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mayariviolet · 2 months

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I Don’t Smoke.

Pilot/ Episode One of ‘First Love/ Late Spring’

summary:

“So if you need to be mean, be mean to me. I can take it and put it inside of me.” // “I’m stronger than you give me credit for.”

Some letters addressed to Suguru before and after he defected were written by you, still in their sealed envelopes.

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cw: angst, no use of y/n, allusions to graphic violence, swearing, suggestive themes (but not really), references to blood, afab ‘reader’ x Suguru (I put the reader in quotations because technically they’re the ones writing the letters), fluff (if you squint really really hard), minor f! reader x Satoru.

a/n: I wanted to try something new! I love you, Geto Suguru! My bad for what I’m gonna do! Also on Ao3.

wc: ~4.5k

🏷️: @tacobellfreshavocado, @jeanboyjean (Reply below to let me know if you want to be tagged in the next chapters!).

September 2007

The day before, he defected…

Dear Suguru,

I'm slipping this under your door because I'm feeling a little exhausted after our last conversation. Even though it's been a while. I know our last argument has been 'solved' per se.

But consider this insurance if I don't wake up in time to say goodbye like I usually do! I've been feeling a little more drained lately; I'm sure you know why. I'll keep writing like this if this mission takes a long time. Although, I know we will talk soon. Good luck tomorrow!

With love,

Two days after he defected…

Dear Suguru,

It still feels weird doing this since we haven't talked like this since we were kids, but anyway. We haven't spoken in a couple of days. It's kind of like when we were kids, too. I guess. I heard Satoru and Yaga talking the other day, but I couldn't fully understand what they said. Only bits and pieces. It's like they cast a curtain in the hallway… haha… I know I'm eavesdropping again (don't tell my parents), but I can't help it! It's hard to get any honest conversations out of anyone here. Yaga is probably on our ass about that assignment we haven't finished. I mean- I'm just waiting for you to do your part. Suppose that isn't too much to ask.

Also, they should have fixed my door if they didn't want anyone to hear! It's still creaking! Maybe when you get back, you could also look at it. I'll probably slip this into your room again. But you don't have to respond right away. Just take your time. I know you've been busy going on all of these missions alone. I'm sorry about that. You're probably exhausted. I don't blame you.

Just know that my door is always open (unfortunately).

With love,

Five days after he defected…

Dear Suguru,

Satoru fixed my door finally! He truly is good at everything. It feels emptier without you here, even though it hasn't been long. But you'll be back soon to fill the void. If you visit your parents, could you tell them I said hi? Mine too. I miss them greatly, but I know our work will make them proud. Satoru has been hanging around my room more, even after some tough training sessions. It's friendly company, but it's not you. He won't tell me why he's always loitering in our my room.

I forgot to mention that he asked me to heal his hand in my last letter. It's strange since he can do it himself, but I digress. It felt… nice to be wanted. Even Shoko seems gloomy! Uncharacteristic for her… Do you think she and Utahime got in a fight? Anyway, she's been helping me with my technique and some hand-to-hand combat stuff! It's a little hard to follow, probably because we train in my room. I wish I were granted a little more space…

Shoko also helped me finish our assignment- we got an A! I hope Yaga isn't too mad, but he's been getting quiet whenever I ask about you. Rather weird, but not as weird as Kento's haircut, right?

They're calling for heavy rainfall soon (according to that sweaty weatherman we liked to make fun of), but at least it's better than the unbearable heat. However, you felt the sting of summer more than anyone.

If you're home, eat more and say hi to my parents! They always tell me how you'll change the world one day.

With love,

One week since he defected…

Dear Suguru,

Sorry about this letter being so close to my last one, but I feel bad. Kento's been avoiding me lately despite not saying anything about his haircut. Then again, he's been avoiding everyone. Do you think he knows what I wrote? Hopefully not. As I write this, I can hear him shuffling back and forth. Inside and then outside. His heavy shoes hitting the stone walkways reverberate in my room.

Haibara, being gone, has started to settle in even though I wasn't as close to him as Kento or you. Is the work we do… is it worth something? It has to, right? Otherwise, you wouldn't be taking so long. This letter is a bit of a throwaway, so don't worry too much about responding.

With love,

One and a half weeks after he defected…

Dear Suguru,

Kento left. The rain is starting to get worse, but it's still manageable. Thankfully, Yaga gave me that empty patch near our dormitory to start gardening. I'm planning on planting some yellow roses, amongst other things. They remind me of you. The cicadas seem to be chirping a little louder every night. Maybe they're having nightmares about Riko, too.

With love,

Two weeks after he defected…

Dear Suguru,

It's been getting bad again. I wish you were here.

Do away missions usually take this long? I can't remember since Yaga has kept me holed up. I forgot to mention that in my last letters. Something about the higher-ups wanting to 'keep tabs on Satoru and me.' It's weird because Satoru can strut around, but I'm just confined to the campus.

However, he is kind enough to get me sweets whenever he heads into the city (he teases me about my sweet tooth, but he's worse!). I'll have to get used to telling him which ones I like before he spends his money, unlike you, who always got it right. I think Satoru just likes to eat my leftovers…

The days are starting to blur together.

With love,

Two and a half weeks since he defected…

Dear Suguru,

I think my technique is getting worse. You'd say otherwise and that I'm only getting better, and then give me a big hug. Is it creepy to say that I miss the smell of your shampoo? Probably. But it was so strong that it burrowed into my senses, like Satoru's six eyes. Since you've left, I'm unsure what to do with my free time.

I hope the break you are taking from school is refreshing. Heaven knows you need it. Hell, you deserve it. The tree we used to read under together is already yellow and threatening to drop its leaves, and the sun is starting to set earlier. Shoko offered me a smoke, and I felt…relief. Maybe I'll start doing that instead of thinking about how you take your tea. Sorry, I know how much you hated the idea of smoking.

My parents stopped answering my calls (they have been for a while). Even writing this feels like a waste, but I know you'll respond soon. Feel free to do it in person. My door is fixed now, but it is always open for you.

With love,

Your dear friend

Three weeks after he defected…

Dear Suguru,

It's been hushed lately. The cicadas stopped screaming, but I haven't. I walk by your room every day. It's weird. I used to get annoyed whenever you and Satoru were loud, especially when we had early missions. I would storm into your room, ready to be angry, but then you would flash me that beautiful smile, and everything else seemed to matter a little less.

Sometimes, I think you guys liked to make me mad on purpose, but I know it was all love. However, in your absence, I realized silence is worse. Suppose you cared, probably not since you haven't answered my letters. Shoko said my RCT has been getting better than before. People keep saying I'm an "asset" because of it. It's stupid because I don't feel like one. If I were, then you would have asked me to come with you. I wish you asked me to go with you.

Your dear,

With love,

Your dear friend.

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October 2007

Four weeks after he defected…

Dear Suguru,

Sorry about the short letter. Satoru is a little freer these days, so I guess I found something to fill the silence. Digimon is cooler than I thought! It's a little hard to understand sometimes, kind of like you. He's been spending more time in my room. I hope that doesn't bother you, considering our last conversation. Then again, we didn't talk much before you left, so you probably don't remember. Please come back soon.

With love,

Your dear friend.

Four and a half weeks after he defected…

Dear Suguru,

I have been missing the way you make me tea. So, I've been desperately trying to recreate it to no avail. Satoru suggested I add honey, and it made it almost too sweet. Still good, though. I realized on my third cup that what makes it special is you. But enough of that. Today, Satoru has been giving me tips and ideas on what to plant next season. He suggested some lily of the valley or some iris! I'm surprised he hasn't tried to convince me to plant some flowers that are as blue as his eyes. Granted, they are beautiful. Sorry, I should refrain from talking about how nice they are. He's been itching to tell me something, but I told him that we should wait until you come back.

With love,

Your dear friend.

Five weeks after he defected…

Suguru,

Satoru finally told me what you did. I'm getting that shaking rage again. There's a pain so deeply woven into my soul that my technique could never heal. I know writing these letters used to help us solve our problems when we were kids, but honestly? This feels a little ridiculous now.

There's not much I can say other than I hope wherever you are, there's eternal suffering- that whatever vomit-soaked rag curse you consume next swallows you whole. How dare you do this to our my family?

There's no way you could have known this, but after our weekly dinners, my dad used to go on and on about you. How you were 'the child they never had.'

How fucked up is that? I remember thinking, 'I'm here too! I'm here too!' They saw no value in something that couldn't clean up the fucking trash they created. That much was true. You saw that every time my father made ME cry, he made ME apologize.

Imagine a CHILD begging to be loved when that's all they should ever feel. I was just a KID. How burdensome it must be to demand what should come as second nature for parents. Their pure vitriolic energy seeped into my heart one night, and I considered destroying everything.

You knew that, and it was YOU who stopped me. Just like how you stopped Satoru after that day. God, you're a fucking hypocrite! Well, that doesn't matter anymore, does it? I was so close to getting their love back to how it was when I was six and didn't know anything. You stripped that away from me. God, you are such an asshole. Did you think you were doing me a favour? I keep replaying our last conversation in my mind. Each time, it's getting fuzzier, like a broken VCR tape. Rather than trying to remember how you smiled (which I am glad I am forgetting), I see this dingy aura. This whole 'monkey' talk is just the ramblings of a broken man, and I am not your repair shop.

You're a goddamn psychotic and selfish prick. How dare you murder all of those innocent people? What happened to us, making the world a better place? Was it all a lie? Just like another drunken kiss, perhaps? These stupid fucking letters never did anything when we fought as kids, and both of our parents made us you apologize like this.

You've poisoned us, me. There's not much else I can write other than I fucking loathe you. I always did. You were constantly parading around like you cared about me. You were saying that your 'Special Grade' status would never get in the way. How stupid was I to think that wouldn't get in the way because you were supposed to care for me? At least that's what you said to me repeatedly.

You were right about that. It wasn't your status. It was you. It was always you.

Yours,

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January 2008

Three months after he defected…

Geto,

I don't regret what I said in my last letter. As I write this, the trees which granted us shade now threaten to break underneath the weight of the snowfall. Which we have been fortunate enough to get. There are icicles that hang on my window sill. Clear and cold. It reminds me of how you're soulless and void of any emotion. Ten years of friendship have gone down the drain for a fucking pipe dream.

And what a waste! When I scream at night from the memory of you, Satoru comes into my room now. He holds me until the sun rises and I've calmed down enough or until I pass out from exhaustion. I hope this information wounds the depths of your soul. If you even had one, to begin with.

A friend

Three and a half months after he defected…

Geto,

I've been smoking more.

Almost four months after he defected…

Geto,

Satoru and I have been getting close. I'm unsure why I'm telling you this again or even why I keep writing these letters, but whatever. I've been going on more missions. Digimon, missions, sweets, and then staring at the dust that coats your bedroom door. It's a little repetitive and draining, for sure. But then again, so was loving you.

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February 3rd, 2008

Geto,

Do you remember when we first met? I do. This slimy worm thing smelled awful, and it kept following me! It had just rained, so I thought, 'Oh, maybe it's just the mud that was still on my backpack after that kid pushed me.' Which was a little annoying because I was on my way to that grandmother's house to tend to her garden. No matter how far I walked, the smell kept following me.

You were trudging behind closely, and with one quick gulp, there was an overwhelming relief in my body. It was as if Sisyphus was able to complete his task. Then again, you're more like Sisyphus than I ever will be. I understand that now. Maybe that's why you kept me away after what happened with Tengen. Or, I should say what didn't.

I'm sorry I didn't do enough back then and also that I ran away after you helped me when we were younger. Then again, when I tried apologizing for running away while braiding your beautiful hair like always, you said it was fine.

I don't know why I'm writing this letter, to be honest. Maybe it's because I'm feeling nostalgic.

From your former classmate,

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April 2008

Six months since he defected…

Geto,

I have been thinking a lot about our childhood, our parents' expectations and just things of that sort. In general, I've been thinking about a lot and nothing at the same time. Mostly, I think about how stupid I am to keep writing to a man who would rather burn the whole world than try to nourish it. This is more for me than it is for you at this point.

My garden has been flourishing (well, it's attempting to). But Satoru is very encouraging when things get overwatered, and also a little annoying about the technicalities of it all. Satoru twiddling his thumbs while I tend to my wisteria tree is comforting, to say the least. Even though I know he is just itching to help. Sometimes, I let him.

From your former classmate,

Six and a half months since he defected…

Geto,

I think we're planning to move somewhere else soon, just as roommates, though. It was Satoru's idea. He made a good point of needing a change of scenery. Also, he has been very comforting in general, so I don't mind. I know whatever house or apartment he decides to buy will be way better than the hovel you're living in (hopefully).

From your former classmate,

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May 2008

Seven months since he defected…

Geto,

The house Satoru picked out is very nice indeed. However, I expect nothing less from a clan head. My room is spacious, and it overlooks some lovely green spaces. It is a nice break for my eyes. Thankfully, it's still close enough where I can tend to the garden on campus, but Satoru was also smart enough to find a house where I can expand my green thumb. If need be.

It makes me miss our old town. When we had the warm summer sun kiss our faces, the promise of a better tomorrow. I almost asked Satoru if he wanted to visit whenever he had free time.

Although, he always makes himself free whenever I ask. But then I remembered that our youth, or lack thereof, is simply a ghost that will always haunt me. He's a good friend.

I still hope you're struggling. However, from what I have heard, you were able to take over the Star Plasma Church quickly. Or whatever you call it now. Congratulations. You've become everything you hate.

From your former classmate,

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July 2008

Almost one year since he defected…

Geto,

It's approaching that time again. Sorry. I meant the anniversary of what happened. I think I have been able to process most of the merger that never happened. You were trying your best to stay as righteous as possible. I admire that about you. I've always struggled with that, but I guess I did better at masking it than you.

I know I said this before, but I am genuinely sorry about not doing enough back then. I went ahead and got myself stupidly injured when I should have stayed with you instead of following Satoru. He could protect himself. I'm not saying you aren't able to, but I guess I wanted you to see how strong I am. I want to say that none of it was your fault.

Although the hardship you've created after what happened with Riko is.

From your former classmate,

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September 2008

One year since he defected…

Geto,

It's been more than a year since I last saw you. Summer came and went. Satoru and I were actually able to get our schedules lined up to visit Okinawa. It was a little painful, and I was reluctant. But you know him, it's hard to say no. He even checked the plane for anything that would be amiss.

'Cross my six eyes and hope to die, there's nothing here!' he told me when I was annoyingly asking for reassurance. I couldn't help but feel a swelling in my chest that I thought would never return. Once we actually arrived, it was a very relaxing time (He's finally figured out how to make my tea just how I like it).

It was such a nice gesture, and he was kind about the whole thing, so I bought him some sweets and wrote a note. He asked me if I would ever want to return, and I was about to insist that you come as well.

