#and because i really like to think about object heads in relation to everyone else in nsr

[whatudottu]

You know I’m starting to fixate on something where I actually care enough about it to ramble something something- so let’s give it up for NSR! *tiny applause of me doing whatever the hell i want to do on this blog*

An odd thing for me though is that I’m specifically doing a whole character ramble and practically ONLY a character ramble so no biology stuff here (only slight astronomy). Please welcome to the stage, my scrimblo bimblo: DJ Subatomic Supernova!

As I once again shove aside my not only in-progress work but the ‘actually read to post’ work too, I’m here to spew words about my favourite egotistical space orb and not only am I going to do that, but also compare them to someone else of a unique mind. Because of both of their particular quirks about identity, self-importance, and ultimately expression of art, I like to think DJSS may share some grounds with Eve, perhaps enough to decently get along with each other if not even form a friendship.

If you’re one of my typical followers interested enough in reading this to get to here - the second paragraph UNDER the readmore - I will give a summary of the DJ and the Diva. DJ Subatomic Supernova, a space themed NSRtist with an ego so dense it can cause a singularity (which may or may not be an actual literal thing that has or did happen) and underappreciated ex-professor of university grade astronomy, strives to preserve their name and music to extend not only beyond their own time but for the future beyond humanity’s own existence in order to stave away fading into obscurity and truly becoming everlasting. In this battle of existential dread and their entire ‘Avatar of Earth’ schtick, we have a character who’s ego comes with a twist of not being selfish even though it is significantly self-centered, their motivations though using the medium of themselves being to create a legacy for humanity that will spread to the furthest reaches of the galaxy and back.

Eve meanwhile - real name Nadia - views the world in ways that seems only she can, seeing herself as the only one to understand the way she thinks and feeling so incredibly lonely in that fact - a realm of existentialism in of itself - especially since the one person that had begun the attempt had ended up losing thanks to his hair being set on fire. Expressing herself not only through her psy-dub music, Eve is an artist of multiple mediums from sound to visual, of sculpture, fashion, and paintings, many themes of her work centering on her personal experiences and insecurities, of eyes staring at her peculiarities and of turning those eyes against the viewer.

And what do you get when you cross an egotistical existentialist with a suffering surrealist? Maybe you get a little common ground to stand on. Perhaps not enough to satiate Eve’s personal desire to find like-minded brothers and sisters, perhaps not enough to bring Nova back down to Earth to appreciate the present for what it is. But perhaps enough that at least among coworkers, there’s even remotely enough broken ice to hold a conversation, perhaps enough that if in friendship, Eve may look towards the stars and Nova may look at the self of another.

Of course, this is not simply a character analysis based solely on canonical information, as it is now that I will elaborate (at least from the perspective of DJSS) with some headcanons of my own.

I’ve always been particularly an NSR lurker, not really doing much of actual engagement with the fandom but certainly sitting by the wayside and looking in. A thing that I have seen for folk’s take on a younger Nova is that they weren’t always a supernova one Bunkbed Junction away from going singularity- instead, they were a star. It’s always been one of the larger blue stars, but here I’d like to just go out and make it an O-Class main sequence star and be essentially a miniaturised equivalent; and when I say equivalent, I mean EQUIVALENT!

If you were an object head of maybe a G-Class main sequence star (the star itself significantly smaller than what it would actually be), you’d have on your head a miniature sun that would be a little portable and ultimately dimmer version of our very own Sol (or specifically if you had a G2-Class star which is more accurately our own sun). But if you had the misfortune of having an O-Class (O2-Class in this case for reference) star, with 800000 times the luminosity of the sun you’ve got a very VERY significant issue about just existing if you don’t wear something for the protection of literally anyone and anyTHING with eyes or cameras.

The ‘not yet named Nova’ Nova had to grow up early on wearing a super shaded helmet for the entire time they were star - already a thing one might be self-conscious about - up to and including the very moment they went supernova, another thing I must touch on. Depending on the size and general energy output of a particular celestial object - such as; a star - the point in time in which it collapses in on itself and, in the sake of stars, supernovas changes. And this particular case, let’s change a rather heard of saying for the sake of elaboration; the bigger you are, the faster you fall-

Not only was most of Nova’s early life spent hiding their star for the sake of other’s, anyone from astronomers themselves to any old star object head would say it was simply an inevitability that their star would collapse in on itself and become someone completely different, not a matter of if but when... and most certainly ‘young’ while it’s at it. Insecurities from being beheld a wonder to being seen as weird to even having adults already mourning their existence as a star, Nova may in fact turn to the stars above and retreat from the stars below in order to even begin to attempt to cope with their inevitable demise, embracing the existentialism and relying on their inherent knowledge of the astral sea to pursue a career in education. To teach people not to fear the end, the whatever theorised death of the universe, the collapsing of stars. To say that they shouldn’t be feared and shouldn’t be mourned just because they will change - and they will - and that the supernova that has been the subject of so much misplaced misery is in fact a dispersal of resources that can build to something much greater than the some of its parts.

And they are left unheard in the vast emptiness of space, of the classroom, of the home.

The inevitable happens, sparked early (far too early even for an O-Class) by a numeral amount of factors that would cause their world to spin, the light to bend, and an insurmountable level of stress and pain and misery and insecurity influenced supernova.

Too many lights and sounds and senses, DJ Subatomic Supernova particularly hates the design of Akusuka and Metro Division. Cast Tech, the district they hold Charter to, is low lit for a reason. Natura does not induce the swirling of senses, but DJSS has no particular interest in the gardens, for all the worth they put into Earth as a whole. And Dream Fever, something about the eyes that stare and the oddities that twist and turn.

Perhaps it is not their first choice to take in the work of Eve - of Nadia; the artist behind it all - it is not a reflection of their own story, nor does it reflect where they stand now. But there is meaning, meaning they can take in, take pieces of and relate them back to the past. The past that no longer exists, not if they have anything to say about it, not that they had any say in the first place. The artist Nadia, the diva Eve, the balance of the insecure and the expression. Reveling in the dual tones a much younger Nadia tried to hide (concealer rubbing off to reveal a hot pinkish red), the criticism of the viewer, to make the audience feel what had been felt constantly not entirely that long ago. A desperate plea to find someone that will listen, someone that will understand, someone that will hold their memory and share their story ad nauseam.

Perhaps there is something to share solace in, knowing that back on Earth there was another like Nova themselves seeking to engage to the world beyond them.

Though for different reasons, perhaps the two find even a slight solidarity with each other, whether friends or simple coworkers.

[dcxdpdabbles]

I was thinking about Danny talking about Dan to the Justice League and all it would take would be a little slip of the tongue for Danny's "he's my evil future self" to be heard as "he's my evil future son." Because it's one thing to have futures where You turn evil, but another thing to have futures where your family members, your KIDS, turn evil.

Phantom was new to the Justice League team. He had been inducted only three months ago and could be seen coming and going at odd hours. No one really knew much about him.

Phantom was recommended by Wonder Woman during the last selection. Apparently, she knew him due to a mutual acquaintance, a woman named Pandora, who had asked the princess to meet the boy—teenager? Man? It was hard to know what to call him because his physical appearance was that of a youth when he was immortal. She rarely nominated anyone for membership, but the person was precious to the team when she did.

And the ghost was.

Although he needed some formal training, Phantom had an excellent grasp of his powers and the cleverness to pull off moves with them, which Batman even praised. Many of the members adored Phantom's willingness to take on any role in a team.

He never complained about letting someone else take the lead, followed orders without much trouble, blended well with anyone as a teammate, and, most of all, had compassion for civilians. Phantom was often the hero who lingered after a battle to help clean up and provide relief aid.

Civilians adored him, and his fans were growing in numbers.

Despite all of this, Phantom wasn't really close with anyone. The ghost rarely lingered after his missions or monitor duty. He flew in, kept to himself, and left out once he was done.

Phantom never started or helped the conversation progress if it was not mission-related. He wasn't as bad as Batman, but he made it hard to connect to him. Diana assured everyone it wasn't because Phantom did not like them—he was only shy.

It was hard to put the being who single-handedly held off Superman the last time he was mind-controlled next to the word shy. Yet they've seen it.

They saw him nervously play with his gloves as someone spoke to him, struggled to think of what to say in conversations, and even ducked his head when he got too anxious.

It was like whiplash to see the ghost go from a shy, nervous teenager to the one that stopped and held Superman in a taekwondo hold until Batman could stab the needle to get him free of mind control.

Then, that same powerful fighter drags himself to the crowd and the smocking city, ready to assist in any way.

Despite being exhausted and covered in wounds, Phantom helped the crew in charge of clearing the debris by lifting heavy objects and scanning the building for people needing medical attention.

Phantom had been more than willing to follow emergency services' commands, personally thanking the EMTs and firefighters once the chaos was over. When a little boy asked for a photo, Phantom told him they could take one when everything settled.

No one expected the ghost to keep to his word, finding the boy and his mother later at a hospital for that photo. He has been awfully apologetic that the camera could only catch a blurry outline of him with his glowing green eyes.

The little boy hadn't stopped grinning despite suffering a broken leg.

He was literally the sweetest little hero—Bruce had to remind himself that he was not an actual child and was, in fact, thousands of years old whenever he saw the ghost fidgeting with something while on monitor duty.

That's why, the day Phantom threw himself into one of the lounges couches with a distressed sigh, everyone in the area surrounded him.

"Everything alright, Phantom?" Asked Oliver as the ghost's glow flickered in and out of his usual glow.

The immortal did not remove his hands from his face but nodded. His glow lowered again as if reacting to his lie.

The heroes gave each other loaded looks before Diana stepped forward. "You seemed troubled, dear friend. Are you willing to allow us to lead an ear to your woes?"

"Dan is just giving me trouble," Phantom mumbled, his words muffled by his hands.

Wonder glanced at the others, but when they shrugged in confusion, she sat next to the teenager. Placing one supporting hand on his shoulder, she rubbed it gently and leaned towards him. "Who is Dan?"

