I found the right job. I sit down at the nearest bench. I know I still have $50 but that can't possibly last forever.

"Excuse me son."

I look up and see a man come up to me.

"Yes sir?"

"I was in the audience during your song. I'm very sorry about getting kicked out like that."

I can only sigh.

"You don't need to be sorry. I wish I knew what I did wrong with the owner."

"Yes I didn't want to rub it in. What I did want to do is offer you a job."

I don't want to get my hopes up but I look up at him.

"As a singer?"

"Well no. Not as a singer."

I sigh and rub my face. I start talking to myself when I hear the man sigh.

"I know a guy in St. Louis who works at a junkyard. He's been complaining about an old Ford Model A taking up space. If you're up to it, I can send a telegram that you'll help him."

I look up at him and see that he's serious.

"Oh. Yeah. I. I can help with that the best I can."

"Splendid. I believe Howie's willing to give it to you if you can fix it."

My eyes widen at that. I've never had a car before. If Howie does want to give it away, I'd love to have it.

"I'd love to do it. Do you have the address?"

"Oh yes I'll write it down. By the way do you have money to get there?"

I realize that things went wrong by lyin. So I decide to tell him the truth even if it means not havin as much money.

"I have about $50. Will that be enough to get to St. Louis?"

"Oh yes. The train can take you there easily."

He hands me a piece of paper with the address.

"Thank you sir. I really appreciate it."

"No problem at all. I best be on my way to send that telegram. Good luck."

I watch him leave as I decide to take the chance and call for a cab. I just hope my luck will change for the better.

Time Skip

As soon as I get to St. Louis, my boss Howie's already waiting for me at the train station. Even though I never met him until now, he's holding a sign with my name on it.

"Hi. Are you Howie?"

"That's right. Are you Deke?"

I shake his hand.

"Yes sir. I appreciate this offer."

"I have lunch at the junkyard. My car's just outside the station."

I nod and follow Howie outside and get into his car. The drive to the junkyard wasn't long at all. I immediately get to work after eating lunch. Even though I don't have any experience working on cars, Howie's surprisingly very patient with me. After only a couple weeks, I managed to get the hang of going through the trash.

"Deke I'm taking stuff to the scrapyard. You're on break while I'm gone."

"Thanks Howie."

He drives off with the truck while I spend my break drinking a coke. I look over the Model A when a couple garbagemen come in and unload some trash.

"Howie off to the scrapyard again?"

"Yeah. He just left about 5 minutes ago."

They look over my work.

"How's the car coming along?"

"It's comin along. I still got a long ways to go, but I hope I'm gonna get it runnin at some point."

They start gettin back in the truck.

"Well you know what to do. Good luck."

"Thanks. I'm sure I'll get it done soon enough."

They leave and I get back to the shed for some tools. I hear Howie come back and I see him holding a bag.

"Eat up, Deke. We got a lot to look through today."

I grab a sandwich out of the bag.

"Thanks for the sandwich Howie."

I start eating while I look over the pile of trash that we need to get through. I can tell by lookin at it, this is gonna take a while.

"Well Deke what do you think?"

"I think there's gotta be somethin we can use for the car here. We just gotta keep diggin through this pile until we find it."

When we finish our sandwiches we open up the first trash bag.

"Alright be careful now. Can't have you getting tetanus."

"Oh yeah I'll be careful."

By the time the sun goes down we manage to get through the entire pile. Howie goes into his office while I wipe the sweat off my face.

"Alright Deke it's pay day. Come get your cut."

I walk into the office as he hands me some money.

"We had a great week with the scrapyard. Made a lot of money on the metal."

"Thanks Howie. Today was a pretty good day. I found a couple spark plugs and some hoses too. Maybe if we fix them, we can use it for the Model A."

"Alright then we can work on it tomorrow. I'll see you in the morning. You know where the key is."

I wave as I go to the garage and grab the key to my room. Thanks to Howie lettin me stay here, I've been able to save another $20. Even though it's only a wooden shed with nothing but a cot in it, I'm very thankful to have this room at all. This has been my best job yet. Maybe I can dream about driving a Model A. Either way as soon as I lay down I fall asleep.

"Bang. Bang. Bang."

