#and that's why the gravestones and whatever have crosses. like. yes. ok

[snowsheba]

hi hello. why do the vampires in aveyond have a church.

#aveyond #i'm playing through 3-1 for the first time u guys...... umm.... #listen i know it's bc there are only so many assets in rpg maker #and that's why the gravestones and whatever have crosses. like. yes. ok #but the implication that aveyond and vampires are christians has me ROLLING

[itsallyscorner]

I don’t know if it’s too much to ask, but when you’re done with all your requests, can you please do a part 2 of getting to know you?❤️

Hello darling!💕 Thank you for the request and I’m so sorry it took me so long; I was waiting for Cherry to come out to write this and I also have time to finally write. I hope you like it!💕 *CHERRY SPOLIERS*

A/n: Hello my loves! I just wanted to say that these kind of fics are the closest I will get to writing for Cherry. I will not be writing about the characters in the story, I will only be writing about the filming process, working with Tom, etc. Now that I mentioned that, I wanted to let you all know that this is going to be a bit more of a happier fic! I see a lot of people writing about the hard parts of filming Cherry so I thought why not have a little fun one? I’m sure they had some laughs on set, I briefly remember Ciara and Tom mentioning it. But yeah that’s all, enjoy the fic! Ally xx

💌.

I’m Really Happy You’re Here

(GIF @thollandgifs )

Tom watched you from a distance. From where he was, he could hear the sound of your bubbly laugh and see that bright smile on your face. Your smile was contagious. The way your eyes crinkled at the ends and how your smile squished into your cheeks was something he’s grown fond of over the past eight weeks. Though the difference from the previous weeks was that your cheeks were fuller and the bleak expressions of Emily did not shadow your face anymore.

The last eight weeks of filming have been rough. Both on you and him, along with the rest of the cast and crew. Having to begin filming with the ‘Dope Life’ section of the movie was not a pleasant way of starting a months long project. He felt drained after every shoot, spending his time on set crying, kicking, and screaming. Not to mention he was also starving himself to enhance the ‘druggy’ look on his features. After those eight weeks they had to transition into the part of Cherry’s life where he’s falling in love with Emily. The transition from being an addict to becoming a lovesick college student was a tricky one for Tom. The sudden switch in the film’s dynamic, made Tom doubt himself. From the intense scenes and screaming to being all loving and sweet, he was self-conscious that he was not doing enough. Though you were quick to debunk his doubts. You kept your promise of being there for him and gave him the freedom to be vulnerable. You didn’t judge him, you listened to him ramble and understood the struggles he was facing. Because of this, you helped him through the transition of druggy to lovesick college student. 

It wasn’t hard to act like he was falling in love you. You have been so supportive and patient with him during the previous weeks that he’s grown to adore you. On and off set you made sure he knew you were not only his co-worker but his friend. When he had a rough day, you were there to pick him up. Or that one time when he had a bit of a panic attack and you were instantly by his side to guide him out of it. There were many reasons as to why you are so dear to him, he could have gone on for days listing them. But overall, it was your lovable nature that lured him in since the very beginning he’s met you.

He felt like Cherry in that one scene you guys shot in the classroom. The one where he’s gazing at Emily and admiring her features. Except you didn’t stare back at him, instead you were having a very animated conversation with your makeup artist and one of the stylists. You were dressed in Emily’s clothes, white stockings, a jean skirt, and that cherry pink jacket with flowers embroidered onto it. He thought you looked so adorable and carefree kicking around leaves with your brown ankle boots and playfully swinging your arms around. Tom felt his lips unconsciously twitch upwards at the sight of you.

Harry, who had been eyeing his older brother, nudged him roughly. Tom whips around to look at him, sending him a glare for rudely interrupting his train of thought.

“What?” Tom hissed.

Harry smirked, motioning to you, “(Y/n) looks really pretty today.” Tom distinctly squints an eye at Harry before looking over his shoulder. The glare for his brother softening once you come into view.

“I mean, doesn’t she always? She’s a beautiful woman.”

“And you’re absolutely whipped.” Harry remarked with a smug grin on his face.

“So I can’t call someone beautiful without being absolutely whipped for them now?” Tom retorted crossing his arms. Harry raised his hands up defensively, “You can mate, chill. I’m just saying that because you’re literally staring at her with a stupid love haze in your eyes.”

“No I’m not.” Tom scoffed, hoping to get his brother off his case. Harry stared at him blankly and rolled his eyes, “Whatever, they want you on your mark.”

The filming location was a secluded park located somewhere in Cleveland. The park was set up to appear as a cemetery, gray gravestones were placed on the ground and gothic statues scattered the place. The scene was supposed to be a meaningful one for Cherry and Emily. Emily was going to be telling Cherry about her abusive father and he was going to tell her he loved her.

Tom sat on the grass and leaned against the stone statue where his mark was located. He looked around his surroundings in curiosity. A few feet away from him was the crew, the Russos, and a tent that sheltered the monitors. He breathed in, wallowing in the crisp air of Cleveland’s autumn weather. It was a bit chilly, but not to the point where you were shivering and left with chattering teeth. The vintage looking jacket he was given and the black beanie on his head was enough to keep him warm. His eyes continued to wander around the park, shifting along the trees and studying the clusters of yellow and orange.

“Hey you.” Your gentle voice breaks through the quiet murmurs of nature and the crew surrounding him. Tom’s eyes instantly set themselves upon your figure, their focus on you and only you. The trees and cameras behind you faded in the background. His gaze followed your figure as you moved to sit beside him.

“Hey.” His voice is soft making you hum in response. Being the gentleman he was, Tom held out his hand to help you sit on the ground. You quietly thank him. He watches as you rest your head against the stone and shut your eyes.

“Still sleepy?” He chuckles nudging your shoulder. You giggle along, lazily nodding. Your eyes open again and he’s met with your stunning (eye color) orbs. They were bright and filled with joy even though you were clearly tired.

You turn your head to the side to face him, “I barely got any sleep last night.”

Tom’s brows drew together in concern, “Why didn’t you get any sleep?”

“I may or may not have watched The Nun by myself last night.” You cringed. Tom let out a dramatic gasp, “Darling, why would you do that to yourself?”

“I was bored and I couldn’t find anything else to watch. I thought watching a horror movie would be a good idea, but I was wrong.” You explained, shaking your head at yourself. You breathed out a laugh, remembering how terrified you were the night before.

Tom joined you, also shaking his head. “Why didn’t you ask Harry and I to join? We could’ve watched it for movie night. Then you wouldn’t have to be alone and you’d have two body guards to protect you from the scary nun.” He teased you poking your side. You squeaked and swatted his finger away.

“You guys were going out for dinner. I thought you might want to have some quality time with your brother.” You stifled a yawn, your nose scrunching after, making Tom pout at your sleepy state. He glanced in front of him to see everyone still occupied in side conversations. The Russos were haunched behind the tent discussing things about the scene.

Tom turns back to you and motions to his lap. You give him a questioning look. You glance at his lap, not completely understanding him. Tom followed your stare, realizing that you were probably getting the wrong message.