"Me."

Barry blinks. "You?"

"Yeah, the evil me of the future."

Phantom becoming evil? That was inconceivable.

"Did something happen to make you think you're going evil?" Barry asks gently, taking the other open seat on Phantom's left. He places a warm hand on Phantom's hunched-over back and is violently reminded of how tiny the boy must have been when he died.

It breaks his heart. He's smaller than Wally.

"The ancient of Time showed me that he destroyed the world. I helped create him, so I had to be the one to stop him. For the good of the world."

Diana sucks in a gasp, making Oliver, Hal, Barry, and Dinah weary at once. She made the hand motion, signaling that she would explain later, making the other heroes nod. "I know you may blame yourself, but that was merely a warning from the gods. You still have time to change the outcome."

Phantom glances up from behind his fingers. "You really think so?"

"Yes, of course."

The ghost offers everyone a small smile before vanishing from sight. There are gasps and a desperate cry for his name, but eventually, they realize the ghost has left.

"What was that about?" Hal asks after a moment.

Wonder Woman stands, striding over to the large windows of the watch tower. Her eyes turn to the brightest star visible with a small, sad smile. "Clockwork is the name of the ancient- one of the gods- that controls time. He rarely has champions, but when he does, he often gives them glances of their future. Many claim it's more of a curse than a blessing, for they often see the worse of what is to become."

Dinah straightens. "You're saying Phantom really will go evil?"

"No." Diana closes her eyes. "Ghosts are formed in three ways. The first is death. Someone or something dies, and they are formed from the souls getting attached to ectoplasm. The second is that they are bestowed a duty and are created to keep that duty alive. It often governs a part of our reality- space, dreams, wishes, and even plants. The last is the least common due to how rare it is for ghosts to have powerful enough cores. It is to be born from a stronger ghost, taking pieces of their core and growing into their own person."

Diana turns back to the confused-looking heroes to deliver her blow. "Phantom said it was himself that turned evil, but referred to himself as "Dan". Ghosts do not change their names, for their names are part of what holds their cores together. This means Dan is not him but came from him. His son will grow to be evil, and Phantom will likely have to put him down per Clockwork's instructions for the good of the world."

Hal bites out a curse. "That's sick. How could the time god ask Phantom to kill his own kid? Even if he is evil, Phantom doesn't deserve to have that duty placed on his shoulders. He's just a kid."

"But he isn't," Barry sighs. "Phantom is older than ancient Egypt. He just looks like a kid."

"It does not matter." Wonder Woman declares. "Clockwork's warnings can be overturned. We just need to help Dan off the road of darkness while he is still young."

They call for a Justice League meeting, one that only includes the original team that founded the league, to discuss a strategy plan. At first, some want to change the meeting to discuss how to put down Dan, wondering if being Phantom's son made him just as powerful before Batman stands up.

Bruce does not like the idea that the boy will end up destroying the world, but he is the most outspoken about Dan's innocence in the present day. His scorching words make a few ashamed of themselves for giving up on saving the boy before even meeting him.

The meeting drags on for hours until they eventually agree that they will monitor the child. If they realize he is too far gone to save, they will be the ones to end him. Phantom did not deserve to be the killer.

Clark asked Phantom to bring Dan around and introduce him. They dress the indentation as a league-wide party for the member's family (those in the know). The ghost looked spooked before he agreed to bring his child to meet the team.

A week later, every hero smiles politely at the six-foot-tall man with flaming hair who introduces himself as Dan. He's as bulky as Bane, and his low, dark voice echoes through the room. It's comedic compared to the cracking voice of his father, who has to flout to make them the same height.

As soon as the pair of ghosts fly away to speak to Supergirl and Robin, Barry grabs Bruce's cape. "That's a full-grown man."

"I know"

"Bats, that man is built like a brick house. "

"Yes"

"I thought Phantom said he was three? How in the Speed force is that man three?"

"It seems ghosts age differently. Or they are formed to take on the age they desire. I need to do research."

While the surrounding founding members whisper to each other, more heroes arrive at the makeshift party, some in their costumes and some in their civilian identities.

There are various reactions to Dan. A few consider him Phantom's father or brother, but both ghosts quickly make faces. Phantom reminds someone no less than five times that Dan is his future self.

Wonder Woman has to follow the pair whispering to confuse members about the cultural differences between ghosts and children. She doesn't have to explain that to the magic users or those who have worked with ghosts before.

There were a few who had vastly different reactions.

The members of Young Justice, including Secret, all backed up the claims that ghosts did not change their names and were treating Dan as a Phantom's son without blinking an eye.

John Constantine looked at Dan and cooed. "Aw, a baby core. How old is he?"

Phantom cracks a smile while Dan scoffs. "Three"

"Adorable." He raised his flask in salute, "He's powerful. You must be so proud."

Phantom's smile becomes strained. "Thank you."

Across the room, the founding members swear they will save Dan no matter what, as the larger ghost rolls his eyes and crosses his arms.

[dreameralive]

i think one of the most noteworthy things about Blaise that i haven't really seen anyone discuss is his tendency to liken others to children, his weaponization of it, its relation to him being a child abuser, and its relation to his defeat.

one of his first lines of dialogue, before he even introduces himself, is him humiliating Franziska by calling her 'little von Karma', and then bringing up something retroactively embarrassing she did as a little girl.

he frames this as genuine nostalgia, but to me, it's pretty clear this was a purposeful, and almost sadistic, powerplay.

there's also these lines. these aren't too strange, out of context - "let's all play nice" is a relatively common phrase, and in the second screenshot where he's discussing Kay and Edgeworth's friendship, they are literally youths (well, compared to him). but in context, it's clear that this is part of him attempting to assert his dominance over everyone else.

he wants to let everyone know that he is the adult here, and all they are is children - and thereby, they are completely powerless to his end-all authority, so they shouldn't even bother attempting to resist. this is further emphasized during his logic chess segment.

he calls Edgeworth 'my boy', he reminds him that he is his 'senior in life', he tells him he's being naïve. he threatens to never give back his prosecutors badge if he doesn't stop trying to question his authority. he asks him, mockingly, if he's scared. then, while grinning, he tells him that there is nothing he can do, and he should give up already.

he once again, more blatantly this time, is attempting to force someone else into accepting that they are the weaker party and that he could do anything he pleased to them, and once again, he is weaponizing the societal power imbalance between a child and an adult to do so.

i could go on and on for a while with more examples of this, but then that would make this post really long and rambly. so, instead, i'm going to discuss what his behavior ultimately results in.

this is probably one of the most disturbing interactions in Ace Attorney.

he does this purely so Sebastian will feel humiliated and ashamed in front of his colleagues, people he respects and who in turn are supposed to respect him. he does this to remind Sebastian that he is his father, and Sebastian is his child. to Blaise, that means he has complete control over him. and until this point? he actually does.

he has controlled every aspect of Sebastian's life to be exactly how he wants it. his path in life, his school, his tests - even Sebastian's constant usage of his surname serves as a reminder that Sebastian's only purpose to his father is to be an extension of him, a tool to feed into his ego. an object. something he owns.

note how, in their sprites, Sebastian is typically tilting his head slightly downwards, and in his crying sprites, he's leaning down. meanwhile Blaise stands high, and in his grinning sprites, his head is tilted up, as to literally look down on the person he's talking to.

but in the end, right before Blaise is convicted, right as Blaise tells him he should just remain his idiot son, Sebastian is looking up as he tells him goodbye. a way of saying that he's not beneath him, and he won't let him act like it anymore.

Blaise is immediately infuriated by this, and says all you've ever been able to do is depend on me. he screams Sebastian's name in anger - but it's cut off.

in fact, there is no more dialogue from Blaise after this. because he has no more authority, no more ability to scare Sebastian or anyone else into submission. in the end, Sebastian has finally taken back his autonomy that Blaise has robbed him of. so has Kay. so has Simon. all of them are children he has mistreated, threatened, and jerked around for his own selfish gain, but ultimately, they all still have more power over their own lives than he ever will again.

there's a lot more i could say on this, but these are all my thoughts i could organize. thanks for reading.

[seelestars]

Slow dance with Aventurine plz 👀🙏🏻

SLOW DANCE W/ AVEN… except the two of you are on an undercover spy mission ♡

a/n : ik this wasn’t related to the og req, but his bp icon got me thinking… and then out came this spy mission idea _:(´ཀ`」 ∠): hope u still enjoy tho ! had to google vids of slow dancing for this only to end up not being so descriptive abt it

you and aventurine were tasked with the objective of gathering intel on some people that ran the current planet the ipc wanted to conquer. except—it was specifically requested that you two harvest the information in a way that didn’t involve violence.

which is why the two of you were attending a banquet hosted by your targets as spies, wearing clothes that were equally as fancy as the attire of everyone else attending.

the place reeked of expensive champagne and luxury, couples inviting each other for romantic dances. it made you feel out of place, since you had nobody to dance with. you supposed it could make you and aventurine stick out like a sore thumb among everyone else—being some of the only people that were currently not dancing.

somehow, aventurine must have read your mind, because what he asked of you next was exactly what you were just pondering about.

“my lovely partner, why don’t we share a dance together? your envy is too obvious whenever you look at the couples here.” aventurine snickers, a fox-like grin on his lips as he extends his hand towards you. he had even decided to use a more affectionate term to refer to you, causing you to immediately perk up. it was quite amusing to him to watch you avert your gaze shyly whenever he acted more affectionate towards you.

“…no need. we’re not here to dance, aventurine. we’re here to do our job.” you decline, shaking your head. you couldn’t just let him distract you two from your main objective here… even though you would really like for him to distract you if it meant he would dance with you.

“oh? are you sureeee?~ after all, it’s a one in a lifetime opportunity to dance with *the* aventurine.” aventurine clicks his tongue playfully, teasing you. “besides, it’s only for a bit anyway. im sure it’s no harm if we get a bit sidetracked, no?” he doesn’t try overly hard to convince you anyway—he was sure you’ll give in without much persuasion. that’s how you always were when it came to him, unable to resist his charm.