I wake up early the next morning to Howie knocking on my door.

"Deke there's a storm coming. We gotta get the car into the garage."

"Alright I'll try gettin it into neutral."

I go over to the Model A and try to start the ignition. I managed to get it done.

"Howie I got it!"

"Good now keep the wheel steady while I push."

Since the garage isn't that far we easily manage to get the car into the garage.

"Howie I'm nervous about shuttin it off now. The engine sounds like it's runnin perfectly for once."

Howie listens to the Model A as it runs.

"I'd shut it off so we can work on the brakes after breakfast. Once this storm passes we can give it a test run to the gas station."

"Alright I'll shut it off. I can't believe we're this close to gettin this car fixed."

I shut off the engine. It sounded good shutting off so me and Howie rush back to his office for breakfast.

"I think this storm should pass soon. A heavy rain like this usually does."

"How do you think the brakes'll work if we drive it today?"

Howie thinks it over as he makes some eggs.

"I'll take it slow on the brakes. If it can't handle wet conditions it'll start to skid."

I nod as he hands me a plate.

"Thanks. I'm so excited that we might've actually done it."

"I get it. You spent a lot of time helping me work on it. It's always worth the effort if you can get it to work."

As soon as we finish eatin the sun starts to come out.

"Alright Deke grab a towel. We need to make sure the brakes are as dry as possible."

I put the plate in the sink and grab a ratty towel as we head back out to the garage. As soon as we make sure the brakes are dry, Howie gets in the driver's seat.

"Get on in. I'll take her to the gas station and see how she runs."

I climb into the passenger seat. Howie starts the ignition and I'm relieved to hear it start smoothly again.

"That's a good sign."

"Now let's test this on the open road."

Howie starts to drive us to the gas station and back. The whole time I'm shakin like a leaf. When we make it back to the junkyard, Howie turns off the engine.

"Well Deke you did it. She runs like a dream."

I start beamin.

"You really think so?"

"Sure. For this car's age it's as smooth as can be. So long as you don't slam on the brakes, there's not a thing wrong with it."

I can hardly believe it. I actually fixed this car. I did it.

"Now then I have a question for you."

"What is it?"

"Do you have a driver's license?"

I start to feel very nervous. I hope this isn't a trap but I have to be honest since honesty got me this job.

"No sir. I never had the chance to get one. Do I need anythin outside of an ID to get one? I have one from Texas if that helps."

"Alright then I'll help you get one. After all you're gonna be keeping this car."

I look up at him.

"You mean it?"

"That was our deal. You fixed the car so you get to keep it. You saw that I have plenty of cars here already. This is just taking up space."

I shake Howie's hand.

"Thank you. I'll do my best."

"That's all I can ask for Deke."

After many months I finally get my driver's license. Howie let me drive us back to the junkyard after buying me dinner and takes me to his office.

"Well Deke, I'm gonna have to let you go."

As much as it's sad to be jobless again, I feel good this time. Howie's done so much for me. I knew this job was only temporary and managed to make the best out of it.

"I understand. Thank you for everythin, Howie. There is just one last thing I wanna ask you."

"Oh? What is it?"

"Is there anyway you can help me last the winter? I only have $120 saved and I don't know where to go next."

Howie thinks before countin out some money.

"All I can do is give you, your final cut of the scrapyard trip totaling $30. I also have an address for a motel at the edge of town. I know it isn't much but it's a start. I'll even let you stay the last night here so you won't be wandering around in the dark."

I take the money.

"Thank you so much."

I wave as I go to the shed one last time. I’m gonna miss this place but I know Howie’s done his best. That’s all I can ever ask for as I fall asleep in my cot one last time.

Time Skip

When I leave the junkyard after my last free breakfast, I buy a road map and get a room at the motel.

“Alright Deke. Time to figure out how to get back to Texas by car without dyin.”

After spendin 2 days at the motel, I figure out a rough idea on where to go. I also decide to take the financial hit and get myself some new clothes.

“Excuse me how much would it cost for a couple shirts, jeans and these shoes?”

The man behind the counter rings it up.

“That’ll be $15.”

I sigh since it could’ve been worse. I pay him the money and immediately put it in a bag.

