#their account is completely empty and seems as if it was made recently)
Text
A Highlight Real of Lea’s Interview.
- A vast majority of people working on the project behind the scenes were young, inexperienced, queer, and female.
- Personal twitter accounts and dms were put under surveillance to make sure no one spoke about Forever or Wilbur.
- Lea was told not to translate Quackity’s statement on xenophobia while the Brazilians were getting mobbed in February.
- The discord rules channel was empty.
- Lea became an “assistant” after applying to be an actor. This position was described to Lea as doing tasks asked of her and also coming up with ideas for a week as a trial. Lea described the position as doing every job without getting paid, and it was not a trial. Lumi/Pomme has also done unpaid assistant work for a “trial”, but was not labeled as an assistant.
- Writers and assistants both wrote lore, but only writers were paid for it.
- Payment was always under 300 euros a month for those who did get paid.
- Lea and Lumi both did translation work (not together, Lea says she had to do all of the French translating by herself when she did that job) and were not paid for it. Both say that some other translators got paid, but only a very tiny amount.
- Lea was told by one of her supervisors that they didn’t want her to become an actor because she was competent and deserved to get paid. This supervisor was unaware she wasn’t getting paid and later helped her to get paid, but also told her her salary was confidential due to her NDA.
- The NDAs were fake. Literally the first result on google.
- There was another French person on the team besides Lea and Lumi that Lea didn’t know about until recently. His name is Louis Diox, he did sound design.
- Louis Diox says in chat that he was on an isolated discord and only ever communicated with the supervisors. Lea says people have come to her since her first statement saying they were also isolated.
- Someone who joined at the same time as Lea got fired because they had to take a week off for finals.
- Things often felt very personal, and there was jealousy. One supervisor seemed to be pitting the girls against each other, but didn’t do so with the guys.
- Lea only became an actor because she was about to leave and the studio didn’t want her to.
- Quackity came up with the prison event idea 5 days before it occurred. He came in and told everyone to completely redo the puzzles the day before the prison escape. He did not help with the work. This one of only two times Lea heard him speak.
- Writers were writing all of Quackity’s lore. As in, they were making scripts for his streams. This was a special case, usually writers create puzzles for streamers when they make lore for them.
- Lea says Quackity often made lore decisions that didn’t make sense, such as kidnapping Dapper when qQuackity could not possibly do that. Lea believes he was trying to get more attention for his streams. She implies higher ups did this too and prioritized big events over better established lore like the codes. This screwed over the writers.
- Pomme was supposed to get kidnapped and killed, but this was dropped because it was 2-3am in France and Lumi needed to sleep. So they came up with egg A1 instead.
- There’s a Boss that’s in charge of everything. Nobody knew who this person was or anything about them.
- Jay handled cybersecurity, but Lea doesn’t think he actually wrote that pdf. She suspects it was the boss, because Jay never spoke to her or her colleagues and the writing style sounded like the boss’s.
- Lea was interrogated on what she did wrong before getting fired. They never told her what she did wrong, she confessed to talking to streamers and her colleagues because she assumed that was it.
- Lumi lost access to the server 3-4 days before Lea came forward. People had been making plans for Pomme to disappear within the lore for weeks. Nobody knows why.
- Messages were sent to Lea’s colleagues defaming her after she was fired. Part of why she came forward was because she was scared when the French streamers went to Quackity they would just get gross lies about her as a response.
- The egg figurines are pre-orders, but are being advertised as “while supplies last”.
- Treatment was not equal between admins. Some got treated really well.
- Something complicated happened with Pol that Lea doesn’t think she’s in a position to talk about
- Lea has been in contact with the union, she was able to meet a lawyer because of them.
Disclaimer: This is a highlights real focusing on the worker abuse. I highly suggest people read the entire interview Pommunist posted if they have the time. There was SO MUCH in this interview.
I also encourage everyone to focus on the mistreatment of the admins here. Whether or not Lea is a good person doesn’t matter, but the worker abuse does.
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YOU—Turn over again.
PAIN THRESHOLD—It’s no use. You can’t sleep.
HALF-LIGHT—Must be vigilant, they could GET you while you’re unconscious and defenseless.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY—Speed would help you stay up.
VOLITION—You don’t need speed or to stay up. It’s just anxiety; it will pass.
LOGIC—But not before you spend all night staring at the ceiling over nothing.
YOU—Is there *anything* that could slow your pulse? You wrack your muddled history for a cure and come up empty. Try recent memory.
PERCEPTION—You easily recall the last thing that made your heart rate level out and your skin warm from oxytocin. Overtones of pine needle and undertones of motor oil.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY—The Lieutenant’s aftershave is almost as good as paint thinner, but easier on the nostrils. Get to huffing that bad boy!
ESPRIT DE CORPS—Lieutenant Kitsuragi is a very good boy, by all accounts.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY—A boy who’s good at being bad. Get a nose in there, Harry. He’ll help a brother out.
SUGGESTION—Convince him it’s for the good of the case. He’ll understand.
LOGIC—You do need sleep to detect.
VOLITION—So does he. Don’t wake Kim in the middle of the night to sniff him. That’s weird.
YOU—You put your coat on and in 10 minutes stand before the Lieutenant’s door. He answers on the third knock.
KIM KITSURAGI—“Harry? What’s happened?” His eyes are squinted with sleep and one side of his hair sticks straight out to the side.
REACTION SPEED—You waste no time. While he’s disoriented, you wrap him in a hug and inhale the place where his neck meets shoulder as deeply as you can.
PERCEPTION—A new scent underneath the previous, something even more uniquely Kim than the aftershave and transmission fluid: the light salt smell of sweat and skin.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY—Oh yeah, baby, that’s the stuff!
YOU—Your shoulders relax and you lean into him without meaning to.
KIM KITSURAGI—His hands come up and shove you more gently than you anticipated. His eyes are far more alert, now.
KIM KITSURAGI—His mouth works a couple of times, choosing and discarding things to say. He sighs and settles on a lightly exasperated but curious, “Why did you do that?”
ENDURANCE—You blink blearily, so relaxed that you don’t really want to stay on your feet.
YOU—“I haven’t felt this calm in 4 days.”
ESPRIT DE CORPS—Lieutenant Kitsuragi is speechless at your nonsequitur.
YOU—“Goodnight, Kim.”
KIM KITSURAGI—He grabs your arm as you turn away. “Did you walk all the way here…? Just for this?”
ELECTROCHEMISTRY—His sleep-roughened voice scratches down your spine pleasantly.
YOU—“Yeah, when I smelled you for Communism, it took my stress away.”
KIM KITSURAGI—His mouth hangs slightly agape. “It…took your stress away,” he parrots, disbelieving his own reality.
EMPATHY—He’s halfway certain he’s in some strange work-related dream.
YOU—“I was hoping you could help me relax, and it worked.”
REACTION SPEED [Failure]—A dopey smile snakes across your face.
KIM KITSURAGI—“..Sniffing me. Helped you…relax.”
RHETORIC—He’s repeating you like he did when you said the smoker on the balcony smelled good.
EMPATHY—But this time, mirth is replaced with shock.
LOGIC [Failure]—The Lieutenant must not be a wee-hours-of-the-morning person.
YOU—“Night.”
KIM KITSURAGI—He watches you go. You don’t hear the door close until you step onto the ground floor.
…
EMPATHY—The lieutenant wants to speak with you. He’s glancing around and seems nervous.
AUTHORITY—He’s embarased about what he’s about to do.
YOU—“What’s up, Lieutenant?”
KIM KITSURAGI—“Khm. I noticed you were well-rested today. And we made significant strides on leads that had dragged before. I wanted to know…” He trails off briefly, then straightens his back. “The…hug. Did it help you that much?”
EMPATHY—He can’t bring himself to admit to the sniffing out loud.
VOLITION—It really did.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY—Ha, crownhead is finally on the same page.
VOLITION—I wouldn’t go that far. It helped.
YOU—“Completely. I don’t remember the nightmares.”
KIM KITSURAGI—He blinks. “Oh…kay. Well. If it’s that big of a benefit. That is to say. I would not mind taking care of that, erm, activity, now instead of being woken up. So. Shall we?”
SUGGESTION—Wow.
VOLITION—I’ll be damned.
ELECTROCHEMISTY—WHAT UP that’s what I’m talkin’ about!
ESPRIT DE CORPS—Bring it in, comrade.
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hi! ok I just wanted to ask someone who knows how tumblr works haha
so I found someone who writes amazing content so I decided to follow them. I binged lots of their fics earlier today and when I checked their profile again later, their profile doesn’t show. It seems they might have blocked me and I don’t know why :( I commented that I loved their fics and the comments are removed. my profile has my age and I am decently active on reposting & commenting on fics. This happened to me one other time too so I just am confused I guess :( I tried to message them but it said it wouldn’t go through so that makes me think I’m blocked? I guess I don’t know why a couple people blocked me? Just kinda made me sad bc I really enjoy their work but now I won’t be able to see anymore ☹️😢
happy to!! 💛
first thing you gotta remember that in all likelihood, your getting blocked is nothing personal. reasons for blocking someone on tumblr include but aren't limited to:
you don't have your age (range) listed in your bio/clearly visible on your blog
the age you have listed doesn't adhere to boundaries a blog has set (f.e. you're a minor, or it only says "18+" which i know many writers don't accept)
your blog is completely empty i.e. you don't post/reblog stuff
you don't reblog other people's writing
you spam like posts
you've never changed the default icon/header to something else
people don't vibe with the things you reblog
your theme is a colour they don't like
a lot of the time, it comes down to everyone's preferences. god knows i've been blocked by people and didn't understand why, but frankly it's none of my business. most likely, you won't ever find out, either. everyone is creating their own online space, and sometimes that means having a quick blocking finger. i'm sorry that you won't be able to read those stories anymore but you have to accept creators' boundaries.
however, there are some things you can do and try to prevent getting blocked in the future. these are only a couple of suggestions around tumblr etiquette i've picked up on over the years; if anyone else wants to chip in here, please do!!