Luckily, we arrived back in Tokyo before the rain started to pick up. I've been getting assigned more missions, but this is what I've been working towards. Cleaning up your mess, no doubt.

From your former classmate,

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August 2009

Almost two years since he defected…

Geto,

One of the more fucked up things in my life (other than continuing to write letters you'll never read) is how even after all this time, you are the only person I want to talk to. Shoko is going to school to become a doctor soon; from what I heard, Kento is doing well and- Satoru is a good boyfriend and a better dad.

Someone who knew you,

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September 2009

Two years after he defected…

Geto,

I should have clarified in my last letter I am not pregnant. There are parts of my body that will always belong to you, no matter who decides to enter our home. Satoru adopted this boy and his sister. I didn't bother asking how or why we spent weeks tracking two orphans.

I know, even if Satoru won't tell me.

It's a little daunting sometimes being young parents. But I'm trying my best not to repeat any mistakes my parents made. However, there are certain moments when I can feel my father's venom come out to try to sting Megumi or Tsumiki. I would never let that happen.

I'm getting stronger for their sake. Maybe I'll try to cheat my way through medical school like Shoko.

From your former classmate,

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December 22nd 2009

Two years after he defected…

Geto,

It's blistering outside but I will write something quickly as I am preparing for Megumi's birthday. Satoru and I have been making hasty preparations and a crappy cake (he insisted we tried when I said that I always wanted a nice homemade cake when I was younger) that will no doubt be replaced by one from a much better bakery. For a while, I was feeling jaded and jealous about how lavish Megumi's birthday party would be. But then I thought back to all of my birthdays those long forgotten years ago and thought about how I am so glad to have an opportunity to shelter a child from that experience.

In my reflections, I remembered your sleepy eyes and face smeared with an ice cream vanilla cake that your parents bought for me. I was fuming. Especially since my dad forced us to take a picture shortly after. I did a pretty good job of hiding it, though.

While moving to our new house, something fell out of my journal. It was the picture of that day. I'm sure you've thrown away your copy to forget your old life rightfully. Tsumiki came into my room right as I was about to put it away and asked who the dirty kid was in the photo. At first, I thought she was referring to me, but when I asked her to repeat the question nicely, she pointed to you. I told her the truth.

'It's just an old friend.'

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March 2011

Three and a half years after he defected…

Dear Geto,

There are so many letters I have written, but I decided this is the best one for now.

Satoru is kind enough not to notice my fervent writings to a man I've been mourning who isn't even dead. I understand what you did. Sometimes, I'm even jealous that you had the courage to take action. You were trying in your way.

I have always felt like a passive observer, but now that love I carried for you burdens my family instead, with Satoru taking the brunt of it. I don't know if you remember, but you told me you wanted that. A family. Our family. Then again, I was half asleep, and I could have dreamed of you whispering that to me as I was lulled in the safety of your arms.

Wherever you are, I hope someone can give you what you deserve.

From an old friend,

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September 2012

Five years after he defected…

My Dear, Geto,

I apologize for not writing that much. Then again, no designation could ever accurately describe our relationship. There's not much else to say other than I miss you. I finally cut my hair, not by choice. My son decided that gum belonged to my hair rather than a tissue thrown promptly into the garbage. I was annoyed, but then I remembered what a blessing it is to have him in my life. The ability to live in a world free of curses… I hope you're able to give it to him.

Maybe he'll inherit his father's technique one day. Perhaps not six-eyes since it seems a little exhausting. Once he's a little older, we'll find out, and then I will finally be able to return to work (despite Satoru's strong objections) alongside Shoko with less worry. Then again, if he were not to have a technique at all, I think that would be a greater blessing.

I do not wish to pass on the burden of our sins.

I just hope that if the time comes and he has nothing to protect himself from this unforgiving world, you will spare a child who has the wonder in his eyes you once had.

If I'm being honest, I knew you would never come back. I understood that the moment I slipped that note under your door only to find it unlocked and stripped clean. Still, a naive part of me kept writing and hoarding all the love I had for you in the hopes that you would one day return and take it all.

My garden, both on campus and at my home, is sprawling. In the spring, my children like to play in the large backyard pond. They're careful not to disturb the lotus that I've been careful to curate. Sometimes, I blink, and there are flashes of our childhood that I see. Specifically, summers which were spent in that grandmother's yard, tending to her vegetables and running errands. I hoped you would never tire of me dragging you along to this random grandmother's house, but deep down, I know you liked helping her as much as I did. It was a nice escape from the chaos of it all. I really started dreaming in those peaceful moments spent with you in that old house.

I have forgiven my parents, and now it's time that I try to accept what you did, along with the things I cannot change.

There has been an unnerving comfort in speaking to the ghost of who you once were. This will be my last letter for a while. Even though my writing, in general, has been sparse. I have a family, after all. I'm sure you do, too. I may be imagining things, but lately, these twin girls have been popping up wherever I go.

It seems stupid, I know, but they remind me of you despite their brown hair and large eyes. Both of which emit a warmth that I once felt whenever intertwined. In another life, maybe they could have been ours. Satoru listens to my concerns and is quick to calm me down. Ever since he's been checking in on me, I don't have nightmares anymore.

Sure, some nights are more challenging than others, but he whispers such lovely things that I can't help but fall asleep faster than I did with you. Sorry. That was an asshole thing of me to write. But I thought you would like to know I am being cared for.

You were my first love and best friend. My one and only.

With love,

Your dear, friend.

a/n: This is my first time trying this format, and I really like it! I might try it with another series of characters once I finish this. Also, the other chapters are written, but I am very anal about editing, so they're gonna have staggered uploads throughout March and April!

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starsologyy · 4 months

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𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ─ 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 [𝟎𝟎𝟐].

002. ─── ✦ DRUNK IN LUV [SERIES MASTERLIST} ✧˖*°࿐

synopsis ─ [31 DAYS LEFT TILL THE EXAM] gojo takes home his drunk girlfriend, who's actually geto's little sister, and aka, somebody he is NOT suppose to seeing at all.

content warnings ─ alcohol usage, curse words, and etc.

NOV. 9. 2007. 8:54 PM. GOJO SATORU’S POV.

satoru knows it’s a dumbass idea to be next to the girl he can’t have. especially at a public library he rented at night, but it was cheap, and no one could possibly blame him.

if one was asked to elaborate on this institution of knowledge as a birthday venue, one wouldn’t classify this place as a profoundly enormous architectural masterpiece due to its inadequate funding, which lacks to achieve something grand in that matter.

it’s rather pathetic, looking at it. the knowledge that surrounds them has insufficient funds to where they have lost the dignity to not plaster a scroll of edo period art on the beige walls. but the old lady who runs it; hired satoru a couple of months ago, doesn’t seem to care much.

and satoru isn’t shown to care either since he rented it out for a birthday party for teens who wanted to drink. (when it was only her and him together…)

yet, he feels as if the old woman does care somewhat. she’s bitter, rude, and slips insults off the tongue like the sound of books off the shelves (she wouldn’t be able to hear herself any other way at this age) when he does the shelving wrong. but she’s not always a senile old woman, satoru thinks. she’s nice enough to spare him from a five hour lecture to not spill a single liquid of beer on the ancient books.

It was only four hours today.

but never mind that.

he knows he should feel terrible, bottled with immense guilt because he hasn't told his best friend, suguru, about how he likes his little sister. and yet, satoru oddly doesn't feel any of those things.

and satoru gojo, he knows he’s fucked for his apathy.

“satoru!” kana whined, kicking her restless feet against his thrifted, acid washed baggy jeans, “i’m sooooo tired. do you have water?” she asked.

impersonating the spider web that hangs on the corner of the shelf beside them, his barrage of intertwined thoughts rip as he pops his head out of the cramped space and his eventual hangover to rapidly nod his head.

the snow fallen haired boy soon passes her a bottle of water, watching her chug it.

satoru can’t help the grin growing on his face. “maybe you should go home, you can’t handle your beer.” he teases with a cheshire-like smile. kana scoffs at him before laughing a moment later.

she leans on the table at the end of satoru with a flirtatious expression, “accompany me home then idiot.” kana teases back, and the male’s crystal light eyes widen in a bit of a shock at that invite. the top of his mouth even shrivels as he tries to aimlessly smack his rosy lips for a bit of random moisture.

“ah well—”

kana rolls her eyes. “my mom won’t see you! don’t be a pussy satoru.” she frowns, “i’m not some fling you’re hiding, am i?” she said as she gave him a side glare, and he rolled his eyes after he shook his head no.

being afraid of your girlfriend’s mom and your best friend (her brother) will see you, is NOT the same as having another girl on the side, satoru screams within his head. he’s surprised after dealing with her temper and chaotic mess he hasn’t gone ahead and found a different girl yet, but that’s her charm (supposedly at least).

“okay, first of all,” he explains to kana. “if i was hiding you, i would cover up your face with a paper bag everywhere i went,” the boy laughs, wrapping his arm around her shoulder as she scrunches her face. “and don’t do that, you’ll get wrinkles and look like an old hag if you keep scrunching.” satoru adds in a sing-song manner.

“also, accusing me of being with other girls is also pretty much saying I’m with an old hag. like we’re 90 years old and I looked at some girl at a bingo game because—”

“just shut up.” she scoffs, pinching his cheek in response before settling down.

she doesn’t do it hard enough to hurt for long he realizes, even if he could technically handle it. satoru pretends as if someone shot him in the foot.

“OUCH!”

“FINE! fine! uragh, i’ll drive you home, so you can’t complain to me. happy?” he shouts, pouting at the same time. though, it turns to an uncontrollable soft smile when the cerulean in his eyes rise as similarly unmanageable waves, to now mesmerizingly swirl in his pupils once it witnesses the sight of the joyful contortion of her lips.

“really!? and don’t call me some old hag anymore! for the life of me.” she groaned, and he rolls his eyes to confirm his little tease will be over.

kana smiles, forcing him up by suddenly jumping up from her seat similar to the cartoon characters plastered on the scratched walls behind him. satoru laughs boisterously at this, only to witness her also hop on his rather wide back once he also leaves the table, wrapping her muscular arms around his neck to rest her head on his shoulder.

“you’re heavy!”

“fuck off!”

he clicks his tongue, holding onto her thighs to support herself on him. the silence between their lips pursue the delicate tread of the frail bliss known as comfortability. he didn’t mind the lack of their chat. It doesn't last long however.

“seeeee, you know you like this,” she drunkenly cheers, her clumpy coats of onyx mascara with the shade electric blue on the tops fluttering lightly on her lashes as she takes in the fresh air once they step outside of the library. “how could you not love this? you should drive me home more,” she giggles. the alcohol seems to have set in, and her incredibly soft hair tickles his chin.

“and waste my gas? yeah fucking right,” he yawns mockingly, and she scoffs as she kicks her legs back and forth (ensuring to leave him a bruise for injuring her egotistical pride.)

“ouch!”

“what’s with you and injuring me?” he grumbles.

silence seems to have fallen off the thread of comfort now as he’s rather feeling uncomfortable from the sting of hard sneakers hitting flesh.

her little ‘hmph!’ reminds satoru that it would mean dead silence between them, killing the conversation and giving tension between them as they both struggle to generate another, but he actually finds it opposingly soothing right now.

they soon end up in his navy blue sports car, kana in the passenger seat as she rubs her eyes a bit. she’ll regret it later he realizes, but satoru stays silent as his engine rumbles obnoxiously loud, probably waking a couple of crying babies nearby. oops. not enough to wake her up though, so he hopes those moms would forgive him.

──────────────────────────────

the drive isn’t supposed to be long, but the time it takes to arrive to kana’s house stretches far into the greedy hands of eternity. it desperately holds both souls in the stillness of the blinding rich glimmer from satoru’s sports car, and yet as dreadful as infinity may stretch, he continues this sloth like pace, driving painstakingly slowly, and prolongs the inevitable.

the last time satoru gojo drove this slow, is when he first got it on his sixteen birthday and mommy wouldn’t pay to get scratches removed.

yeah…

the reason he drives slowly though, is because he just doesn’t want to deal with what comes with pulling up near the drive through. yet he holds that breath of polluted city, or whatever how much a suburban town in the middle of nowhere can be considered a city, just at the center of his adam’s apple. kana sits restless, and exhausted at the same time somehow throughout all this.

she’s a bit naive, satoru thinks. for getting into a car with a man, to clarify. she trusts him sure, but caution lies clear in folktales of those who have been hurt by the ones they hold the most dear.

she disregards fear like an idiot living near a radioactive plant. it’s impressive, but he’s the one who agreed, so he’s her neighbor in that dumb scenario. he stays silent as she rants about whatever drama could possibly conjure in the hellhole of the 2nd year of a suburban high school.

but to be fair, she runs her mouth like an american sprinter about far less worse things than what he used to hear at his old, stuck up the ass, high school, before he got caught sneaking out at four am and was sent to this town like some mass isolation.

“and then he said it’s not his fault he had to cheat because she just wasn’t getting his needs you know? but I was like nooo are you insane—”

…

“kana?”

…

“you there?”

he glances over at her, and his brows raise to the top of his head at the sight of the slight drool lining her glossed lips. the emergence of a buried sound of snoring in the rippling silence of a rural town where no one dares to stay up past twelve o'clock (or be faced with their mother’s rapid pull on rather sensitive ears) makes him chuckle. it’s amusing to watch, sure, but he quickly rests eyes back on the ever winding road to not crash his expensive ass car into a boulder.

he really does need a new job. and soon. but maybe watching your girlfriend sleep should be a job in itself he thinks.

satoru’s arms soon rest easy on his thighs as he gets comfortable with this road back to her place, just an easy step on the gas he also needs to refill. he’s unconsciously keeping a steady pace to not wake her up, but he denies it to the gentle, beating of his stone cold heart by saying he doesn’t have the cash to waste another gallon or purchase another tire to go over a pothole carelessly.

also, he doesn’t want to wake up some family like he did a while ago. after another five minutes or so, they reach their destination.

──────────────────────────────

he glances over once more. “wake up ugly.” the cheeky boy provokes, pinching the chub of her cheek to leave it a hint more rosy than what kana normally brushes on her cheeks.

“or else i’ll kick you out for not paying me back for gas.” he mutters to himself, his scarred muscles (from being outside more than some barbaric creature who resides in forests) almost shuddering at the thought of paying those ever increasing expenses.

kana’s eyelids slowly rise to the sight of the slightest frown on the boy next to her, but they almost already fall shut once more from the alcohol she ingested a while ago. her lips remain shut while her head remains slugged on the back of his white leather extravaganza of a vehicle.

“we here already?” she murmurs.