“Have a good day.”

“Thanks you too.”

I head back to my car and start driving south. I’m already down to $100 and I haven’t even left St. Louis yet. It's not the most ideal situation, but I gotta sleep in my car if I can. Food wise I’m managin to get by. I get somethin to eat when I stop for gas.

“What’ll it be man?”

“I’ll take some chili if you got it.”

The man takes out a metal bottle and pours some in.

“This here’s a thermos. It’s reusable so you can keep it when you’re done with the chili.”

“Sounds good. How much?”

“$5.”

Only $90 left but if this keeps hot things hot I’ll need it.

“I’ll take it.”

I give the man the money and he gives me the thermos. I head back to my car start driving again. Once it gets dark I try to park where I’ll be covered from any snow.

“Ok let’s try this chili.”

I open the thermos and somehow I can see steam comin out. I take a drink and realize it’s still warm.

“Wow. This’ll keep me warm for a while.”

And it did at least for tonight. The next few nights I wasn’t as lucky. One night there was such a horrible storm that I thought I was going to die.

“It’s ok. You’ll get through it. You’ll get through it.”

I end up bein just fine. As soon as I get to Texas I end up in a small town called Delville. It’s not McKinney or Fairview but I’ll take it. I find that I have about $5 left and decide to spend it on food. Now that it’s spring and I’m in Texas I don’t need to worry about stayin dry.

“Howdy all.”

I turn and see a short chubby man come in just after I find a table.

“Howdy.”

He turns to me and sits down at my table.

“Ah ain’t seen ya round these parts. What’re ya here for?”

“I just came back from a long trip up north and I'm just tryin to get myself situated. Is that alright?”

“It sure is. Can’t help but check out the swingin antique outside.”

I look outside and see that he means my car.

“Oh that’s mine. I got it up north in St. Louis a while back and I just spent a few months fixin' her up, bringin' her back here. It took awhile, but I managed to get 'er fixed up real good.”

“Ya mean that’s yer car? Shoot ya got a pretty good deal then.”

After talkin with this man while we eat I start to feel comfortable around him.

“Mah name’s Teddy by the way.”

“My name’s Deke.”

We shake hands.

“So where do ya plan on stayin Deke?”

“I don't know. I didn't really have a plan for that. I was just gonna figure somethin out. You live around these parts?”

He gestures up the road.

“Sure do. Ah work for the Highway Brewery Company.”

“Wow. For how long?”

“Been workin there the past 5 years. It’s a livin and ya get to travel all across the county.”

That sounds like fun to me. Maybe this is how I can make friends like Teddy. I see him look at the clock.

“Well time to start walkin home. Ah got work in the mornin.”

“Oh. Yeah I gotta get goin to.”

The waitress comes by with the bill and I start to pull out my $5.

“Ah don’t worry about the bill. It’s on me.”

“You don’t mind payin?”

“Heck no. You’re the first guy that’s really listened to mah chatter since Ah’ve been comin here so it’s the least Ah can do.”

Teddy looks at the bill and goes to pay it.

“Thank you, Teddy. This ain't somethin' I'm used to.”

“No problem.”

We head outside and I see Teddy startin to walk home. I realize I can’t do that when he’s paid for me.

“Hey, Teddy, wait up a minute.”

“Yeah what’s up Deke?”

I take a deep breath and sigh.

“I was just wonderin if you would let me drive ya home. You got your job and everything, and I don't wanna disrupt that. And it’s the least I can do when you paid for me.”

“You’d really do that? Well if you’re sure then alright.”

We get in the car and I start drivin him home. By the time I find his house it’s too dark to really see anythin.

“Hey thanks for the lift. Now since it’s so late and all Ah was thinkin that ya should just room wit me. Ya don’t have anywhere to go so it’d be wrong for me to let ya be wanderin round by your lonesome.”

I admit I gotta agree with that.

“Ok you’re right. I appreciate ya lettin' me stay with ya.”

He gets out of the car and starts to open his door.

“Now Ah know it’s gonna be small so Ah hope ya don’t mind sharin a bed.”

“Oh, that's no problem for me at all. As long as it's a roof over my head, I'll be more than grateful.”