1. make sure your blog is, by all appearances, that of a human being
this might sound stupid because of course, you are a human, but with the recent bot wars it's all the more important to double check for red flags.
check your url. does it include a random string of numbers, lots of dashes, just a name and an adjective? all of these have been indicative of porn bots and people might block you on sight.
change your icon and your header. yes, both of them. there are lots of creators on here who make wonderful fandom related headers and icons, or you can create your own with canva. just be sure to follow creators' rules and preferably reblog their creation
change your blog title. if your account is new, it will just say "untitled", which is another indication you might not be a human. use quotes, song lyrics, anything you enjoy
add a bio. this is where you put your name or nickname (you can make one up) age, age range, links to second blogs (if applicable), more quotes, whatever. i prefer my bio short and to the point, but that doesn't have to be you.
important: do this for all blogs and side blogs you use regularly. if you have a second blog for reblogging fics, you need to put up your age there as well, or at least visibly link to your main blog so creators can see you're not a minor. the harder it is to verify that you're an adult, the more likely it is that you will get blocked
2. know the different kinds of interactions on tumblr and navigate them well
there's a difference between liking, commenting, reblogging, and reposting, and it's important. lots of people use reblogging and reposting interchangeably, but that's actually incorrect and can lead to serious mishaps. let's dissect them one by one.
liking.
you're familiar with the like from other social media platforms. you tap a post twice or hit the little heart at the bottom of the post and it's added to your likes. wonderful, right? well. tumblr is a little different.
tumblr doesn't have an algorithm. let me say that again. there is no algorithm on tumblr. i guess there is, on the for you page, but that doesn't count because it's really shit. the only important thing on tumblr is your dashboard, and your dashboard only shows original posts and the reblogs of those posts from people you follow.
no one cares about your likes. your likes don't do shit. that's why creatives on here keep talking about reblogs. you need to reblog things on tumblr in order for them to get seen. it's a snowballing effect. likes are nice and all, but they're private. they're not contributing to a story or an artwork being seen by more people. they're essentially empty interaction. what's more, should a post get deleted for whatever reason, that post is gone for you forever.
i know some people use their likes as bookmarks for things they want to look at later, but i would strongly urge you not to do that. people block serial likers, because most of the time it is, sadly, very unlikely that they will come back and actually interact with the post again. that's just the way it is. we can thank tiktok and instagram for that. again, tumblr doesn't have an algorithm. if you want to genuinely support and encourage people on here, you need to do more than liking.
commenting.
this is a step up from liking, because you're actually interacting now. a comment will show up in the activity of the person whose post you left it on and of the original poster (op)—more on that distinction in a minute. comments are encouraged especially on ask/answer type posts, or as a reply to an earlier reblog.
when it comes to fanfic, there are, again, pros and cons. you can only leave a comment from your main blog, which means that even if you have a second account where you reblog fics, there's not necessarily a link between the two. this can lead to your getting blocked if you've never reblogged a fic to your main blog. on the other hand, if people comment on your fic without reblogging it, but they do reblog other people's fics, that can also rub creators the wrong way because it creates a strange sort of hierarchy: why those fics? why not mine?
important thing to note: i am not saying that to make anyone feel bad about "just" commenting, i just want you to be aware that this might go on in a creator's head. it has in mine. i'm very aware that this is a me problem, but it's also a reason why people might get blocked out of the blue, which is why i wanted to bring it up.
reblogging.
ah yes, reblogging. reblogging is the thing that makes tumblr tumblr, and it's so easy to do. you just hit the little 🔁 symbol at the bottom of the post, and boom, it's reblogged to your own blog. everyone who follows you can now see it on their dashboard, and if they reblog it, their followers can see it, and so on and so forth. every time someone reblogs a post from you, you will get a notification in your activity, and so will the op.
reblogs are the heart and soul of tumblr. yes, original posts are (usually) individual creations, but the community aspect of this site is born through the reblog. there are different variations on how to reblog. all are valid, because all help spreading posts around.
the empty reblog is the quickest option. there's literally a quick reblog option on mobile: if you hold your finger on the reblog button for a second or so, you will see your icon appear. if you swipe in that direction, the post gets immediately reblogged to your blog. something similar can be done on desktop with the xkit browser extension. it's fast, it's easy, it gets the job done. it's perfect for when you like a post but don't have anything specific to say/reply.
the reblog with tags is the second fastest option. tags, on tumblr, are sort of the sotto voce version of comments. yes, you can use tagging to organise your blog and make your posts easily findable (is that a word?) but the real fun begins when little asides are added. you can keysmash in the tags. you can put your thoughts in the tags. you can go full caps without it looking overwhelming in the actual post. if you're just starting to comment on things, the tags are a great place to start, because the actual post will keep looking the same; the tags are just a little additional bonus for both you and the creator. this is what you would use for the majority of posts that aren't works of art in any way, too, like text posts you want to find again, polls, photographs etc.
the reblog with additions though? oh boy. that's the real stuff. imagine it as clipping on your thoughts to the post, right there for everyone to see. you can add gifs, and memes, and change the font, and change the colour, and scream, and keysmash, and ramble without limitations. it's like catnip for the op. if you reblog a fic, a moodboard, a piece of art, a gifset, whatever it is, and you put your thoughts underneath? man, it's amazing.
side note: if you're new to commenting on people's fics and you don't know what to say, i highly recommend referring to this post. (btw i linked my reblog so it can act as an example of the different forms of adding to a post: there were other reblogs before mine, and i've added tags. useful in its content and as an example!!)
reposting.
this is where we need to be careful. reblogs are great. reposts are theft. where's the difference? reposting refers to you copying another creator's work, whatever it may be, and creating a new post without any indication to the original person's efforts. even if you do include their url, you will most likely get reported and blocked. because now, you've become the op of this copied post, and the actual creator will get absolutely nothing.
you will most likely have seen banners in fic communities that state something along the lines of "don't copy or translate any of my work to this or any other site". that's what this refers to. this would also include the following:
posting another writer's story to ao3/wattpad/another fic site of your choice without their permission. you can absolutely never do this. "but what if"—NO. never. fullstop.
some creators allow translations of their work, but you can only ever share those with their explicit permission and proper credit.
saving a gif to use without linking back to the artist. this is maybe my biggest gripe. yes, i know this site sucks at making gifs searchable, but still, you can't do this. and no, "credit goes to the original artist" doesn't count, where did that bullshit even come from? it makes me so mad. that's not giving credit, that's being lazy.
3. be nice, and have fun
this is fandom, and it's supposed to be a hobby. this is supposed to be a good time. none of us are getting paid for any of this. yes, we're all passionate about what we do, whether we're looking at other people's creations or we make them ourselves. we're fans of that common thing, and isn't that great?
just a little more internet etiquette that's not really tumblr specific but could be a good reminder for everyone:
not everything is for you, and that's okay
if something's not for you, scroll away
if you don't like what someone is posting, ignore them. mute them. block them.
do not ever, and i mean ever, send anyone hate. you don't know who's on the other side of the screen. block them and move on. life's too fucking short.
don't correct people's grammar/spelling. only assholes do that. if you can't help yourself and they're a person you've interacted with before, shoot them a private message and be nice about it.
don't offer unsolicited advice. i don't care if you want to give constructive criticism to help the other person. unless they've explicitly asked you to do that, don't. you'll get blocked so quick, and you'll ruin someone's day.
if you're reading a fic that's not finished yet, don't ask for an update. yes, you're excited for the story to continue. but "part 2", "when's the next chapter out", "more please" and so on are all things that put pressure on creators whether that's your intention or not. it gives us the impression that what we've already put out is never enough. and that sucks. by all means, be excited about what comes next, but not like this.
read!! old!! fics!!!! the beauty of tumblr being the way it is is that there's zero shame in interacting with older posts. it's not like you're liking a seven year old post on instagram. in fact, if you're commenting on a seven year old fic/gifset/moodboard/artwork on tumblr, i can guarantee you're gonna make that creator's day.
i'm absolutely positive that i've forgotten something in this post even though it's longer than several of my wips, so if any of my moots want to add something that'd be great!! in fact i'm gonna tag some of you because you know what? if you've read all of this you deserve a kiss. have a wonderful day 💛
@marvelettesassemblenow @barnesafterglow @imaginearyparties @aphrogeneias @brandycranby @writing-for-marvel @foreverindreamlandd @sanguineterrain @demxters @wildlivelychild
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I want to slap Noah
No particular reason
Just feeling mean
Me too, Anon. Me too.
Pen and Paper
Maybe three weeks or so after Branding
Surveillance Masterlist
Cw: descriptions of past amputation and hand whump, starvation, abuse, threats, details of injuries
Noah sat in Declan’s office, tucked in the corner as if no different from a piece of furniture. His chin rested on his knee, legs curled to his chest with his arms wrapped around his shins to keep himself tucked.
He wasn’t restrained, not physically. A loose shirt hung from his shoulders, the drawstrings of his pants pulled tight. Declan had been a bit more generous with meals, recently, going from occasional bowls slid through the gap in their cell door to twice a day. Not that the food had gotten any better, still the same nutritional mush that tasted like dirt and tap water, but at least he was no longer woken up in the night, pains of hunger so strong they made him nauseous. Well, not as often as he used to, anyways.
While the crap kept him alive, enough vitamin supplements emptied into the same pot of whatever porridge mush that he wouldn’t keel over, it did nothing to slow the rapid weight loss that had set in. In only a matter of weeks, months, any shred of muscle he had managed to build up over hours upon hours of training and exercise withered away into skin pulled taut over a skeletal frame. The joints of his elbows, knees, shoulders poking awkwardly through his clothes.
Declan wasn’t paying him any attention. Sitting at his desk only ten or so feet away, he busied himself in folders and files, a laptop open to a dim screen, tip of a pen scratching away at a mountain of papers.
Noah didn’t move for a long time. He stayed curled up until his legs started to cramp, at which point he finally opted to stretch them out a bit, leaning his back against the wall. The shift, though subtle, after such a long time of absolute stillness in his surroundings, drew Declan’s attention.
“Oh, I’m sorry, are you getting bored over there?” He questioned, head tilting to the side just slightly, a mocking tone dragging across each word.
Noah looked up, biting the inside of his cheek as he gave his head a small shake. His throat still sore from the branding, he didn’t trust his voice not to shake or crack.
Despite his jeering tone, he didn’t appear to be giving off any other emotion, only a dead boredom as he drummed his fingers against the edge of the desk, but Noah knew all too well the man’s ability to mask what he was really feeling, a game of charades which he always won.