“just got here.” he nods.

a part of his aching soul is fond enough of kana, that as the girl holds near and dear inside his very calloused soul, he silently pursues the question of letting her sleep a while longer if her hangover needs so. but he disregards that thought.

the longer he stays, the more likely he is to be caught. even if he wants his girlfriend to get the sleep she needs.

kana raises a brow in turn to somehow telepathically question why he hasn’t launched some mischievous joke to wake her up. he can tell what she’s asking from that look in her eyes.

“since its your birthday and what not.” he quickly adds, as if to deny a disgusting softness that may cultivate in the gentleness of his self if carefulness continues to lack in the streamlining of hushed words.

“oh. okay.” kana sighs, a yawn escaping soon after as she rummages through the back of the car to find her onyx bag. it has a bountiful bunch of multivariety printed pins stuck to the painfully clear false leather of measly fabric and the same galore of cheap key chains stuck to the strap and zipper, but it seems more endearing than he is to her.

he’s joking, obviously.

there’s a quietness now as she continues to try to make sure she doesn't forget anything, and it’s usually familiar, but satoru feels a lump like he wants to gag and renchingly expel the hideous bile of his very stomach from its personification of a burden to ask why it exists. the silence from a bit ago was comfortable. now it’s noticeably not.

why is she quiet? she normally talks his damn ears off when she wakes up, as much as he does her. it’s giving him an unfamiliar goosebump, similar to when he sees a seven foot male at his basketball games. essentially, it’s not good.

at all.

it shouldn’t be there, and his need for the expulsion of a cheap beer isn’t this feeling either. it’s not the same, even if he doesn’t like to drink very often and pukes after a sip. satoru only drank beer today for kana honestly, but he usually sticks to more sugar cube filled mockery of these drinks more often than not.

she’s gotta be pissed off for sure, or satoru is in hell for not throwing away the empty milk carton from when he wanted cereal from this eerie silence.

“you mad at me?” he hums, looking outside the clearness of his driver’s window (that he only cleaned yesterday to impress her).

silence again. he looks at her once more. did he wake her up too early? he doesn’t think he did (but men never know what they did wrong he learned).

“why would i be mad?” she scoffs, resting her bag in her lap as she then begins to pick up the things she keeps forgetting to get back from his abyss of a car every other time she enters his car. for example, like that vampy lipgloss from the dollar store, she keeps forgetting it, and always forgetting to take it back.

“you just seem mad all of a sudden. i don’t know. did i suddenly fuck up, your royal highness?” satoru sighs.

“well, i’m not. you’re just reading inbetween the lines.” she glares out of the blue, and his similarly colored cerulean eyes droop at its very cold sight, like her being merely upset freezes him more than what winter may do in the essence of the common occurrence called frostbite.

he goes back to looking away though, yet she can somehow notice a snowflake of shame as a glimmer in his eyes that she stares at quite often in the haze of her slugged drunkenness.

“so you are mad.” he states with a sigh leaving his lips after he does so.

she doesn’t respond for a moment.

“and if i am?” maybe she’s on her period satoru wonders. just maybe.

“i drove you home though, like you wanted.” he seems to be insisting of a conversation that may drive him mad the more she could have the time to glare at him in this enclosure of a car. he shrugs, trying to open up a door that probably shouldn’t be touched. “did i forget to do something else? did you want flowers?—”

“just open the damn car door. im like a prisoner!” she responds, angrily trying to open the car’s side door after picking up her forgotten lip gloss. he grabs her wrist in a rather harsh manner, but it softens at the realization of a small wince on kana’s very face.

“sorry—but, i wanna talk. i know you’re mad at me, but I thought we had a good time at your birthday party, and you know, i can’t understand why you’re mad all of a sudden,” he mutters, “and for being so dumb.” he

adds, and while he repeats the word ‘sorry’ like a broken cd, she knows satoru says his sorries and apologies as much as meteors appears in the very calming night of this town. or a tsunami and what not.

satoru doesn’t intentionally hurt her. yet, it’s this time where retribution once more comes forth to punish the way kana’s senseless rambles attempt to shelter her from his notions of affection. he wants to know why he hurt her, but the countless occurrences she has pushed him away has comes to haunt her and her fragile femininity in trying to express herself currently.

she shouldn’t need a man to help her feel better, she thinks.

her endless polarity of moods continue to antagonize her in a manner that she will never be someone that she wants to be without agonizing over the smallest matters. it’s a shame when she looks at the worry in his eyes again that she's the cause of.

they’re pure, and hers are troubled. she doesn’t know how to express herself in a matter of care and gentleness in which other women have been characterized to have known since their heart has beat.

it’s easy to talk to the boy about anything but her feelings truthfully.

she looks down, because she feels the uncomfortable warmth lining her tear ducts.

it’s weird, crying on your birthday, she thinks. especially over such a good guy like satoru, she just can’t get the words to slip as much as bile does after a crappy special night out. he carefully holds her for a moment now, as if she’s a fragile piece of glass, letting her head rest in the scent of his woody cologne.

“did you care when i was talking about that random girl earlier?”

huh? he thinks, raising a brow. she doesn’t know how else to distract him. she’s drunk. who’s going to blame her?

“not really, but i guess it was fucked up her boyfriend cheated.” the white haired boy murmurs. “are you mad because i didn’t show interest, cause i was listening it only didn’t seem like it because—”

“because you were driving, i know.” he raises his brow at what could she be annoyed about if it’s not about that, but he stays silent. “i don’t know what i’m mad about then.”

he’s about to open his mouth but, “i don’t know. okay? maybe it’s because im buzzed. it just happened all of a sudden okay? you know i don’t cry often it’s just you know, you know? right?”

she’s repeating words like a mad man, he thinks. crying like a jester on display after a ball falls from the juggle of his rather childish act. she fits the role of one oddly enough, but he likes the spontaneity of it all.

“so you’re upset at me because you’re drunk? because this happened all of a sudden you know?” if he says the words ‘you know’ one more time, he might bang his head.

she nods.

he sighs of some sort of minor relief despite not understanding it. “you’re always an emotional wreck after a beer.” he grunts, and she rolls her eyes, her fingertips obnoxiously wiping away her sudden tears as if she wasn’t wearing smokey eye makeup at the moment.

she’s glad he’s not forcing her to say more. he’s glad himself he won’t have to provoke her to another mess of her drunken mind. he’s not equipped to deal with the mental breakdowns, but he still allows her to ramble endlessly about others, and then cry in his arms about nonsensical matters. despite him being the forbidden fruit she wants to taste his bitter lips, so she kisses satoru despite it all, savoring the sweetness of his love despite the fact suguru would kill her for dating his best friend.

taglist? <3. just comment below!

#jjk getou #jjk gojo #gojo fluff #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen shoko #jujutsu geto #jjk fanfic #jujutsu fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fic #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk #geto fic #jjk shoko #shoko ieiri #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen geto #jjk suguru

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jewishcissiekj · 1 year

Text

Alright, so Cissie is back.

(Green Arrow (2023) #1 cover art by Sean Izaakse)

I feel like I’m calm enough after the unbelievable burst of excitement and happiness this cover gave me when I first saw it, so let’s talk about this.

First off, I have to say that until I saw this cover last week, I didn’t think Cissie should be Arrowette again, and this cover gave me different ideas and hope for Cissie’s future, so my judgment might seem clouded.

So first, to any Meghan Fizmartins and co out there listening who have no idea why Cissie quit being Arrowette, here’s a “brief” summary:

After her Counselor and mother figure, Dr. Marcey Money, gets killed by her ex-boyfriend, Cissie (rightfully) throws a fit and blames the lack of gun control in the U.S. as the reason for the murder. After that, she puts on a darker version of her Arowette costume (the same one Sean Izaaksa used for the GA cover), and goes to hunt down Marcey’s killer and his friend that was with him. During the chase, Cissie questions herself how much of a “Good Guy” is she, chasing down these men like that. At the end of the fight, she fires a killing shot from her bow, intending to kill Dr. Money’s murderer, when Superboy comes out of nowhere and catches the arrow. Then, she runs away and cries, confused and distraught. In the next issue she’s in a catatonic state following her actions, and after she gets out of it she breaks her bow and declares it’s not hers anymore. In the next issue she quits Young Justice. She makes it clear she never wants to be Arrowette again in the rest of the series, saying she can’t lose control again and talking about how her mom forced her into the hero life.

For a much more extended and detailed version I recommend reading Young Justice #15-17, it’s a great story and a great read.

Now, she has donned the Arrowette suit a couple of times after quitting, most, if not all, were pretty weird and out of character.

Starting off, we have that creepy thing in Spyboy/Young Justice, which I’m not 100% sure is canon at all, but it’s still worth talking about for a bit. In this miniseries, Cissie doesn’t actively choose to be Arrowette again any way, with Kon & Bart stealing her clothes while she’s in the bath and replacing them with the Arrowette costume, basically forcing her to put it on. They did give her a choice as to which costume to wear, the darker version from before or the usual one, and she chose the usual one, but I don’t feel like we should really give them credit for that. After that, she walks around in the costume, but doesn’t shoot a single arrow (she almost does, but she gives up on it) or fight, and is really just Cissie in a costume and less Arrowette. She also talks about how her friends are uncomfortable with the ‘Cissie’ part of her and they don’t know how to react to her with one of the spyboy characters. Overall I don’t hate it, except for the way they actually got her in costume.

Next we have the most confusing one yet. In Wonder Girl (2007) Cissie tells Cassie she could always go back to Arrowette for her (and later on in the miniseries she actually does), Completely disregarding her quitting storyline. That might (probably) be the writer’s mistake, but I’d like to think Cissie was at a point in her life here where she made peace with the whole “Arrowette” thing and with her mother and is just willing tp help an old friend with her slightly unusual skillset. She also previously hadn’t completely associated her archery with Arrowette (she competed in the Australia Summer Games an won a gold medal during ‘98 YJ), so maybe she’s just come to peace with that part of it all now. But since that is never specifically said in the series, I’m only assuming stuff.

Since then, she wasn’t seen as Arrowette or in general for more than 10 years, only showing up again in Young Justice (2019):

There’s no real explanation for her coming back this time other than, again, like last time, she’s made her peace with Arrowette and is only helping an old friend (Conner, this time) dressed in the most generic Archer-superhero outfit that came out of nowhere. She was barely in the series, but her return was handled badly anyway. Unless, of course, you’ll consider my theory from the previous time she came back canon, it’s pretty annoying that Brian Michael-Bendis brought her back, instead of Anita for example (which would’ve made much more sense), even after stating she was retired.

Now we have my least favorite handling of Cissie post-quitting.

Oh, Dark Crisis: Young Justice, the definition of shattered hopes.

This is complete and utter bullshit. Not only Cissie kept being an archer after quitting and had several storylines in Young Justice (1998) related to her archery outside of Arrowette, Cassie not only knows that, she was literally there for half of it. Cissie is an archer, and that’s a part of her that she pretty much completely separated from her Arrowette persona, and she made that clear in more than a few instances during the original Young Justice run. I hope Joshua Williamson isn’t taking Cissie character lessons from this run, which not only handles Cissie quitting weirdly, but is outright spreading misinformation about Cissie.

Has Meghan Firzmartin even read the original YJ run? I don’t think she did, at least not fully. Cissie quit because of very specific reasons I've previously stated, not this. She also has a good relationship with the rest of Young Justice, and definitely doesn’t see them this way.

Even though Cissie isn’t Arrowette at any point in this run, it feels much worse than any of my prior examples. Also, she is basically running around as Arrowette there, just without the costume. I hope the new Green Arrow series will ignore DC: YJ, because it’s just bad.

So to sum it up? I’m not completely disappointed Cissie is Arrowette again. I do hope Williamson will actually handle her past and not make her a whole new character for his run. I think a Cissie as Arrowette story can be interesting, if it’s at least implied she felt with her trauma from her quitting incident and made peace with everything the name and the costume mean. However, with all my high hopes, I'm still being realistic and I'm gonna say I don’t think I'll get everything I want in the new series. The series is currently a mini-series of six issues, unfortunately (but preorders might change that and give us more issues! Preorder the first issue!), and it tackles a seemingly large cast of characters with a lot of mysteries and questions around them and their appearance in the book. And with the actual plot being them trying to find/retrieve Ollie from where he was last stuck in in Dark Crisis, I do think there'll be space for good character interactions but not for a lot of individual character exploring. Overall, I think the series will handle Cissie’s return basically how YJ (2019) did, with a mostly unexplained return, but I guess a girl can dream about more.

#cissie king jones #arrowette #green arrow #Young Justice #green arrow (2023)#spyboy/young justice #wonder girl (2007)#young justice (2019)#dark crisis young justice #long rant but i think it's worth it #if you read all of this thank you #I'm impressed #Joshua Williamson #Sean Izaakse

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gerardpilled · 1 year

Note

Thank you for posting your and other's sensible opinions and comments on Lindsey Way! The majority of the hate she receives really just boils down to the misogyny that women in the public eye have faced since forever (especially when they are in a relationship with a man* people love). There are valid critiques to make for some of the stuff she has said/done, but it isn't any different than the criticism we should give to...every other person. When you research what she has actually done in the past, you realize that calling her a monster or evil is just misogynistic. Call her an ignorant queer white woman, sure. But she's not absolutely irredeemable and awful.

I agree. Like I said I don't feel comfortable fully belittling her cases of racism, but I don't feel comfortable doing that for anyone including myself lol. You're completely right about the transparency of where the hate is coming from. [cont.]

People get all up in arms when you point out that the hate towards her is rooted in being mad she's married to their fave, but that's definitely what has always fueled this discussion. Yeah maybe some think they have evolved past that, but they have to reflect and think about why they're holding her to such a high standard.

The mindset has ALWAYS been negative towards her. Those who were around circa 2014-2017 might have remembered there was a bit of a Lindsey Renaissance where a lot of people were posting positive stuff about her. I personally didn't see a whole lot of hate directed at her that couldn't completely be written off as crazy frerardies, but I'm sure it existed. The immediate reaction to their relationship and marriage seemed to have been almost completely negative. I saw an old kerrang article where a girl wrote in explaining she was disappointed Gerard would marry someone from a band that promoted such sexism. As if Gerard somehow was more feminist than the WOMAN he married. A lot of fandom around this time was super focused and honestly inappropriately obsessed with the details of Gerard's sobriety, kinda as if it was their job to help him maintain it. These were mostly young fans so I can't blame them completely, but their attitude really set the tone for this stuff. Even today that kinda manifests in people thinking Lindsey is abusing him in some way and it's our job to protect him. Which is None of our business. Gerard is an adult who obviously has friends and family outside of her.

Anyway, yeah here is a photo I found on Flickr posted October 2007 that really sums up the crazy invasive and infantilizing behavior a lot of people were exhibiting:

#abuse mention /

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mirrorballtales · 3 months

Text

I don’t need therapy.

