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Violence - Blog Posts
I blacked out again-
gif version for the gif lovers and daddy-issued punchers
also gimmie back capcut, imovie sucks >:(
Stream “Mommy” by R.I.P
So like- this is how i think leo lost his arm- you want to know more? Read my fic! I’ll be putting these images in the book soon! So yuh- have fun with them for now!
https://www.wattpad.com/story/319363171?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create_story_details&wp_uname=X_writes_shit&wp_originator=SOTy%2BvoylZOlMijF1WABgMUqhogUeZ0%2BmNhJVTT3Ws47XSq1dzq%2Bm1e8YEH8pEhZ97tOyUFG%2Fa%2FiY7L%2F3ACglQfEe3hjY4knjSUX%2F8aQhtNGMCgA6YnCip8KZpJ8t47u
Again- sorry that I don’t have ao3- its hard to work with and it work work well for me so-
Still artblocked but- IM MAKIN A FANFIC- yuh, the art’s by me- and the fanfic is just basically if master leonardo went back instead of casey so yeah- have fun
https://www.wattpad.com/story/319363171?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create_story_details&wp_uname=X_writes_shit&wp_originator=zZq97ZMqQ2z4nDcFol5SNp1DeYtYQUs5CLrMkmdk62jOC%2Fad4EmoPraSu%2BX5xw2kESMRckhGimoztStMPJ4RjPYP3w1Kb7amBu2f8%2BS2TpsBee20WQRmXVrXFxLGSo9J
That’s the link ^
Ps: sorry I don’t have ao3, it’s hard to use especially how I don’t know the system well
Zero
🔪 You actually met when you were in kindergarten. It was love at first sight. He was enamored by you and your cute outfit. He ran towards you the first day.
“Hi, my name is Зиновий, what’s yours?”
And the rest was history.
🔪 Since that day he would always be with you. Following you everywhere and never let other kids play with you. It was always just the two of you. You were always together at school. You two ate together, had sleepovers, had the same classes, cuddled together, did projects together, and even kissed during the first grade play. Monopolizing your time and friendship at school was the goal. No one had what you guys had, and he was hoping it would always stay that way.
🔪 Everything was going as planned until your mom‘s job change sent you out of the archipelagos to the States in the second grade. How dare she! Uprooting your life and ripping you away from your best friend b̸o̸y̸f̸r̸i̸e̸n̸d̸. You didn't even have time to say goodbye to anyone. You were here one minute, gone the next. It was a nightmare.
🔪 When he found out he was devastated. A lot of tears were shed during that time. Tantrums were heard to be the norm for quite a while in the убийца’s household. He looked everywhere for you. But no information on you was ever found. It was like you just disappeared, like you never existed. Like a chilly day in October. Whisked away by the cool breeze.
🔪 She changed and surrounded herself with people. Your missing presence was too overwhelming. Even if she hated it, she would befriend everyone, if only to distract her for a moment from thoughts of you. She went so far as to make contact with some of the people she couldn’t scare away from you. But the void in her heart was never fully quelled. They were not you. And nothing could change that, not in those moments at least.
🔪 She caught her first glimpse of you in a long time through your closest childhood friend. Question ran through her mind, she thought she was your closest friend, and why did they get the privilege of staying in contact when she didn’t. She started to vigorously study your face as quickly as she could. She would never knew if there would be another chance to. It looked like you had matured. Like you were tired, stressed. She could see it. How could she not? She wanted nothing more than to whisk you away so you would never have to worry about anything. And she would.
🔪 It wouldn't be until college that they would be able to see you again. They have matured a lot since the last time they saw you and since your last official meeting. They were cooler, friendlier, and more assured. They mirrored nothing of the needy cat that followed you around, more of that of a wise fox. But foxes are known to be sly creatures by nature.
🔪They approached you carefully, slowly. Taking it step by step. Getting to know you little by little. Learning everything about you that they could. Making your favorite dishes, helping you with your homework, helping you destress, and even assisting you in doing laundry. They were everywhere, always helping you with everything they could. Taking up so much of your time so that they will have successfully ingratiate themselves into your life. Doing so that they are essential to you. Something or someone you can not live without.
🔪 The night lies and deceit fester. As midnight strikes another body is flung into the wall as the fine silk curtains are dyed a hideous red. The body count adds up to fast. Too many needed to die. Even when there are commissions, the important work gets done first. It always does.
🔪 Wiping the blood off the corner of his lip, she prepares to call you. They wait, taking a seat on the throne of bodies they created. A satisfying crackle of bones is made, but drowned out by the annoying buzzing of the phone. You answer, slightly breathless. They chuckled imagining what you were doing before they called. This happens every time he calls…and she loves it. Your call together lasted an hour at most. Just tucking you into bed, while he cleaned the mess he made. You were always bad at bedtime. As your call is near the end, one last word is heard.
