#Disturbed Girl's Dictionary

[appleblueberry-pie]

About Yanderes

Content Warning, obviously.

I keep seeing the same issue come up onto my timeline, so I'll speak on it once more.

If you simply search up on Google for the definition of what a Yandere is, it states, "A character, usually a girl, who has an obsessive and possessive side in regards to their crush, ready to use violent and murderous means to maintain an exclusive bond."

Can someone please tell me, what is so......difficult, for lack of a better word, about writing about someone who "is ready to use violent and murderous means to maintain an exclusive bond"?

If you keep scrolling to find more definitions of what a yandere is, you'll find a common theme amongst most.

"A yandere is a character, most often female and in anime, who become violently possessive of a love interest." Dictionary.com

"A person who will go to near-extreme to extreme lengths to be in or deepen a desired relationship, weather it be romantic, platonic, familial, etc." Urban Dictionary

"A yandere is a Japanese archetype used to define a character whose love, admiration, and devotion is so strong that it is expressed as an excessive obsession and..." The Dere Types Wiki

Some key words I would like to point out are crush, love interest, desired relationship, love, devotion.

The thing is, so, so, so, so, so, sooooo many people title the characters that they are writing for as a Yandere, but the behavior of said character is anything but what a Yandere actually is. I just read a short drabble of a Yandere character, and the only thing that happened in the story that stuck with me was straight up rape, sexual assault, force feeding and such. It was pretty disturbing and I definitely know that those are traits that a Yandere would ABSOLUTELY NOT have. There are different types of dere's. And I think people are used to calling everything that isn't the normal way a character behaves as Yandere tendencies.

Holding someone hostage and raping them isn't Yandere tendencies.

Killing a person and having no remorse for that person your character was a supposed Yandere for is not Yandere tendencies.

Killing a person and then your character mentioning if they can't have them, no one can and probably preserving a piece of them to cherish forever is some form of Yandere tendencies.

If you are going to write about Yandere's please check the definition before you write anything down. Because every time I see the word Yandere in front of a character's name, I expect to see them cherish the ground the reader walks on. Kill anyone who gets in their way of having the reader. Loving the reader. Wanting the reader. Wanting to please the reader. Wanting the reader so bad that they can't fucking breathe or live without them. This character should feel like they might fucking DIE without the reader. It's supposed to be a sick love story. But you're missing the love story part.

Please please please please please do your research. I'm very tired of reading about rape and abuse when it's not supposed to be that.

[sisterdivinium]

At the end of my post about Jillian Salvius' clothing and how it mirrored her inner happenings, I briefly mentioned Mother Superion and her attire, planning to develop a fuller analysis at a later date; this is where I attempt it.

A glance suffices to notice how Mother Superion stands out compared to the other members of the Order of the Cruciform Sword, given how starkly her all-black habit contrasts with the hues of blue that characterise the other nuns.

However, it is not common amongst nuns for such dissimilar, distinctive appearances to exist within a same order. The flashback in episode six of season two, through which we are speedily acquainted with the dress code of Suzanne's own Mother Superion, proves that the striking black silhouette she eventually adopts is exclusive to her, Suzanne, rather than some peculiar tradition within the OCS. The other woman, after all, even despite her hierarchical position, wears blue just the same as all other sisters.

Of course, we know that Suzanne is ultimately responsible for this Mother Superion's death and we could assume that, as a Queen Victoria in mourning until the end of her days, her choice in wardrobe could constitute some sort of morbid tribute to her "victim". It might serve as a reminder of her tragic blunder — in Catholic logic, so steeped in ideas of sin and guilt as it is, it would not be unreasonable for Suzanne to wear her own dark grief on her literal sleeve, adding yet another symbol of her failure to the gallery of signs of mortification that the event had already left on her. A grim cloak of funereal black goes along rather harmoniously with a large facial scar, a limp, a cane, all constant reminders of what her mortal sin of pride had done to someone she loved.

Could it be a pesky remnant of that same pride, setting herself visibly apart from her sisters as well as physically? Would penitence not be more properly lived in the humility of looking just like all the others do? Perhaps, but these are conjectures and there is still much more to this our twisted female Oedipus, the unwilling killer of a mother whose place she takes by "marrying" to her same duty. This black outfit Mother Superion dons strangely brings to mind that of an Orthodox priest.

Surely, the reader will recall some defining traits of the Orthodox church, namely its total independence from Rome following the Schism, as well as the autonomy and authority that each of its branches possess; the reader will also kindly remember the definition and etymology of the word "orthodox":

orthodox (ˈɔːθəˌdɒks) adj 1. conforming with established or accepted standards, as in religion, behaviour, or attitudes 2. (Ecclesiastical Terms) conforming to the Christian faith as established by the early Church [C16: via Church Latin from Greek orthodoxos, from orthos correct + doxa belief] (via The Free Dictionary)

Correct belief, as in faithful to its origins, to its heart — to what is understood as and felt to be the truth, uncluttered by scholarship, free from control by a single ruler. Let us keep those words in the back of our mind: correct belief.

For now, we must return to season one, to the inner conflict faced by Mother Superion as she oscillated between choosing to follow Duretti's lead or to stick to what we might tentatively call her own conscience. It is clear that she finds herself at a complicated crossroads.

She does attempt to "conform with established standards", to follow the orders received, to act in accordance with what is expected of her in her position — simply put, to be orthodox in her approach, as much as it seems to disturb her.

I have spoken of verticality before (and, to be honest, so has Sylvia de Fanti herself), so these moments of reasserting her adherence to the rules serve to place Suzanne in that scheme, where she is the superior to the girls but also always the inferior to someone else. They establish how she fits into all of this — and how she must squirm to do so, smothering herself in the process (smothering the same confidence, the same pride which up until then had been a cause only for shame?) so as to serve her purpose within the structure.

The issue of authority and the struggle of accepting or rejecting it are not novelties for Suzanne.

Here is what is most fascinating about our Mother Superion when considering her unusual looks: she is simultaneously orthodox and unorthodox.

Fidelity, methods and intentions mix in her, pulling her in the direction of the church's rigidity or in that of her own individuality, torn between duty (or what is understood as duty) and what we could perhaps call faith... Real faith.

We needn't indicate how unorthodox it is for a nun to defy the orders of a higher-up, most of all when that higher-up is the Pope himself, and yet Suzanne does it; she confronts Duretti both indirectly, while protecting Ava from Crimson (whom he had himself reintroduced in the OCS) and directly, openly questioning him about what at that point was assumed to be Adriel's bones, and, later, even questioning and criticising his way of dealing with the situation involving Adriel.

At the same time, with someone with this image of hers, so reminiscent of the Orthodox, these were the most orthodox actions she could possibly take, distancing herself from Duretti, thinking for herself, splitting from him just as the two churches have done.

Yet there is still more to examine.

It is already quite unorthodox to picture a member of the Catholic church — she being a sister warrior notwithstanding, with all the unconventionality that entails — wanting to acquire a "more modern approach" to something, but it is more so when we consider that this touch of "modernity" in Suzanne arguably comes from the alliance forged with Jillian Salvius and the technology she brings — the very same Jillian who served as antagonist to Duretti and the church, to whom Mother Superion is bound, in season one.

Still, a certain orthodoxy permeates this unorthodox, almost blasphemous choice.

This is because what directs Suzanne, what guides her after she has broken free of her spiritual, intellectual, emotional, symbolic imprisonment is what can only be called her correct belief: her devotion to her girls.

Suzanne's "orthodoxy" has little to do with theology. The issues of transcendence and god are not in question for her, not that we've seen (if Camila mentions a slight concern given the events of season two); the crux of the matter for her is, to again borrow Sylvia's own words, the "root" of religion, etymologically speaking — religion, "religare", the idea of tying together, fastening, binding... This tie which defines her "correct belief", her "religion", is the one with the other members of the OCS.

As much as the trauma of killing a mother might have pushed Suzanne into the stable, predictable place offered by "order", by a severe structure such as that of the church, necessarily stifling that murderous sin of pride lurking within her troubled breast, there is only so much anyone can bear to bury within oneself. The cage of penance is all too likely to end a tomb and one's genuine self must break through eventually so that life isn't brought to an end while the heart yet continues to beat — Mary provided the key for Suzanne to free herself of this fate.

Duretti is not the church, he is not a woman and he is certainly not directed by selflessness, on the contrary, and all of this runs counter to her "correct belief" of, as Mary knows too well, caring too much about the other nuns.

After this truth is expressed and accepted, it is never again a secret and we are witnesses to how profoundly Mother Superion is moved by what affects her sisters, be it in the loss of Mary herself, that of the countless women slaughtered during the global attack on the OCS, or even in quieter moments such as the ones shared with Ava or when learning Camila and Yasmine are still alive after a failed incursion. As much as a certain stoicism remains about her, feelings do find their way outward much more easily.

It is also in the name of those very same sisters that she so vehemently punctuates her participation in Duretti's bloody conclave.

Again, Suzanne proves to be both orthodox and unorthodox at once, for it is highly unorthodox for a woman to speak thus (as highlighted by the Archbishop of Canterbury), but it is also the most orthodox course of action for her to take in respecting and honouring her own correct belief — remaining true to her convictions, devoted to her sisters, those who are now around her, not above or below her. This is what I (and, once more, the very actress that breathes life into the character) have elsewhere called a relationship of horizontality.

Curiously enough, at the conclave, Mother Superion is placed right beside the one Orthodox bishop present at the meeting.

The camera avoids showing them side by side, perhaps to equally avoid the recognition of how alike their clothing is, but it is notable that they should be close: here are representatives of autonomous churches, almost solidifying how much Suzanne stands for what is a faith all in itself.

And perhaps it is, in a way. For the proximity in vestment is, let us repeat, due to the similarity to the robes worn not by Orthodox nuns, but by priests — it is the masculine garb that sees itself reflected in her looks, that which is worn by men, that very sex holding real authority in either of the two real churches. A priest, a minister, a shepherd, one invested with the necessary knowledge to perform sacraments in the faith...

Even though her cane is no longer necessary following the miracle performed by Ava, we see Suzanne using it post-resurrection. This opens intriguing paths of inquiry, for, yes, the cane might serve as a signature weapon, effortlessly hidden in plain sight, but it might also hesitatingly draw a connection in light of the priest comparison... Perhaps, symbolically, the cane is as a discreet crosier in the hands of this apostle of "correct belief", now prepared to welcome others into the same family-faith of fellow women...

But this is egregious speculation and possibly tainted by the present author's own wish fulfilment, going well beyond the scope of this text; we must not pursue this line of investigation further, not without the aid of more concrete evidence to ground it.

Be it as it may, it is enough to conclude that Mother Superion presents a rich, delightful paradox in her successive "states" of orthodoxy and unorthodoxy, often at the same time; she who first appeared as a figure illustrative of the strictest order in her stern black might be one of the most subversive characters in a cast already marvellously distinguished by its psychological depth and how full of life it is.

