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pigeonwit · 9 months

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ok but like jack who loveeeess when hes under the weight of something, he sleeps with like four hundred stuffed animals weighted blankets are his jam, etc etc, and then davey comes along and just flat out sleeps on top of him 24/7. its a win for both of them. (sorry if this isn’t coherent im literally asleep)

(sneep i dont know if you're referencing the prompts list at all or if it was just deeply important to you that i know this but i'm writing about it anyways)

It's hard for Jack to keep his feet on the ground sometimes.

He can't quite put it into words. He's not really a words guy. It took him about a year and a half post-American-public-school-system to realize that he was actually smart enough to read books, let alone echo them. Colours, that's where Jack's mind lives. A big swirling sea of shapes and colours. Sometimes it's calm; the gentle blue strokes of a calm, well-rested morning; the occasional pops and starbursts of the New York streets - a baby babbling at their parents, a dog yipping excitedly, a song that's been stuck in Jack's head drifting out of the cracked window of a passing car - all painted in pretty pinks and bright, sunny yellows. He's nowhere near whimsical or delusional enough for the happy-go-lucky "where dreams are made of" view of NYC, the one that's been washed over in watery-pink with Gershwin plunking in the background - but he's not nihilistic enough to pretend it's nothing more than a tar-pit. There's plenty to love, to be inspired over, to leave happy little brushstrokes on his skin.

But sometimes - sometimes - he gets too swept up in it. All the movement, all the noise, all of it, it picks him up by the scruff and throws him, spins him around and kicks him right between the ribs, until he's drifting listlessly along the sidewalk like a scrap of paper, small and sensitive, marked by every fume of exhaust and drop of gutter-water.

It's the difference between being painted and being stained. That's the only way Jack can describe it. Paint, colours, it has a purpose to it. It presses into his skin and keeps him grounded to reality. A stain is just... Nothing. A tear, a black hole of graphite in his chest, sucking up all his being until there's nothing left.

He needs solidity, when he gets like this. He needs to be held in place until all that old, wasted paper is rubbed away, and he can grow into himself again, fresh and newly remade.

It starts with a pillow. His first night at Medda's - she gave him two instead of just one. He'd no idea what to do with it. He only needed one or else his head felt too high, and he didn't want to just chuck it on the floor or stuff it in his closet, Miss Medda might think he was rude, and he liked Miss Medda, he didn't want her to think he was a bad kid, she might get angry, might give him back... And then he was panting, trembling with every inch, tears stinging at his eyes as he tried to press his nails into his palm, hold himself together, but nothing was working, nothing was firm enough-

It was humiliating - as humiliating as everything else is for an eleven year old, but still, humiliating - to go to sleep that night, clutching a pillow to his chest as he squeezed with all his little might. But it pressed his lungs into the mattress, forced the air in and out, and the foam held tight against his sharp, scrabbling hands, not breaking, not pushing him away... It was just enough.

He almost would've been content with just that, hugging a pillow every now and then - but Medda and Siôn had this whole thing about 'making Jack understand his worth as a person', the nerve, and suddenly he was being given all he needed and more. A plushie, then two, then five. A throw pillow with Val Kilmer's face on it, because Siôn ("Just fucking call me Crutchie, dude, I won't break-") was just as much a cretin when he was a teenager than he is now. A weighted blanket for his birthday that redefined Jack's understanding of the word comfort.

And that could've been enough. It all could've been enough. Fuck, just a hug every couple of days would've been enough. It was certainly more than he'd earned.

He'd offhandedly said something along those lines to Davey - or "Library Guy" as he'd been referred to at the time, since Jack had only really met him three times in two weeks - who had calmly raised a finger, taken a long swig of his coffee, slammed his travel mug (reusable, of course, because Davey is the world's most irritatingly perfect saint) on his desk and given Jack a seventeen minute speech about humanity's relationship with validation through the lens of a capitalistic society - and all of a sudden, Jack wanted everything. Coffee. Dinner. Pet-names, hand-holding, lazy Sundays, teasing each other when they woke up and talking about bullshit until they fell asleep. And Davey gave him all of it without a second glance.

Jack was hesitant to ask, at first. They'd fallen asleep on the couch - they were supposed to be studying, but Davey had found out Jack had never watched any of the Lord of The Rings movies and had spent the entire evening pausing every five minutes to eagerly share his Silmarillion trivia (Jack still hasn't gotten him to admit it yet, but he's pretty sure he can pinpoint Davey falling in love with him to the moment Jack asked why Viggo Mortensen kicking a helmet was so funny to him) - and they'd inevitably fallen asleep on top of each other, with Jack flat on his back and Davey splayed over him like the world's sweetest, sleepiest octopus.

("You really know how to make a guy feel hot, y'know that?"

"Bold of you to assume octopuses are not hot. Tentacle porn exists for a reason, Dave."

"See, I want to be mad at you for bringing up tentacle porn at brunch, but I'm more offended that you called them octopuses and not octopi.")

It was nice, having Davey over him - which, yes, got him some eyebrow waggles when he first admitted it, but it really wasn't like that. It was the weight of it, the reassurance of Davey's warmth encompassing his own, knowing that Davey was here, and he was here, pressed down firmly to the ground and not going anywhere. The sensation of it - the firmness on his chest that makes him feel every breath and every beat of his pulse, that tells him he's here and he's fine - it's like his whole brain's been washed clean.