“I love you, Mwah”
They swoons, you're so adorable, it’s sickening.
🔪 And so as the night ends, there is not a sound or soul present. As he digests what was said, she’s sure it was in the heat of the moment. But you couldn’t take it back. He wished he would’ve recorded it. She’d love to hear it again. Salivating as they turned back into their male appearance. The form most well receipted by society. The form most familiar to you. Wishing for the dream they live to never end. They walked out the room and went to the nearby alley, skipping the whole way home. They couldn’t wait to see your drooling face in bed. Or the reaction you will have when they tried to snuggle up to you in your sleep.
Then they inquired to themself, it was quite the important question…
Where are they going to store their latest trophy?
Violence is not an answer.
It is a question.
And the answer is always yes.
and now heaven will smite you
Marama, my love, this looks wonderful. I love you.
Yippee I can post the art I made for the incredible mermaid Himiko design from @miowess (thanks for it again!!), it was soooo fun to draw I loved it sm 🥺🥺🥺
I have one job, and its a pretty simple job: I come in in the morning, and we look at the news, and I write jokes about it. And then I make a couple of faces, and like a noise, and then it’s just ch-ching, and I’’m out the door. But I didn’t do my job today, so I apologize. I got nothing for you in terms of jokes and sounds, because of what happened in South Carolina. And maybe if I wasn’t nearing the end of the run, or this wasn’t such a common occurrence, maybe I could’ve pulled out of the spiral, but I didn’t. And so I honestly have nothing. Other than just sadness, once again, that we have to peer into the abyss that we do to each other, and the nexus of a gaping racial wound that will not heal, and that we pretend doesn’t exist. I’m confident, though, that by acknowledging it, by staring into that and seeing it for what it is… we still won’t do jack shit. Yeah. That’s us. And that’s the part that blows my mind. I don’t wanna get into the political argument of guns, and things – what blows my mind is the disparity of response between when we think people who are foreign are going to kill us, and us killing ourselves. If this had been what we thought was Islamic terrorism, it would have fit into our – we invaded two countries! And spent trillions of dollars, and thousands of American lives, and now fly unmanned death machines over like five or six different countries. All to ‘keep Americans safe’! 'We gotta do whatever we can! We’ll torture people! We gotta do whatever we can to keep Americans safe!’ Nine people. Shot in a church. What about that? 'Hey, what can we do? Craziness is craziness, right?’ That’s the part that I cannot, for the life of me, wrap my head around. And you know it. You know that it’s going to go down the same path. 'This is a terrible tragedy.’ They’re already using the nuanced language of lack of effort for this. This is a terrorist attack. This is a violent attack on the Emanuel Church in South Carolina, which is a symbol for the black community. It has stood in that part of Charleston for a hundred and some years, and has been attacked viciously many times, as many black churches have. And to pretend that, I heard someone on the news say ‘tragedy has visited this church.’ This wasn’t a tornado. This was a racist. This was a guy with a Rhodesia badge on his sweater. I hate to even use this pun, but this one was black and white. There’s no nuance here. And we’re going to keep pretending like, ‘I don’t get it! What happened? This one guy lost his mind!’ But we are steeped in that culture in this country, and we refuse to recognize it, and I can’t believe how hard people are working to discount it. In South Carolina, the roads that black people drive on are named for Confederate generals who fought to keep black people from being to drive freely on that road. That’s insanity. That’s racial wallpaper. You can’t allow that. Nine people were shot in a black church by a white guy who hated them, who wanted to start some kind of civil war. The Confederate flag flies over South Carolina. And the roads are named for Confederate generals. And the white guy is the one who feels like his country is being taken over. We’re bringing it on ourselves. And that’s the thing: al Qaeda? ISIS? They’re not shit compared to the damage that we can apparently do to ourselves on a regular basis.
JON STEWART, The Daily Show (via inothernews)
I got reminded of the movie Mighty Aphrodite today.
And, like, how did we ever think Woody Allen was okay?
It's about a man, played by Woody ofc, who adopted a son and wants to meet the kid's birthmother (Mira Sorvino) to find out what she's like in case the kid wants to meet her when he's older. Sounds okay so far, right?
BUT! It turns out that she's a sex worker. She's a prostitute and she's done porn in the past. Well that's just not acceptable to poor flustered Woody. He worms his way into her life, without letting her know who he is, so that he can save her from such a terrible lifestyle. Iirc she's actually pretty happy and isn't struggling. Not that her happiness or quality of life anything to do with his motivations - he just doesn't the woman who birthed his son to be involved in sex work.
So yeah, lies to her constantly to get involved in her life. He decides that she needs to quit sex work and get herself a husband. So he sets her up with....some dude. Some dude who has obvious anger problems and a clear hatred of women. He then lies to the dude about her career and convinces her to lie as well because no respectable man wants to be involved with a prostitute.