“…fine. I suppose we can afford to get a bit sidetracked, just this once.” you sigh softly, a small smile on your lips as you inevitably give in to his desires. with slight reluctance, you take his gloved hand in yours as he begins to guide the two of you into a slow, romantic dance.

before you knew it, you were caught amidst an intense dance with aventurine. your gazes locked with each other as you carefully make sure not to step on his feet, as does he. you were sure your cheeks were very flushed currently—but he was right. it wasn’t everyday someone got to dance with someone like aventurine, who was the type of person both the ladies and gentlemen yearned for. so, you made sure to savor this precious moment.

aventurine then delicately guides you to do a twirl, letting out a soft chuckle once you do. “hehe, we should definitely dance like this more often, my lovely partner. we make for a good pair, don’t we?” he grins, smug that he managed to secure a dance with you. to him, you were so gorgeous that if there weren’t so many couples in this banquet already, everyone would be asking for a dance with you.

“…mm. we’ll see about that.” the way you smiled and looked at him made it quite obvious you would allow him more opportunities like this in the future. sure, this may have been a completely unnecessary distraction—but it was a pleasant one. a pleasant distraction that you wouldn’t mind happening more often if he was the cause.

[spitdrunken]

i keep thinking about essentially being like. velvette's 'charity case' model and how your relationship develops from there.

notes: fem!reader, velvette calls you ugly LMAO, beyond that... no warnings, really. surprisingly the most healthy vee relationship ive written yet!

velvette's typical models all look similar, reminiscent of the modeling industry back when you were alive. tall, skinny and, more important than anything else, human-looking. most of them could pass for humans in a costume.

you… do not. you just didn't get quite that lucky with your demon form! really, you can say that the vast majority of people drew the short end of the stick, at least by the kind of standards that people like velvette set. maybe you're a bat, with a snout you've deemed as pig-like taking up most of your face. or a sheep, your single-slitted, dead eyes making even you uncomfortable. perhaps you're more formed after an object than what you would consider a person, or plant-like in nature! in any regards, due to the way lucifer chose to have you reborn you firmly do not fall within hell's beauty standards.

all of that means you were absolutely not expecting to be accepted when you went ahead and applied to a job with someone as famous and perfectionistic as velvette. it had started as a joke, really. you'd posted a purposefully horrible picture of yourself on vitter, with a stupid caption like; "do u think that :skull::heart: would kill me for submitting to open casting looking like this lmaooooo" (you have to use emojis to talk about the vees, as the socials owned by them are notorious for taking anything remotely negative down.)

and unexpectedly, your post randomly did some pretty big numbers, with people egging you on and some practically begging to tell you what kind of insults she would sling at your head. you saw some people copying your original as well.

so you're like! whatever!!! you don't think that you'd even get through the application process, much less velvette herself. nothing will end up happening, so, who cares? but then, somehow, despite everyone and their mom wanting to model for velvette, you get… through? and you even get an interview scheduled with velvette herself?

she takes one look at you as you walk in, and just goes: oh my god. this really is grim. and you're hardly seated, before she continues. look, i don't have the time for niceties, and introductions are entirely unnecessary. i'm sure you already know this, but you're not here because of your looks.

yeah. you figured that. …i guessed so. but i'm still sitting here. so, why?

instead of getting a real answer, you're shuffled off into a shoot, different outfits flashing on top of your body, faster than you blink, velvette's face settled into a scowl, till it suddenly lights up. it doesn't go… super well, you've never really done this and, if you had, velvette's attitude surely wouldn't help. you never really get clarity as to why you're being hired, when a contract is shoved in front of you.

(the reality of the situation is that velvette had seen you trending, not trending-trending, but still a noticable. she realised the demand for someone like you, a 'relatable' every-demon being thrust into this new world, and documenting it online. her company can claim they accept 'all kinds of demons', and some poor suckers will feel less excluded when looking at her fashion, buying it more quickly. win-win-win!)

she tells you to you're face that you're the ultimate challenge. if she can fix someone like you up to in a half-decent model, it just shows that she really is a fucking goddess. maybe you're not as pretty or as used to everything as the rest of the models, but that doesn't mean you don't put in any effort now that you're there. the other girls won't associate with you whatsoever, but you do listen in on their conversations, pretending to mess around on your phone, coming to know the kind of make-up velvette likes. you tirelessly browse online, mostly on vikvok and vitter, figuring out the current trends. and after a while, velvette takes a look at an outfit you picked, and actually says…

this is pretty decent. it won't look good on you, but i can use this. maybe, somewhere along the way, you become more of an assistant or outfit suggestor for velvette, only occasionally stopping in for shoots. velvette never accepted anyone in a similar position to you, even though vox tried her to get an assistant for ages, and she wouldn't have accepted you either if you'd obviously being vying for the position. but you weren't, and your position just kind of naturally developed that way.

your shtick as a 'charity case' has somewhat been abandoned, though velvette still dumps clothes in your arms sometimes and tells you to try them on. maybe you're one of the few people who gets her to laugh, and the only one who she freely bitches to about all of her models. (she does this to vox and valentino too, but it's not the same. they don't care as much, nor do they really know who she's talking about.) she lets you sort through some of the open casting applications and help pick out the theme for a shoot.

of course, absolutely everything you do has to go through velvette first, and she still criticizes you aplenty, but you can't help but feel she has grown… fond of you, in a sense? sometimes, you swear you see her wearing outfits you'd picked out for another model… and while she shittalks everything that moves, you just happened to listen in on her giving a model a tonguelashing for talking bad about you. either way, you've certainly come to like her a lot more. you're now even mutuals on vitter and vikvok! much to the delight of the tiny following you'd grown on there. she even posted a picture of the two of you on there! …that means you've really made it.

maybe at some point, when her company has hit a new milestone and, in a rare slip-up (or perhaps valentino gave her a super strong drink on purpose, thinking its funny) she gets pretty drunk. you end up sitting opposite of each other in a bar, with her having decided on the spot to put some make-up on you, leaning in close to check her work, fingers gliding slowly over your skin. a situation that feels entirely too intimate for this setting, not helped by the half-lidded look in your eyes. …i have changed my mind. she mumbles, slurring her words are little. you can look pretty, after all.

you sputter out a oh really, and you only realised that now?! in order to break the heaviness of the air, the unspoken tension that makes your heart skip a beat, and velvette laughs.

(maybe there's hope for the two of you yet.)

[luminiscented]

Ninjago x Fem! Master of nature! reader

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Summary: you are the elemental master of nature <3, you are not related to Bolobo and he does not exist for the sake of this

Type: headcanons

Warnings: pure cloud made fluff <3333

Note: istfg everytime i write something i lose the time im mostly using 🫡 THIS SHIT DOESN'T HAPPEN IN GERMAN OR BULGARIAN WHAT IS GOING ON W ME!?!?!!!!!11

LLOYD

♡ Ever since he came to live with the ninja on the bounty you were immediate best friends <33 You are just so freeing and fun to be around!!

♡ He had a silly little crush on you as a kid,, he is plain head over heels as a grown up now though,,,,,,,,

♡ While the others just pushed him to train more and more until he was mentally exhausted, you would take him on little meditation forest picnics to clear his head and have fun after you're done with the (serious) meditations

♡Lloyd is amazed by your ability to always show him a part of a familiar place that is absolutely new and virgin to him,,

♡he loves how you find the beauty in every little being,, seeing you so in touch with your element gives him more motivation to explore his own and improve everyday

♡ you two would be rolling around in the grass and catching frogs and he would be the happiest he has been in weeks <3

♡ you are this boy's heaven and he thinks you are literally amazing,,

♡ you dislike forcefully growing your plants out so you play the guitar and sing to them to help them grow,,, he really likes singing along with you <3

♡Lloyd is a sucker for greek mythology and he loves pointing the similarities between you and the gods that rule over the wildlife. You adore listening to him ramble about it and its so interesting to you,,,,,,,

♡ Lloyd takes notice of how you're just as wild as the forest - gentle, beautiful, but still mystic and untamed,, he is in love

♡ He caught you catching a fish for an injured mama bear with your bare teeth. Just like that. UH-

Kai

♡ At first when you and the ninja begin to train under Wu together, Kai is so jealous of you,, you make the mastering of an element look so easy, while he was struggling so much,, of course he wouldn't let you notice, pfft yeah and give you an ego boost-

♡He is actually scared of embarrassing himself in front of you, since you look really nice and he wants you to think he is cool,,,,,,,,,,,

♡ Kai is about to lose his lunch when he sees someone cutting one of your limbs off during a battle,, he almost faints from worry while you just shrug it off and start growing a new one while the others take care of the villain and the half conscious Kai.

♡ When he comes to his senses, you're almost done shaping your new fingers into their original shape and he is blown away

♡ HOW THE HELL@@@????@

♡He is so impressed!! Kai actually realizes your body works just like a plant and is very curious on what else you can do, but doesn't want to annoy you so he keeps his questions to himself and sensei Wu

♡ Kai is proudly showing you off at dinner time that night!! He tells everyone how you were so brave and amazing and how your power is incredible!!!!!!!! He is also impressed with your pain tolerance

♡ At one point he notices your weakness to the cold and he is gladly there to warm you up he is dying on the inside he is so flustered

♡ Kai only buys you chocolates and never flowers, because he thinks you would be mad that he gives you your dead babies??????? Once he switched the chocolates with poppies in a pot (with a ribbon on!!) and it was adorable,,

♡ he is scared of bugs and when he makes you mad you put beetles in his hair

♡ you love sleeping in his room since it is so warm and toasty,, you bring your water bottle along every time and he finds it adorable, because you act just like a plant <33

♡He loves it when you change your hands into different objects/weapons,, you started chasing a screaming jay with your gigant axe hand and he kept hyping you up,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Zane

♡ you're weird, he's weird - soulmates1!!!