"Pressure stimming," is the word Davey uses about two months later, a short while after Jack had finally realized that they were actually, exclusively, undeniably boyfriends and not just 'friends who are kind of maybe dating if Davey wants that maybe'. He'd walked into his bedroom in his and Crutchie's apartment to find Davey already there, lying face down on the bed - and Jack might've left it be, because he's had plenty of days where he just needs to lie face-down for a whole hour, but Davey telling him that he physically couldn't get off the bed was the thing that sent him panicking.

"It's not a big deal..." Davey's forefinger flicks up-and-down, up-and-down against one of Jack's many pillows as he speaks, the way he does when he has just slightly too much nervous energy. "It's just something I need sometimes. The way my energy is, it's like everything I do starts weighing down on me - and sometimes I can just let that weight off every now and then, and I'm fine - but sometimes I just... Need something. To support me."

Jack nods slowly, thinking of pillows and plushies and weighted blankets, and hovers his hand over the small of Davey's back.

"You need something, like... On top?" He cringes, because there's no way for that to not sound like an innuendo, but Davey only snorts into the comforter and shakes his head against the soft fabric.

"You're perfect," he smiles, so earnest that it makes Jack's chest squeeze, "but - no. I don't really like that. Feels like I'm being restrained."

Jack frowns, adds that to the little drawer in his brain marked Davey - a drawer that is becoming so cluttered and full of tiny details and special memories that it's almost overflowing - and bites his lip.

"I could, um..." Slowly, like Jack might spook him, he lowers himself onto the the bed next to him, raising his brows in question. "If you want?"

Davey stares at him for a moment - and then it's as if all the tension in his body just bleeds out of him, as he makes wanton little grabby-hands in Jack's direction. Jack laughs quietly, grabs him gently by the shoulders and pulls, rolling them until he's flat on his back and Davey's spreadeagled on top of him - and they both sigh from somewhere deep in their bones as they lean and are leaned upon, pressing and being pressed against each other, two solid weights supporting each other in place.

"I like this," Jack murmurs into Davey's hair as they rest. Davey makes a quiet chuffing sound into his clavicle and wriggles slightly, like a cat kneading a pillow, pressing them both impossibly closer as he settles.

"Oh, yeah?" He says quietly. "You like having a big octopus on top of you?"

"My exact words were sweetest and sleepiest octopus." Jack teases, tugging lightly on one of Davey's curls. "C'mon, English Major, those're some important words, there."

"You're so weird," Davey mumbles, but Jack can feel his smile pressing through his shirt, all the way to his skin, through the muscle, until it prints like ink on his breastbone. It holds him there, keeps him perfectly still and secure - and Jack breathes like he's tasting the air for the first time.

"I love you," he says quietly, because it's the only way he can even think to put what he's feeling into words. Davey would know better than him on that. He could write sonnets about this, pages and pages of prose about how it feels just to hold someone - but Jack's not a words guy. Give him a few hours with a canvas, and maybe he can get down a fraction of what he's feeling now, the barest impression of the thousands upon thousands of colours dancing inside his head like grass in the wind. But for now, he'll just say "I love you", and hope that it's enough.

He can feel Davey's throat flex against his sternum, can feel the way his body tenses, then ebbs, like the pull of the tide.

"I love you, too," he whispers.

It's so much more than enough.

#this got SO fucking sappy towards the end #but yknow. love is stored in the stimming!#i have a few more asks queued up but they'll have to wait until after tomorrow cause. work.#alas we are all victims of capitalism #newsies #uksies #javid #javey #jack kelly #davey jacobs #david jacobs #pigeon scribbles #sneepsnoopboopideeboop

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zhongrin · 3 months

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crying sobbing they tried to deliver my new laptop literally ONE MINUTE after i left the house like. MY GUY. AT LEAST CALL ME OR SOMETHING. I WOULD HAVE TURNED BACK SO FAST 😭

#rin rambles #i was so looking forward to it today sobsob #ik they'll probably try again tomorrow but like #man #i feel like a whiny brat but i've been waiting for it since last week ;;;;;

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iamthecomet · 9 months

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14 or 20 with Aeon/Dew?

Mmmmmm. Feminized Aeon because the brain rot is bad.