“I asked you a question, Noah. You know how I feel about responding.” Declan hummed, swiveling around in his chair to turn completely towards him.
“Sor- nn,” Noah raised a hand, turning his head as a dry rasping cough scraped against the inside of his throat. “No.”
“No what,” The man prompted, his nice dress shoe tapping once quickly against the floorboards. That was something else Noah had noticed, he hadn’t really taken account of but he had seen and stored the information somewhere in the haze of his mind—the new carpet. A throw rug, a light accented beige pattern right in the center of the office, covering a good portion of the floor. Close enough that if Noah stretched his legs out, he could just graze the edge of it. Really, it added to the office, whatever new feeling Declan seemed to be going for. Comfortable, almost cozy, like a home work space rather than an industrial quarters in a compound made solely of cement and steel. If he closed his eyes, let the distant warmth of the fireplace wash over him, Noah could almost imagine that he was in some other place, some warm, safe little living room far away from this damned hell.
But he wasn’t.
“No sir,” He mumbled, gaze shifting away before the shame could settle in. It was self preservation, that was all. He wasn’t giving in, or submitting in whatever twisted way Declan wanted him to. He just couldn’t deal with another round of torture just yet, and some inkling of reason told him that with Declan’s recent… trip, he wouldn’t tolerate very much. His recent craving for any ounce of power he could drag certainly left Noah for the worse.
Declan clicked his tonight, his gaze honing down on him until Noah itched to shrink back, fighting away every ounce of instinct that willed him to cower.
There was nothing good behind that man’s state.
Finally, after an agonizingly long moment where Noah didn’t dare to even breathe, Declan spoke.
“Come here.”
Noah tensed, the muscles along his back rippling with a shudder at the two words, the tone of the man’s voice that gave him chills. His expression didn’t read any malice, but Noah knew better than to trust the appearance of security.
“Noah, come here.”
And then Noah made one of the worst possible mistakes he could have in that moment. He hesitated.
“Now.”
And then he was moving, shuffling forwards to stand on shaking legs. His feet sank against the plush carpet, a comfort turned to dreadful anticipation as he made his way over to the man’s desk.
“Go on, sit.” Declan waved him down, reaching to grab Noah’s elbow and push him when he didn’t move fast enough—but really, there wasn’t much aggression behind the action. It wasn’t a rough shove, more like a tug prompting him to sit right by the foot of Declan’s chair.
“You haven’t done any writing lately, have you?” The man asked as he leaned forwards, picking a black ballpoint pen from the intricate little holder he stored all his pens, pulling the cap off easily and setting it aside.
“No, sir..” Noah swallowed, fighting back the nausea paired anxiety beginning to creep through his gut. His gaze fell to his hands and the sickening feeling worsened. Most of the mutilated flesh had scarred over in mangled twists of raised skin where the fingers had used to been, but every couple of days a bit around the remaining knuckles would split open like a blister, oozing blood and stinging pain.
He supposed it could have been worse. After the brutality, Declan must have called in a doctor or something, someone professional to treat the amputations. It was clear that Declan hadn’t been coming from nowhere—he had honestly kept his work quite neat, leaving a bit of flesh around the base of the removed joints while using something to scrape out the cartilage and bone matter beneath so it could be cleanly stitched.
The worst of the damage had been centered around left hand, which Noah was sure had some sort of ill intention that would be revealed to him eventually. Of course, everything Declan did was purposeful, even if at that time the purpose had appeared to be just plain sadistic desire.
On his left, he was missing his middle completely, though that was the wound that had healed the most well so far, the swelling from the infections he had been battling back for weeks finally gone down. His pinky had been cut from the second joint, leaving him with only his ring and index working right—after Declan had broken his thumb. His right was a bit easier off, with only his pinky and the top of his ring cut off, so in relativity… the whole situation sucked. He had just relearned how to use a fork and how to hold a cup, but everything he touched felt uneven and wrong.
Declan shuffled some of the papers on his desk, picking a sheet with only a few lines of writing and turning it over to a blank back. He neatened their rest of the papers before turning his head and passing the sheet and the pen to Noah.
“Draw something,” Declan said, dropping the paper before Noah could even grab it—which he quickly fumbled to pick up again. “Doesn’t matter what, just keep it appropriate. Would you like a folder to write on, or are you fine with the floor?”
Noah picked the pen up from where it had rolled a small distance away, it felt wrong in his hand.
“Wh.. why?”
The slap caught him off guard. It wasn’t one of Declan’s typical slaps, with a force that would have sent him reeling back, but a quick backhand to his face, snapping his head to the side despite the lack of effort. A warning, stinging across his cheek.
“You have no right to question me. If I give you an order, you follow it. I know you know this, Noah,” Declan frowned.
“Sorry,” Noah muttered, resisting the urge to raise a hand to his face. “Sir,” he added hastily, upon Declan’s sharp look. Sir. Fuck him.
There were a few long seconds where the man didn’t move, his glare piercing.
“Even now, I still see your potential, Noah. Anyone else in my position would have given up on your pathetic, traitorous ass months ago and left you to rot in the cells until the next demonstration. But not me.” Declan turned his attention back to his laptop, and Noah thought he was done, but he continued a moment later. “I’ve known there’s something more in you than that misguided loyalty you’ve been clinging to. And I know that one day, you will realize just how wrongly placed your devotion is. You will realize that this, what I am doing, what we are doing, will be far stronger than what your organization ever amounted to. If there’s any hope of you ever sitting behind a desk here again, you’ll need to learn how to use your hands again. So draw something, before I cut off another one and have you use the blood as ink,” he ended firmly with the threat, letting the words settle like ice to the pits of Noah’s stomach.
There was… a lot to process from what Declan had just said. Which he could do later, in the sanctum of privacy, where he could work out what exactly the man meant.
Draw something. He should be able to do that.
————————————————
I kinda gave up towards the end, I’ve spent so long on this it isn’t funny.
But if anyone else has any Noah content they’d maybe like to see…
Tag list: @pickleking8 @blood-enthusiast @t0rture-me @sparrowsage @enigmawritesstuff @whump-me
#whump#whumpblr#whump community#whump writing#its me coal#coal wrote something#whumpee#whumper#whump prompt#whump prompts#whump series#tag for noah#creepy whumper#captured whumpee#captivity whump#writing prompt#intimate whumper#whump drabble#kidnapped whumpee#abused whumpee#hand whump#spy whumpee#spy whump#emotional whump#conditioned whumpee#torture whump#whump idea#whump ask#whump requests#pet whump
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Riddle 4
Summary: You’ve recently come home with a jar filled with candied roses, as they were on sale. You wake up from a nap with the top unscrewed and some of them missing.
About three of the roses were missing from the jar. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, blinked again, and recounted them, only to be met with the same number. Kind of redundant to do so when the top is sitting on the floor, as though discarded away, and an open window just a few feet away from the very jar that had some of it’s contents stolen.
You never really considered yourself a deep sleeper—well, not lately, on the account of the pets you have—so the fact that you didn’t wake up as soon as that metal lid hit the floor had you rather baffled. You didn’t think walking back from the store would leave you that tired.
Putting that aside, your candied roses have been stolen, at least some of them. You’re not exactly angry, since you still had a sizable portion to pick from, but you know this was likely to happen again, so might as well put a stop to it before any pet gets comfortable with stealing your things.
You grabbed the lid and resealed the jar. Snatching it from the counter, you unlocked a drawer and stuffed it in there.
Now you can investigate the back to see which little shithead decided to snatch the roses.
You entered the backyard, making sure to keep your steps from being too heavy. Acting normal was usually enough for a guilty party to give away their shame. Your first culprit, or rather pair of culprits, was Ace and Deuce.
The reason why was pretty self explanatory.
However, as weird as it was to believe, they weren’t acting any different than usual. Ace was over there by a hedge, individually ripping out dead or sick leaves with his usual gusto, while Deuce was carefully ripping up said foliage. Seems they’re on mulch duty again.
See, they’re not exactly very smart. If they were guilty of anything, they wouldn’t even be here. They’d be hiding somewhere. So, you simply walked right past them to check on Trey and Cater.
You’re not exactly suspicious of Cater to be perfectly honest, since he didn’t like sweets, but that’s not to say he’s completely off the list. He’s stolen candies for Riddle and Trey before. However, when you made to the rose area, Cater merely waved at you with water dew he’s been placing on the petals while Trey carefully changed out the dirt with freshly made mulch.
Cater, when feeling guilty, was a kiss up while Trey never fully connects with your eyes. So that marks them both off the list.
Riddle was the last one to check up on, and he wasn’t near his rose. If he’s not there, then he’s likely in the rose tree area.
And that’s when you finally found your culprit, standing high on his roots while he tilts his head in confusion at the tree he’s standing in front of, candies roses settled right next to him. Riddle looked down, commanding roots to pick the roses a little higher in front of his face. He squinted at them, patted at their hard petals before looking back at the empty tree. With a tiny clap of his hands, Riddle made roses bloom out of the tree.
But they weren’t the right color. They were too dark, almost dead looking.
A sigh of frustration left the tiny rose nymph. He retracted the roses and tried again, but they came out wrong once more. Too bright this time, with a weird scent that almost hurt your head.
“Riddle.”
He jumped, tripping over a root and would’ve fallen to the ground had you not been so close. He was easy enough to catch.
You sighed out, “Can’t believe you stole from me, Riddle.”
His cheeks puffed up, both out of annoyance and shame. Guilt had him eventually hang his head.
You poked him, correcting his posture. “At least ask so I can give some to you.”
Can’t have any of them thinking you’ll let things slide just because you were napping.
#twst#twisted wonderland#twst-drabbles#ask#drabble#heartslabyul#riddle#riddle rosehearts#house pet au#reader insert
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Smitten | Chapter 1 : Preparation
quick note, just recently made an account on ao3 as renailla. all my works will be published there too :D
You walked around Kamurocho with your captain, who insisted on going with you a hundred times before you finally gave in. He claimed it was dangerous for women like you to come out at this time. It was 3pm for Christ's sake, the streets were crowded with people going in and out of stores.
The both of you came across a fashion store which seemed newly opened. Beautiful dresses were displayed in front of the store, but the white one in the middle caught your eye. It looked so elegant and majestic that anyone who wore it would be labeled as royalty.