[xxsycamore]

Hi Mo! For the Pride AU ficlets, may I request Theo x Shakespeare + angels and demons? Thank you!

That's a fantastic combination, Atelier, my goddd... You're welcome, hope you enjoy!!

[ 🌈 character x character or genderbent!character x mc requests OPEN 🌈 ]

For Different Universe, Same Love content creation challenge, hosted by @queengiuliettafirstlady and me.

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐒 & 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐀𝐔 ┅┅┅Theo x Shakespeare

𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 & 𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥

"You need to fight for your love."

In Vincent's head, the words flow right in to fill the void of indecisiveness; as if carried by a wind of reassurance, caressing the side of his face, or maybe patting him encouragely on the back. Is it advice that someone gave to him before? His brother, or maybe his closest friend, William?

Deep inside, he knows it's the right thing to do. Intuition shifts into action, and action dictates placing his hand on the handle; the door gapes and in that thin slit Vincent already sees the silhouette of the one he loves. As doomed as that love might turn out to be; I need to fight for it, the voice behind his shoulder reminds.

With the door closing behind the man, the room is empty once again. The freshly-disturbed airflow makes the curtains sway in the breeze, a nearby balcony forgotten open. Somebody's shadow projects on the curtains with noone around to witness, pushing off the nearby wall; a pair of wings spreading on its back.

Like the Merry Devil of Edmonton, a grin spreads on the man's face as his short flight to the rooftop is over, and his bat-like wings fold again to his body elegantly. Although he has enough reason to wear the smile on his face out of celebration alone, it's more of a greeting extended to the one standing on the other end of the roof.

Shakespeare has never seen an angel gather such a thick negative aura around him. He decides against wasting his hellos for the brunette, as he's busy directing his attention towards the scene taking place in the mansion's garden. Eyes following each movement of his brother as he approaches that girl, determination in his every step. Interfering would be difficult, Theodorus must be knowing that all too well.

Shakespeare approaches, the heavy heels of his demon form's attire announcing noisily his every step; like a warning signal to the angel that Shakespeare cares little of. Anything for watching from the first row.

Hands balling into fists, Theodorus turns around and throws himself at the demon; making him hiss with the electric sparks of the two powers coliding. It's not enough to send him off balance, but he does back away for the time being.

"Stay away from my brother, you vile creature."

"O dearest Theodorus. Your brother is but a lost soul, needing guidance. Thee shouldst thank me. Listening to me makes him so, so much happier."

Happier than when he's listening to you. Happier than when he chooses to stay protected from those difficult emotions.

"You don't want his happiness. You're a twisted son of a bitch who likes the suffering of others."

"My, such words in the dictionary of a creature of the heavens. But truly; if you were an angel like any other, your words would have taken a much stronger hold on poor Vincent."

Blooming like the ugly flower of divine imperfection, Theodorus accepts himself as the brute that will use violence in their conflict.

Shakespare's slender figure swiftly dodges the angel's attacks, his fast movements making him undistinguishable from the dark coat of the surrounding night. He lands crouching behind Theodorus, waving his thin demon tail at him as if he's an angered bull ready to strike at him horns-first. Angels are not supposed to have those, metaphorical or otherwise.

"What's your goal? To see him suffer?"

Shakespeare rises to full heigh again, having not landed a single attack of his own yet. His good eye flashes bright purple, and in the next moment, Theodorus finds himself chained by thorny ropes closing around his body. All struggles proving futile, his lack of angelic power a punishment he deserved for wasting his blessings on unholy words and unholy acts.

"When Vincent suffers, he is able to create great things, Theodorus. Masterpieces. Thou alone shouldst know that best."

Mockingly collecting the brunette's chin, scrapping a long black-painted nail against the skin, Shakespeare gazes into those hate-filled ocean eyes.

"But I'll do share that watching the play dear Vincent puts on for me is not enough; there's nothing sating my hunger like making an angel suffer. My goal is you, Theodorus. I've always, always wanted to see that twisted look on your face. To dirty you. To make those filthy angel wings fall from your back. You'll love being a demon, you're one at soul."

With the thorny ropes cutting into his wings, snow-white feathers make their final dance around Theodorus and land at his feet. The eyes of the demon above him are enchanting; both the one that shines and the one that stays in shadow. The rising emotion inside of him begs him to embrace it; it's the instinct of claiming your true form.

Right now, Vincent would be confessing his love to that girl who came to the mansion, bringing chaos with her. All he tried to do was to protect Vincent from the dangers surrounding him, from the pain of heartbreak that would be too much for his heart.

And to what fate would he lead his dear brother, if he changes his halo for a demon's horns?

"Accept me, Theodorus. Kiss my sin-coated lips. The faster you kill the angelic in you, the less it would hurt."

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran   @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @devonares @galaxyprison @sadshaxk @starshards26 @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @keen19thcenturygoatsstudent @lordsister @ikemen-banshou   @themysticalbeing @canaria-blackwell @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @aquagirl1978 ​ @ikemenlover24 @violettduchess @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @rhodoliteschaos Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

[sweetreadsict]

Catalogue Updates and Store News

It's been an exciting time at the store this last month! Between dramatically expanding our catalog, publishing our first in-house book, and going to pop up events, there's been a lot going on!

Publishing Emptied Spaces

We received and shipped nearly three hundred copies of the Emptied Spaces anthology this weekend! I'm really proud of it turned out, and am really looking forward to folks posting about receiving it later in the week. Hopefully it's just the start of future small-print runs from the shop ^^

Confluence Pre-Orders

Confluence is coming up on its release date! From one of our favorite authors, Dr. Bakkalian has done an amazing job of bringing one of her older story ideas to the printed page. It can best be summed up as sword trans lesbians in alt-present Japan fighting against mega-corporations. We're also offering a limited number of signed copies during the pre-order period!

New Titles Round-Up

We've more than doubled our catalogue over the last three weeks, going from twenty ish titles to nearly sixty, including adding several additions to our youth collection! Below are two picks from each of our major book categories to check out ^^

Manga and Comic Titles

A fantastic start to a series of books exploring sapphic sexuality and all the joys and troubles that can come with it. > The Bride Was a Boy: A very cute book about a trans woman's experience with marriage.

BIPOC Titles

A comprehensive look both at the history and present day Indigenous two-spirit culture. > Love After the End: An anthology of Indigenous queer and 2S stories, primarily focused on science-fiction stories.

Fantasy

A recent release from one of our favorite publishers, Inflicted is a mini cross-genre anthology dealing with trauma and healing. > So This is Ever After: An Arthurian-inspired tale about two boys slowly falling for each other while they try to fulfill a magical curse.

Science Fiction

A very esoteric story about the collapse of capitalism and dealing with it as a trans woman in the post-cyberpunk future. > Otherside Picnic 1: The store had previously carried the omnibus volumes of Otherside Picnic, but we've now begun carrying the manga as well! Two lesbians shoot weird inter-dimensional demons and bond in very pretty environments.

Youth Fiction & Nonfiction

A book geared towards a middle-school audience, following the story of a trans girl trying to figure out how to come out at school. > The Young Activist's Dictionary of Social Justice: A book geared towards late elementary schoolers and up, it provides easy to understand and illustrated definitions to social justice concepts that may otherwise be difficult to explain to a younger audience.

So What's This About?

If you made it to the end of this and this was a blazed post for you, congrats and thanks! We're a queer bookstore in Wichita KS that does primarily online and popup-event sales at the moment. If any of these books peaked your interest, or if you're interested in checking out the rest of our catalogue, we've begun running a promotion for free shipping on orders over $50 through the end of the year ^^

[where-dreamers-go]

Reading and rambling: The Fork, the Witch, and the Worm

(Tales from Alagaësia VOLUME 1: ERAGON)

~~~

PART ONE: THE FORK

II. A Fork in the Road

~~~

.... Where the blazes is this?

WHO'S point of view is this??

AND WHY do I feel like it's passed their curfew???

Umm. Essie, sweetie, should you be home? I feel like you're a child. Where were you and is it late?

Wharves. Uh. I need the dictionary again.

Is this a winter-y place by the sea or waterway? Girl, hurry up and go home.

Great, I'm still thinking about getting Eragon more protein rich foods and now there's this one!

"I see. Does that make her important?"

Essie shook her head. "It makes her think she's important."

Oooh. We're getting the tea!!! And this "unknown" man has an excellent vocabulary. Uh-huh. I know who you are, pal. "Tornac" ... nice name. 👀🧐

"Essie Siglingsdaughter."

*closes book*

"Who named your mother??"

... All this children drama is intense. Like: been there with dealing with 'miss all-that's'. Do you need help, sweetie?

"Then maybe they weren't really your friends."

Speak the truth! 👏 Give her a head start in learning that. Just because you're social with someone, even for years, it doesn't mean their a friend.

A snort escaped Tornac. "If you don't count being shot at by arrows, then yes."

A young girl who has her sights set high. You know, Beor Mountains high. It's nice to see humans saying something positive about the dwarves and not watching the elves from a distance as if they were wise, mysterious, rude, hunters. Anyway...

"That . . . is a very impressive scar. You should be proud of it." And --> "Because a scar means you survived."

Love it. Love yourself!

"... the big oaf."

A new scar for Tornac from a friend? Hmmm.

"A long, long way from here."

Okay, now with the war and battles over with, I'm curious as to where other people live. Because the only ones native to Alagaësia are dragons and dwarves, right? So what are other human cultures like? Have they traded with other dwarves? Are there advancements in the far north? Do they have eye glasses?

Also, can we just appreciate "Tornac" just being truthful and leveling with Essie on a person to person level?? Trying to bestow wisdom.

And first hand learning apparently if Essie continues to watch everything.

"A whole field scattered with stones."

"Black and burnt?"

"As if seared by fire, but with no sign of flame or smoke."

Hello, mystery. And they smell really really bad...

"... Hand over the rest of your gold, or the youngling here will pay with blood."

Ooooh. Things should get interesting. It's building the tension.

Hold on a minute, folks, we have a development.

Tornac used magic, but it didn't work because all these smelly and armed guys have charmed necklaces. Who's witch-woman Bachel? And how come they don't call it magic?? Ooooh. Different places, different names, different beliefs.

Anyway...

And then he spoke a Word, and such a word it was.

Oooooooh!!! Snap, here we go!

Oh, guess they're under Nasuada's magic laws too. Thanks for clarification, Essie.

Uhhh. The Word didn't change anything. This is a disturbing sign. Yup yup.

*reading fight scene be right back*

"You do not know what you seek, Wanderer. You're moon-addled and nose-blind. The sleeper stirs, and you and me--we're all ants waiting to be crushed."

I feel like this is important along with where the nasty stone is from.

Uh, who are "The Dreamers" and why do I feel like there's a scary plot hidden.

Essie, darling, this is your first step into a wider world. Use the fork well and learn much more.

MISTER STABBY!!!! All the love to Essie, goodness.

. . . Murtagh lifted his head and took a deep breath of night air.

Murtagh, you softie.

Always more mysteries . . .