14. "Be a good girl and take it." There are tears pricking at his eyes already. Threatening to spill over. To ruin the make-up Dew so painstakingly applied. Mascara wand in hand, tongue pinned between his teeth in concentration. Aeon coughs, chokes around the press of Dew's cock at the back of his throat. Dew had called him pretty before they started--but he isn't sure he's pretty now. Lipstick smeared across his mouth, all over Dew's cock. Making each rough thrust taste waxy as Dew slips over his tongue, bumps against his tonsils. He's going to think of Dew every time he swallows for the next few days. Aeon holds onto Dew's thighs for dear life--not that it matters. Between Dew's hold in his hair and the snap of his hips, Aeon is powerless against this. He fucking loves it. Loves the ache in his jaw. The slickness of his own drool on his throat. Loves the way Dew is looking at him. Ravenous. Eyes narrowed to flaming slits. Each punched out gasp is Aeon's doing. Each groan. Each stutter of Dew's hips--they're all because of Aeon. Because he's pretty. Because his mouth is-- "So fucking wet. You're such a mess," Dew groans. He loosens his grip in Aeon's hair to stroke gently at his forehead, his cheekbone, his jaw. The soft touch in direct contrast to the roughness Dew fucks his mouth with. Dew tastes like woodsmoke and salt. It's a flavor Aeon wants on his tongue for eternity. To bask in this--in the way Dew leaks like a faucet onto the back of Aeon's tongue. Warm pre dripping down his throat. Aeon doesn't think he's ever been harder. There's a wet spot on his boxers. His balls ache. He keeps his hands to himself anyway. Dew hasn't told him he can touch yet, and he's not going to risk Dew stopping for anything--especially not his own pleasure. Dew's hand slides down, cups Aeon's chin in the space between his thumb and forefinger. Palm pressed lightly over his throat. Dew slows down, presses deep. Shoves in until Aeon's nose is pressed to the tightly trimmed curls at the base of Dew's cock. Smelling sweat and cinnamon and lust. Aeon breathes deep. He tries not to choke, not to gag. But Dew grinds a little harder and Aeon can't help it. Breath catching. A wretched noise breaking through his throat. Dew doesn't pull back, doesn't let up. Aeon doesn't ask him to. Doesn't tap his thighs like he's been taught. He just tries to breathe through the intrusion as Dew presses down on his throat tries to feel himself lodged there. The tears spill now, black messy streaks spilling down his face to run over Dew's lithe fingers. Dew's mouth pulls up into a grin. He presses down harder with his hand and Aeon can't breathe. Dew groans low, and Aeon thinks he never needs to breathe again as long as Dew keeps making noises like that. His body though as other plans. He grimaces as he chokes again, coughing and sputtering. Hand still motionless against Dew's thighs. "That's it," Dew growls. "Be a good girl and take it."

#comet writes #drabble #Aeon/Dew #Aeon Ghoul #Dewdrop Ghoul #Dewdrop/Aeon #Phantom/Dewdrop #Dewdrop/Phantom #Ghost fic #ghost fan fic #ghost fan fiction #the band ghost fan fiction #the band ghost fic #I have ten more of these #but they'll have to wait until tomorrow #but I'm having too much fun with them so you'll probably get to see all ten in the next couple of days #rip my backlog of other prompts #oops

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carnivalcarriondiscarded · 10 months

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reopening the ask box is like... just finishing vacuuming shed cat hair, and then immediately going and petting said cat vigorously & watching with delight as So Much Fur sheds right back onto the floor

#knocked it down from 96 asks to 53 lets gooooo #i was gonna keep it closed for much longer but like. that was past me's opinion when they were way more stressed than usual #current me misses Conversing with the Masses! or something like that!#is it a smart decision? probably not!#between packing & comms i dont have much time #but keeping it closed felt so wrong... i dont like keep out signs....#absolutely unprompted #i forgot how time-consuming and difficult packing is #im too out of practice....#ive got all my sketchbooks and notebooks and paper and comics boxed up #Except my wof collection. im waiting for book 15 to be shipped before i box em all up. gotta keep things Together #but yes anyway sorry the box is Open for whatever your little heart desires #which is.... bad timing bc im gonna be chronically Offline tomorrow and probably a decent chunk of the next day #now if yall will excuse me im going to Attempt To Write Fanfic.#we'll see if i manage more than one sentence #i am doing. so much usps research for this shit its hilarious #like yes! i will read reddit threads! watch yt 'day in the life' videos! job listings! etc!#but hey now i know about casing and relays/loops and dps and flats and the difference between city and rural-#its fun to learn new things for writing!#i will be taking Liberties anyway! but at least they'll be a conscious decision yk yk #and if i ever post i can say 'hey i know this is inaccurate But its for the sake of the fic. im doing it on purpose! not outta ignorance!'#also i feel so so bad for cca's like... the work 'ethic' is so fucking inhumane are they ok-

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bugsbenefit · 4 months

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oh yeah i just remembered there's a convention this weekend where ST actors are supposed to attend btw

those events can fall through at the last minute but if it doesn't this friday will be the first time actors will be doing a panel while not being able to deny knowing things about s5 anymore (expecting them to still say they don't know the ending and so on but yk, at least they can't say they haven't touched the scripts at all yet)

not like they'll say anything but the fact we can actually get casual acknowledgement of s5s existence now is crazy to me (still haven't fully processed we're a full month into shooting yet, the over half a year delay fucked with me) they could also realistically mention small non spoiler things that the Duffer's have previously openly talked about like Dustin grieving Eddie and so on. not saying they would, that's already more than i'd expect their NDAs to allow, but it's at least in the realm of possibilities

#scrolling through old bookmarks and realizing this is literally tomorrow #great timing #anyways they'll probably not say shit and lie and deny even having read all the scripts or something #but this is still the first post production start official event so i'm looking at it regardless #also waiting to see if we'll get any lying and questions dodging again bc it's genuinely funny to me #depends on if they'll be asked audience questions ig

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bardic-inspo · 3 months

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Larian re: posting chokey bloodweave before going eepy

Also me re: this fic apparently.

#this sounds deceiving he's pretty much just resting a hand there in the fic and not squeezing at all #this fic is gonna be ready to post tomorrow but that's also when they'll probably maybe finally release the patch #so I'm wondering if I should even bother or just wait #patch 6 #I'm honestly pretty salty about the patch stuff but trying not to spread negative vibes #blood in the mortar #megh fights the page

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slashmagpie · 7 months

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Blood & Snow

Pt. III

Directory: {Pt. I} {Pt. II} {Pt. IV} {Pt. V} {Pt. VI} {Pt. VII} {AO3}

Day three for @hermithorrorweek TWs for this chapter include: minor injury/blood, temporary character death

III. CHASE

“Sorry, Bdubs, I don’t know what you want me to say! Dungeon’s closed! Heard it from the dungeon master himself!”