We head inside and Teddy’s right about it bein small. But it’s still bigger than the shed at Howie’s junkyard. I look up and see Teddy takin off his shirt. Suddenly I’m not in his bedroom anymore but in… that room…

“Deke? Ya awright? Why were ya lookin at me like ya saw a ghost?”

I shake a little and see Teddy in front of me again.

“Yeah. Sorry I was just reminded of somethin.”

“Oh Ah don’t sleep in the buff if that’s whatcha mean. Jus had to change outta mah work clothes.”

He lays down in bed.

“You got anything to change into Deke?”

“Oh. No these are my sleepin clothes. The only other clothes I got are my business clothes so to speak.”

“Awright then. Ya wanna take off your shirt go head. Ah don’t mind.”

I know Teddy doesn’t mean what I think he means but I can’t help but feel a shiver. I take off my shirt and lay down with my back turned to him. I just can’t handle him starin at me like they back-

“Hey man why ya so tense?”

I take a breath and slowly turn my head.

“Sorry I just ain’t used to this sorta thing.”

“What do ya mean?”

I take a full look at Teddy and realize he just doesn’t think somethin awful like what I’m about to say can ever happen. So I tell him in a way that he can understand.

“Oh. Ah think Ah’m puttin together what yer sayin.”

I can’t even look at him. I’m so used to bein judged and I just know it’s gonna happen.

“Well Ah’m just a normal guy Deke. Ah ain’t gonna be touchin ya while ya sleep.”

I look up at Teddy and for some reason I believe him.

“Yeah. I know. I was just rememberin what happened back then.”

“Ah think Ah get it now. Just try calmin down so ya fall asleep.”

I start by layin down next to him. After takin some deep breaths I feel myself dozin off. I think bein with Teddy helped me out because I wake up curled against him. I start to feel scared when I hear him wakin up.

“Mornin Deke.”

He gets up as if nothin happened.

“Morning.”

“Listen Ah gotta get to work. Yer free to whatever’s in the fridge for breakfast.”

I sit up and put my shirt back on.

“Alright thanks.”

“No problem Deke. Where do ya plan on workin?”

I remember that I never figured that out myself.

“Oh. I was thinkin of lookin around town after breakfast and see what’s open.”

“Awright then. See ya later.”

I wave as Teddy leaves to go to work at the Brewery. I make good on trying to get a job and look around town before heading home. I figure that if I’m gonna stay here I should at least make dinner.

“Deke Ah got good news for ya.”

I look up from the stove.

“Really? What’d you hear?”

“Tomorrow ya got a meetin wit mah boss.”

I turn the gas off so I don’t burn myself.

“Your boss?”

“Yeah Ah took yer car today and the boss liked it so much Ah told em it was yours. Gives the company a classic look. So he said he wanted to meet wit ya tomorrow.”

I can barely stand so I sit down in the chair.

“Y-You really got me a meeting with the boss… over my car…?”

“All ya gotta do is drive us to the brewery and go to the boss’s office.”

I can’t even believe it that Teddy managed to make it happen for me. I hope it’s not some type of trick.

“Thanks a million Teddy. You did me a real favor.”

“Ah don’t worry about it. It ain’t like you ain’t returnin the favor makin me dinner like this.”

I look back at the stove top.

“Oh.”

I get out of my chair and finish cookin. After makin two plates I sit back down at the table.

“Thanks Deke.”

We start eatin and I ponder how this will work out. In the end it ended up bein exactly what I needed. Even though it was a bumpy road I made a good friend in Teddy. I end up meetin a nice girl named Susie and become one of the biggest names in the music industry. Lookin back I know I had a sad, horrible beginning but now I finally lived up to the name Deke Rivers. I can sleep peacefully now as all of the pain I experienced is gone. Finally I’m at peace.

Tagging: @arrolyn1114, @peskybedtime, @smokeymountainboy, @vintagepresley, and @thelonelyheart.

[murderluv23]

Go OFF, King!!

This song was so fucking sick! What a hype send off! Ahh! Look at my baby knowing his worth. Also, super fucking funny Mammon didn't pick up on the fact this was about him. SO in line with bastards like him. Ozzie popping in to spell it out was gold.