That's what I'm saying! Let's get down to business~

So again he wondered if perhaps the time had come to turn and face his past.

Someone was watching The Lion King.

Yeah! Go find the witch-woman Bachel and be careful.

Oh my goodness. What a fascinating chapter. I hope we will get an update on Essie in the future. That would be neat. I mean, why would we go from the dragons showing Eragon the world to a complete different point of view.

Was there another purpose for such a view or just because she was closest to Murtagh at that point?

Hmmm

[wednesday-appreciation-blog]

Wednesday x Enid request! Wednesday breaks her foot. In between giving Wednesday piggyback rides and carrying her books to class, Enid tries to convince Wednesday to let her decorate her cast.

summary: in which wednesday gets injured and enid takes care of her.

cw: nothing, i think. let me know if i should add something.

an: this was so much fun to write! it's pure fluff

i suck at titles, so i might change this one later on

the book wednesday reads is circe by madeline miller (indeed, the author of the song of achilles). it's an amazing story, pls read it if you can!

Wednesday and her Goth Persona

"You shouldn't do this," Wednesday grumbled, her head resting on Enid's back.

"Don't care!" laughed Enid cheerfully, adjusting the smaller girl on her back carefully. "The doctor said you need to rest, and I'm here to make sure you do."

Wednesday didn't reply, burying her face in Enid's neck to avoid making eye contact with anyone as they passed through the corridors of Nevermore. Of course, she didn't care what anyone else thought of her. But appearances needed to be maintained, even with a broken foot. It wouldn't do for the holy terror of the school to be seen going on piggyback from class to class. What respectable Hyde would be scared of her?

"Hey, by the way..." Enid began, thoughtfully. "Did you look at the pictures I sent you? You know, the ones about ideas for doodling on casts."

Wednesday sighed. "I didn't deem them worthwhile of my attention."

"Wednesday! How am I supposed to know what you want me to draw?"

"I will say this once more only," Wednesday warned. "You are not decorating my cast with art from Pinterest. It sounds ridiculous."

"It's not! I'll even do it to fit your goth persona." Enid promised.

"Do you even know what a persona is?" Wednesday complained as she slid off Enid's back as she came to a stop outside Miss Thornhill's greenhouse.

Enid giggled. "Of course not! I got it from you." She handed Wednesday her bag and her crutches. She was a lot stronger than she looked, and was able to carry all of Wednesday's things as well as her own.

"You are exhausting and inexhaustible." Wednesday glared at her girlfriend. Her wonderful, caring, loving girlfriend.

Enid lowered her head to kiss Wednesday's forehead. "I'll pick you up after class, okay? Don't do anything stupid, like break your other foot or something."

"As if," Wednesday scoffed and walked into the classroom.