“Oh! No—I meant that you could sleep on my lap or something. I don’t think we’re gonna start filming for a few more minutes, so I thought you might want to squeeze in a little nap.” He explained, words jumbling together in panic. Your heart swelled at how sweet Tom was.

The two of you were silent, staring at each other before bursting out in laughter. Tom squeezed his eyes shut, fingers holding his temples, “God, I’m sorry, that was embarrassing.”

You chuckled resting your head on his shoulder, “It’s okay, you had good intentions.” When your laughs die down, you look up at him. “Does your offer for the nap still stand? I think I can use it.”

“Of course it does.” Tom shifts so there’s space on his thigh for you to rest your head on. He helps you lay down, fixing your hair so it’s not in your face. He leaves a hand to play with the strands, mesmerized at how luscious it was. He notices that he’s probably invading your space and pulls his hand away, apologizing.

You make a noise of disagreement, pulling his hand back. “It’s ok, feels nice.” You mumble, eyes closing and a content expression on your face. Tom played with your hair; being careful to not tangle any strands or pull on them too hard. He couldn’t help but study your features. To name a few, he took the time to memorize the way your lashes brushed against your cheeks, the shape of your nose, and the curve of your lips. Your lips. They looked remarkably soft and had a tint of pink to them. Tom found his eyes flickering down at your lips the most than your other features.

He was so caught up in admiring you that he didn’t notice the words coming out of his mouth.

“I’m really happy you’re here.”

Your eyes snap open dancing with amusement. A toothy grin forms on your mouth.

“Did you just quote the movie?” You question him, referring to the previous scene you were both shooting a couple of days ago. Tom becomes flustered, the blood rushing to his fair cheeks.

“Yes, shut up.” He muttered, bouncing his thigh, causing your head to loll to the side. You giggle elbowing his stomach. “Well were you practicing your lines? ‘Cause they’re for the wrong scene, Tommy.” You tease him.

Tom playfully rolls his eyes and looks down at you. His hands were still tangled in your hair, the soft strands like silk in between his fingers. “No, I know that—but I’m serious. I’m really happy you’re here with me. I know I’ve told you this so many times but I can’t imagine filming this movie with anyone else. And you’ve been so loyal and trusting, I feel so comfortable with you. You’ve always had my back and I’m really thankful for that. So thank you for—being you.”

You give him a lopsided grin, “You know, you don’t have to always thank me. We made a promise to always have each other’s back. I’m one to keep my word but at the same time you’re my friend, Tom. I’m not being nice to fulfill a promise, I genuinely care about you.” Tom beams while you continue.

“It honestly goes both ways, I should also be thanking you. The beginning of filming was very taxing and somehow you’ve made it bearable for me to come into work not worrying about losing my shit on everyone. So thank you, Tom.” You finish, reaching out to interlock your fingers with his free hand.

Tom sighs happily, “I guess we’re just happy to have each other, huh?”

“Yeah.” You agree, eyes trained on the way his giant hand enveloped yours. A peaceful silence lays upon the both of you. The melody of birds chirping and the sound of Tom’s breathing fill the air as you drift off to sleep.

Bonus:

Tom feels your hand loosen in his grip, your interlocked fingers resting on your stomach. He felt your stomach steadily raising up and down to the pace of your breathing. His hands remained where they were; one playing with your hair and the other holding one of your hands.

Joe approaches the both of you, gesturing to the position you and Tom were in. Though you were unaware, napping on Tom’s lap.

“Is this how you guys want to film the scene? We were gonna have you sitting beside each other instead.” Joe stood above you and Tom with his hands on his hips.

“I think this is actually better—don’t get me wrong, sitting beside each other and cuddling is pretty affectionate. But I think having someone rest their head on your lap is another level of intimacy.” Tom reasoned. He wanted to extend the amount of time you could ‘nap’ but he also thought the scene would be much better if your head was cradled on his lap. Personally, he believed it would show the audience how comfortable Cherry and Emily were with each other.

Joe nods his head, “Yeah, I get what you mean. I think I like that better, to be honest. What do you think, (Y/n)? Is Tom’s lap comfortable enough for you to shoot a few scenes on?” Joe asks, teasing you towards the end. He’s met with no response. He raises a brow at you, “Is she asleep?”

“Yup, long night.” Tom chuckled, running his hand through your hair soothingly.

Joe chuckles as well, “Is she all good though?”

“Oh, she’s fine. She just watched The Nun by herself and couldn’t catch any sleep after.” Tom reassured him.

“Ahh, alright.” Joe snickers, moving to make his way back to the crew. “She’s got a good 10 to 15 minutes to squeeze in a nap, monitors are acting up.”

“Gotcha’ boss.” Tom mentally notes, resuming to bask in the nature around him and your presence.

Tags:

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#marvel #mcu #avengers #Tom Holland #Tom Holland x reader #tom holland one shot #tom holland imagines #tom holland fluff #tom holland drabble #Cherry #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland headcanon #ally’s requests #tom stanley holland #tom holland imagine

[four-rabbit]

My best friend died in the 90′

Ok, so, this is part of an ghost AU that I have and probably will be talking about in the future, where Virgil is a ghost and them and Remus are best friends, (this is not the main plot but anyway, like I said, I'll talk about it in later)

However, while this doesn't happen, please have this oneshot about Remus and Virgil meeting each other

Summary: Remus never had any friends, but that changed when he decided to go to the cemetery in the middle of the night, just to meet Virgil, a kid that besides being just as weird as Remus, happens to be dead.

(For a little bit of context: in this fanfic Remus comes from a family where eveyone can speak to ghosts, on his mom side, at least, but unlike Roman, Remus was never able to talk to a ghost before meeting Virgil)

Characters: Remus Sanders, Virgil sanders, mentions to Roman Sanders

Warnings: swearing (specifically a kid swearing), discussions of death, mentions of a fight and bullying.

Obs: in this au Virgil uses exclusively they/them pronouns and Remus uses he/it. This is not a genderbend version of Remus.

I've always been the weird child so it seemed appropriate that my first friend had been dead for more than a decade.

It's a funny story: I had gotten to another fight, I even lost a tooth that day and probably would have lost two if I hadn't run away the moment the fucking coward that called himself a bully invited his friends for help. I may be fast but I can only bite so many people at once.

I didn't want to go home because Roman would be worried and my parents would be angry, which was the usual, but getting bullied was also the usual, didn't mean that I couldn't get tired of it, that's why I decided to go to the cemetery I mean, why not? 

I knew I was far from my house because it took me less than ten minutes to reach it. My parents moved to as far as possible from there the moment Roman was born, the guy can't stand even getting closer to it, which I founded stupid at the time. I would give anything to have the stupid paranormal sensitivity that he was so afraid of instead of being the disappointment of the family.

Turns out he was right for being afraid. 

After a quick look I confirmed that there was no other living soul at the cemetery besides me, so I smiled and sat on the closest gravestone. Mom always said that we should respect the dead and their resting place or else they would teach us a lesson or whatever but I was fine with that because I had decided a long ago that If a ghost showed themself to me it would be the coolest freaking thing ever. I kicked the gravestone weakly, as if knocking on a door. That thought made me giggle as I imagined a ghost appearing in pajamas, angry at me for disturbing them that late at night. I kicked again, this time a little harder. 

