#of people she loves beginning to believe the vile shit that gets spread about her

[halfyearsqueen]

one thing about her is she's very petrified of failure

#failing her children #failing her mother #failing her father #failing the people who have spent so long supporting her since she was a fourteen year old child forming her own political faction #failing her kids #of people she loves beginning to believe the vile shit that gets spread about her #like she already feels like she's failed her children because she can't even begin to remedy the scrutiny they're going to face purely by #being hers #much less the bastard allegations #i'm gonna be here after i do some more research

[wyofabdoms]

Undercover I Do - Chapter 12

Characters: Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: While on an undercover assignment posing as a married couple, you are attacked and nearly assaulted. Upon waking, all you remember about Javier Peña is what you remembering seeing from two photographs of the two of you posing as the happily married couple. As you struggle to regain your memories, Javi struggles with his own feelings for you.

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Warnings: Implied cheating, swearing, destruction of government property, Javi has road rage.

Word Count: 2077

Notes: Reeling from what you witnessed in the alley, you arrive at the office for your meeting with Dixon. And you take out some of your anger on Javi's unwitting empty office. But in the midst of your rage, you come across something interesting.

Let me know if you find any crazy mistakes. Feedback and comments greatly appreciated.

Be well!

Read on Ao3

*

The moment you set foot in the office bullpen, you know your initial bad feeling about this meeting is right. Everyone seems to be looking at you with a pained expression; as though they are all sympathetic to some plight that is still unbeknownst to you. You think maybe it’s just the memory loss and your temper flares, making you want to scream and lash out at all of them, down to the typist in the corner.

Then, Van Ness steps into your line of sight and says your name cautiously, looking at you with concern etched on his forehead.

“I’m here to meet with Dixon. She called me.” You grit your words out, willing him to just back off, not wanting him to ask you if you’re ok, knowing that if he does, you’ll start sobbing hysterically in front of all of these people in the middle of the United States DEA bullpen.

“Ah….yeah, well the Ambassador just showed up, she got caught up meeting with him. Shouldn’t take long. She wanted me to keep an eye out for you.” As he spoke, the younger man steered her towards an office and through the doorway. “You can wait in here until she’s finished, probably five, ten minutes.” Too late you realized the office you were being ushered into was Javier’s office. You thought better about throwing a fit and asking to wait somewhere else. If you did, he’d probably inquire as to why and then…well, it was probably best to just sit in your piece of trash husband’s office and wait.

He won’t be in for a while anyway, you think furiously. He’s too “preoccupied”. That thought brought the empty bottom feeling into your stomach again and was quickly replaced with boiling fury and rage at what you had witnessed. Van Ness seemed to sense your anger and quickly retreated, leaving you to pace Javi’s office angrily.

“What a piece of shit!” You growl under your breath and then proceed to call him every foul name you can think of in both English and Spanish. As you do so, you randomly kick furniture, upending a pile of cartons on an armchair and not caring one second about the headache it would cause him to reorganize it. As you pass the bookshelf, you punch a flag statue off a shelf and enjoy the satisfying crunch it made as it lands on the floor. That sound seems to drag more need to destroy. You tear the cushions up from the couch and rip them open, flailing the stuffing out of them, imagining it was your husband’s insides that you were ripping to pieces, as well as that “informant”! You grab a framed medal off the wall behind the couch, smashing the glass over the coffee table and marching over to his desk, ripping the medal out of its cushioned velvet bed and taking the sharp, pointed edge of the bottom of it to the back of his desk chair.

The tearing sound as the material was ripped open fills up the room like a freight train and gives you an extreme sense of satisfaction. You jab the sharp end of your makeshift weapon into the glossy, smooth surface of the desk and grit your teeth as you put all of your anger and weight into cutting a jagged line from one side of the desk to the other, knocking files that were spread out haphazardly on the floor. Your rage completely overtook you and you began to gouge all of the foul names you had previously been calling him into the surface of the desk until your hand began to ache from pressing so hard. The pain only makes you angrier and you fling the medal across the office, knocking a lamp off of the end table. The clatter and sound of the bulb smashing give you some momentary peace, but then the memory of that woman’s hand moving inside his pants resurfaces again, causing you to redouble your efforts and proceed in destroying every visible inch of his office.

How dare he? How...dare...he? How dare YOU, thinking anything less from the man that was your husband. A leopard doesn’t change its spots...what had you been thinking? WHAT could possibly have EVER made you agree to marry such a vile, disgusting slime ball of a man? You had begged him...BEGGED HIM...to fuck you only an hour before you found him in a shkeezy back alley with a cheap whore. Fuck him! If he would rather have his whores than you, then so be it. He could keep them. How long had he still been “working leads” after you’d gotten married? Did everyone outside in that bullpen know? How many of them still tittered over the water cooler about how many times Agent Peña visited the brothels in the city...how many of THEM out there had he fooled around with, too? Why stop at whores? How could he have convinced you so well. Convinced you to marry him, but then, all this time, convinced you to keep begging him, to keep trying to be with him. You had asked...you had asked him to his face if there was someone else. He had denied it and you had believed him. What a fool you’d been. No, there wasn’t someONE else. There was probably NUMEROUS others.

As suddenly as your rage had come upon you, it is just as suddenly replaced by an overwhelming sense of sadness; you feel your legs give out and you collapse to the floor amidst the upended furniture, crumpled balls of paper, broken glass and strewn file folders. Staring at the destruction around you for a moment, you feel the knife of betrayal prick your insides and your heart shatters to pieces.

You bury your face in your hands and begin to sob. After several minutes you draw a watery breath, then shake your head. Dixon was going to be out of her meeting any minute. She was going to find you in here sobbing hysterically amidst all of this.

Oh god! You look around at the mess you’ve made in Javi’s office. The sudden thought enters your mind that you’ve just successfully demolished a significant amount of government property. You frantically start collecting crumpled paper and straightening file folders within reach, trying to return the room to some semblance of order as quickly as possible.

As you reach for one particular folder, you catch sight of half a photograph sticking out that seems familiar. Your hand stops in mid-air.

It’s your wedding photo with Javi.

The same one that’s framed in your apartment. Your hand shakes as you reach for the photo, tears starting to stream from your eyes again at the sight of the now familiar photo. You both looked so happy, so in love with each other. What had happened? How could he be such a good liar?

You cry as you clutch the photo to your chest. Your marriage was over. A marriage that you hadn’t even really gotten a chance to be a part of because most of it was lost to the clouds of your missing memory. And though you didn’t want to admit it...as much as you wanted to hate him, you knew that deep down you were mostly sad because you loved Javier. And he had betrayed you. Had lied to you. But you loved him despite that. And now, knowing what you knew, you couldn’t stay married to him.

And that broke your heart.

You heaved another huge sigh and moved to place the photo back where you had found it….

...and paused again.

What was your wedding photo doing in a DEA case file folder?

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Javier didn’t think he had ever driven so fast in his life. Even though he had made a valiant effort at breaking every single driving law in Columbia, it still seemed like an eternity before he braked in front of the DEA building. Today the universe had not been on his side. Despite driving as fast as he could, he seemed to hit nothing but red lights and streets full of bumper to bumper traffic. Crosswalks seemed to be more full than normal with mothers and baby carriages and kids on their way to school. Even when he had tried to take the few shortcuts he knew, he had stalled, running into construction or a blocked roadway where there had once been open passage.

In the end, it had taken him twice as long to get to work then it normally would have. He was furious when he arrived. Furious as himself mostly, but also willing to dole out a fair share to the traffic lights, pedestrians, sidewalk vendors and whoever tried to get in his way before he found out where his partner was.

He was certain she had seen them. He just knew it, deep in his gut. And he knew that he had to find her. To see her. To talk to her. He needed to talk to her before Dixon broke the news to her about her being sent home. He needed to hold her. To tell her….

Would he have the balls to actually tell her what he needed to tell her?

Thinking about that only served to remind him of what a coward he was. He knew he wouldn’t be able to tell her how he really felt. He hadn’t even been able to….SHOW her how he felt. He hadn’t been able to fuck her when she had begged him, when she had willingly offered herself to him on multiple occasions.

He wanted to throw up thinking about it. Thinking about saying those words to her. Thinking about how she was going to be sent home, that by tonight she wouldn’t be in his life anymore, that he was never going to know how it felt to hold her in his arms and whisper those words in her ear, wasn’t going to know how it felt to be inside of her, to know how she sounded and looked when she came undone from pleasure.

Yeah, he was a real fucking coward.

When he stormed into the bullpen, he knew something was wrong. Van Ness and Feistl both stood a short distance from his office, arms folded, heads cocked towards the closed door as though trying to detect any sound. They both had stricken looks on their faces, a mixture of fear and bewilderment, and neither man seemed quite sure what to do with themselves when Javier entered. One look at them and then a look at the closed office door told him that things had already started happening. His heart sank.

“Dixon?” He asked, nodding towards his office. Van Ness started, then stood up straight, shaking his head.

“No. She’s still in a meeting. She wanted me to have her wait in...” Without waiting for any further information, Javi plowed his way past them and wrenched open the door to his office.

He stopped short, eyes widening at the scene in front of him.

It looked like a bomb had exploded in his office. Furniture was upturned, pictures were smashed and hanging askew, file folders were thrown everywhere, the floor was covered in ripped and crumpled paper and...some kind of fluff...what was that? The couch cushions? He saw them ripped to shreds and thrown randomly around the room. Items had been smashed off the bookshelves and lamps were cracked and broken to pieces, leaving large chunks of glass strewn about the floor.

And there she sat in the midst of the chaos.

Her shoulders were hunched over. A file folder was open in her lap and she had clearly been reading several pages of the report found within. Your staged wedding photo was in one hand as she turned the pages of the report with the other. He could only stare at her and at the destruction surrounding her...and then it slowly dawned on him what she was reading.

At almost the exact same moment that he had the realization, she lifted her head from the file and looked up at him.

His heart broke.

Her face was red from crying, tear tracks staining her face, confusion and a thousand questions filling her eyes. Her voice was shaking and wobbly and sounded like a child’s: scared, lost...terrified of the truth.

“Javi?”

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8,  Chapter 9, Chapter 10,  Chapter 11, Chapter 13

#javier peña x reader #javier peña x female reader #narcos #narcos fanfic #javi #undercover marriage #undercover married trope #pedro pascal fanfiction

[anhed-nia]

BLOGTOBER 10/4/2020: SOCIETY

Without having a survey to back me up, I feel comfortable asserting that as a horror fan, you go through different phases with SOCIETY. It’s a basic fact of life, and yet it morphs and mutates underneath you, shocking you anew just when you think you’ve got a grip on it. You never forget your first time, because there is simply nothing like it. Then, after you get over the initial shock of its patented brand of body horror, you start to take it for granted; it's so broad and monolithic that it becomes something like the Grand Canyon--when it’s not right there in front of you, you begin to experience it more iconically, as part of the wallpaper of existence, rather than an in-your-face confrontation with the limits of experience. Then, you revisit it every few years (or months, depending on what sort of person you are), and the prophylactic layer that your brain has wrapped around your memories of it--the one that allows you to think of SOCIETY as a fun, wacky cheap thrill--begins to crumble, and you realize all over again how iconoclastically vile it is. Wherever you happen to be at, with this inimitable genre landmark, you'd be hard pressed to deny that it earns its royal status among horror movies, just for being so uniquely fucked up.