The blonde shook her head in amusement, before racing to her next class.

~~~

Enid exhaled through her nose, burying deeper into the blankets. "We should go to sleep..." she mumbled.

"If you wish." Wednesday replied. They were both curled up on Enid's colourful bed, covered in blankets and stuffed animals, Wednesday's foot propped up on some pillows. Enid was scrolling through her phone and Wednesday was intensely reading a book called Circe.

"I'm not sleepy, though."

"Then don't sleep."

Enid got up energetically, disturbing all the stuffed animals on the bed. "Wait! Can I draw on your cast? Pretty please with a cherry on top?"

Wednesday would have said no. But she was tired, and anything seemed plausible at that moment. "Fine. But only in black and white."

"Yeah, yeah, your goth persona and all that." Enid giggled, searching for her permanent markers.

The dark haired girl rolled her eyes. "It is not a persona. I really should give you a dictionary for your birthday."

"That's what Google is for!"

Half an hour later, Wednesday had finished her book and was now trying to see what Enid had written on her cast.

True to Wednesday's request, the blonde had only decorated it in black. It was an intricate pattern of lace with little words hidden in between the lines.

"Its beauty will be celebrated for the next five weeks." Wednesday commented seriously. "What did you write on the sole?"

Enid grinned at her girlfriend. "You'll find out when you take the cast off."

"Or I can just use a mirror."

"Don't you dare!" Enid mock-threateningly pointed her clawed finger at Wednesday.

And that was how, five weeks later, Wednesday discovered the loving message written one her bandages, and blushed for the first time in her life.

This foot belongs to the love of my life. XXX Enid

PS. I finally know what a persona is!

[mikuni14]

Laws of Attraction Ep 2

I bet, that in the dictionary next to the definition of the word "a little shit" there is a photo of Charn as an example 😀 And that an exasperated Tinn put it there 😆

LoA is an amazing series. A little girl died, there's a despair, there's a fucked up situation in the senator's family, there's the obviously twisted and traumatized kid, as is Charn... ...and in the same series I laugh watching Charn and Tinn like they’re in a romantic comedy????? Like??????

Jam and Film are great as actors. They play completely different characters than in To Sir, With Love, also in LoA they show a whole range of different emotions, and Film actually plays two characters: Charn before his "transformation" and the current Charn. I also want to point out something: many actors who play "psychopaths" choose to show this “type” through an unnerving and creepy smile. But it’s trcky and few succeed, and their characters are more funny instead of disturbing. Film is one of those whose smile IS unnerving. Why? Because Film has a whole set of smiles for every occasion (and lets not forget about his smiles before his "transformation"), so we as viewers know which of his smile is just a smile and which should set us on fire edge 😉 Film and Jam have great chemistry, they play perfectly together, watching them together on screen is pure pleasure. Good dialogue, genuinely funny scenes, and the attraction between the characters they play, visible from space, also help.

What I also like about Tinn and Charn, or maybe I’m wrong reading it that way, is that BOTH are clearly gay and BOTH know it from the beginning. By the time Charn "came out" as the senator's lawyer, the two were on their way to the relationship they BOTH wanted. Their MUTUAL UNDERSTANDING of who they are and what they feel comes up all the time (in conversations, in grandma's comments lol), because they both treat their orientation as obvious. I think.

(I died when Charn was giddy and excitedly waiting for his wounds to be tended to as if he had it in his mind that he was about to attend one of the most important BL tropes 🥳....when Tinn wanted to take him to the hospital, he was like, noooo, we were about to have a BL moment! If this continues like this, LoA will finish me off before it's over.)

Another fantastic thing: the show has great female characters. Rose immediately gave me a serious Miss. Fisher vibes, but otherwise any female character is just so cool.

The senator's son is acting crazy, but also... logical? Even in very serious psychological series, it’s very rare to see such an approach to a character like "the spoiled and abused son of someone rich and powerful." His monologue about what he feels and what he doesn't feel is something I certainly wouldn't expect from Thai BL. I wonder which way it will go. But since he's been allowed to have a scene like that, and he's been allowed to have a subordinate who is probably in love with him, or at least cares about him deeply, it seems to me hat the kid didn't actually kill the girl at all 🤔

I want to say straight away that I DON'T WANT Charn to go back to his good old self, I WANT him to stay as he is and for Tinn to be with him because he ACCEPT him as he is. In the same way, I don't want Tanthai to undergo some inner transformation and become "good". I just want of a drama where someone is fucked up and still accepted like Hannibal and Seo Moon Jo.

Laws of Attraction is awesome. I enjoy watching it, I have fun, I love the main characters, I laugh a lot watching it, I appreciate the serious scenes that shed more light on the mystery with each episode, but also complicate the story. This is it people. This is it!

[ashtrayfloors]

Spell for the Manufacture & Use of a Magic Carpet

When the last commuter trains etch black signatures of departure over tracks and subways glide untroubled through quiet tunnels, find an obscure girl. Let her weave a carpet of white & new wool, the best wool

of the Garment District. Obtain a wand from the Armenian in the hour of the sun when the moon is full & in Capricorn. Go to a park or a rooftop where you'll suffer no disturbance. Spread your carpet facing East & West,

& having drawn a circle to enclose it, hold your wand in the air. Name backward the chain of names from each current of the past into whatever crests foamless toward the future. Invoke the faces abandoned in cloakrooms

of childhood, summoning each discarded voice. Thank each panicked corridor & lucid clinic doorway, blessing the hands that ministered to you for they have carried you to this wild incompletion. Remember them,

shed them in the East & North, to the South & West, raising in turn each of the carpet's corners. Go home. Fold your carpet until you need it. Order your house & remove each dooryard stone.

Wait for a night of full or new moon when open windows free the sleepers' heated breath. On a roof where you'll risk no harm, write with a feather, on a strip of azure parchment, those characters found on page three hundred and seven

in the Dictionary of Angels. Hold the wand in your left hand, the parchment in your right, recite the arcana of angels for each precinct. Thank whatever god you understand, whatever buoys you past

each harbored absence. Ask then to discover the secret thing you seek, gazing out always over the diners & arcades to the cities of New Jersey rising white, small beyond the Palisades.

—Lynda Hull, from Ghost Money

[namethat-i-oughttohavetoldyou]

Swamped

I liveeee!!! And here is my fic entry for the Jellicle summer event! This was (supposed to be) just a quick in-between thing; I’m still working on the requests, don’t worry. @falasta​ I’m sorry you’re not having a good day, so I thought I’d being brazen and tag you to maybe cheer you up? ♥♥ As always, all my love to all who read/like/reblog, and enjoy!

“Where are we going?!”

“Didn’t you ask that already?”

“Yes! I mean. Um. Are we there yet?”

Munkustrap’s gentle huff of laughter disturbed the cool, damp afternoon air, dew drops catching in his whiskers and making his silver pelt shimmer.

“Have you heard of the saying ‘the journey is the reward’, Etcetera?”

The sand-coloured kitten shook her head, scrunching her face in confusion. “What‘s that supposed to mean?”

“Sometimes it’s not necessary to arrive somewhere. I brought you with me to enjoy this walk. A hike, as the humans call it. A little adventure, if you so will.”

Five pairs of small ears perked up at those words.

“An adventure!” Tumblebrutus squealed, and Pouncival stayed true to his name and pounced at Munkustrap’s left hind leg, triangular tail quivering with glee.

“So Skimble took us on the train with him so we can hike around in the woods?” Electra marvelled. What an expenditure! (Jemima had read that word to her from Jennyanydots’ dictionary, and they both thought it sounded very mature.)

“I suppose we could have hiked at home just as well,” Munkustrap admitted, awkwardly waddling with a certain patched kitten still attached to his hind leg. “But this is an experience neither Skimble nor I wanted to deprive you of.”

“It’s like a summer camp!” Jemima crowed happily; Demeter’s little human girl had explained the concept to her in all of its details.

“Exactly,” Munkustrap said, even though nobody had ever explained the concept to him, for that matter. “We’re the earliest group to go, Skimble’s group will arrive later. We shall scout out the safest way to travel, what do you think?”

His words were met with mews of approval and pride. Jellicle cats were quite territorial, after all, so securing a perimeter for others was a valued skill.

With their fur fluffed against the cool air, the kittens did their best in showing off their talents in this unfamiliar environment.

Electra found that climbing onto forest trees was a lot harder than it looked; there were so many strange insects hiding in twigs and leaves and under pieces of bark that she was constantly distracted.

Pouncival and Tumblebrutus agreed to become forest cats from now on, because the soft mossy ground was so pleasant to land on when flipping and jumping around.

Jemima did not want to become a forest cat when they asked, because it was so hard to see the moon with all the trees. Etcetera tried to convince her by showing her a few fireflies that had woken up a little too early, but Jemima didn’t relent.

“We’ll come and visit you four once a month,” Munkustrap said eventually, sighing dramatically and playfully nudging Jemima’s flank with his tail. “We can bring them some cream, what do you think? If we don’t end up eating it all on the way here, of course.”

Jemima guffawed, and the other kittens quickly gave up their plans of moving into the woods.

A life without cream? Unimaginable!

The cloud of mosquitos angrily buzzing up when Tumblebrutus tumbled into a bush should have notified them of what was coming, but Munkustrap had to shamefully admit that it had been a while since he had entered a proper forest – he was a city cat through and through.

Shortly after, the floor began to grow soft and muddy.

With every step, their paws seemed to sink more into the ground, releasing with a wet smack. At first, the kittens laughed about the sounds and the feeling alike, jumping around and pushing each other over, but after awhile it became tiring, and their pelts were uncomfortably damp.

The further they walked, the more it felt as if they were wading through syrup.

First Jemima climbed onto Munkustrap’s back to be carried, then Etcetera, and soon the silver tabby had become a kitten taxi, coming to a halt ever so often to test the mossy ground with a paw, trying to find a way out of the boggy area they had found themselves in.

“Can some of you tell me what you saw when the ground started to go soft?” Munkustrap asked his tired cargo in an attempt to distract them.

“A forest,” Etcetera deadpanned.

“I saw a tree,” Tumblebrutus added. “It looked like a spiral, as if it was growing around another tree that isn’t there anymore.”

“Very good. Remember that tree, it will be a marker for the others, so they won’t become stuck here as well.”

“But we aren’t stuck,” Pouncival argued, pawing at one of Munkustrap’s ears.

“That’s true,” Munkustrap said, even though he sank in almost to his elbows and knees now with every step. “We will make sure they stay away, anyway. This is not really what I’d call an enjoyable hike.”

Just as he had ended his sentence, it was as if his paws broke through some kind of spongy floor, and in the next second his head and his back, including his precious cargo, were the only things not submerged in cold, muddy water.

“Are we going swimming?”

Munkustrap spluttered.

The kittens jumped as the severity of their situation dawned on them.

“Do you see that branch over there?” Munkustrap asked with patient urgency as soon as he had spit out a mouthful of water. “I want you to jump on it. Can you do that?”

The kittens nodded, fearful but brave.

Pouncival went first, then Electra, who launched herself off Munkustrap’s head, making his face hit the water’s surface once again.

“Phrrlphrt.”

“Sorry!”

“Don’t worry. Tumblebrutus, you’re next.”

Tumblebrutus landed safely, adding a front walkover as if by accident. His dexterity lessons were really paying off.

Etcetera followed, almost falling off the branch when she bumped against Electra, who was readying herself to catch Jemima in case she didn’t make the jump, having the shortest legs of them all.

Jemima took a run up from the hind end of Munkustrap’s back, also using Munkustrap’s head as launching pad, but this time he was prepared. The kittens on the branch caught her by the forelegs, bodily pulling her onto the branch next to them as soon as she was in reach.

“Well done!” Munkustrap called, voice ringing with pride and a big grin splitting his face.

Five triangular tails rose high in reply, bashful and proud giggling filling the cool air for a long moment.

Then the still existing problem at hand quickly dispelled their mirth.

“Are you going to drown?” Tumblebrutus asked worriedly, eyeing the mud splattered up to Munkustrap’s ears.

“No, I am quite buoyant, as you can see,” Munkustrap reassured him with a wink, trying to lift his head and find more stable ground.

The only thing that came close was a sturdy looking tree stump just a hair’s breadth away, but try as he might, he couldn’t find anything solid to stand on, and swimming was just as impossible.

Sinking was not something he had to worry about since everything that fell into bog water was indeed quite buoyant, but if he didn’t manage to get out by nightfall, he would probably freeze to death. Already the cold water made his hind legs tingle.