"Stop that" someone mumbled besides me. I immediately got to my feet, thinking that the gravedigger had seen me but fortunately I didn't see an angry adult, but a kid. They were using a black hoodie and had equally dark hair falling on their face. They were pale as a dead body, fat and tall, basically the opposite of me, an unhealthily skinny latino little shit. I snorted.

"What are you gonna do about it?" I kicked the gravestone once more. They seemed startled, backing up a little. 

"You- you can see me?"

"Why wouldn't- OH MY GOD YOU'RE A GHOST?!" I screamed not even caring if someone could hear me. Virgil cared. 

"Sshh! I-" they seemed disconcerted but gave up with a sigh "Yes, I'm" 

"Oh! Holy shit! Is that your gravestone?! Is that why you appeared when I kicked it?!" I jumped in excitement, getting close to them to take a closer look at my most recent discovery. 

"No, I just don't think you should kick it. It's disrespectful" 

"Yeah, whatever! Oh my god I can't believe I'm seeing a ghost! Suck it, mom, I knew I could do it too!" I exclaimed to nothing in particular as if she could hear me. "What's your name?"

"No- look, I'm sorry, I didn't think you could see me, I just- I should go" they said in the classic "I want to get rid of you" that everyone used after talking to me for more than five minutes. I started to get desperate, this was my first time seeing a ghost, I wouldn't let them leave that easily.

"No, don't go! I promise that I'm cool! Sorry for kicking your friend's gravestone, I don't know, please stay!" I begged and I guess my irresistible cuteness touched their heart because they turned to look at me again.

"He's not my friend," Virgil explained. "Just an old ghost that doesn't like to be bothered." they looked down shyly and I thought that was cute. "My name is Virgil. What's yours?" 

"My name-" I always hated to tell people my deadname, I just didn't know why at the time "You can call me the Duke because my name is shit I really hate it y'know, it really sucks ass" They probably raised an eyebrow, it was hard to tell with all that hair failing on their face, but didn't say anything besides:

"Why not the duchess?"

"Because I don't want to" replied, crossing my arms as if challenging them to disagree. Virgil looked me up and down, processing my appearance. I was using dirty green legs, a black dress that my mom insisted that I wore for school and an old all star. Their eyes stopped at my face, with my bloody nose and the missing tooth. "What happened to your face?"

"Oh yeah I got into a fight! But it's cool, I'm not afraid of those assholes" now they seemed worried.

"Why did you get into a fight?"

"Just the usual, he stole my lunch, pushed me out of my bike, called me some bad words and I bit him. Y'know everyone thinks blood is so gross but I kinda like the taste." I looked at them, trying to see their reactions. I couldn't see their eyes but I'm sure they widened as Virgil got closer, saying in the same worried tone that Roman used:

"You should be careful! Have you told your parents?! Do you have any friends to walk with you? Or you could tell a teacher! No, forget it, teachers never help, at least not when I was alive. Is there anyone you can trust to protect you?"

"Wow, chill, I can take care of myself"

"I'm serious, Duke!" I rolled my eyes. I hated when people treated me as some fragile girl that couldn't take care of herself. Turned out I just hated that people treated me like a girl. 

"Why do you care? I just met you" 

"Because-" Virgil changed their mind mid phrase. Can't blame them, I wouldn't share my backstory and the reason I died that easily either if I was a ghost. "You seem nice, I don't want you to get hurt" I don't think anyone had ever called me nice by that time. Weird, gross, disturbing, problem child, ungracious I had always heard, but nice was new, even Roman just called me "cool" or "brave" at best. So, of course, I got defensive. 

"Hm. Want me to tell you what he, Peter by the way, is the name of the asshole, yeah, he's a big asshole, what Peter and his friends called me?!" Again, Virgil barely reacted to my swearing and I was starting to get frustrated, it was always an easy way to get some fun reactions, especially from adults.

"Not really…" as they would learn in the years that followed, that kind of phrase rarely stopped me from speaking. 

"He called me a bitch! That's when I bit him, actually, he was like, listen here you little bitch and he pointed his finger at my face and I bit it and I almost ripped it off I swear!" I looked at them, waiting for their reaction, already imagining what it would be. I was young but I had lived enough to mainly aim for negative responses just because they were better than no response at all. Virgil stayed in silence for longer than I wanted which was like the most boring response. 

"How old are you, Duke?"

"I'm going to be nine in three months! How old are you?"

"I died when I was ten." 

"Cool! I was never friends with an older kid!" I was never friends with anyone besides Roman, but anyway. "I mean, you're my friend, right?" They didn't answer immediately, but then Virgil opened a smile and probably decided they were going to protect that little chaotic gremlin.

"Yeah, I guess I’m.”

#ghost au #Dukexiety #remus sanders #virgil sanders #cw swearing #tw death mention #tw bullying mention #rabbit writes

[t--o--f--u-blog]

☼☼☼☼☼ also think tank a white lecturer using the n-word when quoting literature in a lecture? I think she used it once outside of quotation as well certainly not meant in a disrespectful way, just seems unnecessary

☐☐☐☐☐ better have a justification at least but if you just use it out of the blue it always seems like some attempt at provocation 'i can say this because my interests are purely academic'

☼☼☼☼☼ mmmmm we're reading uncle tom's cabin, so it's hard to avoid

☐☐☐☐☐ should only be quoted verbatim if absolutely necessary, if there's no alternative I think

☼☼☼☼☼ yeah seems like she could have avoided it pretty easily

☐☐☐☐☐ if she's making no acknowledgement of the word's relationship to her privilege, that's rly not good

☼☼☼☼☼ yeah she's older so there might just be an outdated perspective there 'I'm just quoting the text, it was anti-slavery so I'm fine' sort of mentality maybe?

☐���☐☐☐ still she would know about the contemporary attitude to the word and she should at least mention that! ugh like it doesn't sound malicious or super super racist, but eh

☼☼☼☼☼ Yeah I feel iffffy about it

☐☐☐☐☐ should mention it!

☼☼☼☼☼ Trying to work out if I should send email and if so how to word it

☐☐☐☐☐ mm

☍☍☍☍☍ be interesting to actually properly discuss it

☐☐☐☐☐ yep

☍☍☍☍☍ heck I’d be interested to know more of a history of the word basically teach properly why its offensive

☼☼☼☼☼ Yeah, I might bring it up in the tutorial different teacher, but maybe good discussion

☐☐☐☐☐ mm that seems appropriate i'd love to hear how that goes

☍☍☍☍☍ uhhh there was someone who used it at Bar Oussou  the host reallllly should’ve said something and I normally would but just too tired for confrontation

☼☼☼☼☼ Yeah ☐☐☐☐☐ was telling me Sounded very cringe

☐☐☐☐☐ v unfortunate most disappointed in yhe host tbh

☐☐☐☐☐ he maybe had a old-worldy attitude to it and didn't mind or was too cowardly lol which do u think?