Yes I need therapy but I don’t need someone to point out everything wrong with me. I do that every waking moment of my life. I don’t need another being to analyze me. I don’t need it. I do that every second. You think after years of everything I wouldn’t sit here and ask why? Not why me? Just why? Why did it happen and why am I so fucked up?

I don’t need to pay someone to tell me what I already know. I don’t want to talk. To anyone. I try not to starve myself just because they won’t talk to me but I think this is the only thing keeping me alive. I wish I could articulate, paint a map and point where it all went wrong and the path I’ve chosen. How do you draw a map of your suffering when your pain is such an imposition? Where would I even start? Does my story begin before conception? After? When I pried my little hands from that man choking my mom when I was five years old? Or does it start when I tried to die at seven? Maybe I could draw out that huge gap of memory I have. The one that starts with me being a little girl in a little red convertible with a man and his hands on me and him buying me candy? Then it goes black. Or do I begin at eight when they’d starve me and slam my head onto the wall because I refused to stay quiet? Maybe when CPS made their visits and my mom made me lie? Or should I start at 12 years old when I returned from a funeral and my mom gave me the silent treatment and the scumbag of my biological father punched me simply because I was failing a class? Or do I start at 13 in August when I first lost any and all control and I left my body for the first time? At the hospital where I felt safe? May 27, 2007? Or my 14th birthday? Maybe September 11, 2007? Where do I start? Tell me where do I begin? I don’t want to talk right now. I just want to forget everything. I wish I could drown. Never come up from the pool. Maybe I should get some sleep.

I think a lot about these days. And everything in between. I think about the days I stopped living. The days that blur together. I think about how I had to survive. Not live. Survive. What I did to survive. How I starved myself. Cut myself. A saboteur in training. And I think about how I think maybe as much as I am living I’m still surviving and maybe that’s all I get to do. And maybe I am the problem. Maybe I don’t get to blame them anymore. Maybe I’m the problem.

I know I push people away. I can’t help it. It’s automatic. Like my entire system functions on me pushing everyone away. As much as I need them I force them out and isolate myself. While I have trouble trusting I don’t trust myself anymore. Afraid I’d let anyone love me and then they take it away. That’s all I’ve ever known and sleeping in the dark seems so much safer now. I think for so long I believed I did deserve to be loved that when everyone ripped it from me they also ripped away my entire belief system. I look in the mirror and in that reflection I realize maybe I’m not meant to be loved. In any capacity. I’m meant to be tolerated. That’s me. It’s safer to admit that and to accept it. I’m begging to be the footnotes in the stories of their lives. If I know where I stand with people, if I tell myself they only tolerate me out of pity and they give me their bare minimum then it won’t hurt when they leave. Not as much. It won’t devastate me the way it always has because I love so deeply and it’s something I’ve begged for since I could breathe. I am really tired of fighting for people to love me just the same.

It’s easy for people to retort and say no no that’s not true but it’s easy for me to tell you that actually it’s very true because the very people who swore they loved me and would never leave actually did that the first chance they got. I know why. I’m so hard to love. You go low I go straight to hell. I go for the jugular. I fight dirty. I fight hard. My bite is stronger than my bark, it leaves bruises and scars and maims. My words shoot to kill when I’m mad. Who wants the memory of knowing me? I’ll tell you this is who I am and I can’t change and I’ll tell you it’s me spiraling and I’ll push you away because it’s all I know because I cannot for the life of me let myself believe that people actually want me in theirs. They don’t. Maybe my grandpa. I think he did. To be fair I was probably not as fucked up then but honestly, I think melancholia was fed to me and it runs through my veins.

Want an example of how fucked up I am? Want to know how fucked in the head I am? When my mom kicked me out, when I left and my only choice was the street I called the only person that would pick up, the person that had been abusing me that past four years. I begged him to pick me up because everyone else had a fucking excuse. Well maybe not one friend. She did let me stay with her and her mom was an angel but I overstayed my welcome. She never said I had but I just knew they’d say it soon, so I left. I called him begging him to get me and he did. I was out of my mind in so much pain I didn’t think of the consequences of this. I didn’t think I was in any danger until it was too late. I had tried call the only other person I believed would get me and he didn’t come, I emailed incessantly, begging him to just take me to a safe house, his response, “I am on the verge of breaking and I can't be of more help to you. I am relying on you. I am sorry that I cannot do more for you and that I am tangled up with other issues this week and then going out of town. I am so sorry for all of this. I hate that this is happening and that I can't do more for you.” Yeah he was sorry just not sorry enough to drop what he was doing to help me. So I called the person I hated the most in the world.

He drove in his gray, BMW, with the heated seats, and I sat in the front seat after being coaxed like a fucking abused dog. And he brought me to that apartment again. The one with the wooden door. With his ugly leather chair and sofa, his ugly carpet, the ugly speakers, the ugly old dining table for four. His homemade paintings that lacked any soul. His wall of Lakers memorabilia. His pictures of his youth. His empty bedroom he said I could have. His broken lamp, the one he never bothered fixing after I threw it at him, his corner with the Rolex he said I could have if I wanted. The ring box he said had a ring because he’d convince me to marry him one day (somehow this I find the most disgusting out of it all). The comforter he placed over the large window in his bedroom because he said he needed it dark. His tattered burgundy comforter on the mattress. The nightstands where he laid out beer years before and shoved down my throat. The reason I can’t stand the smell to this day without throwing up. I have that bedroom memorized that if granted the gift I could draw it for you. Not missing an iota of a detail. I remember the smell of him permeating that godforsaken place. I seldom think about this time. I think of the before and the after but it sickens me that I begged him for any help because everyone else left me. There was only darkness. I didn’t eat. It surpassed my eating disorder. I simply couldn’t function. I could not eat. He actually encouraged it. He said he’d help me get to 70 lbs because that was my goal. I was close. So close. I’d weigh myself every hour. 90, 89, 88, 87. I don’t think I ever broke 85. If he saw me eat he’d tell me to go throw it up so I’d feel better. For a split second I thought maybe, just maybe this is as close as I’d get to ever being taken care of, mind you at this point I was out of my mind in love with a guy. The guy that emailed me and told me he just couldn’t come get me. Don’t worry this detail is incredibly important. See, when someone rapes you repeatedly, you disassociate. You leave your body. You think of Paris. You forget to breathe and you go silent. All you hear is yourself reciting numbers. You go 1,2,3. 1,2,3. You think about the letters in Paris. You think about how you might kill yourself tomorrow. Then it’s over and you go shower and try to rid yourself of everything. You cry and beg to die. I locked myself in that room as much as I could. It was summer so he was on his break. And he’d bang on the door until I’d finally answer and I would be dragged from my mattress all the way to the bed. I had no strength. I don’t even know if I fought back. In my head I did. I threw up that night. It seemed to give me a respite for about two weeks. Then all the lights were turned off. The guy I was madly in love with, without abandon, let’s name him Henry (it’s not Henry but I would never write his name and I don’t know a Henry anyway so it works) well Henry was getting really tired of me. He said and I don’t blame him, “Maybe you need to heal. Maybe in five years. . .” And I would say in five years what? What, when I’m not fucked up? I praise him, boy, he really thought I’d be here in five years, I wasn’t sure I’d make it five days, and he just said “I can’t do this I can’t deal with this, it’s a lot” at the time I was so angry he said this. He knew how bad it was. He knew everything. Well not everything. He knew a lot. And he just said he couldn’t deal with it. He’d started his first adult job in his chosen career and I was not what he needed. Looking back I don’t fault him. I don’t. But my heart was breaking. I wanted to be in his room. In his bed. In his safety and even though he said he loved me everything he did after said otherwise.

Back to my abuser. He found out about Henry because I had a different tumblr account back then (I still own it and I look at it from time to time) and I documented everything. I forgot to delete my history and he read it. I think part of me wanted him to know that everything he’d done didn’t rob me of falling in love. That my girlhood was still mine. That I was still a teenager capable of loving someone just never him. It’s one of the worst mistakes I ever made. For a spectrum of reasons. I won’t go into detail. I have photographs of the bruises and how hard I fought back. Then he found out where he lived. And his number. I was no longer interested in my survival. I didn’t care. I knew Henry was washing his hands of me but I couldn’t let him die in the crossfire of my life. So my abuser told me I better drink and put up or he’d kill him. To this day I believed him. He had an empty stare I couldn’t shake. He brought a bottle of alcohol and said start drinking. No food in me, skin and bones, he made me drink half a bottle of vodka. Maybe more. Things blur at this point. I remember I went to the bathroom and hit my head on the tub. I fell twice. I called Henry begging for him to get me. I wanted to die. But not here. Not with him. He did come. He hadn’t left for his trip yet. I ran down the stairs and this part I’m telling from what he told me. He says I fell crossing the street to his car. He said I had a black dress on and he said I was out. Not moving. Just slumped. He says he took me to his apartment and tried waking me up and I wouldn’t respond. He says he shook me and he knew I was close to death. He called 911 and he says as soon as they got there I threw up over and over and over again. He said they rushed me in the ambulance. The police came that night to talk to him and ask him who’d given me alcohol. I was only 18. He was obviously drinking age but he’d never provide alcohol. I’d teased him that he was such a goodie two-shoes. He followed all the rules. He was fundamentally a good person with ethics and morals. Followed all the rules in the book. He called my godmother. That’s where his part ends. Sort of. I woke up the next morning. Alone. I fluttered my eyes open, adjusting to the light, the room, clearly drunk still. The doctor came in and asked how I felt. Like shit. Where was Henry? What happened? I was so confused. I was cold. I couldn’t move. I asked him what was going on. He said, they had to pump my stomach, my blood alcohol level was, get ready for this, I’ll never forget the number, .42. He looked at me, he was a good looking doctor actually, he looked at me and said, “Were you trying to kill yourself?” How could I answer this? I wanted to die. Just not like this. Not that day. I told him the truth. I said no. He asked me what happened. I had bruises everywhere, I said I must have fallen even though those were there before the alcohol was in my system. To this day I’m not sure how I survived that. Henry saved my life. He did. And for that I’ll always be grateful for him. What he did after though, still hurts me. A lot.

I woke up alone, like I said. Scared. No one was there. Apparently my godmother had come and seen me but left. Surprise. She called my mom who didn’t bother coming. Surprise. She said she’d give them my insurance information through the phone. I called her. I was seven years old again and begging for my mom. I was crying and begging her to let me go back. I told her I didn’t want to go back to another family’s house. I didn’t want anyone. I just wanted a hug from her. I told her about the teacher. I told her everything. I begged her to come see me. She said in such matter of fact manner that she was done with me. She said she was disgusted with me. I was too. She said, “You’re no longer my problem, I have two other kids to worry about. With you gone, we’ll be better for it.”

I hung up and cried. I remember going to the restroom after. That catheter was disgusting and I made them remove it immediately. I just needed to feel human. I remember wanting to rid myself of any alcohol. I drank copious amounts of water but couldn’t keep it down. I kept throwing up. Finally, I’d mustered every singly ounce of energy I could and called Henry. I knew I’d called him the day before. I knew he said he was coming to get me. That’s all I remembered. He answered. He was so quiet and withdrawn. I was apologizing. Telling him it wasn’t on purpose. Begging him to believe me. I don’t know if he did. I told him what happened. I told him I was fucked up. That much I knew. I knew I didn’t deserve him and he didn’t deserve this. I was sorry for getting him involved. Still I wanted him to come hold my hand. I wanted him to love me. I needed him. I needed it. I needed for someone to come tell me I wasn’t losing my mind. To pick me up. In every sense of the word. I needed him to take me home and at that point home was him, and I just needed to see him. I needed him. But he didn’t come. He said he was really sorry but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t handle me or this. He said the police knocking at his door was his final straw. It wasn’t a break up. It felt like he was just erasing himself from my world. He was ripping any memory I had of him and shredding it. I told him I had no one. I had no one to get me. I had no clothes. No shoes. Nothing. I told him I really needed him. He didn’t come. I was so angry. I’d loved him for how gentle he’d been. He promised to always be there and then he wasn’t. He asked me not to call him and to leave him alone. He’d be going on a trip and wouldn’t be available to be reached anyway. He wished me luck and told me he loved me. I wish the doctor had asked me again if I wanted to die. I would have said yes. I just wanted to die when he hung up. I called again and it just rang. Over and over and over and over again. I’ve forgiven him. It wasn’t fair to place this on another person and as much as it hurt me I know it was really too much to ask him to love me back but it killed me.

I was in a hospital bed and after answering a million questions and convincing this crisis guy that I wasn’t suicidal (although I really was) I did the only thing an abused puppy does. I called the guy that put me in the hospital and begged him to come pick me up.

I still remember his laugh. It was maniacal. Like he’d been waiting for the gauntlet to drop. He had worn me down and broken me so much that no one would ever want me and I’d have to call him for help. He was a master manipulator. A master at his craft really. He came into the room and showed me a picture he’d taken of me when I was drinking. I was wearing the black dress, the one I remember buying so Henry would think I was pretty. Now covered in my vomit. I still have that dress. My niece asked to have it. I told her it was hers whenever she felt she had a place to wear it. I’ll never wear it again. It wouldn’t fit me now anyway.

He brought me back to his apartment. The mattress was missing from that room. It was his bed or he’d kill me. Henry was gone from my life. I had no fight in me. I was depleted of life. It was just bones and skin roaming this world. Days blended and I think I slept and was in a world of darkness for weeks.

Some time during those first couple of days back, though, I went to Henry’s apartment. I was angry. Hurt. Confused. I felt like I was being abandoned by someone I let in. Even if I’d only let him in halfway. I didn’t have it in me to go with grace so I showed up to his apartment. I thought maybe if he saw me he’d change his mind. He’d take everything back. He’d tell me to stay. He’d beg me to stay. He let me into the building. That was a good sign, I thought. Then I knocked at his door and he let me in again. His apartment was pristine. Decorated with soul. It was a warm hug. Not some college frat room with a tv, and a mattress on the floor. He had a headboard. He had a nice set of towels. He had an organized kitchen. Every piece in that apartment was thought out and placed with care. I was the antithesis of this. And he knew it.