“Jemima, Etcetera, Pouncival, I have an important task for the three of you. I want you to find a safe path to solid ground. I think it’s best if you climb along branches and anything else that you can find, as long as you don’t try to walk on the ground without testing it first. Can you do that?”

The three kittens nodded mutely, wide-eyed and quivering with excitement as well as well-managed fear. They began to balance along the length of the branch, claws out, bellies brushing the wood and tails upward in the air to balance.

Electra and Tumblebrutus stayed, waiting for instructions.

“I am going to try and make it to that tree stump over here and I might need some help. May I ask that of you? I know this is an uncomfortable situation.”

“We can do that,” Electra decided, ears pulled back and voice shaking, but eyes alight with determination. Tumblebrutus nodded quickly, clawing at a twig and purring in small spurts to calm himself down.

Munkustrap made a mental note to give them all of his salmon paste as reward as soon as they were back with the others, then he set his eyes on the tree stump and experimentally kicked his hind legs.

Other than a few glugging sounds nothing much happened, so he kicked with a little more force, pedalling his front paws as well to try and lift himself out of the water enough to reach the edge of the stump.

The water seemed to cling to his fur like molasses, and only seconds later he was a bit out of breath from exertion. But there was no time to waste; Skimble and the others were surely waiting for them already, and what if they got stuck as well while trying to search for them?

He kept kicking.  

Meanwhile, the other half of their little group had travelled relatively far, only using branches that they were certain would carry their silver protector, and more and more bushels of grass crossed their path. At last, they couldn’t see any more treacherous puddles, so they searched for a branch close to the floor for a test. Etcetera volunteered. She buried her claws so deeply into the branch that it almost hurt, then she slowly let herself dangle off until her back paws touched the ground.

Pouncival and Jemima, crouched low next to each front paw in case they had to pull her up, turned their ears into her direction.

“How’s it looking?”

“Feels stable,” Etcetera reported enthusiastically, trying to push against the ground and releasing a sigh of relief when it didn’t give in under her paws. She jumped on her hind legs, then stomped, trying to determine if it would carry an adult cat.

She let go of the branch, trampling back and forth, then Pouncival climbed down and on her back, and Jemima jumped on top.

When the ground still stayed nice and solid, they bumped heads and squeaked with joy and pride, taking care to look for markers and scrambling back onto the branch to return to the others.

With an unappetizing smacking sound, one front paw came free. Munkustrap breathed a short sigh of relief, suppressing the reflex to brace himself on the swampy ground and kicked his back legs as fast as he could to avoid overbalancing.

“You did it!” Electra cheered, and Tumblebrutus clapped.

Munkustrap smiled into their general direction, focusing on kicking his tired legs and reaching for the tree stump. But even though his forelegs were exceptionally long, it was not long enough. No matter how hard he kicked and how far he reached, he kept falling just short of catching it with an unsheathed claw.

Tumblebrutus leapt onto the sought-after tree stump and, without a word, leant over the edge, worming himself under Munkustrap’s big paw. Electra followed shortly after, taking hold of Tumblebrutus’ tail with her teeth and burying her own claws in the stump.

Grimacing, Munkustrap hooked his paw over the kitten, claws carefully sheathed, equal parts worried about hurting him, resigned about the fact that there was no other option and unimaginably proud of his creativity and courage.

Tumblebrutus scuttled a few tiny steps at a time to the side, dragging Munkustrap’s paw with him. It was slow-going, because Munkustrap’s arm was heavy with water and exhaustion and his shoulder really didn’t like the position it was being forced into, but slow-going still meant it was going, and that was the important part.

Just as an array of scampering paws announced the other three’s return, Munkustrap’s paw touched the stump. Tumblebrutus was pulled out by Electra and Munkustrap unsheathed his claws, burying them deeply in the damp wood and trilling a thank you to the two kittens.

“We found a way out,” Etcetera said happily, attention fully on Munkustrap starting to pull himself out of the bog with one arm.

The other paw came free quickly, but the wood started to splinter under Munkustrap’s claws and his lower body stayed stubbornly stuck.

“Munkustrap, are you tired?” Jemima asked worriedly, kneading the branch a little.

“Of course he is, he’s been in there forever!”

“But he carried Plato around for an entire afternoon once. And remember when Bustopher jumped into his arms when the mice played a prank on him?”

“That’s not the same.”

“Is too!”

(Munkustrap was a little too preoccupied with panting to interrupt them.)

“Nuh-uh.”

Pouncival crinkled his nose and lashed his tail. “Fine. But if he’s tired, then what are we gonna do? We can’t pull him out.”

Said tomcat had marginally gotten his breath back, and his ears wiggled with amusement. “Don’t worry, it might take some time, but I will get myself out. And then I’ll spend hours and hours to groom all the mud out of my coat.”

That produced a few laughs and playfully disgusted noises from the little group, and shortly after Munkustrap began to kick his hind legs again.

“We could sing for you,” Etcetera suddenly piped up, prancing back and forth on the branch. “Like Tugger does when Mister Mistoffelees does a biiiig magic trick. And like Tumble does before he starts his hard flips.”

“I don’t sing before my flips!” Tumblebrutus protested, but his twitching ears betrayed him.

“Yes you do, but very quietly.”

“Hmpf.”

“What are we gonna sing, then?” Pouncival asked quickly before they could break into a fight.

Etcetera scratched her ear with a back paw. “Hm. I don’t know…”

Electra began to hum a melody. The other kittens perked their ears, digging in their memory to remember the lyrics. They came up mostly blank.

“I can only remember the last verse,” Electra murmured, shyly ducking her head. “But it’s a nice song. I heard it on the radio with Victoria and we danced to it.”

Jemima chirped and motioned her to start singing, so she did.

“Move on up, and keep on wishing. Remember your dream is your only scheme, so keep on pushing. Take nothing less than the supreme best…“

Tumblebrutus bounced on the spot; he knew the song. He joined in.

„Do not obey rumours people say, ‘cause you can pass the test. Just move on up! To a greater day. With just a little faith, if you put your mind to it, you can surely do it!“

They repeated the line over and over since none of them could remember the rest of the song, and after two repetitions the other kittens joined in as well, creating a sweet impromptu polyphonic choir.

Munkustrap could feel his kicks grow more powerful, lifting the back end of his body a little more out of the muddy water, centimetre for centimetre.

Every Jellicle cat emanated their share of magic, some more showy than others. Take a few of them together with the same goal in mind, and they could sometimes achieve impossible things.

Evidently, five mud-splattered kittens singing a third of a soul song was more than enough to work wonders. Munkustrap was humbled to not only witness this casual magic, but to also be its recipient.

When the big silver tabby was close enough to the tree stump to brace his elbows on the edge, the kittens sang a little louder, sitting down on his front paws so he wouldn’t lose his grip.

And eventually, with a last wet slorrrp sound, Munkustrap’s bushy tail was freed from the bog, the normally soft fur matted and dripping muddy water. There was much grooming to be done, indeed.

Loud cheering rang through the woods when all four of his paws finally stood on the stump, and Munkustrap sang the single line of the song for them in turn, bursting with pride and the tips of his ears tingling from their little strain of magic. (If one had compared it with that of Mister Mistoffelees, it was not ‘impressive’ per se, but making things seem bigger than they were was one of Etcetera’s rather unique quirks.)

“I couldn’t be prouder of you all,” he told them as they made their way across the path the three youngest had ventured out, eventually relishing the solid mossy ground under their paws once more.

The kittens mewed with joy and pride, tails lifted so high that they almost walked on the very tips of their toes.

Certain that his cheeks would split if he smiled any harder, he nuzzled each kitten and touched his nose to theirs.

“Now we just need to find a way back.”

“I’ll lead the way this time,” Jemima said confidently, “I won’t sink so deeply if there are any more bogs, and you can pull me out, too.”

Munkustrap let her, walking closely behind, brushing against everyone who was close enough and being nuzzled affectionately in return.

Apparently, there was still some miracle-working magic left, because only a few steps behind the next tree stood Skimbleshanks, and Alonzo beside him.

“Why, fancy seeing you here!” Skimbleshanks greeted them cheerfully, his teasing grin slipping from his face when he saw their mud-splattered states. “What-”

“We got a bit turned around,” Munkustrap replied mildly, making the kittens giggle.

“You don’t say,” Alonzo said, voice as dry as desert sand and eyes on Munkustrap’s legs, which shook from exhaustion. “I take it we shouldn’t go back and talk a stern word with whatever mud monster attacked you?”

“Unless you would also like to spend a few hours removing bog water from your fur, I would advice against it.”

Skimbleshanks gaped, ears pulling back. “Bog water?!”

“Electra sang a song from the radio,” Etcetera added helpfully.

“Ah. Well, in any case, I have a thermos of tea waiting back at camp and you look like you are in dire need of it. Let’s leave the hiking for tomorrow, shall we? Maybe our species is not suited for such things,” Skimbleshanks joked, checking over each kitten and grooming the mud from their faces.

Alonzo pawed at the wet rag that pretended to be Munkustrap’s tail, grimacing in sympathy.

Munkustrap huffed a gentle laugh. “Oh, I’m definitely not suited for it. These five here, however, are the best hiking scouts you could wish for. I think you should at least take two of them whenever you go into the forest. For safety.”

The kittens’ chests swelled with pride. Skimbleshanks’ eyebrows wandered into the direction of his ears. Then a smile grew on his face, almost rivalling the one still present on Munkustrap’s.

“Now there’s a story that I just must hear. And that I will get to hear, I presume?”

Pouncival did not bother to draw it out, instead launching right into the juicy part, which resulted in an argument with Etcetera about appropriate plot pacing.

Jemima climbed on Munkustrap’s back and began to purr, tiny paws kneading the scruff of his neck, Alonzo walked beside him, gently bumping into him ever so often.

They made their way back to the camp, listening attentively to Pouncival and Etcetera talking over each other to tell of their adventure, adding a mud monster here and there for dramatic effect, and the moon rising over the trees seemed to be a lot bigger than it usually was.

I knowww, my Cats stories mostly play in the 20s/30s and Move on Up is from the 70s, but disregard that just this once XD Also I know that bog and swamp and all other synonyms are probably not synonyms at all, but I haven’t had the patience yet to look into that any further, forgive me djfksjkdf Also yeah, I did grow up next to a swamp, how did you know? ;) Hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading!

[brisugu]

Carapherneila

(S.Gojo x F!Reader x S.Geto)

Series Masterlist

Series Summary: Where she reminisce of the past. 

Chapter Title and summary : On the 3rd day--- “Time is a construct.”

Chapter: Twelve 

Warnings: Angst, Blood and Gore

Word count: 3,211

They say when you die, you will have everlasting peace. That you will ascend into the afterlife and meet those you've lost. You will live forever surrounded with warmth and be rejoiced.

That is what you like to think, to believe.

There was no warmth, no light...nothing when you died. You felt as if you were drowning. The feeling of being sucked backward was extremely slow. It clogged your lungs and flooded your senses. Memories of your life came in all at once. The guilt and the overwhelming feeling of abandoning your loved ones were a lot to take in. It wasn't long before the darkness and the coldness sparked a state of panic in you. With no escape, this blackness faded in and out, and you succumbed to this.

But, just as all hope was lost, someone or something pulled you out of your suffering.

You gasped as a stinging feeling spread throughout your body. Your eyesight went blurry as you tried to focus on your savior. You expected a slender body with snowy hair or a raven-haired boy with a ponytail. But your heart sunk when you realized your savior...was a monster. He resembled a demon with four arms and two faces. He had unique markings on his forehead, nose, cheeks, and torso.

He also had a second pair of eyes under his eyes, but they looked closed. A sudden chill went up your spine, and hair quickly stuck up from the back of your neck. You were afraid to blink, speak, or even breathe.

"Well, speak, little girl." It wasn't a request... it was a command. You attempted to move your lips, but your body betrayed you as no sound came out. There was a foreign coiling feeling in the pit of your stomach. It wasn't haunting... it was sinister. Something you couldn't explain, something you wished could've stayed dead. "I said-" he leaned down, and his disturbing face hovered over you. "Speak."

Your lips quivered, "am I dead?"

The monster smiled. "No, something much worse."

                                                                                _______________________________________________

Day 1

"Tell me again but keep it short and sweet."

"Sir, there is nothing sweet about this."

"You know what I mean, Satoru."

Gojo nodded before swallowing something hard down his throat as he hunched his shoulders back. "I-It happened so fast, and I couldn't even think." Yaga nodded and motioned for him. "She was losing so much blood a-and—"His mouth started to quiver, and his right leg began to bounce. He shifted his gaze to Shoko, asking her to continue for him, at least for your sake.

