#babadook actually helps people too

[honeysmokedham]

TIMING: August 3rd, 2023 PARTIES: Nora @honeysmokedham & Thea @notstinky LOCATION: The Crypt of Annalise Bellowmore SUMMARY: Thea decides Nora NEEDS to have a clean crypt and she's going to make it happen. Nora's just trying to be okay. CONTENT WARNINGS: None!

The thing about chapels was that they didn’t have a doorbell. Thea felt wrong inviting herself inside, but she justified it by thinking of the chapel as an apartment lobby and Nora’s apartment was just down a very narrow set of stairs. She dragged her clothing rack down the stairs, tucking the stack of hangers under one arm and her broom under the other. The bow she had put on the rack so the present appeared more dressed up, had fallen off in the chapel somewhere. It was too late to go back for it. “Nora?” She called out. “Nora? Is that…is someone crying?” It was probably some recording Nora had to add to the atmosphere but Thea had to admit, the crypt had great acoustics. Why wasn’t Nora hosting karaoke nights down here? 

Nora was more paint than human, bear, whatever she was supposed to identify as, at this point. Her crypt has steadily been growing into a collection of stolen art supplies, and now, after her return from the mines, she had thrown herself into the art of creation. The only time such an act was more valuable than its sister, destruction, was when her brush touched canvas and the world stopped to exist. The world didn’t stop existing. The clattering sound of metal on stone steps brought Nora to an attention that not even the crying Munch doll could have. “Thea?” She had invited the other over, but Nora wasn’t used to people accepting invites to her crypt. This was her first official visitor. Nora extracted herself from her place in front of the canvas and moved through the empty space to the door. Babadook following close on her heels. “I told you not to buy anything.” It was a poor thanks for a gift that was so thoughtful. “Thanks.” Nora helped, tried to help with the rack and getting it into the main part of the crypt since Thea had her hands full. “Welcome to my crypt.” It was really one large room, everything in view once you got to the main area. “This is Babadook,” Nora nodded a chin to her dog. “Then Munch is the one crying, over there.” She pointed. “He’s a sad clown. I think its his thing to cry.”

Thea wanted to be polite. She didn’t say that Nora’s crypt-house smelled like dirt, dust, mold and paint— like the wet rotting corpse of an artist had crawled into the stone. She didn’t say the cobwebs were unsightly or that she didn’t exactly think it was safe for Nora’s horrifying cosplay dog to be in a space with snakes and spiders. As she did with everything else in her life, Thea focused on the positives. It was cool down here despite the summer heat and all the spiders must have been fun to watch crawl around. It was a unique place to live and, certainly, very Nora. “Hello, Babadook— we met last time, actually. I’m happy to see him in his costume again.” When the rack was settled, Thea busied herself with setting the hangers up for Nora to use, hoping that her clothes would get out of the pile on the ground and somewhere clean. She thought about the scene from Mary Poppins during ‘A Spoonful Of Sugar’ where Julie Andrews snaps and all the clothes and mess goes back into place. When she snapped, the best she got was a spider shifting on one of its many hairy legs on a web that was a little too close to her face. Thea wasn’t even going to say anything about the floating clown doll, that was, in fact, the source of the crying. 

“Were you painting, Nora?” Thea asked, picking up her broom. She had a lot of work to do— the crypt was more dirt than stone. And she wasn’t going to ask about the floating clown doll. “I am a little confused about what you do with the paint smells.” She was not confused, one sniff to the air told her exactly what Nora did with the paint smells. She was not going to ask about the crying, floating clown doll. “It’s not entirely healthy to breathe them in all the time.” She was not going to ask about the doll. “I also wonder about what you do with food… do you have a fridge or…” She wasn’t going to do it. She wasn’t going to— “How are you doing that?” She pointed at the floating clown doll, asking. “Is it on strings? Does it have a speaker? It’s moving like it’s actually floating. Is it magnets? It’s magnets, isn’t it?” 

"Oh right." Last time. Nora knew there had been a last time. Because it had been the first time Thea and she had hung out. It had been the start of their friendship, and the day that Thea had become damned for her association with Nora. Because last time was before Debbie. Last time had been before the phantom memory of the pressure it took to plunge her knife into Debbie's skull haunted her hand. Nora blinked, at the realization that last time had been a lifetime ago. Suddenly a new guilt was weighing her down. Why hadn't she been checking on Thea. Why hadn't she been apologizing to the girl who hadn't even wanted to break into a supermarket that day? Why was she letting that same innocent Thea, come into her crypt and clean it. Because Nora had already proven that she was a black hole, taking and taking, and Thea had already proven that she was better. Nora stood there, a statue as she tried to find the words. How've you've been since Debbie? Are you okay? Are we okay? Please don't clean. Please just be here as my friend. 

But words had never been her friend, and each imagined sentence never made it past the lump in her throat. 

And Thea was talking. Wonderful, kind, thoughtful Thea didn't question the black hole consuming everything she was giving without returning anything. Thea didn't stop and ask why she was carrying the conversation along with the burden of friendship. Nora swallowed back the lump in her throat and forced he voice to croak out a "Yeah.' She had been painting. It was a self-portrait of crystals consuming Nora's body, a successor to Goya's Saturn Devouring His Son. Because just like Goya, a madness overtook her in this art. An escape from the truth. 

"I don't have any ventilation." Nora kept forcing the words past the lump, begging it to disappear back inside her. Let her deal with it later. Let Thea be free from this extra burden. "No. Maybe I should get a fan." But wouldn't the fan only flow it around the crypt? It wasn't like the paint fumes would escape. "I don't have a fridge. I don't normally eat here." Then Thea was pointing at Munch, who was still sobbing. The crying clown doll was perfect for him. How Sofie hadn't noticed that there was a ghost in there was beyond her. "It's possessed. We talked about it. You can touch him if you want, but he'll punch you." 

Microplumes of dust flew up under Thea’s rocking broom. Her gaze was fixed on the magnetic clown doll. Possessed, Nora kept saying, as if it was a state of being that made sense for a doll. Thea was possessed, in the metaphorical— the only way that word could be used and mean something. Grief possessed her, memories haunted her, her body was hollowed out like the sort of fake rock her father put their spare set of keys in, thinking no one would ever look inside. Sometimes, even Thea lost that rock in the sea of real ones. She’d have to pick each of them up and shaking, waiting until she heard a ratting. No one had stopped shaking Thea. Thea was possessed, the doll was just a trick of science. Thea approached the doll. 

Thea was always a curious person, as a child, if a question struck her in the night, she couldn’t sleep until it was answered. The world was a massive, horrifying jumble of mysteries and questions; if she understood it just a little, just enough, nothing was scary anymore. Everything became normal. She ran her hands along the side, hoping she’d feel the magnetic pull on her bracelet and be down with her questions. Nothing. She tried underneath. Nothing. She tried on top. Nothing. Behind. Nothing. Thea poked it. The doll’s hand snapped out and punched her in the nose and Thea stumbled back; it wasn’t that the doll was a particularly heavy hitter, it was some mixture of confusion, fear, and the embarrassment of being punched by a floating clown doll. When she spun, regaining her footing, she opened her eyes to find Nora’s self-portrait. Thea shrieked; fear pulsed off of her in heavy waves. 

Thea snapped her hands over her mouth. “Sorry, it, um…” She swallowed, lowering her hands. “It’s a very visceral painting. It, um, for a moment…I really thought that was you. It felt like you were really…” Thea’s gaze dropped to it. “….consumed by crystals.” She turned to the doll, still floating, still a clown. “H-how did you program it to punch me? How did…” Thea turned around again. “Nora, this…” she gestured around. “…isn’t normal, is it?”  

It was weird seeing Thea come into her home with the intent of cleaning it. As if it was something Nora should want. It made Nora examine her living space with new eyes. There had been a joy in the reclamation of herself, and space, with the lack of care. A direct pull into doing the opposite of everything she’d been told to do her whole life. Keep herself clean. Keep herself presentable. Become approachable. Now her personal hygiene, the state of her home, everything about her had become a rebellious statement against that. But Thea cared. Thea cared enough to bring a broom and a clothing rack and clean up a place she’d never considered worth cleaning before. 

Luckily Thea became distracted by Munch. With Thea bothering the doll instead of sweeping, Nora got to forget the uncomfortable feeling that came with watching the back and forth of the broom. As if the broom was more than just a broom, but what the broom stood for was something she couldn’t put her finger on. Nora blinked once. Twice. Three times as Thea moved her hand around Munch until Munch punched her. Right in the nose. “Brutal.” Nora mumbled. “Munch stop, she’s a fucking guest. You can’t just go around fucking punching people.” The ghost was shouting, the ghost was in a temper. Munch was always in a temper. Nora suspected his temper was how he became a ghost in the first place. 

Thea was screaming and Nora was feasting. A tasty little snack. A treat for Nora. She walked over to stand next to Thea, tilting her head at her unfinished portrait and trying to imagine how Thea saw it. “Are you sure it wasn’t being punched by a ghost that scared you?” Nora questioned, but Thea still didn’t believe in ghosts. “I didn’t program Munch to do anything.” The sad clown ghost had flown off to a different part of the crypt to cry, and Nora kept staring at the self-portrait parsing through what Thea had said about it. The crystals had consumed her. “It was me.” Nora agreed finally. It was still the me she wanted to be. “You know those weird crystals that sprouted all around town?” Nora gestured to one that had popped up in her crypt. A large space was left around it. “If you touch it, that’s what happens. You receive the “blessing” and you become a crystal.”

The world spun and Thea stood unmoving— left-behind. The first time she saw the grainy footage of her bones shattering and fusing together into the hulking frame of a wolf monster, she’d felt much of the same. It wasn’t a new feeling then; every time a ‘bad day’ turned to days and even opening her curtains felt like too much of a chore, time stretched to swallow her. It wasn’t a new feeling now. The only thing that tethered her to reality was Nora, whose contorted face in the painting knotted Thea’s stomach with concern. Nora was hard to read and her painted face was no different; it was the words that Thea clung to. There was no blessing in the world that involved the transformation of the body into other: not a wolf, not a crystal. Thea knew that Nora didn’t adhere to the conventions of normal like she did, nor did Nora seem to find comfort in the idea, but she did understand transformation. “Did it hurt?” She asked, turning to face Nora. “When I…” Thea gulped. She glanced over at Munch, the magnetic programmable clown doll that was not possessed, because ghosts didn’t exist. Her nose throbbed. She glanced around her: all the dust and cobwebs and gray stonework. Finally, she looked back at the painting and into the crystals that couldn’t have literally consumed Nora, because crystals didn’t do that. Well, if they were going to talk nonsense, what did it matter? 

“When I transform, my bones snap and my skin stretches and—I don’t really remember it much, mostly I just feel it after, everything hurts and sometimes I just lay down for a few hours waiting for my legs to feel like legs again but—it’s like…” Thea swallowed, searching Nora’s impassive face for understanding. “It feels wrong. When I wake up… My body feels wrong. It feels like something bad happened to me and everything feels wrong. I don’t feel like me anymore, it feels like someone else crawled inside and shook everything up. And just when I start to feel like me again, it happens all over.” Thea pointed at the painting; her grip tightened on the broom’s handle. “W-was that how it felt for you?” 

A pause in time to consider the question. Did it hurt? “Yes.” Physically Nora had thought she was dying. She had ripped flesh off her face to reveal crystal underneath. Her body had torn in new ways as the crystals popped through her flesh. It had been brutal and drawn out. Answering the question, did it hurt, wasn’t what it took time to consider. What Nora considered was it didn’t hurt enough to stop. If her mind would remain her own she would touch the crystals everyday for the rest of her life to become that, become her, the portrait on her easel. Or maybe the real pain was emotional. Being given the gift of your dreams with a burden attached to it, too heavy to accept. A carrot dangled in front of her face by a master who wanted a different beast. “It hurt.” Could three words encompass the experience? Could they tie the turmoil up in a nice bow, and offer it as a shared experience? Were words that powerful?

Nora might have gotten lost there, in her own thoughts, had she not offered a shocking new turn of conversation. When I transform. The hair raised along Nora’s arms at the confession. Thea was a shifter? There had always been something animalistic about her scent, but Nora had ignored it. Part of Thea’s job, or something. She was sensitive about her smell, there had never been a reason to ask, but the picture was coming into focus. “You’re a shifter.” There was nothing in Nora’s voice. No judgment. No acceptance. Just the plain neutrality that her monotone always offered. “When the crystals transformed me it was long. I felt like I was dying.” Or had that only been the banshee’s lie that put the thought in her head? “When I turn into a bear, it’s a moment. My body breaks and remakes. Then I’m me again. As a bear.” Nora blinked as she digested the words Thea had offered. “You don’t-” She paused, trying to make sure she had this right. “You make it sound like you don’t remember when you’re shifted? What do you change to?”

“Shifter?” Thea felt the word in her mouth, the weight of each syllable and the curve of her tongue around the sounds. The word was new for her; she assumed--if she was going to assume she was anything--that she was a werewolf. It made sense to her, based on the grainy footage of her sleepwalking camera. Like most things regarding her issue, she didn’t really think about it. “I’m not a shifter,” she swallowed, scratching her forehead, leaving behind pink streaks across her skin. “I’m not a--I’m me. I’m not anything. I’m just me. I’m a normal girl. I’m a normal girl with a little problem.” The broom trembled in her grip, her fingers tight against the plastic rod. “B-bear?” Thea blinked. “Bear?” She asked again, as if the answer could change. She wasn’t a bear, her grainy recorded body was too slim and her mouth too dog-like. She knew there were big cats, like Felix, and now bears? Why had she gotten a wolf? The broom snapped in her hands. “D-do you eat people? Does the bear eat people?” 

The conversation about crystals seemed far off. She didn’t know what crystals had to do with Nora--what they had to do with the bear. She wanted to ask how different each had felt; if the crystals hurt but made her whole again or if it was just the bear that did that. Thea couldn’t get anything out but a series of hiccups and gasps. “I don’t remember,” she croaked. “Only a little. Sometimes. But I know…I know because…” Her trembling body didn’t care for the breathing exercises she attempted to employ; in, out, hold, in, out, none of it mattered. Her throat tightened. “...hair between my teeth and blood under my nails and I feel full. Inside. I feel full.” Thea sucked in a quivering breath. “It happens with the moon. I don’t know what it is. I’m normal, I’m a normal girl. It just--with the moon.”

With each stuttering word, and trembling finger Thea seemed to crumble. A shell of anxiety and emotion. Fear radiated off her friend, mixing with denial and apprehension. The broom snapped. A similar sound to her bones, their bones during shifting. Nora blinked at Thea, puzzling through the fractured broken sentences that had yet to shift into something complete. They lay wounded and open between the two of them while Nora waited for their transformation to complete. With each additional statement from Thea a form began to shape and Nora began to understand. Compassion, love or something of the like bloomed over Nora as she saw her friend painted in a new light before her. A girl alone and scared in a world that no longer made sense. A story she thought might be familiar to many of the werewolves she’d met, but they would have to know other werewolves to know it was familiar. With each panicked and hurt word, Nora felt herself become calmer and more resolved. How could she be angry about crystals and the mines in the face of her friend’s turmoil?

Nora stepped forward to her friend who just confessed to have eaten people. To her friend who didn’t want to be stinky. To her friend that had come over to clean Nora’s place because she wanted to. To her friend that had once told her she would die on the hill that nothing is a lost cause. Nora’s hand reached out, gently placing it on Thea’s arm. “You’re just Thea.” Nora confirmed. Because what else did you tell your friend who could turn into a wolf and ate people, but couldn’t remember it. “Normal can be different things. Normal can be turning into a bear or a wolf. Normal can be what we make it.” When Nora had been alone, she wished there had been someone else like her. Someone who ate fear and turned into a bear and could show her what her normal was supposed to be. Nora wasn’t a wolf, but she could make sure her friend knew she wasn’t alone. “You can be normal and the wolf. Just like I’m normal and the bear. We’re just us. You know?”

Thea whimpered, the sound caught in her throat and left a watery sob. Tears stung at the edges of her red eyes and when Nora touched her, the dam broke and they rained down her face. All her life she had wanted to be normal. She was too poor to be like the other girls in her school, her shoes had holes in them and her clothes came down from her older cousins. She was too smart to be average in class, which hadn’t felt like a curse until every hand she raised threw a series of daggers into her back and whispers burning her ears. She liked girls too much to join in on conversations about boy bands and movie star heartthrobs. No matter what she did, she was different. She was born different. Normal could be what they made it; Nora made it sound easy and Thea wanted to believe her. “C-can I hug you?” She sniffled. The second the affirmative left Nora’s lips, Thea threw her arms around her friend and held her tightly. 

She breathed in her scent of dust and mold; felt the scratchy fabric of her clothes with dubious laundry schedule; and felt more at home holding Nora than she’d felt under any roof. “You’re a good friend,” Thea whispered into her hair. “I’m sorry I tried to clean your crypt; it’s just you and I like you and I don’t want to clean you up and turn you into something else.” She’d only been trying to take care of her a little but truly, through the fog of her lies, she’d been hoping to make Nora a little more normal and she was sorry for that. “We’re just us,” she repeated, “we’re just us.”

They were a bear and a wolf and somewhere behind them a floating crying clown doll that was definitely possessed, and that was okay. That could be normal. It was only the two of them and their life and it was normal. 

#chatzy #chatzy: thea #mtv crypts

[letsbenditlikebennett]

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @honeysmokedham & @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY: When Alex receives a message from Nora to go to the mines, she worries her new potential friend is in trouble and goes down to the mines to make sure Nora's okay. CONTENT: Gun use & eye trauma.

This was a bad idea. Alex knew this was a bad idea and yet she found herself stowing away a firearm and bullets from Kaden’s supply into the inside pocket of her leather jacket with shaking hands. Neither Andy nor Kaden was home and she’d hear them well before they walked in the door, but the whole borrowing without permission thing still left her with a certain sense of unease. Or maybe that was the catastrophically stupid idea of going to the mines to make sure Nora was ok. 

Sure, she didn’t actually know Nora all that well. One party hardly created an undying friendship. But she had said ‘cool’ when Alex had drunkenly outed herself as a ‘wolf girl’ and something about the seeming acceptance felt warm in a way that was unfamiliar. Plus, she was Cass’s friend and the mines weren’t exactly the safest place to be. If she could help, she had to, right? Alex couldn’t in good conscience leave her alone down there, not with the increasingly strange things seeming to emerge from them. Even if her heart felt more and more like it was about to leap right out of her chest as she got closer to the network of caves that made up the mines, she had to try and help Nora. She was supposed to be a protector, not a monster, and this felt like a chance to prove it to herself even if it was the last thing she did. A low, almost guttural rumbling sound came from the caves and it dawned on her that this very well could be the last thing she did. God, she really hoped this wasn’t the last thing she ever did. 

Despite that nagging sense of dread, Alex ventured into the dark mines with a flashlight and headlight as her only guide. She supposed she did have her senses, but she hadn’t exactly been sniffing people at that party, definitely not enough to know what Nora smelled like and the constant low hum made it hard to discern what direction any sound came from. It was almost comical, the gems that shimmered through different cave walls made it particularly stunning and yet she knew danger lurked, probably closer than she even knew. She heard something that sounded like movement and stopped in her tracks, almost afraid to breathe. Another shuffle. “Nora,” she called out in a hushed tone, “Are you in here?” 

The transfer from crypt dweller to mine dweller had been easy. Each offered a large variety of hard surfaces to make home. Each came with darkness. And each came with people telling her it wasn’t safe to be there. The only difference was both Munch and Babadook had refused to accompany her in this move. Well. That sucked for them. Nora would just continue having the time of her life down here. Cass often came down to join her in the depths, and now, after a cryptic online conversation with Cass’s friend Alex, the redhead was coming down here too. Nora was hopeful that she could convert her into a member of mines.

The scent came first, wafting in from the mine’s entrance. Nora knew it was Alex, not because of the memory of the party, but because who else would be here now? Nora shuffled closer in the darkness, it was hard to stay in the shadow since her crystalline body parts let out a soft glow, but Nora knew this mine intimately now. Every crack and cranny to hide in, every protrusion to stand behind, ever winding path step. The redhead called out her name, confirming that it was her. That was another thing Nora could never forgive Mackenzie for. Dropping her full name in a room of people who didn’t need to know it. Nora knew it was bitter to hold that against her, but Nora held a lot of bitter feelings towards Mackenzie. Old habits die hard.

“Alex, are you here?” Nora’s tone was its flat monotone as it echoed back the question Alex had asked. As the last word echoed off the mine wall, Nora stepped into full view of the other. It was a sign of pride, to Nora, to be able to present her truth now. This visage that felt more like her than her regular human and bear ever could. “Glad you made it. Welcome to the mines.” Nora threw a lazy hand out from her side, making a sweeping welcoming motion. “Let me give you a tour.” Nora turned her back and slipped back into the dark depths.

The way her name quietly echoed off the dark walls of the cave was far from comforting. Even if Nora sounded alright and there was no hint of distress in her voice, Alex still felt unmoored. She could smooth the hunch from her shoulders and equip herself with all the weapons in the world, but it’d never make her brave. The way every breath she took in only shallowly waded in her lungs before rushing right back out was proof of that. Nora was calm. That meant everything was fine. She told herself as much silently until she could see Nora step into view. 

“I’m here,” Alex answered as she kept her mouth trained in a thin line to hide the fact she was a bit taken aback by the rocky form in front of her. She was a werewolf… Nora was a rock-person. It was cool. She held onto the word like a crutch and let it guide her forward. “Yeah, I was worried you might have gotten stuck down here or something with the accidents and stuff,” she said coolly. 

She listened around them. Outside of the trickle of water and the occasional echo of something small scurrying, there was nothing of alarm as far as Alex could hear. It made her relax a little, made the weight of the gun in her jacket feel less like an anchor. Now that her eyes had adjusted, she found them drawn to the sparkling crystals along the rocky walls of the cave. They looked like the ones in the fissures— the ones on Nora. And that brought a certain amount of dread because that couldn’t be good. “A tour,” she asked, “You know your way around down here well then?” 

The people of this town didn't understand. So many of them filled her phone with words about how dangerous the mines were. How she needed to get out of there. They asked questions like why didn't anyone care that she was down there? How could she just fuck off to the mines and no one worry about her? Didn't they understand that the mines were worried about her? Didn't they understand that the mines had saved her life, had welcomed her into them, and turned her into what she was always meant to be? A serene sense of peace had washed over Nora since turning into the crystalline creature before Alex. "I could never get stuck down here," Nora answered, her monotone voice revealing nothing. "The mines are my home. They saved my life. They welcome me here and they want me here. They want you here too, you know? They want to help everyone." Nora wasn't sure how she knew this, it wasn't like the mines could physically talk to her. The stones didn't whisper in her ears as she walked by them. It was just something she knew in her heart. An undeniable truth. 

"I've been down here for a bit," Nora answered. Cass had helped her map out the tunnels they were near. Cass was talented like that, understanding the rocks around her and helping Nora understand her new home. "Haven't felt the need to leave." The people in her life had been kind to her, they'd delivered food and goods. Nora wished they would stay with her in the mines forever. She wished she could make them understand that they could all live down here, together forever. Wouldn't that be nice? The family they all deserved to have. A family that understood each other and thrived in the safety of a mine matriarch. "They are better the deeper you go. There are some rooms that have so many crystals that it lights up the place. You'll like it."

The idea of being wanted somewhere had its appeal. To be fully embraced by a whole place, to feel a sense of belonging— Alex would be lying if she said she didn’t crave those things. The sparkling gems that covered Nora were beautiful, there was no denying that. Would she become covered in the same gems or would she be something more akin to a rock wolf? The thought was enough for her to shake the idea of being embraced by the network of caves that made up the mines. That didn’t mean she couldn’t embrace Nora though. That idea held a lot more appeal. She was Cass’s friend which somehow by proxy made her Alex’s friend, even if outside attendance at a party, she and Nora hadn’t shared much together. Cool. Still, the same single word echoed in her mind. “Well, thanks for welcoming me to your home then,” she said, looking around and letting the setting sink in. It wasn’t so bad now that her eyes had adjusted and she could see the visible signs Nora was connected to the cave. “Not sure I get the how the mines saved you, but glad they did,” she offered honestly, “Don’t think there’s any helping me though.” 

Not unless mines could magically cure lycanthropy and make her… Alex wasn’t even sure she wanted to be a ranger, she just knew she didn’t want to be this. “Maybe you could show me those parts,” she suggested. She stepped deeper into the cave and ignored the chill that seemed to wash over her. This was Nora’s home. She wanted to understand it and potentially allow herself a chance to be understood, but did she even understand herself? As much didn’t matter, she pushed forward and looked at Nora. “How did they save you,” she asked, “Is it part of how—” She gestured to the crystals that covered Nora. “Do they hurt or were they always a part of you?” 

The number of times Nora had explained that she had died in the mines, but the mines had revived her was staggering. How often would she have to go through the story? Each time she is met with a new stare of disbelief. All she wanted was for people to believe that the mines were their friends. Their safety. A place to have and hold them forever, in sickness and health. A place where they could all exist. Nora let the disbelief of Alex's comment slip away into the darkness of the mines. The mines would answer Alex when the time was right. For now, all she could do was show Alex the beauty of the mines. "What do you need help with?" Nora asked, prodding for answers. "Speak it out loud, let the mines know your will. They will help you if they can. I promise." Nora was aware of the dangers of making promises to strangers. You never knew who was a fae, waiting to twist your words together and keep you to a promise. Nora didn't care if Alex was a fae. Nora knew, without a question of doubt, that the mines were the answer. The mines would never lie to her. 

Deeper and deeper they wound into the darkness, then Alex was asking a question. Nora paused, considering her answer. She had been content to let them walk in silence, to let the mines speak for them. But this was about the mines. About what the mines had given her. "I died." Nora shrugged. "I died somewhere in here, but the mines didn't want me to die. They grabbed me, they transformed me. They made me into this." Nora motioned down at her body. "They made me perfect. Into someone I've always wanted to be." She knew people didn't understand that either. That Nora thought she looked beautiful now. She looked like how she felt on the outside. It was just another thing the mines gave to her. "I never used to care, you know? About what I looked like? It just was. But this, this is everything to me." 

Then Nora was leading them deeper into the abyss. In Nora's mind, the further down you went, the better it was. The more welcoming it was. The more embraced you felt by the mines. It was also creepier down there. Probably why Nora liked it so much. Shadows flickered anonymously along the walls. Sometimes the sound of creatures scurrying out of sight was apparent. "Don't worry too much about that," Nora told Alex after some particularly large footsteps ran away. "The mine welcomes all. We're never alone."

Despite the fact Alex had asked several questions, she didn’t feel great about them being turned around on her. What she needed help with, no one could provide. The mines weren’t going to magically spit out a cure for lycanthropy and make her no longer a monster, but something in Nora’s promise felt genuine. This was Cass’s best friend, someone Cass loved and trusted, so didn’t that mean she could trust her too? The mines had always been something of a sore point for her, an environmental hazard she wished the town would shut down, but there was something more to them, too. She knew as much though she didn’t know the scope of what that something more was. “Ask them,” she repeated quietly, not sure where to begin. Did she go with asking them what she honestly needed help with? This was all way outside the scope of her understanding and it was going to have to be curiosity that led the way, and she doubted this qualified as the scientific variety. “I want to be better,” she whispered after a long pause, “I don’t want to be…” She trailed off, nervous to finish the thought. 