The dude beats her up after seeing her in a porn film he was watching with his buddies. Because it's totally fine for him to consume the content, but absolutely wrong of her to create it. He then leaves her. He's not treated like a villain btw. If anything, the movie seems to think she was in the wrong.
After this, Woody finally decides that he has no business meddling in her life like this and takes off. Doesn't cop to who he is or what he did or anything, but he at least left her alone.
And then the movie ends with them running into each other like two years later. And he still lies to her. And it turns out that she married a pilot that she met because of him, had a baby, and now she's a stay at home mother. Her life is all sunshine and roses now thanks to Woody Allen deciding to be her savior. Everything he did was good actually because she's a tradwife now.
I...just...how do we let men tell on themselves this much and then hand out Oscars for it??
Draven looked so fine with it at first… 💀
Smallfeather was not harmed in the making of this comic
I FINSIHED IT YAAAY
We have so many words for hate, let's create as many new words for love.
When I first came to this site it was for content and comfort and community I couldn't find in my own surroundings, and I love this place, it still calms me. But the bitter side of being here is that every day I learn more and more about violence happening in the world. I first learned about racism in here. I first learned about homophobia in here. And hate crimes, and ableism and transphobia and misogyny and the many ways religion is treated. And it had taught me much. I find out that I too had participated in such acts of hate. I became a better person and changed my ways of thinking but I still have a lot to grow. It saddens me that every act of violence and hate has its own definition for it, because it means that such thing happened so often people created a new word for it. It saddens me that more and more such word are created every day. And I wish it wouldn't have to be this way, but I realise that people can't just give up on hate. But maybe one day we will. I hope that one day we will. But in the meantime, let's lay a foundation for it. Let's do for every act of violence and equal act of love and compassion and understanding and kindness. Let's do it again and again, that it would became its own phenomenon with its own definition.
We have so many words for hate, let's create as many new words for love.
Dreamed that my backyard looked into a forest. In the yard, I saw what looked like a large stag.
When I looked closer, I saw that the stag had a human face. It only had one antler, which was held in place by a ribbon. Instead of hooves, at the end of it’s legs were spindly fingers. It didn’t walk with the ‘palm’ flat to the ground like an ape, it balanced on the very tips of it’s fingers, and it’s legs didn’t move, just the spindly fingers.
Had this dream after I had spent the day wondering what I would look like if I were a demon.
Dreamed that I was putting on make up. I used gold liquid eyeliner to write “Jesus loves me, this I know. Yes, Jesus loves me.” across my cheek bones. I put sparkly orange eyeshadow on my eyelids and the end of my nose.
Dreamed about A. R., a boy that emotionally abused me from 5th - 8th grade. He seemed threatening, but also like he was coming on to me. He stood behind me and slipped his hands up into my shirt. I reached back, grabbed him by the ears, flipped him over my shoulder, and while he was on the ground, I stomped on him. Very satisfying dream.
When he bullied (abused) me, teachers and other adults frequently told me that it must be because he had a crush on me. I was very, very aware that was not the case. He never made “positive” sexual remarks towards me, never showed a lick of attraction, he loathed me. And, it seemed, women/girls in general. My therapist had a theory that A. R. was deeply repressed and self-loathing concerning possible same gender attraction on his part. He never spoke of finding women attractive, was blatantly misogynistic and lesbophobic, and actively drove me away from mutual male friends.
Maybe I dreamed of him being sexually aggressive because I’m thinking of myself as a trans boy, recognizing that a male identity means I could possibly be an object of desire for A. R., as I never was in the past. And I still rejected him. And I did what I said, for years, I could have done with half a chance — kicked his ass.
AU: Father hates Lucifer and blames him for his mother’s death. Michael tries to prove him that he is loved and helps him go through their father’s hate.
lol. Vigorous is in the corner 🤣
This is just a sketch. Ima do it in pen and maybe even color it.
Note To Society #31
If people are rioting because of police violence, the proper response is not to be more violent.
GET HER ASS
there are many benefits to being a subway boss (i.e. having the ability to tell rude passengers off)
"Angel's madness" AU
strange name isn't it? Anyways I have an AU idea for Gravity Falls!!! (Because why not?)
So basically, the AU takes place a year or two before Ford meets Bill, during the time when he was just studying the falls. Everything up until that point is the same as canon, except for oneee... tiny... detail.
Stanley Pines dies.
Probably not original, but he didn't kill himself. Rico did that for him! Stan finally got caught by the guy (so ooc) and was murdered, but not before he got his eyes ripped out or something.
And, because I can't process watching a character I love die, HE COMES BACK AS A FRIGGIN' ANGEL! Due to the aftermath of having his eyes ripped out and probably a bunch more injuries on him, and the trauma of dying and returning to life, Stanley goes mad! Yipe!