☍☍☍☍☍ I think he thought it was in the context of the poem she didn’t use it to degrade someone directly, but the word itself is degrading

☐☐☐☐☐ ugh but the poem is in the context of fuckin oussou yep ppl need to have a think before using words

☍☍☍☍☍ I just think its great to have a stage to do emotional work, but it can cross a line into normalising shitty white behaviour

☐☐☐☐☐ mm

☍☍☍☍☍ I went to a coloured school so I can’t b racist wah wah wah

☐☐☐☐☐ and you have to consider your audience if your rant is dehumanising or brushes aside/causes suffering u gotta reconsider felt pretty ashamed on behalf of bartender/various black audience members not saying that dumb white shit would be acceptable with a different audience, but her obliviousness was kinda astounding

☼☼☼☼☼ wow yeah cringefest

☍☍☍☍☍ lol spoken word scene as a whole can b so lame haha rings true to why I/we left

☐☐☐☐☐ mm so macho! that's what I liked about talkbox some sensitivity there, gentleness

☍☍☍☍☍ still, I just wish people read more lok *lol

☐☐☐☐☐ yep I wish I read more

☍☍☍☍☍ like the stylistic range is generally pretty lame

☐☐☐☐☐ I guess that's why anyone reads mmm

☍☍☍☍☍ I wish I read more too

☐☐☐☐☐ hahahaha

☼☼☼☼☼ :')

☍☍☍☍☍ don’t mean to shit on everyon, I just think the scene as a whole and the conception of poetry is lacklustre - it doesn’t seem like the time for poetry, sometimes

☐☐☐☐☐ mm

☍☍☍☍☍ ppl too distracted by netflix uwu sounds like phones but too much

☐☐☐☐☐ doesn't seem like the time for art, sometimes! hahhh

☍☍☍☍☍ its definitely a time for music

☼☼☼☼☼ I think there's a place for poetry It's just raps and memes

☍☍☍☍☍ yeh but I play dat long game there might not b a place now but I’mma fkn make one whether you like it or not lol

☼☼☼☼☼ Oh yeah fair go 4 it

☐☐☐☐☐ loll

☍☍☍☍☍ I just mean that I think 'poetry' has evolved into other forms, and now the traditional form is struggling to find a place I mean does anyone pay attention to Victorian satirical cartoons? I don’t I think it’s also tho that the low brow is more apparent in the moment, the high brow more apparent from a distance the shit sinks, basically

☼☼☼☼☼ elaborate?

☍☍☍☍☍ time brings forward higher brow material while a lot of lower brow stuff falls back or like there’s an art for getting through your days, and there’s an art for elaborate long form spiritual liberation

☼☼☼☼☼ so u don't mind about a lack of audience now if your work has staying power?

☍☍☍☍☍ different works have different digestion time and yes that is what I’m saying

☼☼☼☼☼ hmmmmmmm

☍☍☍☍☍ hmmmmmmmm?

☐☐☐☐☐ personally I don't know whether I'm prioritising the reception of my work or its value to me right now i feel poetry/art in general are useful tools for thinking about the world useful philosophical tools i guess and idk whether i'm learning for the sake of my own knowledge/making 'better' art or learning so what I put out into the world is better received I suppose the two aren't mutually exclusive but yeah - feeling fairly indifferent to the idea of creating work that will persist right now part of me feels more comfortable with being lost forever lol or at least that I should become comfortable with that, bc that is what will happen inevitably

☍☍☍☍☍ I just think in this atmosphere of complete denial of the arts as an important component of society, as well as the stigmatisation of ritual and other mystical practices that used to house what we now might describe as an artist, its important that we follow our intuition rather than give in to a system that routinely prevents us having access to basic resources like I want to be there for whoever is there when this period comes to end and those peoples are looking for anything to rudder them, whether or not I’m alive

☐☐☐☐☐ you want to add to the cultural record?

☍☍☍☍☍ I want provide a map for future generations is how I would put it

☐☐☐☐☐ mm how do you feel one can ensure the persistence of their own work? or are you just hoping it'll be around for others I suppose whether or not anything lasts is out of ur control past a certain point

☍☍☍☍☍ for one I make an effort to give away a lot of work

☐☐☐☐☐ mm

☍☍☍☍☍ I also store it all and make sure that that stockpile is kept w care but I also think there’s something to be said that I try and operate within many pre-existing canons I also it’s important to use the more meme-y, short stay work to bring attention to the slower works yeah, re: canons, like tanka and before that wakka as poetic forms stem back as far as a thousand years - perhaps more by putting myself in conversation with the ancients... idk it feels a bit like entering a cultural refrigerator haha

☐☐☐☐☐ mm

☍☍☍☍☍ sometimes I find it better to see my individual works as modules that make up a whole more prescient than its parts (Morton lolz) soo... maybe my work won’t carry the same weight until I finish, so to speak who knowsss but this how I think about it lol

☐☐☐☐☐ best to try and contribute something I spose rather than do nothing w ur resources

☍☍☍☍☍ I’m weird with this shit u don’t have to be

☐☐☐☐☐ mm it seems fairly simple to me and not that weird

☍☍☍☍☍ not everyone should spend their life tending their gravestone it’s a job for a particular type of person, and I am it

☐☐☐☐☐ but in a sense everyone does anyway everyone does things with the future in mind or without it in mind I suppose

☐☐☐☐☐ and i guess that influences what you leave when you die eheh, whether you do it consciously or unconsciously

☍☍☍☍☍ I just am particularly stubborn that I have something to offer - I think its partially a result of being denied that a lot in school, I found other ways to have social bonds that were more... non linear bonds with past peoples, and inadvertently bonds with future people

☐☐☐☐☐ mm

☍☍☍☍☍ I find it frustrating that its seen as arrogant to suggest your work should be read after you die - if anything its remarkably humble as I'm acknowledging that I will never properly see the fruits of my labour it's a ridiculously isolating position to find oneself in, where your best friends - books, music, content - have no form of human intimacy with you and completely defy all survivalistic, lizard-brain humanity plus you're just on a total different dimension from most people you meet

☐☐☐☐☐ mm you're in a very specific position here

☍☍☍☍☍ lol goodluck catching up ☼☼☼☼☼

☼☼☼☼☼ unrelated btw

(☼☼☼☼☼ posts a meme in chat)

☍☍☍☍☍ see y'all @ da rally (in reference to the meme)

☐☐☐☐☐ where and when is this? oh oops thought you meant a real one

☼☼☼☼☼ hahaha

☍☍☍☍☍ xD

☼☼☼☼☼ structurally is the meme ok ? took the photo the other day, and just added the text.

☍☍☍☍☍ yes are u going to weigh in on the conversation tho lol

☼☼☼☼☼ nah not really

☍☍☍☍☍ meme fine

☼☼☼☼☼ I have so little to add

☍☍☍☍☍ well hm why make memes? why not write novel? do memes have staying power?