Filmmaker Brian Yuzna is best known as the co-creator of the indispensable RE-ANIMATOR (or as the co-writer of HONEY, I SHRUNK THE KIDS...depending on what sort of person you are, again), itself a milestone achievement in the blending of sex and gore that so characterized '80s horror production. That film clearly brought out the best in Yuzna and frequent collaborator Stuart Gordon (also of HONEY, I SHRUNK THE KIDS fame...among other things), but it's interesting to see how they operate apart, to understand the unique ingredients that each filmmaker brought to the more perfect union of their classic Lovecraft adaptation. Gordon skewed darker and more intellectual, as evidenced by the end of his career with the shattering mob thriller KING OF THE ANTS, the disturbing true crime drama STUCK, and the Mamet-penned EDMOND. Yuzna, for his part, is almost anti-intellectual, preferring to cook up blackly comic, semi-pornographic nightmares like his two increasingly horny RE-ANIMATOR sequels, the terminal S&M fantasy RETURN OF THE LIVING DEAD 3, and the shamelessly hokey comic book adaptation FAUST: LOVE OF THE DAMNED. Yuzna's lack of shame is really his defining feature as an artist, and nowhere is this more obvious than in his directorial debut and signature masterpiece, SOCIETY.

Salvador Dali's "The Great Masturbator," a chief visual inspiration for SOCIETY.

Yuzna was able to leverage the success of RE-ANIMATOR to lock in two directorial opportunities, BRIDE OF RE-ANIMATOR, and a bizarre body horror exercise about a Beverly Hills orphan who discovers that not only are his adoptive family from a different bloodline, but they're not even from the same species. That both pictures employed the writing team of Woody Keith and Rick Fry gives you a little taste of what to expect from SOCIETY, but to be frank, the latter threatens to make the former look like a very special episode of ER; "overkill" barely begins to describe SOCIETY’s ambitious assault on the human body. In a recent interview, the philipino-american director giggles perversely, "I think my friends were a little embarrassed for me (when they saw SOCIETY)," and this sound bite reminded me that the last, most important ingredient that Yuzna contributes to any project is unabashed joy. It's a little hard to imagine stomaching SOCIETY without it.

In this unusual scene from the class struggle in Beverly Hills, Billy Warlock (son of HALLOWEEN 2's Michael Myers, Dick Warlock) plays Bill Whitney, a rich, handsome, athletic high school student with a heavy duty anxiety disorder. Although he appears to have it all, he is plagued by nightmares and hallucinations, reflecting suspicions that the family that spoils him is also out to get him. Perhaps this is all understandable, though. Bill is under a lot of pressure these days, with his parents devoting all of their attention to his sister's coming out party, and his narcissistic girlfriend pushing him to ingratiate himself to the assholes higher up the social ladder; it's enough to make any teenager feel alienated and insecure. But, do these garden variety anxieties account for his visions of his sister's body deforming itself unnaturally, or the dubious evidence he finds that her debutante ball involves incestuous orgies and human sacrifice? Is Bill simply crumbling under the strain of societal expectations, or is the friction with his shrink, his parents, and his peers all symptomatic of an elaborate plot against him by elites who are truly less than human?

I can’t believe they use this cheapo blanket trick MORE THAN ONCE in a movie that is famous for its unforgettable special effects, and I guess I kind of love it.

In case I haven't made the answer abundantly obvious, I'll add that while SOCIETY is the purest expression of Yuzna-ness on the market, it has an important co-author in Screaming Mad George. The eccentric japanese FX master, whose name is apparently an amalgamation of Mad Magazine, Screamin' Jay Hawkins, and...George, has produced some of horror's most outrageous makeup and visual effects, mostly for Yuzna, many of them in SOCIETY. If you've seen even a trailer for Alex Winter's 1993 oddity FREAKED--which is itself a grossout criticism of American social standards--then you are already familiar with SMG's trademark style. He specializes in twisted perversions of the human form that would make a cenobite blush, driven by a penchant for puns, and influenced equally by THE THING's Rob Botin, and Big Daddy Roth’s Rat Fink style. Screaming Mad George is instrumental in articulating Yuzna's premise: that behind the shimmering veneer of success and sophistication, the upper class are just a bunch of degenerates, who literally degenerate into something unimaginable behind closed doors. It's impossible to imagine SOCIETY without his sinuous, slithering monstrosities, or his indescribable realization of their most important social event, "the shunt".

One of many great images from a zine I wish I owned, on SMG’s Facebook page.

It's easy to get overwhelmed by SOCIETY's visual impact, but its message is just as potent now as it was at the end of the Reagan era: Rich people are not only different from the rest of us, but in fact, they aren't even human. Writers Keith and Fry make an interesting choice of hero to help put this across. A lazier writer would have selected any archetype from the Freaks and Geeks set to create an easy Us vs Them tension, but SOCIETY is led by a promising young man who, for reasons he himself does not yet understand, is just not "the right kind of people". Bill appears to have every advantage in life, including a level of popularity that wins him presidency of the debate team despite his nerdier rival’s superior prowess--and yet, he suffers from a stigmatizing psychiatric disorder that is the natural result of feeling indefinably different from one's peers, and intuiting that, as a consequence, they don't even really like you. The shallow jock with deep-seated emotional problems is a much more interesting protagonist for this kind of social allegory than the charismatic outcasts that you get in movies like THE FACULTY and DISTURBING BEHAVIOR, for whom the idea that the elites could be aliens is just de rigueur.

It's worth noting that this complexity of character extends to Bill's love interest, sympathetic society girl Clarissa Carlyn (Playboy Playmate Devin DeVasquez). At first, she seems villainously eager to introduce Bill to the many splendors of "the shunting", but as the plot against him mounts to its horrifying conclusion, she defects. There appears to be a reason for this, although honestly, this is the most difficult part of SOCIETY for me to wrap my head around. Clarissa lives as an essentially independent adult, only burdened by her mother (Pamela Matheson), a possibly brain damaged hulk who lurks in and out of various scenes just to be disturbing, always announced by some toots on a tuba, before eventually siding with our heroes. I'm really not sure what's supposed to be going on in this part of the movie, except that this character contributes to a number of distasteful jokes. But, I hold on to the idea that by virtue of whatever disorder Mrs. Carlyn suffers from, she serves the purpose of priming Clarissa to rebel, since her very existence makes her daughter something of a societal outcast herself. That's the best I can do.

In any case, everyone working on SOCIETY commits completely, with Mrs. Carlyn being no exception. The movie's climactic orgy of the damned is an all hands on deck operation, just as reliant on Screaming Mad George's artistic abilities as it is on the actors' responsibility to make you believe that this fucked up shit is really happening. There's a visceral patina of sleaze spread over the entire film, dripping from the way that characters talk to and touch each other, flirting and flaunting their bodies in a distinctly unseemly fashion, even when it stays within the realm of mundane reality. This constant sinister, insinuating attitude on the part of the whole cast lays the foundation for what is to come, and while I appreciate everybody's hard work, my favorite performance is from an actor who only comes in at the very end: David Wiley as society king Judge Carter. Wiley's career consisted almost exclusively of the most ordinary sort of television work, which makes his outrageous turn in this alien porno flick all the more respectable. While other characters transition from suspicious pod people to full-on mutated perverts, Judge Carter has to show up just for the finale, establish his authority, rip off his clothes, and plunge straight into a sea of slime, happily fisting his way through the cast. Wiley meets this challenge with aplomb, making of himself a hybrid of Robert Englund and Gene Hackman, perfectly embodying the movie's joyful absurdity, and never betraying the slightest hint of embarrassment. 

SOCIETY is very much a don't-look-down type of endeavor, a fairy that could expire at the slightest lapse in faith. There's a visual pun in the last act that's so gross, so offensive, so frankly idiotic, that I don't have the courage to describe it; my whole body tenses up when I know this scene is coming, as if it were the meat hook scene in TEXAS CHAIN SAW MASSACRE or the brutal rape in the middle of SHOWGIRLS. I don't like it, but at the same time, I respect Yuzna's unhesitating commitment to show it to me, and I think that actor Charles Lucia should get some kind of award for shouldering the burden so valiantly. SOCIETY is a daring movie in the truest sense, a film with more balls than brains, and in this it exposes the limitation of intelligence and taste, and the real need for pure transgression, in producing art of any real value. You might argue with me about whether Yuzna's masturbatory magnum opus really qualifies as art, but to respond to that, I'll quote the great transgressor Alejandro Jodorowsky: "If you are great, EL TOPO is a great picture. If you are limited, EL TOPO is limited." So stick that in your shunt and smoke it.

PS Here, have this stuck in your head for the rest of your life.

#blogtober #2020 #society #brian yuzna #screaming mad george #woody keith #rick fry #billy warlock #Keith Walley #devin devasquez #david wiley #horror #black comedy #satire #body horror #social criticism

[mwolf0epsilon]

Sammy and Norman. One of them gets drafted? The goodbyes, the worry, maybe never get to see the other again ?

Summary: The battlefield took his arm and a finger, and maybe a little bit of his sanity, but that studio took much more from everyone else. It took their mind, soul and body.

---

Dread had been a creeping stalker from the moment he'd witnessed many of his neighbors being called upon to help in the war efforts. It had followed Sammy around like a wolf in the shadows, making him fret for what he considered an inevitability of sorts. As the man of a household it only made sense that he'd be singled out as another viable soldier despite being the least capable sort to be found in a war.

A man of the arts, with careful and gentle fingers. Cannon fodder at best.

It was a harrowing feeling, because it truly made him fear for what may happen to his dear little sister without him around.

So really, one should be more sympathetic when his turn did come up and his only reaction was to fall to his knees in despair.

He had two days to make preparations. Then he'd be sent out with the rest of the sheep to the slaughter.

-

"You're leaving?!" Joey Drew, as slow as he was to move about without that silly looking cane of his, was much too fast getting to his feet for Sammy's liking. He shot up from his seat like a serpent ready to strike at any moment.

The safety of a desk between a scared mouse and a vile snake was a comfort.

"I don't have a choice in the matter." The blond kept his composure despite knowing quite well what Joey was more than capable of doing if he felt like he'd been crossed. He'd rather be scorned by the devil than be labeled a traitor to his country.

One of these outcomes had a 50% chance of survival. "I've been drafted. In two days I'll be sent off to die in a nonsensical war."

"But your obligations to the studio! We need you here to put a tune to the cartoons!"

"My obligations?! Joey, I've been drafted. I can't kindly decline!" Sammy exclaimed in disbelief. "It's not like picking what you want to eat at lunch. If I try to skirt around this I'll be as good as dead."