Since Stanley has now perished and returned to end literally anything due to his madness, he starts causing multiple disappearances (Don't worry, he's just a silly little angel with silly little powers), killing each member of the gang he was once apart of, Rico going last because Stan wants him to suffer.
After all the murder, Stan is slowly drawn towards Gravity Falls due it the place being a weirdness magnet. He haunts the dreams of anyone he chooses, but...
He finds Ford hanging around Gravity Falls.
It brings some lost and broken part back to Stan. A... protective side. The same one he had when he was protecting Ford from bullies in the past.
And so, with barely enough sanity, he decided: "I'm going to become one of those guardian angel type guys!" And proceeded to start visiting Ford in his dreams, along with protecting Ford whenever the nerd is in danger.
--
Lemme explain about what happens in Ford's dreams whenever Stan decides to hop in. The dream always starts out like any other dream, but Ford always saw a strange version of Stan in the distance, his eyes bandaged and just... watching him.
whenever Stan protects Ford in the real world, he doesn't show himself, only doing so if Ford is in a really bad situation. (which is sometimes, but Ford doesn't really see WHO is saving him.)
And after a few times of Ford being saved, he starts to wonder: "What the heck? Am I being protected by a ghost?". Being a silly scientist guy, Ford starts doing experiments, trying to understand / see the ghost. Most fail, but one works, and Ford saw a glimpse of Stan.
Yeah, perceive this however you want, but i'm just going to put an image of Stan here. Since I don't believe in myself to actually draw the guy, i'll just make him in GL2! (Forgot to mention that Stan kinda acts like a ghost, only Ford can see him if Stan so desires)
There ya go! err.. enjoy. Also, plz credit if used or something!
Kidnapping whump can be so good, theres so many options,,,
Do they get drugged and wake up in an unfamiliar place?? Do they get a gun dug into their back and a whispered threat to comply?? Do they get jumped on the street and manhandled into a van??
What about once they’re there?? How do they react?? Are they stoic and unbreakable?? Defiant and quippy?? Or are they terrified, begging to be let go?? Do they cry?? Scream?? Or stay silent no matter what??
And what do their captors want?? Information?? Does b tell?? Or perhaps they want to send a message, to hurt someone close to b. Or maybe its personal, maybe they just want b.
What do they do to b?? Just rough them up a bit?? A couple strong punches or kicks?? Some threats, maybe?? Or do they go further?? Broken fingers, water boarding, whips?? Severed toes, extracted teeth, eye puncture?? Do they condition them or use non con or dehumanize them??
How does it end?? Are they rescued by their team, friends, caretaker or even enemy?? Do they escape on their own or with other victims?? Are they set free, after the captors are done with them?? Does their story end with the sweet release of death?? Or does it never end??
Ahhhhh, kidnapping,,,
((Any feedback is greatly appreciated!))
Breathing in and out, I can't find what I need. I ruin all peace, making the same errors again and again.
I couldn't quite settle on one.
this is why i have trust issues /j
Monday May 22.
Footage of a horrifying tiger attack.
You really don't want to see this
I mean, why would you do this to yourself?? It's horrible
Nothing good can come from watching
Look, if we give you $5, will you promise to leave? It's really for your own good
You know, the more we think about it, the more it feels a little uneasy. Are you sure you're OK? Why do you want to see it so much? It's kinda weird
Really?
This is your last chance! It's not too late to turn back
Fair enough, have it your way. But it's about to get grizzly
You didn't really think we'd put you through that, right? We're far too fond of you. After all, it's Monday, #tigers are trending, and we simply could not be happier.
This immediately reminded me of Chainsaw Man Ending 11 💜
this post has been flagged for
Brahms Heelshire
AN: Brahms is here!!
Warnings: major character death, violence, Brahms being insane and his usual toxic self, swearing
"What do you think you're doing?"
His voice was alarmed, panicked, as if he saw you holding a knife instead of a pair of pants. Brahms had that kind of thing where he'd worry about the tiniest things. A word that wasn't pronounced like he was used to, food that didn't taste like usual, mistakes that broke the routine. It made him uneasy, and scared.
You were standing in front of the bed, trying to decide what clothes to wear. The satin sheets were littered with varying clothing articles arranged close to each other to determine which colors matched.
"The new girl who brings the groceries invited me into town to show me around in case she can't go shopping for us. I thought I'd go, you know-", you gestured towards him, "in case there's an emergency."
Brahms was quiet for a few seconds, still observing you while nervously grasping the edge of the door.
He didn't want you to go. Not at all. You wouldn't come back if he let you go.
"I don't want you to go.", he mentioned his worries quietly, voice dropping deeper, now that he knew he had to stop you. It sent shivers down your body, the way his childish voice faded. As if a switch inside him just clicked.
"I know, Brahms, but I think it's for the best.", you smiled at him sweetly, finally deciding what clothes to wear, "And it'll be just for one evening."