What. A. Badass. Fizzarolli looks THIS Mammon in the face and doesn't flinch an inch and stands his ground. Kissing the ground this jester walks on. Also, obviously, sick form from Mammon.

Ozzie backing Fizz up like the king he is. Love him.

This is literally just me with Fizz this whole episode and overall. Except I'm not abusing him for profit and never will. Fuck you, Mammon. You're lucky you look like a cuddly Christmas tree.

HE'S SO DAMN PRECIOUS!!! GHGFJGXD SDDFDF!!! HELP!

Overall, I really love what this episode did. Delving into celebrity culture and it's toxic enforcement of perfection on the individuals involved. The entitled fans who become parasocially attached and get it into their heads they own their idols. I really felt for Fizz this episode and it made me love him so much more for many reasons. The entire time I was audibly telling this sweetie that he's more than enough and sacrificing his well being isn't worth it. God, his panic attacks were so real. I've had that shit of overthinking my impressions on people and going into a frenzy. And it's not fun. I figured there'd be plots like this with Fizz and I wasn't disappointed.

I just wish we had more with his relationship with Mammon so that this last song felt even more rewarding. As always, I feel the show is held back by how much it focuses on Stolitz and not other threads and characters. But again, this episode was still fucking phenomenal.

Fizzarolli is at the top of my list of favorites, even more officially now. Sorry, Stolas. Sit the fuck down. These last two episodes have done his character MASSIVE favors! And I can't wait for more Fizzarolli content. I need that shit like I need air.

I seriously hope Fizz doesn't completely abandon the jester aesthetic. Love that detachment from stardom for him- but, ah! I love the jester theme for him too much! Fingers crossed. Also, Fizz is such a fucking theater kid. Lmao.

Bonus:

Spider Blitz! Spider Blitz!

[enby--ghost]

TW: talk of child sexual exploitation and grooming

this has been on my mind again recently, so i figured i'll use it as an opportunity to try and warn other folks. If you are exploring your sexuality, please do it through safe means. I found myself attracted to boys when i was around 12, and i would go on chat sites to try and figure out if i was or not. A lot of adult men, many of whom knew i was underage, took advantage of me and got inappropriate pictures, videos, and conversations from me. This sent me down a path of feeling like this was ok, because i was initiating it. I was taken advantage of by men and women both, who would get what they wanted and leave. This lead to me feeling like i was only valuable to people in a sexual sense. I don't know if this is considered assault or exploitation or whatever, but i do know this is a WARNING. Please, I beg of you, DO NOT explore this way. This messed up my mental health in ways i still don't fully understand, and made it easier for someone later on to take advantage of me again. There are infinitely better resources online for this stuff. I don't want anyone to go through this. Be safe online, everyone

[slaughterlocked]

@bravevolunteer / from here.

MICHAEL EARNS LESS OF HIS FATHER’S SYMPATHY WHEN HE CRIES.  When he’d been a boy,  William might have held him close  ( if he’d been around to even see him cry ),  dust off his cheeks,  firmly promise him he would be alright.  As it stands,  William stares at his son now,  the monster,  the wolf,  and feels nothing but a very distant sense of pity.  Michael looks pathetic,  sniveling and bloodied,  figurative tail tucked between his legs.

“ Christ. ”  Is all he mutters at first,  and,  luckily,  there’s a bucket on hand.  Without another word,  he pushes it towards his eldest,  eyeing him with the air of a disappointed teacher.  They’re similar  –  bloody and violence and monstrous  –  and somehow Michael finds new ways to make William stifle the urge to roll his eyes or yell.  You’re alive and you’re special and you’re helping me more than you ever did before.  Isn’t that something ?  Shouldn’t Michael be on his hands and knees, fucking groveling in gratitude to him ?

A wave of irritation washes over him,  but William permits his son the dramatics.  He moves back,  crouches to his level.  As a child, he’d loved a street dog,  a scruffy thing that whined more than it fought and bit more than it befriended.  Dealing with wild animals is more natural to him than fathering.  In a way,  he loves Michael more when he’s transformed:  at least the wolf is easier to deal with than the wreck his son is now.