Scar sits on top of the cobblestone block that’s blocking the barrel to open the dungeon doors, blinking at Bdubs faux-innocently, clutching his cane so tight his knuckles are white.

Bdubs snorts. “Yeah, sure. So where is he, then?”

“Why, he’s fixing the dungeon, of course!”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Bdubs! Why would I lie about this? No, no, I’m simply doing community service, helping out my dear friend Tango while he—”

“Cut the bullshit, Scar,” Bdubs says, scowling and crossing his arms, startling Scar out of his rambling. Scar stares at him for a moment, mouth agape, and then sniffs, pulling a face.

“Language, Bdubs.”

“I’ve heard you say worse,” Bdubs points out. “So, come on, tell me what’s really going on. I mean, if it’s a scam, I can help you out for a piece of the pie.” He smiles. He hopes the smile is still as charming as usual, even with his mismatched gold-and-diamond teeth.

“It’s not a scam,” Scar blurts. Now that he’s given up the bit, his body language has changed: he’s hunched over, curling in on himself with his shoulders raised, and the one hand that isn’t gripping his cane is rubbing at his legs as his expression contorts in pain. Bdubs is instantly concerned.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“There’s—something wrong with the dungeon,” Scar says. “At first I thought I was being paranoid, maybe Tango had just added some new effects, but then…” He swallows, looking vaguely sick. “So when I got out, I went looking for him. And… I couldn’t find him. Bdubs, I don’t think Tango’s anywhere.”

“Well, he’s got to be somewhere,” Bdubs says with a frown. “He can’t just have vanished into the air!”

“I can’t find him,” Scar stresses again. “And the dungeon has flesh now.”

“It has what?”

“It’s got flesh, Bdubs! And—it laughed at me, I think. And—screamed, and—” He cuts off with a shaky breath. “Do you see the problem now?”

Bdubs’ stomach is slowly sinking down into a black pit of dread. “I, uh—yeah. I might.” He runs a hand over his face, blowing out a breath. “Jeez. Okay. Okay. This is—we need to do something about this.”

“What can we even do?” Scar cries, a little shy of hysterical. “How do we—?”

“Does the waiting room still have a bed?” Bdubs interrupts him.

Scar blinks. “Yes…? Why?”

“I need to shreep.”

“You need to—is this really the time?! Bdubs, Tango is—”

“I know,” Bdubs says. “Tango told me to knock it off, but, well, I’m sure he won’t mind this one time.”

Scar squints at him. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to find him.”

----

Bdubs hasn’t slept in Decked Out since he’d realised that he couldn’t control his dreams when he did. Since he’d realised that sleeping within the Citadel’s walls would inevitably drag him beneath it, into the walls of the dungeon, he’d made sure to always head home before sundown.

Tonight, he makes an exception.

The waiting room is a strange environment to fall asleep in, but he manages it, curling up on his side and pulling the blankets over his head. It blocks out the light, the bright colours of the walls, and sleep soon comes to tug him from his body, down, down into the depths of the dungeon.

Huh. Bdubs has never been to level three before. That’s where he assumes he is, the walls thick with veins of skulk, the resting heartbeat of the dungeon accompanied by two quieter, off-beat hearts that echo around the walls. The build around him shudders slightly as it breathes, invisible spider webs sticking to the corners and dripping down from the ceiling. Bdubs stays as far away from them as he can, inching out of the room and down the stairs.

“Tango?” he calls quietly. Not too far away, a skulk sensor clicks. He shudders. It shouldn’t be able to hear him, is the thing. Most sensors can’t, not when he’s sleeping. But the sensors drip with more of that invisible webbing, and Bdubs knows that whatever that stuff is, his current form is made of something similar.

“Tango?” he calls again, louder, and this time a shrieker howls his position out to the dungeon. Bdubs curses under his breath as he hears the warden’s heartbeat pick up, the slow shuffle of footsteps towards him. He drops to a crouch. He needs to find Tango—he needs to get out of here—

His vision goes dark.

Crap.

He sneaks forward as fast as he can, the dungeon’s heartbeat picking up pace, the warden’s footsteps echoing too-loud in his ears. His vision is still dark, still pulsing, and he trips down a step he hadn’t seen in the shadows. The warden sniffs. Bdubs bites back a cry. He’s never going to find Tango at this rate—

The hairs on the back of his neck stand up on end. He feels, more than sees, the presence of the warden looming over him.

Panic overtakes his rational brain and he takes off running.

The blast catches him off-guard, leaving him half-dead and wheezing as he skids around a corner, attempting to put as much distance between him and the warden as possible. His ears are ringing so loud he can barely hear the dungeon’s heartbeat above the sound, let alone the warden’s. He feels blood begin to run down his cheeks. Crap, crap, he’s going to die—

The darkness clears. Bdubs spares a glance over his shoulder. The warden is still coming for him, just out of range of the blindness effect, and now that he has a proper glimpse of it he can see the same invisible strings wrapped around the creature as it lumbers towards him.