"I bet ya that you'd look pretty in that," Majima suddenly spoke beside you, his head almost rested on your shoulder which made you jump in shock. You nearly forgot he was accompanying you, rubbing your eyes out of embarrassment.
"I'd rather not find out," you told him, taking one last glance at the dress before continuing to walk towards your destination. Sure, you also wondered how you'd look in that gorgeous dress.
"Eh? Why not?" Your captain asked, looking at you as if he's imagining you wearing that dress.
"Not my type of clothing, plus, it'd be a waste of money." You answered him, he only gave you a short hum in return.
The both of you walked back to Majima's office without uttering a single word to each other. On your way there, you ran into a yakuza. He eyed you up and down then smirked, which made you glare at him. He started walking towards you, completely unaware that Majima was here.
'Rest in peace to you', you thought to yourself when he got closer.
"Hey, pretty lady!" The yakuza said, fixing his jacket. "Wanna grab a dr-", he was cut off when a fist hit his face.
"Yeah... nope," Majima said, eyeing the yakuza man on the floor who has now passed out.
"Thanks for that one," you told him. Majima gave you a smile and a thumbs up in return. He placed an arm around your shoulder, keeping you close to him this time, continuing to walk towards your destination.
Eventually, you reached his office with his arm still around you. You stood behind his desk, watching him rummage through the closet.
"Alright, Y/N-chan!" He yelled in excitement, taking out an empty luggage bag. "Help me with this would ya?"
*skip*
"All good to go, Majima-san," you told your captain who was preparing to go on a flight to Sotenbori in 2 days. He said he was asked to go there for a party or something between yakuzas. You couldn't trust him with packing his things up himself because he would end up forgetting 10 things so you kindly offered to help.
"Thanks for helping a guy out Y/N-chan!" He held out both of his hands with a stupid grin, waiting for you to clap your hands and his together as a way of celebrating. You eventually gave in when awkwardly 10 seconds have passed because he was still stuck in the same position, simply staring. You were his personal assistant, which made his underlings treat you with respect. Though there were times when some of them picked on you, complaining about how a weak, fragile woman like you became his right hand. Of course, this led them to be beaten senseless by none other than Goro Majima himself.
In his luggage was a neat suit his size. You wondered how he would look when he dressed up formally since he's hanging around with his buttons popped out.
Majima sat down on his chair and let down a heavy sigh. "Really wishing I didn't have to go for that place that is practically a fucking bird cage," he pinched the bridge of his nose out of frustration. "Lotta memories ya know? some I don't wanna remember."
"Why weren't you able to refuse the invitation?" You asked him, standing in front of his desk.
"Fucking letter said Kiryu-chan would be there."
"And if he won't?"
"I'm taking my chances," he spun around on the office chair. "Besides, gotta dance with some girlies once in a while!" You narrowed your eyes at the latter but quickly recovered so he wouldn't notice. Yet he still did, smirking to himself when he got that reaction out of you. You walked towards the window to look out the city, distracting yourself from the family patriarch.
"Hey, Y/N-chan," he spoke normally. Normally. Like not a high-pitched maniac. That kind of surprised you because you never really heard this side of him.
"Yes, Majim-", before you could even turn around to face him, you were suddenly enveloped in strong arms. Your back was against his chest, feeling his steady breathing, his hands gently touched yours. You were taken aback by the sudden gesture of your patriarch, feeling his chin rest on top of your head. "Take care of yourself while I'm out, alright?" He gave you a tight hug for a second before walking out the door, leaving you frozen in place.
You decided to take a stroll around the city to process what just happened between you and Majima. Every street, store, and club reminded you of the times you spent together. Fighting in the middle of the street, or singing karaoke with him. You passed by Nakamichi Street and saw that huge cone you bought with him, surprised no one had even removed it yet. You smiled to yourself when you remembered the time the both of you went shopping for traffic cones.
*flashback*
"I DON'T FIT IN THIS I THINK I'M STUCK HELP PULL ME OUT!" Majima screamed inside the traffic cone. He clearly wasn't gonna fit inside yet he still insisted on trying it out.
You pulled it and revealed Majima panting and shedding so much sweat. Setting the medium-sized traffic cone aside, you looked for a bigger one. "Majima-san, why are we doing this again?"
"I was waiting for ya to ask, Y/N-chan!" You exclaimed and shook your shoulders. "You see, I'm gonna hide in one of these bad boys to surprise Kiryu-chan! Shouldn't take him too long to find me since it'll be in plain sight. Now come on!" He took your hand and started running towards a different aisle with bigger traffic cones. You didn't bother suggesting him other ways to throw off Kiryu, chuckling to yourself when you thought about his plan.
You saw the biggest cone you've ever seen in your life, surely he'd fit in it. "Majima-san, I think this would be nice," he let go of your hand and went towards the traffic cone. He lifted it and put himself inside it.
"IT'S PERFECT!" He exclaimed happily inside it. He got out and carried the cone with two hands. "We're buying this! Let's go!" *Meanwhile in the CCTV footage*
The guard watching the monitors was both entertained and confused at the same time. He didn't even bother wanting to stop you guys since it was the first time he has seen two people trying out some traffic cones.
"I don't even wanna question that," his friend said beside him. "Gotta tell these to my kids later at night.'
*present*
"Y/N-CHAN!" A familiar voice hollered behind you from across the street. You turn around to see Majima running up to you, gripping a bag in his hand.
"Majima-san?" You asked with a perplexed look, frozen in place. He finally reached you and started panting, bending to place his hands on his knees for support, "what's the rush? Did you miss me already?"
He regained his breath and looked up at you. "Well, yeah that's another reason I came running towards ya BUT! BUT! BUT!-" He stopped to cough a few times, "I got ya this!" His eyes glimmered as he handed me the white paper bag.
"What even-", you took the bag from his hands and opened it to see a neatly folded black dress inside. Your eyes widened since it was the dress you have been eyeing the other day at a store.
"What- why'd you bother buying this? It was unnecessary Majima-san." He looked defeated. "Thank you so much, but why?"
"Well y'know," he scratched the back of his neck and looked away, avoiding your gaze. "I was sure that you would look amazing as fuck in it. Plus, I neva got to see ya in a dress before, have I? It'd be interesting seeing ya wear one for a change!" He gave you a toothy grin, making your face heat up at the sudden attack of compliments.
"I-", you were cut off when he suddenly clapped his hands together.
"Ah! Which reminds me!" He exclaimed and placed both of his hands on your shoulders, only for you to blink at him. "You're my date to the ball, bye!" He tapped your shoulders, then walked back to where he came from, leaving you perplexed in the middle of the sidewalk. You could hear him laughing hysterically until he faded into a crowd.
Chapter 2 will be released on God-knows-when !
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A Big Fat 🇺🇸🎆🍔-Centric Identity/Heritage Vent
i'm so fucking sick of hearing "if white culture makes you feel empty, identify as what your family was before they assimilated into the social construct" I CAN'T DO THAT THEY'RE ALL ENGLISH.
i don't know where everyone is pulling these 20th century immigrants from but for me everyone going back at least 5 generations was already in the US and assimilated. i have scottish heritage somewhere based on my name but fuck if i know where. my grandma's been maintaining her ancestry.com account for years. it's not in there, which means i probably can't ever find out.
i don't even feel connected to english people. i barely know anything about pre-US english history and most of what i do know is king arthur, the worst kind of christianity, and poverty. there's an english historian in my family, so that's a bad sign.
and apparently everything decent about this country's culture was made or brought in by other people and everything my people made is tainted somehow. the good things always turn out to be exaggerations or just lies. i know that sounds excessive but i just found out dunk tanks were originally racist. fucking DUNK TANKS. even the littlest things. power and business are nice to have but they don't make much of a culture.
my heritage seems to be "cheat and kill better than anyone else, take credit for all our lucky breaks, tell everyone we were pacifist heroes later and if anyone tells the truth, make them shut up". and if i choose not to embrace that i have no heritage at all.
and again, english, so i can't pull some "nope, not me actually" card and hop over to a culture i like better than "generic white". i know that's insulting but it reminds me of when i was in high school and i was mad at myself for being straight and "part of the problem". it turned out i was queer so it wasn't my problem anymore, but i never actually solved my issues with it, i just found an escape hatch.
also i'm jealous and salty. the rest of yall (another word i thought was ours but isn't), even if you can never get back what you lost, at least you know there WAS something. it's a tragedy but it's not your people's fault. for me... was there ever anything of substance at all?
oh yeah. i'm queer so most of my ancestors would probably hate me anyway, or have values i think are disgusting. joy.
"why not queer english then?" besides the fact a lot of them haven't treated me right? because honestly, when i hear about our history from just 40 years ago i feel like it was a completely different world. i don't feel continuity from stonewall or the aids crisis to my own life. even today, i see some homeless gay teen whose parents kicked them out and i'm furious for them as a human being, but i'm not their people and i know they wouldn't think a middle-class CPA hopeful with supportive parents was theirs either. we've had completely different lives.
and frankly, thinking about our recent past and the injustice of it all makes me want to projectile vomit.
i've tried talking this stuff out with my friends but... my girlfriend has a god complex (/gen /pos) and doesn't understand why i need a heritage, or any culture larger than a friend group. my next-closest political friend is both european and kinda using communism as a replacement for heritage, and everyone else i'm either not close enough to talk about this or they don't care about this stuff.
(also, and this is a genuine question so please reblog and explain if i'm wrong, why is, say, blackness more real than whiteness? they were both manufactured at similar times by english people, a bunch of groups lumped together regardless of heritage, but i consistently hear people say one is real and the other is not.
i know most black people can't find out their original ancestries anymore but identifying as black is clearly more than "the only available option" for people. it feels like the unspoken answer is "ours is good and yours is evil" but of course no one wants to say they think that way out loud.)
the point is. i feel like i've been in a culture of one my whole life. i'm not proud of my heritage and without it i feel a gaping emptiness without roots and a pinch of essentialism to tell me what to be. no, i shouldn't, my girlfriend never stops telling me BUT I DO.
does anyone else have this problem.