“It doesn’t matter, I can’t change what I am,” she finally decided. She still wasn’t sure about these mines and if her request would make her more like Nora… but wouldn’t she be more like Cass then too? More like stone and less a beast. It was tempting and something about the energy surrounding them made it tempting. The more Nora answered her, the more so it became. They had quite literally save Nora and the thought that this tentative friend had died made her sad, but Nora felt perfect now… When had Alex felt even close to that word? Even when she was just a run of the mill human, she hadn’t been good enough. “You died,” she repeated, somewhat in disbelief, “And they saved you. And you feel perfect.” She wanted to say that Nora could have been perfect before, too, but she didn’t know them well enough. Anyone could be their best themselves though, she was starting to believe that. “Why didn’t you before,” she questioned, “Not that– I’m sorry, I know that’s probably personal.” 

The movement in the shadows made her heart leap in her chest, but Nora assured her it was okay. Alex wanted to believe her, let herself enjoy the mines with Nora like she had enjoyed the caves with Cass. Well, maybe not exactly like that. She simply nodded, hand smoothing over her jacket— over the firearm in it. “I don’t think we’re really alone anywhere in this town,” she joked, trying to ease her own tension, but she swore she saw a glimmer of something in the shadow, too. She’d have to keep a close ear out. She was pretty sure Nora couldn’t survive death twice and she wasn’t about to let them die on her watch. 

Alex started to say what it was her heart desired from the mines. The words, I want to be better, drifted from her, with another sentence that was abruptly dropped and forgotten. "You know, I don't care." In the way of positivity. "You could say you want forgiveness for murder from the mines, and I wouldn't care. Who am I to judge someone for what they've had to do in their life." It was supposed to be a message of positivity, but in Nora's monotone, echoed by the crystal of her jaw, she figured she probably sounded blank and bored if anything. But Nora wasn't. Nora wanted to share her love for the mines. She wanted everyone to enjoy everything here just the way that she did. 

"You can change what you are. Look at me." Nora motioned to herself. The self that was the best thing she'd ever become. "You saw me before. The mines changed me. They saw that I wanted to be more." Nora really did sound like she was preaching. A church official singing the gospel of everything that had changed her life. Probably. She'd never actually gone to church before. How would she know? "Yes." Nora agreed. "I died, it saved me. I..." Nora chewed on the words, they tasted vile, but Nora wanted Alex to understand just how powerful the mines were. "I didn't feel right in my body. It was a body. It was a tool. It was everything others wanted it to be. But it wasn't who I wanted to be." The words felt different as they were said. They weren't ones she'd ever expressed before. Normally it was a thought that circled in her mind while she looked in a mirror, and now she was stating it out loud. "But it doesn't matter anymore. I am perfect now." 

"Monsters are always where you least expect them." Those were the words Nora said as a monster was where she least expected it. See, Nora had expected the monster hiding in the shadows to leave. She'd seen plenty of others in the mines before. Often other crystalline people. They would nod as they passed each other and never talk. But now there was a creature jumping straight at Nora. It knocked her across the tunnel and into the wall. Nora felt her body crash into the rock, head spinning, completely confused about what just happened. This was not according to plan. "What?" Nora asked the world around her. She had been so confident in her safety in the mines, that this attack caught her completely by surprise. 

The only change in Nora’s voice came from the echoes of the walls of the mine, parroting her words back in waves. Otherwise they were as cool as a cucumber. There was no waver in their words and part of Alex wanted to believe her words, believe there was any fixing her, but she knew well enough that if something seemed too good to be true, it probably was. Maybe Nora wouldn’t judge her, but she knew decidedly she wanted nothing from the mines. Whatever pull they had on Nora seemed worlds different than Cass’s connection with her cave or Teagan’s with her lake. The fact Nora had died still made her head spin. Instead of offering anything to the mines, she settled. “I’m not even sure where to begin with what needs fixing,” she joked, though it was half-hearted at best, “But I’m glad they saved you. I know we don’t really know each other well… I’m just happy there’s still a chance for that to change.” 

The last part was a little more heartfelt. Maybe it was all the time spent in one town now, but Alex was finding it harder to exist solely as the fortress that had always been her and Andy. It was hard to pretend she didn’t want friendships when she saw the same faces and places, day after day, year after year. And something in the way Nora spoke hit so close to home that she couldn’t ignore it, couldn’t pretend like it was a connection that didn’t matter. Because hadn’t her own body always been a tool? First an ill-suited weapon to fight monsters and now just stuck as one. “I get that,” she said softly, hand still ghosting over the firearm as she heard scurrying, “I’m sorry you didn’t get to be what you wanted before. It… just really sucks not having a say. You des–” 

No longer was the movement quiet and distant, it was right there and Alex jumped as the creature had attacked Nora. She could practically hear her father chiding her for not being alert, for losing herself to something so illogical. But she couldn’t be that kid who missed all her targets and got her ass handed to her by all the other kids at hunter camp— not when there was someone else’s life on the line. Even Nora, who had seemed so confident the mines were safe, was taken aback by the attack. 

“Stay low,” she called to Nora as she backed away from the crystallized monster with no face. The grip on the gun was no longer of the phantom variety and her shaking hand lifted the firearm. Steady. She practically screamed the word at herself and grasped the gun as if it was the only thing holding her up before pulling the trigger. The bullet flew through the air and into the intended target, the strange faceless creature. That seemed to disorient it enough, but also made the ground below them shake and before she knew it, she was falling forward as another one of the creatures, this one wearing an old woman’s face, barrelled into her from behind. 

The force of the push into the wall had caused the crystals cascading down Nora's arm to push into the wall. It took a moment of struggle for her to push herself free from the wall's embrace. It appeared the crystals wanted to return home to the ground. Not yet. One day, when she allowed death to meet her and for them to walk the final mine shaft together, her crystals would return to the ground. Alex was screaming, something about staying low. Nora was surprised, fear was there in Alex's scent, but it wasn't overwhelming like Nora would have guessed. Instead, she saw that Alex had a gun. The gun was loud, echoing in the confined space. The sound seemed to vibrate in her crystals, shuddering her body. 

Nora, as she was watching Alex, saw another one of those creatures throwing itself at the redhead. The face of an old lady was livid in its expression, mouth open wide. Nora sprang to action, what was the point of having crystalline talons if she wasn't going to use them? Nora dove across the shaft towards Alex, throwing herself on the creature. Head first, she rammed her horns into the creature to push it out of Alex's way. Keeping up the momentum, she slashed. Her talons met the creature, as she slashed and slashed. Full intent to reach into the creature's chest and rip out whatever organ held the heart. This was a breach of everything the mines stood for. This was taking away the sacred right to exist safely in these mines, and endangering someone who could join them. Nora was livid. Nora saw red as her arms worked.

“You hurt no one in the mines.” Nora hissed. The old lady’s face was a twisted mask of anger, but the eyes were empty. Her blue eyes, aged with cataracts, stared blankly back at Nora. It was unsettling, Nora dug her talons into them. The eyes popped as the pressure was applied and the sharp crystals punctured them. The old lady’s mouth opened, a purple substance spewing from her. It burned as it made contact with Nora, she could feel it eating away at her hair, clothes and skin. The crystals took the brunt of the projection, thank whatever trickster ran her life that they didn’t have nerve endings. 

The collision sent Alex stumbling forward and the gun flying out of her hands, not that it had been a smart idea to begin with in the enclosed space. Somewhere in the shadows, she could see flecks of light hitting the metal and she desperately wanted that safety net back within her reach. Before the creature could make its full attack on her, Nora was diving in her direction, ripping the creature away from her. Covered in crystals, the other girl could do a lot more damage than Alex could with her bare hands.

Shock still sank in as she watched Nora with a somewhat horrified fascination. She moved swiftly and seemed protective of keeping the mines a safe space. It all confused Alex and her heart was still racing in her chest as if it was trying to reach a finish line. Talons dug into the old woman’s face and dark liquid spilled from the cloudy eyes. It immediately made her feel lightheaded and she found herself stumbling back into one of the stony walls of the mines. Except of course it wasn’t a wall, it was another creature. 

Something burned her hand and before Alex could fully register what was happening, the panic had taken reign. Her bones creaked and shifted under her skin and she groaned in pain. It was happening too fast to try and stop it and the brief effort she made only made the pain worse. Claws protruded from her hands and bones broke as they tried to move into place. This creature lacked a face and was stumbling around her, occasionally spitting acid haphazardly. Her own claws dug into the walls of the mines as she clung onto them, trying to recenter herself. Another splash of acid hit her and she lost the hold she had on her transformation. 

The crunch of bones echoed within the mines and a howl escaped from the jowls of the werewolf as her body grew into its lupine shape. Where Alex was all fear and hesitation, the wolf had no such inhibitions. It clambered the short distance to the creature and tore through its tough skin. An array of faces appeared before the wolf as it sunk its teeth further and further into grainy flesh, but instinct drove it until the creature was lifeless and dark blood was dripping from the werewolf’s jowls. And just as fast as the shift had taken over, Alex felt her own thoughts rushing in as she looked at Nora.

The creature shifted into the afterlife at the tips of Nora’s claws. Fist full of talon shoved deep into its chest cavity. She felt the muscles move from tense to relaxed, and just like that knew life was fleeting. A part of her, the part that was slowly awakening, the part that was Nora without crystals, recognized that this was a big moment for her. Another kill to her name. Another life struck at her hand, but it was okay because this was the girls died or the monsters. Her or them. Nora trained to kill monsters. She - Who was she? Crystals began to slip off her body, clicking to the ground around her. Pain. Pain again. Pain as intense as the day she’d died. It was more than just the acid. Something was seriously wrong. 

Nora looked at Alex. “H-h-help.” The word was a whisper, a breath. There was no way its sound could reach Alex, but with what Nora saw, well, she didn't think anything would reach Alex. A humanoid wolf, a furry if anything the internet had taught her was real. Then a full wolf, four paws on the ground, no longer anthropomorphized. It - she sprang forward at a third and unexpected guest. Claws worked as well as talons as they dug into the beast. Acid was going everywhere in the fight, another sprout slamming into Nora from where she was crouched. All focus Nora had for the fight was fleeting, as her crystal jaw slipped off her face hitting the ground in front of her. Nora screamed. And screamed. And screamed at the pain of loss as she realized what was happening. Her voice cracked, rough and raw in her throat. She couldn't let this happen.

The bear ripped out of her, taking over Nora's screams with a yodel of rage. As her bones broke, as her skin grew, as her muscles rearranged the crystals fell from her. The burns of the acid remained, but the crystals scattered the ground around her. The shift had made it worse, had made the ripping of the crystals out of her body go faster and faster until there were none. No. No. No! Nora shifted back to human, ignoring the momentary pain of breaking her body and remaking it in a different form. Standing there, naked, she had a clear view of her body. A tear was quick to follow because the crystals were gone. All that was left was the smooth flesh of her human, a few acid burns scattered. "No..." Nora looked for her phone in the pile of her torn clothes, opening it to the camera and staring at her face. Nora stared back. Just Nora. Nora without the crystals. "No." Her monotone was broken, and all that remained was a plea. Please don't let this be her. Please don't let this be real. 

The crystals didn't come back. No more monsters slipped from the darkness of the mines to put Nora out of her misery. There were just two girls and three dead bodies. The mines no longer felt safe. They no longer felt like someplace she wanted to be, but she knew she'd have to stay. Teddy and Cass were still down there, and she wouldn't leave them. But it hurt. There were so many thoughts rushing through her head, so many ideas. Had the mines been controlling her? Or did she feel this repulsion for them because they had rejected her? Nora's breath was shallow as she tried to parse through the last minute. How could so much happen in the span of a breath? If none of this had been real, then why was her heart breaking for the crystal version of her?

Get it together. This wasn't cool girl of her. This wasn't the girl who always kept her chill and remained emotionless. Her carefully constructed mask. "That hurt," Nora mumbled, wiping the tear away. It left a blotchy red streak, grime sticking to the wet areas. "Your wolf is cool," Nora commented, right before tossing her phone at Alex. Carefully, Nora picked up her jacket and used it to cover herself up. Be cool. Be collected. Be calm. Nora stood in front of her kill, crouching in front of it, making sure the jacket covered all the socially unacceptable bits. "Take a photo of me." Her voice was still raw. She didn't want to speak. She wanted to shut down and close in around herself. She wanted to sob, cry and scream. She didn't want to exist. "I need it for my collection." But she had worked for her image. She wouldn't break now. Not while Alex was here. Peace sign, kneeling, her usual blank expression. She posed for a photo instead of letting herself shatter. 

The pleas for help as acid melted the crystals from Nora’s form. Somewhere in the midst of the panic, the monster within her lost the ability to remain dormant. If Alex had been fully in her own mind, she might have noted something about fight or flight, but the acidic blood on her lips had the wolf’s full attention before it slipped into flashes of faces she didn’t recognize. The werewolf let out a grumble that was choked by a cry. Blood dripped from her jowls and onto the cold ground of the mines as the wolf watched Nora. There was something desperate in her mannerisms that helped bring more of her rational thoughts to the forefront. The wolf watched tentatively as Alex gathered her own thoughts, which were admittedly terrified that she had someone made whatever was going on with Nora worse. 

As the crystals slipped away, a bear tore loose from Nora and the confusion the werewolf faced in trying to put her own thoughts together had her limbs shifting back into their own human form. Alex watched, cold and trembling, as a loud roar echoed through the mines. The bear didn’t scare her, but there was something pained in the outcry from the bear that stung. She was supposed to be here to help Nora and this didn’t feel like helping, even if she had been fairly certain the crystals that covered her hadn’t been a good thing. And the bear in front of her meant Nora was a bugbear, which from what she studied as a kid, weren’t supposed to be encrusted in crystals. So this was better, right? 

It didn’t feel better as the bear shifted back into her human-like form and a pained ‘no’ escaped from Nora’s lips. It certainly didn’t feel better as she looked at the creatures on the ground and felt their blood still sticky on her own face. It felt a hell of a lot worse if she thought about the flash of faces or the way Nora had said her body had been a tool before. By the way Nora seemed to move past the whole ordeal, Alex almost thought she imagined it. If it weren’t for the acknowledgement, she would have thought herself crazy. 

“I’m sorry,” Alex mumbled. She wasn’t sure what for– that it hurt? That she had taken something Nora wanted from her? Because didn’t Alex understand better than anyone hating what she was and wishing she could be something better. Who was she to say if a crystal-mine creature was better than a bugbear or not? But Nora was breezing right past all of it and acknowledging her wolf— the very wolf Alex had felt ashamed of, especially in that moment. So all she could do was nod, before she finally said, “Cool bear.” 

Because maybe there were layers here they weren’t going to dive into, but the statement had been a show of acceptance, one Alex had desperately wanted, so even shaken up and shivering, she had to make sure it was reciprocated. Because something in the way Nora had talked before made her believe that maybe they could understand each other, that maybe they could figure out the whole shifter life thing together. It was something she hadn’t allowed herself to want and maybe she especially didn’t deserve it from Nora, but hell, Alex would try. 

So when the phone was tossed to her and Nora was eager to get a photo for her collection, Alex was confused, but she grabbed a jacket from her own discarded bag and prepared herself for their impromptu photoshoot. She took a second to steady her hands, before offering the bugbear a smile, “Okay, grotte du fromage?” 

She snapped a few shots of Nora in her pose at different angles so that the bugbear she hoped was a new friend would have a variety of shots to choose from. Alex wasn’t sure she was ready to process everything that just happened either, so if Nora wanted to turn this into a mines photoshoot and gloss over the heaviness that still lingered in the air, she would happily jump at that chance. Maybe one day they could talk through their experiences as shifters and how they both seemed to hate the bodies they were stuck in, but with the taste of acid still on her lips, she decided this was better. They could turn the whole experience into a meme until they were ready to unpack another day. 

#wr nora #wickedswriting #wr writing #gun use tw #eye trauma tw #threads; with nora #threads; with nora; alexs got a gun #(never been a natural all i do is try try try) ;; writing #(the moonlight's blinding) ;; season 1 writing

[solemnpancake]

Some dumbass: BabbadookxPennywise.

Me, an intellectual: Babbadook vs. Pennywise. Dark Gay Clown Messiah fucking annihilating Child Predator Clown Satan.

#Shooting the Breeze #the babadook #babadook #lgbt #IT #stephen king #pennywise #please draw fanart of this and tag me #it'd be wonderful #meme #babadook actually helps people too #showing the dangers of repressing grief #making him as much trickster as monster

[corpse--diem]

Jet Lag | Nora & Erin

TIMING: Before Christmas PARTIES: @fearfordinner​ & @corpse–diem SUMMARY: Nora is worried there’s something wrong with Erin and tries to offer her a gift to make her feel better.  CONTENT WARNINGS: none

Nora had noticed something that bothered her. Something about Erin. Erin had been posting a lot of sad things online. Things like is anyone truly happy? Nora agreed with it, but didn’t want Erin to not be happy. Instead, she decided to make a plan. She’d take Erin scuba diving on a warm beach, just like Erin said she wanted to. Taking a deep breath, Nora stepped up to Erin’s front door and knocked on it. Tickets for a flight were clutched in her hand as she stared, her black eye mostly healed but definitely colored, down at doorstep. They weren’t even real tickets, because Nora was going to use the family private jet. Instead they were hand drawn flight invitations, of Erin and Nora on a beach scuba diving with monsters in the water. Babadook sat in the car, mournfully staring out the window as he waited to see the interaction.

Erin wasn’t expecting company when the knock on the door lifted her gaze from the paperwork she was filling out. Until the funeral home was finished, this was about as much as she could do now that she was unable to do the fun hands-on part. Well, fun for her. Macabre for the rest of the world. Except maybe for the person standing on the other side of her door. “Nora?” She asked, the surprise evident in her confused, crinkled expression. “What are you doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you but--” she couldn’t for the life of her remember planning something. But it also wasn’t unprecedented for Nora to show up unannounced. Her gaze fell to the papers in her hand, but got stuck on the discolored patches around her eyes. “Oh shit, are you okay? What happened?”

“I-” The words caught in her throat for a second. Nora turned to the side letting out a quick cough before turning back. “I came to see you.” Then Erin was asking if she was okay. Nora wondered if anyone had seen a black eye before because they were all acting like it would have her bed bound for as long as possible. “I’m fine.” Nora mumbled, reaching a hand up trying to make it look like she was brushing back some hair but really just covering her eye. “We should go scuba diving.” Nora held out the hand drawn tickets. “Anytime you want. Now if you want.” Nora turned away, unsure if she was making a mess of this. How could she say thought Erin sounded sad on the internet and wanted her to not be sad.

“Are you sure?” Erin questioned lightly. Nora didn’t seem to want to talk about the black eye that’d immediately gotten her attention though, and she didn’t want to press too hard on the subject. It wasn’t really her business, even if it was asked out of concern. Her eyebrows jumped up at the handdrawn tickets in Nora’s hand. “You want to go scuba diving?” It took a moment but one of their last conversations came rushing back and her features softened immediately. “Oh, Nora,” she started, shaking her head with a smile that didn’t hide how much this had amused her. “This is… such a sweet gesture but even if these tickets were real, I can’t just go scuba diving.” Realizing Nora was still standing in the hallway, Erin stepped back and pulled open the door. “Come on in, though. Are you hungry? No. Dumb question--you’re always hungry. I think I have some burgers in the freezer.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you.” Nora made sure to look Erin directly in the eyes as she said it. Normally, Nora wasn’t much of a liar. She didn’t see the point, but she would make a promise to Erin that she wouldn’t lie to her. If there was any concern of it, Nora would ease it right away. “You.. Said you wanted to..” Nora almost stumbled over the words, instantly dumbfounded by the fact that Erin said she couldn’t go after stating she wanted to go. Nora followed Erin to the kitchen, not bothering to deny that she was always hungry. If there was food, she’d eat it. Nora sat on the counter, staring down at her hand drawn tickets. “You said you wanted to get away and scuba dive.” Nora swallowed her words, eyes not moving from the ticket. “And online, you’ve sounded sad. You said, is anyone truly happy? You could be.” Nora mumbled.

Erin met Nora’s eyes, nodding. “I know. I believe you, don’t worry,” she answered. Nora hadn’t lied to her yet as far as she knew and she didn’t believe she’d suddenly start now. “If you want to talk about it though, we can,” she made sure to add. Erin felt as stunned as Nora looked and she narrowed her eyes as she tried to remember that conversation more clearly. “I--yeah, I do. God, I’d love to go scuba diving with you, Nora, seriously. That sounds like so much fun but I can’t just stop everything I’m doing.” That was… obvious, right? She started pulling the burgers out as she spoke, starting to get everything together. “I’m not sad. I mean, not really? I don’t know.” If Nora was being honest with her, surely she owed her that in return? Everything Nora didn’t know about what Erin had been up to in the last six months made her hesitant to burst that bubble. Would she look at her the same? Would she even want to talk to her? She straightened her back, focusing on the burgers. “I could be but things just aren’t that simple, you know?”

“Why not? What’s stopping you?” Erin had said that while the new funeral home was being built she didn’t have much to do. That she actually wanted something to do. Well this was it, something to do. A trip to any ocean to scuba dive anywhere. “The jet can take us any time. There and back.” Work it in. Give yourself something to do. Enjoy a trip. “Everything will still be here when you’re back.” Everything was still here for Nora when she came back, and she was gone for a very long time. Nora understood things just weren’t that simple, hadn’t everything that happened in one week of being back proved as much? But this could be the happy journey. Instead, Nora put down the tickets, and stared blankly at a wall. Unsure what to say. She let time pass instead. “Okay.” She said finally. “We can go whenever you want. When you can.”

Erin felt like she was dashing Nora’s own happiness with her rejection and the guilt simmered low in her stomach. Marley instantly came to mind, pressing at the front of her responsibilities. She told her, over and over that she’d be there for whatever she needed. Wouldn’t instill much faith in the fragile mending process they’d only just begun. “I’m sorry. I really do want to go,” she sighed, stopping momentarily as the burgers started to sizzle on the pan, turning to face Nora properly. “I have a friend here who was hurt really bad recently. She’s okay but she needs someone here to help her out, and that person’s me. But the offer is really, really sweet.” She gave a short smile, putting her hand gently on Nora’s shoulder, trying to be as reassuring as possible. Her eyebrows narrowed when something struck her suddenly. “Wait, did you just say jet?”

“Oh.” Was all the answer Nora gave. Yeah. It was nice that Erin was helping a friend. Erin always helped friends. Nora liked that about Erin. Truth be told Nora liked a lot about Erin, not that she’d ever use her words to admit as much. It really just proved that Erin was the good person Nora thought she was because she would put her friend first. Nora didn’t offer any other words. She didn’t have any to give. She’d came, she’d asked, she’d been told no. Not much else to it. At least she would get a burger out of it. If she’d been a better person she would have asked more about the friend and if there was anything she could do to help. Nora was not a better person. When Erin asked about the jet Nora just shrugged noncommittally. Lots of people had jets. Her family’s jet was nice but it wasn’t anything special. “Yeah. Whenever you want. I’ll set the schedule for it.”

Nora still seemed so disheartened about Erin’s inability to just drop everything, take those handwritten tickets, and just go off with her. Her reasons were valid and it was the responsible thing to do. She would stay firm on that one. “I will take that rain check though,” she said with a smirk, plucking the handmade tickets out of Nora’s hands again. But the only thing she could think about was the jet. “What jet are you talking about?” She asked, taking a better look at the tickets in her hand as she flipped a burger in the pan. Her eyes jumped back up to Nora quizzically. “Are you going to rent a jet?” A thought occurred to her suddenly and panic filled Erin’s eyes. If anyone was going to impulsively do something like that--renting a jet--it was going to be Nora. “Nora, don’t you dare. Do you know how expensive that kind of thing is? I don’t have the money for that and there’s no way I’m going to let you even try to pay for something like that.”

There Erin was going. Talking on and on about how she shouldn't be renting a jet because it was too expensive. Nora blinked once. Blinked twice and then shook her head. “Why would I rent a jet when I own one.” How silly. Nora stared at the burgers that looked almost ready. Her stomach let out a low grumble. She tried to contain it. “Why would you need to pay? I’m not paying either.” Nora sat up, stretching her arms, staring more and more at the burger. “Are they done yet? I’m really hungry.” Nora finally asked, looking instantly like the kid from that one moving, holding out a bowl and asking ‘Please sir may I have another?’

“Of course you have to pay for it. You don’t just fly for free--” Erin started, then stopped mid-flip when another realization dawned on her. “You’re… not going to steal a jet, are you?” She had no evidence that Nora was capable of something like that. But she also carried around snakes and spiders in her pocket, and if their first meeting after a brief conversation online indicated anything, she had no idea what Nora was truly capable of. As she set the finished burgers in front of Nora, she looked her in the eyes, trying to smile. Because this was a joke, right? “You’re not--no. That’s silly. You’d never.” She kept an eye on her. She’d never. Right?

Steal a jet? Why would she steal a jet? “I own a jet.” Nora murmured, full of confusion about this conversation. If she was being actually correct her fathers owned the jet, she just had full access to it. “It’s on call for my family. Whenever.” She did her best in her monotone to stress the word whenever. When Erin wanted to go, she’d get up and she’d go. “I would, though.” Nora admitted with a yawn. If she was in a situation where she needed a jet but couldn’t use her family jet? Sure, she might steal one. She didn’t imagine it would be that hard. In fact, she could practically imagine how easy it would be. “Would you prefer that?”

I own a jet. The statement earned Nora another raised eyebrow. “You own a jet,” Erin repeated, the disbelief thick in her voice, though as she explained she realized that might have been an unfair immediate assumption. Erin didn’t know too much about Nora’s family after all. She straightened, disbelief giving way to uncertainty now. “You own a jet.” The words came out again with less judgment. Her head tilted as it slowly started to sink in. She’d never met anyone who owned a jet, let alone someone offering to actually take her on one. And she especially didn’t expect that person to be Nora. “No. No! Don’t do that. Don’t steal anything. Are you--you’re being serious?”

Nora’s head tilted to the side as Erin asked about the jet, twice. Presumed disbelief. Oh well, that was better than straight up running away. Although, where would Erin run? They were currently in her house. If someone ran away from Nora while she was in their house did that mean Nora owned the house? She’d own a lot of houses. “Well my dad’s do. They won’t be using it for a few months though.” Nora’s eyes drifted back to the sizzling hamburgers. Her stomach gave out another grumble. She hadn’t even known she was hungry until Erin started cooking. Such was life. “Yeah. It wouldn’t be that hard.” Nora was assuming Erin was talking about stealing the jet. “Wouldn’t know how to fly it though. I’d try.” Nora gave a shrug of the shoulders. “Do you know how to?” Erin was talented, it could be true.

The pan crackled behind her, snapping Erin out of the prolonged brain haze she’d found herself in. “Shit,” she cursed, turning to pull the rest of the burgers off of the pan. Browner than she wanted but not quite burned, and she was sure Nora would eat them regardless. Probably. “Sorry, I didn’t--I don’t mean to sound like an ass. I just… didn’t know your family was personal-jet wealthy.” A breath rolled from her, still trying to wrap her head around it, eventually turning into a soft laugh. Nora didn’t seem bothered thankfully so she served the burgers, finally, withholding one for herself. “I don’t. Pilot lessons weren’t really on the mortuary science curriculum unfortunately, though I’d have paid extra for that. And there’s no way you can just steal a jet, Nora. They’d lock you up before those big ol’ paws of yours could even think about padding down a runway.” Erin smirked, chewing thoughtfully as she watched her for a few moments and nodded abruptly, her grin widening hopefully. “Oh! Speaking of family! You and your birth family--how’s that going, anyway?”