He wrenches his gaze away and keeps running.

This isn’t a run: he doesn’t have a compass, or a map, or any berries to sustain himself. He can feel himself flagging, the energy draining from him as he runs, and there’s nothing to soothe the agony still rattling in his ears and skull from the sonic blast. It doesn’t matter that he shouldn’t have legs, or lungs, or ears or blood or a stomach or any part of a body at all in this ethereal form, because this whole dungeon is drenched in the stuff that he’s made of and it can hurt him just as easily as it could while he was awake—

Wait.

What is he made of?

He can’t say he’s ever thought too much about it. Dream-stuff, is what he’d probably say, but what even is that? He’s not a body, but he is alive, is conscious—consciousness? Is that what these invisible tendrils are? Or are they something else? Something more?

Is this what a soul looks like?

His vision goes black again. He curses, glancing back, seeing the faint glow of the warden’s open ribcage, and then turns back to the way he’s facing, only to see the same glow, much, much closer.

…Ah. He’d forgotten about the other warden.

He stops, frozen, heart pounding, and knows that this is it: there’s no way out. His ears ring, and below the ringing, three furious hearts pound in time. The only light he can see in the dark is the invisible glow of the tendrils that hang from the walls, from the wardens, from himself.

He closes his eyes, takes his last breath, and makes his decision.

He lunges forward, straight towards the warden, and as its arms come down in a killing blow he digs his fingers into the ethereal strings and cries, “Tango, you bastard, where are you?”

The blow should be enough to knock him back into his body. It isn’t. The impact shatters him into pieces, and Bdubs lets out a cry, reaching out for the floating shards of his soul—

And then there are burning blue eyes staring at him out of pitch dark.

“Tango?” Bdubs croaks without a voice.

You shouldn’t be here, says the dungeon, an aching creak of stone and skulk that sounds almost, almost, like Tango’s voice. I told you before. No cheating!

“Scar said you were in trouble. Where are you? We’ll come get you.”

The dungeon laughs. It’s just as terrifying as Scar had made it out to be. If Bdubs had a throat, he would swallow.

You can’t find me, says the dungeon. I’m in the one place you can’t reach. Now go. AWAY.

Like a rubber band finally being released, Bdubs snaps back into his body with such force that he falls out of bed. He lies, shuddering, on the cold quartz floor of the waiting room, shaking and gasping for breath, pressing his fingers to the skin on his chest like he can push himself back into a single piece.

“Bdubs?” He blinks, bleary, up at Pearl, who’s perched on one of the parkour set-ups on the other side of the room. “Are you okay there, mate? You look a little…”

Bdubs sucks in a breath and finally finds his voice. “Get Scar,” he croaks. “Get—Get Etho. Get anyone. I… I know where Tango is.”

#hermitcraft #fanfiction #hermithorrorweek2023 #i'm very tired today so this is not proofread as closely as some of the other chapters #also i'm busy tomorrow and friday night so the next two chapters may be about a little later than usual! apologies #they should be good chapters though hopefully they'll be worth the wait #magpie feather quill

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gotyouanyway · 4 months

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my joint pain has been REALLY bad since thursday night for no reason i can think of and it's freaking me out :(

#it's kind of different from usual too idk what i did to it..#resting isn't helping much and walking/standing makes it worse..#i still don't have an adequate diagnosis so i can't pinpoint what's causing it or how to feel better!!!#i'm scared bc it's making me not really able to do much of anything all day.. i need to work tomorrow i need to apply for jobs..#and i can't go to the doctor bc all they'll do is tell me to take painkillers and wait for an mri!!#:(((((#p

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tardis--dreams · 6 months

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God i really hope they don't throw all my stuff out of my room and rip my floor open and take away my bathroom tomorrow. That would piss me off really really bad

#no hot water once again #another wonderful leakage they'll look for tomorrow #it's only the first few rooms so mine is included #and last time this happened they literally ripped out the entire floor and bathroom of the room across from mine #so i guess it doesn't look good for me this time #idk where I'd sleep or shower in that case but i guess that's a problem for future me #right now i just have to wait for our one (1) hour of hot water we're granted per day #i love it here #also i won't be here when they go through our rooms so if it's my room they'll have to get all my stuff out themselves #love that #void screams

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despite-everything · 8 months

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it can be so fucking hard to be close to people who have very different understandings of time and respect than you.

#im just going to bitch in the notes so i can get it out of my system #it fucking hurts my feelings when my friends are significantly later than they said they would be #they are driving up and visiting me which i do appreciate #but its like. 95% of the time im the one meeting them wherever and whenever works for them #and theyd made it sound like theyd be coming hours ago and they werent #and finally got on the fucking road and their eta was 13 minutes ago and they still arent here #and its like. i get that they have their own lives and traffi and shit #but ive told them many times that it genuinely upsets me when this happens #to the point that if they werent already on the road id just tell them to fucking stay home #its the biggest stressor in our relationship and it seems like theyll get better for a bit after we talk about it #then it gets bad again #and it sucks because i was excited! and now im feeling bitter and upset and i either have to swallow it #or bring the mood down #and im sure they have more shit to do at home so its not like they'll be sticking around for a long time tomorrow #if they do i'll be shocked #but like. id thought of fun stuff we can do and im cool with not doing them but a better fucking heads up would be appreciated #i shouldnt have to ask 3 times to find out when youre coming #especially when i give a very long time between asking to not be a bother #and it just feels like they dont respect me or my time. i couldve done so much more this afternoon #but ive been here fucking waiting for them.#and i told them i was worried this shit would happen once i no longer lived right near them #and they said it wouldnt be a fucking problem. well guess what.#and i have had to defend them to my dad who i live with as well #and then this shit happens. it sucks #anyway. i thought they'd be here 2 hours ago.#whatever. nothing i can do about it now.#tree talks

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jedi-bird · 1 year

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Sorting through old children's books and found this. At some point in my youth I apparently got a book with my Taco Bell kids meal. I don't remember it at all but I'll probably keep it for the novelty factor.