“ You’re alright. ”  It’s a pointless platitude.  Surely Michael knows that.  William’s hands raise,  almost pacifying,  keeping his voice low and level.  If Michael can’t find calm,  then William will demonstrate it,  guide him to steadiness.  A lifeboat for a drowning man,  if the lifeboat had also been the one to hold him under the waves in the first place.  “ It’s only a natural progression of things,  Mike.  You must have known – ”

For once,  he cuts himself off,  saving his science and his explanations for later.  Instead,  he sighs,  and very,  very slowly  ( he’s not afraid,  he tells himself,  not of Michael )  inches closer to his son.  “ Shh,  there you go, ”  he murmurs,  “ just breathe. ”  The vials of remnant clink gently together in the bag slung over his body,  as he brushes it aside to crouch awkwardly low next to him.  Ignoring the vials for now  –  though excitement stirs deep in his gut at the reminder of the progression in his work –  William does his best to exude something akin to comfort. He supposes it’s the least he can do.  " You're not hurt, are you? "

[thecanadianweeb]

i hate capitalism so much, it profits off of people's and animal's suffering and death. like if a bigoted form of it existed i feel like we'd literally be exploited everyday and used until we have nothing and left out to rot.

sorry if this is too harsh, i might have become corrupted.

[crechi]

i stare at the illustration, panicking for half a second. stress wells up in my throat, but i run my hand through my hair and sigh. i'm not the one bleeding out. i have no time to stagnate in my own inconsequential sympathy.

i crouch down, then turn the paper around to show you. ｢you've died.. either for information or satire.｣

i watch as you quickly process the grief of realizing your days were probably spent delivering letters of similar importance, tears beginning to slide down your face.

｢oh.. th-thank you.. sir.｣ you croak, dejected.

i sigh, then click my tongue to regain your attention. i smile softly; as best as i can manage watching a sad, defeated child die. ｢is a noble task.. delivering letters like this, to help someone learn.｣ you look up at me, listening intently. ｢you've probably delivered hundred of letters, right?｣ you nod.

｢then you've likely helped many people.. you've spread knowledge and made it possible for others to study, so that they may perfect their crafts. is a very honorable assignment..｣

you stare at me, your expression flooded with hope tinged with desperation. ｢really..?｣

i shrug, attempting to steal my nerves over the devostating scene. ｢in my eyes, certainly.｣

you think for a moment, looking down at the grass. you smile. ｢thank you.. a-again, mis-ster.｣

i nod, my face expressionless as my emotions whirl inside me. ｢of course, lad.｣ i don't appreciate my own voice's steadiness compared to your frail, stuttering one; the strength in it had never felt undeserved until now.

i reach out to your arm, hovering my hand over it. ｢may i touch you?｣ i ask. once you give me the okay, i carefully pick you up and hold you on my lap. i let you rest on my chest, hoping my hug to be comforting despite me being a stranger.

you don't reply, likely not having the strength to anymore, but i can feel as your once prominent tremors fizzle out, and you relax.

while your blood soaks into my shirt, i seethe. you spent your entire life wishing to be useful, to be told that you were worth it, and it's only at the end, by the word of a stranger and under happenstance, that you are given it.

your superiors didn't care about you. physically and emotionally, they left you to suffer.

you shift, weakly raising your head, and distracting me from my thoughts. your body, entirely limp as you're moments away from erasure. you can't manage a smile, unable to focus enough to move your face, you weakly whisper your third ｢thank you｣. i hold back the despair coursing through my body, and nod. ｢you're welcome, dear.｣

your nerves go dim and silent, and the blood in your veins stills. i sit there in the grass, crying in grief for a child whose name i don't know; and for all the children left to suffer, whose names i'll never know.

the people who did this to you will suffer, ten times the amount that you have. they will know the hopelessness and existential insignificance that i tried to save you from.

𝀺''𐤙 ⦂ ▍▊⃢" wasn't mentally stable at the time of writing this [moreso than.normal]. it's not.too obvious, is it?

If i was a sickly little peasant boy designated by the aristocracy to carry messages back and forth for pennies and you found me against our citys outer wall with a deep wound in my chest from a musket ball and a letter cluthed in my hand and i told you that my dying wish was to have someone read that letter to me so i would know i died for something important and you open it up and you find a single large illustrated diagram of an onion would you tell me what it was? What would you say?