Brahms felt anxiety rise in the pit of his stomach like bile. No. You couldn't go. He didn't want you to. His parents went away too, and they never came back.
"I don't want you to go.", this time it was louder, more rushed, more panicked. Brahms knuckles had turned white from holding onto the door frame.
"Brahms,", you sighed quietly, swiftly putting on your pants, "I know this seems scary to you, but it'll be fine."
The way you kept insisting that you'd go made him swallow harshly. Even just the idea of having to stay here alone, knowing you'd leave him, made him feel sick and hopeless inside. His stomach churned.
No, he wouldn't let you leave.
"I'm not scared,", Brahms shook his head vehemently, making the dark brown locks dance in front of his face, "I just don't want you to go."
You rolled your eyes at him, swiftly putting the clothes back into your dresser. Did he always have to be such a child? You understood the whole trauma, commitment issue thing, but god, it was annoying sometimes. He was a grown man after all, he should be able to stay alone for a few hours.
"Brahms, I will go.", you stated with a curt nod in his direction, "It's just one evening, I'm sure you'll survive."
Another eye roll from you accompanied the statement. This conversation was not what you wanted before leaving the house, even if a small part of you knew you'd had to face this the second you accepted the offer.
Something clicked inside the man in front of you at the sight of you being so careless about all of this. Did you even care about his feelings in this whole situation? You loved him, didn't you? Then why be so cold about all of this? Maybe you wanted to leave him, you wanted to be with someone else, betray him, and everything he felt for you. Jealousy seeped into hos system, clouding his thoughts.
"I said no.", he yelled, moving in front of you, blocking the door with his body.
He was huge as he loomed over you, and even though you trusted him with your life, you flinched back a little, intimidated by his size. He was breathing heavily, chest heaving while hot air hit you through the holes of his mask.
"Brahms.", every bit of warmth had left your voice, and you pressed your hands against your hips, sending a cold stare to the man in front of you. You had enough.
But the brunette just kept breathing heavily, never once breaking eye contact. His gaze would've scared you if he didn't behave so childishly. Just like always.
The two of you kept looking at each other, eyes fighting a war one could never express with words. Just as Brahms was about to give in, ready to cling to you if that meant you staying, the deafening ringing of the doorbell echoed through the large, empty house.
Both of your heads snapped towards the big entrance door, temporarily forgetting about the tension in the room beforehand. You sent one glance back to Brahms, and before he could react, pushed yourself through the gap between him and the door, leaving him behind. What a mistake.
Brahms stared at his hands for a few seconds, in disbelief, before his eyes followed your form marching down the stairs.
His vision turned red with rage. How could you. How did you dare.
With his stare never once leaving you, he started steering towards you. It felt like his sight was restricted, the only thing he perceived a tunnel vision and at the end of it, you.
And you came closer and closer as he followed you, your body now nearly in reach.
Like in a trance, the brunette noticed his heartbeat throbbing in his ears, as well with a sharp, piercing beeping that made his skin tingle.
One of his hands got a hold of your arm, and with a strength he didn't look like he possessed, he pulled you back against him.
You wouldn't leave. You'd never, ever leave. He'd make sure of it, even if it meant he'd have to chain you to the bed.
You, however, grew furious as soon as you felt his skin on yours and with one sharp push, you shoved the man away from you and against the banister. Brahms yelped as his spine hit the sharp edge of the wood, but right now, you couldn't care less.
"Touch me again, and I'll leave and never-", your voice was dripping pure venom, eyes shooting ice-cold daggers at the man in front of you, "-ever come back."
That was the final straw, the final statement.
With a grunt and a loud, final "No!", Brahms forced you away from him. His strong arms pushed you back as he stepped forward, locks sticking to the sweat on his neck.
He saw you fall as if someone froze time. The way your foot missed the step, the way your eyes widened as you stumbled backwards, arms fishing around the air, searching, hoping, for something that could catch your fall. Your pretty mouth opened in a scream, you tried to grab the wooden railing next to you but failed as your body flew back without you having any control.
A loud, sickening crack filled the open lobby like a gunshot, and then it was silent. Dead silent. Brahms noticed that the doorbell stopped. The bitch must've realized that no one was coming.
Brahms took a deep breath, swallowing blood he didn't know he had in his mouth as he glanced down the staircase. He didn't see nor hear you. Anxiety filled his brain, earlier rage swept away as if he'd forgotten about it.
"...Y/n?", he whispered, voice suddenly small and high-pitched again, filled with fear. He didn't mean it, he didn't mean it, oh lord, he didn't mean it. He hoped you wouldn't be angry.
"Y/n? I'm sorry.", Brahms took a few small steps down the stairs, hands gripping the railing as if he'd fall when he'd let go. A few more steps, and he saw your leg behind one of the banisters, unmoving.
A few more steps and your torso came into view pressed into the carpet of the staircase.