#birdy collects weird things #there were also a bunch of books from McDonald's but those i do remember #i did manage to get rid of two boxes which make less of a dent in the books waiting to be shelved they you'd think #but slow progress is progress and i did get the art and gaming books separated out #so whenever my partner decides on what kind of shelves they want for the office they'll go in there #i unfortunately almost dislocated my knee when the step ladder tipped slightly and my knee cap got caught in it #it is very sore and swollen but it's holding weight #tomorrow is chiropractor day so I'll ask them if i need to get checked out #fingers crossed its a no

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dreamersscape · 10 months

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Curiosity Killed the Cat: A Dreamersscape Story

Which doesn't seem quite fair, really, considering although I like cats a great deal, you still wouldn't call me a cat person.

Step #1: Love Kakashi Hatake far too much as a character.

Step #2: Scroll through his tumblr tag. Slowly start noticing that people often draw parallels between him and another character from the currently-running Jujutsu Kaisen manga and anime, Satoru Gojo.

Step #3: Think, "This is fine. It appears they're mostly just comparing their similar character designs and they both have unique things going on with their eyes. I'm not seeing anything that's really piquing my interest with this series; I'll just quickly look up if there's anything more to these comparisons beyond surface-level resemblances and that will be that."

Step #4: One of the next things you learn about Gojo is that a common clickbait-y way to frame discussion around parts of his personality is along the lines of, "Does Gojo have a God complex?"

Step #5: Think, "Ah, okay. That's likely an exaggeration, but probably Kakashi and Gojo can't be all that similar, or at least I likely wouldn't feel much the same about them as characters. Now I'm simply curious how far off Gojo actually is from having a God complex and then I'll be done."

Step #6: Did not back out of this rabbit hole at this juncture.

Step #7: Hard to recollect exactly the order of things from here, but learned that Gojo is the teacher for his own group of 3 fifteen-year-old students (and also previously taught older students since he's the head of first-year high school students at his very small school), learned back when Gojo was a student at this same school he had a very close friend who was instrumental in imbuing Gojo with his current moral principles and this friend is now dead, and learned that Gojo is the unequivocally strongest character within his universe's power system, and thus while he has a LOT of confidence in his own abilities and can be a bit cocky and a show-off, he definitely doesn't think of himself as godlike (anyone who's familiar with JJK and reading this--I'm aware of 'the honored one' thing, hang on a sec).

Step #8: Decide, "Alright then. Well, I am starting to get more intrigued by this series. Maybe I'll look up a little more about it and watch the first episode or two. It'll be fine. After all, I get now why people are reminded of Kakashi by Gojo and vice versa, but it certainly sounds like Gojo's personality is basically the opposite of someone who's convinced they're scum and is incredibly unassuming and humble and could honestly use a bit more self-worth so he at least possesses a modicum of self-preservation inclination. Gojo seems to have a lighthearted, goofy side that is partly used as a cover for his deeper emotions, and I might get attached to that based on other characters I've loved, but that still ought to be pretty safe. If I do wind up liking Gojo the most out of all the characters, there's no way he'll put me through the same heart-wrenching agony as seeing Kakashi being a paragon of strength of character and sheer goodness, while inwardly he can't see anything of value in himself."

The thing is, I wasn't wrong.

But clearly, I underestimated the pain I could still experience at the hands of a Kakashi-adjacent character.

(All I'm about to explain is completely non-spoilery, by the way. And by that I mean I'm not going to be ruining any major plot points or the "viewing experience" of watching the anime or reading the manga. Anything I reference that happens at any point beyond the first few chapters, I'll be as vague and opaque about it as possible, as well as very brief. And it will also all be basic background info/set up level stuff.)

Okay, so before I get to the real kicker, let's start with Gojo's dream.

In the world of Jujutsu Kaisen, the chakra equivalent is called cursed energy. However, cursed energy is not a life force. Cursed energy arises from people's negative emotions, and if the quantities of negative emotions emitted by the populace is large and concentrated enough, this creates cursed spirits of various sorts. For example, humanity's collective fear and pain experienced through natural disasters created a cursed spirit out of that resulting enormous amount of cursed energy. Cursed spirits usually aren't sentient, but almost unerringly they cause great harm and often death to humans. The number we're given at the start of the manga is around 10,000 unexplained deaths and missing persons per year in Japan are the result of curses.

Jujutsu sorcerers are the people who exorcize (or destroy, more like) cursed spirits to mitigate that as much as possible. They exorcize the curses with cursed energy-fueled techniques that are unique to each sorcerer. A sorcerer's innate cursed technique (CT) is said to comprise around 80% of their potential/talent as a fighter of curses. We're told that over the course of the last, I don't know, century or so (?) - the date at the start of the series is June 2018 - curse spirits have been increasing in strength and number. However, the incredibly rare combination of the Limitless cursed technique and the Six Eyes in-born trait Gojo was born with is so powerful that his birth alone swung the balance from being in the curses' favor back over to the side of the jujutsu sorcerers.