"And then I brought her here." Shoko interrupted. "Where she's stabilized but induced into a coma… w-we don't know when she'll wake up." It wasn't a lie. You were in a coma, but it was nothing that Shoko had ever seen. No heartbeat but curse energy still blossoming. It was a phenomenon—a confusing jigsaw puzzle. There was no explanation, no book or dictionary to answer your state. She lost sleep because of it, grew eyebags, and refused to eat in an attempt to solve this puzzle. Gojo was the one who looked after her—the one to pull her out of this state. He was the one who offered a shoulder to cry on. And in turn,  Shoko looked after Satoru. While Geto confided in his room, she was the one who comforted him. She knew the facade Gojo puts on to reassure everyone; he masks his feelings and pain to help others without helping himself. Shoko was the one to pull him out to the surface. She was another anchor he didn't know he had.

"Where's Suguru?" Yaga asked, pulling Shoko out of her thoughts. Gojo lowered his head and glanced at the empty seat to his left.

"Still in his room." It hurts seeing Geto like this. No communication, no contact. It's like he was treating them like a ghost. "Want me to get him?"

"No, let him be." Yaga sighed and turned away from his students, headed to the exit. "And another thing," he looked over his shoulder. He noticed the fatigue and miserable appearance of his students. He slowly removed his sunglasses from his face and frowned before saying, "It's not your fault."

                                                                              _____________________________________________

"I'm not going to ask you again..." You shivered as a shiver ran up your spine. "How did you get here?" You shook your head, and your lips began to quiver.

"I-I told you. I don't know how I got here," you swallowed a hard lump down your throat. "Please, just let me-"

In an instant, blood spat out from your mouth. You whimpered as a familiar coldness wrapped around you. Your eyes begged the monster for mercy, but how could there be when your heart rested on his palm? "You are very annoying." He glowered as your body sank to the ground. He then carelessly threw your heart behind him like a useless toy. He sucked his teeth and rolled his eyes. He lifted three fingers and silently counted down to one. Instantaneous, your body suddenly sprang to life as he was about to burn your body. His eye twitched, "how many times do I have to kill you before you go away?" He grabbed your neck and lifted you off the ground. You could feel the air being sucked from your lungs, and you vigorously tapped on his arm. He squeezed your neck so tightly that you felt like your head was about to pop off.

Eyes were bulging out from your pocket, and you stuck out your tongue in an attempt to allow air to enter your lungs.  

This was your nightmare... your hell.

Suddenly you felt a slight release from your neck that allowed you to breathe. You coughed at first before taking a deep breath. At first, you thought it was a ploy, and he would go back in torturing you at any given moment, but he didn't. The demon grinned. There were glimpses of his teeth that resembled a human. "Why is it that you are the only one who is alive?"

"What?"

"Fascinating, isn't it? I should've felt that some girl was siphoning my cursed energy."

"I-I don't understand. Does this mean you'll let me go?" The demon shook his head before laughing. The sounds rattled your ears and the burning feeling in the pit of your stomach intensified.

"Go?" He squeezed your neck, and fear made its way back to you again. "You stupid girl...you knew this would happen, didn't you?" He slightly shook you. "You knew you would come  here.  You knew what would happen." Tears began to stream down your face as you shook your head.

"I don't know-"

"You are as stupid as your ancestors... as my descendants." Your eyes widened. "Oh, don't act dumb with me, girl. You knew about this." he narrowed his gaze at you before releasing you from his hold.

When you fell to the ground, you couldn't muster up the strength to stand. You cupped your hand over your mouth and silently sobbed. The guilt of lying to your loved ones and yourself ate you apart. You couldn't face the truth. Slowly turning to your captor with eyes brimming with tears, you spat at him. "I won't do it! I'll never do-"

"You don't have a choice, my dear," one of his hands grabbed your face and pulled you close. The smell of rotten flesh burned your nostrils. "Now, I advise you to decide if you want to see your lover boys again." Your heart began to rise when he mentioned them. "But before we do that, I prefer you to call me by name." You gasped as his arm went through your chest. "Sukuna is just fine."

                                                                       ___________________________________________

Day 2

Gojo sacrificed an arm and a leg in attempting to make soba...it was Geto's favorite. He'd always devour it every time you cooked. His smile was the highlight by the end of it.

Gojo strolled the boy's dormitory carrying a hot bowl of soba in his hands. As he reached Geto's door, he took a breath and knocked. "Suguru." No response. Gojo tapped his foot in irregular beats, "I made you soba." No response again, and Gojo started to lose patience. He knocked again. This time it was louder. "Listen, Su, I almost burned down the kitchen, so I'm not letting this go to waste." Another round of silence. That's it. "On the count of three, if you don't open this door, then I have no choice but to force my way in." Gojo set the bowl down and moved it a couple of inches back. "One," he got in a fighting stance. "Two..." He concentrated on his curse technique. "Thr—"

"Satoru? what are you doing at my front door?" Gojo instantly turned around to find Geto standing next to him. His appearance appeared to be messy. With wrinkled clothes, messy hair, and red eyes, Geto lacked motivation. "Did you forget your room is next to mine again," he chuckled dryly.

Gojo chewed the inside of his cheek and shook his head. He kneeled to grab the hot bowl, and when he stood straight up, he pushed it against his friend's chest. "It's yours."

"I'm not hungry," he pushed it back and shoved Gojo slightly. "Do you mind? I'm tired." As he twisted the doorknob and stepped into his room, it didn't take long for Gojo to follow right behind him.

"How long since you have eaten, Suguru?" The raven-haired shrugged as he made his way toward the futon. When he sat down, his body shuddered as he recalled the many memories he made with you—the time when you patched up his wounds and many other things .

"Why does it matter to you?" He snapped. He didn't want to display any weakness or the fact he was hurting. He hated how Gojo looked at him with pity as if he was a dying pup. "Why are you here?"

"Why did you let me in?" Geto held his breath. Maybe it was an impulse to let Gojo in. Perhaps he consciously desired Gojo's help. Maybe he wanted him to be his moral compass—to fix him.

Geto exhaled and took the warm bowl from Gojo's hands.

"See! I knew you wanted it." Gojo exclaimed. That irritating voice perked Geto's ears. Although he would not admit it, he misses his friend's usual childish behavior. His annoying personality makes him wonder how he fell for the white-haired sorcerer. It was something that drew him in.

As Geto ate, he felt strands of his hair getting played with. He turned to find Gojo hyper-fixated on his raven hair. He rubbed them against his fingers, then watched as he twirled them around it. "Satoru?" He asked.

He didn't answer; he continued playing with his hair as if it was his prized possession— like something delicate but beautiful. "You should wash your hair." He finally said.

Geto frowned. "What?" Gojo removed the bowl from his hands and set it aside before taking Geto's hands. "C-can I wash your hair?" What has gotten into him?

"Satoru is-"

"Please." It wasn't a request nor a demand. It was... something else . "Let me help you," Geto felt his heart clench. For a moment, he was about to say yes. Say "yes" and allow Gojo to help him, help him take away his pain and misery. He needs the touch of a god, the one sent from heaven, the one who is the righteous one.

But the other side of Geto crept from the back of his mind.

Why would he need help? He doesn't need fucking pity from him. These thoughts were slowly plaguing him. Who is he to judge? Just because he is the strongest, he doesn't need to be a martyr and go around saving everyone. He doesn't need to be saved.

"It's fine," Geto forced a smile. "I don't need your help."

                                                                               ____________________________________________

You don't know if you are strong enough to face them again... you were going to be coward.

"Hey, brat! Have you chosen how you will serve me yet?" That voice rings your ears, and you turn in his direction.

Sukuna's malevolent shrine was as chilling as it appears in the history books. Skulls everywhere, which seems fitting for his character. You also later discovered that when you died, your consciousness had transported to his dominion expansion. "I have made my choice," you said monotonously.

"You poor thing," he slowly strolled towards you, and instantly your veins ran cold. Flashes of the horrific acts he committed against you flood your brain. You feared he would dismember you again or rip your heart out of your chest. "Such a shame for you to turn out like this," he smiled as he extended one of his arms to you.

"It's not like I had a choice."

"You should thank me. I'm saving your life."

"No, you're corrupting it," you clenched your fist before glaring at him. You were about to make a deal with the devil. You cautiously extend your forearm and grip his hand, your fist loosening as you do so. There was a warm feeling that washes over you.  This must be the binding vow; This is the feeling where you sell your soul. This wasn't a compromise. It was a sentence. "Don't make me hurt them, please."

He didn't answer; instead, he grinned. It was demonic and taunting; his forearm went straight through your chest, instantly blood pooled out of your mouth, and pain welcomed you. As he opened his mouth, you made out what he said before darkness consumed you. "See you on the other side."

                                                                                    ________________________________________

Day 3

Time is a construct, its merely an illusion.

It's perceived as a simple motion through space. For example, the past is simply our memories. The future is our expectations of what will happen. And a photograph is called "a snapshot in time." Time has stopped in the photo.

Time is not a thing.

For 36 hours, Satoru Gojo sat in a chair staring at a photo of you and him. Nothing was changing. The photograph was stilled. He remembered as if it was yesterday the moment he took the photo. He can still feel your smile; it haunts him, your smile, your laughs.

Time is nothing.

"Are you going to eat something," said Shoko. She was tending to you, making sure you were comfortable and safe. A few days ago, the incident with her medical utensils floating above you was a phenomenon. It was strange and eerie; it still delivers chills. Today everything was quiet; the only thing that remained the same was your heart. Still no heartbeat.

"I've already eaten," he said quietly. It wasn't a lie; he had eaten something, but it was only a bowl of miso soup and nothing else. "What about you?"

"I'm fine," she was on her notepad, writing something. She had not once looked up at Gojo the moment he entered the infirmary. She was either adjusting your pillows or scribbling down on her notepad.

"Shoko, you look like you haven't eaten in days," she scoffed at his accusations. "You haven't slept either. For three days, you were here." Shoko deeply exhaled out of her nose, paused, then looked up. Gojo immediately noticed her blood-shot eyes and messy appearance.

"At least I'm trying to bring her back," she snarled. "At least I'm trying to do something."

" I am doing something," Gojo frowned. "I'm trying to find answers."

"That is not enough!" She slammed her hands on the desk. Her lips began to quiver, and she quickly turned her face away before the tears started to pour in. "I-It's just," she sniffed before resuming."I always have the answers to everything, a-and I can't come up with an answer as to why she is like this." She stifled a sob and wiped her tears with her shoulder."E-Everything has been so hard lately, a-and I don't know what to do."

Gojo nodded before standing up from his seat and heading toward her. He approached her and slowly wrapped his arm around her as she turned slightly, allowing her face to be buried in his chest. "We can help each other out," Gojo whispered while Shoko sniffed. "I promise you we will get her back. And I never break a promise," He placed his under-chin on top of her head and squeezed her body a little. "In the meantime, let's go-."

Gojo froze, and for a moment, he felt Time had stopped. His blood began to run cold but then switched to warmness. A feeling of panic and comfort had overwhelmed him. And there was something familiar about this sensation.

Gojo's eyes widened, and he immediately let go of Shoko.

It all happened so fast. One moment you were lying on a table, and the next, you were sitting up, screaming. Gojo noticed terror etched across your face as if something spooked you or if you were having a nightmare... a terrible nightmare.

Your screams were blood-hurling, and it was piercing through his ears. You were shaking non-stop, and Gojo didn't hesitate to rush toward you."H-Hey, you're okay (y/n), you are okay." He grabbed you and hugged you by his side before turning to Shoko, whose mouth was parted but faced slightly relieved. "Get Senesi." She nodded and looked at you before darting out the door.  

You stopped screaming not long after, and he felt your hand against his forehand. "S-Satoru?"