"Y/n...?", Brahms didn't know why he was talking so quietly. He didn't know what was going on at all. He just wanted you to stay with him and now- he swallowed harshly.
A few more steps and he saw it. Your head had hit the floor on your fall down, breaking your neck on impact. Blood pooled around the skull, face sickly twisted and contorted as your skin had moved to give space to your moving bones. Dead, cold eyes stared up at him, lidded and filled with... fear.
The masked man moved closer, slowly and quietly, as he looked down at you. A few seconds later and he was kneeling on the ground, gently reaching out to touch your cheek. It was warm but felt weird, like a doll, like dough. It scared him, even if he didn't know why.
"Y/n...", the killer softly petted your cheek smearing a bit of blood over your skin during the process, "M'sorry. Just didn't want you to leave."
His voice was small and scared, like a child apologizing for eating too much candy, or breaking Mother's favorite vase.
Brahms anxiously waited for an answer. When he didn't get one, he stood up, slowly moving backwards. What was he going to do now?
"I'll wait upstairs, okay?"
No answer.
"I am sorry, Y/n.", the corners of his mouth pulled down like a giant, exaggerated pout. He looked a child. A child stuck in the body of a grown man.
Brahms slowly made his way upstairs, softly trudging over the carpet.
It was still deathly silent in the lobby, the only noise came from the big clock, ticking away in the corner.
As soon as Brahms reached the end of the stairs, he looked down one more time, hoping to see your face follow him, your sweet voice call out for him, but nothing moved.
Sighing, he made his way to his room, hoping that even though this time, he'd made a grave mistake, you'd still forgive him. After all, you loved him, right?
AN: I love the idea of Brahms not understanding death and "falling back" into his childish self because of it. I thought it fits well. I'd love to hear your opinions though.
Black lives matter, what happened with this idea. The whole point was to stop racism and make race equality.
BUT What we see now??? Broken statues, vandalism and more... People from BLM, What happened with you??!! From peaceful protest half of you became killers and robbers. People are scared of you, if you hate Police why are you attack random people? Because of your actions racism will only grow and it will bad. YES, some Policemans are bad, but not all of them.
I will say it
Black People changed places with White people. WHY ARE YOU ATTACKING CITIZENS??? WHY ARE ATTACKING RANDOM WHITE PEOPLE?!?! You broke the whole point of Protests
Im scared, people die because of protests. Violence is everywhere.
RIGHT NOW ILL SAY: ALL LIVES MATTER!!! ALL!!!
In that moment of beauty.
I remember that night. You on your knees, The tile floor. Braced against the toilet. Thin strands of hair across your face. Blood tinged bottom lip. A helpless look in your eyes. And I kissed you. In that very moment, full throws of beauty. I kissed you. I kissed ...
En México tenemos una cultura rica en referencias a la muerte a menudo caricaturizada, calaquitas sonrientes nos recuerdan a quienes han partido como un acto de amor, conciliando así en ciclo de la vida. Sin embargo la muerte cada vez está más presente en su forma cruel, violenta y despiadada: la narcocultura. Una doctrina donde el miedo es el tipo de cambio y las balas su moneda. Muchas personas desde infantes son absorbides en la idiosincrasia de la decapitación y la violación. Nuestro número ha devaluado la vida. El sadismo es nuestra realidad, mujeres son tiradas a diario en avenidas, zanjas o baldíos muchas incluso hasta destazadas. Somos carne de cañón. Cuerpos cuelgan en todo el país adornando el paisaje macabro, vivimos la muerte inminente burlándonos de la vida. . . . "México picado" Acuarela sobre papel de algodón. 56 x 76 cm. . . . . . #contemporarywatercolour #papelpicado #feminicide #violence #narcos #Acuarela #acuarelacontemporanea #newnarrative #mosaic #amapolas #field #art_spotlight #landscape #artwork #figurative #corpse #guns #bullets #aquarelle #isaacCM (en Tepito) https://www.instagram.com/p/BppLB9aAEdj/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=nurl3lpyzkyd
His little Mate
Summary: An odd girl, Silver's somehow different than anyone else in Derry, and her life's about to get much more complicated. With children going missing, bullies in every corner and new friends, she'll have to gather enough courage to survive the summer that's coming, and the choice that must be made, if not by her then by another. Rating may change later. Also struggled to pick the genre.
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Chapter 1
Footsteps and laughter echoed in the Denbrough home as seven year old George Denbrough ran into his older brother's room. It was absolutely pouring down and Bill was sick with the flu, but he'd promised to make Georgie a boat he could take outside and play with. Georgie's face had lit up and he nodded with a large grin, staring out of the window and into the distance as Bill made the boat with some paper from his notebook, old newspaper and some tape. He could hear the crinkling of the paper as it was folded again and again until at last, there it was. Bill grabbed a thick black pen and wrote S S Georgie on the side. "Now, g-go t-t-to t-the cellar a-a-and get m-me the p-p-paraffin w-wax."