"If you go you'll most certainly be dead, and then who's going to compose for the studio?!" Joey's tone had a hint of accusation, as if Sammy wanted this to happen. Might as well blame him for the war while he was at it.

"It's a fucking cartoon, Joey! My life is worth more than your stupid pictures!" His blood was beginning to boil. "I'm leaving and that's that. I'm dropping off the rest of my scores so Jack can finish them up, and I'm conducting the band one last time today. But tomorrow I ain't coming in because I'm helping my sister move out."

"You can't do this to me! How am I supposed to find a composer on such short notice?!" Joey slammed his hands on the table. From the looks of it, he was seething.

"Figure it out. You're the boss aren't you?!" Sammy turned away from the shaking Joey and walked out of his office. He felt strangely lighter on his feet. For once, arguing with his employer didn't make him feel vulnerable.

It was great, despite the circumstances.

-

"I can't believe you're going to war... Sammy that's..." Jack's reaction to the news was a tearful one. It was quite sobering after getting a little giddy from getting under Joey's skin with no real consequences. "I'm gonna miss you."

"Aww... I'll miss you too, you big softy." The blond gave the shorter and pudgier man a pat on the shoulder, allowing him to squeeze his midsection in a tight hug. "You're going to be the man of the house now. Don't let the band trample over you... Those savages can sniff out weakness like a pack of hungry hyenas."

"They're not that bad. You're just easy to rile up, is all." Jack teased, laughing when Sammy gave him a pointed look.

"You know as well as I do that Joey will go after the head of a department if the lackeys slack off." He ignored the few glares he got from said 'lackeys'. "And this bunch gets what it deserves for being a bunch of children on the job."

"Can you leave sooner?!"

"Fuck you too Johnny! I hope your pipe organ falls on you!"

Jack cackled, which got a few other band members to crack up as well. Sammy too found himself smiling. Despite the frustration of leading this group of hellions through a carefully composed song, he'd miss the few occasionally humorous banters and mishaps.

He'd especially miss his good friend and pal. He could only hope the stress wouldn't get to Jack while he was away.

-

People either gave him knowing pitiful looks, complimented his bravery in confronting Joey over his leaving on such short notice, or gave him a vague 'nice working with you, good luck' sort of gesture.

Word had spread through the departments and Sammy felt genuinely impressed at how quickly people went from detesting his presence to sucking up just to save face. No one wanted to be that one guy who was a dick to a soon to be dead patriot.

Susie absolutely smothered him with tearful kisses and tight hugs. She was a mess and, in return, he felt a mess as well.

He didn't want to leave...

"I'll see you off tomorrow." She whispered in his ear during a particularly long hug in the recording booth. "For good luck."

"Thank you doll..." He held on to her for as long as he could. "I'm going to miss this."

"Getting cried on?"

"Just being with you. You make my world so much brighter..."

"Sammy Lawrence you're such a sap, I love you." Susie giggles into his chest.

"Love you too Susiebell."

They'd parted ways, Sammy to collect his belongings and Susie to freshen up in one of the women's bathrooms.

On the way he encountered Norman while passing by the stairs that lead to his booth.

"Who'd have thought..."

"Hm?" He looked up at the projectionist who was staring down from his vantage point. Norman backed off and went for the stairs, meeting him halfway.

"My pa was military. He did things a particular sorta way." Norman explained "Includin' raising his kids in a rather peculiar fashion."

"That would explain your... Eccentricity." Sammy rolled his eyes, which got a laugh out of the older man.

"N'aw. I'm just the weird one... My siblings are pretty normal folk." He chuckled "But I digress. Thing is, my pa would wake us up at 5 in the morning, to do drills with us. 'Case of emergency he always did say... There's a war out there now and yous would think they'd call on me to help."

"Haven't they?" Sammy frowned.

"No." Norman's smile gradually faded. "My eye. It ain't no good, so they decided to call on my little brother instead..."

"....Shit."

"Uh-huh. Was lookin' for ya to tell ya. Your sister can still move in. Nelson's just gonna be the head o' the house instead."

"What about income? Who'll pay the rent and bills?" He felt uneasy about the situation. "They're still too young."

"I'll help with expenses ta best I can, but my little niece and nephew is looking for work. I'd advise your sister do ta same. Times gonna get rough Sammy."

"They are... Thanks Norman." The blond worried his bottom lip. "For helping."

"Well I'll be... Sammy Lawrence thankin' me for being a decent fella. What a day."

"Fuck you."

"You offerin' dinner first?"

"GOD!" He threw up his hands in defeat, which got a good hearty laugh out of the projectionist. "I'll be around your brother's tomorrow then. Good luck with Drew. I got a feeling he'll be extra surly in my absence."

"Can't imagine why. Poor Grant will go nuts if he hires an entire orchestra's worth o' folks to substitute yous."

The music director laughed and went back to what he'd been set to do. It felt nice to hear that he was worth an entire orchestra in someone's eyes.

He hoped Norman wouldn't have a hard time.

-

Saying goodbye to his sister felt like a death march in its own right. He spent the entire day helping her move her belongings to the younger Polks's house. Her two friends were good help, and they even offered him tea and told him to rest whenever he got winded.

The boy, Nelson, warned him that he'd need to train his resistance if he wanted to survive the military drills. The family cat was much more sympathetic, seeming less worried about his physical capacity and more content with having a warm lap to sit on and a set of dexterous fingers to give it some good scratches.

When they'd finished, Sammy had taken his sister out to lunch. They'd run around town just having fun, something he'd rarely been able to do while working at the studio.

Then came the time to go.

To his surprise the train station was packed with a few studio workers.

Susie, Norman, Jack, Wally, Emma, Shawn, Grant and even a few of the band members had come to see him off.

He wasn't ashamed to admit he cried like a baby getting to say goodbye all over again. It felt good to be cared about, even if he wasn't the easiest person to be around of. The only other person that cried just as hard was his poor sister.

"Please come back, I can't lose my grumpy brother." The pleading broke his heart. He couldn't promise he'd come back which was what made this so upsetting.

"I'm not grumpy, just misunderstood." He retorted playfully in between hiccups.

"You're a grumpy butt, grumpiest goof there ever was." A tearful chuckle. His little Abby was flushed and covered in snot and tears. They were both very gross criers.

"Slander! I'm a misunderstood suffering artist." They pulled away and Sammy made sure to take a handkerchief from his pocket and begin trying to clean his sister's face. "Be good to your little friends. I'll try to write to you as much as I can..."

"I will... Please be careful Samuel." She pulled that old doll he'd given her and handed it over to him. Seamus had seen better days, well loved that he was. "Both of you have to come back."

He took her doll and smiled a sincere but rather sad smile.

"I'll do my best Abigail."

His best was not enough, but damn if he wasn't a stubborn son of a bitch. He'd return with her doll, even if he had to drag himself all the way back.

-

Henry gave him a sympathetic look as both descended the lift with Boris looking at them uneasily. They'd pleased Alice enough that they'd gotten the tommy gun from her to complete the last task on her list of demands.

Sammy glanced at the cartoonist with a sad and tired expression. His prosthetic pinkie tapping against his ruined prosthetic arm.

It had already been clunky enough. After a few hits from a Piper, it had become virtually useless other than as a makeshift instrument.

"Are you ready?" Henry asked.

"No... But I never am for this part."

The lift stopped on level 14, and Sammy walked forward. Stamping his feet and kicking up as much ink as possible.

The shrill screech of the Projectionist filled the room as the twisted horror that Norman Polk had become ran forward to evicerate whomever dared intrude upon its domain.

Henry shot it down effortlessly and left Sammy to kneel beside the fallen beast.

The blond sighed sadly, staring at the dying creature with pity, before gently brushing it's back. He could hear Henry moving around, collecting the hearts.

"Shhh... Hush now." He continued to comfort what had once been a friend, feeling the burning gaze of Alice upon him. Judging him. "Sheep, sheep, sheep, It's time for sleep. Rest your head. It's time for bed. In the morning, you may wake. Or in the morning, you'll be dead..."

If it appreciated not being alone as it died, the Projectionist didn't give any indication. But the gentle pawing at his leg made Sammy hopeful that something of Norman remained to thank him before the poor creature went limp for good.

It would reform with no memory of his kindness, but it made his soul feel less heavy with guilt.

"Such a pity." Alice taunted from above. "If only you'd cared and stayed... Maybe less of us would have suffered so greatly."

"I doubt that Susiebell." He replied, uncaring if he would end up enraging her for denying her new identity. "I doubt that..."

The battlefield took his arm and a finger, and maybe a little bit of his sanity, but that studio took much more from everyone else. It took their mind, soul and body.

What was left made Sammy feel hopeless.

#Eps Writes: #Bendy and the Ink Machine #BATIM #Sammy Lawrence

[thecloserkin]

fic rec: Dante’s Stars by Pretani

fandom: A Series of Unfortunate Events

pairing: Violet Baudelaire/Klaus Baudelaire

word count: 94k, complete

Is it canon: Yes

Is it explicit: Yes

Is it endgame: Yes

Is it shippable: I’m fucking crying it’s so beautiful

Bottom line: The one and only Violet/Klaus epic, read it and bawl your eyes out (def read the warnings first tho)

It’s a canon-divergence AU where the Baudelaires stage their own deaths to escape Count Olaf. In canon the three Baudelaire orphans—inventor Violet, bookworm Klaus, and baby Sunny—are hounded from guardian to guardian by cartoonish villain Olaf, who will stop at nothing to get his hands on their fortune. Olaf murders or incapacitates every single adult who spares two seconds of sympathy for these kids, leaving a wide swathe of destruction in his wake. In this fic the Baudelaires have decided to wipe the slate clean and assume new identities.

I have mentioned in the past how salty I am about the Baudelaires’ characters being sidelined for Snicket the narrator, Olaf the villain, and/or sundry other bit-players (in the Netflix show the Henchperson of Indeterminate Gender p much steals every scene they’re in). In canon we’re not really privy to the kids’ inner lives. This fic avoids that pitfall by sticking with tightly focused third-person Violet and Klaus POVs.

The thing this fic does really well is instill a pervasive sense of dread/paranoia which is remarkable because for the first 25% absolutely nothing ominous happens. The orphans get taken in by a slightly addled, very nice old lady and they just … live in her house. For free. While she cooks for them. And every morning Violet and Klaus hook up in her barn.

Ok back up so the ship they’re passengers on goes down in a storm, all hands lost, the Baudelaires are presumed drowned with the rest. Which is positively providential. The first event of any import to occur is that Klaus swipes some cash from a dead man’s wallet. Violet has ethical qualms but Klaus quashes them by pointing out that Sunny’s starving:

”I’d do anything for her,” he said. “Even become a thief or a murderer.”

Then his dark eyes found Violet’s. “I’d do it for you, too.”