[literallyjustmyventaccount]

cycling on its tippy toes- beautiful things putting on a show for greedy eyes and put away in its little box when unneeded. Music box, a trapped songbird.

I don't know what the above is referring to but I'm typing it in case it's something that needs to be said.

[manylittleguys]

ok how the hell am I supposed to cope with the fact that the girl I:

had known the majority of my life

had decided I was going to marry at a young age

wanted to spend the rest of my life with (before everything), and

trusted with the whole of my self

manipulated me not only the whole time we were dating but the whole time we were friends (since the age of 5-6) for her plans to take over the fucking world. She never loved me, did she? She never cared about me, never wanted me, never enjoyed my company. Never wanted a kid, never wanted to raise the child who was supposed to be our daughter as a proper kid rather than a pawn to use to take over the world, never actually cared about what happened to our daughter, never cared beyond the fact that child survived long enough to get her what she wanted, never really loved my daughter. Neither of us were actually wanted except as tools for her own ends. She didn't care for either of us as people, did she? Only as objects to be used. Good fuck, and I thought I was a bad parent to that poor girl.

[worst-mother-throwdown]

BRACKET 1

Round 2

TW: child neglect, exploitation, mention of vomiting

Mom Turner propaganda

Tiffany Meyer propaganda

[parmesanabomination]

pleas tw this

The way that you react to this clip is a litmus test for if you’ve ever been autistic in public school or not

[sassypotatoe1]

I'm about to talk about cancer and religion and indoctrination and I'm going to try to address it as sensitively to all parties as possible.

Someone reposted a tiktok on one of the community Facebook groups of a very sick man, emaciated, struggling to breathe even with cannula and just all round looking very close to death. Before I get into what he said, I need everyone to know that his primary oncologist told him he is resistant to treatment and should consider hospice-based palliative care from what he's said in the video.

He claims that Jesus healed him, while he is still very much terminally ill. I know many Christians believe in miracles and divine healing, I know a ton of Christians experience miraculous healing and attribute it to God, I personally as an agnostic person don't believe it's divine healing from God but very much still miraculous, and if it brings you comfort to attribute your sudden turnaround to God I am not about to fault you for it or tell you you're wrong, it's just something I personally don't believe.

My personal belief on it is that there are some miraculous medical phenomena that can't be explained with current medical science, and there's two possibilities. Either there's some mundane explanation we just don't have yet, or it really is an act of divine healing and I'm wrong. I'm willing to accept both, and I'm also willing to accept that if I'm wrong about God and divinity then I am and I will accept whatever punishment divinity has for me for not believing.

What I do have a problem with is the exploitation of someone's suffering and pain to convert them. Here we have a man that has been convinced by a pastor that his doctor lied about him being terminal, and that he should give his life to Jesus to be cured, when he did he was told he was cured when he clearly is still very terminally ill, and then given the caveat of "even if you die now you won't go to hell but you need to spread the gospel by telling everyone about how miraculously Jesus has healed you and tell them to also accept Jesus into their life or they will go to hell and they will suffer and they will die if they get cancer because only Jesus can heal you".

When I still did believe in divinity, I believed that God gave scientists and doctors the knowledge and wisdom to understand the universe and medicine to be able to help people get better and that that was how the miracle of healing worked in modern times. The part of me that still likes the idea of divinity still likes that explanation, and I emplore religious people to adopt the same belief, because from my perspective if God gave us the knowledge to make medicine and develop medical technology and surgeries to reduce suffering, it would be slighting God to reject these things in their name.

But telling someone who's very definitely still dying and very definitely still ill that they've been healed by divine grace and that the doctors who studied and qualified and practiced to be able to diagnose, treat and lessen his suffering are lying to him about his illness, the treatments he's undergone and become resistant to, and that he needs palliative care in a hospice because of how his illness has progressed, that just sets him up for a lot of pain and suffering before his imminent death, and people in that situation adopt one of two opinions.