#whiteness#these notes are either gonna be empty or hell there's no in-between#vent#identity#ethnicity#rant post
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Indefinite Hiatus
god i haven't made a hiatus post for what seems like a year now lol.
anyway! yeah so about like 2 weeks ago i thought of just deleting this account because i don't feel much of a reason to come on here anymore lmao. but i didn't want to make an impulse decision, so i'm gonna keep it up. there are some personal reasons as to why i don't really have much motivation to post on this blog anymore, which i'll leave below, but it's mostly because of self-care reasons and just having other priorities in general.
i'll probably come back and be literally active, but it's gonna be quite a while, like several months or maybe even years, idk. i'm just doing myself a favor and taking a break from a lot of things right now for the sake of my own mental well-being.
any of my mutuals or followers can contact me on discord! i'm softangelics :)
(just shoot me a dm so i know who you are, if you would!)
as i said above, most of this is just to take a break from things and to focus on my own mental, emotional, physical, and spiritual health just a little bit more. over the last few years or so, i've realized that my home isn't really a mentally and emotionally healthy environment, so i think it's a good idea for me to prioritize myself to keep myself sane, lmao.
i've realized recently that i've completely lost my dad to conspiracy theories and general unhealthy behavior and that he's not a healthy father figure; i need time to come to terms with that. it doesn't help that my mom is also following him down the rabbit hole, even if her beliefs are more watered-down. my parents have a very unhealthy relationship, anyway.
bts hasn't really been my first priority (as they shouldn't be, i don't think; if i said this on army twitter i'd be dead lol). so it's not in a "i've left the magic shop 😔" kinda way, lmao. it's just lately i've been wanting to focus on caring for myself, connecting deeper with my faith, figuring out what i really want and need in life, etc. so that's kinda why i'm dropping this blog for either a little while, or forever! who knows! and i do miss them together as seven a fuck ton, don't think i don't ;)
but yeah, lately i've just being feeling this weird kind of apathy and emptiness that i haven't felt in a really long time, and i think it's time i heal (?) from whatever i need to heal from. i don't really know how exactly i'm gonna go about that, but that's exactly why i need this break! if i do come back, i hope i come back as a wiser and generally healthier person <3
i love all of you so much! as i said, you can contact me whenever you want :)
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Continued.
@Imnotuptight
Compliments; Mia ever rarely dished out. Because giving out a sentiment; a compliment indicated you liked someone or thought highly of them. Mia kept her heart close to herself; she kept people at arms distance for a reason. She’s been burned for far too many years in the making. Her own dad died when she was only a baby; barely could count in her head how long his presence lasted. And her mother; Felicity as the blonde liked to call her. Mother meant endearing love and right now I was angry, I didn’t want Felicity to find me. I was my father’s daughter. Holding grudges, being angry at the lies, the betrayal I felt.
She lied to me, she betrayed the bond I thought she had; about who Oliver Queen was. He wasn’t just a loyal man, he wasn’t just a loving father for the time he had. He was a hero; the Green Arrow. The news of his absence, the void his loss held followed me everywhere. Except I only recently found out that man behind the mask was the man who I lost as a baby. I felt the grief all over again. The arrows I touched felt like him, it made me feel connected to him. Our time was cut short; I wished I was raised by him; the guy I idolized. And Parker I didn’t know him personally but he seemed to be decent; someone who was willing to let a complete stranger inside.
He was a doctor so I suppose it was built inside of him; but I could’ve been a stalker for all he knew; a girl who was banging on the bar door just for his attention. Not that the female would ever; please she don’t beg. She was a strong independent women; she was capable of fending for herself. But still she got the idea that Parker was surprised by her; her comment I mean; hiding the slight simper that dared to appear over bare lips. Blonde locks strayed over her shoulder; one piece of hair covering her eye; as her hues were glued to the bandaged hand she now was nursing at his request.
“ Don’t take the time with your parents your family for granted okay.” A slight remark, one that held accountability with herself. The blonde had tried to brush it off; turning her attention to the empty glass now in front of her; her good hand wrapped around it, as she attempted to brush off her own dealings. Perhaps it was easier to give advice rather than follow through with your own.
How long was I sticking around? Honestly I had no idea. Because I was a mover; a runner; if Felicity cared about me the way she claimed than I wouldn’t be surprised if she was hot on my trail which meant if I wanted to stay hidden I’d give myself a day max on staying put; but given the coloring of my palm, the swelling that was yet to go down; I had the feeling my luck would stay put in the presence of Parker; a doctor in training, I felt safer with my injured hand here assuming the boy with a good head on his shoulders allowed it. Jumping down from the stool; shoes hit the floorboards as I forced a real smile to occupy my face. “ Seeing as you’re doctoring me and all I guess I could stay a day or two until this bad boy is healed up.” A sheepish glance as I held up my hand wrapped up with white cloth; but I was earning my keep.
Mia rounded the counter until managed to step behind the bar. “ But you have to let me help, I’m no good of a patient, as you’ll learn.”
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in 2017, i tried to start this project where anyone could call a number and leave a voicemail of literally anything; sounds, memories, whatever they wanted that was tied to a music project called enoshima that had gone dormant until “recently”. i put “recently” in quotes bc i guess we will just have to wait and see (if ur like me with trying to find new music, if u do enough digging on the internet i’m sure you’ll find some stuff) the goal was to use a landline phone with cassette answering machine so i could keep hard copies for a future use of an idea. after buying three used landline phones and phone calls not triggering the answering machines but luckily would still get email copies of the few voicemail audio files i did…in short, the idea failed miserably due to lack of reach, personal reasons, and money because its not free to have a phone number lol and the enoshima project just went dormant with its own reasons as well…
in 2019, i started to brainstorm a more intentional concept that would connect the caller/listener with the music i had started to write (the current project, mallbangs, that i feel lucky enough and honored to work with the people i do now and have had worked with previously, when it always feels so embarrassing for me to release any of it) and the kind of experience i am trying to thread together now, community and a space in the art, music from inside and outside the digital space. i guess attempting to ground the way that i and i think a lot of ppl consume art these days; strictly through their phones.. it’s why i use my music in the voicemail videos and posts with the hope that ppl make the connection that it’s tied together..well.. it sorta started to gain very little traction but better than it had ever previously.
i think the fact that it began to reach ppl was in part due to 2020 and everything that started unfolding that year; pandemic, quarantine, school years and graduations/normal experiences just evaporated, here in the united states the murders of george floyd and rayshard brooks and the summer uprising of 2020.. i could obviously go on… come january 4th 2022, after a year or so of randomly posting about it because i started to think it wasn’t something ppl were really interested in, it went viral. i spent literally 24 hrs, multiple days, no sleep, emptying the voicemail box every 10 - 20 minutes because that many ppl were calling. i got so anxious, and this feeling of guilt because i wanted everyone who was calling to have the ability to leave one. i didn’t want to let anyone down those first weeks. it’s not as intense as it was then but im still emptying the voicemail box multiple times a day. i’m ngl i freaked out. it was completely overwhelming.
through out last year the project, my personal, and music accounts nearly got banned about 20 times or so because i was unaware that i was doing something that wasn’t allowed on a certain platform. somehow, all of the accounts survived, and it’s up to over 80k voicemails. i even started accepting DMs to post just in case speaking was too much for someone and that’s at a few thousand now. started a p.o. box as well and that’s been very little. allowing the project to evolve into web of different formats naturally as it feels that it wants to. i’m not sure if someone’s written words are any easier to absorb than hearing some ppls pain audibly. both written and audio recorded msgs have made me breakdown more than i can count on what seems inevitable but still for unknown reasons to myself, unexpected.
the new song gutter was inherently inspired and written about all of those emotions i had and have been feeling from the voicemails and what not as well as my own personal shit whether i was consciously aware of it at the time or not. some of the time im oblivious when writing. more often than not it just happens melodies and lyrics fall out like word vomit. stream of consciousness or serendipitous i guess. it became evident it was inspired by all of the aforementioned when i started trying to piece together random lyrics it already had ruminating and while demoing it out. the song had started to, in a way, show me what i was trying to convey. which is why you hear the guttural stutter in the beginning and end. its the dying sound of the radio in my car i no longer have for transportation and hundreds of voicemails collaged together in the demo. When i went to actually record the song, i insisted on keeping that collaged stutter of voicemail’s and noise bc it would have lost what i felt made it even more personal for me. idk if this is fucking pretentious or stupid to say, but that incessant stutter is like symbolic for getting drowned out when u need to be heard.. isolation.. denial.. i guess, if the lyrics are even that revealing. i always try to make lyrics not so surface level but yea i think this one is maybe more surface level than others and yea i just think the stutter sounds cool too.
if you’ve been following the music or the voicemail project for a while, this song could either have been a subliminal experience (of) or maybe surface level at best what its place is in either the VM project or in the music; descending from the official version, a demo version lazily titled “sorry demo”, and the early version which was an acoustic demo. the latter of said three versions had long been the de facto voicemail project song for a while, I guess.
if its familiar to you because you know me its probably because, as you know, I tend to neurotically play so many song ideas on the guitar into the ground that it’s to the point I don’t realize Im playing them when im around y’all lol
to everyone else, if this song had been familiar at all to you prior to it being released it is because the acoustic demo version was used around that period of time in 2022 when i was repeatedly getting threatened with being banned.. potentially losing the VM project’s account, the art, and the memories of genuine interactions with strangers that I often tend to think isn’t really real sometimes. Like having felt some of you accepted me for me or what I am emotionally/comfortably able to present to you online..and in that sentiment irl I maybe take for granted interactions with new potential friends or even strangers sometimes as well tbh.