☐☐☐☐☐ it's a question of what timescale is important to you at any given time maybe

☍☍☍☍☍ oh absolutely - not trying to infer a hierarchy here, I just think there are different approaches for different problems

☐☐☐☐☐ sometimes I'll say something to someone so they'll remember it for tomorrow, sometimes I'll say something to someone and hope they'll remember forever lol mm I don't think I care about staying power that much

☐☐☐☐☐ memes have such a short lifetime, they're like cultural mayflies haha

☼☼☼☼☼ Yeah defs

☍☍☍☍☍ why tho lol

☼☼☼☼☼ Because the art itself can date while still inspiring change

☍☍☍☍☍ yeah so using it pragmatically like a single use tissue

☼☼☼☼☼ If you create something short lived, it (with the help of other artists producing similar work) is able to push art and society in a specific direction The butterfly effect I guess

☍☍☍☍☍ it's true that you have more effect in the current conversation

☐☐☐☐☐ mm

☍☍☍☍☍ but that conversation draws intensively on a language formed by the ancients so the two are dependent on each other, a back and forth

☐☐☐☐☐ and that's dependent on their work's longevity?

☍☍☍☍☍ not following ur question

☐☐☐☐☐ not following your point haha hmm

☼☼☼☼☼ so you're suggesting a works longevity is crucial in that it helps reinforce and update the ancient language in which short term work of the future will be influenced by?

☐☐☐☐☐ mm also - what if of all the work you make, it's only a meme that survives the passage of time?

☍☍☍☍☍ basically... like you're just reiterating points that have been made more in depth in 'higher' brow culture - that's definitely how I feel when writing raps

☐☐☐☐☐ like Roman graffiti surviving on the walls or whatever

☍☍☍☍☍ did you a hear copy of the I Ching, the Chinese numerology classic more than a thousand years old, was found in the 70s and had a heap more sections and a different order? effectively completely changing the understanding of the I Ching gotta get those nice lead storage chambers ayyyyy ahahaha it was found buried in a coffin, obvs haha

☐☐☐☐☐ mm

☍☍☍☍☍ a lot of Chinese philosophers only exist in so much as someone else described them

☼☼☼☼☼ But what does that changing of contexts of that piece actually mean for us? Is updated Ching from the coffin helping us in any way?

☍☍☍☍☍ I think for me finding the I Ching and looking over it is like a person in a thousand years finding a functional iPhone it gives great insight into human impulses regardless of time and offers a way of writing the past a new, which in turn presents a new future (thinking of the cowboy article you sent me) reconceptualizing the past IS the future look at 'Make America Great Again' or calls to restore the caliphate both are founded on histories that have more to do with our current state than the actual happenings of the past

☼☼☼☼☼ I do see where you're coming from I like the idea that it's important to preserve our work for understand the past better And I hope that someone in the future will have a clearer understanding of our time through your well preserved works But what fucking future is it

☍☍☍☍☍ haha but like looking back we see people been asking that for a veeery long time I get it seems on a new scale but we're on a new scale too

☼☼☼☼☼ It does seem that yes Also if we do survive and keep on teching on

☍☍☍☍☍ I'm for an integration of the human/natural binary where we properly acknowledge our mutual codependency, the earth and humanity that is

☼☼☼☼☼ Are we even going to be translatable? Is the functioning iPhone found by the future person going to even be able to be translated? Or will it be meaningless because everyone is already part of the grid

☍☍☍☍☍ where artificially effecting the climate for the benefit of 'nature' isn't seen as strange but completely akin to Aboriginal burn back practices

☐☐☐☐☐ i guess it's productive to hope that it will be translatable

☍☍☍☍☍ we've always interfered in the running of nature

☐☐☐☐☐ mm

☍☍☍☍☍ ehhh idk we translated fucking hieroglyphics

☼☼☼☼☼ Or future tech can look into the past and someone is watching our lives as we type this now, constantly being understood through our context in a way we can't comprehend through our recording processes shrugs

☍☍☍☍☍ I mean yeah, imagine if the internet was even vaguely archived

☼☼☼☼☼ You probably have a better understanding of how the future will pan out than I do tho

☍☍☍☍☍ even if 0.1 % was kept, it would be a massive resource

☼☼☼☼☼ No sass intended there, I'm sincere

☍☍☍☍☍ lol idk I just try to see a bigger picture and it keeps me calm remember me old saying? we survived the plague and nukes lol

☼☼☼☼☼ I just don't see the issue with creating short term work, especially if it is preserved

☍☍☍☍☍ oh neither do I

☼☼☼☼☼ Like a meme may have more impact than a novel rn

☐☐☐☐☐ well it could be argued that we're yet to survive nukes but I see your point impact on various timescales

☼☼☼☼☼ I've heard the plague make be thinking of making a comeback too haha

☐☐☐☐☐ mm

☍☍☍☍☍ oh duh peasantry is fully hip rn

☐☐☐☐☐ but like

☍☍☍☍☍ bring back the boils, they look great with my Balenciaga sneakers

☐☐☐☐☐ lol bubonic chic

☼☼☼☼☼ Pretty close to heroin chic tbh haha

☍☍☍☍☍ not jking that was tb

☐☐☐☐☐ but like, I don't find a huge amount of solace in the fact that we survived the plague

☍☍☍☍☍ "The Victorians romanticized the disease and the effects it caused in the gradual build to death. For decades, many beauty standards emulated or highlighted these effects. And as scientists gained greater understanding of the disease and how it was spread, the disease continued to keep its hold on fashion. and the severity of the corsets was known to harm the lungs in such a way that would increase the likelihood of transmission LOOOL

☐☐☐☐☐ mm Balenciaga look out idk it's a question of what capacity we survive in

☼☼☼☼☼ lollllll

☐☐☐☐☐ quite depressing to think about

☍☍☍☍☍ eating disorders have a pretense

☐☐☐☐☐ what if ecocide leaves a few insular eco fascist regimes who gradually diminish over centuries always engaged in pointless wars of attrition with one another lol

☍☍☍☍☍ I mean you could probably say the same thing of colonial regimes now

☐☐☐☐☐ just because we can survive, doesn't mean my outlook should b at all rosy :((

☍☍☍☍☍ point is its a big ol' world that has plenty of room for pain AND love any future pain you think is imminent probably already is happening, and nonetheless breakfast tasted good this morning

☼☼☼☼☼ 'The hipster middle class would dress with raggedy beards and large jackets and refuse to use deodorant, perhaps to reflect the look of people suffering from homelessness at the time. It is suspected that this made them less likely to be hired, and therefore more likely to become homeless themselves.'  ☍☍☍☍☍ ahahaha

☐☐☐☐☐ mm that's true hahhh

☼☼☼☼☼ Planning on making this into a full essay. Might not be popular now, but I think it has staying power? Soz for shitposting haha

☍☍☍☍☍ I was talking with ☲☲☲☲☲ a while back, and something struck me - she said, "I never thought this age would have its own fleet of particular medical conditions." (or something like that lol, translated via my nerd brain)

☼☼☼☼☼ Yeah that didn't quite sound like her But that sentiment is great

☍☍☍☍☍ 'fleet'

☼☼☼☼☼ In that ofc there is, but also wow yeah ofc!