The first is "God may not have healed my body but he's healed my soul and my suffering will be over soon and I'll be in heaven", which is a pretty healthy way to cope with imminent death and intense suffering and I will happily allow people that belief in their own personal capacity, as long as they don't manipulate others with it. Shouting on street corners and don't let your left hand know what your right is doing and all that.

The second, and ime more common, is "God was supposed to have healed me, why would I still be suffering and dying, why would a god of love allow such pain, he must not be real" and if I'm wrong about divinity and God really exists and the caveat for getting into heaven is believing in him (which is a different discussion because I've encountered theology that I can't confirm because it was too long ago indicating that those who don't know better will still go to heaven if they've lived a good life) then convincing someone terminal that God will heal their illness and end their suffering if they just believe when they're not going to suddenly stop being terminal and suffering is counter intuitive, exploitative and cruel.

It's especially exploitative and cruel if you use a dying man desperate for relief to spread your agenda, draw people to your church, and convert him and them to get more influence and money. That's insidious and greedy and, again, cruel and the Jesus I grew up with would turn over your tables and chase you out of the temple with a flogger/whip.

Christianity is about flouting authority in the face of oppression and immorality. It's about giving love and support. It's about appreciating, admiring and protecting all of God's creations. It's about empowering the poor, accepting the different, loving everyone, as in recognizing each and every human's inherent worth just for existing, no matter their crimes or origin or nationality or religion.

You spread the gospel by showing people the love of Jesus, the love he preached, the non-judgemental, slow to anger, selfless and giving love. The love for your fellow human beings driving you to fight against unfair authority to bring a net benefit for everyone. That's the Christianity I grew up in. Spreading the gospel is showing that love, and manipulating people with a video of a crying man in his death bed convinced he's healed and going to heaven is not.

[uncanny-tranny]

The leftism/anticapitalism leaving people's bodies the zeptosecond you imply that disabled people who aren't "productive" still matter in society and need to be treated like intrinsic equals who have a place in this world:

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

so theres a lot of posts going round about the titanic wreck and the missing submarines; all of them that ive seen have made very good points about how shoddy the submersible seemed to be and how the company decided to wait eight hours before reporting it, and how this is a play stupid games, win stupid prizes for the ultra-wealthy who paid like 250grand a ticket for this thing.

but what i havent seen any posts about is how the titanic wreck is a gravesite and this tourism is disturbing the graves of over 1500 people.

sometimes its kinda hard to remember that those on the titanic were real people; it was over a century ago, the story has been romanticised in so many ways (like the movie), theres conspiracies theories galore that cloud everything with misinformation, but at the end of the day, those who died were real people.

do you want their names? heres a list of them; its a long read. and for fun, heres another site where you can see photos of the children and babies who died aboard.

their bodies are long gone and their lives long forgotten. all we have to remember them and honour them is the wreck itself. its all we have of them and it is their gravesite. its their tombstone.

caitlin doughty/ask a morticians video on the great lakes discusses the topic well, and why we should leave these shipwrecks alone because again, they are the gravesites of all the souls who died aboard those ships. we rarely have bodies to recover so we really are left just with the wreck.

and what really upsets me about titanic tourism is how the majority of those who died that night were not the ultra-wealthy rich folks you might picture when you think of ocean liners.

61% of the first class passengers survived

42% of the second class passengers survived

24% of the third class passengers survived

24% of the crew survived **

the majority of those who died that night were regular folk; not to be cliche, but they were just like us. titanics wreck is not only a gravesite for over 1500 people, its also a majority working class gravesite.

and look at us now. look at what were doing. the ultra-wealthy can pay the equivalent of peanuts to them to disturb a mass gravesite of the exact kind of people they exploit today to hold onto all their wealth. 

its easy to point and laugh at these dumb idiots in their playstation controller submarine, seemingly held together with super glue and duct tape, but its also important to remember that what they were doing was simply disturbing a gravesite for fun. though the company does research, these guys werent down there to conduct research, they were there so they could brag about it to their friends. its like “climbing mount everest” while your sherpa does all the work.

if you cant tell, i have a lot of feelings about this. shipwrecks and ocean liners are one of my special interests and im currently building a (beginner’s) model of the titanic, for fucks sake. but i would never go down to see that wreck because its a fucking gravesite and we should not be disturbing their final resting place.