I realize all of that previous paragraph could be redundant, im sorry :/ But, I have such strong passion for the music and the voicemail thing. So much so that i’ve never monetized any of the voicemail stuff. i’ve never made any “merch/products” to sell or have tried to turn it into a business because these things i create or write mean more to me than the idea of “curating for profit”. never intended for any of the voicemail stuff to be a “marketing strategy” thing. the music hasn’t been recognized as part of this thing, probably due to my lack of making the concept of all of this clear, and probably because of my pride in not wanting any of this to be perceived as such. which i know in this capitalistic hellscape it will be ripped off and done in such a way that someone may be successful from it, its already happening as many have pointed out to me.
out of all this silly voicemail thing and my musical attempt, the most important thing i’ve learned is that everyone just needs someone to speak to even if they don’t talk back. someone just to listen. to be able to get lost in music that takes them somewhere they can feel comfortable like i try to do everyday when listening to music. the voicemails, the DMs, writing music.. it gets very mentally and emotionally overwhelming for me.. listening to them everyday, reading the DMs everyday, struggling to gather the energy in me that never seems to wither to just write.. and if someone offered me a path that is without any of that? i wouldn’t take it. even if it meant making some of these lingering feelings just go away for good.
a few people have told me to end the project because they’re afraid of what it could be doing to me. their concern is valid. i won’t deny that. but i feel as if this thing is larger than myself at this point. and i think the take away for me from all of this is that, im just glad this silly little idea may be helping someone when i myself most times feel like i have nowhere to go or no one to run to. and if i die tomorrow ill be at some what of peace knowing that if i have done anything worth meaning in this short experience of life that we all get to share with one another, its the music and this voicemail project and the community, the safe space ..all of whatever the music and this project has given someone…everything i feel that i never had. i feel eternally honored and grateful that if at all, it has helped someone when i couldnt even help myself.
there’s nothing i could give that’s of equal value to the gratitude i have for anyone that has ever left a msg of some sort and has or continues to support this project and the music. so all i can say is thank you.
with all the love i have,
aidy <3
#the voicemail project#voicemail project#mallbangs#if u read all of this ty for reading it means a lot
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How are you liking mastodon so far? I saw lots of people on twitter threatening to leave for mastodon.
I like it! I've been using it since April 2020 and I've always liked it, but recently the influx of people coming from Twitter has been noticeable and it's much more active now, so even better.
I never really liked Twitter for 2 main reasons, which are both addressed in Mastodon.
The 1st one is that lots of people there were annoying, fighting in bad faith, and engaging with tweets made on propose to be incendiary. I don't believe rage is a bad thing, particularly when it comes to social/political topics it's both natural and productive, but on Twitter so much of it seemed self-destructive, unproductive and just tiring ourselves without convincing anyone.
Mastodon so far in my experience has proved to be completely different in this sense, and they do so on purpose. Mastodon doesn't have an algorithm (it works more like Tumblr than like Twitter in this sense), so it doesn't boost incendiary tweets and misinformation just because people have clicked on it or spent time looking at it. Another way in which Mastodon avoids this is by not having the quote-tweet option, precisely for this reason, because they know that that was one of the main ways that hate was spread. Thirdly, being in a decentralized platform means that the (few) servers who allow neonazis/racists/hate speech are blocked by most of all the other servers, so we just don't see them and they don't see us, as if they didn't exist. It's not restrictive enough that we have to bother about censorship (and if a server feels like that, you have thousands of other servers with different rules to move to), but it does make a difference in not seeing neonazis. Besides all that, tbh, I don't know if it's as a result of this or because it's generally more conscious people who have been there for longer and have set the mood, but the community in general seems very chill, kind, and happy to help.
The 2nd reason I didn't like Twitter is because of the word-limit. It's so short that it doesn't allow for many interesting posts and it contributes to people fighting over stupid things because they don't have space to explain themselves well. Mastodon still has a word limit, but it's longer than Twitter. This already makes a difference and doesn't make you need to use a thread for everything. I still tend to talk quite a lot so I prefer it to be like here on Tumblr, but I understand lots of people prefer shorter texts and if they're interested in it they'll just open the thread.
There's content I enjoy on Mastodon, I like following artists there and there's many people who talk about topics I like (the mythology and folklore side of Mastodon seems to be particularly active). Some singers I like are also there (my dear Xavi Sarrià and also Cesk Freixas, both being very kind and involved with the community). Though tbf the Catalan-speaking online community has always been particularly active in free spaces like Mastodon, Wikipedia, etc.
So yeah, that's my experience from the point of view of the user. But besides that there's of course all the ethical reasons for leaving Twitter and moving to Mastodon, which you probably already know about. But yeah, I enjoy it there and everyone seems very kind and happy to help with questions about the fediverse or anything else. I posted saying I had created my first Wikipedia page from scratch (Koisenu Futari page in Catalan) and so many people sent congratulations messages and were so sweet about it 🥹
The only bad thing I've found so far is that there's less activity than in mainstream social media, so there's topics many topics where there's little content. Basically, the only problem I've found is that in some circles it can still feel a bit "empty". There are news that soon Tumblr will join the federated timeline, meaning that from Mastodon we'll be able to follow Tumblr accounts and retweet from them as if Tumblr was one more (huge) Mastodon server, so that should be solved.
Summing up, I recommend moving there! I've found it easier and more pleasant to use than Twitter. (But I still like Tumblr more than any other social media, mostly because how many types of content it supports, because I already follow interesting blogs here, and because of the tag system.)
P.S.: a bit out of topic but recently I've also been trying BookWyrm (the fediverse equivalent of Goodreads). I've been writing down pros and cons of it and I was planning on making a post reviewing it once I've been using it for a bit longer.
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Charcherry Weekly - Issue 122
Hello everyone, Mage of Light Nick Card here. The colder weather is bringing activity in spades, it seems. Let's get to the news.
In other news, shortly after the fabric of luck itself had changed, Thoren managed to befriend a shiny dunsparce named Lucky.
As of late, there has been a notable amount of misfortune at hand. Most recent incident involved Heir of Time Thoren Emit. They had encountered a duskull and found themself unable to flee or direct their swellow in battle, and had been locked in a sorry state until their pokemon finally listened to them.
The next day, the dungeon crashers set out to tackle dungeon500.
The party included Rogue of Heart Charles, Heir of Time Rise Emit, their sister Brae Emit, Bounty Hunter Samus Kitten, and Witch of Time Katyleen Kitten. They managed to clear a series of puzzles, also rescuing the dungeon master, aquaticDiskjockey.
At the end, the party encountered the source of their misfortune: the Dice Maiden. Reportedly, she had previously only been a concept, which grew to have a will of her own, after being attributed to being the source of Charles's common misfortunes through sheer hate. She had also mentioned that she was jealous of Rise for attracting a certain page of void, who she had been interested in. The party fought her. Charles dealt the finishing blow with a blast from the Animus Telum, dubbed the Annihilation Burst. This was enough to destroy the dungeon core and the dice maiden, leaving only her dress and some dust behind. A battlechip also appeared after Charles completed their attack. Reportedly, Charles had actually died, or reached a state close enough to death to be revived by dungeon500's multiple life system.
The party took their leave after claiming an amount of treasure offered to them by aquaticDiscjockey. A golden timespace frog was one of the treasures, having been the 13th of a set of 12. The frog was claimed by Samus and is now called nugget.
After the defeat of the dicemaiden, the fabric of fortune itself was changed, no longer pulled by Her influence.
After her death, a ~ATH epitaph was sent to an otherwise mostly empty tumblr blog, which attempted to send a message straight to the CEO of voidco, via the old blog that he had previously curated. No known action has been taken as a result of that message... yet.
there is also @shinyjiggly, however that appears to be a shared blog, with a number of posts made by a vanilla timeline version of myself/Aeons.
At some point this week, a particular tumblr account was found, which appeared to have ties to voidco. The account is unknownworkaccount, and it seems to tag every interaction with a dungeon crasher with their "subject number". Naturally, with everyone wanting to know their funney number [ sic ], a handful of tumblr blogs were set up specifically to initially interact with this blog. Of course, many of them have decided to continue using the platform, as it works quite well and is far less toxic than twitter.
the following blogs have given their permission to be published in this publication:
@sour-fruit
@flyingincandescent
@feverishuproar
@rebelliousnoise
@empoweringkittens
@threecatgirls
@frozenlake2point5
@ifelsethenwhat
On the first of December, on a cool crisp night, a golden wave swept across Starter Planet, having been traced to a set of mysterious ruins which appear to have retconned itself into existence. The ruins highly resemble the sinjoh ruins from pokemon heartgold and soulsilver, known for being a place of importance to Pokemon God Arceus the Original One. It was after this that an embargo was lifted over the transit of pokemon from the very new Paldea region. Brae, having been to that region before the embargo, had a number of new pokemon to gift to various people after the golden wave had occurred. Reportedly, Page of Rage Jovin Castle got knocked out by the primeape he received, but seems to be in a stable condition. Thoren was given an Iron Bundle, a mysterious robotic delibird. Mai and Samus were given two different breeds of paldean tauros. Rise was given a finizen, and Thanatos was given a greavard.
There has been some interest in an expedition to the new sinjoh ruins, though a date has yet to be set for this journey.
The next day, a member of The Fallen had reportedly gone missing! According to Professional Reaper Thanatos Emit, the incident occurred shortly after they had received the greavard from Brae. It had been brought to their attention by a version of Rise's Gallade that had arrived down there at some point. It is assumed that Fallen Member Hyacinth was the one taken by voidco agents, but this has yet to be confirmed. Even the motive hs yet to be confirmed. Further details ongoing.
After Heir of Time Thoren Emit asked about the possibility of when and how to earn a gym badge, Rogue of Heart Charles began studying various sets of gym badges to see what sort of features and unique features they might have. For this, they invited pokemon breeder HAZEL to their sea base. While here, Charles also studied her pokedex to a degree. It turned out to have been used for so long, that a pinkan porygon had emerged from it. Charles reportedly gave HAZEL an upgraded ultradex for the porygon to migrate to. This move managed to be completed flawlessly. It is hoped that this porygon manages to improve the ultradex's readings and data collection.
Also on this day, my double, Mage of Light Nick Card from before the retcon, managed to regain contact with our group. They were very upset to learn that they were apparently manipulated by the page of void to cause that incredibly destructive retcon in the first place. While I want to be mad at my other self, the fact that the page of darkness showed up in the memo while writing this to confirm his intentions really put the nail in his coffin for me. Your dear newsletter writer may have blood on their hands if brought into attack range.
Meanwhile, a mysterious new person known as Flux also appeared in the memo. She apparently appeared on the isle of chronos, searching for the temporics, claiming to resemble one to a degree. It is unknown what her intentions are, but I am confident that she has a good head on her shoulders. There are theories regarding her identity, but those will remain unpublished for the time being, until better confirmation can be given.