"What's that?"
"I-it will a-a-allow t-the boat t-to f-float."
"Okay." He rushed obediently to get the wax, eager to get going. He passed his mother in the lounge. She was playing the piano. Georgie was careful not to disturb her, creeping past the doorway and down the cellar. The wax was on the shelf just as Billy said it was, but something was...off. Georgie hated the cellar. It was large and dark - the perfect place for monsters to hide in, which was ridiculous because both his parents and more importantly, Bill and Silver, said there were no such things as monsters. No such thing as monsters. It was something he kept reminding himself of. Yet, as he picked up the wax, there was a noise that made him almost jump out of his skin, his heart racing in his chest. He spun around, his torch shaking in his hand as he tried to find the source - a pair of glowing lights staring at him in the dark. His eyes widened in fear, but he stayed where he was, his free hand going for the light switch. The light turned on, his shoulders slumped in relief at the sight of the "glowing lights", which were nothing but two torches lying side by side on the shelf.
He giggled and ran up the stairs, walkie talkie in one hand and the wax in the other. He had to put one down in order to turn off the light and shut the door, picking it back up after and running back to Bill. It never occurred to Georgie that the two torches couldn't have possibly been responsible for the glowing lights in the Cellar, as they were both off at the time. If it had, his fear would have returned and he probably would have questioned it further. It only took about five more minutes to finish the boat, grab his bright yellow raincoat and green wellies and rush out of the door. Rain pelted down on him as he stopped at the end of the driveway and turned to wave to his brother in the top window. "Bye, Billy!" He didn't bother to respond when he heard Bill's voice on the walkie talkie, warning him to be careful. It was slowly getting dark, it was pouring down and there was not another soul in sight, but Georgie didn't mind as he placed his boat down in the water next to the curb and began chasing after it in glee. If Bill Denbrough knew that was the last thing Georgie would ever say to him, and the last time he ever saw his brother, he would have done something, anything.
But he didn't. And Bill Denbrough never saw his brother again.
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For being October, the weather wasn't as cold as you would have expected. It was just raining. Georgie laughed loudly, jumping in puddles as he ran down his street onto Witcham Street. The boat was yards in front of him. Georgie was so busy keeping an eye on it that he forgot to keep an eye on where he was going. He slammed into one of the road signs with a loud "Oof!", landing on his back. Unfortunately, this allowed the boat to pull even more ahead, something he noticed. He shot to his feet, running faster than before. But the water was running too fast, and his boat ended up going down one of the storm drains. "NO!" He lunged at the boat but missed by a few seconds. "No." He crouched down, uncaring whether he got his clothes soaking wet or not, and peered in despite knowing it was a lost cause. "Bill's gonna kill me."
Georgie switched positions so he was on his hands and knees and ducked his head a little more. But it was dark; too dark too see anything. It didn't help that the water going into the drain sounded almost like a hollow waterfall. He was about to leave when a pair of amber eyes opened suddenly and stared straight at him. He screamed, jerking back.
"Hiya, Georgie."
The voice was sweet, soft and somewhat high pitched, yet he had a feeling it came from a male rather than a female. The voice moved closer to him until he was able to see who - or rather, what, it was. It was a man dressed as a clown. He couldn't make out all of the clown's features but he noticed it was chalk white with rather plump cherry lips and a painted red nose instead of one of those stupid red noses clowns usually used and a ruffled costume.
Hold on, I thought they were amber. I'm sure they were amber a moment ago.
But who the hell has amber eyes? And yet, the eyes Georgie swore were amber moments ago, were a bright sky blue - the same colour as his mother's. In his white gloved hand, he held up Georgie's paper boat. What was a clown doing in the sewers?
"What a nice boat. Do you want it back?"
"Um, yes please."
"You look like a nice boy," he whispered. "I bet you have a lot of friends."
"Three, but my brother's my best, best."
"Where is he?"
The question revealed the clowns two rabbit like teeth that Georgie thought was kind of adorable.
"In bed, sick."
Good. That makes things easier.
"And I have a sister. She's older than us."
Well, she's not really my sister, but close enough.
"Her name's Silver because of her silver hair. But some call her the silver dragon because she can be fierce and terrifying sometimes. She says dragons are territorial. They're supposed to be possessive and protective over their things - things they claim as their treasure. That's why my brother and his friends call her the silver dragon. She also said you don't have to be blood family to be family. You may not be able to choose your blood family, but you can damn well pick the family you choose to have around you."
"That's very wise of her. Very wise indeed."
"I know. She very smart."
"And where is she?"
"Um, I don't know. She's probably at home if she hasn't had a craving and gone to the store to fix it. She get's craving all the time. I remember she once said something about them being bad, but if she were pregnant, they'd be a lot worse."
"And is she?"
"Is she what?"