So on the one hand I think this is rather extra. I mean, what possible use could a dead man have had for that money? Money that could put actual food in Sunny’s stomach. The Baudelaires are keenly aware that justice does not equal unquestioning obedience to authority and I think their exposure to a raft of tyrannical and unjust authority figures has hammered that home. They’re down with bending the rules because they know the rules are never even-handedly applied anyway (ie. the show trial at Hotel Denouement, the farcical final exam at Prufrock Academy). On the other hand I remember how uneasy they felt about stealing Hal’s keys in Hostile Hospital, and that was barely a misdemeanor! A friend of mine astutely pointed out how Violet is always trying to behave in any given situation the way their parents would have wished, whereas Klaus takes a pragmatic approach: do whatever keeps his sisters safe. And that is a very interesting contrast and one I want to see explored further.

They get on a train. Things that happen: Klaus notices when Violet is down in the dumps or angry or upset or in this case, wistfully jealous of other people who lead “normal” lives, bustling all around them. He’s not in love with her yet but noticing is the first step. Violet atm is super focused on being the elder sister, the adult in the room, the One In Charge. They get off the train and as soon as they blow into town Violet gets catcalled and propositioned. One of the themes of this fic is the horrendous baseline level of violence against women, some of it normalized and casual like the catcalling. The Big Bad Villain of the piece is literally a guy who’s murdered multiple girlfriends on account of them fridging his ass, since he appears to think that women owe him sex. And this man’s driving ambition is to add Violet to his list of conquests.

So often, men treated her as little more than an object … Klaus was different. He saw her, the woman she was inside.

HOW COULD SHE NOT FALL FOR HIM?? Is there another man she could learn to trust enough to fall in love with? However I’m getting ahead of the story. Klaus is still in the phase where he’s awakening to his attraction to Violet:

She was mother and sister, soft skin and tender strength, and he hid his face in her neck. Like a child, she rocked him gently, cradling his head.

I have to protect her, even if it’s from myself.

He couldn’t take this, his brave, beautiful sister, so near … the knowledge of what those men wanted to do to her. I”ll kill them … And what he wanted …

God but it kills me, Klaus thinking that his attraction to Violet is as noxious as those vile men and their rapacious stares. Klaus himself otoh is president of the Violet Baudelaire Fan Club. The contrast could not be more marked. Look at him building her up when she’s about ready to to give up on picking a lock because she’s lost her hair ribbon:

”I’m done, Klaus. I don’t have anything else to give”. ”Vi … “ he was pleading, willing her to believe in herself again, because he did. “You’re a brilliant inventor,” he told her. “It’s who you are. Nothing can take that away. You don’t need your ribbon.”

The unwarranted parallel that he draws between himself and a bunch of sexual predators is the source of so much angst and pining:

Is that what I am? A pervert?

She’ll blame herself for this

Well, well, well, if it isn’t ye olde I’m-Leaving-Her-For-Her-Own-Good-Lest-My-Perverted-Attraction-To-Her-Despoil-Her-Innocence. I am absolute trash for it every time, film at 11.

”I love you, Vi … I’m in love with you.” He said it like he was confessing to a crime, and she wanted to scream, to laugh and cry all at once.

THEIR LOVE IS A CRIME!!! Could these babies be more pure??

They’d always had an extraordinary connection. It was the reason for their seamless partnership, their ability to support one another … But now, the bond that had kept them alive was killing him. How could anything ever be right again?

”Vi, I’m sorry … I want to be your brother, but I can’t … I want to be more than that … I don’t know what to do.” ”Kiss me,” she said, “and be both.”

THATS IT THATS A WRAP I CAN NOW DIE HAPPY. That “kiss me and be both” is PERFECTION.

And she knew she’d never willingly give herself to anyone but him.

she’d loved him even then. Who could tell when they had crossed the line? It was already too late.

cross the line what line??? they were made for each other.

”You know, we missed the sunrise,” he said, nose to nose with his sister.

Violet and Klaus carve an extra hour out of their morning to go make out in the barn. I shit you not these kids spend a whole month without progressing past first base because Klaus doesn’t want to “pressure” Violet into anything she’s not ready for. Violet, for her part, is beginning to suspect there’s something wrong with her person; why hasn’t he even tried to take her top off? Thank you #Patriarchy for teaching us that desirability is the measure of a woman’s worth. God they are so thirsty. This bitch almost fell over the first time he touched her tits:

“Vi,” he spoke into her hair, voice breaking. “Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me to —“ But she only titled her head, to meet his mouth in a feverish kiss.

So Klaus and Sunny are having a snow fight and Violet tugs her glove off to tousle his hair and it’s THE SEXIEST THING I’VE EVER SEEN BYE. True story after I read this fic I legitimately thought that “Vi” was a pet name Klaus called her by in canon, and when I finally finished the books much much later and realized that it wasn’t—well, it should have been.

There is a fairy tale about a princess who disguises herself in the skin of a donkey to escape the attentions of her lecherous father the king. Violet and Sunny discuss it. Violet points out that rape is wrong because rape is rape, because it is coercive, not because it’s incest. I love it when fic highlights the fairytale parallels to the Baudelaires’ situation, and I feel like Donkeyskin was such a spot-on choice because it’s all about surviving sexual assault and learning to make oneself vulnerable again afterwards? Klaus is the prince who sees through her disguise and falls head over heels in love with her CHANGE MY MIND. On the subject of happily ever after:

”Is that what you think I want? A fairytale? A walk down the aisle in a white dress?" He felt a lump forming in his throat. "Most girls think about those things, don't they?" "I don't," she told him. "I prefer not to. And as for children…well…I love them. That's why I don't want any of my own … how selfish would I be, to bring another little life into this? Another hostage they could use against us. Imagine how awful it would be if…" She shook her head. "No children… not ever. I couldn't protect them." And she turned to him with a soft look. "It's no sacrifice, Klaus. Not for me. I've already been through a… a wedding, you know." He felt her shudder, and she averted her eyes. "I won't be sorry if I never see another wedding dress again."

My dudes, when you have children each and every one of them is a hostage to fortune because of course they are. Also, Violet’s traumatized by the whole idea of being a bride, after going through the wringer of her fake wedding to Olaf. Olaf put Sunny in a cage to compel her compliance, and that’s what the Big Bad in this fic does too. He says things like “You’re a sick little bitch, aren’t you? Spreading your legs for your own brother” which turns their beautiful relationship into this ugly depraved thing to be ashamed of. I mean, this guy was literally a voyeur who would watch them from his hidey-hole while they were being intimate?? My god I would feel so unclean. And the worst part is, he overheard them calling each other by their real names not their aliases, so now he knows who they are and since the Baudelaires are still on the lamb this is bad. It gets pretty dark pretty fast.

“He won't want you anymore! No one's gonna want you when we're done!"

So he kidnaps and rapes Violet. Klaus and Sunny rescue her, dispatch the villain (Klaus’s earlier “I’d do anything” for his sisters, including becoming “a thief or a murderer,” acquires sudden resonance), and that’s when fucking Count Olaf shows up!!!! These kids just cannot catch a break. Turns out the Big Bad was actually working for Count Olaf all along. Olaf’s plan is still the same plan from The Bad Beginning where he plotted to steal the Baudelaire fortune by marrying Violet. Since Count Olaf has never in his life paid a henchman a salary, he was keeping the Big Bad sweet by promising to let him ravish Violet first. Let the full enormity of that sink in. Oh wait a minute Olaf isalso bent on knocking Violet up asap so the union can’t be dissolved on non-consummation grounds, or somesuch:

"You look at me as if I were a usurper, boy, about to steal something of yours. Tell me…" He gestured at Violet. "Is she yours?"

Why would you do this to me??????? This is so, so painful. Olaf uses an electric cattle prod on Klaus and makes Violet watch??? It’s ok though the Baudelaires prevail in the end, and emerge from the bloodstained ordeal as the family they are. My kink will forever be Violet and Klaus praising each other’s bravery and resourcefulness. They! Are! So! Proud! and! Supportive! Of! Each! Other! This line from earlier in the fic gets me every time:

I’ve failed them. This was his greatest fear, worse than death or any torment fate could devise. In his head, he imagined the struggle, saw his girls beaten and shot, felt each blow and bullet as if his own body were the target instead.

Klaus Baudelaire laying down his own body between the world and his sisters is really the only thing I care about:

And then her gaze fell to the marred canvas of his body.

I bet his back is a mess of burn marks ugh. Four weeks after Violet’s discharged from the hospital (practical Violet made sure to get the green light from the medical professionals) they finally have sex again, which is a relief—after the rape they were both hesitant to initiate sex because she thought she was damaged goods and he thought she wanted space? Silly kids. Oh and and here they are being mistaken by strangers for a pair of lovebirds:

One of the women sighed dreamily. "Did you ever see a more likely pair of turtledoves?" "Of course not," Mr. Poe sputtered, dabbing his brow with a handkerchief. "The very idea!" And he excused himself hurriedly, to make some phone calls. "Don't be silly," said the other. "They're siblings. Haven't you heard? … They're the Baudelaire orphans." "Well, I daresay," the first one went on, "anyone would've taken them for sweethearts."

I CANNOT WITH THESE TWO

The Baudelaires finally, finally come into their fortune free and clear. They put on their parents’ wedding rings and move to Canada. A cat (!!!) leaves baby Beatrice II in a basket outside their front door, and that completes their family. Nobody deserves good things more than these kids, and this fic ends exactly where it ought, describing “a rural life of moral simplicity.”

I read this fic years ago and it was w i l d rereading it again, thanks for coming along for the ride. If anyone wants to scream/cry about this fic in particular, or Violet and Klaus in general, feel free to send me an ask or message me ANYTIME

#fic rec #asoue #violet x klaus #Baudelairecest

[theonlyjelly-iwillput-inmybelly]

Escapade-Chapter Six

A/N: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

You can read…

The fic in its entirety on my AO3 (the link will take you to the beginning of the story)

Chapter One on my Tumblr (this will take you to Chapter One only)

Chapter Two on my Tumblr (this will take you to Chapter Two only)

Chapter Three on my Tumblr (I think you get the drill at this point)

Chapter Four on my Tumblr

Chapter Five on my Tumblr

Thank you so much for your love and support you guys it’s helping me through a rough time

Please let me know through a comment or message if you want to be added to the taglist! Chapter Seven is scheduled to be posted on Sunday. Reblogs are deeply appreciated!

Tagging people at the end (I MADE SURE TO DO IT THIS TIME)

Back at the mind palace commons, Logan and Patton were having a tough time keeping Virgil distracted.

Logan had realized that they had made a large error in keeping Virgil distracted earlier that day, because they had been interacting with him quite literally the entire day. Bolstered by his recent studies of psychology, Logan knew the characteristics of an introvert. He knew, based upon previous observation, that Virgil was indeed an introvert, however he was slightly more extroverted than most; he could withstand periods of social interaction, but he always, always needed time alone. As they had been keeping Virgil company all day in some form, be that talking to him or being in the vicinity of him, he had not been able to have any of his alone time. As he was most likely to take his leave in the hours where he most needed to be distracted, that is, the hours in which Roman was to fight the Dragon Witch, he could be a danger to both Thomas and himself if left to his own devices.