♡ Zane is absolutely in love with your connection with nature and wants to see the world through your eyes,,

♡ sometimes he gets a little insecure about how you can love him - a nindroid, knowing what you see, feel, your deep connection with life, but you are quick to comfort him that he is a living being that deserves just as much love as anything else that breathes the same air and walks the same earth as you all <33

♡ Zane spends a lot of time trying to understand how using your elemental power can come so easy to you and not the rest of them, but when he starts to join you in your free time more frequently he starts to understand - you just have fun with it. You let every new ability come to you naturally and you practice it little by little until you perfect it. You completely understand your power and do not pressure it. While Wu, purposely or not, guides you all to use your powers to fight, you use yours to create, to give, to help, to observe and to drown yourself in every sensation that no one else really can - your unique ability to understand every living being,,

♡ The titanium ninja is able to see the beauty that comes with your mastery and you both start learning from each other.

♡ You are in love,,

♡ Zane is quick to notice how your habits resemble ones of a plant and takes great care that you feel okay with the urban life of himself and his brothers <3 the most gentle boy ever,, reminds you of a daisy,,,,,

♡ The ice ninja is surprised to find out that you can survive on water and sunlight for long periods of time. Of course you never refuse to enjoy Zane's five star meals, but when food is scarce, you prefer your 5 liters of water and two hour long sunbaths,,

♡ HE IS VERY CAREFUL THAT YOU DON'T GET COLD,, Zane knows the cold is extremely harmful to you and you're more sensitive to it than his brothers so he gets really worried sometimes and tells you to get a coat in the 30 degrees Celsius summer weather,,,

Morro

♡ Morro sees you as so powerful,,, and very stunning <33

♡ When he first gets redeemed, he is struggling to make contact with the ninja and the butterflies in his stomach whenever he sees you approaching are not helping!!!1!

♡ At first you are very shy around him, because you find him very cool,, one day you come to him and quietly ask if he could use his wind to bring some rain clouds, because of the hot and dry weather and that is your first conversation,,,,,,, you are so shy,, he is in love

♡ You thank him for his help and invite him to spend some time with you outside

♡ PLEASE TIE HIS HAIR UP AND PUT SOME FLOWERS IN IT HE WILL ACT LIKE HE HATES IT, BUT HE IS ACTUALLY IN LOVE WITH IT,,,,,,,

♡ You make these meetings very regular and you enjoy each other's company so much <3

♡ Morro is very surprised to find out that you are aware/can hear what is happening around every compound plant - flowers, trees, etc.

♡ This ablity of yours is mostly very fun to use,, you regularly get a listen to some drama, heartfelt conversations, people complaining about their day and many others. You sometimes can't help it, but burst out laughing on the dinner table, because of a funny conversation that you could hear,,,,,,

♡ Morro loves hearing about them, but mostly loves listening to your laughter <333 He loves it when you are laying close to each other and you tell him about the people that share their love - a man writing a poem for his wife, a boy confessing his love to his crush, an old lonely lady wondering if she'll meet her dead lover in the afterlife,,,, it makes you both very emotional and you love sharing those with him because you both find them beautiful,,,,, it also helps you two to keep your relationship healthy and always know what is actually important <3

♡ Most of the time you are able to tone down almost completely all the noise, but some times it gets unbearable and overstimulating to the point you're breaking down,,, </3

♡ Morro is always there for you, holding you in his arms and keeping you away from any noises you could avoid. There is not much he is able to do to help and it breaks his heart </3 he gets so worried,, he goes to sensei Wu for advice.

♡ When it goes away you would be SPOILED,,,, mans is not letting you out of his sight for atleast the end of the day,,, <33333 HE LOVES YOU AND CARES ABOUT YOU SM !!!

Nya

♡ Water and plants?? Girlfriends.

♡ Nya absolutely adores you,,,,, she is just so in love,,,

♡ You help her understand her element more and she helps you with it so much,,,,,,

♡ You help her study different species and different cures for poison and she is always able to find a new spot for you two to explore

♡ She is absolutely in love when you put red flowers in her hair,, ITS HER FAVORITE COLOR!!!

♡ In her early training she wasn't really able to control much - only moving and creating water and she was so sad every time there was a flood somewhere, seeing your sad face,,, when you notice her looking at the ground guilty you pepper your girlfriend with kisses and reassure her that she has absolutely no fault <33

♡ She is very curious when you experiment with your powers!!!!!

♡ You could clearly see that Nya was needing an extra pair of hands when working on her Samurai X armor and she was very surprised to see 3 faceless girls made from lianas and vines coming up to her

♡ you appeared behind the 3 semi-sentient beings and told her that the 4 of you would help her out so it doesn't take as much time <33

♡ Nya is amazed, but she is mostly surprised that these 'plant copies' of you are able to understand and process information to a certain level,,, HOW!?!?

♡ You end up finishing the work on her armor in an hour and from then on she spends the entire day asking you questions about them!!!!!!! She is very interested in this!!!

♡ You explain to Nya the entire process which took around 4 months to perfect - starting from a little flower, then a tall fig, morphing and changing the forms to make your 'copies' look more soft and human,,, when you quietly mention you wanted to impress her she is RED!! YOU TAUGHT YOURSELF ALL OF THIS FOR HER???? dying on the inside,, system overload,,,,,,,,,,, <333333

Cole

♡ Everyone is jealous of how well you two work together as a team, especially when you fight!!

♡Your elements combine with great harmony so do your personalities <33

♡Cole adores your little forest dates and especially when you two talk about bugs and beetles <33 HE LOVES BEETLES!!!!1!11

♡ Since Cole is kind of the muscle of the team he ends up with little bruises and cuts littered all over his body after every battle and is delightfully surprised to find out that you can not only regenerate super fast, but you can also heal others with your herbs within minutes!!

♡ The way to Cole's heart is through his stomach so its definitely a win-win!! He is absolutely shocked the first time the bruises disappear within minutes and when he figures out you can heal with your food he is absolutely stunned,,, he is very curious and asks about your recipes and if you could help him be as good as you,,,,,,,

♡ You would all be coming home and the first thing to do is stuff your boyfriend's mouth with your lavender biscuits,,,,

♡ Zane may be in charge of the cooking, but you're in charge of the desserts <33

♡ Cole was in tears one time when you made him his mom's broth when he was sad,,,,,,

♡ When you're feeling overwhelmed he tries to recreate your treats with your healing herbs to cheer you up,,,, they are very ugly and lumpy, but they are tasty and made with a lot of love, so you two cuddle and eat sweets all night until you feel better <33

♡ He finds your love for wild animals very adorable,,,, a bear tried to attack the boys, but you just went up and hugged it as if it wasn't just trying to kill you all,,,,,,, YOU STARTED DANCING A WATZ WITH IT AFTERWARDS HOW ARE YOU SO PURE??!1!

Jay

♡ its a weird combination - nature and lightning, but you two make it sound so natural!! <3

♡ Jay is the ray of sunshine to your flower <33 His parents absolutely adore you and you love them a lot too!

♡ He is very impressed by all of your abilities! He is very vocal for his amazement and praises you all the time <33

♡ As a person who got sick every other week as a kid he is very jealous by your immunity to all bacterial, fungal and almost all virus infections. YOU NEVER HAD A SINGLE DAY OFF FROM SCHOOL AS A KID WHAT,,,,,

♡ He is a sucker for fruits and he loves it when you grow him fresh blueberries on the spot,,,,

♡ He sees you eating flowers out of the blue outside and when you tell him they are actually edible he is hesitant, but tries one for you,,, now he can't stop,, HE IS OBSESSED,,

♡ Your powers are somewhat connected to your feelings so it is not rare for you to accidentally grow something when someone gets a reaction out of you,,, JAY LOVES THAT,,,,,,, it shows how you are an actual person with feelings and he finds it so precious,,

♡ When he gets you all flustered, flowers start popping on top of your head,, he really succeeded if you got some blue ones among the others,,,,

♡ Sometimes cactuses pop out of nowhere when you get annoyed or angry

♡ All flowers in the room bloom when you're feeling happy and new ones come to life when you laugh <333

♡ Your power is so beautiful,,, he is ready for marriage,,

♡ Jay is very scared of your semi-sentient carnivorous plants,,, they don't like him very much </3

♡ You can literally make a whole army of those, but you just teach them how to dance<33 you are so pure,,,,

[deadbydangit]

Since today is mine.

Celebrating your birthday with them: Trickster, Mastermind, Trapper

Trickster

When it comes to his birthday, it's not just a day.

He celebrates for a full week.

All about him getting everything he wants.

He expects everyone to shower him in gifts and praise.

But you?

He's never celebrated anyone else's birthday before.

"So... It's the same... But opposite?"

Ji-Woon can be a little selfish.

He's never had a reason to celebrate someone else's birthday before.

Well, there was Yun-Jin but...

"Ugh, everything she wanted to do was like, the opposite of what I wanted to do. So I didn't do it."

Again, kind of selfish.

It's going to take some time to wrap around his head that today isn't about him.

So, he'll suck it up and do everything you want to do for a day.

Within reason that is.

If it brings any harm to himself or you, he's out.

No exceptions.

Or anything that could wreck his appearance.

Other than that, he'll make sure you have a great day no matter what.

Your favorite foods?

Done.

A piece of jewelry you've been eyeing?

Yours.

That restaurant you've always wanted to go to?

He doesn't even need reservations.

He's got you covered.

But if you think they're going to sing Happy Birthday to you at the restaurant, you're wrong.

The only one singing is going to be him.

And he won't do it out in public.

This is a special occasion for someone special like you.

So it's only going to be heard by your ears and your ears alone.

Mastermind

Birthdays aren't that big a thing for Wesker.

It isn't that he doesn't care about you or your special day.

It's just something he's not used to.

He never actually celebrated his birthday until he met you.

So forgive him if he's a little clueless or insensitive about the subject.

To him, simply wishing you a happy birthday should suffice.

He was just raised differently.

If it really bothers you, say something. Because he won't figure it out otherwise.