Nora wasn’t sure how she was supposed to tell people that her family was ridiculously wealthy. It wasn’t that she wasn’t aware that that was a 1% thing. It was more of a, she just assumed everyone knew already. Where she grew up most people spent all their time gossiping, thus most people knew exactly who was who and how much money their family had. In the end it resulted in Nora just assuming everyone knew. It was a strange adjustment to live in this small town where people apparently had trouble paying bills? Nora took a moment to reflect on all the jobs Blanche and Remmy held.  Too many, thought the girl who’d never had a real job in her life. “...Do you want pilot lessons?” There was no reason for Nora to keep offering Erin gifts. Perhaps, in some part of her mind, Nora assumed that if she didn’t offer value to someone so easily frightened of her, that person wouldn’t want her around. As Erin told Nora that she could never steal a jet, Nora looked down at her hands, imagining her paws in handcuffs. Despite what Erin was saying she knew she could steal a jet and she knew it would be easy. She let the subject fall between them. Instead she chose to eat some of her burger. Nora stopped chewing on that burger as Erin remembered what Nora had said about her birth family. Nora swallowed what was left, suddenly not feeling hungry. Nora took a moment to look away and consider the answer an answer. “It was a false lead.” She licked her lips, her mouth suddenly dry. “Turns out I won’t be able to find them. But. Who knows.”

Erin shook her head softly, a slightly defeated smile on her face. “No, Nora. That’s--I’m fine. I don’t need anything, okay?” Was this something Nora did with everyone she knew, she had to wonder? Maybe she didn’t know better or maybe it was simply the way she expressed her emotions in a nonverbal manner, considering she wasn’t the most chatty person Erin knew. Not that she minded that either. Something felt a little off after that question. Nora’s demeanour changed and she didn’t even touch her next burger. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry, Nora,” she slumped a little, remembering how excited the younger woman had been at the prospect of making contact with her family. She reached out, patting her hand a little and giving it a squeeze before pulling it back into herself. “What happened?” She asked, shaking her head. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Lydia was dead. There were people in her basement. She wasn’t a good person. She’d wanted Nora to be fa-. Nora shrugged it off, sliding off the counter. “Nothing important.” It hurt, that feeling that surrounded the whole conversation. Irked by the knowledge that her real mom’s name had been stolen by a fae and would never be a connection she could use to find the woman. “Thanks for the burger.” Nora nodded at the half eaten burger on the counter. “Sorry for bothering you.” With the most care she could muster, Nora dropped her hand drawn ticket on the counter. “Let me know if you change your mind.” Nora started to slink towards the door, raising a hand over her shoulder in a wave goodbye.

Nora’s insistence that nothing wrong didn’t quell any of Erin’s uncertainties but she knew better than to push here. It felt like something had gone wrong, more than what she was telling her, but if she didn’t want to talk about it, that was that. “No problem,” she nodded and followed Nora to the door. “I’ve been trying to make sure I’ve got at least a pound or two of meat in the freezer now that you’re back. So… if you want to eat and chat, about anything, Nora, you know the food’s here waiting,” she smiled softly and waved back as she left. Went to close the door but hesitated just long enough for doubt to creep in. She pulled the door open and shouted down the hall before Nora got too far. “And please don’t steal any jets!!”

#chatzy #wickedswriting #chatzy: nora #jet lag

[kattahj]

Ten highly acclaimed films I just don't vibe with

Here's my top ten list (in no particular order) of films that other people just looove and I don’t like at all, with comments as to why.

If you're wondering, "What about X film that's also vastly overrated?" chances are I didn't see it. Or maybe I did, and I actually liked it. You can always ask!

I won't be arguing with anyone about these choices, and you can't change my mind.

The Godfather

In fairness, I barely even remember this movie. I just found it really boring. It's the quintessential "serious men do serious things", which is my least favourite genre in the world. (I do have some movies I like even within that umbrella, such as "12 Angry Men" and "Seven Samurai", but they're exceptions from the rule.)

Forrest Gump

Heyyy, let's make a movie that touches on most major issues in modern US history without saying anything of value about any of them! And also, let's make it super schmaltzy and stick an insultingly maudlin portrayal of a person with an intellectual disability in the center!

This is the movie that put me off Tom Hanks. I quite liked him before that, but Hollywood leaned hard into "Tom Hanks can do no wrong, you obviously like Tom Hanks!" with every movie he was in afterwards, while I was all, "I still haven't forgiven you for Forrest Gump."

It was utterly rewarding to hear the song "Gump, the Magic Movie", which addressed at least half of my issues with this film.

Also, sidenote, I read the book the film was based on and found it really heartless and mean-spirited, so they kind of went in two different directions with the same material, and neither was appealing.

The Matrix

Keanu Reeves seems like a good man, but God, is he a boring actor. Though in fairness, everyone in this film has zero personality. The whole thing is too wrapped up in the aesthetics and in philosophical concepts that aren't as mindblowing as the directors think.

Se7en

The serial killer cheats on his own rules. That annoys me. If your schtick is to punish people for their sins, you can't suddenly switch into punishing them for YOUR sins.

Avengers: Infinity War

I like some of the MCU films, but I have found that I much prefer the heroes apart than together. I thought the first Avengers film had about half an hour of good material in it. The two following had substantially less. I didn't bother to see #4. This one consisted mainly of people introducing themselves and explaining plot points to each other, plus boring action scenes.

The Dark Knight Rises

In fairness, I had lots of fun seeing this film, because it was so pompous and I found that so funny. I laughed in a lot of places where I wasn't supposed to. (The FLAG is in TATTERS!) Anne Hathaway was legit likeable, though.

The Shining

I'm mostly lukewarm on The Shining, I don't really hate it, but it just plain doesn't work for me. Mainly because if you want the full horror of a character slowly descending into homicidal mania, it helps if he doesn't start off being a total creep right away. Jack Nicholson isn't credible as anything BUT a giant asshole. Now, The Babadook, that one did it right!

Citizen Kane

Nothing about this guy makes me even the slightest bit curious to learn his secrets.

To Kill a Mockingbird

I don't outright hate this film, but I used to watch "I'll Fly Away" as a kid, which is basically TKAM with black people actually having substantial roles. After that, both book and movie version of TKAM come off as awfully white-centric for a story about racism.

Titanic

It reminded me of John Hughes' most irritating films (i.e. anything with Molly Ringwald), with a super basic, clichéd love story. The main difference being that this film had a gazillion dollar budget. I found it wryly amusing that when it swept up the Oscars, it won pretty much everything EXCEPT script and acting.

Like Forrest Gump did with Tom Hanks, this movie put me off Leonardo DiCaprio. Again, to the world he could do no wrong, to me he had something to make up for.

There's also the fact that it's three hours long and has water sloshing about in the entire final act, which does not make for a fun cinema experience. :-P

I always love Kathy Bates, though. And the orchestra, that was genuinely tragic.

#movies #my opinions

[deathduty]

Stairway to Deirdre || Nora & Deirdre

TIMING: Set after A Portrait of Morgan Grey LOCATION: Deirdre & Morgan’s house PARTIES: @fearfordinner & @deathduty CONTENT: Head trauma tw SUMMARY: Nora wants to visit a friend.

Nora’s last conversation with Morgan had gone really well, but it had left Nora with a burning question. What did Morgan’s actual house look like? The answer was. Rich. Nora didn’t know why that surprised her. Other people were rich, she knew. It was easy to assume that most people in White Crest were poor. They just didn’t have the same…. affect of the ‘too rich for their own good’ people she’d grown up around. The front door had been unlocked. Just as Nora had requested, that must mean Morgan was expecting her. A cat ran by Nora, hissing at her before skittering to a different room. A new friend. Nora nodded at the receding cat before starting to slink around the large house. It looked like it could have been on TV. Not Nora’s taste, but if she was to believe the media it was the ideal set up for homes. 

In Nora’s hands objects were picked up and placed back down. Examined and discarded. Everything was returned to the exact place she’d found it a little bit to the left. She thought that would be a funny joke for Morgan to discover later. Done with the first floor Nora finally decided to check out what secrets the second story held. Hopefully she’d get a glimpse of that bone room Morgan had promised. Morgan had a very impressive spiral staircase. Nora slid her hands on the railings as she ascended the steps, completely transfixed by the light fixture that hung about it. 

Doors were an utter inconvenience to Deirdre. Why houses didn’t adopt the automatic sliding doors featured at grocery stores, she didn’t know. And while technology was often confusing to her, and though she was fond of her dated family home, she just really hated the inconvenience of a door. Maybe that was why she had forgotten to lock the front door—locks were an even greater inconvenience—or why she had been staring at her bedroom door for minutes, hoping it would magically open. She’d really have to teach the cats how to open doors for her, one of these days. But finally mustering the strength to turn a door knob, she exited into the hall, and had begun her descent to procure some fruits for snacking, when she froze. She adjusted her silk robe, to make sure nothing was exposed, and stared. Then blinked. Then stared some more. “Who the fuck are you?” But there was one easy answer to strangers on a staircase, her staircase. Deirdre reached out, and with practiced ease and great delight, she shoved the stranger down. 

A woman in silk robes emerged from an upstairs room. It wasn’t Morgan. Nora wondered who it was. Nora even considered asking ‘Who are you’, but the woman spoke first and she thought it would be polite to not speak over her. So instead she opened her mouth to answer. The only thing that came out of that open mouth was a soft “Oh.” As she suddenly found herself being shoved down the stairs. First there was bouncing, limbs and head slapping on carpeted steps until finally there was sliding. In an attempt to defend herself Nora did the only thing she could think of. She shifted. Her clothes tore around her, her body quadrupled in size and the bear emerged. When she got to the bottom of the stairs, the only thing she could really think about was the pain coursing through her body. Staggering  up to her four legs Nora looked up the stairs, asking “Why did you do that?” Of course she had a bear’s mouth with a bear’s vocal cords. It came out more of a mournful yodel, something that Babadook would be proud of. 

There was a bear. For all the shoving of people Deirdre had done, none of them had ever turned into a bear. Deirdre’s eyes rose up and she turned back to her bedroom. She closed the door, a horrible unnecessary thing, and then opened it again, emerging as she just had. Again, there was a bear at the bottom of her steps. “I’m sorry,” she blinked, “I think I must be in a dream. Or perhaps I’m the one who suffered a tumble down the stairs. But you appear to be a bear.” And she was the one talking to the bear, which wasn’t any better. But the bear noises were commendable, almost as great as her screams. In honour of them, and in an attempt to communicate, she offered her own yodels, more like Irish lilting. “What do you want from me?” She gave up after a moment, demanding answers from the bear. If this was a dream, it was a terrible one. Where was the naked Morgan? Or the bones? Or Kaden being set on fire? Or all three at once? 

Nora looked down at the bottom of the stairs where she’d fallen, up the stairs to where the lady still stood. She looked familiar, in a ‘might have seen her picture before’ way but Nora couldn’t quite place it. Probably due to the fact that her brain had just been rattled around in her head. Yodeling again, Nora got her front paws on the first step again. “You made me bear myself.” The bear tried to say, the words colliding into meaningless bear noises. With her two front paws on the first step, Nora realized that she had no clue how to walk up stairs when she was this big. The length of her paw was about the width of the stair. She, in her rattled state, instead of thinking it through decided to stand on her two bear hindlegs. She used the railing to hoist her giant upper half up. “Why did you push me down the stairs?” 

Did bears eat fae? Deirdre considered this as the bear appeared to be climbing up to get her. A supernatural deer had ravaged her home, once. And somehow, the bear was still more strange. “I know I look delectable—I am, as the kids say, a snack—but you shouldn’t let looks deceive you.” Well, if the bear ate her, then she supposed she really did deserve that. She’d known a few to snack on pixies, but really, with the way those things zipped around, even she’d thought about chomping on a couple just to shut them up (she loved them as she loved  all fae, she would remind anyone who asked). The bear continued its rumbling and Deirdre thought she might have seen a spark of intelligence in its eyes, or maybe that was just the chandelier’s reflection.  “I can give you fish,” she finally offered. They’re must have been some salmon in the freezer, beside the brains.

A snack? Nora didn’t eat people. Although, she had some questions about what people would taste like. Someone once said chicken, but she doubted the strange on that internet form had actually eaten human. Weren’t there tonnes of creatures in the surrounded forest that ate people? They liked the taste of humans. No no, Nora had decided long ago that normal meat was enough for her. Fish? The offer was on the table, and Nora with her grumbly tummy was always hungry. As she started struggling her way up the stairs, a pain still throbbing in the back of her head she sang in bear “I am short, fat, and proud of that and so with all my might I up, down, up-down to my appetite's delight. While I up, down, touch the ground I think of things to chew, Mmm, like honey, milk, and chocolate, with a hefty-happy appetite. I'm a hefty-happy Pooh.” For reasons surely unknown, Nora had always loved the Disney character Winnie the Pooh. Of course the whole thing just looked like a yodeling bear climbing up the stairs to maybe eat the human, not asking for the proffered fish. 

Weirdly, it was like the bear was singing at Deirdre. Whatever had happened for her to hallucinate this, it must have been potent; singing bears were her least favourite kind of bear. But she noted the song-song quality of the bear’s yodels now; quite beautiful, if only she weren’t so confused. Well, there was just one way to deal with strange hallucinations. Some silly people might have suggested pinching herself to confirm reality, but Deirdre much preferred her own technique. She reached out, prised the bear’s paws up, and shoved it down the stairs. All of this was done swiftly, as she was trained for excellence, not deliberation, but it felt awfully slow in her head. But the bear had felt real, and so, after throwing someone down a flight of stairs twice, she deduced that this was not a dream. 

It was the shock, wasn't it? As Nora once more found herself bouncing then sliding down the stairs, her limbs going everywhere and the carpet sliding against her, she instinctively changed back. Blood trickled down her arm, her left eye pulsed and a searing pain with shooting through her left shoulder. “Ow.” She mumbled. Having landed securely on a pile of her torn clothes, the naked Nora did absolutely nothing to change this situation. She hurt and quite frankly she wasn’t here for it. The second fall had knocked a little bit of sense in her, if climbing up the stairs resulted in pain, then stay at the bottom of the stairs. Nora opened her mouth to try and say something like, why did you push me? Or Who are you. Instead all that came out with a second, less monotoned “Ow.” 

But the only thing worse than a bear at the bottom of her steps, was a naked, injured person. Deirdre finally went down, staring at the stranger. “Are you okay?” She asked, with all the concern of a woman who hadn’t just shoved this intruder down the stairs. Twice. Although, she hadn’t exactly figured out why the stranger had been a bear for some of it. But along with the memory of fur under her fingers, the torn clothes also told her she hadn’t just imagined it. “You’re bleeding,” she stated, though moved not an inch to help. Instead, she shrugged off her silk robe and tossed it upon the stranger, as if discarding it into the trash. Now she was the naked one, which was usually how she liked things. In her shock, she just couldn’t figure out what she was supposed to do. She imagined the silk robe helped, somehow. “Are you okay?” She asked again. 

There was a world of questions Nora expected someone to ask in that situation. The question Nora hadn’t expected was the one she got. ‘Are you okay?’ Are you okay from the woman who pushed her down the stairs. Nora stared up at the lady, brown hair, brown eyes, beautiful facial structure. The light structure above them made a perfect halo around her face, framing her how she imagined an angel was framed standing above Lucifer as he fell. “You…” Nora’s mouth felt dry as she tried to speak through the pain going through her. “You.. never showed up for our wedding.” She finally recognized the woman standing over her. Deirdre. Her poor brain, that had been rattled around alot decided this was more than enough for Nora today. Darkness overwhelmed her as unconsciousness greeted her. 

“Oh,” Deirdre said. “Nora.” She wasn’t sure what she expected Nora to look like, but a bear and naked were not among the considerations. Lydia did say Nora wasn’t human, so there was that. What were those things that turned into bears? Boob-bears? That explained the nudity. “Well, this is just funny, isn’t it, Nora?” She paused. “Nora?” Deirdre nudged the slumped body with ehr foot. “Noooooraaaaaaaa?” She waited. Oh well. Deirdre stepped over the body with a whistle, off to get her fruits. She picked the salmon out of the freezer and a pillow from the couch on her way back to the staircase. She wiggled the pillow under Nora’s head, noticing the dark coloring forming around her left eye. She put the frozen fish there. Nora wasn’t dead, which according to Deirdre, meant there was no cause for concern. Not that she had much concern to begin with. She noticed the bleeding arm and shifted the silk robe to lay on top as a sort of expensive, ineffective bandage. She shrugged, good enough. And then she went about the rest of her day, Nora forgotten and salmon left to defrost on her purple eye--which was also promptly forgotten. Vaguely, she thought she might invest in some home security, but she didn’t know why the thought came to her. Oh well, must not have been important.

#wickedswriting #c: nora #chatzy #stairway to deirdre #head trauma tw #(not in excessive detail but its there) #this is set before lydia #also i love ishie so much #this was.....everything i wanted in my life #SOFT

[chasseurdeloup-retired]

Striker Down || Nora and Kaden

TIMING: After the mime bombing and after sad Blank PARTIES: @fearfordinner and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: Kaden promised to go deer hunting with Nora. No deer were harmed in this chazty.

Kaden had almost forgotten that he promised a hunting lesson. One that wasn’t supernatural related to boot. To be honest, he had no fucking clue what he was doing. Still, he set up the weapons he’d brought with him, making sure they were all polished off and ready for use. Not that anyone but him would care quite so much. He took out with him to the woods a compound bow (Striker), his crossbow (Redemption), and a couple of shotguns (Corpsemaker and Thunder). Seemed like good game hunting weapons, right? As much as he was tempted to bring the full chest full of weapons with him, he didn’t need anyone normal to see his full collection and kit, chock full of silver, stakes, holy water, some cast iron pokers, and salt. Among other things. While wiping off a finger print or two from Redemption, it occurred to him that maybe hunting deer wasn’t a thing that people did at night. Too late now. He was thinking she might not show or get lost on the way to the coordinates he gave when he heard what sounded like footfall in the distance. “Over here,”  he called out to what hoped was Nora. Granted if it turned out it wasn’t her, he was holding a crossbow. Should be fine. What could go wrong?

Life had been kinda boring lately. Nora hadn’t been going out and scaring people as much as she’d previously been doing. It was a shame. But it was a fixable shame. That was why when Kaden finally reached out to Nora to let her know that they could go hunting Nora was ecstatic. It was a time to fix all of that. Babadook and Nora came up with the perfect plan to scare Nora and she was thrilled to get it underway.  ‘Over here.’ Nora could smell him before she saw him, but the call was a nice little greeting. She wandered over and looked down at the weapon display. She’d never used a weapon before, her illusions were mostly enough to scare her food. She pointed at the compound bow, her deep secret fantasy of being Kiera Knightly in Princess of Thieves quickly coming to mind. “I want to use that one.” She announced in lieu of greeting.

Kaden wasn’t sure what to expect from all this. He’d tried to keep his mind open, what he knew of Nora was that she was pretty weird. Somehow he still didn’t anticipate this. His brow shot up when she gestured to the bow. “Hello to you, too.” Part of him wanted to stand in front of the weapon protectively. Weird instinct, sure, but she just seemed so eager. How did he know she wasn’t going to break Striker? He’d been through a lot with that bow. It took down at least two wolves. He gave her a good one over before grabbing it. “You ever used one of these before? I’m not about to hand off my shit to someone who doesn't have a clue what they’re doing.” He kept his hand wrapped tight around the grip as he held the bow towards her. “Don’t lie to me and act like a badass, either. I don’t need to take an arrow to the knee today. Or ever.”

Kaden was talking a lot, and none of it was ‘Great, here hold this bow lets go shoot some deer.’ Which, not to be dramatic, Nora found very disheartening. “I went to camp once.” Nora answered, there had been bows at camp. There had also been the incident that was the reason she was never allowed to go back to camp, but that wasn’t something Kaden needed to know about. “I’ve watched every Robin Hood movie adaption made to man.” Nora added, as like a supplemental course material. She hoped this would be like when schools give you credits for community service and what not. “I didn’t know I had to bring my own weapon, I don’t own one.” Nora also added. She reached into one of her many jacket pockets and pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels. “I brought this.”

Kaden stood there for a moment, blinking, waiting for an actual explanation to come. Once he was positive he wasn’t going to get any sort of actual answer from her, he sighed and handed her the fucking bow. “Just be nice to it, alright. You break it--” His lips formed a thin line as he cut himself off, unsure of what the hell the consequences would actually be if she did break his shit. He wasn’t going to kill her but he was probably going to want to. With his free hand, he reached out for the whiskey bottle. A great idea while using weapons? No. Something he was positive he was going to need to get through this whole thing? Yes. “You know anything about tracking deer?” he asked as he opened the bottle of Jack to take a swig. He hoped she had an answer. Because he sure didn’t know how to find a deer. A hedge hound? Sure. A shriken? A buggane? Absolutely. Normal game? Fuck if he knew.

“I buy it?” Nora asked, taking the bow. If it wasn’t for her face’s complete inability to express any kind of emotion there might have been a huge grin on it. Instead she looked like a tax auditor examining a nice spreadsheet for the third time that day. Enough time has passed to wake up that the drowsiness is gone from the face, the excitement of finding a second nice spreadsheet is gone, and finally it’s just all business. Straight and serious. “Sure.” Nora stuck her nose up and took in a deep breath. “I don’t smell any around, but we’re upwind. They could be behind us.” She also wasn’t very confident in smelling deer. They weren’t her normal prey. She grabbed the bottle from Kaden and took a big swig before offering back. “What now?” There was also the small side not that she knew Babadook had scared away all the deer in the area. This was ‘Plan Scare Kaden with demon dog!’ not ‘Actually Kill a Deer Day.’

“Uh, yeah, if you can. Sure.” Kaden hoped he’d at least know how worried he should be once she had the weapon in her hands. He was soon disappointed. It was impressive how not one ounce of emotion passed across her face as she took the bow. Not one. That didn’t exactly help settle his worries. Kaden’s face scrunched together, trying to figure out why the hell she thought she could smell deer. Then again, it was entirely possible that was actually how you hunted deer. Sniffing for werewolves? Sure. That made sense. They smelled like shit. He didn’t think bambi did, though. Not that he’d know. “We, uh, we…” He was about to just take another drink of the whiskey and try to come up with more bullshit when he heard something in the distance. Off to his left. His head shot towards the source of the sound and he held up a finger to his mouth, hoping she’d get the hint. He couldn’t say what it was. Just that it probably wasn’t deer.

Nora, a woman of very little words, saw Kaden put a finger up to his mouth and instantly thought ‘Well now I have to speak just to spite him.’ “What is it?” Nora asked, mustering all the power in her diaphragm to make her monotone voice as loud as possible without outright shouting. Her own nose moved to the air, whatever it was, it did not smell like deer. Of course that was up to the master hunter himself to learn. Without waiting for him to give instruction, Nora silently began to head towards the noise. Whatever it was, she wanted to see it.

Kaden turned his head and stared at her, mouth agape. Was she fucking serious? What part of the universal sign for "be quiet” did she misunderstand? And then she fucking walked towards the potential danger. Putain. He sighed and rolled his eyes before following after her, grabbing his crossbow as he followed her. Of course she fucking walked head first right towards the sound that was probably not from a deer. "Come back," he whispered sharply as he trailed behind her. As they entered the clearing, there was no fucking mistking it. That dog-like thing with tentacles was not a deer. He reached out to grab her arm and force her to stop fucking walking towards the goddamn monster. “Wait!” he snapped, voice low and quiet.

The random man on the internet who had agreed to go hunting with her seemed to be full of regret now, as he kept whispering ‘Come back’ and ‘Wait’. Nora did not come back or wait. Instead she walked into the open clearing and stepped closer, a hand instantly reaching into one of her many pockets to fish out for some meat. Whatever this dog with tentacles was, Nora was instantly in love. Well, she had been when she first found the dog weeks ago on a walk. The love was still there, but now they also had a familiarity they were playing down. All for the sake of Kaden. The true target of the hunt. A lot of dogs weren’t fond of her, it was probably the smell of hulking beast behind the small woman that off put them. As Nora stepped closer her first thought was ‘oh no it’s bleeding.’ Bloody tissue mixed with exposed bone giving the dog the perfect ‘Just been attacked and i’m in pain’ look. It let out a mournful howl as Nora got closer. “No, shhhh, you’re fine. See! I have…” Nora finished fishing in her pockets and pulled out a chunk of ham. “Ham. I have ham.”

Were residents of this town really so stupid that they’d walk right up to a fucking monster like it was a perfectly safe house pet? Or was that just her? Hard to say. Kaden rushed forward, knife in hand, ready to protect them from the dangerous monster who was… howling in pain and practically asking her to be pet. Alright then. He still kept his crossbow at the ready, aimed at the monster. “Are you feeding it?” he asked in disbelief. The beast was disgusting and while he was pretty sure it wouldn’t attack, you never knew with monsters. “Back away, it’s not safe. I’ll take care of it and we can go find deer.”

“Of course I’m feeding it.” What did he think? The ham was for him. Well. It would have been if they hadn’t found the most beautiful dog Nora had ever seen. Nora approached slowly, arm outstretched with ham upon open palm as she got closer. The dog seemed interested. It didn’t back away at least. It’s tentacles swayed mesmerizingly. More dogs should have tentacles, Nora decided. It would make the world a better place. “I’ll take care of it.” Nora announced. The dog came forward to eat the ham in a large gulping motion that Nora could relate to in a personal way.

Every one of Kaden’s instincts told him to shoot the monster, keep it from hurting anyone. Even if he knew that yeth hounds weren’t always aggressive, the fact that it was a monster was enough, right? Yes. It was. His crossbow remained trained on the monster. There was no way to take it down with her standing in the way or without injuring her. Well, he could hit a tentacle. “That’s not what I meant,” he said, keeping his eye fixed on the monster. If it tried anything, he was shooting. “Now back aw--” Before he could finish, one of the tentacles whipped around and thwacked at Kaden’s ankles, knocking him off balance. The crossbow went off and the bolt dug deep into one of the other tentacles. Putain.

Anger like she’d never felt before rose in Nora. What had he not comprehended when she said that she would take care of it. Visibly shaking Nora turned as Kaden let a cross bolt out. Without thinking, without considering the weapon in his hand Nora felt herself shift into a transformation. The bear form took over and she lept in front of her new friend the Yeth Hound letting out the most horrible and terrible yodel she could do as a bear. Sure she couldn’t touch him if he wasn’t scared but she’d make sure he was scared. She started filling the clearing with illusions. Whispers were mocking him, calling his dumb, ugly, a bad shot, worthless, saying that his parents never loved him and no one would ever love him. Hands and eyes started appearing around tree branches, creeping closer towards him. He would not harm this innocent dog if Nora had anything to say about it.

