party-powder

The Horror Genre, Goth Subculture, and Friday the 13th

So, there’s already a post about superstitions and bad luck, but what about the people who take negative superstitions and it make their aesthetic?

Like, Planetary Cruiser XJ9-7 - known as “Adventure” - gets a new human crew member, a scientist of the highest order, a particle physicist calculating their engine thrust. Her name is Amber and she is the living embodiment of lace goth, wears a frilly black dresses with skull accessories, carries around a voodoo doll seemingly for the fun of it. She walks into the ship and starts the allowed personalization of her work and sleeping spaces by adding a skull to her workspace, hanging pentacles over her bed, laying crystals on her shelves and ordering them not to be moved, and putting gruesome posters of movie and book monsters over her walls.

The non-humans onboard Adventure are immediately concerned, and the captain consults the ship’s human sociologist, on staff for just such situations.

“Gah'veen,” Kathro'o warbles. Xe drops xerself in the chair-like pedestal that stood in the front of Gavin’s desk. “There have been …. comments about our new engineer.”

“What sort of comments?” Gavin asks. He hasn’t seen the new engineer and knows next to nothing about her except her credentials for the position. But he’s never encountered someone who shook up a crew so badly that there were complains before they even left the port.

“This human appears to worship misfortune and death. She dressed in the garb of mourning when outside her uniform. She placed a replica of a human skull on her workstation. Her quarters are filled with images referencing death and … and … I do not have the word for them, those imaginary predators that stalk humans in your traditional story-telling.”

“Monsters,” Gavin chuckles.

“Monsters! Yes! With mouths wet with human blood, standing over the mangled bodies of their unfortunate prey!”

Gavin snorts in a bad attempt to swallow laughter. “You really don’t have the concept of monsters on Eilu'ublen.”

“Of course not!” Kathro'o shouts, xer warble suddenly loud enough to hurt Gavin’s ears. Xe clicks xer mandibles in a sign of embarrassment before going on at a more reasonable volume. “There is plenty in the galaxy that can kill you in horrible ways. Only humans make up fictitious ones to add to the list.”

“Many humans find it fun,” Gavin answered casually.

“Fun?” Kathro'o face become pinched and sunken - no doubt because the blood was draining from xer face.

“It’s just … how do I put this? Aesthetic. It simply looks interesting to her, I’m sure. Some people even find stuff like that comforting.”

“Her omens and images of misfortune and death are meant to bring emotional comfort?” Kathro'o voice rattles hollowly behind xer chest plate, and xer eyes are tiny pinpoints of red set deep in xer face.

Gavin clears his throat. “Look, captain, I’ll tell the new girl to go easy on the Addams Family stuff until we can pass around some material on goth culture. In the meantime, I’m going to call the infirmary to come get you. You’re in mid-stage shock, and any longer without medical care and there might be long-term damage.”

“I … yes. That sounds … nice. Thanks to you, Gah'veen.”

They have to haul the captain to the infirmary for anti-shock treatment. Xe and the rest of crew give Amber a wide breadth, and she seems to allow that for a while. Then one day she sends Kathro'o back into the infirmary for more shock treatment by passing out treats from each crewmen’s homeland with little culturally appropriate symbols of bad luck om them. Xe’s halfway through a cycle of anti-shock drugs when Amber, in a floor-length black gown trimmed with black lace, and miniature top hat adorned with a tiny skull-and-crossbones, comes sweeping up to his bed and sits down next to him.

“Hello, Captain!” she chirps, and her cheerfulness is as bright as her chosen ensemble is dark. “I came with a gift for you!” She reaches into the black wicker basket hanging off her arm and pulls out a tiny paper bag.

The bag is a dark purple, the same eerie shade that Eilu'ublese’s exoskeletons turn when they die. On the front is Kathro’o’s name - written in careful, almost juvenile, Eilu'ublese - in powder pink lines, xe’s favorite color. Xe looks from the offering to the offeror and back again, then reluctantly reaches out xer hand for it.