☐☐☐☐☐ mmm hahh these conversations should be recorded so we can all think about em without scrolling up endlessly

☼☼☼☼☼ I do like the idea of people reading these works in the future tho

☐☐☐☐☐ and also so that they can be preserved for 10,000+ years of course

☼☼☼☼☼ In the same way we read the letters sent between dead artists now

☐☐☐☐☐ mm very true

☍☍☍☍☍ mmm

☐☐☐☐☐ messenger is not a particularly stable storage medium and also is more vulnerable to third party scrutiny although the fact we're reading artists letters now means that medium is also pretty fucking vulnerable to scrutiny lol

☍☍☍☍☍ I fucking found the word! (sorry was searching for it so hard) Neurasthenia https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neurasthenia

☼☼☼☼☼ Americanitis lol

☍☍☍☍☍ uhh the page doesn't rly talk about this, but its like a condition of over-working effectively, and people would try and get prescribed the pills to treat it as a way of signalling they were a dedicated worker its total hokey

☐☐☐☐☐ wow yeah you mentioned this a while back

☼☼☼☼☼ oh I've heard a similar thing in Japan were workers will pretend to fall asleep at their desks to show how hard they're working No idea the trust behind it tho

☍☍☍☍☍ to this day, "In Japan, shinkei-suijaku is treated with Morita therapy involving mandatory rest and isolation, followed by progressively more difficult work, and a resumption of a previous social role. The diagnosis is sometimes used as a disguise for serious mental illnesses such as schizophrenia and mood disorders." a dignified mental illness uwu none of that lower class shit I'm a classy fuck with money, I don't get the same mental conditions as the poor lolol reminds me of now: I don't have shitty parents, I just have adhd (not to deligitimise all uses of adhd, just over diagnosed)

☼☼☼☼☼ mmmmm i feel u yes this has been a wild ride

☍☍☍☍☍ yes I’m leaving to get late lunch uwu have a good day in this cosmic spider web lololol

☼☼☼☼☼ :')

☍☍☍☍☍ Like the burning of this charcoal fire, our years too will soon expire Kobayashi Issa listening to Krista Tippet talk with Maria Popova, this particular phrase resonated with our conversation: we live in a world where disruption over-fetishised; we need cultural stewardship to help along new waves of disruption

☼☼☼☼☼ How would u define cultural stewardship in a practical sense?

☍☍☍☍☍ caring for the legacy of those past as a means of refreshing their insight for a new age a very straightforward example would b the importance of new translations, in this regard - as our understanding and depth of connection to Japanese society has deepened, so too have our translations dusting off the books so to speak in some sense I see that in our music too or reappropriating to a new context

☼☼☼☼☼ Well remasters are a time terry literal example Fuck

☍☍☍☍☍ time terry

☼☼☼☼☼ Pretty* not time terry lol

☼☼☼☼☼ lime berry yeah exactly

☼☼☼☼☼ Slime Jerry

☍☍☍☍☍ I mean rereleasing is an obvs example mhm but more abstract examples are how I’ve exported into both your brains Bridle/Steyerl/Haraway via conversation and art lolol I’m helping it move from one place to another same w Zappa lol

☐☐☐☐☐ also - looking after artist friends being generous I feel these are acts of pre-emptive cultural stewardship

☍☍☍☍☍ haha yeah definitely different time scales it could function on

☐☐☐☐☐ looking after and maintain communities

☍☍☍☍☍ hosting open mics lol helping teach ppl poetry lollll

☐☐☐☐☐ not allowing hate speech to creep into open mics lol

☼☼☼☼☼ Truuuuu Or anywhere for that matter

☐☐☐☐☐ not becoming so dusty that you actually have a detrimental impact on cultural progression

☍☍☍☍☍ I think religions only exist in so far as they have active practitioners

☐☐☐☐☐ mm

☼☼☼☼☼ Tru

☍☍☍☍☍ I think my sense is, in religion, this same argument plays out with orthodoxy versus mysticism Maintenance of buildings is in there too for religion People being assigned paid positions as the keepers and givers of religious knowledge oh yeah thinking a lot here of Shanzai, ☐☐☐☐☐, and the idea of an object as a lived practice

☐☐☐☐☐ when home I'm gonna do my best to archive this conversation mmm

☍☍☍☍☍ you’re going to steward our conversation bout stewardship ...

☐☐☐☐☐ this is all going in

☍☍☍☍☍ ...the tv where I am says “The comedian getting behind ‘Know Thy Nuts’” and there are big walnuts on the screen

☐☐☐☐☐ ???????

☍☍☍☍☍ “I didn’t realise chemotherapy would be such great comedic material!”

☐☐☐☐☐ ¿¿¿¿¿¿

☼☼☼☼☼ Huhhhh

☍☍☍☍☍ lol highly recommend https://itunes.apple.com/au/podcast/on-being-with-krista-tippett/id150892556?mt=2&i=1000429408054https://itunes.apple.com/au/podcast/on-being-with-krista-tippett/id150892556?mt=2&i=1000429408054

[candy-corps]

Babysitter Duty

Ezayne belongs to @mygardenofmuses

“ … Ezayne” Bruce’ voice came from the other side of the phone line. He called with a withheld number, much different than usual, but maybe the former assassin won’t notice this detail, regarding the time of the day - Bruce’ call was at three in the morning. So far nothing out of the ordinary - what was out of the ordinary, indeed,  was the tone he spoke in: not cheerful, but serious, with his voice slightly hoarse. “ - you awake?” he joked half-heartedly, though he could hear him clear before and didn’t think of him as that kind of sleepwalker.