They were currently playing a game of Apples to Apples, a board game that was at a level that would not upset or horrify Patton. Logan was judge, and he was taking entirely too long as he was busy observing Virgil’s actions. The anxious side was continuously either glancing at the clock or the hallway to his room. The shadows beneath his eyes were darkening with every minute the clock got closer to striking twelve.

“Logan, haven’t you come to a decision yet?” Patton urged.

Logan looked instead at Patton. The moral side had decided to brave the dark hours for Virgil. Normally, he was out like a light no later than ten o’clock. He had somehow convinced Logan to give him some coffee to help him stay awake. Logan had completely underestimated the moral side’s caffeine sensitivity; Patton was now wired. Logan sensed the metaphorical recipe for disaster.

“Uhm...I pick ‘llamas’ as the most ‘unpredictable’ of these cards,” Logan said, waving the green card that read ‘unpredictable’ around. His decision was met with instant protest from Virgil and cheers from Patton.

“How the fuck are llamas more unpredictable than the government?!” Virgil hissed, glaring at Logan as he snatched his card that read ‘The Government’ and vehemently tossing it onto the discard pile.

“Llamas have finicky temperaments and are likely to spit at an aggressor with little warning whereas the government must abide by certain protocols and criteria,” Logan explained simply.

Virgil folded his arms. “Have you examined our government recently?”

Before Logan could formulate a response, the clock on top of the mantle rang twelve times. A thin silence fell over the family room.

“...It’s witching hour,” Patton whispered.

Logan turned and glared at Patton, while flicking his eyes pointedly to Virgil, whose face looked significantly paler.

“Well,” Virgil said flatly, rising, “I think I’m going to turn in.”

“What? We didn’t even finish!” Patton whined, waving the cards around.

Logan swallowed thickly, his thoughts racing. As Virgil argued with Patton (“It’s obvious Logan’s favoring you because you’re his boyfriend, so why should I even bother to keep playing? Shit’s rigged.” “That’s not true!”), Logan quickly tried to formulate his views on Virgil being left on his own while also trying to remember all that Patton had taught him about sensitivity.  

Logan cleared his throat quietly, a gesture that momentarily gained the other Sides’ attention. Leaping upon this opportunity before they started arguing again, Logan said in a gentle murmur “...Virgil, I don’t believe it would be wise for you to be on your own right now.”

Virgil paused, and turn slowly to glower at Logan. His lip curled. “Why?”

Logan took a deep breath through his nose. “Because I believe that, if left to your own thoughts and worries, you will perhaps indulge in activities that could prove to be detrimental to the health of Thomas and or yourself.”

Logan felt a twinge of pride in his chest when Virgil’s brows seemed to loosen and what he deemed to be a thoughtful expression appeared on the anxious side’s face.

The logical side’s pride was quickly dashed when Virgil’s expression twisted. He opened his mouth to retort, but before he could even draw breath, the anxious side completely disappeared before their very eyes, as if snatched away by some unseen force. A faint gust of wind scattered the cards, and a distinct scent of burning and smoke pervaded the living room.

“...Is something burning?” Logan asked.

Maximus was hiding well out of sight from the mock courtyard just before the lair of the Dragon Witch, where Roman was standing straight and tall, his sword held at the ready. The Prince glanced at his watch; it read twelve o’clock midnight. With a set jaw, the Prince stared straight ahead, adrenaline already starting to pump through his system. His purple hair blew about in the strong breeze, and the ground beneath him shook with the movements of the waking Dragon Witch.

The purple barricade flickered.

Roman tightened the purple fabric on his wrist.

The wind suddenly ceased to blow, as if the world was holding its breath.

In the shadows beyond the purple barricade, a single, yellow eye opened. With one last flicker and a noise like bones breaking, the barricade completely vanished, and a sharp toothed grin like that of the Cheshire cat pierced the shadows of the lair.

“Fine evening, isn’t it!” Roman called, his voice echoing in the now heavy silence of the canyon-like courtyard.

A great, hissing laugh bounced around the air. The hairs on the back of Roman’s hands and his neck instantly stood on end. He stared with wide eyes as the Dragon Witch slithered out of her lair. She emerged in her full height, looming twenty feet tall. She appeared taller due to the crown of horns on her head that braided and twined together to appear like the traditional hat of a witch. Her iridescent purple scales seemed to glow a deep red in the glowing light of the magma on all sides. Her right eye stared piercingly down at the minuscule figure before her. The left was horribly disfigured; Roman’s sword had a magic of its own in that the wounds it inflicted were incurable. Her eye was a raw red socket that still oozed a vile, yellow pus.  

“You’ve come to try and stop me again, have you?” she whispered, her silvery voice unpleasantly curling up and down Roman’s spine.

“This time I will not fail, Dragon Witch!” he called, trying his damndest to keep his voice from shaking.

The dragon spread her huge, scaly wings. The thin membranes snapped as she spread the wings as far as they could go. Her whole castle was blocked from Roman’s view. She tilted her head so she could view him with her good eye.

“What has changed this time, meagre mortal?” she asked, fully emerging from her lair and bringing her head closer to Roman. The ground quaked beneath them with every step she took. Roman’s purple hair lifted straight up as if someone was holding a vacuum above his head as she sniffed deeply. “I see you have changed your appearance. But why would that be?”

Roman blinked, unable to tear his gaze away from the enormous, glowing eye staring right through him. He got the unnerving feeling that she was...reading him.

“And what is this?” the Witch gasped, her tail moving at lightning speed to seize Roman’s arm. He cried out as he was pulled closer to the Witch, his sword falling from his grasp. He saw what her eye was eagerly surveying: Virgil’s gift. The purple plaid bracelet was illuminated in the yellow glow of the witch’s serpentine eye.

“It is a gift,” Roman declared, “from a friend.”

The slitted pupil looked from the bracelet to Roman for a split second before the eye closed as the Dragon Witch howled with laughter. She threw Roman onto the ground, her great peal of laughter causing rocks to crumble and tumble from her castle. Roman let out a grunt as he hit the ground, and he lay winded for a moment before scrambling to regain his sword.

“Prince Roman, you preen yourself. You change your appearance, and you wear a token from a ‘friend’,” The Dragon Witch hissed, her mouth curling to form a cruel smile. Her glittering eye shifting across his form from head to toe.

“I read you like a book,” she hissed. “I can hear your thoughts, see your heart. If I didn’t know any better, the only reason why you would try to make yourself appear more attractive is because this…’friend’ is something much more to you, aren’t they? That’s why they gave you this favour. A lady’s favour for her knight in shining armor. How classic!”

A wicked grin slashed across her mouth like a gash. “Though I sense that this lady is actually another man, isn’t he?”

Roman’s blood ran cold. She knew about Virgil.

The Witch crouched down, her claws folding together like a classic supervillain. She quietly observed the prince's pupil dilation and the way his breath hitched when she made her prediction. Humans were so easy to read. Her gaze bored into Roman’s.

“You make this battle much easier for me, Prince Roman,” she whispered, “So much so that I don’t even have to lift a claw to win.”

Roman’s jaw set. “You speak with arrogance, Dragon Witch,” he said in a warning tone, “That will get you killed. There is nothing you can do that will stop me from defeating you.”

The Witch snorted, and the great puff of breath from her nostrils set Roman staggering. Unwelcome thoughts crossed his mind; if her breath could almost knock him down, how on earth could he kill her? And what did she mean that she could win the battle without lifting a claw?

A sudden howling gale seem to surge into the canyon from the very earth. Roman’s breath was sucked out of his chest, and his eyes were blinded when a searing flash of purple light shot out from between the Dragon Witch’s claws. She bared her teeth in a cruel grin, and unlinked her claws.

“Is there really nothing?”

Roman squinted through the imprint of the flash that seemed to be glued to his eyelids. Blinking, his eyes focused on a vaguely humanoid shape that had appeared between the Dragon Witch’s claws. He gasped, gripping his sword for support, his vision tunneling.

There, in between the Dragon Witch’s open claws, slumped a figure tied to a chair. Its head was down, and its fists were straining against the bonds, as if it was trying to clutch its head. Its face was hidden by long bangs.

The figure was clad in a dark hoodie, a garment seemingly too voluminous for his thin frame.

“Virgil!” Roman heard himself scream, but it sounded distant, like he was speaking through a tube.

The Dragon Witch growled with approval as she watched Roman scurry forward, dropping his sword as he fell to his knees in front of the slumped figure’s chair. The Prince pawed at the figure’s chest desperately, clutching at the jacket like a lost child.

“Virgil, Virgil no, can you hear me, love?” Roman moaned, shaking the anxious side’s shoulders. Roman’s heart pounded with terror when he heard that Virgil’s breath was shallow and stuttery.

Virgil snapped his head up so suddenly that Roman could hear it popping. Fr once, it was Roman’s turn to be uncomfortable as Virgil locked eyes with him. The anxious side let out a thin moan, muffled by the tight gag tied between his teeth. His chest heaved against the suffocating ropes bound around his torso and his hips. His arms and legs were tied down; the only unrestrained part of him was his head. His eyes were red from crying, and salty tear tracks tore through his dark eye shadow.

“It appears my hypothesis was right,” the Dragon Witch chuckled evilly, “Prince Roman, falling in love! I must say, I am shocked; I thought that if you were to fall for any of your pathetic little friends it would at least be the smart one..though, even he isn’t very bright. However, I quickly ruled that one out because I figured he would have rubbed off on you, but you seem to be the same clueless moron that you’ve always been.”

Roman clenched his jaw, shaking his head from side to side as if to dislodge the Witch’s words from his consciousness.

“And I know that you consider the annoying one to be the closest thing you will ever have to a father, so I deemed that to be inappropriate. So, I arrived to the conclusion that the only one left was this...this waif!”  

She smothered her mouth with a claw, clearly unable to contain her glee.

“I don’t care how you arrived to your conclusion, you vile beast! Let him go!” Roman roared, slamming his fist onto the ground. His voice echoed feebly in the vast courtyard, and the Dragon Witch burst out into fits of derisive laughter that shook the very air as he gingerly shook his fist.

Roman felt animalistic rage boiling deep in his gut. How dare she call Virgil a waif! He gripped Virgil’s hoodie, trying to suppress a growl that was bubbling deep in his throat. The anxious side whimpered thinly, and Roman instantly released his grip. He cupped Virgil’s face and looked deeply into his scared eyes, but not for too long, for Roman was well aware of Virgil’s inability to make direct eye contact for very long without inevitably growing nervous.

“I’m going to get you out of here,” he whispered.  

The Dragon Witch guffawed again, and the wind howled around them.

Virgil slowly shook his head.

“You can try, but you’ll find that those bonds are magical. I conjured them myself,” the Dragon Witch crooned mockingly, “There is no way he can be released.”

She snorted with disdain as Roman shook his hands. The bonds had burned his skin as he tried to untie Virgil as she spoke.