He'll make an effort to make it special for you then.

It still won't be extravagant, but he'll make it nice.

He'll let you sleep in, which is something he'd never let you do otherwise.

He'll even make you breakfast.

When it comes to gifts, he prefers practical things.

Clothing, wallets, things you actually get use out of.

However, if you hint hard enough that you want something, he'll surprise you and get it.

As long as it's not something like a video game that will cause you to be lazy.

He'd prefer to take you somewhere rather than get you something.

He finds experiences are more impactful than material objects.

He won't exactly spoil you, but he will do his very best to make the day enjoyable for you.

He'll try to accommodate himself to doing the things you enjoy.

Even if he finds them trivial or ridiculous.

If it's something that makes you happy, he'll join in for you.

He'll even try and be more positive and less cynical for the day, just for you.

Only for you.

Trapper

Evan grew up in luxury.

However, he never really celebrated his birthday.

If anything, it was a day of sorrow for him.

His mother died while giving birth to him, so he almost feels guilty for being born sometimes.

And his father wasn't one to show affection, let alone celebrate anything Evan did unless it was work related.

So he doesn't necessarily know how to celebrate someone's birthday either.

All the knowledge she has on birthday celebrations is from what he's observed and what he's read about.

However, what he knows about our children's celebrations. Not adults.

So he's still rather lost.

Of course, he'll wish you a happy birthday.

But other than that, he doesn't know what to do.

He's too prideful to ask for help for something like this, so he's going to try and wing it.

And, when that ultimately doesn't work out, he'll ask you.

And he'll ask you awkwardly.

"So... What do you do for your birthday?"

He's trying.

Give him a break.

But really, he wants to make this day special for you.

So you just tell him whatever you want to do.

And he'll do it, no questions asked.

Favorite food?

Done.

Want something? Anything?

It's yours.

Make sure to thank him with extra hugs and kisses.

It makes him feel like he's doing something right for once in his life.

[yourmomxx]

GIRL CRUSH

❧ summary - you are in love with jj, but he only has eyes for someone else

❧warnings - signs of depression, disassociation and withdrawal, all the angst, unrequited feelings, this is written kind of abstract, I think?

❧word count - 4.7k

❧based on this request

songs ❧girl crush - harry styles ❧she - dodie ❧astronomy - conan gray

❧main masterlist

“Because what’s worse than knowing you want something, besides knowing you can never have it?” ― James Patterson, The Angel Experiment

Kiara Carrera was the most beautiful girl you had ever seen.

It was a fact almost as certain as the continous circling of the earth around the sun.

She was captivating, really, and it was such a strong pull toward her it almost confused you.

Her hair was dark, curls silky and defined, in a way that yours could never be. You wished, sometimes, you had her tan skin, smooth and soft, the object of all desires. The way she walked was enchanting, floating just the right amount in her step and never too harsh. You could drown in the deep brown of her dark eyes, expression of empathy and compassion, sincere in a way you only wished you could be.

You were in love with Kiara Carrera, because who couldn’t be, with her angel voice, and her confident attitude, and the way she smelled of flowers, and beach, and the rising sun on the first summer day.

Kiara Carrera had once in your presence been compared to a descendant of the Greek goddess Aphrodite, which, in all honesty, you couldn’t do anything else than agree to. You would know, you were one of her best friends, you spent almost every waking minute with her and the rest of the pogues, and yet you never grew tired of the spark she had that made her glowing golden.

The amount of guys you’d had walking up to you, to ask for her or about her, and how could you blame them, you understood. But you turned them away.

You would like to say it was merely for Kiara’s gain, because you didn’t want one of those not-serious screwboys in her near, but it wasn’t, you weren’t considerate like that, another trait that she had you forward in.

But Kiara Carrera, beauty incarnate, the princess of pogues, living evidence of relations between the rich and the poor side of the island, had only eyes for one specific person herself. A boy that made her smile in a way that made her forget the entire world around her, and also shake her head in exasperation when he talked sometimes.

The lucky guy’s name was JJ Maybank, and he was her best friend, and, in a way, also yours.

JJ admired Kiara. In that way, he was no different to the other guys that kissed the blessed ground she walked on. He loved the way she paced around the room when she was contemplating hard, or the way the wind from over the sea blew a stray curl in her face.

JJ Maybank was more than his love for Kiara Carrera, though. JJ was kindness, and consideration, and he was the overcome of a terrible childhood, and he was the love he held for his friends.

In that way, you couldn’t blame Kiara for being infatuated him. Because who wouldn’t be? Thinking about it like that, they fit for each other perfectly, like two pieces of the same puzzle.

There was no space for you in-between. There never had been.

It had become a tradition for you and JJ to meet up in-between lessons to talk about the most mundane things, gossiping about annoying teachers and getting at least one intelligent conversation for the hour.

It was mostly JJ doing the talking, though, oftentimes. You didn’t mind. Letting JJ’s voice wash over you like the silent lullaby of the waves on a windy day had turned into a necessary comfort you couldn’t imagine to miss.

You hadn’t enjoyed school for a while now. There were too many people cramped up on too little space for your liking, and everyone wanted to talk about everything, and it demanded your concentration on things you found yourself not caring about or interested in.

But you met deadlines, and you delivered the grades, so that meant you were alright.

If the breaks you spent in-between classes leaning on your locker, talking to JJ - or mostly listening to him - were what made things worse or better, you didn’t know. And even if you had caught yourself glancing at his quickly moving lips for far too long than a friend should every once in a while, then you didn’t allow yourself to think about it.

The cheaply painted, red metal was cold against your cheek, as you did your best to not bend over and throw up that sickening feeling that’s been sitting heavy on your chest the entire day.

It was Thursday. Maybe. Might be Friday. You didn’t really remember it all that much anymore, it all was blurred. JJ was talking about a party he went to, where he met someone who told him something, that’s what your mind managed to register.

JJ didn’t enjoy spending time with you anymore. It was clear to you, clearer than freshly polished glass windows.

He hasn’t said it like that, of course.

JJ would never, he was too nice.

But you weren’t Kiara, and JJ would much rather spend time with her than with you. You knew that, it was not hard to tell.

All at once, JJ suddenly stopped his rambling mid-sentence.

You didn’t need to see the way he glanced over your shoulder as he suddenly stood taller, or hear the silk voice travel down the hallway, calling out his name, to realize who had shown up.

You recognized it in the change of his eyes when he looked at her.

Kiara swerved a younger student as she headed straight up to JJ, hugging him, and greeting you with the most blinding and sincere smile you’d ever seen someone wear.

She made it so easy to love her that you felt terrible about wanting to hate her.

Those thoughts were changed when she looped her arm around JJ’s and fixed his hair.

JJ’s hair didn’t need fixing, that’s what you thought. He was beautiful when his blond strands were tousled, boyish, and it added up with the mischievous glint that swam in his eyes.

You were being unfair now, you knew that, Kiara wasn’t the bad guy here, she’d merely pushed a strand of JJ’s hair aside as she talked to him.

JJ’s skin was surely burning at the spot where her skin had touched his.

You knew yours was.

JJ’s voice would be different as well, when he spoke to Kiara.

It was light, in a way that you knew you could never make him sound, because you had no way to make him feel free, and careless, and cared for, not in a way you used to, when he was still only friends with her and you were allowed to be selfish enough to keep him to yourself.

The sickening feeling spread again. From your chest, down to your stomach and in your throat, quite like the exact opposite of the warmth that seeing JJ once had given you, and you almost laughed at the irony if you weren’t in so much pain.

JJ waved his hand at you. “Hey man, see you later, I told Kie I’d walk her to class.” You blinked.

Kie. He liked to call her that. A nickname. He’d never given a nickname to you.

You nodded. “Yeah no, sure. See ya.”

JJ disappeared into the crowd, Kiara somewhere next to him.

All of a sudden, you didn’t know if the world had been this blurry the entire time.

The next time it happened, was at the beach.

You were walking next to JJ on your right side, Kiara was occupying your left. You were on your way together to John B’s cabin to meet him and Pope there, and had decided to take the long route next to the raging sea.

Wind was carrying the smell of salt in your direction, and JJ’s tanktop was tugged around all over his body.

In hindsight, you should have known. In hindsight, if you had spun the thought only a bit further, you would have known that there would not be a way for this to work.

JJ and Kiara were two forces pulling each other near, nothing that only possessed human strength could put itself between them, it was no use, not even to try.

“And I mean, the Carsons got this huge boat-”

JJ gestured around with his hands when he talked. You leaned slightly away as to not get in the way of his movements.

Kiara was focused on him when JJ spoke. Her body subconsciously drifted nearer.

You leaned slightly away so she wouldn’t bump into you.

JJ made a joke.

Kiara laughed.

She doubled over and leaned into JJ. Her hand found his arm as she slapped him playfully. JJ tucked his head down. Blushing, probably.

This time, the sickening feeling started in your stomach and chest already.

They were walking together now, right next to each other. Their joy-bounced steps carried them further than yours, weighed down by longing, and caring, and guilt, and you fell back.

The only thing you could do was follow their already vanishing footsteps in the sand.

When you arrived at the cabin, and Kiara and JJ greeted your friends a whole lot of feet before you did, John B raised his eyebrows at you, questioning.

You ignored his suspicious look.

Pope seemed to hold you just the tiniest bit closer when he hugged you.

The feeling spread out to your head.

The last time it happened was at a party.

One, that, in your defense, you did not even intend to show up to. It was a house party, which was unusual enough as it was, which pogue was there you could meet that had enough space in their house to throw a party and enough determination to clean it all up afterwards?

But, apparently, John Laren had moved new on the island, and wanted to make his presence known as of that event. Where middle-aged people brought casseroles, cupcakes or batches of brownies, eighteen year-olds threw massive parties with drugs and alcohol for everyone that was underage and younger.

As mentioned, you hadn't planned to go. In your current condition, a party was really the last thing on your mind.

Unfortunately for you, though, you had not calculated Pope Heyward into that idea.

That prick.