Inside the bag is another, smaller, clear plastic bag filled to bursting with ifora, small cookie-like treats that are as delicious – especially to Eilu’ublese – as they are difficult to make. They’re an expensive treat around the galaxy because it takes years of culinary training to make them correctly. They’re Kathro’o single favorite thing to eat.

“How did you …?”

“They were the most expensive thing I bought, but the look on your face right now is well worth the money!” Amber beams.

They sit a while, chatting as Kathro’o finishes his treatments and gets through half the bag of ifora. As they’re walking away from the infirmary, xe finally just asks the question that’s been bothering xer.

“Am’burr. You are a great scientific mind, and very charming, and even I can see how beautiful you are.”

“You think I’m beautiful!?” Amber squeaks and turns red.

“Yes! Of course. But I don’t understand why you surround yourself with omens and death and evil.”

“Oh. The goth thing. Gavin told me it was freaking people out. That’s why I’ve been taking today to explain it. For me, it’s power. I wasn’t well liked in high school; I felt like an outcast. For me, it felt powerful to take my undesirableness and make it an amour. To feel proud of being different and strange instead of being ashamed of it. It felt cool to be badass.”

“I know this human term, “badass.” It evokes the power to control and live in situations and activates that the weaker of your peers could not handle.”

“Exactly. I wasn’t pretty, or popular, or cool. But I was strong, and scary, and not to be messed with. Besides, there is power in taking what scares you and making it something to seek out. It robs that things of its control over you, and lets you control it.”

“I understand. On Eilu'ublen, we have a similar concept called aurceth, meaning thriving on what kills others. Traveling between the stars, living one’s life in a ship jettisoning through the cold hostile blackness, living among people with almost nothing in common with oneself, even their biology, it takes aurceth.”

“Yep. You and me, Kathro’o, we’re badasses.”

“That we are, Am’burr. By the way, why today? Why all the work, the money spent, the effort?”

“I have a clock that tells me the date and time of my hometown, where my parents still live. Back there, it’s a Friday, and the thirteenth day of the month.”

“I have heard of Fur’eyday the 13th! There’s movie based on the lore!”

“Yep. What better day than the unluckiest of them, to make rounds and spread some cheer?!”

Kathro’o laughs deep in xer chest plate, an excited rumble that bounces off the walls of the hallway. “Excellent! Let us spread cheer, on this inauspicious of days so that the bad luck cannot touch us.”

Amber links her arm through xers and grins, and off they go.

After that, Kathro’o and Amber are best friends. Kathro’o is the first Eilu’ublese goth. Xe introduces the concept of monsters and the horror genre to the Eilu’ublese mainstream as his ship gains renown in its travels, and he and his unique Eilu’ublese take on goth culture become more well know. A Terran decade after that first Friday the 13th, Amber and Kathro’o marry on the observation deck of Adventure. They and their entire wedding party wear black with powder pink accents.

It makes me happy to think that Prince Adam looked at himself in the mirror and said that he was hot and ready for the party that evening.