I twisted myself in threads to be here and he just sat there. Staring at me. I didn’t want him to look at me anymore. It felt like he was disgusted with me. Or worse, he felt pity. I broke down. I had a panic attack. I saw it in his eyes. He really meant what he said on the phone. He couldn’t do this. He wouldn’t do this. It was his choice. Again, looking back, it wasn’t fair to him. I couldn’t see that then. I remember taking off the necklace he’d given me on my birthday. I little heart with tiny stones. I held it for him to take and he said “it was a gift.” But I didn’t want gifts. I didn’t want reminders of this. I wanted to leave. I wanted to get out. I just wanted the sweetest words to remain. I left the necklace on the counter. We fell asleep. I woke up to a note. He was really leaving the next day for his trip. Under the note he left me money for a cab ride. And the letter I’d written him months before. His note said, “Despite what you think I am sincerely trying to do what is best for you. Your safety and well-being is all I care about right now. I know you probably feel like I am letting you down. I am sorry. I am doing all that I can. I know my decisions often times upset you but I only make them with the best of intentions and with your safety as my number one priority. We can figure everything else out later. Please understand where I am coming from. We need to make sure you are in a safe situation and have a safe place to stay. That is what I am focusing on right now-- please understand that. I am sorry that I cannot do more for you. You’re strong. You will get through it even if you’re alone. I just can’t be a part of it.” Fuck being strong. I hate when people tell me that. I didn’t want to be strong. I wanted to be safe. He wanted nothing that would remind him of me. So I left. I left no trace of myself. I’d become nothing but a ghost to him. He was fine losing me. Everyone was. Everyone is. I couldn’t find my pulse anymore. I never knew how to be something they’d miss.

Then Henry emailed. Then he called. Weeks later. He wanted to know I was alive. At this point I was getting ready for college, with the assumption I’d escape this place. Yeah, my abuser essentially kidnapped me or abducted, guess I was an adult then. But what other choice did I have. No one wanted me. No one wanted me in their life. I just needed to survive then I’d figure out my life. But, Henry called and he said he’d been wrong that day and overwhelmed and being someone who never did anything wrong having the police in his apartment was too much. I believed him. I really did. He was careful. I was careless. He was calm. I was chaos. And I loved him. I didn’t know it then but I just wanted him to ask me to stay with him. Not literally. Just in every other sense. I wanted him to tell me it would get better but it think he knew there was a big fight ahead of me.

That summer I did escape. The teacher had finally left for a week to Vegas and he thought I wouldn’t leave. I took my things and a cab ride to Henry’s. I gave him every piece of me. Willingly. And he took it. Then I did what I’ve always done. I ruined it. Late September it all became too much. I tried to leave everyone and everything. Took my entire bottle of pills. It broke him. I was out for three days. Although he said he would wait until I was conscious enough to hold a conversation he left me, again. Then, we had the conversation and everything I’d believed crashed into me. I didn’t regret anything. I felt free for just those few times. I think he thought I was selfish for wanting to die.

He’d grown up in a perfect world. He didn’t understand mine. Sometimes it feels like none of it was real. Like he didn’t exist. Like it was just a movie. It was so lovely to just lay there with him and feel like I could live. Like I could fall in love. I could sit in comfort. I couldn’t even recall the last time I was kissed. Long story short I survived. That heartbreak was different because I know it wasn’t one of malice. I was just too broken. I still have the letter I wrote him. The one he didn’t want to keep. I left with scars and he came out without a scratch. I think he saw me as a sad song he got tired of listening to it. I gave him my best me’s but all I did was bleed. I was fading and I was begging him to say something, to risk something, to choose something. He became my Gardens of Babylon. I don’t begrudge him though. I was just left feeling like a crumpled up piece of paper. With words no one wants to read.

I’m hurt but I no longer blame him. I was too young, 18, my frontal lobe wasn’t even fully developed. I have always been too much. In the end, I’m glad to have been able to walk away. I don’t begrudge him. I don’t. It’s like at that point - I needed that temporary relief to feel human again. The skeletons in my closet fucked it up. It was nice to believe even for a moment that someone thought I should stay alive. It was nice to believe in a moment, although fleeting, that I was light in their darkness. That they were okay with the way I was. I don’t even recognize who that was. There was happiness because of him. I will never regret that. And really the story wasn’t about him anyway, he was just a road I took. A mere diversion. A pause. A respite to my hell.

And I still feel it everyday. Like I am too broken and because of it no one can ever really love me. I think every single relationship in my life, every single one, from the youngest to the oldest, from my family to friends is surface. I’ve been rejected and now I just know that I’m broken inside and who wants this in their lives. So yes every single feeling I have stays hidden inside. I’m all over the place. Fallen from grace. I feel like I’m just lost in this place and all I do is cry. I think Henry would laugh and say “told you so” and yet here I am, wanting so badly to have anyone, anything, to just hold me, and tell me I’m not alone. But they don’t know about my past and even when I give glimpses I hide things like this because nothing is meant to last. Not in my life. I want so badly to just jump off the edge and believe them when they say I should stay but there’s no solid ground below. I don’t even think there’s a hand to hold. Every time I think I should just reach out and someone will grab me to safety I pull my hand back because I don’t even want to be left alone in a hospital room again begging for the same man who ruined me more than anyone to come save me again. I’m so afraid I’ll need someone again and no one will answer but him. I won’t survive him again.

There’s nothing I’d love more than to believe I am loved. If my mom called and said she was sorry I’d nurse her to health. I’d tell her I’d be the mom she needed. There’s nothing more I’d love for them to say “yes your past is ugly but you’re not and I want you to stay. Here. With me.” But this darkness has fooled me. And I think all lights have turned off for me. I don’t think I’m the character people want to save. I don’t think I’m the character people want to love. I don’t think I’m the character that gets to live. She just gets to survive in silence. At least that’s what I see in the mirror. I will never ever ever become an imposition again. Never again. So I’ll push you all away and I’m sorry for that. Who would want me here anyway?

I read the emails where I was begging, BEGGING with such fervor to be loved. To be held. To be safe. To be wanted. To be protected. By anyone. By everyone. I will never do it again. Never again.

Sometimes I think fuck if I could just find a reason. I’d stay. But I’m broken. And I don’t need a therapist to tell me what I know. So no, I won’t stay.

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declinlalune · 11 months

Text

Well Read || Andy & Leah

TIMING: late may. PARTIES: @phoenixleah & @declinlalune SUMMARY: andy goes to leah's bookshop in search of ... crab knowledge. CONTENT WARNINGS: none!

Andy wasn’t quite sure what she was looking for. She knew she wanted to find something on the ooze, but whether or not there was anything available was another question. She’d gotten some of her own curiosities about the situation answered by a number of different people, but nothing concrete. If their cabin was in danger of being swallowed by the fracture that’d formed just a few yards away, then Andy wanted to be prepared for what came next. The idea of having to move again after finally being settled for a number of years was enough to piss anyone off, but especially her.

“Hey Leah,” Andy held up the book on toxic sludge that looked old enough to have been one of the first books on earth. It had some weight to it, but so far, none of the information inside was anything she needed. “You got anything on ooze? Like the stuff that’s been coming out of the cracks around town because of that whole weird mine thing?” She pushed the book back onto the shelf, only noticing the fact that the sign above them did in fact say vintage, but the book itself was dated to 2007. “Also, what the hell is your return policy, and why did you take that back?”

There were too many duck books. It had grown past duck herding and moved onto mating practices, species, taxidermy- anything you could think of. Leah’s supplier had no idea what she was talking about when she inquired where they were all coming from, and she was too intrigued that the situation might be supernatural in nature to really put an effort in to put a stop to the whole thing. She was in the middle of writing a sticky note to herself to look up duck spirits at Scribe HQ when Andy grabbed her attention.

The book that she was holding up definitely did not belong in the shelves of Fully Booked, and must have been put there by a well meaning employee who didn’t bother checking in first. “That uh, is mine, actually”, she said scurrying toward where Andy had slid it into place, gingerly sliding it back out. “Research project, you know.” After placing the tome underneath the front register, she turned back to Andy, clasping her hands together in front of her. She pressed her lips together. Andy wasn’t the only person in town that had rushed into the store, trying to find context or history or anything that might explain the current goings on in a town where there was always something to talk about. “Nothing that quite explains all of this, unfortunately. We do have this…” she said, scooting around Andy and grabbing a copy of ‘Sludge: Disaster on Victoria’s Goldfields’, and handing it over. “Kind of similar to what’s going on here, I guess, though I doubt the running experts are blaming what’s happening in Wicked’s Rest on pollution”. She raised her eyebrows, but didn’t say much more. Leah wasn’t one to delve too much on knowledge of the supernatural, not unless she was speaking with someone she knew… knew. And Andy was trustworthy, sure, but Leah didn’t know much more than that.

“Any reason you’re so invested?”

“Research project?” Andy watched as Leah took the book from the shelf, then shrugged. “Right, I mean, I guess that’s what this sort of is for me, too.” Andy worried the inside of her cheek with her teeth. Really, she should have taken the town’s emergency response unit for their word and let them do the work, but she’d be stupid to think that they were actually capable. Not to mention, Andy didn’t want the first place that felt like home to be taken over by crabs, fissures, and ooze. Not that there’d be much she could do to stop it, but being aware was better than being ignorant. Maybe she hadn’t really left that behind in the whole hunter gene pool thing; preparedness— it acted like a tether back to that world.

“Huh.” She took the book from Leah and looked it over, flipping it open and scanning some of the first few paragraphs. “I’ll take a look at it, sure.” What Andy thought she could do against the sludg-y ooze, even if it did happen to take over her’s and Alex’s cabin, she wasn’t sure. “Yeah, I doubt it.” Her gaze cut up to meet Leah’s and she smiled softly at the other woman before setting the book down at the register.

Leah’s question made Andy laugh. It was her self-allotted battle— to be too concerned, or to let the town handle it. “One of the fissures— cracks, whatever you want to call it, opened sorta near my cabin. Want to make sure I know what I’m dealing with if something else happens, or if it starts to really ooze.” She scrunched her nose up and shook her head. “It might be dumb, but I’m sorta used to being my own emergency responder to these kinds of things.”

Leah took Andy’s shrug as a good opportunity to drop the subject, hoping she wouldn’t ask about it again. She was great at making up something on the fly about the various ancient tomes or artifacts that inevitably found their way to her, but it was always easier to just not have to answer all together. The look they shared, Andy’s knowing smile, it made Leah pause. It was a hint that she knew the town’s secrets, right? Or it could have been gas, she supposed. She thought about Abuelo Luis, and how many times he must have gone through these questions in his head before ever speaking his theories outloud, only to be met with disbelief by their family.

“I mean it’s a start, right? It might not explain exactly what’s going on around here, but maybe it can point us toward a proper, effective clean up. If not, there’s nothing wrong with indulging in a little informational literature, even for no apparent reason.”

She nodded at the new information, understanding Andy’s plight. “Not good. You know how unpredictable things can get around here. And how inactive rescue services can be”, she said with an eye roll. “I don’t think it’s dumb to realize you can’t rely on the authorities in this town to act effectively”, she said with a shake of her head, thinking back to her parents' stories of the night they found her. “Are you opposed to looking into… other forms of protection?”, she offered, chewing on her lip. “It’s totally weird, and probably nonsense, but there are a ton of people in this town that think that charms and talismans might be able to protect homes from natural disasters if you get them from the right shop.” Leah knew how effective the spellcaster’s trinkets from down the road could be, but she ran a hard bargain. “I mean, any help is better than none, right?”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right.” How much of the ooze Andy personally wanted to be responsible for cleaning up was absolutely zero. Shouldn’t that be up to the town’s board to take on those measures? Unfortunately, it might have meant cleaning duties for Alex seeing as she worked in the park’s department, even if it was only an internship. She let out a small breath before tucking the book to her chest, arms crossed over it as if she were a schoolgirl. “Spoken truly like somebody who owns a bookshop, Leah.” Andy grinned at the other woman, knowing that knowledge could truly save the day, even if it weren’t about the ooz-y obsidian crabs.

“No kidding. I haven’t personally experienced it, but I’ve heard enough from people in town, and I’ve seen it enough in the papers. Seems like they only want to handle when a cat gets stuck in a tree or something.” Then again, that might have been Kaden’s problem now, considering the animal control officer of it all. Andy chewed on her bottom lip as she scanned the rows of books in front of her. At the mention of talismans and charms, Andy raised a brow. “Nah, I’m not sure that’d help in this case. The ooze and the fissures, they seem to have a mind of their own don’t they?” How much she could rely on something created by a spellcaster, Andy wasn’t sure, and she didn’t necessarily feel right by seeking it out. While not all spellcasters assisted hunters, Andy felt like she couldn’t be too careful, especially considering the very one she had sought help from back in Lyon had known their real names. Not to say that they’d have connections in Wicked’s Rest, but still.

Maybe the fear was moot considering the fact that a living, breathing relic of her past had come to live with her and Alex, but Andy couldn’t shake the feeling that something would go wrong. “Do you have any of those kinds of things though? For the shop?” She didn’t want to turn Leah down entirely, knowing that being open to the conversation was better than shutting it down. She didn’t want to shut down things anymore.

Leah smirked and offered a proud shrug, knowing she couldn’t deny Andy’s quip. She nodded, annoyed at how lackadaisical the local authorities were, especially for a town in such need of a well organized rescue squad. “Except, of course, for that one time when there were five giant cats in a tree in the center of the common, of course. Then they were suddenly all occupied.” Cat-siths, Leah had later discovered. It was she and some of the other scribes who ended up starting the attempt to rescue them, after all.

“Mind of their own or not, there’s surely some way to stop them if they become any more dangerous.” Or at least she hoped there was. There was nothing Leah had found in any research yet, and it was incredibly frustrating. Maybe Andy would have better luck, though. Her eyes fell to the tome she had slid into the front register, and then back to her friend briefly.

“Oh, of course”, she said, gesturing to the sounds of small bells as the door to the shop opened, almost on cue. “We can’t have evil intentions in a place as sacred as a bookshop, now, can we?” She chuckled, but Leah was only half joking. “I had some close friends who… made some of those things as a teenager.” She had to stop herself from using the word ‘spellcaster’ when she wasn’t at the Scribary. “They were sisters, but they moved away years ago. The eldest gave me those before she moved- it just felt right to use them to let me know when customers are coming and going. Who knows if they actually do anything, but they make a pretty noise, nonetheless. Do you think you… believe in that sort of thing? I know some people here aren’t very superstitious”.

“That actually happened?” It wasn’t a surprise. She’d seen plenty of cats running around Wicked’s Rest. Andy knew that letting your cats free-roam was harmful for everyone involved. She’d read about it in the back of a nature magazine after taking an injured bird to a sanctuary in one of the towns she and Alex lived in for approximately two months. “Sounds like the fire department has something to answer to.”

There had to be a way to get rid of the crabs, and Andy knew that. Of the ooze, too, but whatever… bigger thing was creating all of this, that was what needed to be dealt with. She didn’t want to think that there was something worse out there, but knowing Wicked’s Rest, there was bound to be something that everyone was overlooking. If anyone could figure it out, Andy knew that Leah would be the best person for the job.