Pain shot through his back as he turned to push himself back up from the ground. Kaden knew he couldn’t stay down long, not after engaging with a monster. Wait. What was-- Was Nora turning into a bear? Putain. He groaned and half of him wanted to just lay there. For fuck’s sake, a bugbear? Really? Of course she was drawn to the fucking yeth hound, he should have seen it coming. His annoyance didn’t linger long, though. The sharp claws, the horrible howl, that was enough to send him scrambling backwards on his hands. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. His heart pounded in his chest as he started hearing scathing words and seeing the forest close in around him. Deep breaths, hee had to take deep breaths. No time to let panic set in. They weren't real. That bear was. He pushed himself up and lunged for his crossbow, grabbing his bolts and shoving one in the weapon and letting it loose at the bear as quick as he could. It might buy him time. He sure fucking hoped it did as he turned to high tail it out of there. Fuck. Striker was still there, under her. Putain. He really liked that bow. He paused and turned again and let out another shot. Maybe he should let it go. Fuck.

Nora could taste his fear. It was a kaleidoscope of scents mixing into one delectable course. At least something good would come out of this. Nora took it in, feasting as she made the whispers ever louder. “You’re no good, Kaden. You’ll never be good. You’re just. Like. Your. Father.” That last one as from a Vine nora thought was funny. Imagine yelling at a duck. Nora was too busy feasting that she didn’t see the crossbow bolt coming. Even if she had, she probably wouldn’t have moved. Nora wasn’t the kind of person to believe others would hurt her. Pain shot through her, coursing its way through her thick hide. Her breath caught, a grunt of a yoodle came out and she found herself shivering. Behind her Babadook, realizing that the plan had gone wrong from his own wound and hers licked her reassuringly. Nora forced herself to keep scaring him. Raising on her hind legs she let out another loud, ear shattering yodle. This time when she came down on all fours her front paws landed right on top of Striker, splintering the wood beneath her giant paws.

Kaden’s hands shot up to cover his ears as the bear reared up and screamed, wincing at the sound piercing his eardrums. It didn’t do much to help, not with the crossbow still in hand, but it did stun him into standing still for the moment. When he felt the ground rumble, he opened his eyes to see the bear back on all fours. And his beautiful bow crushed underneath her paws. Merde. “Fucking bugbear,” he grumbled ass he turned to just fucking book it. He planned to find the other weapons he’d brought, grab them, and go. As much as liked the idea of taking down a bugbear, it wasn’t a secret that he was taking Nora hunting. If she went missing and was found with crossbow bolts and bullets in her, it’d be fucking bad. He couldn’t have that. Not to mention he almost liked-- No. That was before he knew. She fucking attacked him after the hound tried to take him out. She was a monster. He killed those. It was simple. It had to be. Right? Fuck. He ran to his car, weapons in hand, and threw them in the back. The car reved and squealed as he booked it the fuck out of there, trying to push away the weird throughts trying seep into his mind.

Kaden ran. Nora could hear him running as she shifted back into a human. The bolt came with her. Nora leaned against babadook, both of them breathing heavily from their wounds, both of them dripping blood around the bolts sticking out of them. “Well, boy, that didn’t go to plan.” Nora tried to laugh but the movement shot pains up her side. She groaned, gripping at her side. The bottle of Jack Daniels was with her shredded clothes and Nora crawled for it, every action causing her an insurmountable amount of pain. “What do you think a bugbear is?” Nora asked the Yeth Hound, taking a large sip of the alcohol before offering it to the demon dog. The bottle, she noted, was now sticky with blood where she had grabbed. Oh fuck. She was going to need to call someone quick.

#wickedswriting #chatzy #writing #striker down #nora #fearfordinner

[violetsystems]

#personal

Because of the Internet, cycles of things don’t really follow the same pattern as the older generation is used to.  They think they know obviously.  Their favorite game is called human capital and we are the pawns, bishops and knights on the chessboard for them to sacrifice.  I’m forced to read a lot of financial opinions as an outsider.  For somebody in the aforementioned camp, Mario Gabelli had at least acknowledged that the Fortnite generation has been slowly growing up.  Apps like Robinhood have opened the market up to steal your hard earned pennies.  And then accounts get hacked, money gets stolen, and the older generation laughs and shakes it’s head.  You stupid kids and your lack of motivation.  If you didn’t spend all your time living your life instead of making us money.  I think he forgets like most boomers do that there’s an entire generation after them that was born and bred on Tron.  I didn’t land into the stock market after playing Call of Duty with my bros to be honest.  I melted down a twenty year pension from a place of employment that ghosted, derezzed and ignored my entire identity.  Other people might have traded online through simulations, harvested their bitcoin at the behest of their electric bill or just have rich parents,  I’m not like other people.  We all have figured this out after how many years of writing these to an invisible tribunal of amazing people.  I often read these other perspectives about the financial industry controlled by pundits, investors, and people who generally talk down to the little person like me.  We are what people refer to as “the retail investor.”  We’re written about like the plague mostly because nobody can really control our strategies or bully us into submission.  Much of the idea of retirement is hinged on investments in America.  Social Security is about to run out at some point.  My generation will probably be the first to see my government stiff the bill and run away.  Corporations and working for them at times can be a whirlwind of interconnected dots.  Money and loss on paper becomes a zero sum shell game for the rich.  It’s not about the work you do.  It’s about the money you spend for them.  Donald Trump took a loss for almost two decades which is incidentally how long I was gainfully employed.  A typical artist in America can take a hobby loss for up to five years.  The same artists with no healthcare to speak of.  The fiscal cliff that we all dread is nowhere reflected in the markets.  Neither is the actual driving force behind their profit.  America is a consumer based economy and America is simultaneously shrinking and bursting at the seams.  These are all stitched together by a frail, aging ideology that doesn’t want to let go.  Generation X’ers like myself are used to being forgotten about.  I travelled the world looking for someone to look at me as more than a number.  And now people follow me around because I’m a name on their company registry.  But nobody really ever speaks to me directly.  I’m a dataset and a demographic that only speaks as a number on paper.  Until I do things that the financial elite can’t stand.  I make a decision that is based on things they don’t value.  I choose to put my money elsewhere.  And this is why people hate us.  Because you can’t speculate on chaos that you do not control.  And America is simply profit off of speculation which is a value amounted to 20.83 trillion dollars in debt.  Which doesn’t sound much like it’s in control of anything except printing money.

I grew up on computers.  My mother helped me start my first bulletin board system.  I had my very first phone line in my bedroom around the time wargames came out.  I used to post the number on boards before I had even set up a system like Telegard.  I would advertise it like a mysterious military site out of a Gibson book.  People would call and the modem would pick up the carrier tone and dump them to a blank monochrome screen.  From there my twelve year old self would punk people into thinking I was an AI.  Years later I found a twenty year career in Information Technology in the Arts which abandoned me in a wholly disturbing way.  My knowledge of computers still stayed and those skills kept me alive in these times.  I grew up playing games because I had no friends and suffered horrible bullying.  I was an only child who was ridiculously intelligent but often quiet and ignored.  Years later it’s not so much different.  The bullying is still out there.  America rewards the loud and the forthcoming mostly because it is too lazy to seek out the nuances.  Convenience has warped America’s attention span beyond the regular flow of time.  Computers and connection over the years have rapidly accelerated the dominance of these ideals.  Jobs exist all over the world these days.  Most of the ones I’ve been interested in have been in China.  But due to the circumstances of my situation, I was forced to take a larger sum of income this year than I would have liked.  Sounds terrible right?  No shortage of people trying to scam me into spending it.  Any further income accrued this year becomes taxed horribly.  Ironically, the Illinois fair tax law changes the game even further as retirement income was not taxed before the amendment.  If passed, any retirement income that was not with held will be owed.  Another round of layoffs to liquidate pensions from the bottom line in cities like ours will definitely affect people worse than me down the road.  I’ve been stumbling through the process alone since the end of July.  A lot of what I had done was to part out and budget money in my own way playing a waiting game that I’ve grown used to in my life.  I am at the peak of stagnancy at the moment.  Staring out at another blank screen typing into the void every week while people lift bits and pieces for their own convenient narrative of me and my value in human capital.  Headhunters no longer stalk the internet.  They follow you around in the street with forced intimidation expecting you to read into what they think you deserve to spend the rest of your life doing.  All the while trying to wrap you up back into an ecosystem for less pay, shrinking benefits, and an economic ecosystem of investments of both human and monetary.  Debtors are paired with debtors.  Marriages are arranged for tax purposes and rich oligarchs with political ties find more ways to pay less.  And yet they never really understand the power of connection they do not have.  They don’t communicate.  They project.  They expect you to believe that we’re all in this together when they never hear a word you say.  The only time they listen is when you take your money away.  I’m single.  Never been married.  An only child.  And pretty much an exile on Wall Street with more liquidity and equity suddenly than most people in America.  And much like everyone paying more taxes to a government that has basically turned into a formulaic limp dick reality show.

A reality show that treats me like the Babadook at best these days.  I can’t even leave my house anymore without somebody following me or watching me.  I realize this might just be the hazards of my next pivot into global employment.   I thought these long forms of prose were enough of a background check for the FBI at this point.  It’s called “transparency and accountability” Scully.  I realize ethics aren’t a valuable skill in America.  But the utter lack of human emotion for my situation speaks volumes to me.  And it should be a wakeup call for most who live and work in this dangerous time.  They really don’t give a fuck about us in such a comedic way that they don’t realize our power.  Our power is confidence and they find ways to undermine it.  Tell you that you aren’t beautiful enough so that you spend more money on things you do not need.  Ignore and isolate you until you breakdown and ask for their help.  Until you treat yourself in bankruptcy so they can print more money.  These times are abusive at best in a way that I have never been prepared for.  But those on top don’t really understand how it feels to be under the thumb for years.  I do.  Corporations aren’t human and neither are most rich people.  I realize that life here is literally all about money.  Last night was a very good example of that when I read the news about a game I played shutting down.  I cried because it was the only thing connecting me to anything social without being overbearing and weird.  And I had invested a sizeable amount of my pension in the thought that this might keep the ecosystem alive.  The lesser of two evils of investing.  Put money where you think it will be used fairly and wisely.  Water the garden and watch it grow.  The amazon stock is literally over three grand per share.  They own everything.  They’ve shattered their profits due to the shift from COVID to delivery.  Small businesses shutter.  Hard artistic work is pissed to the wind.  And people like myself are left to wonder why the fuck Jeff Bezos needs any more money from me to treat me like a fucking lab rat.  These companies do not give a fuck about you as a person.  They want your money.  They want to leverage your image, your words, your narrative to push something that doesn’t benefit you at all.  There is no excuse for me to be invisible after all these years let alone from what happened to me in July.  And yet, there is no real way to get back at it.  Other than to completely divest from something that only hurts.  Capitalism is funny that way.  It desperately wants your participation to stay alive.  A two trillion dollar company like Apple cares only about the cut for their investors not the art that drives these bricks that become obsolete in two years.  The reason the old generation is contentious to us is that we see the scam in broad daylight.  We trolled you behind the scenes.  And when we learn the truth, it hurts.  We can always hurt back.  I divest.  I decouple.  I wonder what motivates me as a human being and not a bottom line for some rich fuck who got their way scamming people into thinking they’re worth less so they could have more.  The internet moves pretty fast.  It can all fall apart in a keystroke.  And these people will still be making excuses and not staring us point blank in the eye.  I’ll still be playing video games and you’ll still be investing in what you think you know about me.  Which last time I checked is jack shit other than the fact that it’s safe enough to plant a nuclear physicist under my apartment for a year without me knowing.  Shall we play a game?  See you at the opening bell Jeff!

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

Back to Haunt Me

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Light Angst

Word count: 12301

Summary: Simon Snow hasn't heard from his former roommate in years. So when he gets a call from him, he's equal parts confused and intrigued. Based on "I called you at 2am because I need you" request from @god-themself

Read on AO3

AN: I'm really sorry for how long these requests are taking, oy. Every time I start writing, the fic ends up getting longer and my stupid body decides to crap out and not work. Anyway, here's the latest fic. Hope you enjoy it :)

———————————————

Simon

I’m sitting upside down on my couch when I get the call.

It’s not something I do too often, just when I’m really, really stuck on something. I say that ideas pool in my feet and this lets them trickle down to my head. Penny thinks it’s absolutely ridiculous. She says it will give me headaches, and it does, but it also helps. I’ve been stuck for an hour on coming up with new lessons. This is my last resort.

So I’m laying upside down on my small couch, legs up in the air, face turning a very bright shade of red. My glasses slipped off a while ago, making me essentially blind to anything more than five feet away. My mind is swimming with new ideas for maths games and art projects, the mental images almost swirling past my blurry vision.

And when I’m deep in contemplation a new history Kahoot, my phone blares out my “Toxic” ringtone. (Britney is amazing and haters can fuck off.) I flip up way too fast, making my vision spin like water in a toilet bowl. I paw at my phone while I wobble back and forth. With the combination of my glasses on the floor and blood rushing from my head, I don’t bother to read the caller ID. Or lack thereof.

“Hello?” I say shakily, still clutching my head.

“Siiiiimon,” a low, slurring, strangely familiar voice says. Is a student prank calling me again? Dammit, I thought I scolded them enough.

“Jeremy, if that’s you, this isn’t funny. This is my personal mobile and you-”

“Aw, did you already forget me, Snow?” the person continues, and my heart suddenly freezes. “It hasn’t been that long has it? Only seven years.”

My jaw drops and I sit ramrod straight. Every vein in my body turns ice cold. Holy. Fucking, Shit. “Baz?!”

“Yes, it is I. Good evening, Snow,” he snorts, but there’s still that weird waver to his voice.

“A-Are you drunk?”

“Ding ding, we have a winner in every category,” he giggles. Fucking giggles. I don’t think I ever heard him let out so much as a chuckle in all the years I lived with him. He must be very drunk.

“Um, how did you get my number?”

“Remember when you got mysterious calls supposedly from the Babadook when we were fifteen? Surprise! That was me! Got your mobile off the school registry.”

My mouth falls open even more. “I knew that was you!”

“Duh!” There’s some shuffling on the other end. “Shush! Yes, I actually have him on the line. I’ll get him to come.” He’s definitely not talking to me. He lets out a long sigh. “I’m sorry about that, Snow. Super sorry, for everything I did back in school. So please don’t hang up.”

Admittedly, I was going to. But he sounds so pathetic and drunk, so I stay on. “Alright,” I sigh. “I’m still here.”

“Hooray!” There’s a short stretch of silence. He doesn’t continue, so I have to pipe up again.

“Baz,” I say, “not to be rude, but, uh, why are you drunk calling me? We haven’t seen each other in awhile and it’s...” I scramble to grab my glasses, then look at my wall clock. “After two in the morning. Plus, you like, hate me.”

“No,” he slurs out. He sounds well pissed. “I don’t hate you, Snow. You’re too much of a kind brave hero to hate.”

“Um, thank you?”

He laughs loudly. I’ve heard him laugh more in the last five minutes than I did our entire childhoods. “You’re very, very welcome.”

Again with the silence. I can’t believe I’m the one talking more between us. “So... why are you calling? You wanna catch up or something?”

Baz lets out a long, low groan. For some reason, I imagine him slumping against a wall or something. “I bloody wish. Stupid barkeep won’t let me leave until I call someone to get me and my stupid friends and stupid aunt won’t pick up.”

“So you decided to call me?!”

“You’re the only other person I know who lives in London.”

“Who told you I lived in London?”

“Aggie. Said you had a cute little flat and a cute little cat.” He giggles, and I can almost picture a dopey smile on his usually frowning face. It looks so weird and wrong. “Hey, that rhymes.”

I sit even more upright. “Wait, Aggie? As in Agatha?! Are you two dating now?!”

He scoffs. Now that really reminds me of our school days. “No, Snow, I’m not dating your ex. She’s not my type.”

“That’s rude. Agatha is very pretty.”

“I mean that she’s not a man, Snow.”

My face immediately turns scarlet, and this time not from being upside down. “O-Oh. You’re gay?”

“Once again, duh!”

“Fuck off, you flirted with her all the time!”

“Nuh-uh.” He sounds like a bloody obnoxious American. “Not really. Just did that to piss you off.”

“I’m hanging up,” I growl.

“Wait!” Baz shouts as I move the phone off my ear. “Please don’t hang up, Simon. Fucking hell, I need you.”

I seriously debate actually hanging up. But there’s something in his voice that tugs at my chest. It’s weird and explainable, but it’s there. I slowly bring the phone back to my ear. “You need me?”

“Yeah,” he groans. “I’m drunk as fuck and uh...yeah, I’m still bleeding.”

My pulse goes wild instantly. “Bleeding?! Are you hurt?!”

“Yeah, but you should see the other bloke,” he laughs proudly. “Bartender says if someone doesn’t pick me up and take me home, she’s calling the police to come get me. Doesn’t trust me with an Uber or something.” Baz makes a weird yet familiar sound. Is...is Baz Pitch sticking his tongue out at someone? What the fuck has happened in the last seven years?

“Alright,” I sigh. “Where are you?”

“Yay! I am...” He takes a long pause, which gives me time to rub my aching temple. “Hey, where am I?”

There’s more rustling and some muffled yelling. “He’s at XOYO,” a stern woman’s voice says. “32-37 Cowper St, second floor. We’re closing in an hour so get here soon.”

Before I can say anything else, the phone clicks off. I stay frozen for a moment. My brain is still playing a bit of catch up. So, Baz bloody Pitch has called me out of the blue after seven years, drunk off his arrogant arse, apparently gay, and needs me to pick him up. And now he’s sorry for being a dick to me through our entire time in school? That’s nice. Few years too late if you ask me, but better late than never I suppose.

I look down at all my notes, the ones I have to finish in a few weeks before the new school year. If I were a worse person, I would forget about Baz, finish my lessons, and just go to bed. He’s my former bully, I shouldn’t care. But when I think about Baz, drunk, bleeding, sitting there alone at a bar waiting for me but I never show up, my stomach plummets to the centre of the Earth.

Godammit.

I march towards the door, grab my keys, and set out to fulfill a bad idea.

Turns out this bar is right in the middle of bloody Shoreditch. Which means at this time of night (or morning), there’s lots of closing nightclubs and stumbling drunk people being sick on the sidewalk. Glad I didn’t take the tube.

XOYO is a mostly nondescript red brick building with some black panelling and a neon red sign. I park as close as I can, which is not that close. The stairs up to the club are steep and leave me panting by the end. Bloody hell, I need to get back to the gym. Chasing ten years old is not enough exercise apparently. The bar is one of those hipster places with wooden tables and old Victorian chairs and candles. There’s a few people passed out on tables, snoring with their beer glasses.

“Simon!” a familiar voice shouts from the bar. “Simon, over here!”

I turn to my left too look at the bar, and...wow. After seven years, Baz looks so different, yet so the same. Same sharp cheekbones, same long-ish raven hair, same deep sea grey eyes. He’s broader though, shoulders filling out his blood stained grey dress shirt. Far less gaunt and gangly and vampiric looking than he was in school. The shirt has the sleeves rolled up and the top two buttons undone. Weird. Baz always had his uniform buttoned to collar in school. Then I have to do a double take, because...Baz Pitch is wearing jeans? They’re dark and expensive looking, hugging his legs, which still have a footballer’s strong muscles. He has a big, dopey, drunk grin, which is offset by the small black eye and blood trickling from his nose. It’s unfortunate this is the first time I’ve ever seen him smile.

I walk towards him, hands in my pockets, shoulders nervously hunched in. Why is my heart beating so fast? Bloody hell, calm down, Simon, it’s just Baz. You know him, probably better than most people. He’s an arsehole, not evil. And we haven’t had a physical fight since we were thirteen. Plus it’s been seven years, we’re adults now. He won’t bite. Hopefully.

“Hi Baz,” I say, trying to hide my nerves. “Uh, nice to see you.”

Baz squints at me, and a pang of panic shoots through me. Is there something wrong with my face? Bloody hell, what a cruel twist of fate it would be, to see my childhood enemy after years and have pizza sauce on my cheek.

“Um, Baz, you there?” I weakly wave a hand in front of him.

“Since when do you wear spectacles?” he asks, still slurring his words.

I instinctively touch my wireframe glasses, immediately self conscious. “Oh. Since first year uni. Turns out one of the reasons school Watford so hard for me was that I couldn’t read the board a lot.”

I chuckle awkwardly, rubbing the back of my neck. I expect Baz to laugh or mock me like he used to. But instead he grins again, leaning his cheek on his bruised hand. “They look good.”

Why are my cheeks heating up? Must be bad air conditioning. “Um, thanks, Baz.”

He keeps grinning, showing off his sharp bright white teeth. (There’s a good reason I thought he was a vampire.) “Welcome.”

It goes silent again, with me standing awkwardly and Baz grinning. Christ, this is so weird. I assumed I’d never see Baz ever again, let alone drunk and bloodied in designer jeans. I have less of an idea what to do than usual.

“Ugh, finally!” a woman’s voice says to the side. I whip my head around to see who must obviously be the bartender. She’s got a deep scowl on her face and hands on her hips. “You’re Simon Snow?”

“Um, yeah, that’s me,” I reply.

“Good. Please take this arsehole off my hands.”

Baz blows a raspberry at her like a toddler. Bloody hell, he is a weird drunk. The bartender glares and flips him off.

“I’ll get him out of here,” I say.

“Thank you.” She digs under the bar and takes out a sleek black iPhone. “Here’s his phone. Took it from him after he almost dropped it in a beer glass.”

“Alright.” My brow furrows in confusion. “Do you have Baz’s keys? Or does he still have them?”

“He never had them. Searched all his pockets, nothing there.”

“Worst feel up ever,” Baz grumbles.

I rub my aching temple. “Baz, did you really forget your keys?”

He frowns and scratches his head with a bloodied hand. “Hm, yes, I think I did. I left my flat pretty fast. Maybe the super will let me in if he’s awake.”

“Where do you live?”

His brows pull together, bottom lip sticking out in a pout. Now that is certainly an expression I remember from school. It’s his thinking face. I used to glare at him while he studied all the time. “Somewhere...posh, and silver.”

I groan and drag a hand over my face. “Alright then. Well...I guess I’ll bring you to my flat.”

Baz’s jaw drops open and he shakes his head, making his black hair fan out in a strangely majestic way. “No no, you don’t have to do that. I’ll figure it out-”

“No, Baz, you won’t, you’re too pissed to think right now. I’m taking you to my place, no questions.”

He frowns. I can’t tell if he’s sad or angry. “I don’t wanna im-”

“We lived together for years, arsehole. One more night won’t kill you. Come on, get up.”

I grab his bicep and haul him to his feet. Bloody hell, does he work out a lot or something? He’s made of fucking rock. Baz wobbles back and forth and ends up leaning on me. I struggle to keep him upright.

“Baz,” I grumble, “you’re too heavy, I can’t hold you up.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He sort of heaves himself upwards, still wobbling on his feet, but at least he’s standing. That’s something I guess.

“You good?”

Baz sticks out his arms like he’s on a tightrope. “Yeah, I’m alright. Mostly.”

“Good enough. Let’s go.” I look over at the still very annoyed bartender. “Uh, thanks for taking care of him.”

“If you’re really thankful,” she spits, “make sure he doesn’t come back.”

She marches off into the back. Baz flips her off before I quickly pull down his hand. “Enough,” I grumble. “Let’s get you out of here before she smacks you.”

“Kinky,” he chuckles. God, drunk Baz is fucking weird.

Getting down the stairs takes far longer than it should. Baz has to watch his every step so he doesn’t go tumbling down. He’s like a shaky newborn fawn. It would be cute if it weren't so frustrating. Finally, we get to the bottom and I lead Baz by the sleeve towards my car. He laughs loudly when we reach it. I immediately scowl and whip around to face him.

“What?!” I snap, assuming he’s making fun of my old beat up beetle. But instead he has his head tilted upwards, laughing at the sky. Neon club signs and yellow street lights light up his smiling face. He’s like a rainbow constellation, colour reaching every crevice. Huh. Baz has always been pretty, but has he always been this pretty?

“Lights in the sky,” he laughs. “Pretty.”

I groan and tug him hard. “Come on, you drunk prat, hurry up.”

Baz stumbles along reluctantly. I shove into the passenger seat and buckle him up like he’s a bloody eight year old, then take my place in the driver’s seat. Baz is slumping, the seat belt digging into his cheek. If we crash his pretty face is going to get cut open. I debate telling him, but Baz rarely ever listens to me, and I doubt that has changed much.

I turn the engine over. Baz lets out a whoop so loud I jolt. “Allons-y,” he shouts like some deranged adventurer.

“Silence, s’il vous plait,” I reply as I turn on to the road.

“Oo, you speak French now, Snow?”

“Yes. I lived in France for a year, I learned pretty well.”

“Very nice.” For a moment I think he’s mocking me, but his smile is completely genuine, if not a bit drunken. Is it weird that I like drunk adult Baz better than sober teen Baz?

I drive through Shoreditch slowly, making sure not to hit any wayward club leavers. Baz grumbles about the slowness, but I tell him to shut up or I’ll drive us into a pole. That makes him quiet for a little while, thank god. When we hit the main drag, he decides to pipe up again.

“So what have you been up to, Snow?” he asks.

My eyes briefly flick over to him, catching his grin and glazed eyes. I scoff and look back at the road. “Really? We’re going to chit chat about life after Watford?”

“You just want us to sit in silence the whole time?”

“Maybe.”

“Boring,” he groans. “Come on, Snow, it’s been a while. Let’s catch up.”

I chuckle low in my throat. “Yes, I would love to catch up with my plastered childhood bully.”

Baz lets out a pathetic sort of whining sigh. Suddenly, something brushes my shoulder. I jolt away and briefly look over, realising it’s Baz’s hand. He’s pouting in the way his mouth is perfectly made for.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “About all the shit I did. I was a messed up prick at Watford. I’m really sorry I took that all out on you.”

I raise an extremely suspicious eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Really?!”

“It’s been seven years, Snow. Am I not allowed to learn from my mistakes?”

“Well, I mean, yeah, of course. I just didn’t expect it from you...”

“I’m a changed man, Snow,” he declares proudly. “No more picking on other people to avoid dealing with my emotional and family problems.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Wow, you sound like a therapist.”

“That’s because I am a therapist.”

We stop at a red light, giving me a chance to whip my head around in shock. My jaw is firmly on the ground. “You’re a therapist?!”

“Sort of.” Baz grins pointed ear to pointed ear. He offers his hand, though it’s a bit limp. “Dr. Basilton Grimm-Pitch, psychiatrist in training at University College Hospital. Pleasure to meet you.”

I can’t take my hands off the wheel, so I don’t take his, but I smile instead. Baz chuckles as his hand falls, so I think he gets the picture.

“Wow,” I sigh. “You, a psychiatrist. I never would have thought.”

“Me neither, until I took a psychology course in year 10. Then I decided I liked, y’know, mind stuff and shit. It was interesting and challenging. And I could help people with it.”

I scoff, but with a smile. “And you used to call me the overly noble hero.”

“Well, I decided to follow in your golden footsteps, golden boy.” He turns towards me, cheeks squished against the seat. He’s really going to die if we crash. “So really, what have you been up to since Watford, Mr. Hero? Storming castles? Saving damsels in distress? Travelling the world?”

That makes me laugh louder. “You have a way overinflated sense of my heroism.”

He snorts, but it’s not unkind like it used to be. Just sort of amused. “Alright. Then what do you do?”

“I’m, uh, actually a primary teacher. Year six, to be exact.”

“Oh,” Baz breathes out, sounding genuinely amazed. “That’s cool. That makes sense, yeah.”

“Makes sense?”

“You were always helping out the kids in younger years at Watford.”

I chuckle and shrug. “Yeah, guess you’ve got a point.”

“Is it fun? Teaching children?”

“Yeah. I like finding fun ways to teach them stuff. Though it’s not great they get in fights or stuck lego bricks up their noses.”