Face powdered to oblivion? Check

The colors of France’s flag haphazardly painted on his eyelids? Check

Mole!?!?! Check

Ego buffed and shined as his high heeled shoes? Checked since birth

BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN(2005) SENTENCE STARTERS
  • I wish I knew how to quit you. 
  • ____, I swear…
  • Tell you what… the truth is… sometimes I miss you so much I can hardly stand it.
  • C'mon now, you’re sleepin’ on your feet like a horse.
  • Hell, that’s the most I’ve spoke in a year.
  • We can get together… once in a while, way the hell out in the middle of nowhere, but…
  • Ya know it could be like this, just like this always.
  • Anything interesting up there in heaven?
  • There ain’t never enough time, never enough…
  • You know, your friend could come inside, have a cup of coffee…
  • This is a one-shot thing we got goin’ on here.
  • It’s nobody’s business but ours.
  • Bottom line is… we’re around each other an’… this thing, it grabs hold of us again… at the wrong place… at the wrong time… and we’re dead.
  • You wanna live your miserable fuckin’ life, then go right ahead.
  • Swear I didn’t know we were gonna get into this again.
  • Hell, yes I did; red-lined it all the way, couldn’t get here fast enough.
  • Speak for yourself. You may be a sinner, but I ain’t yet had the opportunity.
  • Yeah, well… if you got nothin’, you don’t need nothin’.
  • You know what, friend? This is a goddamn bitch of an unsatisfactory situation.
  • it was probably some pretend place, where bluebirds sing and there’s a whiskey spring…
  • This is my house, this is my child, and you are my guest. And you sit down before I knock your ignorant ass into next week!
  • You don’t think I’m too fast, do you? Maybe we should put the brakes on?
  • We outta go down there some weekend. Drink a little whiskey, fish some, get away. You know?
  • If you don’t want no more o’ my kids, I’ll be happy to just leave you alone.
  • How about it? You wanna lose about half your fuckin’ teeth? Huh?
  • What you waitin’ for, cowboy? A matin’ call?
  • You may kiss the bride - and if you don’t, I will.
  • Ever notice how a woman’ll powder her nose before a party starts, and the powder it again when the party’s over? Why powder your nose just to go home to bed? 

anonymous asked:

(sirensummer) (@ in post please) 👊 in the gut during a mosh pit

@sirensummer

Up until now, Rick had been having the time of his goddamn life.

The last couple of hours had passed in an indistinguishable blur of party liquor and powdered substances arranged in neat lines that complemented the excitement of being caught up in a vortex of sweaty bodies pressed close, wildly thrashing in time to an infectious beat. The speakers vibrated under the bass, his head felt like it was full of cotton, and all things considered, Rick figured that he really couldn’t have chosen a better place to get high and let his self control lapse. It felt just like the good old days.

In fact, he’d become so accustomed and confident, so comfortable in his environment that he figured, hey, why /not/ step into the heart of the growing mosh pit and exchange a few blows?
Yeah. It’d /seemed/ like a good idea, right up until –

Until a balled fist swung out of the morphing wall of people and drove knuckles squarely in his solar plexus.

“–OOF!” He wheezed as the breath was subsequently forced from his lungs in one huff, eyes going crossed and spittle flying forth from his limp lips. It took him brutally off guard, destroyed the safety of his enjoyable buzz and wiped the grin right off of his face, going as far as to buckle knees and send Rick toppling to the dance floor in a heap of pitifully breathless old man.

“Hhhoooh!” He struggled for air, clutching his stomach in stitches. “Hhhhhurghhhhholy shit-!“ He gasped, squinting up at a /blue haired/ figure looming above him through tears. “Oof ow ooh, m-my bones!“

What is my Fibro like?

Most days it is like someone is sticking needles into all my joints, 

 someone is taking my muscles and wringing them out like a wet towel,

 hitting me over the head with a hammer,

shining lights in my eyes, 

spinning me around and around like I’m about to play with a pinata at a party,

itch powder being put in my clothes as a prank,

being so confused it’s like people are speaking a foreign language to me,

 feeling my joints grind in my knees and hips whenever they move, 

feeling many of my joints swell up and get harder to move as I use them, or as a storm is coming,

feeling like I’m constantly having heart palpitations, 

Depression,

Anxiety over whether it could get worse,

and so much more,



And it getting so Much worse on a flare up day, this is a normal day for me


*Experiences vary for every person with Fibro, this is just my experience.

earaches  asked:

sometimes i crunch up my jizz when it dries and i bring the white powder to parties and watch as everyone snorts my cock sand

you assholes cant go one day without saying shit like this its christmas for gods sake

anonymous asked:

You: *sees cocaine at a party* is that translucent powder? I love translucent powder, my favorite one is by Tarte, I get it a Sephora! :)

IM SCREAMING