“You and I both know that you can’t kill me, Roman,” the Dragon Witch said. As she spoke, her wings were encompassing the two sides, preventing any escape without the Prince even realizing. Her hypnotic eyes were boring into Roman’s skull. “You’ve tried so many times to kill me, and every time you’ve failed. I hate to sound cliche, but I know it gives you a kick, so I ask you Roman: aren’t you just nothing without me?”

Roman snapped his gaze upwards. “What do you mean ‘I’m nothing without you’?”

The Dragon Witch lowered her head until her eye was level with Roman’s. “You can’t kill me. How can you? You can’t even protect your little boyfriend.”

Roman looked at Virgil, whose eyes were boring into his. They glistened with tears.

“You can’t kill me, Roman, and you know it. And because of this, there’s no way of validating your worth to any of your little friends. That’s why you are nothing without me. Nothing but a hollow Prince unworthy of his title.”

She bared her teeth over Virgil’s hair, and hissed a laugh. The anxious side quivered, moaning in sheer terror, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. Roman’s heart broke. Virgil was usually so brave in his own way, but here he was engulfed in the throes of undoubtedly the worst panic attack of his life.

“Without me, you have no way of validating yourself.”she snarled.

Roman felt deep horror develop in his chest as he met the Dragon Witch’s gaze. Images began to form unannounced in his mind's eye, completely out of his control. Logan, Patton, and Virgil were all surrounding him, disgust in their eyes. They seemed to tower over him, the dark shadows floating around them accentuating their jaws and teeth, making them appear vaguely draconian.

“You claim to be such a powerful prince, Roman. But you can’t do anything right!” Logan was saying. His black eyes glittered venomously behind his glasses.

“All of your ideas for videos are...are terrible now! No one likes us anymore!” Patton hissed, his lip curling in revulsion.

“No one likes you anymore, Princey. None of us like you anymore. You’re worthless.” Virgil snarled, his eyes cold and empty, the cords in his wrists and hands tightening as they clenched into fists.

“You will be nothing,” The Dragon Witch snarled, shattering his thoughts, “How can you ever prove that you have worth if you don’t have anything to prove it with? They all know you have nothing. They all know you’re worthless. And so you constantly come here in an attempt to kill me so you can come home and show them your battle scars. But if you can’t kill me, they will no longer be impressed. They will only be convinced of their notions that you are worthless.”

Her ghastly breath blew over him as her gaze seared into his skull. “And that’s not a notion. That’s truth.”

Roman sank again to his knees, his legs shuddering like rubber. His head was spinning, the Dragon Witch’s eyes still burning in his mind. He closed his eyes and shook his head. He reached out for Virgil again. He buried his face into the voluminous hoodie. It was all too much. Too loud. Too fast. Too true!  He wanted to go home. He wanted to hide, hide from the truth behind the serpent’s word. He was utterly worthless, a hollow facade that hid nothing worth loving. She was right. She was right.

“But despite all that, I am going to release your little boyfriend,” the Dragon Witch purred.

Roman opened his eyes and gasped. “You are?!” he gasped, his voice shaky with sheer disbelief.

“On one condition.”

“Of course,” Roman grumbled, looking at the fistfuls of fabric between his fingers. The purple of Virgil’s favour on his wrist was in stark contrast to the solid black of his hoodie.

Roman blinked. His hoodie was solid black? Where was the purple plaid?

“Yes, on one condition,” The Dragon Witch purred, watching with pure glee as Roman clung to his lover’s prone form for support, “You must die.”

“What?!” Roman yelped, looking up in sheer horror.

“I thought it was only fitting, you dying for the safety of your lover,” the Dragon Witch responded, looking at her claws like any manicurist would, “It is only noble, isn’t it? Unless you want me to entertain the other option, which is to kill you both and I go on a rampage across the land, claiming this kingdom as my own, but I imagine you wouldn’t like that option.”

“What’s stopping you from rampaging across the land in the first option?” Roman snarled.

The Witch laughed. “Nothing. However, I solemnly swear that if you are to pick the first option that your little boyfriend will be well looked after.”

The Witch snickered, her tongue flicking out and slithering possessively around Virgil’s shoulders. The anxious side groaned, and sobbed from behind his gag. His panicked vocalization throbbed with the demonic echo of a panic attack. “He would make a swell slave.” the Witch purred.

“So...let me get this straight,” Roman said, his hands first smacking the Dragon Witch’s tongue away and then roaming over the entirety of Virgil’s hoodie, “Well, as straight I can get anything. I’m not straight, after all,” (At this, the Dragon Witch groaned,) “The only way you’re going to release him is if you kill me?”

“Yes.”

Roman thought quickly. There had to be another way. He had to make a deal that the Dragon Witch couldn’t refuse. The preferable option was that he and Virgil both made it out of this alive. The predictable option was that he free Virgil and die courageously in the process. But then, there was no way of ensuring that the Dragon Witch didn’t hunt Virgil down and kill him and the others at a later date! There was no way out, no clean way out, no moral way out.

As his watch buzzed, reminding him that it was quarter after midnight, he thought of Logan, the one who had given him the watch in the first place. He thought of Patton, and Patton’s food. He pictured the comfortable, warm mind palace commons. He thought of his bed, and he wanted to go home.

“...What if...What if I want to live?”

The Dragon Witch blinked. She looked down, and saw that Roman was completely avoiding his boyfriend’s gaze. He was shaking from head to foot.

“I-I need to live,” Roman pleaded, clasping his hands together in a begging gesture, “Please...Spare my life, mighty Dragon Witch. D-Do whatever you want to him. Just...Just let me live.”

The Dragon Witch’s jaw fell, her good eye widening in pure shock. There was a tense silence as she collected her bearings.

“You would have your lover die so that you may live?” she gasped in utter amazement.

Roman paused. “Well, when you put it that way it sounds pretty bad, but yes.”

“B-But,” the Dragon Witch spluttered, “ I will kill him. Eat him, in fact! And you can try to fight me, but you will lose. You will leave this place, mortally wounded as you always do. I will conquer everything in this land, and I’ll kill all of your other little friends too!”

A thin hush.

“...But I will live.” Roman whispered.

“You will. I promise,” the Dragon Witch said, sensing a better deal than she could have ever imagined developing. How about this! The Prince was willing to give up his friends, his kingdom, his lover so that he may live! What a cowardly turn of events! She could become the ruler of this entire world, completely uninhibited! And she would eventually kill him, too, despite her promises.

She peered down at the broken man before her. His shoulders were slumped, and his hands were gripping at his hair. He could not look at the figure tied to the chair before him. She could almost hear him grappling with his morals and his survival instinct. It was delightful.

There was a thick silence.

“...Let me live, Dragon Witch.”

@celiawhatsherlastname @monikastec @jordandobbertin @greymane902 @lostgirlgwen @kittenvirgil@iamahumanwaitnothatsalie @logan-logic @jet-black-hearted-girl@gay-ace-trash @shadowjag @thestoryoferissur@lexboydfandompanda

#escapade chapter six #escapade #my fics #sanders sides #prinxiety #logicality #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders

[jcmorrigan]

So if you're still taking questions, which if you're not then just ignore me, what were your plans for the Little Mermaid arc? And what world, was going to come after it?

The Mane Six strike a deal with Ursula to become sea ponies so they can go underwater and chase down the Evil Manta, who damaged the Starlight. They called Tony Stark and he said he’d send a drone to that world with repair materials for the ship, but it might take a few days. 

When underwater, the ponies run into Gabriella (from the animated series - a lot of characters from extended canon turn up here), who guides them to Atlantica. There, they see Sebastian taking auditions from various characters (Ariel, her sisters and friends) for a musical revue. The ponies try out.

Meanwhile, Ursula forms an evil alliance of herself, Evil Manta (who is her father), Morgana, Flotsam, Jetsam, Undertow, Cloak, Dagger, Marina Del Rey, Benjamin, Lobster Mobster, and Shrimp. The latter four have to be broken out of jail by Morgana.

 Little Evil sees the jailbreak and swimming off to see what all the hullabaloo is about, since he recognizes his sister Morgana in it. When the villain entourage arrives at Ursula’s grotto, everyone gets acquainted. Ursula is less than thrilled to know she’s working with Lobster Mobster, but the tone of the room completely changes when Ursula and Morgana ask how their little brother has been and Little Evil is, well, Little Evil, calling his dad “Popsie” and not being evil at all. Evil Manta is sheepish and tries to defend his parenting tactics, as he loves his son whether he’s evil or not. Ursula gives Evil Manta some shit about his previous schemes, that now it will require a little more than complimenting people to spread prejudice. She also brings up the boot.

The villains’ overall plan is to spread prejudice throughout all the Seven Seas by having Evil Manta go between the various nations and spread tidings of war, namely telling each nation that all the others are out to get it. Nations include Atlantica, Olympia, Valhalla, the Chasm (“Charmed”), Ablow Kadablow (“Giggles”), Sharkania, and I think there were some more in there that I’m forgetting. The goal is to get them all to go to war against each other and destroy each other, particularly Atlantica so Triton will leave the throne clear for Ursula to take over.

The Atlantican squadron figures this out. Triton takes a small delegation - Attina, Urchin, and a couple of the sea ponies - with him to one of the affected nations for a peace talk. He cautions Ariel to please, please, PLEASE stay out of this one and remain at home where it’s safe. She of course doesn’t listen and takes her own faction, which would have had Pinkie Pie, at least one other pony, and probably Gabriella and Arista, to another nation. As you can probably guess, this was my big chance to give all Ariel’s sisters actual screen time. Like they DIDN’T really get in Ariel’s Beginning. I was also going to play things up between the sisters, Urchin, Gabriella, Pearl, and Little Evil for ships to see if anything stuck. I currently don’t know what the most likely candidates were for those ships. I do know the one big endgame ship I wanted to play for was Marina/Lobster Mobster. Which I’m slightly trash for. Anyway, a delegation of the Atlantica contingent plus the remaining ponies (Twilight is in this group) remains home at Atlantica just in time for a big invasion - this one I KNOW was by the blowfish of Ablow Kadablow - forcing them to try diplomatic tactics early.

I think Triton’s faction went to Valhalla. That or Sharkania. A few interesting things go on in that faction. Attina informs Urchin that one of the biggest reasons Triton took such a shine to him is because of an older brother the sisters had who apparently died. As you can guess, this is Myde, who would later become Demyx, and he didn’t die; he ran away from home. Anyway, Triton sees Urchin as a chance to get the bonding he lost when Myde disappeared. Marina and Lobster Mobster are dispatched to take care of Triton during this bit, and they use the youth spell from “Red” to turn Triton into a baby, which they then kidnap. This results in shenanigans of the two of them acting as the worst parents ever (in a reference to “Double Bubble,” where LM gets a soft spot for two royal baby hostages). That leaves the other members of his faction to try and rescue him.

In Ariel’s faction, she and Pinkie Pie bond the most.