Baz lets out a barking laugh. It’s a fun, sudden sound. I’ve never heard it before, yet it works well for Baz. “Is that what people mean by ‘the joys of children?’”

“Something like that. Is psychiatry fun?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “But time consuming. Doctors aren’t supposed to have damn lives apparently.”

“Well, good thing you found time to go to a hipster bar”

Everything suddenly gets very, very quiet. It reminds me of when we would study. Backs to each other, no noise, plenty of tension. Did I say something wrong? I used to do that a lot, but I thought I’d gotten better. I’ve learned to chew my words better over the years. But when we stop at a roundabout, I turn to see that Baz is gazing ahead, mouth a thin line and grey eyes lost in the distance.

“Pretty lights,” he whispers in awe, like a child. I guess alcohol does turn adults into children. His nose is still letting out a small trickle of dark red blood. I sigh and shake my head.

“Glove box,” I say.

Baz turns his head to me. “Huh?”

“There’s tissues in the glove box. Your nose is still bleeding a bit.”

“Oh.” He paws at the latch in front of him, floppy drunk fingers struggling to just bloody lift it. I sigh and reach over, lifting it for him. Baz takes out the little packet and flashes me that dopey smile. Why does my chest feel funny? I must be overtired.

“Thanks,” he says, then presses the tissue to his nose. It’s weirdly comforting in its familiarity. I still remember sitting in the headmaster’s office after our fights, covered in bruises and blood, glaring at each other. This is better though. We’re not fighting, in fact we’re being nice. Maybe this is how we could’ve been at Watford. Maybe we could’ve been...friends.

We sit in silence for the rest of the ride. But it’s a comfortable silence, no tension. I like it. A lot. I like all of this better than fighting.

———————————————

I pull into my spot in front of my apartment. Dragging Baz out of the car is a bit of a problem, but luckily my place has a lift, so no more stair problems. He starts leaning on me as we go up to my floor. I use one finger to push him back, and he slumps against the wall. I need to strap him to a dolly.

We go into my apartment, and I instinctively prepare for a snide comment from Baz. Something about it’s size, it’s clutter, the decor. But he says nothing derogatory. In fact, he smiles, brushing his hand against my Van Gogh print and old dining room table.

“You, uh, like it?” I ask. Wait, why does it matter what Baz thinks of my place? I don’t need his approval.

“Yeah,” Baz replies. “It’s very nice.”

There’s a thump from my room, followed by the familiar pitter-patter of tiny paws. Cherry prances into the room, all fluffy tailed and cute. She blinks up at Baz with big green eyes. Baz makes a tiny gasp and gets on his knees, holding his hand out to Cherry.

“Hello, pretty kitty,” he says softly. “Aren’t you an adorable little thing.”

Cherry sniffs his fingers, then immediately nuzzles against his hand. Baz looks absolutely elated, a big childish grin on his face.

“You like cats, huh?”

Baz nods vigorously. “I would have one if my building allowed pets.” He scratches behind Charry’s ear with glee. “What’s this little one’s name?”

“Her name is Cherry.”

“You did love those scones,” he chuckles.

I chuckle as well, fiddling with my shirt sleeve. “Still do. Though none are as good as Cook Pritchard’s.”

“Very true.” He stands up, pulling away from Cherry, and wobbles his way into the sitting room. He stands between my coffee table and ratty old couch. “So may I sleep on that couch?”

I scramble in after him and start piling up my curriculum papers. I don’t want Baz shouting at me for the mess. “Uh, yeah, just lemme fix it up a bit.”

“It’s alright-”

“No, I’ll fix it. And...maybe you should clean up a bit first?”

Baz turns to me with a confused expression. “What?” I sigh and point at is blood spattered shirt. He pulls it in front of himself, like a child who’s spilled food. “Oh, right.”

“There’s stuff on you face too...”

Baz drags a long finger over his cheek, and rubs the dried blood between his fingers. “Good  point.

“You wanna take a shower maybe?”

“Is that okay with you?”

“Uh, yeah. But be warned, I don’t have any of your fancy French soaps.”

He lets out a loud short laugh, like a happy little firecracker going off. “Wouldn’t expect you to, Snow. I doubt you’ve changed that much.”

“Heh, yeah.” I rub the back of my neck, which is getting very hot for some reason. I think I need to fix my fan.

Baz wobbles back towards me. He stands a bit too close, and now that things are calm, I notice how he smells. It’s a mix of liquor, irony blood, and the very faint, familiar scent of cedar and bergamot. Seven years later and I can’t forget that smell. I guess it’s burned into my brain forever. I’m not sure that I mind.

“Where’s the bathroom?” he asks, snapping me out of my olfactory induced daze.

“Oh, uh, down the hall and to your left. There’s towels in the cupboard.”

“Alright.” He sticks his hands in his trouser pockets, a very shy gesture I’m not used to seeing from him. “Thank you. Again. I’m saying that a lot tonight, wow.”

I chuckle and shrug. “I guess so. Now go wash off that awful blood please.”

“Aye aye, Mr.Snow.” He does a mocking little American salute with two fingers. I watch as he half skips his way to the bathroom, trying not to giggle at his ridiculous gait.

The bathroom door shuts, and I let out a long breath. My brain is still playing catch up. I need to sit, relax, just process all this shit. Once I organize my papers into semi-neat piles and close my laptop, I grab a cherry granola bar from the counter and collapse on the couch. I hear the shower turn on. I glance over at the clock. Bloody hell, it’s past 3am, and my enemy is taking a shower in my flat. Well, former enemy, I guess. We’re not fighting anymore. In fact, Baz is being really nice. It’s pretty damn great. I hope we can keep this up.

Cherry jumps onto the couch, startling me from my daze. She immediately curls up on my lap, purring happily. I chuckle as I pet her. Penny jokes that Cherry is my emotional support service cat. Honestly, she’s not wrong. I don’t know what I would do without her.

“Wanna watch Dr. Who, darling?” I coo, scratching behind her ear. “Yes, yes you do.”

I grab the remote and turn on Netflix, going to one of my favourite episodes. We sit there in peaceful silence through the show. I try not to listen to the shower down the hall. I can’t help but worry. What if he slips and hits his head? What if he falls asleep and drowns? What if he tries to eat the bloody soap? All are strong possibilities. But he’s still Baz. He’s too smart and stubborn to die.

As I near the end of the episode, I realise it’s been half an hour since Baz went in. My heart beats double time, every fear racing through my head. (As well as concern for my water bill.) But the sound of water shuts off, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I hear Baz’s unsteady feet pad around the tiled floor. But then there’s rattling and muffled swearing, and I’m on my feet immediately. Cherry meows unhappily and scuttles away.

“Sorry, girl,” I say as I speed walk to the bathroom. I knock on the wooden door. “Baz? You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” his muffled voice replies, but that’s followed by a loud bang. “Bloody fucking hell.”

“I’m coming in.”

“Snow, wait-”

I push the door open and immediately freeze. All the blood in my body goes straight to my face, turning it tomato red. Because Baz Pitch is standing in front of my medicine cabinet with nothing but a towel around his waist. His hair is soaked and messy, falling adorably in front his shocked face. His legs look strong enough to crush someone. Thin rivulets of water drip down his broad, bare chest. I watch them for a few long, drawn out seconds, completely frozen. In our time living together, Baz and I made a point to never see each other without clothes on. Did he even look close to this back at school? Did I just never notice?

“Um...” Baz says, breaking me out of my daze. I whip around, hand cupped over my eyes.

“Bloody hell, Baz!” I shout. “Give a guy some warning.”

“I would have if you hadn’t come bursting in!”

“Well, you took awhile in the shower, then I heard swearing. Excuse me for being concerned.”

“I’m grateful for your concern, Mr. Hero, though not for your usual brashness.”

“Just put some clothes on, please.”

“Very well.”

I listen to Baz shuffle and grumble as I assume he gets dressed. I resist the urge to turn around and check if he can get his legs into his trousers. I’m not sure how drunk he still is.

“You can turn around now, Snow.”

I slowly turn, and my face turns scarlet again. “Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?!”

“Because mine is covered in blood,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Which I guess it is, but still he’s not wearing a shirt. Why are my hands so clammy?

Baz starts sorting through the medicine cabinet. I frown in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for bandages.” He lifts his left hand, showing off his bruised, still slightly bleeding knuckles. “You got any?”

“Uh, yeah. I’ll get it, sit down on the toilet.”

Baz stumbles over and does what he’s told (for once). I grab the first aid kit from under the sink and sit next to him on the edge of the tub.

“Gimme your hand,” I say. Baz holds out his arm, fingers limp. I try not to look freaked out. His skin is black and blue and there are many cuts, still bleeding slowly. “Why are you still bleeding? It’s been like, an hour.”

“My blood alcohol content is high,” Baz replies. “Booze is a blood thinner. Means I’ll bleed more.”

“Oh. That makes sense. Thanks, Mr. Doctor.”

Baz chuckles, a soft smile playing on his mouth. “Dr. Grimm-Pitch will do.”

I laugh as well. I take a towel off the rack and pat his hand dry, then get the antiseptic.

“I just had a shower,” Baz protests.

“Don’t care. We need to make sure you don’t get an infection.”

“I’m fine.”

I pour the clear liquid on a sterile pad. “Still doing it.”

“I’m the doctor here, dammit.”

“The doctor who is still drunk off his arse after a bloody bar fight. So shut up.”

Baz frowns, but doesn’t protest. I lightly pat his cuts. He inhales sharply through his teeth and tries to pull away, but I grab his wrist, holding still.

“Don’t move,” I say.

“It hurts,” he whines like a toddler.

“Yeah, no shit. That’s what you get for getting in a bar fight, idiot.”

He grumbles, but doesn’t move again either. Once I’m satisfied all the cuts are clean, I use another pad to get them dry, then take out the bandages.

“You get injured a lot, Snow?” He’s smirking playfully, not a hint of malice. It’s much nicer than his smug arsehole face.

“No,” I chuckle. “But it never hurts to be prepared.”

“Especially if your former enemy shows up drunk and bleeding.”

Thoughts start racing through my head. Horrible, nervous thoughts. I stop wrapping his hand for a moment, but quickly start again. Unfortunately, Baz notices.

“Something on your mind, Snow?” he asks.

I chew on my bottom lip as I secure the bandage. I gesture for Baz to give me his other hand, and he does. I slowly pat on the antiseptic and he doesn’t move at all. Slowly, I look up, and I meet Baz’s deep sea eyes. He doesn’t look mad or annoyed, just concerned. So am I.

“Baz,” I sigh, “you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. And considering you’re a bloody doctor now, I doubt that’s changed. So I’m absolutely astounded at how you could get so drunk and end up in a bar fight.”

Baz’s thin lips press together, and I watch his throat bob in a gulp. He leans his elbow on the sink, propping his cheek on his fist. “Snow,” he says slowly, “what do you know about my mother?”

My blood turns ice cold. I stop with the bandage completely, just looking at Baz. “Uh, not much. I know she died a long time ago. And...it was at Watford...”

Baz nods slowly. “Yes, that’s what everyone knows. But what most people don’t know is that I was there.”

And now my heart completely stops. My mouth falls open slightly. Baz’s face stays completely neutral. “You...you were there?”

“Yeah.” He leans harder on his fist. “I was sitting with the rest of the kids in the Watford nursery. Suddenly a group of men with knives burst in. They started to come after the nannies and the children. But that’s when my mother showed up with her hunting rifle. My father insisted she have it for protection when he wasn’t there. She got all of the men immediately, including the one holding me. She hit him in the shoulder so he dropped me. Another man charged her while she was distracted, and she shot him in the chest, but not before...” Baz rubs his eyes and the bridge of his nose, like I do when I have a headache. “Not before he stabbed her in the neck. She bled to death in seconds.” He drags his hand down his face. “I fell unconscious after that. When I woke up, my father and aunt were tending to my wounds, and my mother was gone. I was young, it’s all a bit hazy, but I remember enough.”

I’m left in stunned silence. Baz doesn’t say anything either, just rubbing his head. He’s not crying, but he looks on the verge of tears. I don’t blame him. I can’t believe it, can’t believe Baz went through that and no one ever knew. It’s just terrible.

“Wow,” I finally say, “that’s...wow.”

Baz chuckles quietly. “Yeah, that about sums it up.”

“I never knew that happened...”

“No one did, Snow. All the gruesome little details were kept under wraps. It would’ve been terrible if anyone found out Natasha Grimm-Pitch died in such an undignified way that traumatized her heir.”

His voice is mockingly scathing, even with his slightly slurred speech. He’s a mix between furious and mournful. I don’t understand how he feels, but I don’t think I ever could. I may never have had parents, but that’s a far cry from watching your’s die.

“I don’t know how much it means, but I’m sorry that happened to you Baz.”

The corner of his lip quirks up into a small half smile. “Thanks, Snow.”

I start wrapping his hand again, and my brow furrows. “So, uh, what does this have to do with you getting drunk and fighting? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Baz takes a deep inhale through his nose, and lets out the air through his mouth. “My mother was killed twenty years ago today.”

“O-oh. That...yeah, that makes sense.”

“Mhm. I’ve lived with it for most of my life, but this anniversary hit me harder than I expected. I had my first day off in months, so after some mindless telly, I went to that bar. Gave the bartender my card and told her to keep the tequila coming. First mistake.”

“Second one was getting in a fight?”

“Yeah, definitely.” He flexes his bandaged hand. “It was just some arsehole looking for trouble. He kept prodding at me and shoving my shoulder until I snapped. I don’t even remember what he said. I was just so angry and sad and drunk. And that arsehole was right there” He groans loudly and rubs his head. “One of the dumbest things I’ve ever done.”

“Probably. But you made one good choice.”

“Oh?”

I finish bandaging his other hand and smile at his mopey face. “You called me.”

His mopeyness melts away as he lets out a breathy laugh. Our eyes meet, and his are glinting in a way I’ve never seen before. “Yeah, I guess that was a good idea.”

We smile at each other. Something tugs in my chest, something I don’t fully understand. I’ve never felt anything like this. Maybe I’m just overtired.

Baz flexes his bandaged hands. I put the first aid kit under the sink again. Baz stands and presses a hand to his bruised eye. hissing between his teeth. “Got any ice packs, Snow?” he asks.

“Oh, yeah,” I reply. “It’s in the kitchen, c’mon.”

We walk towards the kitchen. I open the freezer and pull out my reusable ice pack. Teaching a bunch of children can result in some bad headaches. I wrap it in a napkin and hand it to Baz. He presses it to his eye with clenched teeth. As he leans back against the counter, I remember he’s not wearing a shirt.

“Uh,” I say, “those jeans don’t look comfortable. I’ve got some spare pyjamas. Want me to get them?”

Baz nods. “Yeah, that would be good, thanks.”

“Alright, stay here.”

I go to my bedroom, wading through the laundry I have to do tomorrow to get to the dresser. It takes awhile for me to find something that will probably fit Baz. Damn his extra four inches, always so infuriating. I eventually pick out some trackies and a long Chicago Cubs shirt. It’s all I’ve got. I go back to the kitchen, and come upon a strange scene.

“Baz,” I say slowly, “what are you doing?

Baz looks up from the messy, cutlery covered counter, still pressing the ice pack to his eye. He lifts a plate with two pieces of bread, both half covered in marmite. “Making a marmite and cheese sandwich. You want half?”

His expression is so innocent, not a hint of the old malice I used to know. I let out a sigh. “Sure. Let me get the cheese.”

He grins and goes back to slathering on marmite. I pull my sliced sandwich cheese from the fridge. Hope Baz doesn’t mind cheap Tesco brand swiss. I bring the package to the counter, and Baz takes out a slice without even looking. Guess he’s not as snobbish about food as he used to be. He cuts the sandwich into two slightly lopsided triangles and swans out to my dining room. I follow behind with the pyjamas.

Baz sits in a chair, leaning back with his legs spread out. I sit across from him, placing the clothes on the table. Baz snatches it. It unfolds and his brows pull together.

“You a baseball fan now, Snow?” he asks.

I chuckle and shake my head. “Nah. Micah definitely is though.”

“Who?”

“Remember that American exchange student from fourth year?”

“The short nerd with large glasses?” His voice is muffled as he struggles to put on the shirt. Drunk Baz doesn’t get along with t-shirt holes.

“Yeah, that’s one way to describe him I guess. He and Penny started dating then and have been together ever since. She lives in America with him now.”

Baz’s eyes light up. “Oh, that’s wonderful. How is Bunce? I miss facing off with her in debate club.”

“She’s doing well. She’s got a job as an assistant professor in Chicago and loves American food. I just saw her a few weeks ago on vacation.”

“Marvelous. Tell her I say hello next time you speak to her.”

“Will do.” We both take one half of the marmite-cheese sandwich. Baz takes a huge bite, followed by a happy groan. I can’t tell if he’s drunk hungry or actually hungry. Probably somewhere in between. I take a bite as well. There’s far too much marmite, but it’s four in the morning. Right now anything tastes good.

Thinking of Penny makes me think of Watford. And something else, or more accurately someone else, pops into my head.

“Hey,” I say through the marmite, “you said you talked to Agatha earlier. How are you two still in contact? She cut off almost everyone after Watford. I didn’t start talking to her again until a year ago.”

Baz quickly chews and swallows. “Funny story there. I did a semester abroad in California and ended up in the same biology class as Agatha. It was extremely awkward at first. But once we sat down over coffee and sorted stuff out, we bonded very quickly. Similar upper class British family problems and expectations.”

“Oh. That’s makes sense I guess. It’s nice you guys talk.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty good.” He chuckles, mouth gummed with marmite. “The weirdest part was telling her I’m gay. I apologised for leading her on, and you know what she did?”

I lean over the table, genuinely enraptured. “What?”

“Laughed her fucking arse off for ten minutes straight.”

I snort so hard I nearly shoot sandwich out my nose. Baz throws his head back laughing. He’s so loud he might disturb my neighbours, but I don’t care. His laugh is too incredible.

“Just like that,” he giggles, calming down.

“So she wasn’t mad?” I ask.

“No, not at all. She admitted she wasn’t really into me. She was just rebelling against her parents. We both sympathised on that front.” He sighs and leans back even more. “That’s all I wanted at Watford, really. I was under so much pressure to be the perfect son. I seriously considered yelling ‘fuck it’ and doing whatever I wanted.”

I sigh too, putting my cheek against my palm. “Yeah, I understand that. Mr. Mage put a lot of pressure on me. He wanted to prove to the Watford board that scholarship students were worthwhile, and since I was Watford’s very first scholarship kid, I had to be perfect. Every time I got a low grade he would yell at me for an hour.”

“What a prick,” Baz grumbles.

I chuckle as I nod slowly. “Yeah, total prick. Watford wasn’t an easy place to be.”

Baz slowly lowers his sandwich, looking pointedly at the plate, and therefore not me. My heart speeds up. Did I say something wrong? Did I piss him off by accident? I do that a lot. And I definitely used to do that to Baz.

“What is it?” I ask.

“I don’t mean to pry,” he says carefully. “And maybe this is me still being pretty drunk. But...I saw something in your medicine cabinet.”

I squint, trying to think what could be so concerning. “Saw what?”

He fiddles with his still damp hair. It’s an old nervous habit I recognise from finals studying. “A bottle of citalopram. I’m a future psychiatrist, I know what that medication is usually for...”

My stomach drops out. I freeze with the sandwich still in my hand. “Oh,” I squeak.

“Yeah.” He leans closer, eyes round and sympathetic. “I’m sorry I looked. And...I’m sorry if I had any part in your need for it-”

“No no, Baz.” I shake my head, leaning forward as well. “You don’t have to. It’s not your fault, it’s not anyone’s in particular, really. It’s stupid chemicals misfiring in my brain. You’re a doctor, you know that.”

“Yes, of course I know that, Snow. But I also know my incessant arsehole behaviour for seven years probably didn’t help.”

I shrug, leaning back again. “Probably. And I bet me insulting you and punching you in the face all the time didn’t help your mental health either.”

He smiles and laughs again. He looks better when he laughs. “Okay, good point.”

“Exactly. So let’s agree neither of us need to apologise. We’ll let the past be the past, move on from here.”

“So you mean a truce?”

“Yeah, I guess.” I reach out my hand. “Truce.”

Baz smiles and clasps his hand with mine. His skin is just as rough and cold as I remember it being back at school. But even after we pull apart, my skin still feels warm.

“Just so we’re even,” Baz says with his mouthful, “my favourite antidepressant was cipralex. I went off it a few months ago because it started making me too drowsy, but it worked well for years. Citalopram made me far too ill. When I first tried it, I ended up vomiting in a bloody bedpan.”

I burst out laughing. And Baz’s grin outshines the sun.

We finish our sandwiches together. Baz complains that his mouth tastes like a rubbage heap. Apparently the combination of old tequila, Tesco cheese, and marmite creates a truly awful flavour. I give him an unused toothbrush from the dentist. He goes into the bathroom and soon emerges with clean teeth and wearing my trackies. I’m back on the couch with Cherry in my lap.

“You tired?” I ask.

“Not really,” Baz replies. “Late hospital shifts have turned me into an insomniac.”

“Wanna watch some Dr. Who?”

He throws himself down next to me, long arm stretched out over the back of the couch behind me. “Sure.”

I switch to a new episode. It’s a standalone, so Baz won’t be too confused. But he still asks incessant questions. Who’s this, what’s that, how the everloving fuck can they do that and survive? No wonder he’s a doctor. He’s perfect at looking for answers, no matter how annoying he is. Eventually I have to threaten to duct tape his mouth to get him to shut up. He huffs, crosses his arms, and sinks down further.. His head ends up on my shoulder. Despite my shorter neck length and Baz’s naturally long face, his head fits perfectly in the crook of my neck. Like it was made to be there. Wait, where did that thought come from?

The credits roll, and I notice a quiet whistling noise. I turn my head to the side. Oh. Baz is asleep. His eyes are softly closed and his lips are slightly parted. I’ve seen Baz sleep before of course, but this is different. Baz had nightmares throughout our entire time at Watford. (So did I.) I don’t think he’s having one now though. There’s no thrashing or whimpers. I’ve never seen Baz look so...peaceful.

“Baz,” I whisper. He doesn’t respond at all. “Baz,” I say louder, jerking my shoulder a bit.

“Ugh,” he groans, “let me sleep in, Daphne, it’s summer.”

“I’m not your step-mum, Baz.”

He cracks one eye open. “No, you’re really not, Snow.”

“Yeah. You wanna go to bed?”

“Mm, yeah.”

“Okay.” I slowly get up, easing Baz off my shoulder. I gently lower him onto the couch. The bottom half of his face hangs off the arm. Yeah, he’s going to need a pillow. I go to my bedroom and grab a pillow and blanket. I also make a stop by the bathroom for some aspirin and make another at the kitchen for some water and a bowl, in case he’s sick. I would prefer not to clean vomit out of my carpet.

Baz is still awkwardly pressed against the sofa arm, drooling slightly. Who would’ve thought I’d see the day Baz Pitch drooled in his sleep? I wouldn’t have. Not in a million years. But apparently tonight is a time for new things.

I place the bowl, water, and aspirin on my coffee table. Slowly and carefully, I lift Baz’s head and fit a pillow under it. I drape the blanket over his annoyingly tall body. His arm hangs like a limp noodle off the side. I sigh, kneeling down to tuck it back in.

Out of nowhere, I feel long, rough fingers touching my cheek. My whole body locks up in shock. Slowly, I raise my head, and I meet Baz’s half open grey eyes and soft smile.

“Uh, Baz?” I say, not sure what else I can.

“You’re still so beautiful,” he whispers. My eyes widen and every nerve in my body is filled with...something? Fear, nerves, an absolute sense of what the fuck? I can’t tell.

“W-What?”

Baz’s hand moves lower. His thumb traces just under my bottom lip. Why does my skin feels like it’s fire? “Your face, it’s still really pretty.”

I let out a nervous chuckle. “Uh, I guess you’d know. You punched it enough.”

He laughs softly. His hand falls, pulling back under the blanket, and his eyes slip shut. “Wish I had kissed it instead.”

I don’t even have time to respond to that, because Baz is asleep in an instant, snoring quietly once again. I’m frozen in place. My jaw is slack. Baz would tell me I’m going to catch flies. Baz, who’s sleeping right in front of me, who wished he had kissed me? My brain can’t process this. I’m like a computer with an eternal blue screen. This does not compute, cannot compute, fuck fuck fuck.

There’s only one thing I can think to do.

I grab my phone, rush to my room, and close the door. Cherry is already curled up on her side. The second I’m sitting on the mattress, I click Penny’s contact.

“Hello?” Her voice immediately calms me down.

“Hi, Pen,” I say.

“Simon?! Bloody hell, isn’t it like four in the morning in London?”

I look over at my clock. “Uh, yup, just about.”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but why are calling me at four AM?”

I sigh and flop backwards. “Pen, you’re not going to believe who is sleeping in my living room right now.”

“Who? The Doctor? Boris Johnson? The Queen of England>

A laugh bubbles from my mouth. “Nah, even weirder.”

I can almost hear Penny’s face pinching together in confusion. “Who?”

“Baz Pitch.”

She gasps loudly. “What?! As in Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch? That Baz Pitch?!”

“You think there’s another Baz Pitch in existence?”

“Yeah,” she sighs, “good point. So why is your arsehole former roommate sleeping on your couch?”

I rub the bridge of my nose. It doesn’t help. I’m not sure anything can help now. “That’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.”

I sigh, and start spinning my insane tale. From the call to the bar to my flat, how Baz and I talked and became friendly and made a weird truce over cheese and marmite. I try to say everything quickly yet accurately. Penny barely makes a noise as I talk. I can’t tell if she’s shocked or contemplative. Probably both, honestly. I can’t blame her. The more I talk, the more completely nuts it all sounds. I’m living in a bloody sitcom.

“And then,” I say, “he held my face, said I was beautiful, and that he wished he had kissed me instead of punching me!”

“Wow,” Penny gasps. “That’s...a lot.”

“I know right? I’m so confused and I have no idea what the fuck to do!”

“Okay. What do you want to do though?”

I rub my very aching brow. “I don’t know, Pen. It’s so weird. Like, is this something he’s just realised or has Baz always felt this way?”

“Probably the second one.”

I bolt upright, brows knitted together. “Wait, really? You think so?”

“Yeah, actually.”

“But why?!”

“Well, Baz has always been very obsessed with you. He would go out of his way to be around you.”

“Yeah, to torment me,” I grumble.

Penny lets out a sigh. “Yes, he did. But as you told me, Baz said he picked on you because he couldn’t deal with his emotional issues. One of those issues certainly could have been romantic feelings for you.”

“Then why didn’t he just say something?!”

“Because he was the gay son of a conservative upper class British family, which probably wasn’t easy to deal with. Plus, his father and aunt hated the idea of scholarship students, also known as you.”

My righteous anger fizzles out like a dying campfire, shoulders slumping as I fall back against the headboard. “Oh. Yeah, that’s a good point. Still shouldn’t have been a snob and a bully.

“No he shouldn’t have. It was probably half poor coping and half trying to get your attention.”

“Like a boy pulling a girl’s pigtails?”

“I guess.”

“That’s a stupid and sexist way to handle a crush. I tell my students that all the time.”

Penny sighs. “Yeah, of course it is. But I’m pretty sure Baz knows that, at least now. He’s sorry for what he did. It seems like he’s gotten a lot better.”