"Yes, I'm coming!"

You rushed to your front door, almost tumbling over that goddamn couch leg that you had wanted to rip off for years now, and quickly swung open the thick hardwood, before the person on the other side could get a chance to pound against it as if their life depended on it again.

"Geez!"

Before you were even able to realize who stood before you, Pope had already shoved you by the chest, and into the house again.

The door slammed close again.

“You are going to that party.”

Your mind wasn’t working right now.

“What are you- Hey, come back!”

But Pope had already made his way up the stairs. You turned and ran after him.

By the time you arrived on the upper floor, Pope was already standing in your room, ready to open the closet doors. You jumped forward and slammed then closed, guarding them with your arms spread like something sacred.

“Slow down,” you said. Pope rewarded you with an impatient look.

“What are you doing here?”

“You know what i’m doing here,” Pope shot back, no hesitation.

You withstood the urge to roll your eyes.

“I’m not going to John Stewart’s,” you clarified.

Pope did roll his eyes.

“His name is John Laren,” he corrected you. “John Stewart is on reality tv.”

He grabbed you by the shoulders, and easily maneuvered your non-resisting body to the edge of your bed.

“And you are going,” He stated. He pressed you into the mattress.

“Now sit down and be quiet, and let me pick out something for you to wear.”

Pope whirled around and ripped the closet doors open. He began rummaging though the different shirts and pants that were hung up inside.

“I don’t understand why you so desperately want me to go,” You said, swerving right to ditch an orange shirt that came flying at you just in time.

“Because,” Pope drew out the word slowly, as he concentrated on a black tank top in his hands, “you’re sulking.”

He walked over and thrusted the top into your grip.

“And when you’re sulking, I’m sulking,” he continued. “We’re twinning.”

“But we’re not-“ Pope raised a warning eyebrow. You raised your hands in defeat.

“Alright, alright.”

Pope patted your cheek.

“That’s my boy.”

A second of hesitation, but Pope sighed and the mattress dipped as he sat down next to you.

"Look, man," He started, hesitantly. "I like to think that you don't think I'm stupid."

You raised your eyebrows. Pope continued.

"And, considering I don't need glasses, unlike - some of us-" He took a deep breath.

"Man, I see the way you look at Kiara."

Your eyebrows shot up to your hairline.

The way you looked at- "What?" You stuttered out, not even trying to hide how baffled you were.

Pope shook his head. "My bad, I should have worded that differently. I mean the way you look at Kiara, when she is around JJ."

Oh.

Oh.

Ah.

Your body felt slow. This made way more sense.

You didn't even notice how you were slowly turning away to not have to look Pope in the eye.

"Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't-" Pope scoffed. More at himself than you, really.

"I know we have that rule. No pogue on pogue macking? But seriously, man, I should be the first person who knows what it feels like to be in love with their best friend. And honestly? I can't blame you."

You felt a comforting pressure on your shoulder when Pope placed his hand there.

"I want you to know I'm not judging you. Don't feel bad about ... what you're feeling. You know?"

You loudly breathed in, not even knowing what to say. What could there be to say?

Pope stood up again. His hand slid off your shoulder slowly. He didn't hold your silence against you. You silently thanked him for it.

"Look, that's the whole reason I want you to go to this party. You need to loosen up a little, drink away your thoughts, get some groove in."

Pope demonstrated his words by shaking his whole body from one side to another like a dancing snake.

The corners of your mouth cracked into a smile at that. Pope saw it as a win, turned back to your closet again, grinning.

You sighed, suddenly reminded of why he was here in the first place.

"What would I even be doing there?"

Pope shrugged, still rummaging through all your clothes, not caring about any mess. "Go out. Have fun. Have some drinks. Have some boys, have some girls, whatever you're feeling tonight."

You ignored him. "Are JJ and Kiara going to be there?"

"No," Pope answered shortly and pulled out cargo pants from the closet. "They both have plans."

"Together?"

Pope threw the pants at you. "Here you go. Put it on, fifteen minutes, downstairs." He waved himself off. "Actually ten, you're not a teenage girl. Let's go!"

And just like that, he was out the door. You regarded the clothes in your hands skeptically, the black tank top and dark green cargo pants, and couldn't help but notice, how Pope had not answered your question.

Jason Lawrence was a Pogue, whose lifestyle drifted more toward the direction of Kook. There had been a few of them over time, the line between too poor and too rich wavering, and they were trapezing on it.

Whether John Lance invited all entirety of the cut to show off, or to really just throw himself a good old welcome party, remained unclear.

In all honesty, you didn't really care that much. The only reason you were here was because of Pope, and the second he dared to take his eyes off you for more than five minutes, you would be gone like the wind.

Multicolored lights flashed over the ceiling like the spotlights in a club. Most people that were running around with red solo cups in their hands, you recognized - from bonfires or other house parties.

In a way, the entire cut was just like a really big neighbourhood.

Your eyes searched over the crowd of people, desperately looking for a quiet space next to a wall, hopefully, and you politely denied a blond girl with just the necessary amount of covering-up clothing, when she offered you a drink.

"Come on, man, at least pretend like you're having fun!"

Pope appeared next to you out of the blue, and if the loud music hadn't swallowed his equally yelled words, you would have flinched.

You shot your friend a grim look.

"That would be lying, and I don't like lying."

A sharp pain erupted in your chest when Pope stabbed his finger right above your sternum.

"See, I know that's a lie," He said. "Because I know you like lying, I saw you lying often, so what you just said -" He raised his poking finger, "-'t was a lie."

You leaned closer to him and furrowed your eyebrows.

"Dude, are you drunk already?" You asked loudly.

"We've barely been here for half an hour!"

Pope shrugged, shoulders and hips moving to the rhythm in a way that was definitely not correct by beat.

"Chester from the mini bar did a mix for me!" He explained, hand shooting out to point you in the direction where he had come from.

You raised your eyebrows. Chester from the mini bar might have mixed Pope's stuff a bit too well. That lightweight couldn't hold his own on a normal day with a beer.

You smelled the cup in his hand and couldn't fight off the way your face twisted in disgust.

"Dude, what is in there?" You took the cup out of Pope's hand, which was relatively easy, he wasn't all there with his hand anyways.

Pope drew his eyebrows together and pulled his lips into a pout.

"I was drinking that," He complained. You shook your finger in front of his face.

"I think you've had enough, honestly."

"Give that-" Pope burst forward and grabbed for your hand holding the drink, but you pulled it out of his reach just at the right time and raised your hand in the air the highest you could.

Additionally, you raised yourself on the tips of your toes.

Pope tried to stretch himself, but it didn't budge, so he shorthandedly pressed his thumb into the crook of your elbow hard, forcing you to bend your arm down.

Your friend let out a victorious laugh as he reached for the cup that was now almost on eye-level with him, when you made a not thought-through decision on the spot, raised the cup to your lips and downed its contents in one sip.

The liquid went down your throat like cold fire.

Your entire inside squirmed, and your face twisted into a grimace of pure disgust.

"Hey!" Pope threw his hands in the air.

"You're drinking, man! You're having funnnn!"

You wouldn't have put it like that, maybe. But when Pope grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you with him, through the crowds of people and to the shining neon letters that said MINI BAR, you just followed him.

You were having fun. It was almost an hour later, or maybe two, might have just been a half, you didn't really know. Or care.

The solo cup you were sipping held your fourth drink tonight, or your sixth, or your third, you had absolutely no idea.

All you knew was that it burned in your throat like any good liquor should, and that it made you feel good in a way you hadn't felt for weeks now.

The way you weren't quite in full control of your limbs was a side effect you chose to ignore.

The air was vibrating. All colors were more saturated than the first time you came in, they flickered behind your eyelids even when you weren't looking.

Hot bodies of multiple people crowded together, somewhere a table was playing beer pong, while the music roared through your blood stream and pushed arenaline with it.

It felt good. You felt good.

Why hadn't you done this much sooner, Pope was right. And alcohol was great. Like, actually.

The tunes drew you in. Masses of people, it felt, were moving in the same way, all together.

You closed your eyes, and just let it go.

No thinking about the right way to move your lips, the sweat slowly dripping down the back of your neck, or how the alcohol in the cup wasn't quenching your thirst, just worsening it.

It didn't matter. It was as if the music had manifested itself physically, and was moving all of your senses totally on its own.

You felt light, a feeling you had missed over the last few months.

Your chest was free, you could breathe.

The air was full of euphoria, it tasted of glee.

Suddenly, there was a sound that stood out, something that didn't fit the atmosphere.

You blinked your eyes open just the slightest bit.

There, just a few feet away from you, you made out a familiar arrangement of blond strands - some dark, others lightened by the burning sun out on the waves of the sea.

It was a magnetic pull, you couldn't do anything against it if you wanted to. You hadn't really been in posession of your own body since you had taken that drink from Pope.

"JJ!" You heard yourself call out.

Your friend turned around to you, and God, his eyes were beautiful. The string of colorful lights was perfectly illuminating the small streak of skin that was laid free beneath the unbuttoned top of his shirt, a brown one, lazily tucked into casual jeans.

He looked good.

And would you love to blame that thought on your currently dosed state.

So you did.

Your hand slapped on the place of his shoulder, just where his neck met his chest.

"What are you doing here?" You asked, loudly to overcome the sound of the music. "Thought you had plans."

JJ grinned. You mimicked it. Pope had once told you about the mirroring statistic with people one liked. You thought it was bullshit.

"Made a last minute change!" JJ yelled back, and even in your current condition you noticed how his gaze flickered, searching for something that wasn't you in the crowd of people.

"Me and Kie made a stop here before ending our date!"

You blinked.

“Huh?”

You were quite sure JJ repeated his same answer to you. But you didn’t really know, because your ears felt stuffed.

Me and Kie made a stop before ending our date.

Me and Kie. Our date.

You stumbled back.

John B had dunked your head in cold water once to sober you up. This was worse.

Your chest felt heavy, pressed together in a camp handle.