In the stay-at-home faction, Twilight tries a drastic move to seal away the Evil Manta with magic when next he comes around. Under some circumstance or another, the Manta DOES come to Atlantica to try and attack it, and Twilight attempts to seal him in the volcano all by herself. She fails and the Manta breaks free. This activates the clause in Ursula’s contract where Twilight doesn’t get to keep her sea pony form if she tries and fails to subdue the Manta, and she turns back into a human. She quickly hides before anyone can see her, using magic to conjure up air to breathe. Everyone thinks she died or disappeared somehow in the conflict against the Manta, except for whatever other pony stayed in this faction, who just gets super worried.

I didn’t know what was going to happen to resolve the Triton conflict or what happened with Ariel’s faction at all. That was going to be me making it up as I went along. I only knew I had to hit up all the nations and send delegates from each to Atlantica due to the peace talks. Twilight’s storyline was the one I fleshed out most. Now a human, Twilight makes her way back to Ursula’s grotto on foot on the seabed, remembering that the sea witch offered her hospitality if something like this ever happened. On the way, she passes through Shark Canyon (“Trident True”) and uses the glowing shells to form a light rainbow that she uses to Iris-Message Mozenrath. She catches him in the middle of a quest that would become a later interlude focused on him; all the conversations would be replayed from his POV at that time. Basically, once again, while the Mane Six have a year plus’ worth of adventures, only three or so days pass for him. Anyway, he briefly mentions that he and Hecate are out on a mission against someone named “Nasira.” Mozenrath and Twilight exchange some pleasantries and build the ship, but then Twilight has to be on her way. The next place she ends up is the ship of Archimedes (“Metal Fish”). Archimedes, being the only merperson besides Ariel to sympathize with humans, offers Twilight guidance and escorts her to Ursula’s grotto. Now, Evan brought up to me when I was piecing this whole thing together that Archimedes was almost certainly dead by the time TLM1 happens, or else Ariel would have brought the Dinglehopper to him instead of Scuttle. While I don’t normally kill characters in EoH, this was a perfect opportunity to give the Manta some street cred. Twilight and Archimedes arrive at Ursula’s grotto to find the Manta chillin’ with the villains there, and Twilight realizes she’s been taken for a ride. Evil Manta kills Archimedes; Little Evil sees this and is horrified. Ursula then turns Twilight into a sea worm for her garden.

Meanwhile, delegates from all the various nations gather in Atlantica and get over their differences. Pinkie Pie and Ariel figure out that the way to end Evil Manta’s reign of terror is with a song. They set up a plan of attack. When the Manta next arrives in Atlantica, wanting to know why the hell war hasn’t broken out over the entire Seven Seas, he’s met by a choir of merfolk and fish singing “No One Together” by Kansas, which you saw in the revue rehearsal scene. This is enough to chase him back to the volcano and seal it over with magic without using the Elements of Harmony at all!

Back in the grotto, Little Evil feels bad for what happened to Twilight, and he takes a potion from Ursula’s cabinet and uses it to restore Twilight’s sea pony form. They race to Atlantica as fast as they can. On the way, Little Evil talks about how much he loves his dad, and Twilight begins to wonder if sealing the Evil Manta away is the right thing after all. But by the time they get to Atlantica, it’s too late. The Manta is already back inside the volcano, and Little Evil is devastated. It comes out around this time that Ariel was the one who sicced the Brain Sponge on the Manta in “A Little Evil,” which Little Evil canonically never saw happen. Feeling betrayed by everyone he considered friend, Little Evil flees. Twilight chases him to comfort him. He tells her that while everyone is probably expecting him to go evil over this, he doesn’t really want to. He just needs to take some time to himself to think everything over. Twilight lets him go, and he begins soul-searching across the seas.

Triton and Ursula have a face-off, but Triton ultimately lets her go free and unpunished due to lingering feelings he has for her. He believes deep down that she can change, which is sadly his mistake.

The musical revue might go on, or it might just get replaced by everyone singing the Manta away and we call that a performance.

A definite scrapped subplot involved having Daniel (“Island of Fear”) mutate into a crab person because of Vile’s experiment hitting him latently, and him going underwater to join the main crew of heroes. Ultimately, I decided to keep Daniel human and on land; he would become more relevant on the return trip during the Kingdom Hearts run.

When the Mane Six get back to shore, they find that Tony Stark didn’t send a drone to fix the ship after all. He came in person on a ship of his own. He just got done repairing the Starlight, and the Mane Six decide to let him tag along on the next adventure. When they take off, it’s with Tony Stark in tow.

The last scene of the storylet catches up with a now-human Myde playing in a troop of street musicians in a square in Ashmark. He is approached by two strange women, who turn out to be Rosalina (Super Mario Galaxy) and Midna (Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess). The two of them tell him he’s who they’ve been looking for. He’s afraid they’re Atlanticans who came to drag him back home - he left and stole potions from Ursula to become human because he wanted to evade that kind of responsibility, and Ursula forever resents him for being able to steal from her and get away with it alive - but he soon realizes they’re there for an entirely different reason, one that would be revealed in a later interlude.

This catches up the Mane Six’s timeline with that of the Overtakers.

The next world would have been from the young adult book series “Maximum Ride.”

#EoHfic

[loudlytransparenttrash]

The reality of feminism

Feminists themselves say that they are a movement for gender equality without batting an eye. To them, it is such a normal and simple thing that they can’t believe they have to explain themselves. But of course, action speaks louder than words. You must understand that what feminists claim their movement is supposed to be and what it actually is are two completely different things. 

The plain truth is that: Feminism has never been a movement for equality. Feminism has always been about maximizing women's power at the expense of men. The feminists want: special treatment just by crying victim, privileges without responsibility, advantages just for being a female, government protection and funding, and for men to serve their every fickle whims and demands. Simply put, they want a world that revolves around them. And of course, they will deny this. When have they ever admitted to the truth? I would actually be disappointed if they told the truth about their own nature. Instead, they lie with even greater emotional hysteria and cower behind the word ‘equality’ as usual. 

The reason this lie of ‘equality’ is repeated over and over again by them is because no one would accept its hateful and toxic ideology at its face value. Feminism had to be sugar-coated with the ideals of liberation, freedom, and equality so that the general public would swallow it. And so it happened: everyone from naive women and women with chip on their shoulders to groveling men bought into the ugly lie of feminism. And feminism is a movement that can only exist through lies. Feminism needs deception as much as fish needs water, for its entire ideology is based on twisted facts. And there are no ends to the lies, the double-standards, and the hypocrisy of feminism:

• Feminists have distorted history to make it appear as though they’ve been exclusively oppressed throughout the ages.  • Feminists continue to lie about the wage gap, which has already been debunked many times over. • Feminists lie about rape statistics to whip up the hysteria of “rape culture” to shame, control, and subjugate men. • Feminists complain about how men slut-shaming women when women are, by far, more judgemental of each other's sexual ventures. • Feminists complain about how there aren't enough women in the tech field when, in fact, women are twice more likely to be hired for STEM faculty positions. • Feminists continually drone about violence against women, but they say nothing about the violence against men who are far more likely to be victims in all types of violence. (Why not campaign to stop all violence?) • Feminists complain about non-existent biases against women, but they remain completely silent to alt the biases against men within the legal system from divorce settlements to sentencing for crimes. There are countless examples of women getting away with crimes that men would be punished for which they also conveniently ignore. • Feminists whine non-stop about how there aren't enough women in science and engineering programs, ignoring the fact that women are less likely to opt for it by choice, and also ignoring the fact that women dominate almost all other fields in colleges and universities. To them, having far more women in post-secondary education than men is progress while having more men than women in one specific field is a sign of institutional sexism. • Feminists have done nothing to ensure "equality" for men other than to spread sickening lies, treat them all like potential rapists, harass and attack them, and send death threats and rape threats, yet they want men to take action to do more to help their cause and play a supplicating role to them.

And this is only the beginning. It doesn't matter how many of the above facts you point out to a feminist, she just will not care. She will rationalize them, downplay them, or just flat out ignore them, but she will never accept them. The only thing feminists will do in the face of truth is to double down on their victim rhetoric and scream "sexism" and 'misogynist' to shut you down. Feminists love telling people, especially men, how to think, talk, and behave, but they will not tolerate an ounce of disagreement from a man even if he was a feminist himself. 

You have to understand that these are not sensible human beings that we're dealing with. Many feminists are manipulative and full of spite, zealously looking for men to blame their problems on. Feminism is akin to a cult where its members vent out their blind hatred through their collective hysteria and emotionally directed delusions. 

I cannot emphasize enough just how unimportant the truth is to the feminists. Truth is a mere obstacle as the only thing that matters to them is themselves. The all-important question for them is: Does this further the agenda of expanding women's power while diminishing men's? If the answer to that question is a 'yes', the feminists will not be concerned whether it is the truth or not. They will tell the truth if it serves their purpose and they will tell lies if it maximizes women's power while decreasing their responsibility. Expecting feminists to be honest is as vain as expecting birds to mind where they shit - they simply don't care. 

And I don't believe that feminists themselves understand their own nature. They are delusional to a point of believing in their own lies. Their rational mind is either not functioning properly or have been hijacked by their unstable emotionality. They seem to be living in their own bubbles that cannot be penetrated by the truth, and their weakness and fragility to the real world only serves to cement their group-think. It’s no wonder they believe in something as ludicrous as the “Patriarchy” even as they live in a society that pampers them like children.

The reason they save their most vile hatred for the men's rights groups is because they see them as competitors for the victim olympics. How dare do men ask for rights? There is only a finite supply of victim-privileges given out by society and the feminists can’t stand having competitors who threaten their monopoly.

These same feminists whose entire movement is based on playing the victim will mock any men for adapting to the social situation and using the same tactics as them. Suddenly, when they see others playing the victim, the ludicrousness of it all becomes apparent, but they can’t seem to hold up the mirror to see their own ludicrous existence. Perhaps like Medusa, they implicitly understand that it will be fatal.

Know that feminists are noxious and emotionally unstable individuals who use their equally demented ideology to vent out their rage out onto men. The irony is, they don't even seem to be aware that their entire existence is possible because of all the powerful men in governments and corporations who support them. Do they really expect to be able to harass and attack men on their own without taking advantage of the system and other supplicating men? But as rve said in the beginning, hypocrisy is a fundamental trait of feminists. They will continue to attack men as they get support from them at the same time. There is no irony or contradiction here. 

And what do these feminists want exactly? To understand the kind of world these feminists want to create, you only have to look at the direction the feminist infested societies are heading towards.

We already live in a society that expels men from universities without an evidence or due process with a mere accusation of rape. We live in a society where women can destroy a man's career, reputation, and life just for arguing with her on social media. We live in a society where a man will be charged for rape just for walking past a woman. This is the kind of world we already live in, and the feminists are campaigning to make everything even worse for men just for the crime of being men. 

Will feminists ever be satisfied? No. Since their true goal is not equality, they will never be satisfied no matter how much they're given. You give into one of their demands and they will conjure up ten new ones. They're continuously on the search for new things to get offended by, new ways to police and restrict people, and new ways to define sexism and rape to perpetuate their eternal victimhood. This is a movement with a bottomless pit that will devour any and all notion of human decency. 