Ezayne was a bit startled by that call. However, when he recognized the voice, a wide smile appeared on his face. “BRUCE!” he squeaked. He turned around and sighed in relief, watching that Neela was still sleeping peacefully by his side. He got up and walked to the window. “Hey Bruce, yes, I’m awake. You OK? Your voice sounds a bit different.” “I’m so happy to hear you” Bruce said genuinely. “Um … no. Can you help me out?” Bruce asked, regretting that wording as soon as he finished the sentence. “Sure buddy! Anything for my best friend. What can I do for you.?” Ezayne asked, smiling a bit. As soon as he finished the call, he’d get dressed and go to check up on him to ensure he was alright. “ … some babysitting?” Bruce asked in a cryptic tone. Indeed, his eyes were closed shut for a second. There was no one else he could ask … “ - it’s just a night, or a day, I don’t know, they’re on their way, I mean - if it’s alright.” “Sure thing buddy… Who is the little guy on the way? Your brother, cousin, son…?” Knowing Bruce, Ezayne was open to all possibilities. “Or is a girl? Or gender-neutral? Just asking, I want the kid to feel comfortable.” “Boy. Damien, he’s ten and acts like 20. The other is 20, but behaves like ten, he’s Damien, too. They’re gonna explain. They’re my sons” he spilled eventually. “They might arrive at any time, I just don’t know how long it takes them.” “Oh wow! Whoa. So Damien and Damien Jr. Ffff… things like this remind me you’re actually older than you seem.” he chuckled, playing a bit with his hair. “Neela and Amil are sleeping right now, but don’t worry, I’ll take good care of them. I’ll go open the door for them now.” he commented, as he put his housecoat on. “Will you be alright, Bruce? If there’s anything I can do for you, just tell me.” “Yes” Bruce said, skipping the first question on purpose. “We got a problem, you … still don’t like demons, do you? The young one may … be … withonerightnow? It’s fixing his wings, it’s just a small one, they said - ” There was some shifting as he stood up - he’d been one one place for long enough and continued to run in circles by now.   “Uh… Buddy, you might ask your kid to take off wherever demon-esque he has into his hands, otherwise he won’t be able to cross the barrier.” Ezayne felt a bit worried. While the barrier was wonderful and protect both him, his family and the ghosts from all kind of demon-related dangers, it could be troublesome for friends like Bruce. Bruce threw his head back in frustration and just looked at the ceiling for a while. What was it with people and barriers that kept out all the wrong people? “ … can’t. It’s part, for a week they said. Then it dies.” Well, what now… “ … you could stay at the castle. Candy Castle. Remember?” “Oooh yes, I do! The old church, right?” Ezayne felt a bit nervous. He couldn’t help it, Kerberous had put that barrier for his well-being, and usually it was a good thing… but it often created problems to Bruce. He just hoped his friend didn’t mind. “Yeah. I was there, just … ” he calculated. “Um … two days ago. Lucy’s gone, you have the place for yourself. Just might bring some fresh food … and nevermind the notes. Indeed, take them away. The little ones might make connections I don’t want them make yet” he said urgenty. “You mind to stay there? It’s not long, as I say … and no demon’s gonna find you there. Zagam - ” And that’s where his voice broke. It wasn’t good to think of him. Bruce sighed on the other end of the line as he wiped another tear away that escaped his eye. “ - … tried” he finished his sentence eventually, his voice nearly inaudible. “Alright, I’ll get rid of those notes and check the place to ensure they’ll comfortable. Like a little apartment just for them.” Ezayne felt relieved, it seemed like the barrier didn’t bother Bruce all that much. However, he noticed the pain in his friend’s voice, and that pushed him to take off his housecoat and get dressed faster. “Bruce? What’s up? What happened with Zagam? Are you OK?  You can tell me… if you want…” “I don’t know…” There was another pause. As Bruce spoke on, he seemed a little more collected. “I worry. He won’t let me follow, just said it was dangerous. But he’ll be back.” That didn’t sound as convinced as Bruce had hoped it to be. “Eros is with him” he tried again. “Ezayne, I … I gotta call the kids, tell them to fly to the church. You meet them there?” he suggested. “Sure, I’ll meet them there. But Bruce.” Ezayne’s voice was serious. While the ex-assassin gave him freedom to follow his heart and do whatever he wanted; he truly cared for Bruce’s well-being. “I really don’t know Zagam, neither Eros. I don’t know who are they, what kind of people they are. But you know I don’t trust demons, and the fact Zagam isn’t letting you follow him… I don’t know you, but this stinks. Feels almost as if he was hiding stuff from you, and I don’t like that. There’s no relationship which will last if there are secrets. Believe me, I know by experience. Now call your kids. I’m on my way there. Wherever you are… you can go out, if you want. There’s always a better place.” “I wait till he comes back. When he comes back… I let you know. I’ll give the little one your number. Thank you, Ezayne. I’m in your debt.” Bruce finished the call right away - there was no time to waste. He had no idea what happened when Damien tried to pass the barrier Ezayne mentioned, but he for sure didn’t want to find out. It was good Damien knew where the old church was - all he had to do was text him and change their destination: Candy Castle. “It’s all good, Bruce. Anything for a friend.” Ezayne managed to answer before Bruce ended the call. He hoped that the barrier didn’t end killing the poor kid. Then again, he guessed Bruce’s kid wasn’t really a demon, so perhaps the barrier wouldn’t work against him. But it was better to be safe than sorry. He woke up Neela and Amil to let them know what was going on, and Morgana and Jeeves promised that they’d do anything in their ectoplasmic hands to protect Ezayne’s family. Comforted by the thought that all the ghost staff would be protecting his girlfriend and their son during his absence, Ezayne walked out of the manor with several blankets and food for the kids, including candy. Bruce’s kids surely liked candy too…Next destination: the Candy Castle. - The wind whistled through the leaves as Damien jumped over the gravestones to practice departing and landing. The boy had a couple of injuries due to their earlier training. Nothing serious -just a couple of scratches, a bruise or two. He was definitely still able to fight. So as the stranger came closer, Damien turned to the church behind him, considered to notificate the older one… and decided against it. They had no time to waste and he could handle a single opponent. By the time Ezayne came into view, Damien perched on a stone angel, his eyes all white in the darkness around them. “You are - ?” the bat kid asked, still a safe distance away. The blue-haired man couldn’t help but smile. So this was one of Bruce’s kids? He was very bat-like, sure his father was proud of him. He spoke with a soft voice, trying to show to the kid that there was no reason to be afraid. “My name is Ezayne. Ezayne Charles Raymond Moriarty. And you are Damien, right? Your father told me about you.” “Why should I believe you?” Damien called, still from afar. “ - despite the fact that you know my first name and where to find me, too” the boy wanted to know, not completely convinced just yet. Basically growing up on his own let him develop a good amount of distrust against strangers. “Well, because your father told me to watch over you and the other Damien tonight. What other reason would I have to be awake at these hours of the night? If you father wouldn’t have called me, I’d be all warm and comfy in my bed, sleeping.” he answered with a chuckle, amused by the kid reply. That kid was very smart, he liked that. Damien narrowed his eyes, even though he gave Ezayne a pass. He knew the others real name, too, thing that no one should know that wasn’t entrusted. “I don’t need someone to watch over me. I’m not a child” Damien recited his mantra and jumped down then, after all. “And I can take care of myself” he made clear and folded his wings on his back, the movement still kind of weird for him. The demon in his body kept them up for him still, even when he could feel it flinch with all its might as he tried to enter the church before. He ended up waiting outside while Dae tried to get rid of all the crosses within. “I’m sure you can, and I don’t doubt it. But your father gave me this mission. I can’t fail. He’s one of my best friends, after all.” Ezayne answered, speaking in a peaceful tone. “You know what, I have a son who is a bit older than you. He’s sixteen, and loves videogames. But he’s very shy and he doesn’t have too many friends. Maybe one day, when you manage to get rid of the demon thing in your body, you could drop by the manor and come to meet him.” Ezayne suggested with a smile. “Dad told you about it?” Damien