“Yeah.” A smile creeps across my face without thinking. It just feels natural. “He’s gotten a lot nicer. He’s not the perfect, pretty, unfeeling arsehole I thought he was. And he’s funny, at least when he’s drunk. We had a pretty great time .”

I laugh quietly, but Penny’s is far louder. She sounds like she’s muffling her giggles. I frown a bit. “What’s so funny, Pen?”

“Oh,” she keeps giggling, “I think I’ve just realised something, and it’s hilarious.”

“Realised what?”

She takes a few deep calming breaths while my anxiety just climbs. “Simon,” she says kindly. This is the way she used to speak while explaining our complicated maths homework. “Hear me out, but I don’t think Baz is the only one who feels something.”

“Huh?”

“I think you have at least a few romantic feelings for Baz.”

“What?!” I shout far too loudly, and I worry I’m going to wake up Baz. I crouch inward, like I’m hiding, but I’m not really sure what. Baz? Penny? Myself?

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I hiss.

“Hear me out,” Penny says. “I’m saying that based on the evidence, you may have latent romantic feelings for Baz Pitch.”

“What evidence?!”

Penny lets out a low chuckle, like a super villain who’s plan has come to fruition. “Let’s see. Number one: back at Watford, you spent 99% of your time thinking about, talking about, or being with Baz. I had to put a limit on how much you were allowed to talk about Baz, remember?”

“Yeah, because he was bugging me,” I mumble.

“Number two: when you talked about Baz, it was always about how annoyingly pretty, smart, and graceful he was. You hated him, yet you had so many nice things to say.”

“Well he was perfect and it was annoying!”

“Number three: During the entire time you dated Agatha, you paid far more attention to Baz than you ever did to her.”

“T-That’s not true!” Though, looking back...fucking hell, it might actually be true.

“Number four: even though you hadn’t seen him in seven years, you dropped everything at two AM to go pick up his drunk arse from a bar.”

“It was the right thing to do!”

“Number five: you just gushed about how much you like Baz now and that he’s fun to be around. And I bet you were smiling.”

“No.” I think my cheeks are turning red.

I hear some rustling, and I think Penny is leaning forward in her chair. I can almost see her kind face in front of me. “Simon, I don’t want to push anything on you, but I also want you to really think about this. I know you hate to analyse things but it’s necessary right now. Maybe it could lead to something good.”

I tug on my hair, trying to distract myself. “I don’t know about that, Pen.”

“I know. Doesn’t even have to be romantic, maybe a good friendship. You could use more friends. And I’m not saying you have to jump his bones tomorrow.”

“Penny!” Now I’m definitely blushing.

She laughs uncontrollably, snorting every once in awhile. I cover my blushing face and groan. “Oh, I’m only joking, Si,” she says. “But I’m serious, don’t shut it down. Think about it. Baz is nice now, maybe it could work.”

“Why are you so desperate to set me up with my former enemy?”

“Because you haven’t been on a date or made new friends since first year uni. And I haven’t heard you this happy about being around someone in years.”

I hate to admit it, but she’s right. I’ve had more fun with Baz in one night than I have in ages. I enjoyed talking to him. I enjoyed laughing with him. I’m glad he’s asleep in the next room, where I can make sure he’s okay.

“You may have a point,” I say.

“Of course I do.”

I roll my eyes, just like she does. “Yeah, yeah, we’ve always known you’re smarter than me.”

“Mhm. And in my smart opinion, you need to go to bed.”

“Will do.” I flop backwards. The pillow feels heavenly on my head. “Thanks, Pen. I’ll talk to you later.”

“You better. Night, Si.”

I smile, and I hope she can hear my love and gratitude over the phone. “Night, Pen.”

The phone clicks off. I let it fall to the side. I am 0.2 seconds from passing out, even with so much still on my mind. I plug in my phone and turn on my side. I pull Cherry close to me. She curls around my hand like usual. When I close my eyes, all I see is raven hair, deep sea grey eyes, and a smile I never knew was there before.

———————————————

“Bloody fucking shit!”

I wake up with a start, clutching my sheet. Late morning sunlight is bleeding through the gap in my curtains. There’s muffled banging on the other side of my door. It’s like a very clumsy little rhino is moving through my flat. But I know exactly who it is.

I grab my glasses and slowly walk down the hall, peeking around the corner. It’s weird to sneak around my own apartment. I see a familiar long, lithe back, bent over as he struggles to get his struggles to get his oxfords on. He keeps wavering side to side like a branch in the wind.

“Good morning,” I say nonchalantly.

Baz whips around so fast he nearly topples over, stumbling to the side. He looks even more disheveled than last night, hair extremely tangled from sleeping on it wet, bruise worsening under his eyes, and bloodstained shirt buttoned wrong. He looks absolutely shocked to see me, which is odd, considering this is my flat.

“Um,” he says, shakiness in my voice, “good morning, Snow.”

“Leaving so soon?”

“Uh, well, yes, I suppose.”

I lean against the wall with my arms crossed. “So you were going to go and what? Leave me a thank you note like some bad teen movie?”

He probably thinks I don’t notice, but I see him crumple up and shove something in his back pocket. “No. I-I would’ve texted you my thanks.”

“Because that’s so much better.”

Baz looks down in shame, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I know. It’s just...I didn’t want to make things awkward after last night. I’m truly sorry for the way I acted and imposing on you.”

“It’s okay.” I walk forward, hands in my trackie pockets. “I know you were pretty drunk, but, what do you remember from last night?”

Baz looks up, but still doesn’t meet my eyes. “I remember, being upset, going to the bar, getting in the fight, and the bartender screaming colourful obscenities at me.” That makes him laugh a little. It still sounds so nice. “Then I called you, you came and you had glasses. We drove to your place. I had a shower. You tended to my wounds like some war nurse.”

I giggle, nodding in complete agreement. “Yeah, I definitely did do that.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “Then uh, we ate sandwiches, watched Doctor Who, and I assume I fell asleep.”

“Okay.” I draw out the last syllable on purpose, making my doubt extremely clear. “That’s most of it, but you’re missing a few key parts.”

“Am I?” He’s trying to sound confident, but I know Baz, and I can hear a waver in his voice.

I start walking closer. “Mhm. You’re missing the parts where you apologized for being a prick in school, called my flat was good, liked my cat, said you drank because it was the anniversary of your mother’s horrible death, talked about your experience with antidepressants.” I’m only a few feet away from him now, looking him right in his pretty. “And, the part where you said that you wished you had kissed me back at school instead of punching me.”

With his complexion, it’s hard to tell when Baz is blushing. But I can see it. Scarlet creeps down from his cheeks to his long neck, eyes locked on me in stun.

“Oh,” he squeaks. “I see.”

“You really don’t remember all that?”

He rubs his brow. “Well, maybe, it’s just...fuzzy.”

“But was it true? Did you like me back at Watford?”

He visibly gulps, then looks at the floor again. He looks incredibly embarrassed and ashamed. “Yes,” he says, like he has to force himself to say it. “Yes, it’s true.”

I let out a long breath, half from relief, half to calm myself down. Okay. It’s true. Baz had feelings for me. All through school, all that time, Baz was pining after me from afar. And I never knew. Not a bit. But I think that was the idea.

“Alright,” I say.

Baz lifts his eyes slightly, cocking one eyebrow. “Alright? Is that all you have to say?”

I shrug high then drop my shoulders low. “I don’t know what else to say. That’s all. It changes a lot of things I assumed in school.”

“I bloody well hope so.” His voice is lighter, trying to lift the mood, trying to make this even slightly less than horribly awkward.

“So,” I say drawing out the o, “when, uh, did it start? You feeling like...that.”

If Baz’s blush could get any worse, I think it just did. He plays with his sleeves, his buttons, his hair, obviously looking for a distraction. “I realised it when I was 15. But I think, it started almost since we met.”

That hits me hard. The first year we met, I wore ratty old clothes and was essentially nonverbal. Baz saw me like that, a dirty silent little orphan kid, and he already liked me. He didn’t show it, but only because he couldn’t. He cared about me, even then. Even when so few truly did.

“Huh,” I say stupidly. “That’s a long time.”

He lets out a scoffing chuckle. “No shit, Snow.”

“That makes me feel even more sorry for being a prick to you in school.”

Baz shakes his head very quickly. “No, no, don’t apologize. I was a prick to you first. I just...” he sighs, rubbing his forehead. “In my family, I wasn’t supposed to be gay, let alone have feelings for someone they hated. I lashed out and hurt you because I was hurting. It was wrong.”

He sighs and sits down heavily on the couch. He looks so forlorn and ashamed, head hanging forward, his hair like a curtain. All the guilt seems to be pushing down on his shoulders, making him slump. Penny was right, as usual. But to hear it from Baz, to see him like this, it tugs on my heart. Like that time I caught him drunk in front of his mother’s grave when we were fifteen, or twice last night. He’s grown a lot and gotten happier, but a small part of Baz is still that sad kid, I guess.

Slowly, I walk towards him and sit down. Before I can think too much, I reach out and touch his hand. Baz’s head snaps up, completely terrified and shocked. Yet, he doesn’t pull away. One by one, I slip my fingers between his. Baz’s skin is such a strange contrast. My palm touches the smooth back of his hand, while fingers trace tiny rough ridges. It feels...really good.

“Hey,” I say quietly. “I know it’s been awhile, but what do you think about me now?”

I look him in the eye. I can see the way his lips shift, feel how his hand twitches. I wish I could hear what he’s thinking right now. He stays silent, so I decide to jump in.

“Well, let me start. I know what I think about you. I think,” I move closer, “that you’re kind, funny, smart, and still annoyingly gorgeous.” That makes his eyes widen ever so slightly. “And now I also know that you’re incredibly strong. That you struggled and mourned and came out okay. I mean, you’re a bloody doctor who’s going to help people work through their own problems. That’s amazing.”

Baz looks so shocked, probably both at my words and my coherency. I’ve gotten a lot better at speaking over the years. I’m so glad for that right now. “You really think all that, Snow?”

I smile and nod. “Yeah. I mean, I’ve always found you annoyingly amazing. Now it’s just not so annoying anymore.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Is it so hard to believe?”

Baz presses his lips together for a split second. “Honestly, yes. We hated each other for years, fought like cats and dogs. I assumed I had ruined any chance of that changing.”

“Well,” I move even closer so our thighs press together, “you didn’t. Because I like this.”

“What is this?”

“This!” I gesture wildly between us. “What we’re doing right now. I like this, I like you.”

He looks so shocked, yet there’s a twinkle of happiness too. “Like me how? As...a friend?”

And he calls me oblivious. I squeeze his hand again. “That depends. I know it’s been a long time, so have your...feelings about me gone away?”

Baz stares at me, studying my face. I just watch his eyes roam over me again and again. Then he reaches forward and delicately places his hand on my cheek, just like last night. Except it feels more purposeful. And so much better.

“No,” he says quietly, “they haven’t gone away. I don’t think they ever could.”

My body feels so light and happy and indescribably full. I’ve never felt like this before. Not with anyone. It’s hit me so suddenly, yet it feels so right. I’m grinning, I can’t stop grinning.

“Okay,” I say. “I feel the same.”

Baz’s hand falls, touching my arm. He raises a perplexed eyebrow. “Okay, but since when?”

I shrug, which makes Baz roll his eyes. “I’m not sure. All I know is that I do. That’s what really matters, right?”

He sighs. His hand moves up and down my arm. I can’t tell if he’s studying me or trying to hold on. “I suppose, yes.”

“Exactly. So why don’t we give it a shot?”

“What are you saying, Snow?”

“I’m saying I want to be your boyfriend.” Baz’s lips falls open and hand slips slightly down my arm. I hold onto him tighter. “Like, fair warning, I’m not a great boyfriend. I forget things, I’m super clumsy, and I haven’t dated anyone seriously since Agatha, so my experience is limited. But I like you. And I’m not asking for something serious right now, I just want to give this a try. Do you maybe want to?”

Baz’s face is such strange, confusing mixture. His brows are tense and pulled together. They scream worry and doubt. His thin beautiful lips hang open is absolute disbelief. But his eyes, a mix of dark blue and dark green, are filled to the brim with hope.

“I’m a doctor,” he blurts out.

“Um, yeah, I know,” I reply, trying not to laugh.

He shakes his head violently. “No, you don’t understand. I’m a medical resident. I’m at the hospital almost every day. I have barely any free time, and if I do I use it to sleep. And I don’t have much experience either. I’ve had two semi serious relationships that both ended in flames. I’m terrible at everything relationship related, probably even more than you, Snow.”

Baz looks so frantic and scared, but he’s hanging on to my hand. In spite of harsh realities, he doesn’t want to let go. I think he’s expecting me to admit defeat and walk away. But what he doesn’t seem to get, is that I don’t want to let go either.

I move closer, and cup his face this time. Baz instinctively leans into it. “You called me Simon before.”

He lets out a bursting laugh, sudden and unwanted. He immediately calms down, but there’s a little smile there. “Really? That’s what you care about?”

“Yeah. Because I like hearing you say it, and I like this. So,” I squeeze his hand again, “I want to try, no matter the risks. We’ll just deal with the rest later.”

He gives me a doubtful expression. “That’s your solution? Put off thinking about the problems we may face?”

“Yup. Because I want this, you want this, and that’s all that matters.”

“I guess...”

Stupid bastard still overthinks everything. I don’t want his mind far away, I want it right here with me. I brush my thumb over the soft skin of his cheek. “Plus, I’d rather focus on other things right now.”

“Oh? What things?”

“Well, more a question.” I deliberately move my hand lower, tracing under his bottom lip. “You said you wished you had kissed me when we were in school.”

He gulps. I watch his Adam’s apple bob slowly. “Yes, I did.”

“So, do you still want to kiss me?”

His eyes flick down, just for a moment. I can feel his hot breath on my face. “Yes.”

I smile, leaning close so our noses brush. “Then do it.”

Baz doesn’t ask for anymore assurance. He just leans forward, pressing his mouth to mine. And my mind completely implodes.

His lips are colder than Agatha’s, than anyone’s really. It’s like kissing a soft autumn breeze. Just chilly enough to send shivers over your skin. Yet when he takes my bottom lip between his teeth, I melt completely, leaning closer and wrapping my arms around his neck. He clutches my sides, hanging on with a death grip. Like he never wants to let me go. (I wouldn’t mind that.) It’s an awkward position, but I couldn’t care less anymore. I run my hand through his hair. It’s soft and slips through my fingers, just like I thought it would. I clench my fist and push his face into mine. I more feel him groan than hear it. He bunches my shirt in his own fists. I like him here, under my hands, not off being sad or drunk, where I know he’s okay. I’ve got you know, Baz, I’m not letting go.

From that first press of our lips, I know I want this. Baz feels perfect and wonderful. I want to kiss him forever. It’s strange, to have something you never knew you wanted before, and suddenly need to hang onto it forever.

We both pull apart at relatively the same time, flushed and out of breath. Baz’s eyes flutter open. His pupils are blown incredibly huge, and his lips are swollen and pink. I think mine are too, at least it feels like they are. I’ve never felt so elated from just one kiss. I’m sure I never will again.

“Wow,” I breathe out.

Baz lets out a breathy laugh, so quiet and sweet. “Very eloquent.”

I chuckle too, twisting a strand of his hair. “Yeah, well, that’s all I can manage right now. I think you broke my brain.”

“Don’t stroke my ego too much, Snow. I’ll get a big head.”

“You mean a bigger one?”

Baz glares, but when I flash one grin, his entire face melts. My heart melts too. It’s in a goddamn puddle on the floor forever.

Baz presses one hand to his temple, eyes squinting shut. “Bloody hell, all the drinking and excitement is too much for my head.”

“Did you take the aspirin I left?”

“Yes, but apparently that only does so much. I want coffee.”

“I’ve got some. Probably not very fancy, but it’s good enough. That alright?”

He flashes a lopsided grin. It’s incredibly sweet, making me smile in return. “That would be wonderful, Simon.”

God, I want to hear him say my name like that a thousand times.

We reluctantly untangle ourselves, but our hands stay linked. I lead Baz to my tiny dining room table. He sits on the far side, facing the open space of my kitchenette. My hand drags across his as we reluctantly let go. I walk into the room and flip on my ancient coffee machine.

“How do you take your coffee?” I say over my shoulder. “Black?”

“Actually, I like a lot of cream and sugar.”

I laugh loudly and smile at him. “Still have a sweet tooth, huh?”

“Absolutely.”

“Of course. I still remember how you would steal my mint aeros.”

“You have no proof of that, Snow,” he singsongs.

His voice is light and joking. I look over my shoulder, and see his soft smile. I want to see that smile all the time. I want to find out every little happy expression he has, the ones I never got to see when we were kids.

“I’ll find some,” I reply..

“It’ll take a lot of coaxing.”

I lean against the counter, looking at him. Really looking at him. Baz Pitch, the former arsehole bully, now the mostly well adjusted altruistic doctor, still someone who can occupy most of my thoughts. This is all new yet so familiar.

“Good thing we’ve got time,” I say.

Baz leans his cheek on his palm. From his calm, happy expression, I know he agrees. We’ve got time to not just catch up, but start something strange and beautiful and new.

And I’ve never been so excited in my life.

———————————————

AN: Is this a bit unrealistic? Yes. Is this super adorable? Also yes. Hope you guys thought the same. I def enjoy writing drunk Baz and switching it up so Simon has glasses this time. And I like Simon's total obliviousness to his own feelings. He's a dumb romantic little shit lol. Thanks for reading, see y'all next time :D

PS: XOYO is a real bar. Hopefully they don't have to deal with drunk traumatized psychiatry residents too much lol.

#carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #penelope bunce #normal au #reunion #enemies to friends to lovers #getting together #mysnowbazfic

[gizkasparadise]

@zeroconnection

❤❤❤ exactly! Do u know of other movies with similar themes?

I THOUGHT OF THIS FOR A WHILE and can’t really get anything that’s EXACTLY the same as IT so idk here’s my favorite horror movies--i tend to not like straight up slasher or gore films and prefer ones that have actual characters and character relations so hopefully you’ll like something on the list? i also like Female Lead movies for the most part, so a big chunk of these have female leads. i tried to just make a list but started doing little blurbs so enjoy the blurbs :’|

TRAIN TO BUSAN. legit my #1 favorite horror movie (in my top 5 favorite movies of all time tbh). watch train to busan. the premise sounds really tired--people are stuck on a train going from seoul to busan and zombies are attacking--but it’s not really about the zombies. it’s super refreshing because the movie is about how people help each other out in times of danger / how humans have to stick together to survive. 

Let the Right One In. actually, this one is very IT. 12 year old Oskar would fit right in with the Losers club, it takes place in the 1980s, and has a sweet love story as well. (note, i’ve only seen the 2008/Swedish version. no idea how the remake is)

Byzantium. under!! rated !!! a mom (gemma arterton) and daughter (saorise ronan) vampire making their way through time. explores a lot of cool concepts that most vampire films don’t. centered on the ladies

Midsommar. a grief movie masquerading as a cult movie masquerading as a black comedy. the aesthetics are on point, and you’ll feel held by this movie :’D. i love that the entire film/palette is bright and beautiful. florence pugh kills it. chidi’s there.

The VVitch / The Witch. pilgrimy puritans (or whatever they were) living in a haunted forest doesn’t sound all that interesting but it is. really atmospheric and more of a crawling tension. also very Girl Power 

The Haunting of Hill House (series). This series made me cry like two times, okay. it’s a ghost story, but it’s also a story about a fucked up/broken family and mental illness. there’s also love stories within it. it’s one of the first stories i’ve seen that honestly integrates mental illness with horror and doesn’t do it in a cheap/exploitative way (LOOKING AT YOU, BIRD BOX fuck bird box). 

The Babadook. I thought this was going to be the standard Creepy Child movie when i first started it, but it’s a strangely beautiful?? look at grief and loss.

Hereditary. lol fuck this movie. but it’s a good movie. but gd. this one unnerved me A LOT (same filmmaker as midsommar). Toni Collette killed it.

Get Out. totally worth all the hype it gets--body horror, social commentary, and it also has its moments of dark comedy too. it’s also one of the rare movies where you really really root for the protagonist

The Ritual. Kind of like Midsommar’s B-Side. a bunch of dudes go backpacking in a swedish forest and awaken / stumble across an ancient being. also about grief and regret, and i liked the complicated relationships between the group of friends.

Suspiria. legit the prettiest movie i have ever seen. also very Girl Power (achem). ballet and witchcraft you know how it goes

Crimson Peak. v. Goth. v. Aesthetic. v. Jessica Chastain’s movie lbr.

Snowpiercer skirts the line for horror, but i’m going to add it anyway. The world is frozen and everyone alive is trapped on a continuously moving train. This movie has everything: class systems, tilda swinton with fake teeth, eggs, and chris evans with stubble.

#gizkarec #long post #horror movie recs

[creativity-is-rebellion]

More Top 20 Must-See Horror Movies

 Especially now we are in isolation, who doesn’t crave a good horror movie to watch? To that purpose, I have created yet another top 20 must-see horror movies, along with why you should be watching them. So get into your comfy clothes and blanket, grab some popcorn, and settle in to watch these horror gems (WARNING: May contain spoilers).

1) Ginger Snaps (2000)

I first saw this movie when I was fifteen years old, and, watching it recently, I was still impressed how it handles the perils of transitioning from teenhood to womanhood. Ginger Snaps follows the story of two outcast sisters, Ginger (Katharine Isabelle) and Brigitte (Emily Perkins), in the mindless suburban town of Bailey Downs. On the night of Ginger's first period, she is savagely attacked by a wild creature. Ginger Snaps is a terrifying movie with good character development, acting is convincing and it has a fast-paced story line. If you're into well-done horror movies Ginger Snaps is the movie for you. It is one of the best modern werewolf movies I have seen.

2) Annihilation (2018)

Drawing on mythology and body horror, Annihilation is an intelligent film that asks big questions and refuses to provide easy answers. It is Sci-fi horror at its best, boasting a very intriguing and unique idea whilst entertaining the viewer throughout the film. Definitely a must-watch.

3) Green Room (2015)

A punk rock band becomes trapped in a secluded venue after finding a scene of violence. For what they saw, the band themselves become targets of violence from a gang of white power skinheads who want to eliminate all evidence of the crime. Influenced by exploitation movies of the 1970s (and punk music of the 1980s), this horror-thriller is rooted in a gripping, grisly kind of realism without resorting to lazy coincidence or stupidity. This is again a fresh take on horror and worth a view.

4) 1922 (2017)

I learned from a great film critic many years back that your own best judgement of a movie is best discovered when you realise that you are still thinking of it many days later. This Stephen King film stays true to the iconic master with all the tell-tale signs of a Kings classic: A haunting grimness that lingers throughout the movie, a tragedy and of course, outstanding performances. The mother that returns from the dead leaves you in a crazy suspense of whether it is simply a dream, a man’s demented insanity, or an actual reality. Thomas Jane’s performance was stellar and totally believable as a farmer in rural America in 1922. He actually takes you through the movie as if you were part of him and what is going on. The message that Stephen King leaves you with is dreadfully powerful of how greed can destroy all. Definitely worth the watch, especially for Stephen King fans.

5) Evil Dead (1981; remake 2013)

Both versions of this movie are great, but I have a special fondness for the original, which was Sam Raimi’s directorial debut. The camerawork is amazing for a low-budget film, and the creepy atmosphere is eerily accurate. We feel Ash’s pain when his friend, sister and girlfriend are one-by-one changed into Deadites, and the ending keeps you guessing, and wanting, a sequel. I am quite a fan of the Evil Dead franchise actually, and have just finished watching the TV adaptation Ash vs. Evil Dead. I’m savouring the last episodes, and am sad that it got cancelled. I look forward to more from this franchise, hopefully in the not-to-distant future.

6) Get Out (2017)

This film is unique, telling the tale of young black man who meets his white girlfriend’s parents for the first time. Jordan Peele’s film delivers a chilling satire of liberal racism in the US. More than just a standard-issue thriller, this brutal, smart movie is impeccably made, as well as surprising, shocking, and funny, while also offering a compassionate, thoughtful look at race. Expect only the very best a film has to offer, with a nasty twist at the end that you won’t see coming. 

7) Hell Night (1981)

One of the best things about this movie which follows fraternity and sorority pledges who spend the night in a mansion haunted by victims of a family massacre is that it stars legendary Scream Queen of The Exorcist fame, Linda Blair. Other than that, prepare for a fun, wild ride, the way every good slasher movie should be.

8) Insidious Part 2 (2013)

I actually enjoyed this sequel more than the first movie, as it was less plodding and more action-packed, with an intriguing antagonist in the form of the mysterious “Bride in Black,” who turns out to be the evil spirit of serial killer Parker Crane, who, as we know from the previous movie (SPOILER ALERT) has taken over the body of Josh Lambert, and is fighting for control of his soul. I enjoyed seeing the return of Elise Rainier, who was (SPOILER ALERT AGAIN) killed off in the previous movie. James Wan directed this second helping even more masterfully than the first. A must-watch.

9) Sleepaway Camp (1983)

This is a campy slasher gem, where they cast real teenagers, which elevated the drama of the plot somewhat. Sleepaway Camp tells the story of a young girl named Angela who goes to Camp Arawak with her cousin Ricky. Once the two arrive at camp, a series of events/killings leads the campers to discover that there is a killer on the loose. Sleepaway Camp is not in any way intense or fast paced. However, even though many initially might look at as a “rip off” slasher film, the movie does get creative when it comes to the brutal killings and certain aspects to the film that no one saw coming. Including the jaw-dropping twist at the end. I’m not giving it away. You just have to watch it.

10) Cold Prey (Fritt Vilt) (2006)

This movie takes full advantage of its snowy, secluded set-pieces, using Norway’s harsh winter landscape to masterfully build tension and heighten the sense of isolation. As horror movies go, Cold Prey is a slow-starter, committing the first third of its running time to investigating the signs of violence scattered throughout the hotel, allowing the characters to theorise about what pernicious acts may have taken place before the hotel’s abandonment. It begins at the intriguing yet deliberate pace of a psychological horror film as the sequestered friends, initially inebriated and giggly, explore the hotel and sharing secrets, but the movie’s party-hard atmosphere bursts open at the 40-minute mark to reveal a black horror centre. Slick and stylish, Cold Prey is a genuine pleasure to watch.

11) The Hills Have Eyes (1977; remake 2006)

Even if it echoes a better film (namely, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre), the original movie is still an important one to view for lovers of the horror genre.  This is a sometimes ghastly  - and occasionally absurd - shocker that really gets under one's skin. Though many critics initially despised the original outing, it has since been called one of the best horror movies of the 1970s. Scary-movie specialist Wes Craven made this viscerally-violent feature on a low budget, and some horror connoisseurs call it his best. Ultimately the "normal" people strike back with a ferocious blood-lust they didn't know they had, and the question is how much a "civilised" person can be pushed before one becomes a savage. Are the Carters really all that much "better" than Jupiter and his spawn? That is a question that you, as the audience member, are required to ponder.

12) The Dawn of the Dead (2004)

This remake of George A. Romero's 1978 sequel to Night of the Living Dead soups up the zombies, cranks up the gross factor to 11, and has a lot of cheeky in-jokes about its predecessor. In comparison with the original, out are the shrieking blondes and rampaging looters, in are smart, controlled Ana (Sarah Polley as a believable nurse not afraid to wield a fire poker) and Kenneth (Ving Rhames), who is exactly the kind of cop you want walking beside you if you are facing scores of the undead.