Andy turned around as the bells chimed, then looked back over to Leah. She’d seen those in a few places around town, but hadn’t ever thought anything of it. Silly her. “Oh, that’s cool.” Maybe she should get some for the cabin. Would Kaden and Alex think it was stupid? Maybe. Maybe not. There wasn’t much use in passing them off as a means of security, since all three of them would be able to hear the slightest movement outside. “They do make a nice noise, you’re right.” A little high pitched, but it wasn’t Leah’s fault that Andy’s hearing was a little on the heightened side, what with the ranger-ness of it all. “Do I believe…” Andy looked back over her shoulder, pausing for a moment, before turning back to Leah. “Sometimes, I guess?” Best to not let too much out about herself. Probably for the better. “I guess it depends if you mean the bells can save somebody from something bad? Or…?” She tilted her head, “something else?”

“More often than not, most of the things you hear about in Wicked’s Rest actually happened”, Leah said, knowing Andy already suspected as much was true. Again, she was dancing on a fine line here- revealing that she might believe the wild tales around town without actually saying it. The word fire, ironically, shook her out of her thoughts, and she smiled a tight smile of agreement toward her companion. “Don’t worry. It’s sort of sweet, in a way, that the town’s citizens come together enough to solve the problems on their own. Don’t you think?”

Leah’s eyes traveled back to the tome again, only momentarily. She knew more than anyone that the best way to find a solution to a problem was to have many minds looking for an answer. And maybe if she wasn’t looking in the right places, Andy’s eyes might be able to read through the cracks enough to find it herself. “I just remembered something!”, she said seemingly out of nowhere, grabbing the tome quickly and retreating to her private office, a room located behind the register. As quick as she could, she jotted messy copies of the bullet notes she had been taking from the tome on to post-it notes, sticking them to her hand as she filled out each one. Leah had always prided herself on her ability to write rapidly, but for some reason in that office, she felt like the transfer was taking forever.

Hastily, she found a random book discarded on the shelf, not bothering to look at the title, and she placed the post-its on various pages throughout. It was a longshot, but maybe Andy would look past whatever random book it was, and be able to find a connection with all the notes she’d been taking through the post-its. She felt like she was out of breath by the time she opened the door again, but she let their conversation from before flow back into action, holding the now post-it covered novel against her belly. “I hear different charms make different noises, too, so I suppose you could always shop around for your favorite”, she chirped with a small, matter-of-fact sigh. Then, she shrugged, watching Andy carefully. “It depends on what you mean by something else, I suppose. I guess what I’m talking about is all the rumors about this town- the ones that give us our reputation, you know?”

Maybe Leah did know a little more than she was letting on. After all, living in a supernatural hub, people were bound to get curious. Andy couldn’t fault anyone for that, especially if it came to protecting themselves. “Sort of sweet or sort of…” Andy’s brows furrowed as she tried to think of the word, and then finally, “dystopian.” But maybe not to Leah. Maybe she enjoyed the community. Andy hadn’t ever had it in anyone other than her sister. Nobody had rallied behind them when everything happened. Why would they have? If anyone actually knew what Alex had become, then… Andy shook the thoughts from her mind. “But I can sort of see why you’d think that. Maybe I’m too cynical.”

Leah’s voice made Andy look up from the book in her hands. She watched as her friend disappeared into the back office. Not entirely sure what to do with herself, she began to look over some of the flyers that were stacked on the register’s tabletop before moving to a nearby shelf to look at the display of books.

By the time Leah reappeared, Andy had memorized the entire alphabetical list of animals in one of the picture books nearest her. “Oh–” She blinked, then remembered her previous comment. “Maybe!” She smiled at Leah before looking down to the book that was pressed against her stomach. “Yeah… reputation.” She squinted. “What is that?” Andy pointed to the book with the sticky notes. Had Leah gone through all of that trouble for her, or had she suddenly remembered that somebody had an order to pick up and needed to take down what books she needed to pull? It was something Andy went through regularly at the bakery, so she couldn’t be sure.

Leah couldn’t help but laugh at that summation of Wicked’s rest, and she couldn’t argue either. She knew the town wasn’t for everyone, some people thought it wasn’t for anyone. But despite it’s faults, she couldn’t help but love it. It granted her a community before she even knew she needed one. It brought her to her family. Wicked’s Rest was where Leah belonged, she was sure of it. Despite that, she grinned at Andy, leaning back against her desk. “Maybe it’s good to be a cynic sometimes. Cynics prevent danger!

“Oh! It’s just a book I had back there I thought might help!”, she said with a smile, turning the cover toward Andy offering it to her. “It’s called-”

Her smile dropped when she looked down at the title, wondering how she could spin that such a book might help with the ooze and crabs. “-...You and Your… Cat.”

Leah blinked, pressing her lips together and looking back toward Andy. “Because… cats and crabs are so similar, you know?” She raised her eyebrows awkwardly, pushing the book into Andy’s hands. “It’s on the house, of course. Just something I had lying back there. Don’t worry about the post-its, I’m sure they’re nothing.”

Andy shrugged. Maybe Leah had a point. Cynics did keep things safe. While she was all for having fun, Andy was definitely the kind of person who’d look at the danger in a situation before the excitement of it. It was what happened when a fourteen year old was expected to raise a child, she guessed. Or maybe it was the one part of being a ranger that she couldn’t part with. Who the fuck knew.

“You and your… cat?” Andy let out an uncertain laugh at Leah’s explanation. “Yeah, yeah, they’re um… definitely similar.” The redhead took the book and scanned the sticky notes, then flipped the book open to the first few pages, flicking through it.

At Leah’s comment about the book being on the house, Andy shook her head. “No, you can’t do that! I can pay for it.” She set the book down and began to dig into her tote bag before pulling out her tattered wallet. The inside lining was a mess, but it was still intact, so what was the point in getting a new one? She looked up at her friend, expectant. “What’s the price?”

Maybe Leah should have checked what book she was throwing post-it’s on before she brought it out to Andy, but now she had to run with it. “Uh.. yea! I’ve even heard some experts recommending dealing with the problem the same way you might a stray cat in your yard!”

Leah hoped Andy would somehow figure it out without thinking she was involved, although that wasn’t likely. She hoped she’d see that the post-it notes were related to her problem, that she could ignore the cat book all together and she’d still have the information that she might need. She couldn’t tell if Andy bought it as she flipped through, but she still watched her carefully to figure it out.

Leah put her hand over Andy’s, shaking her head. “It’s on the house”, she said again, this time with a little more emphasis. “I don’t think we’re far enough into our friendship for you to realize how stubborn I am, Andy, but I’m not taking your money. Don’t worry about it, that thing’s been lying in the back for months, anyway.”

Andy hadn’t really taken a good look at what the post-its actually said, but after taking a glimpse of one, stupidity befell her. “Oh.” She looked back up at Leah with a small smile. “There are a lot of stray cats in my yard, yeah.” There weren’t. Maybe other things, but the Bennett-Langley’s were on their turf.

Leah’s insistence that the book was on the house frustrated Andy, but she eventually relented, knowing that there really was no arguing with her friend. “I’m just as stubborn, that’s the problem.” She let out a small laugh before tucking the book close to her chest. Maybe when Leah wasn’t looking, Andy could tuck a twenty dollar bill beneath the jar of pens. “But I appreciate it.” It was clear that Leah knew quite a bit about… things, Andy decided, as she scanned one of the post-its. She looked back up at her friend, pausing momentarily before speaking again, “I’ll make sure to come back to you with any cat related questions.”

#para: well read #para: leah #wickedswriting #//i love julie and i love leah

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soul-dwelling · 6 months

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Rambling about recent anime watching, and how it keeps coming back to Soul Eater musings.

(Disclaimers: Despite how harsh I’m going to be, I did enjoy K-On. And I take a cheap shot at FLCL. And Bocchi the Rock is really good. Now onto the criticism.)

Years ago, when I first got to read Soul Eater NOT, my joshing of the series was that it was ripping off of K-On.

At the time, I hadn’t watched K-On.

But recently HiDive’s FAST channel has had marathons of it, so I finally watched it.

And while I enjoy a lot of the anime, yeah, I can also see why the series (a bit wrongly) gets blamed for a moe trend in anime.

And maybe it wasn't entirely fair for me to compare NOT to K-On as a way to disparage either series. Granted, the K-On anime didn’t start until 2009, so in-between the first Soul Eater anime and the Soul Eater NOT anime.

And moe has its place in animation, so the problem is not moe in and of itself; the problem is whether it is done well, suits the tone, or speaks even ironically to the subject matter. And I’m not sure whether NOT satisfied all three of those criteria.

I think both the NOT manga and anime would have been more memorable and funnier if it still leaned into the horror angles more often of the original series, such that the moe aesthetic is all the funnier when put into contrast with the scary stuff. That contrast was present enough times to show there was that potential: Patty’s Halloween ghost costume, Texas Mask, and Stein making the Eternal Feather robotic head.

But I also wish, especially in the NOT anime, whenever the main trio confronted something really scary or serious, that suddenly the visual style would shift to the original 2008 anime character designs. Imagine if, as soon as the Eternal Feather versus Maka fight started, that the art style suddenly was exactly like the 2008 anime, immediately going into the skull-face/pig-nose. It would work on numerous levels: it’s a cheer-worthy awesome moment to see everything return to the original style; it is now a good-natured joke where maybe even the bystanders like Tsugumi have a new art style (and maybe are aware of it?) without the joke getting in the way of the seriousness of the moment; and it hypes up the fight and communicates that the tone and genre have shifted dramatically.

In other words, I wish it was less K-On at that moment and more Bocchi the Rock with rapid-fire changes to the art style and animation.

(Yes, I also finally got to watch some of Bocchi, so coming across it at the same time I finally got to watch K-On is something else, trying to process two completely different series that are both about quartets of high school girls playing rock music. Seriously, Bocchi is so good in terms of humor, character types, genre-bending, music, medium-shifts, actually telling a story about social awkwardness and depression...It's what those godawful FLCL follow-up series should have been like.)

But there is something else in K-On that is an odd coincidence when it comes to Soul Eater, NOT, and Fire Force (probably only a coincidence for Soul Eater, as the K-On manga didn’t start until 2007, but more likely an influence on NOT and Fire Force): the gags that just don’t work. “Here’s the adult teacher who is way too invasive in their students’ lives, attire, privacy, and bodily autonomy.” “Here is the very serious dark-hair pigtail girl with the cat association to be the butt of gags.” “Here is the reluctant fanservice girl.” Is this how those bad corny jokes started getting really popular? Is this what leads some moe content to be repurposed by hack creators for crappy content?

To make my point clearer, I enjoyed K-On: the plot is compelling, most jokes work, the dub especially is well acted, and the animation is good. But I still was creeped out by Sawako’s entire existence and how the story just had to decide that Mio’s victory needs to be destroyed by a fucking panty gag.

And even if I understand the backlash against moe, or the frustration with how the moe art style can become cliche, I’m trying to be hesitant to criticize moe.

That’s not only because that criticism then feeds bad-faith actions by the worst people on the Internet, AKA the misogynistic fuck-sticks who can go fuck off into oblivion.

No, it’s also because that criticism can overshadow what I do legitimately see as valuable in the moe art style: the eyes can be more communicative; the cute factor can help jokes land better, the pain feel worse, or when used as a contrasting visual can make the horror elements (as with Madoka) more impactful.

And it’d be hypocritical for me to bash K-On given how many times I have given Ohkubo’s stuff a pass despite it getting gross.

But I also think I get now why there is trepidation around the moe aesthetic when it is misused, as I do think Ohkubo was drawing from some of its qualities in really good ways to set up Maka as the protagonist we needed in a shonen horror musical story, but he also failed to do enough creatively with it for NOT, and it seems like it was his short-cut to add pervy fanservice crap to NOT and Fire Force.

So, again, I enjoyed what I saw of K-On. I just wish I wasn’t having to be so cautious about the series given, again, Sawako’s gross existence and the bad luck Mio and to some extent Azusa have in it. And I wish I wasn’t having to be so cautious about the series when it should be blameless just because I happen to recognize potential parallels between what it was going for with its moe style, and how Ohkubo pulled from that same style to meet his gross aims (Tamaki).

#soul eater not

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 9 months

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Hey everyone, it’s August 19, 2023. Do you know what that means? It means happy 20-year anniversary to the events of this YouTube video!

youtube

It’s one of the less talked about of the various old Chocolate Milk Gang Edinburgh clips I’ve found on YouTube. By which I mean it’s less talked about by me than a few of the others are, but that is also an indication of how much it’s talked about in general, because I am the only person in the world talking about those clips. The CMG Edinburgh videos I’ve found span a few years, but the earliest are from 2003, so we’re going to hit twenty-year anniversaries of a couple in a row this week.

We open on Daniel Kitson doing some material that was a fairly significant part of his 2005 Edinburgh show, appearing here with somewhat cruder wording than he used in the final versions of that show. Apparently he was sufficiently happy with the concept of that bit to hang onto it for two years before making it an official part of an official show, but he had a more extreme example that he saved for when performing in the middle of the night to drunk Gilded Balloon people. When he performed it in the middle of the night to sober people at The Stand two years later, this bit did not contain the words “wanking freely”. Not that I think he wouldn’t use that phrase at The Stand. But maybe wouldn’t go to it just for the sake of impressing a raucous and filth-demanding crowd, the way that he’d clearly learned to do at Late ‘n’ Live. You can see why twenty years later he’s writing plays about the sins of his past, Simon Amstell/Grandma’s House-style. Maybe a tiny bit Frankie Boyle-style, too. Someone should make a list of all the comedians who’ve written pieces of comedy that are apologies for the much harsher comedian they used to be. Amstell blamed the "roast culture" at the intersection of popular music and 00s panel shows, Boyle can blame the bearpit that Mock the Week allegedly was in its early years, and apparently Kitson can blame the drunk people at the Gilded Balloon.

Then the montage moves on, and Jason Byrne is on stage, covered in bubble wrap. Kitson introducing him like he’s a cage fighter, and there’s clearly a lot more irony in the way Kitson’s presenting this situation than in the way the crowd is receiving it, as they are audibly yelling for blood. Jason Byrne stumbles on his words, which does not surprise me, because I think I’ve heard his name specifically mentioned as one of the anti-Chocolate Milk Gang people. By which I mean they given the name by people like Andrew Maxwell and Jason Byrne and Glenn Wool – the latter of whom has been credited with actually coming up with the term – for not getting drunk at late-night Edinburgh shows, in contrast to the people who named them, who were always drunk at late-night Edinburgh shows.

Anyway, David O’Doherty turns up, also covered in bubble wrap, accompanied by his evil manager, noted Chocolate Milk Gang named coiner Glenn Wool. And then they set about attacking each other with garbage bags. DO’D… really going for it. Just beating the shit out of Jason Byrne during bubble wrap wrestling with what must be more zeal than was planned. They cover the bubble wrap wrestling night in slightly more detail on the 2012 BBC Scotland Late 'n' Live documentary, and in that one, there's a shot of DO'D leaping through the air and pouncing on Byrne like a puma. DO’D also did something similar at a 2007 Late ‘n’ Live, getting into a wrestling match with Daniel Kitson where he attacked hard enough so that at some point you can hear Kitson make it quite clear that he did not intend for the comedy stage wrestling to go as far as DO’D is taking it. I rather love the idea of David O’Doherty as a man brimming with unexpressed rage that he only gets to take out at the occasional late-night comedy show where they set up some sort of fight. I also love how hard DO'D beating on Jason Byrne makes Daniel Kitson laugh, just cracking up from the sidelines while he's supposed to be ironically commentating.