"Yea," he didn't want to take his eyes off you. He wanted to make sure he wasn't hallucinating, and this was real. That You were real. But before you could answer, he heard gagging noises coming from your mouth, and you tapped his arm to allow yourself to bend over. "Shit," he quickly looked around for a bucket, and he found one under the medical table, and he instantly bent down and grabbed it before you could vomit. You began to as soon as he placed it under your lap. Gojo stroked your hair as you did so. He felt a sharp stinging from the corner of his hair and bit his lip to stop it from quivering. His nose began to burn from the scent of vomit, but he wouldn't care less. He doesn't care how suddenly you awoke, at least not yet. All he cares, all that matters is you.

"I'm sorry."

"Huh?" He heard you give out your last spit as he gently removed the bucket from your lap and placed it under the table.

"I said I'm sorry," he heard you choke before bursting into tears. Gojo began to wipe your tears; he pulled you close to bury your face into his chest and sobbed. He didn't care if his shirt got ruined from your tears or if it smelled as you continued to mutter your apologies.

"It's okay," he whispered. "Don't apologize."

"I'm sorry for the pain I caused you, to all of you."

"You are all that matters now," He started to caress your hair. "you're the only person that matters to me right now. You're safe now. Stop apologizing."

Gojo Satoru believed Time to be nothing, to be an enemy.

Now Time is his divinity.

[ladyjaja]

i made a box thats a rng script tht reads from a notecard .. the contents of the notecard is a transcription of a large chunk of me and lady cpu’s buzzword codex.. i use this rng tool to generate hacks and spells for upcoming vn “precious theatre!”

heres a bunch of hacks i generated tonight:

WARP ORANGE INTENTION TRANSFER

CLOVER SMARTBOARD PEDESTAL

PICTURE TEMPLE CUT FILM

COSMIC PRINCESS PLUSH DIRK

EMBLEM FUNCTION TUCAN YURI

MAGNETIC OVERCLOCK CROSS AVATAR

PELICAN GENDER RING

CYPRUS CIRCUIT BOARD

small queen nerd vampire

petal mountain webisode hole

girl sewer message district

sweet bodydata ribbon modify

cross symbol award twin

secretary cookie owl

temporary satellite palace

psychic moral tunnel

primitive backend quill bible

denpa princess princess spirit imitation

ROCK STAR TAPE VISION WEDDING TUTOR

naughty cheatcode bridge reaper

strong pudding

rock mod nemesis

student council sharpie jpg

pelican hpunch faceup

super movement needle actor

vibrator zapdos power-faith

hentai mega sewing diciple

dekbass knowledge crybaby

invisibility bomb slipper

shit religion ideal fruit post

rescue helper chocolate hack space

familiar/special storm

spirit momo x

frilly seagull church

nu crayon textbox

dark loveletter

painkiller rom mystic

harddrive power brother

amy rose punishment operating system

investigation: snowflake recovery guide

media practice moral chant!

complex tuna ritual-potion

summon bff

%slowburn

secretary camera ego

d-pad emerald ego

dekbass angel estrogen

murder million daughter loop

crime beta sewing mecha

!! scripted agent investigation email !!

!! frequency flunk project !!

sutro topaz dimension

!! meow emblem !!

student council desktop

3rd party recovery effect

yaoi society cloud

feral fanclub callcenter

time travel defense blueprint

cosmic elevator clown

chocolate vibrator intention

login mystic snowboard

!! rollcall repost !!

condition mp3

text tournament

gem maiden

vn tunnel

paw tea

slowburn idol

pacify mmd marble

glove? broken leek

probation reboot pencil case

fact check avatar

sexy elephant

cockroach dungeon

dungeon vaccine

processing twin cannabis

familiar dictionary record token

dual sculpture justice

sister class: strange

dissonance leek

garden lamb chibi

peer to peer mouse cell phone

hairclip design botfarm

psyduck million ancestor

tutu dark dissonance

construction paranoia snake

luxury cola

mage primitive

weird doujin eggman dashboard ceremony

!! targeted individual dizzy hypno idol !!

location controller

lament phenomena

permanent copy actress

sign up prize

sister user motion data

synthetic grape vehicle

tucan password trial

familiar lesbian

technique password

custard dungeon

mount murder

equal exception hentai

hope: lesbian space program gala

dual weird lament wink

permanent paintbrush

secretary wish picture

vn boost

fur alpha

friendship picture projection errand

diamond os

leak email

nvl palmtree diagnosis

mother frog hack

alpha mask roll call

perfect frozen reciever doll

sonic committee lunch

emerald rng blender

pray scarlette serpent

shop mammoth apophenia

president dragon teto

dashboard 5g poet

violin codex frill

silver non-network

codex technique theory

quit invisibility org

virtual bomb novel

!! studio alphabet doki !!

lucky app

satellite d-pad technique

repost water divide

interplanetary pretty pigeon

paranoia bodyguard

mango fasshion

fishing tunnel administrator

dragon gallery tiger

mega mantra crow

cylinder hud

bully doily melon cousin

cave yaoi special

royal project library

cpu charm palace

permanent rockstar hammer

disturbing breakfast

profile satan haha brother

dressup book advantage

organic message board alien

mayday stream manifest synthetic court justice

big crow theory snake font recovery

vacccine alien demonic intention chapter

hpunch hpunch turn virtual passion bgm trap

yaye strawberry / order pdf chain invisibility

[papirouge]

Infanticide: the crime of killing a child WITHIN A YEAR OF BIRTH. "cases of infanticide often involve extreme emotional disturbance" 2.a person who kills an infant, especially their own child. Dictionary definition of infanticide

The selective outrage of seething at baby girl (in the uterus) being aborted based on gender preference, and then downplaying abortion because infanticide (of born baby girls) exist (she literally said she was "mostly focused on the abandonment and infanticide of baby girls.") is retarded

Either you care about gender preference or you don't. You can't say "abortion isn't the issue" and then act offended at sex selective abortions. China one child policy did affect unborn babies so following the dictionary definition of infanticide you brought up (abortion is technically the murder of one's own offspring too), she was still excluding these sacrificed baby girls from the field of her "concerns", which proves how wack her standpoint was. Like wow her take is even worse that I assumed it was in the first place 🥴

[elilovesu]

Phase 03

“Is this love~?”

Your POV

Love.

According to the Oxford dictionary, love meant ‘an intense feeling of deep affection.’

According to my mom, love is unconditional. She told me that when you love someone, you love them at all costs. That it didn’t matter if that person had imperfections and flaws because that's what love is. You take them for who they are and it’s supposed to make you feel happy, warm, and safe inside.

And when I was younger-, hell even until a few weeks ago, that’s what I thought love was. I thought that love was an unwavering, solve-all word that overpowered anything that came in its way.

But I was foolish and naïve, always wearing rose-colored glasses.

Because that’s what I thought I had with him.

..............................................................

‘Wait, just to make sure, it’s the diner across the library right?’

‘Yup that’s the one. We’ll go there after studying a bit :)’

‘Look at you, trying to spend more and more time with me’

‘What can I say, I really like you, girl with beautiful name’

‘Ok down boy, down. I’ll be there, don’t worry

‘I can’t wait to see you..’

‘I can’t wait either

He’s amazing. You smiled to yourself as you turned off your phone. The boy you had met yesterday had ended your very flirtatious study session by asking you out on a date. 

His sweet but cocky personality and the way he always caught you off guard while studying, whether it be how he looked at you while you explained something or the small smile he showed when you got something confused had won you over.

His smile.

When he showed you that smile, you knew that you wanted him to be in your life, even if it was for a while.

..............................................................

“The first tell~”

As you were packing up after your study session, the boy across you caught you off guard.

“Hey, You look really beautiful today,” He said with a smile. You blushed as you let out a small chuckle.

“Thank you, you do too,” You said before you finished putting the last book inside your tote bag.

He looked at you with soft and gentle eyes before coming over to your side.

“Thank you, kid. Ready to go?” he asked as he took your hand into his.

Woah, he’s good at this. 

“Kid?” he asked again with an amused smile as he bent down to your eye level to try and catch your eyes. He laughed softly as he noticed that you were distracted by his hand that was intertwined with yours.

“Hm? Oh, um, yeah- yeah, we can go” you said with a bashful smile as you shifted your gaze back, to his eyes. 

“You’re cute kid,'' he said as he took his other hand that wasn’t in yours to lightly ruffle your hair. “Let's go.”

He’s really good at this.

An hour later, you found yourself immersed in a heated but playful conversation with the man.

“Listen hear  me out, sure, SpongeBob may be disturbing at times but it doesn't even hold a candle to Dora the explorer.”

“What are you talking about?” He asked as he let his head fall back in laughter. He then talked back with his argument.

“SpongeBob talks about him having literal Stockholm syndrome. I mean look at it this way, Mr. Crabs literally exploits all of his workers and SpongeBob still loves the job and literally goes insane if he doesn’t work for ONE day.” He argued as he cut up his steak.

“Ok, fair. But Dora has a slave monkey, so I think I win” you said with finality, as you sipped your drink.

“Yeah? And SpongeBob has a crab that has a sexual desire for money.”  He said and you fell into a fit of loud laughs. And of course, you choked on your drink. Of course, you did.

“Jesus, kid,” your date said in a rushed breath as he looked around in search of anyone looking at the two of you.

“I’m ok, I’m ok. Oh god, I can’t believe that just happened” you said as you let out a small chuckle.

“Yeah, Um, do you want to maybe pack up your food? We can go for a walk instead, I’m stuffed” he said as he dismissed your comment and hauled over a waiter to your table.

I’m not done though…. Was it that bad? Oh god, I'm ruining this.

“Yeah, sure. We can go for a walk,” you said with a forced smile.

..............................................................

“Nights like these, make me want to fall over and over again~”

“I’m so lucky to have you, kid.” He said as his hands on your waist tightened.

Slow dancing in his apartment living room has become your favorite pastime to do with him this past month. He always made you feel safe and warm when he waltzed you across his living room while listening to music.

“I’m so lucky to have you too babe. So fucking lucky,” you said before you kissed his nose lovingly. And as you swayed, to the music, you knew tha you had to let him know.

“You know before I met you, I used to think that loving meant a painful chase but now that you’re here with me, loving has become the easiest thing to do.”

 You said before you slowly looked into his eyes that were widened. You had to let him know,

“I’m in love with you.” 

His eyes softened and a small smile appeared on his face.

He leaned in and whispered,

“I love you too kid.”

Before, beautiful strangers only came to do me wrong. But now, my beautiful stranger made it safe for me to finally love again, just like my mom told me I would one day. Whole-heartedly and true.

..............................................................

“Didn’t know what he had when he had it~”

It was Sunday morning when you were sitting on the kitchen island in his shirt. The man to who the shirt belonged was across from you making breakfast which consisted of burnt toast and fried eggs.

I could get used to this.

You thought back to yesterday. You remembered how he was gentle with how he touched you and how he held you afterward. How he whispered words of love and adoration as you drifted off to sleep in his arms.

He’s the one. I know he is.

You walked up to him before wrapping your arms around his waist. You stood on your toes to press a kiss to his shoulder and looked past at the eggs he was making.

“I love you” you voiced your emotions, plain and simple. He turned around to hold you by your waist as well before kissing the tip of your nose.

“I love you too, kid. Ready to eat?” he asked before leaning down towards your lips.

You laughed softly before pressing your lips to his. And as he kissed you, all you could think of was how lucky you were to have found him. You had never met someone so loving and tender with you. Sure, he had his flaws and imperfections. But he made you fall in love with them as well. 

That's what love does to people, isn't it?

And as you broke off from your kiss, you hoped that he could somehow feel just how much you loved him.

“Are the eggs burning?” you asked suddenly as you remembered that the stove was still on.

“Oh fuck.” your boyfriend said, swiftly turning around in panic.

“It’s ok, the toast is burnt anyway, it’s a good pair.” You said in pure amusement as you laughed.

 “Kid stop laughing, the whole thing is burnt.”

“Hey, it’s ok, we can just make some more,” you said with a soft smile as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders to comfort him... He shrugged them off almost immediately.

“I spent the whole morning making this, kid.” he said as he looked at you. You noticed that his eyes held anger in them.

What the hell did I do?

“Yeah I know, I appreciate it, and I'm sorry that they burned babe, but it’s ok, I'll clean it up and we can just get something delivered” you said, hoping to alleviate his anger.

“You know what, you go ahead and do that. I’m going out to run some errands” he said as he started walking towards his bedroom.

“What are you mad at me for? Babe, I know you're feeling mad and that’s valid but you can’t just direct it at me” you said, trying to start a healthy conversation.

“Well if you didn’t distract me then we would have food ready by now” he replied harshly.

Oh my god. Is he for real right now?

You didn’t want to anger him more and ruin a perfectly fine morning so you gave up on fighting.

“Ok, I’m sorry, I really am.”

“ Are we good?” you asked after a while, as you slowly approached him.

“Yeah we’re good,” he said after a moment. “I'm sorry for lashing out like that. I was just frustrated. I love you,” he said as he looked up at you.

‘I love you’ 

He uses those three words a lot these days, and not in the way I like.

“It’s ok, I love you too.”