Details on Gojo's childhood are quite sparse, basically the only things we know about the Gojo family are it's one of the three big clans in jujutsu society and they're very wealthy. As far as I'm aware, Satoru is the only member of the clan we've ever met. So there's only supposition for what his home life was like up until he started at Jujutsu High, but we do know that because his possessing both the Six Eyes and Limitless was the first occurrence of such in 300-400 years, his existence was something of a spectacle and many sorcerers came to visit him just to see it for themselves, and too, he was the target of curse users (sorcerers who use jujutsu for evil and their own selfish gain) in pursuit of the over 100 million yen bounty placed on his head since he was very young.

It would be pretty reasonable to assume Gojo was subsequently rather sheltered and perhaps quite lonely as a child, but at the same time praised and lauded for how he was so naturally, prodigiously powerful. It only makes sense that Gojo has more than a little pride in his strength and puts so much stock in that. I'm sure he really enjoyed the attention and notoriety he received, and he never expresses resentment regarding any pressure that might have been put on him as a kid to be the infallible (future?) vanquisher of curses (although later I do think he places more and more pressure on himself to "take care" of everything and be responsible for the safety of everyone in the jujutsu world and beyond), and yet I do believe it's apparent he understands he didn't get to have a "normal" childhood. As a part of one of the big clans, he was surrounded and immersed in the political power plays and jockeying for prestige and influence by jujutsu society's elders/leaders/'higher ups' from the start (we don't know when or how it happened, but presumably because he's the strongest living Gojo, at the start of the story Satoru is the head of the clan), and these higher ups view Gojo in terms of how he can best be used for their own benefit. Outside of his high school best friend and later a few of his students, Gojo has very few people who have more than a cursory understanding of who he is as a person, who seem to want to know him, not the living embodiment of the title 'The Strongest', but just Satoru Gojo. Gojo likes being The Strongest, but when that's all everyone around him appears to care about, it leaves him feeling very isolated and alone.

As I mentioned before, though, Gojo never complains about this. He doesn't ever even imply "because I was treated this way, I want to prevent anyone else having to go through that." He does tell one of the people he's somewhat close to what his aim is and what the reason is behind it, but it's worded in a way where the person is confused by Gojo's explanation, and we as the reader can't even be sure he's referring to himself, since it could just as easily be in reference to his deceased friend.

It's informed by his experiences growing up certainly, but Gojo's fierce desire to give the kids he watches over the opportunity to fully and freely enjoy their youth is not about regretting what he missed out on; it's about what he can do for them, doing all he can to protect and preserve their childhood and making sure no one can take that away from them.

I realize I haven't exactly explained what precisely Gojo's 'dream' is and how it ties into all this, so I'll attempt to circle back to that now.

Jujutsu Kaisen begins with our main character, Yuji Itadori, accidentally stumbling his way into the jujutsu world by doing something very dangerous in order to be in what he thinks is a better position to help his friends out of a bad situation. He succeeds in helping his friends, but what he had to do to make that happen is an action that is punishable by death under jujutsu regulations. Naturally, Yuji was unaware of that, but it doesn't matter to the sorcerer higher ups. Gojo hears about the situation, intervenes, and is able to get the elders to suspend Yuji's execution for the time being. I'm glossing over a bunch of stuff but let's roll with that for now. While Gojo is explaining the whole situation to Yuji, the first thing he tells Yuji about the higher ups is that he thinks they're a bunch of cowards. And really, that's just the tip of the iceberg for how Gojo feels towards these leaders. He's not a fan of them by any stretch of the imagination. I said above Gojo never voices resentment directed at them over his lack of a carefree childhood, and that's true, however his dislike of the higher ups does seem to be partly personal. We just don't know the specifics other than that when he criticizes them (to their faces or a fellow colleague) he sticks to their wrongful actions on the whole, not how they've wronged him. A handful of episodes later, the higher ups pull something really awful and underhanded while Gojo is away on another mission, a scheme that is partially motivated by wanting to get back at Gojo for interfering with Yuji. Newly and deeply angered by this, Gojo delves further into the corruption at the top of the jujutsu world and then tells us about his dream:

A similar scene happens one year previous to this:

(Gojo doesn't use it anywhere near as frequently, but his saying 'what a pain' about many a situation still manages to give me Shikamaru feelings and I enjoy that.)

What stands out to me the most here is how much Gojo WANTS the students/his allies to be equal to or surpass him in strength. He's not at all concerned with keeping his position and accompanying power all to himself like the higher ups are. During one of the first chapters of the manga/show, to allay someone's uneasiness over potential danger, Gojo tells them, "Don't worry, I'm the strongest." It's only later that we learn when he was much younger he was originally quite happy to say, "Anyway, it should be okay. We're the strongest." I really think he would like nothing better than to be able to say that once again.