"Pregnant? I could give her a present to welcome the new baby. I could give her a balloon. Do you want a balloon too, Georgie?"
"She's not pregnant. She's only a teenager. She's too young for that stuff. Everyone else says so. And I'm not supposed to take stuff from strangers."
"Oh, well, I'm Pennywise the dancing clown," bells jingled as he jerked his head abruptly at the word 'dancing'. "Pennywise, yes, meet Georgie. Georgie meet Pennywise." His hand pointed between the two of them upon introductions. Georgie let out a soft laugh. "Now we aren't strangers, are we?"
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Georgie knew something was wrong. But he let it go because this clown was funny and friendly, and there was no danger as far as he could see. He barely heard the door of the house in front of him, open. He didn't see the old woman come out, pulling the blinds up. But she noticed him. She pulled her coat tighter around her and ran back inside. "What are you doing in the sewer?"
"The storm blew me away. Blew the whole circus away," he chuckled with a grin. His grin faded as he regarded him with a slightly more series expression. Even more of the clowns face was revealed enough for Georgie to see the two red painted lines going from either side of the end of his top lip to underneath his eyes. His teeth were too large because he was drooling badly. "Can you smell the Circus, Georgie?" Now that he thought about it, he could smell something. And he swore he heard voices of children softly singing. "There's peanuts...cotton candy...hot dogs aaaaand...?"
"Popcorn?"
"Popcorn! Is that your favourite?"
"Uh huh."
"Mine too," Pennywise laughed, his grin returning, "because they pop. Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop!"
Georgie laughed joining in until he suddenly stopped. Georgie did too. Pennywise stared at him with such intensity, it made Georgie uncomfortable. He needed to get home anyway; the rain wasn't letting up anytime soon and his family would no doubt be worried about him by now, and he didn't want to get sick like Bill. They'd want him home, and truthfully, Georgie had enough with playing outside. He was cold, tired and soaking wet. All he wanted to do now was go home, get dry and changed and maybe have something to eat. It must be close to dinner time by now anyway. It was the perfect excuse to leave. "I should get going now."
"Oh, without your boat?"
He once again held up Bill's boat. But this time, Georgie was hesitant. The bad feeling from earlier was back and it was growing stronger every second. Then he remembered what Silver once told him.
Always trust your instincts. They'll never steer you wrong. If you have a bad feeling, it's because something's wrong and your instincts are trying to warn you. Don't ever ignore it.
The clown obviously noticed his uncertainty, because his next words were the reason Georgie made the biggest mistake of his life. A mistake in which he dearly regretted making, having wished in the next few minutes that he had listened to Silver's warning instead. But he didn't.
"You don't wanna lose it, Georgie. Bill's gonna kill you."
He has a point. I don't want Billy to kill me or get angry for losing it.
Pennywise's mouth twitched upwards- something Georgie failed to notice and he stared thoughtfully at his boat. "Here. Take it," Pennywise offered, emphasizing the word 'it'. "When Georgie didn't immediately go for it, he tilted his head and said, "Take it, Georgie." His hand rose a little, and Georgie found himself getting closer. The boat was just inside the drain - close enough to reach out and quickly pluck. But Georgie didn't want to be rude, so he reached in instead. He had almost got it when Pennywise pulled his hand back, forcing him to shuffle forward more so his hand could reach even further.
If Georgie had listened to Silver or if he had been focusing on the clown's face, he would have realised the wrong feeling was because of It. Unfortunately, he was so focused on getting his boat back, he never noticed the clowns eyes turning from blue to amber, indicating his earlier thoughts about It were in fact, correct. Once he was close enough, he grabbed Georgie by the wrist, his buck teeth transforming from something cute and adorable to anyone's worst nightmare. Rows or incredible sharp teeth that reminded Georgie of a Dinosaur or a Dragon, grew, and he opened his mouth wide - wider than possible- and bit down on his arm. Georgie let out a loud scream as he instinctively fought against his attacker. Whether it let him go or not, didn't matter. White hot pain shot through his arm and through the rest of his body. Georgie found himself on his stomach not far from the storm drain. At first, he was relieved, but when he looked down at his arm, it was gone. Blood poured out of the wound, mixing with the rain as he tried crawling away. Shock hadn't yet settle in, his wound and the agony crippled him enough that he couldn't just get up and run, giving that thing the advantage.
Unseen by him, a gloved hand crept out of the drain, stretching to an impossible length and grabbed him by the ankle. Georgie felt himself being pulled and knew it was that thing. Terror gripped him tight as he tried and failed to find anything to hold onto. He gave one final cry of, "SILVER!" before he was pulled down the drain. He missed the woman from before, rushing out after hearing his screams, only to see blood and water but no child. The only thing he knew upon being dragged down was yet more agony then nothing.
Georgie Denbrough's last thought, besides wishing either Silver or Bill were there to save him, was that Silver was wrong; monsters were in fact, real.