The zombies are a bit spryer in this film, and the pregnancy of one of the main characters is not the life-giving promise it was in the first movie. But the ending is what differs most from the original. If you're a fan of the horror genre, then this flick is a welcome, if derivative, fright-fest in the school of Romero's classics.

13) The Cabin in The Woods (2011)

What starts out as another five-band teen getaway to a cabin in the woods ends up becoming a fresh take on the trope, with puppeteers behind what is taking place, in a twisted game of Choose Your Adventure. The ending is fittingly grim, but you won’t be disappointed. Definitely worth one hour and thirty-five minutes of your time.

14) The Babadook (2014)

The feature debut of writer-director Jennifer Kent is not just genuinely, deeply scary, but also a beautifully told tale of a mother and son, enriched with layers of contradiction and ambiguity. It presents grief as a demon, questions reality, and creeps out the viewer by making psychopathology seem like something that could happen to anybody. The style of the film is not teasing exactly - it's too sad and lonely - but there is certainly a hair-pulling mixture of glum laughter and vast apprehension. Is the demon real? Does it matter? That’s for you to judge. Either way, if it’s in a word, or if it’s with a look, you can’t get rid of the Babadook.

15) Suspiria (Original and the Remake - 1977 and 2019 respectively)

Suspiria is a baroque piece of esoteric expressionism that you enter - and exit - without understanding so much as feeling. It's always fascinating to watch; the thrills and spills are so classy and fast that the movie becomes in effect what horror movies seemed like when you were too young to get in to see them. Director Dario Agento works so hard for his effects -- throwing around shock cuts, coloured lights, and peculiar camera angles -that it would be impolite not to be a little frightened. This entry stands out as it is a visually beautiful horror movie, a bright fantasy that lives off its aesthetic. If you are a horror fan and haven’t seen this movie yet, then you’re not living right. The remake is also worth a watch, something that is oftentimes unique in the horror genre.

16) A Quiet Place (2018)

This gripping, clever monster movie is one of those rare genre treats that seizes on a simple, unique idea and executes it so perfectly and concisely that it elicits satisfying squeals of delight. It's directed and co-written by Krasinski, who's best known for his work in comedy but translates his experience in that genre to the expert building and releasing of tension here. A Quiet Place is, in many ways, like an extended classic horror movie sequence, such as famous ones in The Birds or Aliens, wherein the heroes must try not to disturb packs of resting monsters.

At the same time, Krasinski uses his quiet moments like music, ranging from moments of restful beauty -- including a father-son trip to a waterfall, where it's noisy enough that they can talk and even shout -- to moments of pause. A loud noise can cause a jump, but it's immediately followed by tension and dread: Will the creatures come this time? The real beauty is the movie's primal quality, based on the most basic elements of life, such as survival and protection of the species. No explanation is given for the monsters' existence; they, like us, are just here. Images of water, sand, bare feet, crops, and plant life serve to underline the theme of life itself. A few overly familiar horror movie clichés keep it from being perfect, but otherwise A Quiet Place is so good that it will leave viewers speechless.

17) The Exorcist (1973)

Once famously dubbed ‘the most terrifying movie ever made,” this movie is steeped in urban legend, especially concerning the unfortunate happenings that occurred when it was being made. 

If you think your teen is ready for this shocking film, keep in mind that some audience members in the '70s reportedly fainted after seeing Dick Smith's grisly makeup effects on Blair. In some extreme cases, viewers even required psychiatric care. Also, the moans, snarls, and profane utterances from Regan (most are actually the dubbed-in voice of a well-known older actress, Mercedes McCambridge) amount to some of the most chilling audio ever done for film.

Thanks in part to Linda Blair's wrenching, Oscar-nominated performance, The Exorcist was a huge hit, earning back 10 times its $10 million budget (a then-lavish sum, outrageous for a "mere" horror flick). Movie historians cite it (along with The Texas Chainsaw Massacre) as the conclusive end of old-school spook shows featuring Dracula and Frankenstein and bobbing rubber bats. If you haven’t watched it yet, you may have your horror movie fan card revoked.

18) The Final Destination Franchise (2000 - 2011)

If I had to list all of the movies in the Final Destination franchise in order of quality, I would say 5, 1, 2, 3, and 4. Fourth instalment withstanding, the series is a formidable addition to the horror genre, as the invisible killer, Death Itself, stalks its victims and kills them off in creatively gruesome ways after they initially cheat death. The fifth addition contains an awesome twist at the end which in hindsight you should have seen coming throughout the entire movie. Pay close attention. The only downside is (SPOILER ALERT) that none of the characters throughout the series really survive.

19) Let the Right One In (Lat den Ratte Komma In) (2008)

Please watch the Swedish version, and power through the subtitles. This is a horror movie that is tragic on multiple levels, as it deals with a lonely and bullied boy who so happens to live next door to a pubescent vampire. When her benefactor dies, we see how the main character’s life will also unfold, and what lies in his future. A must-see film that is more than just your average horror movie.

20) Terrifier (2017)

This movie definitely gets back to basics by paying homage to the original slasher classics. Art the Clown, who we are originally introduced to in the 2013 movie All Hallow’s Eve (also worth a watch), is a vicious horror movie villain who kills just for kicks. He also subverts the horror movie trope by using a weapon which was previously considered off-limits to horror movie villains, especially those with supernatural abilites (mostly, anyway). This movie also contains one of the bloodiest deaths in recent horror movie history. I like the use of practical effects over the often-overdone CGI. What is Art the Clown? Deranged killer? Demonic entity? Who cares? Its all good fun. Watch it now on Netflix.

I’ll probably be back again some time in the future with a further 20 horror movies that are worth a watch, because there are so many of them. To everyone, take care during these uncertain times.

#good horror movies #Horror Movies #horror movie buff #i love horror #terrifier #art the clown #annihilation #ginger snaps #the exorcist #final destination #let the right one in #fritt vilt #cold prey #a quiet place #suspiria #the babadook #the cabin in the woods #the hills have eyes #the dawn of the dead #sleepaway camp #insidious part 2 #the further #get out #hell night #green room #evil dead #deadites #zombies #watch movies #chill nights in

[frostygar]

The Flash S5 Ep5 Thoughts

- If I were Nora I wouldn’t come either, you betrayed her heart and her trust.

- Nora may have almost hurt a couple BUT I love sassy Nora who rebels against her parents it’s really refreshing for someone to actually not like Iris. And she caught the bad guy so WOO NORA MY BABY IS DOING JUST FINE

- So the writers finally wrote someone to tell Iris how she acts “condescending, I know better than you” and they most certainly do not have Iris change, AND Nora ends up forgiving her? Wack. Unrealistic. Boring. Change things up smh

- “You know, Nora, I wish you would try to understand who your mom is today.” UMMM BITCH SHE’S THE SAME DIDN’T YOU JUST HEAR HER???? Also why don’t YOU try to understand your daughter’s actions under years of neglect from your step sister. (also I watch Riverdale and that show pisses me off but NOTHING has ever pissed me off this much omggggggg)

- Cisco is back! YASSS WE HAVE MISSED THE VIBES 🥺🥺🥺

- OMG PROFESSOR STEIN!!! Small crossover we love to see it, and we also love to see Cisco and Caitlin’s friendship! Even if it hurt Cisco ugh a crying atm

- UMMMMM EW. EW WHAT THE FLYING FUCK WHY IS THAT CREEPIER THAN ANY RECENT HORROR MOVIE please…….. I much prefer Elongated Man… aLSOO ALSO how did they not hear that weirdo fucking pounding his fucking hands into the glass I feel nauseous. 

- I know I wanted journalist!Iris again but like because she’s being even worse than she normally his (and Barry) I literally just want her to get the fuck off the screen. I even took a small break and watched something else and I can still feel the anger inside of my body… like I just can’t even look at Iris OR Barry. That’s just sad… the worst sibling duo since Bughead 

- Barry working with your journalist sister-wife is probably not professional but no one would ever point that out so… rip to me wanting to watch shows that down ruin everything over a disgusting

- Schrap… give us more of these cool words to use I love them. ALSO NORA AND CECILE BONDING WE LOVE TO SEE IT

- Oh Cecile not you too… if Iris doesn’t respect her own daughter she’s not owed respect back. Besides, since when the FUCK is it “disrespectful” to say that your mom nags at you… all mom’s do it. Nora is raving about her mom wanting to control her and is talking abut her nagging at her over everything and Cecile is like "this is the west household and that means that all west's are respected" like girl you have been civil and understanding to everyone and everything this whole time and suddenly its out the window??? I understand that in black households it’s a big thing to respect your parents, especially a mother who raised a child alone, but this is some pedestal bullshit and highkey right now I want basically everyone except Nora, Caitlin, Cisco, Ralph, and even Sherloque, fucking dead for the rest of the episode………. wow I never thought a show could literally make me this mad.

- That scene afterwards was really weird. Like in my family we can never really move on like that, but also how would Nora get all of that to fit together and stay for like five seconds and why wouldn’t Cecile give Nora the screws like—

- Cisco vibing the chalkboard and knowing it’ll hurt him and he’s not going to tell anyone I’m: sad.

- “Did I scare him away?” CAITLIN! 😭🥺 Also didn’t he MAKE Killer Frost or am I just dumb and slow lol

- This Meta is so gross yet so cool asdfghjkl EW THAT’S GONNA GIVE ME NIGHTMARES, THE META’S MASK HEAD THING BEING IN SIGHT AND THEN DISAPPEARING AFTER SAYING “FLASH” EWWW although funnily enough I’d rather watch that than Iris and Barry so um

- How is The Flash able to make the most disgusting, creepiest thing than like any horror movie

- Barry trying to force date shit with Iris is so awkward and weird and forced… I hate it a lot

- This woman not being impressed with Iris or Barry is giving me life … ARE THEY REALLY NOT REALIZING THAT IRIS IS BASICALLY THAT WOMAN IN THE FUTURE WITH NORA??? “She’s so cold, she gave her son what she thought he needed but was wrong” like… how dense are these fuckers???

- Why is Barry acting like this is his last night with Iris? Like I can wish but why is this forced domesticity that makes me want to rip out my eyes happening rn? EW I WAS LOOKING DOWN AT MY LAPTOP AND I ALMOST DIDN’T SEE THE META IN THE CORNER I’M SO DISGUSTED.

- Barry,,, she is exactly like that woman fuck off there’s a time to be supportive to both women and rn it’s not to Iris. GOD NOT IRIS ACTUALLY REALIZING IT OVER BARRY??? The fanservice and ruining Barry’s character is real and it HURTS

- Why is the meta looking at Barry and Iris as if he knows who they are… he only knows the flash

- Caitlin realizing he was hurting himself to help her I— “I could bring my value to the team” BUT YOU DID WAY BEFORE YOUR POWERS. You’re smart, you know science, you help The Flash help people. Sure the powers are a big bonus but he brought so much value even before :( If anything ever happens to Cisco and Caitlin’s friendship, ever, I will kill everyone and then myself

- I know this show is about The Flash and rn the season is about Nora but like,,, constantly talking about her and having westallen scenes is just so… overdone. They talked about it outside of the gala, then it showed Cisco and Caitlin for a few minutes and then they’re back. Give it some rest Jesus

- Every time someone says that Iris probably dampens Nora’s powers to keep her safe literally feels more like “the more I say it the more true it has to be” like… shut the fuck up can someone (Caitlin or Cisco) PLEASE slap some fucking sense into this boy??? Blindly following after your sister-wife isn’t healthy and it’s dumb as fuck. See, kids, this is why you don’t date and marry (and eventually have a kid with) your step sister

- Now Iris is being the smart one…………………. this is the weirdest, forced bullshit that I’m more used to from Riverdale.

- I’m glad there’s more cute bonding between Cecile and Nora. But what kind of kids would be mean to someone who lost their parents? That’s a tv thing yes but irl??? I’ve never heard or seen it and it just… cannot be true. Also how does Cecile know about a story from when Barry was ten?? Like how would this come up with her and Joe for him to tell her? Really that story was… westallen? And the fanservice grows… That was an awful way to show Nora that Iris sometimes can be a good person when she was in ELEMENTARY SCHOOL. God why does NO ONE get that Nora was raised by an awful mom and she already has all of these bad feelings for her? Why are they trying so desperately hard to downplay Nora’s rightful feelings? Oh, right, because Iris isn’t supposed to be able to do wrong… God why do we watch the CW’s awful shows that pander to toxic/gross couples that are catered to while the better main side cast is tossed to the side?

- That was a weird (and creepy) scene with a random face call by Iris lol

- OH GOOD RALPH IS BACK BECAUSE APPARENTLY EVERYONE FORGOT ABOUT HIM LOL. HE’S FUCKING SPIDERMAN-ING HISMELF OMG??? Also why does Iris have to come along every single fucking time?? Also also how didi the meta know whoo to capture like all he saw was The Flash

- MAKE THIS META INTO AN ACTUAL HORROR MOVIE BC THIS SHIT IS SO FUCKING SCARY. LIKE SOME PEOPLE SOMEHOW SAY THAT THE BABADOOK IS SCARY (when it’s boring and not scary at all smh) BUT THIS IS SO FUCKED

- YES META DUDE HURT IRIS PLEASE WE. BEG OF YOU 

- Did Iris just fucking jump… for Barry… when Ralph should be the one getting him? The pandering I—

- EW RALPH… ATE HIM?

- The way that Iris is suddenly called a badass… the fanservice isn’t even trying to be hidden

- RAGDOLL WHAT A GREAT META NAME

- Don’t tell me that after a couple of stories of Iris as a kid suddenly makes Nora forget all the times future Iris treated her like trash and thinks it’s okay because she has the ability to be nice (but never is)???

- Future Iris made her “accomplishments” off limits??? What kind of dumbassery—

- They’re gonna make the one character who actually called Iris out forgive her after five episodes??? Jesus we couldn’t have one thing, one character who doesn’t like Iris could we?

- I’ve never seen any books or movies about Nancy Drew (but I will give the new one a try because I’ve heard it’s good) but when the awful detective female leads (basically just Betty and Iris) call themselves Nancy Drew makes me automatically hate Nancy Drew. If Nancy is a selfish, annoying, whiny bitch who can’t do no wrong and butts into people’s lives then she sure is like Iris and Betty

- This family bonding is just so fucking FORCED. Poor westallens having their scenes have to shoved in and the quality ruined. I’d feel bad if I wasn’t called racist for how they write Iris (and Barry together). I already go through this shit on Riverdale I’m basically just dead inside lol

- WAIT SO AFTER ALL THIS TIME NOW YOU THINK ABOUT USING DEVOE’S SATELLITES??? WHY WOULDN’T THAT BE THE FIIRST THING AFTER SALLY WAS DESTROYED?

- Cisco understanding that Caitlin is afraid and not ready yet 🥺🥺

- So that episode was fucking AWFUL. The only good thing about it was Cisco and Caitlin’s friendship and the cool yet horrifying meta. Everything else was just… the fucking worst. I’d literally rather watch disgusting Bughead step sibling kissing scenes than people try to downplay Nora’s feelings all because “no one can hate Iris” uwu

- I’m not usually this… hateful. But something about that and (typically older) people using the “you HAVE to respect your elders!” mindset when they don’t respect the people younger than them. Like, if my older sister doesn’t respect me, why the fuck would I respect her? Respect isn’t given, it’s earned.

#The Flash #Barry Allen #Caitlin Snow #Cisco Ramon #anti-westallen #Nora Allen #anti-Iris West #Ralph Dibny

[tlbodine]

A Decade of Horror Recommendations

With 2020 approaching, we’re reaching the end of a decade that has been uncommonly good to the horror genre, especially the last few years. Here’s an overview of some of the stand-out titles and my recommendations. Feel free to ask me about any of the titles on this list and I’ll happily share my more in-depth thoughts on them! 

Note that, of course, I have not seen every movie that’s come out in recent years, so I’ve probably missed some titles -- feel free to jump in with your own recommendations! 

Also this post is really long and has gifs, so I’m putting it under a cut. Sorry for the dash spam, mobile fam. Tell Tumblr to fix their shit. 

2010: Supernatural Horror Starts Making a Comeback 

Some stand-out films: 

Insidious: An important film for modern horror history, helping to usher in the new wave of paranormal/hauntings/demon films. It lays the tropes for a lot of the films that would get big in upcoming years. I thought it was pretty solidly decent. 

Devil: A clever script about being trapped on an elevator with the devil. It’s a bit too ambitious and doesn’t quite live up to those ambitions, but it’s solidly decent and refreshingly original. A hidden gem for the year. 

Black Swan: Maybe the height of Darren Aronofsky’s career as a household name. Not my favorite of his movies, but a pretty solid psychological suspense. 

Frozen: No, not that one. This is a clever movie that embraces a narrow scope: some teenagers get stuck on a ski lift and have to endure the elements and some hungry wolves below. Not a great movie, but worth watching as a study in what you can do with limited resources. 

Black Death: Quick shout-out for a dark and grisly historical horror involving witchcraft and torture. It’s not a fun movie to watch, but it’s got Sean Bean and Eddie Redmayne, and I feel like both original screenplays and historical horrors are rare enough to warrant support. 

2010 also had its share of predictable franchise tie-ins (a Saw movie, a Resident Evil movie, remakes like I Spit on Your Grave and The Crazies, etc.) The Horror Renaissance was a few years in coming. 

2011: The Year of the Predictable Remakes 

So many franchises getting flogged to death this year -- tripe like SCRE4M, Final Destination 5, Human Centipede 2, a Hellraiser reboot literally no one watched, and Paranormal Activity 3. Blech. BUT. 2011 also brought us a couple of my favorite movies ever: 

You’re Next: I would credit You’re Next with re-defining the “final girl” in horror. Also it’s a damn good home invasion movie with buckets of gore and a smart script. 

Cabin in the Woods: This one’s a bit divisive -- some folks really hated it I guess -- but it’s such a loving deconstruction of horror, and it’s wholly original even while being comfortingly familiar. Also it’s hilarious. 

2012: A Few Important Titles

I feel like 2012 was full of movies nobody has actually ever seen or talked about. But some of the good ones that I’d recommend: 

Sinister: Like Insidious in some ways, but maybe better.  Also, “Snakes don’t have feet.” Honestly just a very good, solid demon/haunted kid movie. 

V/H/S: A must-watch for horror buffs. It didn’t invent the found footage genre, but it did refine it and really show off what it could do best. 

Smiley: OK so like. This is not really a great film, but I think about it a lot and recommend it a lot. It’s stuck with me quite a bit somehow, and in some ways it feels very much ahead of its time as a creepy prediction of what internet culture would be like at the end of the decade. “We did it for the lulz.” Seriously, watch this movie today, and remember that it was made eight years ago, and see if it gives you chills too. 

I guess I should also mention Prometheus here, which lots of people liked. I was not one of them, but it was a heavily talked-about film I feel like and of course an Alien franchise tie-in. 

2013: The Year the World Remembered It Liked Horror 

This was a big turning point year, launching some new franchises instead of just re-treading old ones: 

The Conjuring: I personally hate all of these movies, but they are huge and you can’t swing a dead cat in the modern horror fandom without encountering one of them. The first Conjuring film was at least decent. For extra credit, watch it as a triple feature with Insidious and Sinister and do a compare/contrast. 

The Purge: Not only the start of a successful franchise but also a pop culture phenomenon and a damn good movie to boot. 

Mama: I love this movie. I have this movie on DVD. It’s kind of bittersweet and may not completely follow through on all of its promises, but it’s still quite good and has some lovely performances. 

Warm Bodies: Not really a horror -- kind of a romance -- but it warrants mention here because zombies were a hot item in 2013, and that’s a current special interest of mine on account of having a zombie book of my own coming out that is more than a little influenced by this story. (the film is a pretty good adaptation of the book, although honestly you could just skip the movie and read the book and get a better experience.)  

Willow Creek: I feel like I recommend this movie a lot, but that’s just because I think it’s very good and a very smart use of its own resources. A found footage mockumentary that actually manages to make Bigfoot frightening. Totally worth the watch. 

Mr. Jones: Here’s another hidden gem, also in found footage style (I feel like that was a prevailing theme in the years after V/H/S) but it’s surprisingly fresh. It’s a folk horror piece that doesn’t go at all where you might expect despite its thoroughly well-trodden ‘couple in secluded house’ setup. 

A bucketful of remakes and sequels this year too, including an Evil Dead reboot, V/H/S sequel, Insidious sequel, etc.  I should also probably mention World War Z, which was not actually very good and also had nothing in common with the book of the same name, but does mark an important moment in the mainstreaming of the zombie revival, especially considering it came out the same year as Warm Bodies. 

2014: Fuck Yeah People Actually Like This Shit Let’s Make More 

I feel like maybe our current horror renaissance started this year. Some recs: 

The Babadook: No surprises to anyone who follows my blog, but I love The Babadook and I will defend it to the bitter end against its detractors. It is one of my favorite horror films of all time and one of the best of the decade. 

It Follows: Ok confession, I actually did not like this movie at all. I thought it was ridiculous and over-hyped. But it makes the list because a lot of other people really, really loved it, and I accept that they saw something in it that I didn’t. Watch it and make up your own mind (and report back with your findings). 

As Above, So Below: This may be the most claustrophobic film ever made, and it deserves to be studied on that merit alone. It’s also pretty creepy and I suspect a lot creepier for folks who are unnerved by Christian horror/mythology (I am not, but I know lots of folks really are). 

Housebound: A hidden gem from New Zealand, this one is worth a watch because it takes a familiar haunted house premise and gives it a surprising and honestly delightful twist. 

Jessabelle: Not a great movie, but deserving of a spot here because it’s a Southern Gothic and features a main character in a wheelchair, which I think is neat. 

13 Sins: I feel like I’ve written about this movie for the blog before, and I recommend it a lot. But it’s clever and is a great early example of the “killing game” genre that has become increasingly prevalent (I mean, aside from the Battle Royale/Hunger Games version). 

It was neat to see so many original horror stories (as opposed to reboots/franchises) coming out, and that’s a trend that would continue (and is something that makes horror one of my preferred genres - there are more original stories in it than in many other types of film). 

2015: Hell Yeah Let’s Ride This Horror Train 

So many excellent movies this year! Ahh! 

Crimson Peak: Guillermo del Toro’s love letter to the Gothic. What I love about this movie (aside from Tom Hiddleston) is it plays all the tropes straight. It’s not trying to be a new spin or reinvent the genre or break all the tropes. It’s just a gothic horror story, told exactly like what it is, by a guy who makes damn good movies. I felt like that was really brave and surprising at the time. 

The Visit: M. Night Shyamalan had basically made a joke of himself after a string of awful movies, but this movie was enough to earn back a bit of respect in my book. It’s a clever premise and a smart use of found footage. 

The VVitch: Creepy-ass slow-burn supernatural historical horror, sign me up. I actually don’t like this movie as much as a lot of people (see above: religious-themed horror doesn’t push my fear buttons much) but it’s beautifully made, thoughtful, and artistic in a way that makes people sit up and pay attention to just how good the horror genre can be. 

Krampus: This movie is extremely silly and I love it. A holiday favorite I watch every year now. It’s hilarious, and imaginative, with some really creepy visuals and a thoroughly satisfying conclusion. 

The Invitation: For me, some of my favorite horror movies are the ones where the film is uncomfortable to watch before the actual horror stuff starts up. This one has an almost unbearably tense build-up and pays off in an incredibly satisfying and creepy manner. 

2016: Horror Goes Hella Mainstream

I feel like 2016 was another year of just...lots of kind of fun unique premises tossed out like spaghetti to see what would stick. And I am here for it. 

Don’t Breathe: Home invasion gone wrong is a great trope, and this one gets extra points for having the single most disturbing sequence utilizing a turkey baster I’ve ever seen in film. 

Hush: Speaking of home invasions. This one is pretty standard fare -- homeowner fights back! -- but the deaf main character is a neat twist. 

Lights Out: It’s pretty cheesy at times and the plot sort of falls in on itself, but the opening sequence is genuinely frightening and the movie almost literally killed @comicreliefmorlock so that’s a commendation I guess? 

Train to Busan: An Asian take on the zombie survival story. It’s a really good movie (if horribly bleak) and it does such an excellent job of making you genuinely care for all of the characters. 

The Autopsy of Jane Doe: A really neat premise with some wonderful slow-build horror. The storyline kind of goes off the rails, and it asks a lot of questions it doesn’t answer, but it’s quite good regardless. 

The Forest: I was disappointed with this one -- it just failed to live up to my expectations -- but it’s decent, and it’s a good attempt at capturing the creepiness of Japan’s Suicide Forest. 

Before I Wake: This one was sad more than scary, I thought, but it fits so neatly into a certain aesthetic that I am always a sucker for -- dreams and nightmares bleeding into reality, yes please. 

Split: Say what you will, I thought Split was amazing, and James McAvoy deserves a goddamn Oscar for his performance in this movie. 

The Monster: A hidden gem that’s worth watching to see how well it delivers on its premise: two characters stuck in a car with a monster outside. It’s not amazing, but it’s neat, and sometimes it’s nice to have just a straightforward creature feature with a bit of emotional heft for good measure. 

2017: Did Somebody Say Blockbuster? 

In hindsight, they’ll probably say 2017 was the start of the horror renaissance, but we’ll all know they’re a few years too late. Still, this was another great year: 

Get Out: Funny, dark, deeply uncomfortable and with some real meat to it -- Jordan Peele knows how to make a great movie. This absolutely deserves all the awards. 

It: Not a perfect movie, but a good adaptation of a difficult-to-adapt book. The kids are great. Pennywise is menacing, but that fucking flute lady is the scariest part. 

It Comes At Night: I didn’t like this one much, but a lot of folks did so it makes the list. See above re: It Follows. 

Gerald’s Game: Everything that’s wrong with this movie (ie, the ending) is wrong in the original story, so where this movie fails it’s a matter of sticking too close to its source material. But the premise is truly, genuinely horrifying, and the degloving scene almost made me vomit. So that’s cool. 

Happy Death Day: Another horror-comedy, with a healthy dose of self-awareness. It doesn’t take itself too seriously, and that’s what allows it to be fun. 

The Babysitter: This movie is hilarious. It’s also super bloody and clever and clearly made by people who love slashers, and the affection shows. 

The Ritual: So-so in the acting and pacing, but the creature design is A+ and the concept is really neat. Seriously just watch this one for the monster, it’s super cool looking. 

I should probably mention Mother here, but I can’t speak for it as I haven’t gotten around to watching it yet. It’s a very divisive film. One of these days I’ll watch it and let you know.

2018: There’s More Where That Came From 

If 2016 was the year of filmmakers just trying stuff for the hell of it, 2018 was the year of talented filmmakers and studios realizing that, oh shit, you can make really good horror movies with mass appeal. 

A Quiet Place: I’m glad I caught this one in theaters, because it really deserves to be watched in a dark, quiet room where no one dares to make a sound. The ending left a lot to be desired, but it was a clever premise. 

Hereditary: The best horror movie of the year imo. Painfully uncomfortable - I’m not sure I could watch it again - but highly recommended. 

Apostle: Watch this one in a triple-feature with The VVitch and Hereditary. A really good period piece with a character you actually want to root for. 

Bird Box: I didn’t like this movie much, but it was hugely popular. I bought the book recently and suspect it is much better. Still, it’s worth a mention for its impact on mainstream viewers (lots of people who don’t like horror really liked this movie). I won’t budge from my initial opinion that it’s just A Quiet Place meets The Happening, though. 