In an unusual turn of events for me, when I caught up to the JJK manga a few months ago, I actually had pretty good timing with what was currently going on, but now the story is starting to enter into its final stages and it seems like a lot of people in the fandom feel the narrative is very possibly leading to Gojo's death in some way that will better enable this brighter, less corrupt future for the jujutsu world and his students that he's been working towards this entire time. I don't think that would be a bad outcome, I'm not against noble sacrifices entirely, but I really, really, really don't want to see this happen. And here's where my unexpected Kakashi-adjacent feelings come into play. The reasons for why I'm so invested in seeing both Kakashi and Gojo live to be a part of the better world they helped create are pretty different. Yet, they're also not miles apart. I don't think Gojo has as many doubts as Kakashi that he has a place in the future of which he dreams, but from what I can tell his main focus is on that future existing for everyone else. Maybe he believes that is his purpose as The Strongest? Probably he does have every intention of being there with his fellows. I just want that for him so very much. For the few glimpses of kid!Gojo we got, who always looked so solemn; for the teenage Gojo with the biggest, goofiest smiles, who had so much connection ripped away prematurely; for Gojo the teacher, who works so hard to make every kid feel welcome and excited and to know they aren't alone. I'm aware of the kind of story I'm reading--Jujutsu Kaisen is unrelentingly brutal to its characters. It's a matter of course to have your heart mercilessly stomped on over and over reading JJK. It's not the sort of story where you can reasonably expect a happy ending. Unfortunately, I'm much too optimistic of a person for this manga and I'm far too attached to the story and characters and I'm in way, way too deep.

But let's ignore all that for now and get to the Kakashi-adjacent part of Gojo which clobbered me over the head with feels even worse than what I've already detailed!

@panharmonium, when you've reached this part of the post, I can't really guess what you're thinking about it all, but what if I told you that one of Gojo's students, Megumi Fushiguro, the Sasuke-adjacent one, was, along with his one-year-older step-sister Tsumiki, quasi-adopted/looked after/raised by Gojo from the time Megumi was six/in first grade and Gojo was just nineteen? By blood, Megumi is actually a member of the Zen'in clan, another of the three major clans in jujutsu society. Gojo, fresh out of high school and still newly, painfully estranged from his best friend, hears by chance that Megumi, who's on his own at this time apart from Tsumiki (also parentless), is about to be sold to the Zen'in because of the cursed technique he's just manifested, and although it has nothing to do with him, Gojo goes to Megumi and asks him if he wants to go live with the Zen'in. Upon learning if he chooses this, Tsumiki will be very unhappy (the Zen'in clan cares nothing for her and they are by-and-large super blatantly misogynistic), Megumi says no and Gojo's like, "Cool, that's great! I'll take care of everything and I'll make sure you two have everything you need. I want you to grow up strong!" And then there's a moment in the manga, where present-day Gojo is taking a nap and dreams of this first meeting between himself and Megumi and when he wakes up to his three students coming to see him he does this:

AND THE SECOND SEASON OF THE ANIME JUST STARTED AIRING A FEW WEEKS AGO AND THAT MEANS I'LL BE ABLE TO SEE THIS MOMENT ANIMATED POSSIBLY AS SOON AS AUGUST 3RD (DUB PROBABLY AUGUST 17TH) AND I'M GONNA DIE. HE LOVES THAT KID SO MUCH!!!!!

So obviously that's super sweet and all, but maybe you're thinking, "Okay, that's nice, but do they really have that Kakashi 'n' Sasuke vibe?" and to that I say, "CHECK OUT THIS SHORT VIDEO AND THEN HOPEFULLY I CAN REST MY CASE."

youtube

Also, it is now my most important goal in life to draw a Kakashi & Sasuke version of these panels so I can dedicate it to you (and padmerrie if she wants in on this):

Of course, I'm not saying Sasuke and Megumi are carbon copies of each other (or Kakashi and Gojo for that matter, as I've tried to delineate above). Megumi has a bit of a grumpy disposition, but he's also very polite; he always calls Gojo "Gojo-sensei" and he uses "-senpai" for all the upperclassmen (who he met previously to becoming a student at Jujutsu High). Megumi is the dog guy in JJK and Gojo's more reminiscent of a cat in some respects. Etc., etc., etc. But in general, I really hope you see the vision!

While I'm at it, I might as well show you the little Gojo & Yuji video that naturally gives me all the Kakashi & Naruto feelings:

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Yuji's already got the jubilantly-tackle-hug-your-sensei part down! (Although, of course, Gojo's much less resistant.🥰)

It is admittedly much more of a stretch to say Nobara is Sakura-adjacent, but I have seen someone describe her as a 'gremlin child' and I love that about her! <3

Anyway, I totally get if none of this is up your alley for whatever reason or you don't have the time to get into JJK if this happens to persuade you or if you just want to prioritize other stuff right now. *I* didn't mean to get into it, after all! The plan for my looking into JJK was to be purely for enhancing my love for Kakashi, and I failed spectacularly at limiting myself to that. I just thought I would share to see if it would be a fun read for you. :)

#super stressed for tomorrow night's chapter honestly #so channeling my emotions into this rambly mess of a post #oh also I decided to forego the companion gifset that goes with this #still gonna post it soon but I don't want to rush it and most of the visuals are already included here #in the gifset they'll just be the anime visuals #and it's going to be captioned 'gojo really asked is anyone going to adopt these kids instead of sentencing them to execution or selling #them off like cattle? and then didn't wait for an answer' 'cause three separate instances makes a pattern buddy #random musings of a personal nature #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #megumi fushiguro #yuji itadori #yuta okkotsu #tsumiki fushiguro #kakashi hatake #panharmonium

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