Your hand dropped from JJ's shoulder. He didn't notice. His eyes kept scanning the crowd.

You backed away. You needed space, just some way for your chest to expand and let air into your lungs.

Your back hit another wall of bodies. Everything was so tight around you.

The air didn't feel euphoric anymore, it felt stuffed, and thin, and heavy.

You needed to get out of here.

Stumbling, tumbling and tripping, eyes always focused downwards, you pushed past one person after the other.

You didn't know where you exactly were going, but when you reached a wall, there had to be a door somewhere too, right?

You got lucky. A tall boy was pushed into you and made you almost fall over, but the way you leaned into a different direction drew your attention to a large gate not too far away.

You gathered your last bit of lasting strength in your legs and pushed yourself out of the house, out of the stuffed room, into the cold air of the night, and the smell of sea salt rather than the salt of sweat.

You left the lights behind you. You just kept going. You needed to get some distance between you and that house.

You ran until you reached the shore; quite literally.

The hard wood of the dock creaked under every step you took further out, until you reached the ending.

Tied down ships were softly tuckering on the wooden stakes.

Rather laboriously, you leaned down to sit on the edge of the not fenced trail. You brushed some dirt off your palms, and hugged your knees to your chest.

Almost every last drop of drunkness you had felt just a few minutes earlier, had vanished.

There were no chattering voices around you, nor the hard bass of a remixed 2000's pop song. Just the small, almost not there, rush of the rustling waves.

An occasional drop signified fish swimming to the surface and diving down again.

Some frogs were quacking in the tall blades of grass.

You pressed your knees closer to your body.

Through your lungs, you inhaled the warm summer air. It would soon be morning.

Something directed your thoughts to the song 'Memory' from Cats.

"And soon it will be morning".

The background noise around you didn't change.

You hated how weary you felt, how heavy your heart. From one sentence, how your night was taken in one's hand, and crushed right in-between his fingers, without him even realizing the splinters digging into his palms.

You hated how much power you had given him over you, a man, a boy, who had no interest in you besides the one of a good friend, which was fine, you should be fine with that.

But for some reason, you weren't, in the same way that you weren't altruistic, and not a girl with dark hair and curls and tan skin, the way that you just weren't Kiara Carrera.

Who were you to blame JJ for the way you couldn't grow up and grow out of your feelings.

"Touch me, it's so easy to leave me".

A soft creak behind you caught your attention.

You didn't turn around.

There was no danger to be expected from the people on the Cut. Not that you knew of.

You told yourself that was the reason you stayed.

Not the fact that you didn't care, if the approaching footsteps were danger or not.

A body, clad in a dark brown shirt and jeans plopped down a few feet to your right.

You almost retched when the smell of distinct perfume reached your nose.

"What happened, man?" JJ asked loudly. "You just ... left, back there. We didn't know where you were." He chuckled. You could hear it in his voice, the way he was still rest-drunk. "Thought you found yourself a nice lady and decided we weren't enough fun, if you know what I mean."

You stayed silent.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw JJ looking at your side.

You heard him sigh.

"Man, I'm serious. If something's wrong, you can talk to me. I'm always there for you, you know that."

You bit the inside of your cheek.

Was it fair to let him fidget, like a fish on a rod? As far as you knew, JJ hadn't done anything wrong, not actively.

You stared out the sea.

"I don't like you with Kiara." Your voice was raw and rough. You slightly cleared your throat.

The light breeze made the reeds rustle in a whisper.

JJ sighed and rubbed a hand over his face frantically.

"I know, man," He murmured. "No pogue on pogue macking, I get it. I broke the rule."

You hummed. Behind the horizon, the sky colored brighter.

"Maybe it's that, yeah." You still didn't turn your head.

The night ended and greeted the day, the blood rushing through your ears drowning out any other noise around you.

You pushed down the shiver that threatened to shake your body when the wind picked up.

“But maybe it’s just because I am so terrifyingly in love with you.”

Behind the reeds and over the smooth water, the sun rose slowly above the Banks, a burning orange flare of light.

“I believe in love and lust and sex and romance. I don't want everything to add up to some perfect equation. I want mess and chaos. I want someone to go crazy out of his mind for me. I want to feel passion and heat and sweat and madness. I want valenties and cupids and all of that crap. I WANT IT ALL” ― Barbra Streisand

[666writingcafe]

Quick Strategy

After hiding in a side corridor and giving the spider the slip, I'm able to properly assess everyone's emotions. I'm more or less calm, Asmo's freaking out, Lucifer's over it, and MC...

For once, I can't read them.

"We need to figure out a way to soothe this beast," Lucifer remarks quietly. "Otherwise, we're not getting out of here alive."

"And how are we supposed to do that?!" Asmo exclaims, causing MC to hush him for being too loud. "We don't have anything at our disposal!"

"That's not entirely true," MC replies.

"What do you even mean, Zephyr? Of course it's true!"

"Your charm. It's tied to your demonic power."

"But I've never charmed an animal! At least, not on purpose! Besides, I've not dealt with something this huge before. I don't think I'm powerful enough to stop a giant spider in its tracks."

"Maybe not on your own, but if your power is combined with someone else's, then you'll be able to calm this spider down, and we can go home." Is MC doing what I think they're doing?

"How do we go about doing that?" Lucifer sighs.

"Unfortunately, the quickest and most painless way would be for you to make a pact with Solomon," he answers. "From what I've heard, he's powerful enough to draw out and enhance your demonic power." I never thought I'd see the day. Lucifer actually agreeing with me about pacts?

Granted, he's not the one getting one from me, but still. He's made it clear many times before that he doesn't want my magic anywhere near him or his brothers.

"But don't feel like you have to if you don't want to," MC quickly adds. "It's very difficult to undo a pact with someone, so you need to be completely sure that you want it before getting one."

Okay, now I'm confused. Surely MC remembers the situation with the snake, right? That's why they brought up his charm in the first place, isn't it?

"In this particular situation, however, it is the most viable option. You'd still be able to keep some autonomy this way, and that won't be possible if you choose me or Zephyr."

"Quit forcing the issue, Lucifer."

Oh. I get it. MC's still pissed that Asmo got manipulated into making a pact with me.

But I'm not the one pulling strings this time, which makes their objection that much more baffling. They seem to be bumping heads with Lucifer a lot more frequently in this timeline, and I have no idea why. Is it related to a power struggle that I don't know about, or is it something else entirely?

"Zephyr, believe me, I'm not a big fan of the idea. I don't trust Solomon as far as I can throw him, and I have no doubt in my mind that he's going to abuse this pact with my brother." Wow, Lucifer. I'm standing right here. "However, desperate times call for desperate measures, and I don't know about you, but I'd really like to not become that spider's lunch."

"What's this about keeping my autonomy?" Asmo asks. MC diverts their attention away from Lucifer and answers,

"A pact between a human and a demon works both ways. He has the ability to control you, but you can also do the same to him if the mood strikes you."

"How interesting..." Asmo's deep in thought. Now's my chance.

"If we make this pact, I promise I will do anything you ask me to," I quietly tell him, causing his eyes to light up.

"Anything?" I nod. "You'll actually allow me to charm you into submission whenever I please?"

"Yes." I know MC probably thinks I'm lying, but the truth is, I've already agreed to this arrangement with him. Initially, it was proposed as payback for me taking advantage of him while he was drunk.

But as time's passed, I've actually come to like having Asmo controlling me occasionally. It's a nice way to shut my brain up for a bit and allows me to genuinely relax. No thoughts; just Asmodeus.

The Avatar of Lust smiles as I hear something scuttling across the floor.

"Then let's make it official. I'll make a pact with you, Solomon."

"Better make it quick, because I think our spider friend's returned," MC warns us.

Thankfully, I know how to do exactly that.

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr, @tenkobitch

[m00nsbaby]

Violent things.

Steven Grant + Marc Spector + Jake Lockley x F! reader. Part I. (Out of 3.)

Tags & warnings. Lots of talks about death, violence, abuse. Inspired by Moon Knight's 5 episode x Corpse Bride. (+ this one is for my delulu girls since the reader is a bit delulu lol.)

Word count. 6.2k

Summary.

"Oh man!" What an interesting accent. "Wow, these meds are really amazing," he whispered as he tried to catch his breath. Hah, he did that too. "I thought I was dead." He hadn't even looked at you properly; he was just suddenly relieved to be in the presence of someone else. "Oh, no," you cleared your throat. "You are dead."

Each person had a different 'other side.'

Except you. Or well, technically, you had it, but it had been a long time since you'd been in it. In fact, apart from the bright colors, you couldn't remember much of it.

You'd been in excessively bright representations of what people imagine as 'heaven,' parties with mead, and you'd even tried candies that would have turned your tongue green if you'd eaten them in life.

Although, of course, that's how the most common ones looked; there were stranger ones too. People seeing themselves in their tiny cat-filled apartment or wandering the halls of their old school. Either way, it was fine because it was only temporary while they reached their destination.

Everyone except you.

And a few others who had the misfortune of lacking emotional intelligence even in death.

Literally.

It's okay, though. Over the years, you got used to this 'life' and the idea that you would never see him again, although getting used to it didn't mean you stopped missing him.

Stopped thinking about him.

Stopped wanting him back.

Anyway, work kept you busy because, yes, even in death, you couldn't escape the damn bureaucracy. You didn't have a real name for your boss because she also looked different to each person; to you, her face was very similar to that of an old friend, even though you couldn't specify which one.

She took pity on you somehow. She explained your situation, although it took you a lot of energy and time to understand it. She did everything possible to keep you from becoming one of those lost souls who simply roamed around here. She also pulled you back onto the path when you began to stray.

"There are 3."

You frowned.

"What do you mean, there are 3?"

"There are 3." she shrugged as you walked through the corridors of the psychiatric void. This was a new scenario, and your clothes were different too. Something more modern, you didn't recognize it as something from your time.

Yes, a few years weren't that long, but fashion moved disgustingly fast in the world of the living.