This week’s known market stands in Desertia Town:
Purse stand (this week)
Bar Soap stand (this week)
Katie’s potion stand (*CaFAI filling in for Katie when unavailable)
Brae’s canned goods stand (currently being restocked)
shinyjiggly pokesnacks stand (ran by Rufus)
I think that does i for tonight. Make sure to stay safe out there.
https://letssosl.boards.net/thread/348/charcherry-weekly-issue-122
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There is a person on IG that looks to be of East Asian descent who is a hobbyist model. They have recently taken to wearing hanfu in at least 3 photoshoots I have seen to date.
All of the hairstyles are Wrong. It may look kind of right or okay at first glance, but when you look a bit closer they just seem just a little bit off. I do not know how to explain this Exactly Precisely except for pointing out that in varying cases, it is a) too wide; b) not enough accessories in the appropriate places (you do not make a big hairstyle with a lot of empty spaces normally unless it is to put accessories in. In dynastic eras the more elaborate the hairstyle the more pins you have in it. This is because the pins hold the style and the various bits that go into that style in place. So a great big empty space is Unrealistic because it looks like Something Is Missing, unless it is a simple enough hairstyle that it can feasibly be held up with minimal pins.), for instance having pins in the front but no adornments in the back; c) in the latest post I just saw, the front sections of their hair are just Down while there are braids to the back of it. This Does Not Happen. At most you are allowed some strands of hair escaping at the front, you Cannot have whole front sections of your hair on each side down. Or else they are Too Tall and just Straight Up. Unrealistically so. It is just Wrong.
I have never seen such Wrong hairstyles in hanfu before. It Bothers me so much. Even just leaving their hair down would be better.
I realise after I have written this that it is just sad and kind of upsetting to see when people (diaspora) are trying to reconnect with their heritage and are either misinformed or miss the mark in terms of 'Actually, That's... Not It' somehow. It also annoys me because this can go on to misinform other people not from our culture as to what something is or looks like.
Like I understand that diasporic Chinese food for instance is its own thing, but like - I saw a post somewhere where a Chinese diaspora person had written in a novel all poetically about the way a particular Chinese character supposedly came to be written as it is (told, of course, to them by a 'Master Wang') - they said the word 黑 ('black', pronounced hēi) is made up of a mouth (口) bifurcated by and on top of earth/ground (土) being heated over fire (火), even going so far as to make metaphors about it.
This is completely incorrect. It's actually a field (田) on top of the earth (土) and fire below (火). It cannot be a mouth (口) because it does not account for the two dots/点 in the 'mouth' at the very top of the word 黑. Just Googling it on Wiktionary will show you this.
But it's... published in an English-language book now, this. And I came across it because some other Chinese diaspora person had shared this page, commenting that this author 'writes so evocatively of characters that it gives them such feeling' or something to that effect. When it is flat out Wrong.
It's just in the same vein of things as like - once a Chinese diasporic friend said they were looking at buying some hanfu and wanted my opinions on which, and proceeded to show me something on Etsy that, at a glance, was immediately clear to me that it wasn't hanfu; it was more Japanese (the belt/sash was wrong, it was too wide and fastened differently iirc, something like that). Or like when I and my dad wore hanfu for Chinese New Year back home in Sg, and my uncle and several other people commented like, 'Wah, wearing kimono ah/why wearing Japanese stuff?'
Like... I understand that reconnecting with heritage is a tricky thing, especially when you don't have a lot of background, which is kind of the whole thing, in many cases; and that it is a very personal thing and that in some cases as diaspora it is completely about transforming or making something new of it. But at the same time, some things really are 'right' or 'wrong', in the sense that some things do fall within a 'Yes this is how it looks like/is done' and 'Oh that's not quite how it is' circle. Like it just wouldn't be true to say that, oh, idk, Chinese people believe that the Jade Emperor is the One God. The Jade Emperor is one of the immortals we have in our lore/believe in! But it's not true that we think there's only The One God. Or something like - God forbid, wearing the collar crossed right over left (only done at funerals after the person is Dead).
You are free to break the rules - but only if you know them well enough first to know what the rules Are.
#sigh.#not to be Gatekeepy but like. genuinely. sometimes things really are just. Wrong.#like pls go and look stuff up u kno watch a chinese-made piece of media see how things are depicted that kinda thing familiarise yourself#there is so much info available in english#there are tutorials on YouTube for stuff like hanfu hairstyles even simple ones for under 5min#stylistic choices are one thing & like just Doing Something Because are two different things#personal#like i just mean - if you wanna do a hanfu hairstyle there are SO MANY refs#go back to looking at chinese paintings or wall art depictions even#but when you make something up on the spot with little to no understanding beyond some Impressions it shows
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The Ghost In The Attic
Investigator: Atticus Bishop
Client(s) Name: John & Abigail Swanson
Address: 325 Wallaby Way, South Dakota, USA
Complaint: Loud noises in the attic at night, things moved around from one side of the room to the other, voices, the occasional smell of perfume.
Account: I met with Mr & Mrs Swanson on April 18th, 2018. They'd called me on April 12th, stating that they believed a spirit to be in the attic. They'd taken the time to leave animal traps upstairs, only for them to remain empty and untriggered. Originally, the Swanson family thought that it was a raccoon or possibly even several of them living in the attic. However, there has been evidence gathered since that does not coberate this hypothesis.
Evidence includes, but is not limited to:
-Voice recordings
-Video recordings
-Photographs
-Ouija Sessions
Day #1 of Investigation
Upon arriving, the Swanson couple showed me to the place of investigation. An attic, filled with clothing and small pieces of furniture for storing. First glance, almost nothing out of ordinary, except for a small collection of small clown dolls in a glass-covered display case.
"They were all gifts from a creepy uncle on my side," interjected Mrs. Swanson.
"He'd been giving them to us since we got married in the 1990s, and he recently passed," Mr. Swanson chimed in.
Such volunteering of information almost made it seem like they suspected him of being their lively haiunt. I asked them when exactly this activity started and if it had gotten worse over time. As it turns out, the activity had always been there, and indeed has gotten worse since the uncle's passing. A two-in-one haunting perhaps?
Further research into the estate is needed. Thus far, I have collected two EVP (Electronic Voice Phenomena) sessions, several photos taken via digital camera, and I have also collected video via pen camera. Clients were made aware of the pen camera during the initial correspondences before agreeing to take the case.
Day #2 of Investigation
Review of the video and audio has been done. Research on the estate and the family has also been completed. To be quite frank, I'm unsurprised that home and inhabitants are haunted. Both seem to have some... unsolved business about them.
The house was built in 1902 by Jason and Beulah Williams. The Williams' had a family that expanded quite a bit. Seven children were bore, six of which expired before their second birthday. Most of their deaths were suspicious being that their bodies were found bloody and broken. Death reports stated that they were either mauled by a rogue bear, or the children were beaten and killed by a jealous neighbor. Both stories seem unlikely, especially since bears were rarely seen in that area at the time, and the closest neighbors were around two miles away. According to the records of the funeral home at the time, no viewings or funerals were held.
After the deaths of the six children, the last remaining child was showered in adoration, according to a diary found within the home. Said diary was found when the Williams' were found beheaded... by their own son. Bartholomew Williams had slain his parents on his fifteenth birthday. The reason?
"Those swine wouldn't let them live. They wouldn't let me live! All I wanted was an ordinary life! A Plain Jane life! I never asked to be their Devil prodigy. I never asked for them demons to come knocking!! Damn them! Damn them to Hell for all eternity!! I'll see them there. I'll make them regret the day they decided to keep me alive!!"
Turns out, they'd killed their own children. They killed them as a sacrifice to Satan himself so that their first son would become this... monster of sorts. They wanted their son to grow into something twisted. They wanted their son to eventually become a demon through his actions. According to Beulah's diary, it all went according to plan. She knew he would snap and kill them in some gruesome way. I'm not sure if beheading was the preferred choice for her, but that's it ended for them.
Since then, there seems to be a string of hauntings that range from simple bumps in the night all the way to full on attacks. Scratching, biting, objects thrown, people thrown. You name it, it has happened. Demons were theorized to be there. Demons seem to be a reoccurring theme here.
As for the Swanson's, that family tree is almost like a carrot. As it turns out, the happy couple are second cousins. Logically speaking, that is genetically a bad idea. However, in the vein of keeping 'power' strong, it makes sense. Wrong morally, but it still makes sense. The Swanson family has a long list of magic workers, demonolatrists, and priestesses. Spells, rituals, demonic worshipping, and temple priestesses for various deities. Most of the worshipping though? Demons were the focus.
According to the couple, they do not partake in such family traditions. While they did admit that their incestuous marriage was arranged and accepted by them, the rituals were not something they have partaken in for years. That creepy uncle? He was one that partook in such traditions, and according to the uncle's wife, he enchanted each and every one of those dolls in the attic. Every single one.
On to the audio and visual evidence. The two EVP sessions proved fruitful, the collection of twelve photos taken have resulted in at least four of them having phenomena present, and the video taken shows a handful of instances of something throughout the house following the Swansons and myself up to the attic. The entity seen looked human or humanoid.
Hypothetically, this could have been the uncle or possibly even the previous owners of this residence. I will have to further investigate on the video taken. Thus far, however, the evidence definitely points to a paranormal haunting. Further investigation will continue tomorrow.
Day #3 of Investigation
Further analysis of the audio files revealed the entity that was caught most often was, very possibly, a demon or at least a darker spirit. Growls were heard often, as were hisses when the Swansons discussed some of their family history. Could this be the demon that the Williams sacrificed their children to? Bartholomew himself? Could this be the 'creepy uncle'?
Answers are obtained to these questions, in due time. Tonight, a seance will be performed through the means of an ouija board, a pendulum, and candles. By cycling through the divination means, there should be some sort of sign as to who it is. Let's just hope that things don't get out of hand.
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The means of information gathering has been completed, and it is as I thought. I got two spirits to respond to our efforts. As it turns out, Bartholomew is not as bad as originally theorized or shown in the newspapers records. He has been guarding the house, yes, so that explains the bumps in the night over the years. That also explains some more serious cases of poltergeist activity in the past. Bartholomew would put the activity into overdrive when the home's inhabitants weren't so savory, or when abuse was present.
The second spirit caught in the house? That creepy uncle is now an upset uncle. He'd been moving the dolls, the furniture, and he'd been causing the foot steps in the attic. The reason for being upset? The couple didn't like the dolls enough to showcase them downstairs. Of all things to be upset about, it was that. It almost feels anticlimactic.