What Does 2019 Hold? 

We’re only halfway through the year, so we’ve got some time to see what is coming down the pipe. Lots of things to look forward to! But some solid titles so far this year that I’d heartily recommend: 

Us: Jordan Peele is at it again. It may not be as good as Get Out  -- there’s some plot holes where the internal logic of the world is at odds with the message it’s trying to send -- but it’s thoughtful and gives plenty to chew on. And there are places where it’s just unbearably tense and creepy. 

Brightburn: I had high hopes for this movie and was not disappointed. This is a super (ha, ha) good film. 

The Wind: A Gothic on the American frontier. It accomplishes what I think It Comes At Night was supposed to do, but more effectively (for me anyway). Bonus points for being written and directed by women. Double bonus: Caitlin Gerard, the main actress, is also the lead character in Smiley. 

I have not yet watched Velvet Buzzsaw, Ma or Midsommar this year, but I really want to. I’m also looking forward to the Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark film despite having some reservations about the whole concept. 

#horror #horror movies #horror movie recommendations #movie recs #long post #gifs #horror by the decade

[wanderingspacedragon]

Rey’s Shadow

Let’s roll out the ol’ crystal ball and see if we can unfog the future for Episode IX.

This time let’s look at what we may expect for Rey and where her arc may go.

Remember this is all speculation and just for fun. If you like speculating and predicting on next Star Wars film, more is below the cut.

Rey has been a bit harder for me to nail down on what might happen for her in the next film, but after some digging and re-reading of some storytelling motifs I think I’ve got a clue on what to expect next.

So a storytelling trope that is very important in Star Wars is Facing and Integrating The Shadow or just the Shadow Archetype. It's the part of the personality that embodies everything a character doesn't like about themselves/fears about themselves. It is the things they, often subconsciously, deny about themselves and project onto others. The more the Shadow has been repressed, the more powerful it becomes. This comes from Carl Jung and his psychological theory, but we are going to use it for its story writing means. Guess who also used these theories? Joseph Campbell.

And George Lucas was heavily inspired by Joseph Campbell’s The Hero Journey. By looking into these we can see the framework of the Star Wars Saga.

Let’s take a look at past Shadow Archetypes in Star Wars. We’ll start with the OT. In this the Shadow has a personification in the form of Darth Vader. He is a powerful force user that, opposite of Luke, is angry, cold, and full of hatred. These are emotions and things that Luke tries to repress in himself because he fears them and can’t accept they are part of himself. In Empire Strikes Back, Luke has a vision in the Dark Side cave on Dagobah that spells this out and also is a bit of warning if he follows through in repressing/killing the Shadow.

The Vision has Luke facing off with Darth Vader and striking him down, only to reveal that under the mask is his own face. In Return of The Jedi, Luke is brought before the Emperor who tries to get  Luke to give into his Shadow Self and act out on those feelings, knowing that if he does kill his own father that he would fall to the Dark Side. It symbolizes that trying to kill your dark side will only make it grow larger and eventually eat you whole.

That is what happened to Anakin. In the PT era Anakin’s Shadow took in form of Darth Maul (Rage, Vengeance, and Wrath), Count Dooku (Arrogance and Self-Superiority), and General Grievous (Power-hungry and willingness to sacrifice one's own ‘humanity’ to gain power). They represented all the parts that Anakin tried to repress in himself. It's what the Jedi Order taught him to do and since these shadows were killed off instead of integrated, a larger Shadow emerged in the form of Darth Vader. What is interesting about the Prequels is the Shadow isn’t just Anakin’s, but the Jedi as a whole. This is the imbalance in the Force. The Jedi’s solution to the Sith and the Dark Side was to destroy it, not realizing that by trying to repress and erase they were just making it stronger. It is by Revenge of The Sith that all of these Shadows have been killed that the new one forms in Anakin as he is pushed to extreme decisions all cause no one wants to address the issues of detachment, obsessive love, anger, arrogance, fear, and the hunger for power. Thus a new monster is born. The Shadow will eat you if you do not accept it and properly manage it.

Now I’m going to spoil a movie here, so fair warning I’m going to talk about the movie The Babadook, a horror movie about a single mother and her child with behavioral issues. It’s more than that, but if you don’t want to be spoiled here’s your chance to skip over this part. I’m going to go over the story and how it all relates to dealing with the Shadow Self.

* * * * *

“There’s just NO WAY your OFF the HOOK

If you’re ALL GROWN UP

When you read this book.

And you snub your nose

With a civilized look…

You’ll appeal EVEN MORE

to the BIG BABADOOK.

And this is what he’ll say…

‘I’ll WAGER with YOU

I’LL MAKE you a BET

ThE MORE you DENY me

The STRONGER I GET.

You’ll then be my PUPPET, my plaything, my PET

I’ll MAKE you DO THINGS

You’ll be SURE to REGRET,”

-Limited Edition Mister Babadook pop-up book

Okay so in the Babadook the whole movie is about how this woman is not dealing with her Shadow Self and how it becomes almost a physical monster that terrorizes her and her son. Her husband was tragically killed in a car accident while driving her to the hospital while she was in labor. She does not celebrate her son’s birthday because it reminds her of her husband’s passing. She’s stuck in a job that she doesn’t want to do (she really wants to be a children’s book writer) and she has not be able to move on relationship wise. Her son and everything in her life has trapped her in this loop of the past in a way. When she reads a book called Mister Babadook, to her son before bed, everything in her life becomes worse and a monster seems to be stalking them. The book is scary and as it says in the book, “If it’s in a word, or it’s in a look. You can’t get rid of the Babadook.”

This book is an invitation and brings in the Babadook first by the paranoia of her son and then the mother starts seeing the Babadook. She keeps trying to repress her Shadow Self, which is the grief of losing her husband, the resentment she feels toward her own child, feeling trapped and angry over how her life is going. She keeps trying to deny and repress these feelings and thus trying to hid and get rid the Babadook. It gets so bad that the Babadook actually possesses her and she almost acts out the scenes in the book and nearly kills her own son. But his love for her is what finally snaps her out of it and she is able to control the Babadook. It’s never gone as the end of the movie shows. It now lives in their basement, but she addresses it and feeds it. And thus she can finally live a bit more peaceful and happier life.

“Whether adult or child, best give me a HOME.

Put the welcome mat out, with a room of my OWN.

And accept that I’m here and from YOU

I have grown

Keep me smaller in size,

I might leave you alone.”

-Limited Edition Mister Babadook pop-up book

* * * * *

You can’t kill the Shadow, but you can control and manage it. That is what integrating the Shadow means. It doesn’t mean giving into your impulses and bad feelings, but acknowledging them so you can control them. The Babadook is seriously a good movie, but it is terrifying. Psychological horror heavily relies on the darkness that resides in ourselves and what we try to deny feeling. These are some of my favorite kind of horror movies because they are the ones that last by lurking in your own psyche. Tragedies and Horror usually has the failing of integrating the Shadow thus the sad/terrifying conclusion. It’s scary even if the monster is defeated because we know that it could come back at any time.

Now to the ST era and what to expect of Rey and dealing with her Shadow. Well what is her shadow? Personified it’s obviously Kylo Ren. Kylo Ren is rage, the feeling of abandonment, self loathing, and feeling like you are the Monster.

These are things Rey fears about herself and has denied herself feeling so far. She was abandoned by her parents, but she lives in denial, hoping they will return for her one day. It’s why she keeps the hairstyle she’s had since she was little, in hopes they would recognize her. Why in The Force Awakens she keeps wanting to go back to Jakku and wait for them. If she was to move on then that would mean she would have to finally accept the truth. That she was sold off and left in indentured servitude to Unkar Plutt.

Now we have seen hints of Rage and maybe even the scary thought of a Monster in her. In The Force Awakens we see this darker side as she fought with Kylo Ren in the snow forest. She got the upper hand and had even knocked him to the ground. While on the ground she approached and seemed ready to strike at him after she already disarmed him, but the earth opened up separating them by a rift.

Wait a minute...this gif is right before the ground breaks apart preventing her from completing that swing.

ooooooohhhhh... *wink wink* Rey’s dark side showing just like Luke’s was.

In The Last Jedi, Rey seeks training from Luke. As she says “Something inside me has always been there...but now it's awake, and I'm afraid. I don't know what it is, or what to do with it, but I need help.” She’s afraid of this power. Why? She also seems to be drawn to the dark side and even spooks Luke because of her power and her willingness to explore the dark side sea cave.

This makes me speculate there is more to Rey’s past and we are going to find it out in Ep IX. And I don’t mean that her parents were anyone we actually know. I think a lot of audience aren’t getting that point. The point is they weren’t special people and they were in fact awful. Sold her off for drinking money and then left...But apparently they are dead in the Jakku desert... Which is strange cause that contradicts the vision Rey had in TFA where we see her as a child screaming  “Come Back!” to a ship that is taking off. How can both be true? Well I don’t think Kylo Ren is lying. The thing about the Shadow is that it tells the protagonist what they deny and don’t WANT to be true, but is the truth nonetheless. Remember Vader telling Luke he was his father. There were several audience members after ESB that thought Vader had to be lying because that seemed too awful for Luke. Same for Rey. It’s the Truth she has to hear but does not want to accept.

But the vision? How can both be true? Well I think we’ll find out that Rey as a child may have accidentally killed her own parents. As she said she’s had this inside her that’s always been there but only recently is now awake. What if it woke up before during a time of duress and in an attempt to bring her parents back, accidentally blowing up their ship as it was leaving.

That would both explain the Vision and what Kylo told her. It would explain why she’s afraid of this power she has and why she’s drawn to the Dark Side. The final truth she has to accept about herself and what she will have to face in the next film. This might be what brings her to that Dark Side’s edge and she’ll have to decide if she gives into it or learns to integrate with with Shadow. And remember the lesson in Star Wars, killing the Shadow only means that it will come back in either yourself or someone in your group. So if Rey actually kills Kylo Ren in Episode 9 then she may fall to the Dark side or cause a greater Shadow to emerge.

But I am 99.9% sure they are not going to have a tragedy or a horror movie for the ending of the freakin’ Skywalker Saga. Heck the fact that Vader dies in ROTJ could be the reason another Shadow emerges for the Sequel Trilogy and the purpose of this trilogy is to finally have a true integration of the the Shadow. There has to be a proper integration that gets expanded for the whole story’s universe. Balancing the Force.

So yeah I could go further into other Archetypes and who they are in the ST which would be fascinating, but this is already very long so with that it will have to be another time.

And remember…

“If it’s in a word, or it’s in a look. You can’t get rid of the Babadook.”

#star wars #reylo #rey #kylo ren #ben solo #shadow self #dark side #shadow archetype #ep ix #ep ix speculations #ep ix prediction #spoilers #babadook spoilers #babadook #horror movies #sorry for all the spooky stuff but I love horror movies #meta

[timeisacephalopod]

Ironbat

Just a little Bruce Wayne/ Tony Stark thing because I felt like it lol. (Also Fun Fact about this: Bruce and Tony accidentally end up with like 6 kids in 2 years because they keep bringing home strays though, in Tony’s slight defense, Peter still has May so he’s only half adopted). Also ignore the hella uncreative name of this D:

Natasha considers Tony for a long moment and its fucking creepy, she doesn’t even blink. It probably doesn’t help that when she first came to America she told him if anyone smiled as much as Americans in Russia she’d punch them in the face but since everyone here does it she keeps that urge to herself. Tony honestly thought smiling was polite but okay.

“What’s he like?” she asks finally.

Oh, she wants to know about Bruce of not the Banner variety. Because they all know what Banner is like. He sighs and Rhodey’s soul dies, Tony sees it, because he knows Tony well enough to know he’s going to say something stupid. “I’m going to give a description and I need you all not to laugh or judge him, okay?” Because Bruce is sweet, and generous, and yeah he’s so dramatic he makes Tony look like an unseasoned chicken breast in comparison but he’s a great guy. He shouldn’t be judged for his dramatics. They don’t judge Tony for his dramatics.

Actually Stephen told him last week that his cars were ostentatious and if Stephen is talking about Tony’s cars being ostentatious they really must be something.

“He’s a damn furry, isn’t he?” Rhodey says and Tony resents that. Mostly because he wonders if the Batman thing constitutes as being a furry but he doesn’t think so. It is, as far as he knows, just a LARPing thing and its fucking hilarious because no one knows its Bruce Wayne under that dramatic ass cape.

“No he isn’t a furry, T’Challa is a furry,” he throws out there just to make Rhodey cringe. Sam and Rhodey basically worshiped the guy only to find out the dude dresses up like a panther on the regular.

“That is a religious thing, it’s exempt,” Sam says, throwing out his shitty rationalization that they all know is fake. 

Tony rolls his eyes, “sure, bud. Anyways, Bruce. Don’t judge him okay, he’s a great guy,” he starts but Rhodey cuts him off.

“If you need to preface this with so much ‘don’t judge him’ he probably sucks,” he points out.

Pepper frowns, “we preface Tony with a lot more than this,” she says.

Tony is offended, truly. “Okay you know what, Bruce is the kind of guy who would say ‘hello darkness my old friend’ unironically and yeah that’s needlessly dramatic but we’re all needlessly dramatic here so no one should judge him for it,” he tells them all.

They all start laughing immediately like a bunch of twats. “What the hell, Stark?” Bucky asks and Tony squints at him.

“You texted everyone in our group chat ‘I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory’ when your cat stole your garlic bread. Rhodey, you drove a whole ass tank into a military bunker as a fuck you to your superiors. Stephen had that weird ‘sorcerer supreme’ phase and forced us all to call his cape a cloak. Natasha got memes banned in Russia and North Korea. Steve has told half the members of congress to fuck off to their faces and Sam made an AI he named Redwing because Bucky refused to let him get a falcon. Not a single one of you have a place to judge Bruce,” he tells them.

They all look properly shamed except Pepper, who grins. “I am not needlessly dramatic like the rest of you so I have all the right in the world to judge,” she tells them and Tony snorts.

“Oh hell no you do not. You’ve decided you hate fellow CEOs so much that you refuse to address them, only their wives. You once told Justin Hammer that you would rather drink paint thinner than spend another second with him. You punched Aldrich Killian into a pool because he made me uncomfortable. You once told a reporter that people fear you because you have the energy of a Lovecraftian monster. You are not exempt,” he tells her.

Sam laughs, “I remember the Lovecraft thing. You ended up being a lesbian meme for awhile after that,” he says.

Tony remembers that too, it had been around when the Babadook was a gay meme. Monsters were a thing that week.

“Is Bruce seriously that dramatic? I thought he mostly read to kids and whatever,” Rhodey says and yeah, he does that too. And a lot of charity work in orphanages. It’d been how they met- sometimes when Tony is sad he goes to hospitals and holds babies and Bruce happened o be donating money to that particular hospital and found him crying over a small premie that was so sweet and precious. They hit it off pretty easily but yes, Bruce is so dramatic he may give Stephen a run for his money.

“Yeah, he is one hundred percent that dramatic. You’ll find out,” he says. Granted most of Bruce’s dramatics went to his Batman character- Tony struggled not to laugh out loud when he heard Bruce unironically say ‘I am the night’ but he’s dramatic elsewhere too.

“Find out what?” Bruce asks, coming up behind them, smiling. Tony has never had a thing for classic Hollywood hot- too fifties for his tastes, but Bruce makes it feel different. Maybe its because nothing about him aside from his classic looks remind Tony of the past or maybe its something else, he doesn’t know.

“Holy Christ, are you even in there anymore?” Bucky asks, jabbing him in the side with his finger. Tony smacks his hand away after jumping a little.

“Yes, now keep your fingers away from me,” he tells him. “We were talking about you being dramatic,” he tells Bruce for reference.

Bruce’s eyebrows draw together, “I’m dramatic?” he asks. “Don’t you have a friend who insisted you called him ‘sorcerer supreme’?” he asks.

Right, Tony forgot about that too. “Yeah, Stephen got a little in character and none of us knew what the character was for but he’s mostly okay now, he’s chilled out a little. Come sit,” he says, shooing at Bucky to get out of the spot beside Tony. Bruce tries to move towards the only empty seat that is, for some damn reason, beside Sam but Tony pulls him back and continues to pester Bucky to go sit beside his damn boyfriend.

When he discovers they’re currently in the middle of an argument he’s not surprised, he’s watched the two of them get into it over Steve’s cat that died when he was ten of all things, but he’s damn annoyed to discover that this particular fight is about Sam not finding bats cute. Bruce lets out a small shiver and Tony holds onto him a little tighter, knowing about his fear of bats.

Honestly that only makes Batman that much more dramatic because Bruce fucking dresses up as his worst fear. Jesus, he really does have a talent for finding people who are so dramatic they could blend into a comic book easily. Bucky moves his ass finally and Bruce sits next to him and looks around. He pinpoints Rhodey as the most important at the table easily and Tony will never understand how he does that. It takes him ten seconds flat to find the person at the top of any food chain and he can figure out how to exploit them in another ten seconds. Its actually useful in business and Tony is surprised that Bruce’s success comes from reading people so well. But then Bruce thought he could do that too and had been surprised that Tony was just following math no one else saw. Pepper can do it now too so that’s neat, usually he can’t teach for shit.

“Tony has told me about your military career, you recently got promoted, didn’t you?” Bruce asks and Rhodey leans into it easily, going off on a tangent about his recent promotion and how he got it. Bruce smiles and listens easily, asking all the right questions because he’s freakishly good at people if they weren’t in a relationship with him. If they were, well, Alfred told Tony he has a fear of being close to people thanks to that time his parents got shot right in front of him as a kid. Tony thinks he deals with it well, or at least well enough that Alfred gives him advice and he’s seen how protective the old man is of Bruce. He’d chase Tony out of the mansion without a second thought if he thought he was a bad choice on Bruce’s behalf.

Natasha watches Bruce’s exchanges keenly because she’s as good at people as he is but when he gets to addressing her- right after congratulating Pepper on her recent multimillion dollar deal that no one else thought was a good idea but Bruce did for the exact reasons she did- he manages to find her soft spot too. “I’ve read about your rat rescue- I had no idea you could buy rescue rats but I suppose they might need it more than most. Its not like people care if rats are mistreated- people mostly want them dead,” he says.

She perks up, “and they’re very clean contrary to popular belief,” she says.

Bruce nods, “I used to have rats as a child. They’re smart as hell too, probably a little too smart for their own good actually. They were both escape artists and Alfred, my butler, was not impressed to find them in the kitchen more often than not,” he says and Natasha laughs. With that he somehow manages to win her over too despite the fact that she’s impossible to please and probably wants to punch him because he smiles.

And Bruce thought this was going to go badly.

*

Bruce is sure he’s managed to screw everything up given how utterly silent Tony has been through the whole dinner. Tony isn’t normally silent- he errs more on the side of dominating the conversation if only by accident but through this entire thing he’s said next to nothing. So by the time they leave he’s worried he’s somehow managed to say something wrong but he can’t for the life of him figure out what it is. He did his research- all of Tony’s friends are as impressive as he is in their own right and he made sure to acknowledge that- the fastest way to impress Tony was to recognize worth in others and Bruce finds it both telling and strange. 

He’s never met someone who’s so attracted to the ability to recognize talent in others but Tony has a clear... thing for it. Maybe because he recognizes potential in the strangest of ways and in odd areas too- its just part of the way his mind works- and Bruce seems to be the only one who picks up on this aspect of Tony’s personality. And the potential Tony sees. Tony thinks he’s bad at people but he isn’t, he just sees them differently and this isn’t really odd considering he sees everything differently. What Tony is bad at is finding conventional ways to relate to people and Bruce likes that about him. It makes him feel less dangerous, somehow, like maybe if he’s different this relationship will be different too. He’s never been good at relationships, Selena knows that better than most.

“How the hell do you manage to do that?” Tony asks when they leave. 

Bruce has no idea what he means and his gut twists a little, worried that he’s managed to botch this too. For the first time since... he hasn’t felt like running and he doesn’t want to do something to make it end. “Do what?” he asks.

Tony frowns, “win people over like that. I’ve never met anyone who managed to make Natasha go from suspicious to smitten like that ever,” he says.

Well, it might help him to know Natasha isn’t smitten, she’s just convinced that Bruce isn’t horrible. Its the best she’ll ever think of him most likely, she’s not the kind of person who would ever fully trust another person, but Bruce already knew that when they met. But he does at least relax because he hasn’t done something wrong, Tony is just impressed with his people skills again. Its an odd trait to hone in on, but its that, his generosity, his love of children, and his ability to disagree with Tony that draws him in. That’s probably the strangest combination Bruce has run into but he doesn’t dislike it either. Those happen to be the traits, minus his ability to manipulate people, that he finds most admirable about himself too.

“I just did my research, Tony,” he says. Its all he’s ever needed to do.

Tony smiles and leans into his side, “yeah well, was ready to write you off and now he thinks I’m lying about how dramatic you are so obviously your research paid off,” he says.

Bruce wraps an arm around Tony’s waist, “Tony he doesn’t think I’m dramatic because he doesn’t know about Batman and you’re not going to tell him. If Cobblepot finds out who I am he’ll use it against me,” he says and Tony bursts out laughing.

“I love you, but this LARPing thing is ridiculous. Endearing, but ridiculous. You do know Cobblepot works in a bank, right? He’s not nearly as impressive as The Penguin even if he sucks at names,” Tony says.

Yes, Bruce knows that already. “I’m aware of all my foes, thank you. Harley Quinn is a psychiatrist who’s real name is Harleen Quinzel and her girlfriend is Poison Ivy,” he says. Pamela a botanist and a very well known environmental activist too, Tony has read her work when considering his green energy projects, actually.

“Jesus Christ, this is so dramatic. How the hell did you get half of Gotham involved in a LARP?” Tony asks.

Well, that’s just an exaggeration. There’s certainly not that many people in the game and frankly Bruce doesn’t care if he’s winning.

#bruce wayne x tony stark #ironbat #fanfiction #alternate universe #writing

[bookenders]

11/11/11 Tag Game: Round 2!

Tagged by @dreamstormdragon! Thank you! I’ve done one of these before but these are new questions and I like rambling. 

Let’s do this. #longpostislong

Rules: Answer 11 Questions, Ask Eleven Questions, Tag Eleven People!

1. Have you ever based a story on a dream you’ve had?

Not a story, no, but a few poems! If I have a dream I want to remember, or one with someone who isn’t around anymore, I tend to wake up and immediately write it down. They always seem to come out of my head as poems. 

2. What do you do, when you hit a wall with a story?

I stare at the wall for a good long while, band my head against it a few times, then give up and go do something else. Sometimes I write poetry to get rid of the wall. Other times, I experience/watch/listen to/look at other art to kick-start my idea generator. I went to a slam poetry event last week and holy crap the idea generator was working overtime after and during that event. 

If I’m on a time crunch, I write the next sentence and delete it and rewrite it and delete it and rewrite it until it feels like I can keep going, then I go back and tweak it later. Sometimes the words need to be forced to get along on the page.

3. What kind of characters do you like to write best?

I really like writing quieter characters that have a lot going on under the surface. Most of my favorite characters are afraid to say something, or skirt around a certain topic a lot, or say something else every time they should be saying the right thing. Probably because I love puzzles. And I love subtext. 

The most challenging character for me was a storyteller dude who talked a lot and was very exaggeratey. But it was fun to figure out where his limits were.

4. What do you read, to get inspired?

I am a serial re-reader. I will grab my favorite books and skim through them to remind myself how the characters developed, find the lines that I love, and pick out all the wonderful things the writer did. It helps that I have a crazy good where-in-the-book-was-that memory. 

5. Do you listen to songs/any sounds while writing or do you need utter silence?

I listen to the same song on repeat each time I sit down and write. For my violinist story, it was a cello/violin duet of OneRepublic’s “Secrets.” I listened to it on repeat for like 6 hours. Now I guess it’s kind of my kick-starting writing song. Thanks, Pavlov.

It’s a different song every time I sit down, usually. Sometimes it’s instrumental, more often it’s not. Last time was “The Hymn of Acxiom” by Vienna Tang for 2 hours. My brain has to be able to block it out because it can’t operate without a minor distraction, I guess. I can write in silence, too, if I hit flow state.

6. What is your favorite author?

Hoo boy. Please don’t make me choose...

Rick Riordan, Lauria Halse Anderson, Neil Gaiman, Mackenzie Lee, Madeline Miller, Tim O’Brien, Rabih Alameddine, Margueritte Bennett (I have a signed Bombshells #1! Eee!), Bill Konigsberg, and Kieron Gillen, to name a few.

7. There’s a zombie apocalypse and the CDC issues that the only way to kill the zombies, is to hit them with your least favorite book. What book, do you use to kill some zombies?

Beginners by Rebecca Wolff. Had to read it for a class. The prof said we had to read bad books and good books to learn from both and I cannot believe he considered this a good book. Everyone else in class had some serious issues with it. It could kill so many zombies, though. 

8. What do you think is going to be the next big “monster trend” in modern day literature? We’ve had Vampires, werewolves and zombies, what do you think is next?

Hmmm. Well. To get nerdy for a minute, monster trends tend to reflect societal trends. Vampires (Victorian Era) were about repressed sexuality and Gothicness. Zombies are/can be a metaphor for environmental collapse/global warming/nature coming back to kill us all because we messed up. Twilight vamps were about feminine wish fulfillment and how everyone hates teenage girls (so can we please give them some respect for the love of God).

If I were to throw a guess out there for the next monster... I mean, I want more monsters from different cultures’ myths and folklore. We had a big trend in dystopian recently, since we found out we were the monsters. Next might be... I dunno, fish people? Dark Tulpa-type monsters might be cool, too. I mean, we’ve got the Babadook. 

9. Which wip of yours is the favorite child? If you only have one WIP, which character is the favorite child?

H2H, no doubt. It’s the one that’s always in the forefront of my brain. Within that story, I think Gemma is the favorite child. I just learned that she can get a little intimidating when something is keeping her from helping people and that’s not what I was expecting from her. She keeps growing and changing as I keep writing and I love it. 

Fred is pretty great, too, though. My first note for him was “He totally gardens in khakis and knee pads.” 

10. What kind of things do you like to use to get in the writing mood?

Reading up to the point where I left off writing and getting inspired by other stories and music. When I was an actor, I used to listen to playlists I made to get in character before going out on stage, and the habit carried over to my writing. 

11. Outline or no outline?

90% of the time, no outline. Recently, outline. Ugh. I don’t like outlining because it makes my brain think I’ve already written the thing and then it doesn’t actually want to write the thing. 

My Questions:

What kind of stories always get you right in the feels? What makes u cri evrytiem?

Do you keep notes around for your stories? How do you organize them? 

What’s the nerdiest trinket/swag/item you own?

What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever written?

What was your favorite story/kids book when you were little? What do you think of it now?

Do you have a “writing outfit?” 

What book (that you’ve read) would you say was your favorite to impress someone? What book would you say is your favorite to a young kid? 

How do you bookmark pages in a physical book? Dog ear? Actual bookmark? Random nearby item?

Do you reread your favorite books/stories?

Do you read literary magazines?

Do you like graphic novels/comics? Which ones? 

Bilbo Taggins: @quilloftheclouds, @therainsoakedwriter, @inexorableblob, @capricious-writes, @halohidings, @yetmorestories, @leave-her-a-tome, @bos-ingit, @writingwinterridge, @els-writes, @thewritingsofart

#writer tag #tag game #writeblr #amwriting #11/11/11 tag #about me #brainbox