Though it’s worth noting – I pointed this out the other week, when I wrote a whole post about Cowgate, since obviously the world needs another post about that. I said that Adam Hills got lost in the moment and was just yelling what came into his head, while Daniel Kitson was pretending to be similarly caught up, but was in fact using his status as outside commentator to give genuinely useful advice to DO’D about where to attack the cow. You get something similar here – he’s breaking with laughter at what’s happening, but still has the presence of mind to shout “Glenn, get involved” in a voice that sounds like more hype but is in fact a host controlling his gig. You can see where he developed the compering skills.

Then David O'Doherty finishes beating up Jason Byrne and jumps into his evil manager's arms like... look, last night I went to my best friend's place and we watched a video from a gold medal match at the senior national championships of actual wrestling (no bubble wrap) earlier this year. We were watching it because an athlete from our team won that match, and winning it put her on the ladder for Olympic qualifications, and she's just decided she definitely does want to make at run at the 2024 Olympics so we need to re-watch all her recent matches to analyze her weak spots and create a training plan to prep for the Olympic trials, which is very exciting, so there's a little thing going on in my life. Anyway, the point is that the match was very exciting, it came down to the last few seconds, and when it over, and they confirmed that she'd just won the national championship final, she ran across the mat and jumped into my best friend's arms, throwing herself so hard at him that she knocked him backward, since he was the coach in her corner. Watching this comedy video today, I'm struck by how much DO'D jumping on Glenn Wool looks exactly like that athlete jumping on her coach after a genuine important sports thing. You can see why this type of thing eased my withdrawal during the sport-free pandemic.

Anyway, then Kitson introduces Cat Empire, a band from Australia, which he obviously loves because he loves all musicians from Australia (except that one cunt from Sydney). He then engages in a rap battle with a member of the band, which is… to be honest, genuinely awkward. And I’ve watched everything else in this video, and in a bunch of similar videos, without cringing, I think it’s fun, and it’s acceptable to do stupid things like that if you’ve layered enough irony on top, which they always do. The Kitson vs. DO’D rap battle from another night – enormous fun to watch. But somehow, doing a rap battle against and actual musician who does actually do this type of thing makes it, sort of, not quite as much of a joke anymore. Still definitely a joke, but just a few of those layers of irony shaved off, and it turns out, a rap battle needs every layer of irony it can get or it quickly stops being funny and starts to just be hard to watch.

It may be made worse by the fact that Daniel Kitson appears to be genuinely having a good time. There is, obviously, irony when he yells at an Australian musician that he’s conquered that man’s homeland because he “Went over to Melbourne, nearly won the Barry/Motherfucker, other side of the world/Nearly won me an award, got me a girl”. But I’m not sure there’s quite enough irony to make that easy to watch without cringing. It looks too much like Daniel Kitson might be slightly, for real, sort of enjoying getting to brag to an Australian musician about how he’s big in Australia. And you just can't have that.

Then Cat Empire plays music for the rest of the video. The music is fine. The video is sort of interesting just because it gives me a bit of a sense of what the Gilded Balloon looks like away from the stage (I can piece this together with some of the backstage Gilded Balloon footage that was in the Tim Minchin documentary I watched last year, and I could probably draw a floor plan of that place).

Happy twenty-year anniversary, everyone! I'm sure most of the people in this video are very proud of their antics, twenty years on. Well, I'm sure some of them are. Maybe. Daniel Kitson's out there writing plays about regretting some of the ways he used to behave on stage. While David O'Doherty, I like to think, would probably fuck up Jason Byrne or that cow or Daniel Kitson just as badly again, if given the opportunity to do so tonight. The real lesson here is don't fuck with David O'Doherty.

#Youtube

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prettyoddfever · 2 years

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Hello! I saw on your YouTube you said that there are a lot of videos you haven’t posted because they got taken down. You could try using Vimeo to post those videos because they aren’t strict with copyright and things like that. I would love to see some videos I haven’t seen before on there!

I started to do that last year with a couple videos, but then I took them down because I'm nervous about the legality of that... like if it gets straight up removed from youtube during the uploading process then I don't think I should post the full thing anywhere else. I've tried to add very short clips of the best moments from some of those videos into my longer edits, though! but in some cases even a few seconds of just the audio from an interview gets the whole edit blocked. And that seems silly because all of this content used to be available to download on fan sites like nbd... and I especially don't get why the SNL performance gets blocked when the rest of that episode seems to be on youtube just fine.

But it's not like I'm over here sitting on hundreds of videos that aren't online, sorry. There are only maybe 10-20 that haven't worked to upload. I'm missing a tragic amount of content. I really regret not saving more... I never planned to have an account like this where I'd be trying to recap stuff, and I didn't realize things back then were so temporary either. Blame Viacom. Here’s a list of some of the content I think I’m missing so far.

side tangent that’s slightly relevant:

Youtube wasn't that widely used in 2005 when P!ATD started touring. I remember using it more by spring 2006 (and then it was huge by that summer), but for a while fans were most likely to upload their videos from shows to sites that no longer exist, like buzznet. That's why there are only scraps of random videos from fall 2005 left on youtube... and those were often uploaded later from someone who didn't film them. For example, there are a lot of GroveStBrent's videos from a Chain Reaction show in December 2005 left on youtube because that person lost their original files around the end of the Fever era and asked if anyone had saved their videos. Those got collected, put into a zip file, passed around, and then someone put them on youtube. So the fact that there are way more youtube videos from that one show at Chain Reaction than anything else in late 2005 doesn't mean it had any special significance... those videos were just shared at a point when youtube was more commonly used. I think this is important to point out because it seems like some teens these days are under the impression that P!ATD wasn’t very big yet in fall 2005 since there are barely any videos from that season on youtube. The reality is that P!ATD was already quite popular in fall 2005… but youtube wasn’t.

Anyways, people starting using youtube more as 2006 progressed and there was SO much content shared from shows & interviews during the last half of the Fever era. The problem was that apparently MTV owned a ridiculous amount of the shows/channels that P!ATD was featured on (even stuff like Razer). Viacom sued youtube around the end of the Fever era, which meant a good chunk of the Panic fandom's videos were deleted and some channels were removed for repeatedly trying to re-upload banned content. That's why so many of the Fever-era interviews that are left have an upload date of 2007 or later. And that's why we're left with scraps like that pathetically blurry short clip of Brendon holding Ryan's hand instead of the whole series of those T-Minus Rock episodes.

Basically, I'm trying to share some basic content that the fandom had in 2006-2008, but I'm also trying to not do anything sketchy. The majority of the videos that I'm missing or just can't upload are tied to Viacom in some way... and it's so sad because what is any company even doing with that footage at this point.

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myimaginarywonderland · 10 months

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Sometimes I think about how incredibly detached people get from the fact that the drivers are genuinely human because I remember the horrible treatment that Daniil, Romain and Nicky received over the course of their career.

Daniil literally got made into a meme that made everyone not take him seriously.

People were blaming Romain when he just had his crash, arguing that with his driving that was bound to happen and no one even acknowledge the horrible treatment he got.

Nicky got treated horribly ever since he came into the sport. Every weekend he was insulted, made into a joke etc. After Abu Dhabi I am not sure we will ever see him openly in the public again for the next two or three years. Hell, he might never race again and honestly I couldn't blame him.

This way to just completely detach the drivers is a result of social media and parasonical relationships and while with sexualisation it was always weird and borderline creepy, with guys like them it was genuinely dangerous.

I do not know if anyone knows about this but Timo Glock, who famously slowed down in 2007 because of his tyres and unintentionally affected Lewis championship, had to hire security guards because of the shit he was getting for that.

I can not even imagine how bad and dangerous it is/was for Nicky in the age of social media being such an active part in F1.

I think sometimes people forget that while yes you can critise the drivers and understand that teams are sport businesses, many of you forget to actually treat the drivers like the human beings they are.

That can sound very hypocritical coming from me and I will admit that, absolutely, but maybe we could all use this as a reminder that it might be a sport but there's people behind that sport.

And while cars, circuits etc. don't have feelings, the drivers do. What you say about them, they can hear, they read it.

So maybe some people should be considerate and understand that when they are typing a post about how a driver should just crash etc.

Maybe you should sometimes think about if you would say your main argument/point to a driver in person (because yeah Internet slang makes things maybe akward sometimes but the message under it is what matters) and when the answer is no, maybe you should think about why you feel the need to type it online.

#f1 #maybe kind of weird but yeah here I am #sometimes I read things thaf just genuinely make me sick and I wonder why people could ever think like that #sorry for this kind of rant I am still emotional after the FE crash today

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ray-the-fanatic · 2 years

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2k3 Rasey - All Of The OTP Questions MASTERLIST uwu

otp master list coming back for my torment love at first fight

Who’s the primary protector of the two? Both you know these two dumb asses are always trying to protect each other. Look only they are allowed to punch their boyfriend when they play fight uwu

Who sleeps in and who is the early bird? I truly can not see either of them as early risers especial since they both stay up late.

Who is the least patient? There isn't an ounce of patient between the two of them u-u

Which of the two listens to old music and which one is more into the newer stuff? hmm I feel they both listen to older music and sort of discover new stuff when its considered old.

Who’s the first one to quit a new hobby because they’re not great at it on the first try? Probs Raph, if he isn't good at he don't need to know a thing about it. I Don't know Casey might try a few more times before dumping it.

Who holds a grudge the longest? Both. Don't let them both hold on on you because they will encourage each other to keep that grudge XD Look Casey has held on on the purple dragons since he was a kid, with good reason mind you but still.

Who secretly knows all the lyrics to the other’s favorite songs but refuses to expose themselves? Raph again uwu look he may come of prickly but he tends to pay just a bit more attention to the things those he cares about like, he just refuses to make it known he is soft.

Who’s more likely to cry about a plant dying? I feel this be Casey, just cause Casey a bit more sensitive and Raph should not be allowed near a plant anyway u-u

Which of the two is the most outspoken? How can anyone be more outspoken then either them? if anything these two need to learn to shut up u-u you know they just always going off and encouraging the other when they do XD

Which of the two is quick to speak and which one is quick to listen? In this case granted I am thinking of the roof top scene in 2007 movie which I know are not the same really buuut it’s close sooo I would say Raph is a bit quicker to listen to Casey compared to Casey to Raph. Though I feel Casey dose get better about it as he spends his time around the turtle.

Who’s the most eager to have kids? hmm maybe Casey? I don’t think it crosses Raph mind as much.

Which of the two rolls their eyes the most often? Raph you know it is Raph who is always rolling his eye not that he has any room to talk of course but he still rolling his eyes every time.

Who’s an open book and which one is more reserved? Oh this is a bit tough going off the show Casey dose seem a tad more open in compared to Raph who only tends to sometimes speak on how he is feeling.

Who gets the most invested in their hyperfixations? Maybe casey Raph seems a tad too serious to often relax enough to even show he has an interest in some other than fighting openly.

Who’s into Eurovision? eh likely neither of them

Which one’s the first to help a stranger in need? Nah both will, Casey wants to do good for the city and clean it up of the crime it is infested with. Raph was raised to help thos ein need and generally cars for those in need

Who’s had the same pair of jeans for years and refuses to change them out? Once again Raph don’t wear clothes and i don’t put it pass Casey to re-wear his clothes days in a row.

Which of the two is the most gullible? Okay SOO I am properly watching the show in order now and not just bits I recall haha but um I wanna saw Raph can be a tad more gullible we can blame that on the whole living underground thing Casey giving the man credit here AS HE HAS EARN may not be smart in a conventional sense but he is pretty street smart and often the one to help the turtles in certain pinches.

Which of the two acts bothered by the other one but secretly enjoys every second of it? Casey Jones befriend mutuans because he far to annoying for opther humans and even if Raph has the shortest fuse in the world cause he is short as hell! May get railed up by Casey remarks but he loves every second of it. Especially since Casey tends to catch all his punches throw his way or just takes them. Even if Raph walks away Casey hot on his trail not shutting up uwu its flirting

Who’s more likely to get into a bar fight? Both, Im sure Raph has snuk into bar with Casey and Im sure they gone just to get into a figth.

Who’s the optimist and who’s the pessimist? ehh Raph can be a tad more pessimist comepared to Casey who tends to try and look at the bright side or point it out at least

Who gets more easily embarrassed? Raph very easily, he the red turtle for sure, he can’t help it he is in truth easy to fluster Casey likely thinks it’s cute.

Which of the two would you rather team up with for a game of laser tag? Maybe Casey cause I feel he knows how to play better, I still perfer being on team with both of them on my team tho I know I’d likely win uwu

Who gets a little too invested in board games? I cant see either of them sitting down long enough for a single board game

Which of the two is more likely to take care of the other’s elderly parents? I think Casey already sort of dose that with Splinter he is pretty respectful towards the rat, and Raph is somehow pleasant with the elderly so he be decent as well. So both

Which of the two is more likely to stand out in a crowd? The giant ass himbo who wrote the wrong company name on a toaster clearly, Raph duh but you know he turn any remarks towrd himself to casey uwu “what the hell is that its disgusting!” Raph: “Well that’s just rude, Case ain’t that bad lookin.”

Who will be the one baking banana bread on a Sunday after a week of complete mayhem? I still like the idea of them doing this together cause these two doming something more domestic and I guess would be seen as unconventionally masculine hate that phasing but I still wanna see them bake break together maybe it’s Casey’s grandma recipe

Who brings CapriSun to a frat party? Casey did it just very fitting

Who’s the designated driver? Sadly both these two can drive somehow so im sure they switch just means the other gets to hold on to the drive uwu

Who sugarcoats and who shoots it straight? Rapheal is honest and honesty isn’t always nice, Casey depending on the situation and who he talking to can effect this result

Who insists they’re the best at everything and who lets them believe it? Im pretty sure they are both very guilty of this for the other. Gotta hype up your best friend after all unless its against each other then its more insulting and claiming they suck

Who’s the first to apologize? Hmmm I wanna say Casey likely is just cause he is a tad more heartfelt compared to Raph but I feel this can go either way, Raph just dosen’t say sorry like most do he just tries to do something nice as a sorry.

Who takes on boring tasks around the house so the other person doesn’t have to do them? Hmm Casey lives alone so im sure he used to home chours or lets em pile up meanwhile Raph has been shown cleaning up after meals so i could see him at Casey’s telling him he lives like a pig and cleaning up for them XD

Who’s the more skeptical of the two? Again a toss up because these seem to find alot to be wary of, Raph may warm up after a bit but Casey will hold on to suspicious longer and often is right

Who picks up languages faster? Maybe Raph? I imagine he knows a bit of japaness from his dad but even at that I don’t think its a major skill on his part.