..............................................................

Present-day: “Is it the end, or the beginning?”

An hour had passed since the two of you lashed out and he was in the shower, apparently ‘needing a moment to himself’, Which was good because it gave you space to think. 

And as you thought back on past memories of your relationship, you realized just how naïve you had been. The red flags of your relationship had been waving with strong gusts of winds but your blinded eyes had refused to see them. 

Now, look at where we are…

You thought of how much the three letters you constantly told each other blinded you immensely to the reality of things. 

‘Love is unconditional…’ what bullshit.

After a while, you heard his feet walking toward you. You felt him hesitate next to you, but he ultimately decided to sit next to you on his sofa.

Silence is what seeped through the minute that followed.

This was it, I won't back down this time.

“I think you know what needs to happen” you said after, taking a deep breath.

“Yeah, I do. I’m so sorry kid, I don't know what came over me, I was just frustrated. Are we ok?

You laughed to yourself, internally.

What an idiot.

“You seem to be that way a lot these days. Frustrated,” you said as you looked at him with a cold face. “And that’s not what I was talking about.”

He looked at you and you saw the realization set in his face.

“No, kid,” he started but you dismissed him just like the many times he did to you.

“Listen, I think we both know that we’re bad for each other. And I don’t know what the hell held us together for so long when we clearly shouldn't have, tonight proved that” you said as you looked at him.

You had expected to see him look guilty but you saw eyes that were frantic and panicked. 

“I think we should break up.” You said as you stared ahead.

He took a moment before saying anything.

“So that’s it, you're just going to leave us like this?”

Your face flared up with anger. If he asked for it, he’s getting it

“Yeah, that’s it. Because I certainly don’t want a repeat performance of what happened earlier. I’m too fucking exhausted with handling your bullshit.” you said, finally getting the emotions that had been weighing you down off your chest.

“I’m too fucking exhausted of telling myself that you love me because if you did, you won’t be treating me like a fucking piece of shit.”

At that, he started talking again.

“How I treated you? What about the way you treat me? Do you even know how many times you’ve embarrassed me throughout these past two months? You treat me like I’m this perfect person and you have me up on such a high fucking pedestal but I’m sorry kid, welcome to the real world, nobody is perfect. Not even you.” he said as he stood up and slicked his hair back.

“I don’t want you to be perfect, I know fucking well that nobody is!” you said as you followed him.

“All I asked of you was to treat me like a normal person and not this situation that needs to be handled!” the tears that you had been holding in started to breakthrough.

“I poured my whole heart out to you and you just slashed through it like nothing happened. I broke, and that’s on you,” you said with finality, wanting to hurt him as much as he hurt you.

The two of you faced each other, each breathing heavily. Both of you knew that it was the end and that nothing could be done about it.

“Fine. this is over. But kid,-” He started.

“Don’t. Don’t call me kid” you said with ice-cold eyes. As you walked towards his door.

“Fine. Just know that you just ruined your last chance of ever having something. If you think even for a minute that a guy could even stand to be with you, you're just lying to yourself. You’re a fucking bitch that no one even likes. Remember that. You’re going to be alone for the rest of your pathetic life and you’ll wish that you had never done this.”

“I’ll take care of that, thank you very much.” You said as you took your jacket and slammed his door.

It’s finally over.

..............................................................

“Victim~”

As you conversed with the man in front of you, you realized just how wrong your fears had been.

After your messy breakup with your ex, his final words left a scar on your mind and heart. Even though you told yourself that he just wanted the final word, his words still remained a fresh wound, left open.

After a few months, you had healed, at least on the surface, from the way he treated you and the mental agony you were constantly in. And a work colleague that you had made friends with at your internship had asked you out.

It would be a lie to say that you weren’t scared and nervous to your core. But that would mean that he won and you weren’t about to let that happen, so you agreed.

And you were grateful to have done so because that date cleared all of your doubts. Even after a few dates, he was still trying to be better for you and putting the maximum effort into the both of you. And you were more than thankful that your past scars and wounds were slowly healing up.

It’s all going to be ok.

As you were conversing with him in your regular diner, the door opened, causing the bell to ring and the chilly air to seep in. A couple walked in, appearing to be madly in love which made you smile.

That voice… you thought as you heard who entered with his date. 

You froze as you realized who he was. And as you looked at him, you were surprised to see him looking straight back at you.

You gulped as he looked at your date, at you, and then back to your date again.

And he walked away with a shake of his head and a smile.

And that’s when you realized that no matter how hard you tried, no matter how much you tried to leave your past in the past, your scars and wounds would always follow you around. 

“Hey, you ok?” your date asked, with a worried expression.

You turned your head back to look at him.

Will I ever be?

[creatives-intro-to-depravity]

Introduction

Founded in 2007 by David Karp, Tumblr would become a social hub for any and all who wished to discuss their favorite forms of media. Whether it was a tv show, movie, band, celebrity, game, book, or any other piece of media, at its peak, Tumblr likely had a flourishing fandom for it. A Fandom is described by the Cambridge Dictionary as “the state of being a fan of someone or something, especially a very enthusiastic one.” This word best describes the culture that Tumblr was able to spawn online. As a more accessible and customizable alternative to many of its predecessors, it is no wonder that the site was able to rise to popularity among teens, young adults, and creatives. However, many of the peaceful denizens of Tumblr would start to notice some of the once far reaches of the site begin to crawl into the spotlight. Many sites run into this issue due to the nature of some of its users, but Tumblr was unfortunately unique in the age range of its users and its content. Being a common ground for a younger audience, the underage content in the pornography on the site became an alarming concern. Once a home for teenage girls, fandoms, “social justice warriors”, and the queer community, it now represented an arena for heated arguments, self-harm, gore, and most notably a warped and disturbing haven for problematic forms of pornography.

[linus-wickworth]

August 2023 Reading Recap

I managed to squeeze in a total of 95 books for this month, which is much too long to not have under a read-more. But here's my total stats:

Total: 95 books and 1 short story. Oldest: The Tenant of Wildfell Hall (1848). Longest: Les Misérables (1463pg). Average Pages: 289. 64% were YA. 56% were read as e-book or audiobook. 56% were written by female authors. Rep: 28% queer, 35% mental health, 25% POC, 15% disability.

5 Stars:

Pedro & Daniel by Federico Erebia The Hero of Ages by Brandon Sanderson Negative Space by B. R. Yeagar Head Case by Sarah Aronson A List Of Cages by Robin Roe How It Feels to Float by Helena Fox A World Without You by Beth Revis The Inexplicable Logic of My Life by Benjamin Alire Sáenz Orbiting Jupiter by Gary D. Schmidt The Vanishing Place by Theresa Emminizer The Cost of Knowing by Brittney Morris A Death on the Wolf by G.M. Frazier

4.5 Stars:

Lost Girls by Ann Kelley Beauty of the Broken by Tawni Waters Honeybee by Craig Silvey Bang, Bang, You're Dead! by Narinder Dhami We Need to Do Something by Max Booth III We Need to Talk About Kevin by Lionel Shriver My Father's Scar by Michael Cart Phoenix Rising by Karen Hesse More Than This by Patrick Ness Born to Serve by Josephine Cox Forgive Me, Leonard Peacock by Matthew Quick Howl by Shaun David Hutchinson You Asked for Perfect by Laura Silverman

4 Stars:

The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Anne Bronte A Very, Very Bad Thing by Jeffery Self Double by Jenny Valentine Tattoo Atlas by Tim Floreen The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold Bridge of Clay by Markus Zusak The Escape by Hannah Jayne My Abandonment by Peter Rock Brother by Ania Ahlborn Counterfeit Son by Elaine Marie Alphin The Escape from Home by Avi Les Misérables by Victor Hugo Young Pioneers by Rose Wilder Lane Elantris by Brandon Sanderson Let's Call It a Doomsday by Katie Henry Raven Summer by David Almond The Emperor's Soul by Brandon Sanderson The Hole by Hye-Young Pyun The Prince and the Pauper by Mark Twain Pandemic by Yvonne Ventresca Ashfall by Mike Mullin

3.5 Stars:

10 Things I Can See from Here by Carrie Mac Lord of the Flies by William Golding Calvin by Martine Leavitt The Long Weekend by Savita Kalhan Complicit by Stephanie Kuehn Surviving Bear Island by Paul Greci Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda by Becky Albertalli Rainbow Boys by Alex Sanchez

3 Stars:

They Never Came Home by Lois Duncan Five and the Stately Homes Gang by Claude Voilier Five Go On Television by Claude Voilier Five and the Golden Galleon by Claude Voilier Ten Mile River by Paul Griffin Five in Fancy Dress by Claude Voilier Pig Boy by J.C. Burke Five Versus the Black Mask by Claude Voilier The Meaning of Birds by Jaye Robin Brown Five and the Pink Pearls by Claude Voilier The Trouble With Half a Moon by Danette Vigilante I Am David by Anne Holm I Am The Cheese by Robert Cormier Five and the Secret of the Caves by Claude Voilier The Fear by Spencer Hamilton Five and the Z-Rays by Claude Voilier Hold Fast by Kevin Major The Disturbed Girl's Dictionary by NoNieqa Ramos Five and the Knights' Treasure by Claude Voilier

2.5 Stars:

The Rag and Bone Shop by Robert Cormier Five and the Mystery of the Emeralds by Claude Voilier Five and the Missing Cheetah by Claude Voilier Outside Looking In by James Lincoln Collier Tears of a Tiger by Sharon M. Draper The Hobbit by J. R. R Tolkien Too Soon for Jeff by Marilyn Reynolds Mine by Delilah S. Dawson Five And The Cavalier's Treasure by Claude Voilier Five and the Blue Bear Mystery by Claude Voilier Supermassive by Nina Rossing Five And The Strange Legacy by Claude Voilier

2 Stars:

The Island Keeper by Harry Mazer The Winter Children by Lulu Taylor 33 Snowfish by Adam Rapp Five and the Hijackers by Claude Voilier Let The Right One In by John Ajvide Lindqvist Paper Covers Rock by Jenny Hubbard The Story of King Arthur and his Knights by Howard Pyle

1.5 Stars:

Aliens in the Family by Margaret Mahy The Kingdom By The Sea by Robert Westall The Nightmarys by Dan Poblocki

[quibliography]

Storm Front by Jim Butcher

Synopsis:  This novel is about a professional investigative detective slash wizard. Harry Dresden is struggling to make business ends meet when he gets a call from a woman named Monica Sells asking to hire him to find her missing husband. It's just the job he needs to cover next month's rent when he gets another call from Lieutenant Karrin Murphy, director of the Special Investigations Unit of the Chicago Police Department. This one is a grisly double murder but that isn't the most disturbing part. Someone out there is practicing black magic. And they seem to be more powerful than even Dresden.

My Quibs: I've been meaning to read Jim Butcher and I'm a big fan of noir so I was hoping this was going to be right in my wheelhouse. Although I just learned this novel was Butcher's writing debut so I might cut him a little slack. But I don't think I really need to since I generally enjoyed it. The main protagonist is more or less entertaining if not a tad cliche. I appreciate his attempt to balance being self-degrading and egotistical (about being the only one capable of epic levels of magic). Now that I think about it, it gives me El from Scholomance vibes, but luckily he isn't an angsty teenage girl. He's just a self-aware douchebag, which I guess is the foundation of a noir inspired PI. It wasn't the characterization of our hero that I had an issue with. It was Butcher's use of the femme fatale. So first we have Monical Sells. Like Dresden, she's pretty much a copy of the classic character: doe-eyed, vulnerable, sexy, etc. Fine. Then we get Lieutenant Murphy. She's confident and firm, but because she looks like a cheerleader? Being blonde and petit and cute gives her a complex and an attitude. Ooookay, fine I guess. Then we get Susan Rodriguez, a reporter who knows she's attractive and how to leverage it. 🙄 *le sigh* And then there's Madame Bianca St. Claire, Linda Randall, I could go on. Butcher just barely toes the line between objectification and appreciation. Dresden even says "She would have punched me in the mouth for being a chauvinist pig." And I may have been able to tolerate it if it was more equal, but besides our protagonist all the male characters are distinctly unattractive. From paunchy idiot cops to a thief who is "short, harried-looking [with] hair [a] listless shade of brown". We get it, Harry, you're super straight. Girls are pretty and boys are not.

Should you read it? If you like classic noir and gritty supernatural elements, sure you should give Dresden a try. I'm wavering on if I should continue the series though because it takes Butcher a couple more books before he finds his footing.

Similar reads? At least for his debut, Storm Front doesn't deviate from the dictionary definition of either urban fantasy novels or classic noir stories. It's not distinctive enough for me to find an equal.

(Spoiler Alert!) Haha. Spoil this novel? Impossible. Even though it's a mystery, Butcher follows the blueprint for detective mystery. It's like watching a procedural television series. You more or less know what's going to happen and should just follow along for the ride. Come for the banter, not the "captivating" plot.

What did you think of Storm Front?