Nonetheless, compromise has been made. Bartholomew only asks that the Swansons continue being as they are, loving to one another and nice to as many people as possible, things he wanted to see and have done in life. Creepy Uncle Mark, well, he just wants a couple of the dolls downstairs. "The best of the bunch," is what I believe he said. Class A EVP material.
The Swansons have since left two dolls downstairs, a ballerina in a lilac tutu with a bright red nose and a mime with it's hand raise in a wave of hello. A promise has also been made to Bartholomew. The couple will also be leaving small offerings on an altar dedicated to the souls that pass.
6 Months Later
The couple has since reached out to PPIC and shared what has been happening. The activity that once kept them up at night and on edge has since declined to a relatively peaceful pace. Once in a while, they'll feel a random cold burst in a room, and they'll say hello. The offerings seem to have helped calm another spirits that have passed through that residence. While there is no want for casting spells or having complex rituals, the Swansons have started to go back to some of their spiritual roots with observing the sabbats, sitting in the moonlight and praying, and doing weekly home cleansing using the sound of bells.
Case is officially closed.
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Starting New
Its finally here, I’m finally down in Australia for my first time since 2017. I haven’t been here very long — still less than 24 hours — but this still feels so crazy. Like, what am I even doing here?! It doesn’t feel real even. Yesterday I walked around and I think I was on autopilot. I’ve felt a mix of everything from nervousness to excitement. Sure, I’ve been a bit anxious too. Everything is a mystery right now and I feel like I’m starting new. I’ve got a new phone number, I’ve applied for a tax number, I’m getting a new bank account, in all, I’m doing things that are getting me started for a (possible) year long journey down here. I don’t have to stay the entire length of the visa, of course, but that option is always there. Its incredible.
The weather was gorgeous when I landed. It didn’t seem it was going to be that way on the airplane’s approach to the Australian coast. There were massive cumulonimbus clouds and it seemed as if Sydney was having a massive thunderstorm as we moved closer to land. As we made our way through the clouds, they all seemed to disappear at once, and nothing but the morning light rising to the east had shown over a sleepy Sydney. It was beautiful. Landing, I was hit with the familiar scents and warmth of humidity that comes after a rain and a heavy storm — I guess we did just miss the weather. I made my way through customs and got into the country. First thing I did was I walked outside of the terminal. Paradise. I walked back in to set up my phone’s sim using the airport wifi, made my way to “Macca’s” for a quick 7am cheeseburger, and proceeded to the train station. I got myself an Opal card and topped it off at $60 AUD — thinking that this would be PLENTY. Well, one thing the Aussies do when you take public transport leaving the airport is they charge you a massive amount of money. So as I exited my station at Bondi Junction, I noticed my balance was now $39.87. WHAT? Okay, I didn’t mind. My friend Emily told me that they only do that from the airport. Since then, I have brought the balance down to around $34, but that was after several train and bus trips through the city.
First thing I did this morning after getting to the hostel was to change into my bathing suit. The weather could not have been more perfect, and I mean it. Between the beautiful gentle breeze, cooling me down and relaxing me, and the tall waves crashing down in front of me at a nearly-empty Bondi Beach, I was in heaven. I write this now at 3:30am, completely succumbed to the will of jet-lag, and hoping for a repeat day. Something about all the beach bums with their long hair and wetsuits was really phenomenal. I can’t believe how many beautiful people exist here too. This place is, just, really something.
In recent days I’ve battled with whether or not I would post here on this page. This was after learning SOME people have access to it :’). But, that was a short self-battle. I’ve always posted here, and I will continue to do so. This is a public forum and I’m glad that I was reminded of this. Nothing about posting online is personal so why should I pretend it is? Its not a big deal, even if I was a bit embarrassed at the fact that there are actually people reading this, and that I’m writing (at times) some extremely personal stuff, as I will below.
I have not really talked about the past week or whats gone on. Last week, before my move to Australia, a friend of mine had come to visit me. This was a friend whom I met in Greece, at a bar in Kalabaka. Thats not entirely true. We met on Tinder, but after meeting for drinks and talking, I gauged everything to be friendly. We kept in touch as we went separate ways — me to Prague and back home, her to Iceland. While I was home she wanted to meet up. I thought about going up to Montreal, but I decided against it and all I could think about was my last visit up there. That was magical. So, I agreed, fully knowing how challenging it would be to try to settle my affairs at home and still travel northbound. She was excited and made plans for the both of us, meanwhile I was trying to find ways to get out of my agreement. I ended up telling her it just didn’t make sense for me to go up there. She, immediately, offered to come down and said she could stay with me. Okay, sure, “yeah, you can stay at my place” that’s okay. She came down, brought me some tim hortons (which I really missed), we mostly watched Star Trek — in separate chairs, we hung out, Mittens hissed at her worse than he’s done to anyone, we went to the Boston Athenaeum and spent half a day there, played trivia together, and we slept separately at night 2 nights in a row. She left that next day.
This is where it gets personal. I guess all of that wasn’t satisfactory for her. She felt confused, I guess, and as it turns out I misread everything. Well, she wanted to come back down before I left, and we set the rules that we are NOT looking for anything together. She again, came down, brought tim hortons again, and I got us a hotel room. It was a great time, we went out into the North End and got dinner and walked around a bit, talked, and hung out. We didn’t do anything that night, but at 3am the both of us woke up and we slept together. Honestly, I couldn’t stop thinking about my ex, and the sex was awful. It really was awful. I hated everything about it. She was beautiful, she had an amazing body, everything was perfect. But I couldn’t help but think of Katie. Now, SHE was good, this was just so bad. I will leave it at that. She really liked it, and she made that known, but man, this made me miss Katie so much. After everything, I stayed in the shower for a very long time and just thought back, replaying memories in my head, imagining her cute little smirk that told me “I love you, Matt” as she…. ugh… well you know the rest probably. I can’t go further with that. Again, this is a public forum, and now that I know it will be read, I’m hesitant to say things that I know would get me into trouble. Still, if I learned anything from this little fling, I learned that I am not over her yet — and that I took the sex for granted. I hope kt still thinks that I was good 😂😂 not that it matters. I’m hoping things will be different down here in the Land of Oz.
p.s. This all took me a while to write and two of my roommates at the hostel have been talking (and moaning??) in their sleep. I’m the only dude in this room of 8 people which is insane. Anyway, I have to pee and have been trying not to get up, but I definitely have to now. I’ll try and update as my life gets more interesting. Also I need a pair of socks like this guy:
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83
Paris paris stage fright paris. I get on the Eurostar, as does FKA Twigs for some reason, and am no more ready to like the French city than I was during my last two visits. I know I must be there, and that I’m not yet entitled to a quiet winter without completing this last autumn mission. I watch The Whale on the train and, after dropping my phone, I unwittingly inform YouTube’s interface that I am blind, and it begins feeding me audio descriptions of what is taking place on my screen. “Charlie dumps the uneaten treat back into the drawer”, a robotic American woman says, “he begins typing ‘congestive heart failure’ into the search engine”
Ten minutes outside Paris, the train comes to a halt in a French field. The driver announces in French, and then English, that Gare du Nord has been evacuated and we do not have permission to go any further. I text C for journalistic intel, scan Twitter from my empty account. Something about a bomb threat. I guess these are the times we live in now - paying for the guilty consciousnesses of our western countries’ warmongering in disrupted travel time, everybody terrified (often correctly) of a bomb, a terrorism, some vengeance. At St Pancras a woman reported an abandoned plastic bag left in the women’s bathroom, which turned out to be full of sanitary pads and forgotten by a woman who had recently given birth. The Middle East is making a Karen of us all
Eventually we move, and as soon as I am free I walk the 30 minutes in the rain to my hotel, feeling the awkward positioning of each arm holding a suitcase and an umbrella compromising my back. I hit my head on the glass door to the hotel reception, lie on the hotel bed and cry. I lie for an hour and a half, homesick and confused and waiting for dinner. It doesn’t seem to matter to my brain how long the journey to a different country is —being in Paris and being in South Korea have the same disorienting effect. By 7pm I pull myself together and ride the metro to meet G and K at Le Duc, where they have eaten every year for almost two decades, but where I have never been. We eat plate after plate of seafood and bread and butter (with Le Duc stamped in Nazi gothic font onto it) and I try not to think about the homeless man who hobbled onto the train at Les Halles with a poorly bandaged foot oozing fluid, and how much his foot fluid resembles the olive oil drenching the ceviche before us
And so begins the next 20ish hours of my fading in and out of conversation, every moment of peace or connection intruded on by nerves about the concert. I have begun to soothe myself, whenever I panic, by saying “at least you’re not doing stand-up comedy” in my head. And it almost works: playing music is not nearly as brutal as trying to elicit laughter. I have an instrument, accomplices. The comedian has nobody. I argue this case to myself in the bathroom at Le Duc. We stand outside and I light K’s cigarette as I explain that V has doctored the disastrous seating plan for tomorrow’s dinner. “She is really good at that”, I say, opening my palm to check for rain. G jumps in and says, “no no I am good at that too”, forcing me to say “I know I know”. I then experience that familiar twinge of being the referee in a gallery semifinal. In some ways it’s welcome, because it’s the only feeling with sharper edges than stage fright, except for maybe romantic rejection, death
I opt to take the train home instead of G’s offer of a cab ride. I board, and the carriage smells like fecal matter. Some teenagers fight one another playfully as overworked men melt into their seats. I get off, and pass a number of cafes, all with at least one man a little older than me in newsboy caps reading novels at small tables. It is hard to ascertain how much of Paris preceded the much-maligned but much-watched TV show Emily In Paris, or whether the stereotypes depicted in the show made French men lean further into certain behaviours because it promised the affections of foreign women. Either way, one can’t watch that show and then visit Paris without seeing its residue everywhere. I imagine it was fantastic for tourism, which the French seem to pretend not to want, like many things. It is a city barely held together by copyrighted Romance, and no city should rely on this, since the definition of romance only expands so far. It does and will not encompass terrorism or oozing sores, for instance. Though perhaps all cities depend on one lie or another to function, it is just a matter of which lie a mayor chooses
I read in bed and wait to feel sleepy as my heart thuds so hard I can see its outline in my chest. At some point I let go of my desire to be well-rested, dismiss it as frivolous. Only then do I fall asleep, dreaming of nothing
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