Who’s better at dealing with emotional trauma? *laughing and crying as I fall out of my chair*

Who’s more foulmouthed? Nah these two likely say fuck and bitch more than each other name u-u

Who’s more in touch with internet culture? Alternatively, if they live in a world where the internet doesn’t exist, who would be more in touch with it if it did exist in their world? Ehhh neither of these two seemed like the type to partake in it much, I feel they get way more invest outside screens outside a tv show or some sport game like hockey or america football

Which of the two is more artistic? mmm If im not recalling something right I don’t think either of them have shown the trait? Casey is a mechanic so he got like that to his advantage?

Who’ll be the first to snap if someone makes a bad comment about the other person? It be a contest on who acts first they may call the other shell for brains and numb skull but oh god forbid anyone else insults their bae they will be catching hands.

Who’s the most self-aware? Raph seems pretty self-aware and it oftens adds to his frustration on his anger issues

Who has the most self-control? this is hard cause both of them can, but it really depends on what is going on

Which of the two would be more likely to make a family album with physical pictures? I could see Casey doing this, since ya know he’s a tad of loner having a family and such now? i can see him wanting to have some proof of it

Who would confess their love first? I SAY RAPH! and You know why I just like the emotional stunt turtle saying it he might not say the actual words but he states it at least uwu

Who gets most excited about holidays? e.g. Christmas Casey, and its cute Raph more for the special treats and meals uwu

Who gets most intense during a fight? Both of them have often had to be stopped for going to far so that is the answer

Who’s the cheapest? Hard when one got no dough and the others dosen’t make like a great amount but enough to get buy. Beside Casey been show to be find spotting his friends in the show time to time.

Who’d refuse to pay the others bail just to mess with them? Raph cause hes a lil shit that way XD

Who’s the most concerned about details and semantics and who doesn’t care at all? hmm Raph can sometimes get caught up on things like this and probs did even with their relationship cause hes a mutant turtle and Casey a human he’s just being dumb of course but still

Who invites the other to dance for the first time? Hmm I could See Casey doing so of course it’ll take a lot of coaxing to get Raph to go for it but still if anyone can? it’ll be casey

Who overthinks the most? Raph surprisingly least outside anything physical it’s why he rather be fighting or anything being still means he can think and he dont wanna think

Who whines the most when they get sick? Casey, least the times he been hurt pretty bad he tends to whine or he just hamming that up for the attention

Who’s the most ambitious? Casey, often Raph knows when to back down even if he hates it mind you he dose thanks to influence of his brothers but Casey? yeah he didn’t have that sooo

Who’s the most likely to get stage fright? Oh I made a bad joke last time for the 2012 versions I be serious this time, Casey seems good about jumping into an act when needed Raph not so much so he’s the one with the stage fright for sure

Who’s the best cook? uhhh they may both be decent at best, Raph seems to cook the lest compred to mikey and even don, but imagie casey has to be able to cook somewhat

Which of the two is the most competitive? I don’t think there is way for one to be worse than the other between them

Who’s got the highest pain tolerance? I’ll go with Raph just cause the mutation did alter the turtles bodies a lot and man they shit he gose through in the show compared to Casey who been badly hurt by simllair things Raph and his brother be able to get back up from.

Who’s the most fashionable? Casey only cause Raph hardly knows a thing about clothes so that aint saying much

Who’s the most stubborn? Raph he will die mad thank you

Who’s the most childish? Casey, and he lives for his childish needs to just being a full on pain in the ass

Who’s the best at throwing axes? Just say Casey again cause I could see him trying likely gone to a bar that dose it even (yes thats a thing)

Who’s more likely to buy some stupid NFT just because it looks cool or cute? These two don’t even know how to work a computer

Whose grammar is so bad it’s a miracle they graduated 5th grade? How Casey made it outta school I’ll never understand, Raph never went but if he did? he fail XD

Who starts gearing up for Christmas first? hmm I feel Raph dose hes sort subtle about it just takes not of thing casey might say he needs or wants and hold on to it till chirstmas

Who’s got the most scars (physically)? Casey likely because he he soft like a peach uwu yeah im calling him this too

Who would survive the longest in the wild? I’m sure they both could its where they belong esp casey

Who’s the most spiteful? Rapheal is saltly because of all that spite in his body.

Which of the two would you choose to be stuck with in an emergency situation? Casey look he pulls through for the turtles a lot! I trust this himbo to take charge and thats how bad it gotta be

Who’s the most likely to hurt the other’s feelings unintentionally? Likey Raph sometimes he lashes out far to much gose to far with remarks even if he don’t mean it

Which of the two has the most dominant traits, aka., which of the two would their child end up resembling the most? hmmm if they like took in a kid at a younge age I feel like the kid would just pick up on the anger issue on both of them XD

Who makes their bed in the morning and who's more of a slob? Nah Casey place a mess raph room a second training zone neither of them are making a bed sides raph sleeps in a hammock cant really make that up

Who'll be caught saying "rules are made to be broken"? Both who needs rule they are boring anyway~

Whose hobbies/interests change every 2-5 business days? Neither they seem pretty constant in what they like

Who'd be able not to talk for the longest? Raph he good with the slient treament Im sure his brothers have dealt up to months of it before. Casey always has to say something when he really shouldn't

Whose I-Hate-Everything-And-Everyone teenage phase was the most intense/lasted the longest? Raph is still in this phase and wont leave it till he old but likely even then XD

Who'd take the gingerbread house decorating contest just a little too seriously? I feel they shouldn’t be allowed in cause itll be a awful mess and mistake at the end of the day

Who's more likely to execute their threats? I think they are both one to stick by a threat they make

Who has the more embarrassing Spotify Wrapped? + Give a run-down of each character's Spotify Wrapped, in as much or little detail as you want. Casey likely has a lot of 80s rock music, heavy metal and other in that vine Raph has about the same but he got some pop songs inthere and he will run to hit skip before it plays !

Who's the most likely to take a bribe? Who has the hardest time finishing a train of thought because they get distracted by a million other things along the way? Casey seems ready to prove other wrong all the time especially if bribe, Raph even with being close to Donnie often get lost with words with a few too many symbols in them

#i swear I didn't forget these just havent finsihed answering them theres so many questions XDDD #((I just learned chris evans voiced casey in the tmnt 2007 movie and no I am not okay uwu))#((also casey called raph #raphie and im not over that either))

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brettbowden · 21 days

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#sail #sailboatracing #sailcoach #sailfaster #sailing #sailinglessons #SailingSkills #sailingtowin #yachtrace #yachtracing

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despair-to-future-arcs · 2 months

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Oh come on we’ve got to have a financial crew somewhere or else we’ll forget how much money we have left.

Yeah, like I know you guys only have Ultimates in high-rank positions but wouldn't it be better if you guys had someone that wasn't an Ultimate or did anyone bring this up?

Sadly as say, we only accept Ultimates as it feels safer to have them help to re-open Hope's Peak but we had someone wanting to open it but can't due to his talent.

Really? Who was it then?

Biju Hakoda, the Ultimate Hiker; he offer to help with money and economy.

But given his talent as the Ultimate Hiker, we believe he works better in Shinji's Division.

Ah right, I did hear he wanted and he say that his talent is mostly a hobby then really something he wants to do and is an entrepreneur but if you don't think he can - maybe some Ultimate can help that works here? What about you Mr. Munakata?

Well... I would but sadly I don't think my skills would be of much use, especially as I did fail to figure out where the missing funds went when Hope's Peak was re-open.

Missing funds? Wait Hope's Peak Academy had funds missing?

Well yes, they did - you see back in 2007, mine along with Juzo and Hideyoshi were apart of Class 74; I became the Ultimate Student Council President which we handle events, where money goes and how to help the school - it's what the student council does.

Yeah, his skills on money and how to handle the school was pretty top-notch if you ask me.

Yeah exactly, Kyosuke was able to make the school lot better when we enroll.

Thank you both, I really am happy to help the school when it was needed; especially when it comes to helping those improve talents, as they say - if you lack the tools to perform, you can't breed success.

But that change in 2008 and 2009, which I'm sure your aware of Japan's 2008's recession, correct?

Oh right yeah, I heard the economy was hit pretty badly during that time mostly due to the global financial crisis along with the value of yen, correct? I know my dad and I were doing a lot of work during that time.

Indeed and at the time, we couldn't be able to get better equipment or money to fund the school, it... didn't help that a lot of everyone depended on me to figure out what happen and I couldn't, even when I ask what happen to the money I got no answers.

Kyosuke, don't blame yourself - that was the Steering Committee's fault for not telling you shit of where that money was going!

Bu-But still, I should of known what happen! It makes no sense.

Kyosuke, those fuckers don't give 2 damns about the school; they only care about money, that's it - that's where their values lie, I know you wanted to do all you can to help and besides you did mention they open a Elementary School Division, right? That might be where the funds went to.

It's even why you, Juzo and Chisa went to investigate the school, right?

...Right, of course; thank you.

Wait so you guys decided to investigate the school and what happen?

In a way, yes we did; I did want to see what happen to the funds, Chisa offer to assist me if she discover anything as a teacher and Juzo had his own reasons, that's why the 3 of us went to investigate Hope's Peak Academy.

I... still haven't figure out where those funds went or what happen, it still bothers me to this day but given the tragedy; we don't have time to investigate into this but I'm sure things have calm down, we can look into this.

I see, well I guess Hope's Peak Academy did have it's issues like everywhere else...

#dr #danganronpa #dtfa #despair to future arc #ds:rw #despair side: re write #ds ep 9 #dra #danganronpa another #dr3 #danganronpa 3 #teruya otori #kyosuke munakata #juzo sakakura #hideyoshi tamon #anonymous

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gummybear1031 · 7 months

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Today, the randomizer picked "Dead Silence," which is free-to-watch on Tubi.

It's actually really good, so if you want to watch it, don't read below the cut.

As always, livetweet reposted below the cut, along with spoilers.

I like that they used the 1940s Universal logo.

We’re starting with creepy imagery. I hope this isn’t as creepy as the movie gets.

Have y’all never seen a horror movie before? If a creepy ventriloquist dummy shows up with no return address or letter, you burn the fucker. Not have it repeat creepy ghost story poetry.

The sound dying while the kettle keeps boiling is surprisingly creepy.

Not to blame someone for their own death, but Lisa, come on, girl. What are you doing?

Jamie is the next to die. I mean, his wife is acting weird and there’s blood everywhere and he’s just going along with it. Bro. You gonna die.

Repeated eye motifs. Lisa already mentioned the doll’s eyes were too realistic, now we keep getting close ups of Jamie’s eyes. I’m not going to be surprised if the doll turns out to have real human eyes.

It’s a New Kid on the Block! (I know nothing about them, but I have a friend who’s a few years older and loves them.)

Jamie, if you think dummies are bad omens who kill people, why did you leave it alone with your wife?

Why is Billy and his case not in police custody? Do cops not take evidence?

Do they normally let people accused of murder drive back to their hometowns in order to do weird match cuts with signs depicting the thing they’re driving past?

Dang, Ella, hugging all up on the dude who doesn’t even know who you are. Also, did he just not go to the wedding? Or even know that it was happening? He truly went no contact.

Dad looks dead. Like he even has blue makeup on. Did they dub the dude? His lips aren’t exactly matching up to his speech.

I’m one of those people who can hear electricity. That damn sign would cause me to murder someone. The sound effects dying is so creepy. It’s such a nice touch.

This man is taking photos with an actual antique. I know they had digital cameras in 2007. I went everywhere with mine. (I was insufferable.)

Thanks for nothing, movie. We already knew his name was Billy. We all saw the inside of the case.

Why are we in a graveyard in the middle of the night with a creepy ass doll? What are you doing, Jamie? It’s like you’re trying to die!

Jamie, buddy, you’re in a haunted graveyard in the middle of the night while a disembodied voice laughs manically around your car. Drive the hell home. Don’t go back to your hotel. Go back to a hotel in the town your apartment is in.

Aw, hell no. Detective New Kid needs all sorts of complaints filed against him. All Cats Are Beautiful, but Detective New Kid is exceptionally Beautiful.

Detective New Kid should absolutely take that doll with him. Maybe Billy will murder him. Also, this is why you burn haunted things.

Does Detective New Kid even have jurisdiction in this town?

This argument is absolutely impossible. Is Billy actually a demon? The randomizer loves possessed doll movies, if so. It’ll be like the third or fourth I’ve seen this month.

Nobody would make her a doll. It doesn’t matter what her damn will said.

Henry released the evil ghost? Good job breaking it, buddy.

Ah, yes. The catwalk of an abandoned theatre. The safest place to be.

Why would you pull the string on that thing? It’s obviously pure evil. Jamie has no survival instincts.

The bratty kid was Jamie’s uncle. You think he’d have known about that, but he didn’t even know his dad was getting married.

Oh snap! Marion is talking to the ventriloquist ghost or the demon that lives in Billy. (Or both.)

Poor Henry. Even poorer Marion. She won’t understand what happened.

Great-uncle means Jamie’s grandpa was the brother of Michael. Which means Henry is at least 20 years older than Jamie’s dad. Who looks way worse than Henry. (Before Henry’s death.)

Why in God’s green Earth did they bury all 100 dolls? And why the fuck did Detective New Kid dig all of those empty coffins up? After like five, it’s pretty clear there’s none there.

Also, shouldn’t it be obvious that those coffins weren’t dug up recently? How did Jamie dig them up last night and have the grass grown back over them today? Detective New Kid might be a bad cop, but this is borderline crooked.

All of these fucking dolls are creepy as shit. Is that the Saw puppet? If so, he may be the least creepy of all these. Which is wild.

That crazy bitch made a corpse puppet! That’s messed up!

Creepy clown doll looks like the unholy lovechild of Pennywise and the doll from Poltergeist.

Finally Detective New Kid is right about something. Don’t go back there, Jamie!

I can’t believe I’m saying this: Jamie, listen to Donnie Wahlberg!

Oh snap! Lisa was pregnant!

The CGI of her face over the dolls is definitely not working. It’s just bad.

Are the dolls screaming as they burn? That’s creepy, movie.

Called it about the catwalk.

Jamie’s dad looks like he has one foot in the grave and the other on a skateboard. There’s no way he got his ass up, went to the funeral home, and took Billy doll.

That was too easy. Something creepy has to happen now.

His dad is a dummy, too? That’s amazing. I didn’t see it coming.

And one last eye thing. Because eyes and tongues are this lady’s thing.

That was actually pretty good.

#dead silence #31 days 31 horror movies 2023 #happy halloween

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