From all my experiences interacting with feminists, I have decided that the great majority of them are either emotional vampires who drain your energy to feed their own egos or just complete human trash who exist only to put men down, thus making up for their own insecurities. 

Feminists have destroyed the relationship between the sexes and like any other extremists, they have even attacked the group they're supposedly advocating for: other women, for not accepting their dogma. I don't think feminism will go away completely anytime soon as long as the current socio-cultural system remains intact and as long as their daddy government supports their movement but we have started to see their demise with the country standing up to the social justice circus, they know their movement is slowly dying and just like any feral animal that’s been kicked to the side and waiting for its death, we are seeing them lash out more than viciously than ever but it’s only a matter of time before they collapse. 

In the meantime, I think the best way to fight back against feminism is to laugh at their tantrums and buzzword insults and keep telling the truth so that decent men and women around the world can see it for the disease that it is.

#feminism #feminist #anti feminist #anti feminism #radfem #radical feminism #anti-feminism #anti-feminist #gender #gender studies #gender equality #Gender Roles #social justice #social justice warrior #anti social justice warriors #SJW #anti-sjw #anti sjw #sjw bullshit #feminism1

[sapphiresnowfall-blog]

The Wall

“Then die, because you might as well be dead. Seriously, if you always put limits on what you can do, physical or anything else, it’ll spread over into the rest of your life. It’ll spread into your work, into your morality, into your entire being. There are no limits. There are plateaus, but you must not stay there, you must go beyond them. If it kills you, it kills you. A man must constantly exceed his level.” - Bruce Lee

That quote came from the late Bruce Lee, a man who never believed in giving up, in failing, or in letting people down. Tonight I feel as if I’ve let down both my family and the family I wish to be a part of..

My girlfriend (bless her heart) never gives up on me and even puts my own well being above her own, but even then I let her down. I feel so rotten and so vile right now that I could cry, scream, or just punch something until my body gives out because I’m so damn angry at myself and disappointed with myself. I know she cares about me, I know her mother loves me, I know her dad even likes me, but I feel absolutely rotten to the core inside and out and I need to fix myself now.

I’ve failed to get my permit, license, or passport in the time-frame I promised to her, which was nearly six whole months ago, and there’s no fucking excuse for it. There isn’t! I feel like a parent trying to discipline their child - there is no excuse - no matter how rational or irrational shit is right now, there isn’t an excuse. As such I feel like a liar, a loser, a broken pile of shit, and I hate who I am because of it.

This isn’t about pity, this is about venting, because if I don’t let this out now I don’t know what I’ll do. I’m crying, panting, and in my head all I see is a brick wall. In fact let me paint you a picture as to what I see right now.

“You’re standing in front of a brick wall; the world around you is black, everything is within a void of emptiness. In this void you see clear floating bubbles that contain everything you hold most dear. You see your memories, your cherished moments, the people you love, the life you wish to live, all of your hopes and dreams floating around in these perfect little spheres. They suddenly move behind the wall, and you cannot access them until you break through it. So you walk up to the wall and begin to bash your forehead into it; over and over you hear a crunch as the wall and your skull begin to give way, but it just keeps hurting so you keep stopping.”

Well no more, I’m tired of this bullshit because I’m not letting anyone down anymore.. I’m not perfect, but I’m not going to give up on my life or my future wife.

I will get my permit, I will get my license, I will get my passport, I will keep applying for jobs, I will keep working on this blog of ours, but I’m done being a let down.

Everything I’ve put down are words, but I have goals behind them. My ultimate goal is this..

I want to get married to you C, I want you to be the mother to our children, I want you to look at me and to trust me despite my flaws and ignorance. I want to live with you, to be with you, and to die along side you when I’m an old man. I don’t want you to think less of me because of all of this nonsense, and I don’t want your family to loathe me because of it either.. I know I’m at fault, and I know this isn’t something that can be solved overnight, but I hope you can still trust me and put your faith in me regardless of all that I’ve done wrong.

Because in the end i don’t think in any capacity that you hate me or want to lose me out of your life, in fact I know you have the same dreams that I do. You want me to stay, to never leave, to love you and to marry me one day. You want us to have a good life, you want me to have a good life, and you’re working your ass off for the both of us.  So that I say thank you for doing everything you possibly can darlin. I’ll do everything I can too, and I am truly sorry that I’ve screwed up so much in the past. 

I promise I won’t touch a damn game again unless it helps me further my goal of getting to you and having a ring put on your finger as my legal wife in the United States. I’m not fucking around anymore, you’re not a toy, you’re my everything, and it’s high time I prove it.

I love you dearly, I love you with all my heart, I love you with all my soul.

My tea drinking lobster from across the sea.

[kidsviral-blog]

Not just ‘right wing’ disturbed by Lena Dunham’s ‘weird 7 year old’ self

New Post has been published on https://kidsviral.info/not-just-right-wing-disturbed-by-lena-dunhams-weird-7-year-old-self/

Not just ‘right wing’ disturbed by Lena Dunham’s ‘weird 7 year old’ self

http://twitter.com/#!/lenadunham/status/528613546108944384

Where to begin with Lena Dunham? First of all, we can’t imagine a world where accusations of the molestation of a younger sibling would be “LOL.” And second, while the most disturbing passage from Dunham’s book, “Not That Kind of Girl: A Young Woman Tells You What She’s ‘Learned,’” has been covered by conservative outlets like National Review and Truth Revolt, it’s far from a “right wing news story” when those sites simply quote verbatim from Dunham’s book.

The fact that @lenadunham is glorified in our society is horrifying. This is vile –> http://t.co/wJDB5uf84o

— Katie Pavlich (@KatiePavlich) October 30, 2014

So, what passage has conservatives like Katie Pavlich worked up? Here’s an excerpt, as reported by National Review:

Dunham writes of casually masturbating while in bed next to her younger sister, of bribing her with “three pieces of candy if I could kiss her on the lips for five seconds . . . anything a sexual predator might do to woo a small suburban girl I was trying.” At one point, when her sister is a toddler, Lena Dunham pries open her vagina — “my curiosity got the best of me,” she offers, as though that were an explanation. “This was within the spectrum of things I did.”

We won’t get into another anecdote involving Dunham and her baby sister’s genitals, but as National Review’s Kevin D. Williamson puts  it, “There is no non-horrific interpretation of this episode.” Apparently there is, though, as Dunham scolds those nasty right-wingers with their filthy obsessions:

And by the way, if you were a little kid and never looked at another little kid's vagina, well, congrats to you.

— Lena Dunham (@lenadunham) November 1, 2014

Usually this is stuff I can ignore but don't demean sufferers, don't twist my words, back the fuck up bros.

— Lena Dunham (@lenadunham) November 1, 2014

I told a story about being a weird 7 year old. I bet you have some too, old men, that I'd rather not hear. And yes, this is a rage spiral.

— Lena Dunham (@lenadunham) November 1, 2014

So, Lena Dunham is irritated with Kevin Williamson because he quoted her own words?

— Charles C. W. Cooke (@charlescwcooke) November 1, 2014

Don’t twist her words? Again, these are verbatim passages from the book she chose to write and publish. And though Twitter avatars certainly are no guarantee of the tweeter’s real appearance, there are many critics who don’t appear to be “bros” or “old men.”

Lena Dunham might have been 7 when the abuse too place, but she was a goddamn adult when she wrote about it. #BOYCOTTLENADUNHAM

— Kathleen Pye (@KathleenCanada) November 1, 2014

Lena Dunham and her fans disgust me I thought feminists believed in harsh consequences for rapists yet they're worshipping one

— Katie (@yunglibertarian) November 1, 2014

Lena Dunham has taken to twitter to respond to how unfair a story is… that she wrote. I love the smell of #WhitePrivilege in the morning.

— April (@ReignOfApril) November 1, 2014

I need @lenadunham to understand that it's not just straight white conservative men that are disgusted by these latest revelations.

— April (@ReignOfApril) November 1, 2014

how are you a feminist if you are normalizing the fact that you molested your little sister? @lenadunham

— Ashley D (@ghesquieremuse) November 1, 2014

Wtf this Lena Dunham story is hella disturbing…talk about bad parenting also

— Slayoncé (@Mulkizm) November 1, 2014

WTF LENA DUNHAM!?!?! Holy good god I feel sick.

— Dai (@daibyday) November 1, 2014

lena dunham is abusive & gross. she writes about sexually abusing her sister so nonchalantly & outs her without considering her at all.

— rajasthani royalty (@keyrith_) November 1, 2014

your wording "@lenadunham: The news story that I molested my little sister isn't just LOL- it's really fucking upsetting and disgusting"

— Hazal (@nothazel_) November 1, 2014

(TW) Lena Dunham writes in her book "anything a sexual predator might do to woo a small suburban girl I was trying." @lenadunham

— Hazal (@nothazel_) November 1, 2014

you in your own words described acting like a sexual predator towards her now it's blowing up, you're on defensive @keyrith_ @lenadunham

— Hazal (@nothazel_) November 1, 2014

it's one thing to do it as a child, but it's another thing to defend it and speak so casually of it as an adult @keyrith_ @lenadunham

— Hazal (@nothazel_) November 1, 2014

I’m going back to spreading love, bc this Lena Dunham story has me hurt, angry, and having homicidal thoughts. I wanna choke slam her.

— brandy (@lov3jonez) November 1, 2014

.@lenadunham I'm not an old man – I'm a middle aged woman telling you that what you did, then writing about it with glee, is SICK.

— CatsPolitics (@CatsPolitics) November 1, 2014

So if Lena Dunham was a man admitting to molesting his sister at seven…would people still be defending him? #sickgirl #LenaDunham

— Rachel Stewart (@RStewartJewelry) November 1, 2014

Lena Dunham is not about to normalise this shit…. Nope. It's messed up

— Jollof gate (@EnnaSoCrowned) November 1, 2014

lena dunham is so used to white privilege she's stunned we didn't think her abuse story is just another quirky white girl thing

— hoetbh (@hoetbh) November 1, 2014

Okay, Lena Dunham has always been pretty terrible but that really crosses a new line. Holy crap.

— Amanda (@Amanda_Hope) November 1, 2014

Getting more and more grossed out. Lena Dunham is sick and the people caping for her need their heads examined

— Ororo Monroe (@DearLeader10) November 1, 2014

IMHO, @lenadunham is just abusing her sister all over again. I'm sure sister will be trotted out to say, oh, it's ok, in a few days.

— Kibblet (@Kibblet) November 1, 2014

Good call.

Sometimes I get so mad I burn right up. Also I wish my sister wasn't laughing so hard.

— Lena Dunham (@lenadunham) November 1, 2014

  Read more: http://twitchy.com/2014/11/01/i-feel-sick-its-not-just-right-wing-disturbed-by-lena-dunhams-story-about-being-a-weird-7-year-old/

#Katie Pavlich #Lena Dunham