realized. Well he might as well tell then. “It’s why I’m out here” he admit with a nod to the church. “Feel’s weird to get close. Dae said he’s gonna fix it, but he’s just so slow … ” The last words not meant for Ezayne, Damien stretched them out, meaning to tease the other one. “I can imagine so. Demons are often source of trouble, though your father thinks otherwise.” Ezayne shrugged, sitting not too far away from the kid. Perhaps, igf he seemed smaller, Damien would relax. “We always had our differences in that department. But we remain friends all the same.” “You’re the most normal ‘friend’ of my father’s that I’ve met so far” Damien admit, though he was silently wondering if that was truly the case. “He said we should stay here, but won’t spill quite why. I let him know you arrived” he warned Ezayne and took out his phone to send him a text. It looked like Damien had relaxed. That was something good. “Well, I have my fair share of unusual abilities… but just because you have an special ability, it doesn’t mean you can’t live like a normal person.” Ezayne answered, giving him a kind smile. “It’s strange that he didn’t tell you anything. Mmmh… This is starting to worry me. You call him. Maybe I’ll call him again, after you talk with him.” Damien glanced at the man and smirked slightly. His dad didn’t just keep him all uninformed then. He looked back at his phone and started to type. “I do not listen to any sort of order, just when it comes from my dad or my mom” he explained his disobedience. He already confused that Zagam with it, and when they were supposed to work together, it was just good to let Ezayne know about it. “Good, family is the most important.” Ezayne agreed with him to an extent. His family wasn’t tied by blood liness, but they loved each other all the same. “Who’s your Mom, by the way? I know you father dated for a while a woman called Amelia… now he’s with a demon, Zagam… but you seem much older than that. How old are you, by the way?” Damien finished the message while Ezayne was talking and hit send before he looked up to reply. “I’m ten. My - he says our - mom” he revealed with another glance at the church, “ - is a bad woman, so that may be why. She calls herself … catwoman, it should be her name in this tounge. I don’t like him that quiet for such a long time” he changed the subject right then. Dae didn’t even come out when Ezayne appeared and didn’t bitch back about the comment earlier. “Will you go check?” He asked Ezayne, knowing it wasn’t much use to try to enter himself. “A bad woman?” Ezayne arched one eyebrow. At first he wondered how much bad had to be someone to be considered “bad” for Bruce. Then again, Bruce’s standards were kind of special and certainly unpredictable. And women could be just as bad as men. “I’ve known bad women in my life, too. But 'Catwoman’? Sounds like the half villain, half superheroine of the comics…” he mumbled toward the end. “I don’t like that quiet either. This is not normal on him. But sure, I can go check. Can you follow me until the door of the church? I don’t want to leave you alone here.” Damien didn’t comment Ezayne’s musings, not even sure if he should tell in the first place. “It’s all good, we can hear another clearly so I let you know when I see anything and he lets you know when I do” the kid assured. They had a working system. He’d just practice like he did before. “…Alright.” Ezayne wasn’t sure if the kid was serious - they just had met, so he needed some time before he could judge. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate into calling me, alright?” After saying that, he made his way to the ancient church, hoping that the other Damien would be at least just as nice as this kid. He knocked on the door, trying to seem friendly. “Hello? Damien? I’m Ezayne! You father sent me to watch over you and your… I guess he’s your brother. Are you there?” The door was unlocked because the last one who used it had been Bruce, just some days ago. So when Ezayne knocked against it, it fell a bit open and let his voice echo through the small hall on the inside, up to Dae’s ears. The place had changed since Bruce lived in here, back when he was still new to Metro City. Rows of benches were still lined up, but the cross on the end of the aisle was missing. Candles got replaced for electric light, sideboards and cabinets filled with some treasures. Dae stood out in the middle of the big room, still trying to figure out the meaning behind the threads and notes that hung all around the place, most of them ending on the blackboard behind the podium, where that cross used to be. “Yeah! Yeah sure, come on in” Dae greeted the other and plucked another sheet of paper off a string. “Good to see you. Can you lend me a hand?” He asked and walked up to Ezayne to welcome him in. Dae was taller than his father Bruce, and unlike the small one, completely unharmed. “Oh, sure!” Ezayne rushed to help him. “Those are your father’s notes. Would you mind giving them to me? I can take them to him later.” That, if Bruce is still living in the same place that he showed me a while ago… he thought. “So… Damien, right? And the other kid is also Damien? Bruce must like a lot that name to use it for both of his kids.” he chuckled a bit, trying to break the ice. “Not quite” Dae smiled and flipped through the notes another time, but handed them to Ezayne as requested. He knew how to get information from his father, so there was no need for these. “I’m kiddo’s future version. I came here just some weeks ago and don’t intend to stay for long, but I thought while I do, I … might as well help.” Good he already gathered most of the crosses and his dad seemed to have hung up the glass of the windows. Sure not to let sunlight inside. Dae grabbed the smaller crosses he found scattered across the rooms and laid onto a bench then, just to keep the small one out until he figured things out. “Damien’s future version? That… kinda doesn’t surprise me.” Ezayne snickered, clearly not impressed, yet amused with the whole thing. “Bruce gets involved with demons, his son travels in time… Your younger self told me that your mother was bad but man, I’m actually wondering what is she like, because you guys really make an interesting family!” he commented, and looked at the crosses he was collecting. “Uh, why are you doing that? Do the crosses hurt your little self, or…?” “I bet they’re the reason why he can’t quite come in” Dae explained, still busy picking some of them up.  He overheard the conversation going on outside and aware that Damien was listening to them right now, too. “ - so I’ll bring them all out, along with the bibles and what I can find. We’ll have to test it again. Uh, what exactly are we hiding for? Some kinda robot?” he guessed into the blue, following the first few hints he read on the notes before Ezayne came in. “Honestly I have no idea. I met three robots in my life, two were nice people and one of them was a redhead psychopath.” Ezayne answered with a shrug. “But Metro City has worse dangers than that last robot I mentioned: demons out of control, the Doom Syndicate, assassins… Heck, even here myself, my hands are not the cleanest. But this city used to be a jungle some years ago. You missed the worst, kiddo. You’re lucky.” he patted gently his arm. “Yeah yeah yeah. Red-headed psychopath, you say … ” It was a long shot, but one worth getting into. Dae took a step back to gain some more distance. “Dad got attacked by one just the other - ” “Hey!!” the little one spoke up and interrupted the other. Damien stood right outside the door, but was still visible from the aisle Ezayne and Dae were standing in. “You might brief me, too?” “Really? Looks like bad weeds never die. Or so said my grandfather.” Ezayne shrugged, arching one eyebrow at Dae’s last comment. “Oh wow. I hope he keeps all of his limbs, that robo-psycho means business when she’s out to destroy everything.” It was then when he heard the voice of the young Damien. “Oh, hey kiddo! We’re almost done here! Damien, let’s get all this stuff out of here!” “Sure, here you go” Dae went without arguing over it, and left Ezayne a bunch of crosses to carry himself. “Eeep!” Ezayne picked up the bunch of crosses and left them outside, over one of the graves of the nearby cemetery. He remembered meeting Amelia here, and wondered what had been of the ghost girl. He never had seen her ever again after again. Turning around, he returned to the church with a soft smile on his face. “So, Damien, can you walk inside now?” he asked to the younger boy. “I … I’m not too sure” the kid admit. He was still lurking at the entrance when Ezayne came back to him. “You sure you got all?” “No idea. Come on, you act like a girl” Dae teased him. Though, indeed - yes, he was sure. The backlash hit the little one hard as he tried to enter first and … he didn’t exactly enjoy himself in pain. Whether it was his own body or the one of his younger self, who glared at him then.

#RP #Bruce RP #Bruce and Ezayne RP #Dae RP #Dae and Ezayne RP #Damien RP #Damien and Ezayne RP