Sometimes writing fanfiction feels so embarrassing because it's like screaming from the rooftops that I care so much about seeing these two non-existent people from someone else's stories cuddle and exchange a quiet conversation that I literally wrote out out a vividly detailed fantasy about it. And that I also wanted to see them crying and covered in their own blood to get them there. So I described that in excruciating detail too
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If Jason’s learned anything living on the streets, it’s that if something seems too good to be true, it probably is.
Like that time he found an entire queen-size mattress in a dumpster outside of the apartment building he and his mom were squatting in and dragged it home, only to discover that it was crawling with lice. Or the time when he agreed to watch some drug dealer’s car overnight for twenty bucks and ended up smack dab in the middle of some kind of gang war. Or the time when he came across a nearly full take-out container of still-warm shrimp alfredo sitting abandoned on a park bench, then spent the next 48 hours becoming extremely well-acquainted with every public bathroom in a half-mile radius.
Anyway, by the time Jason stumbles across a shiny black speedster abandoned in one of Park Row’s many sketchy alleyways, chrome rims gleaming in the moonlight, you’d think he’d have the sense to know too-good-to-be-true when he sees it.
Fuck it. He’s always been an optimist.
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I want ya’ll to remember Camp half-blood was a summer camp. Meaning many of the children that died in the battle of Manhattan had families and friends in the outside world to whom they will never return to.
Like imagine one summer you’re kissing goodbye to your mother and playing fighting with your brother and the next you don’t even know it but they’re weeping and sobbing at your funeral.
Imagine you’re saying goodbye to your best friend for the last time without even knowing it.
Imagine Chrion having to tell every single family what happened to their child. How they were awfully slaughtered by monsters that weren’t even meant to hurt them and yes their godly parents. Imagine the amount of pressure.
God I just know that if I were the father of one of those children I would never get over how utterly disgusting and unfair the whole thing was. Those children deserved better.
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It's all about Nagi living alone in a tiny one bedroom, one bathroom apartment with zero personality and Reo having a whole floor for himself but still living surrounded by tacky-expensive home decor with no apparent traces of his actual personality, either. It's all about how Nagi's parents haven't visited him in 2 years nor taken an interest in his life since, while Reo's are content to live floors apart from their teenage son, only taking an interest in what value he can bring to Mikage Corp but being otherwise uninvolved in / dismissive of his actual life. It's all about them being surrounded by people and still not knowing how to form a meaningful connection with another person before meeting each other. It's all about them being so starved for genuine human warmth to combat their bone-deep loneliness that they both treasure memories of tiny, inconsequential moments where they were spending time with their parents. Something something it's this line,
and how it describes them both despite being said about Reo. It's them being awkward 17-year-olds who had never before had an equal who would just respect them as they are and unconditionally look their way. In this essay I will-
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I thought it was hilarious, at first, that everyone’s decided Doomguy is still the protagonist of MyHouse.wad. After all, it doesn’t really have much more to do with Doom than gmod has to do with Half-Life 2. But then I remembered, isn’t that a plot point of Doom II? Visiting the burnt out ruins of your hometown on your way to the portal to Hell? Why couldn’t Doomguy take a few minutes to have a nightmare of an emotional journey in a childhood friend’s home to come to terms with everyone and everything he ever loved being destroyed?
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