"Do you think you can handle them?" Should you mention to the boss that she looks like a chatty hippo, or is that the kind of thing you keep quiet to maintain good working relations?

You bit your lip and then nodded.

"Good luck." Her mocking smile was never a good sign.

Before you could object, she had disappeared. You took a deep breath; those were funny expressions that had stuck with you even now that you didn't have to breathe for real.

Your shoes echoed in the empty halls as you headed for what you assumed was the main entrance.

The door opened by itself.

Or rather, it opened before you even extended your hand.

"Whoa." You muttered, your eyes widening at the guy in front of you.

A rebellious curl fell over his forehead, and his huge brown eyes were even wider in surprise. He was dressed appropriately for the situation; it looked like a uniform for a psychiatric ward patient, and although it was loose-fitting, you would swear you could see his muscles from miles away.

And he, on the other hand, practically screamed in your face.

"Shit!" He jumped in place, bringing a hand to his chest as he laughed in disbelief.

Oh yeah, there was a bloodstain right on his chest. Nothing to worry about, not anymore at least; once you died, you technically couldn't die twice.

Although finding a functional washing machine in any of the many 'beyonds' was trickier than it seemed. If this Marc Spector guy was in the same situation as you, it was quite likely that he would spend the rest of eternity with that stain on his clothes.

Unless the boss offered him a job.

It would be wonderful to have him here forever.

Were you overthinking? Probably.

"Oh man!" What an interesting accent. "Wow, these meds are really amazing," he whispered as he tried to catch his breath.

Hah, he did that too.

"I thought I was dead." He hadn't even looked at you properly; he was just suddenly relieved to be in the presence of someone else.

"Oh, no," you cleared your throat. "You are dead."

Your voice sent shivers down his spine, and when he finally bothered to look at you more closely, you could see a touch of fear in his expression.

You were used to it by now, so why did it hurt this time?

"You're joking."

"Maybe if there was someone else to see me lying to you, it would be more fun, don't you think?" You tried to joke, but the poor guy seemed on the verge of an emotional breakdown.

That was a good sign; maybe you could keep him after all.

Marc pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes as he tried to regain his composure.

"Do you expect me to believe this is the afterlife?"

"No, not the afterlife, an afterlife. This one is yours, well, for now, this is the path."

He fell silent, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as if his body still needed oxygen.

You waited.

And waited.

And waited.

But he never said anything, so you caught his attention by clearing your throat.

"Welcome, dear… traveler," you murmured as you clumsily searched for your notes in your pockets.

Ah, there they are.

"I will be in charge of…" You continued reading. "Guiding you on your way to…" How could you call this? Heaven? Valhalla? Mictlan? "What comes next."

Marc looked at you as if you were crazy, and you had no choice but to continue.

"It's a place that's difficult for the human mind to comprehend, so for you, it's something more…" You looked around with a furrowed brow. "Familiar."

He scoffed, his tone full of irony.

"I really am crazy," he muttered in a whisper.

"Together, we will traverse the 10 steps that will lead you to eternal rest." Your arm moved awkwardly up and down. What a stupid choreography your boss had given you. "Although," you stepped out of character. "Sometimes they are doors, and it seems that will be the case this time."

"Who are you?" He asked out of nowhere, and you swallowed hard.

"Your guide."

"Are you some kind of… Goddess? Are you God?"

You laughed, partly embarrassed, partly genuinely amused.

"I'm just your guide."

Marc had to settle for your answer.

"Are you ready?"

"Can one be ready for something like this?"

You shook your head but gave him a resigned smile. You felt sorry for him, as well as for all those who passed through your hands, but at least you did your part by taking them to what you would never know.

You offered him your hand, and hesitantly, he took it.

The contact with his skin made you swear that your heart was beating again.

You took a slow step through the corridors of the psychiatric ward with him behind you, his fingers gradually clinging to you. This was the first time in a long time that Marc allowed himself to be afraid, even when his thoughts were divided between his desire to cling to life and, on the other hand, that 'finally' feeling that had been intoxicating him for the past 10 years, ever since Roro left.

A few minutes of walking, and you knew by pure intuition which was the first door.

Unfinished business.

The first scene was… Something.

No one likes to witness the way they died, but much less what happens afterward. Have you ever heard that the last sense you lose is your hearing? Marc could clearly hear Layla scream his name just after the gunshot.

Or at least, his body managed to register the sound because he didn't remember it, but you could clearly see the scene at this moment.

"You left something unfinished." Your voice was as gentle as you could make it as you surrounded his body on the ground.

A strange feeling overcame you as you watched the curly-haired girl kneel beside him.

Holding him, begging him to come back.

Not sadness or pity, as it usually happened; you felt… uncomfortable? Annoyed?

Marc released your hand to get closer, appreciating the scene up close, and you knew how much he wished to touch Layla when his hand moved in her direction, trying to get her attention.

"Layla?" He whispered, his voice broken, his attention focused solely on her. He didn't even look at his body, which was slowly giving in. He didn't realize how she cradled him between her cheeks and kissed his lips one last time just now.

Your stomach churned; fortunately, you had already forgotten when was the last time you had ingested something.

"Baby?" He asked louder, and you knew it was time to intervene.

"She can't hear you," you whispered from behind, only able to observe Marc's back. The way his body contracted and suffered from small spasms due to crying.

Isn't it curious how all those things become muscle memory? Your breathing shouldn't be a problem when you weren't in your physical body, yet these things still happened.

"What were you doing here?" Your gaze wandered through the darkness inside the pyramid, your steps careful as you approached the open tomb of God knows who. A disgusted expression appeared on your lips at the sight of the mummified corpse.

Everything was better when you pretended that maybe you didn't really look like this.

Marc gave an ironic laugh, still crying, but you decided to give him space.

"I was trying to save the world."

You scoffed. 'Well, to each their own,' you thought as your fingers traced the edge of the tomb.

Hopefully, they buried you in something nice and expensive too.

"This might hold you here; we still don't know what will happen next because it's very recent."

"No." He interrupted, still kneeling in front of himself.

It turns out that the last thing his body registered was the way Layla grabbed his chest, taking something that rested on it afterward. The girl stood up, still with a broken heart but doing her best not to collapse.

You recognized that expression quite well.

"She'll take care of it."

Everything around him became blurry, apparently, that was the point at which he stopped fighting.

Marc slowly got to his feet, his eyes red, and he sniffed repeatedly. If you had the chance, maybe you'd tell him that he didn't need to do that, nothing would come out of his nose.

He looked good, though, even after getting shot, he still seemed attractive.

The good thing is that you still had 9 different opportunities to make him stay with you, but there was still one question. What did the boss mean when she said there were 3? An administrative error or something like that?

"She'll figure it out," he sounded sure as he pressed his nose bridge and took deep breaths. "She'll fix it."

"Then this is closed." You shrugged. Over time, you learned which dead ones to trust and which not to. Maybe Marc wasn't so wrong.

Nine opportunities.

"Congratulations." You offered him your hand, and he took it again.

That had to mean something, right?

You didn't pay much attention to the way he looked back, as if that would give him one last look at Layla. She had been gone for a while now. In fact, in the world of the living, this had probably happened hours ago.

The good thing (for him) is that apparently, she hadn't died yet.

Well, for you too, so you wouldn't find her wandering around. Romances that not even death could separate were the worst.

No more was said as you guided him through the passageways of the old pyramids as if you were an expert archaeologist, or perhaps an amateur with a lot of free time. One step forward from both of you, and everything around him looked different.

Vengeance.

"I have to tell you now." The cold streets of New York made you feel alive, especially in the short skirt you were wearing. The breeze cooled your legs and tousled your hair.

This seemed more common, even in the seedy side of the city. Apparently, Marc had been a normal person occasionally in his life, not someone who went on pyramid expeditions for fun.

"You won't be able to get revenge on anyone by being here." You walked ahead, trying to find the next door. It wasn't worth wasting time on this. "Sometimes divine justice serves in your favor and takes care of them, but it's not worth staying for a trivial matter."

And you knew it well.

When Marc's silence seemed suspicious, you looked back.

His clothes had also changed; he was wearing a leather jacket and a rather peculiar cap. It was gray, and it fit him ridiculously well.

He looked at you with wide eyes, his hand still holding yours.

"Cariño?" That accent was new. Did Marc like to play someone else occasionally at night? It wouldn't surprise you from someone like him.

Weird, like you.

Different, perhaps.

"What am I doing here?"

"Oh no, are you one of those?" You confronted him, one hand still holding his, and the other going straight to his face. You opened one of his eyes wider with your fingers, and he stayed still.

Had he drunk too much the night before or something? Jake didn't experience these things, never.

He didn't lose track of time; he didn't dissociate or lose control of his body; he didn't forget, and he didn't sleep.

This didn't make sense, at least not for him.

"You are dead, Marc," your words made his stomach churn. "I'm guiding you, we're only on the second level." Vapor came out of your mouth as if it were freezing, and your body still had that natural warmth that one emits when they are alive.

He furrowed his brow, looking at you as if he were seeing a ghost.

Well, that's what he was doing, but when you're dead, you don't have the right to see other dead people like this.

"I'm not… I'm not Marc."

Oh.

The boss's words made a bit more sense now. So, were they really brothers? Twins perhaps? Or whatever they were called when they were three.

The poor guy seemed about to have a crisis, very similar to Marc when you first found him.

"Jake Lockley." Your mind clicked, as it always did when you had these encounters with the souls you guided. A hazard of the job, there were things you knew and things you didn't.

He nodded slowly.

"Listen, sweetheart." He slowly released your hand, and the gesture didn't please you. I mean, if you couldn't keep Marc, maybe it could be one of the other two.

"I don't know what kind of joke you're playing," he walked past you while searching in his pocket for what seemed to be keys. "You're beautiful, and maybe we had a pretty fun night, but it's likely that what we have won't work, especially when you're calling me by another name and trying to play those little mind games with me, which, by the way, don't affect me in the least…"

Jake bumped into someone as he moved away from you clumsily.

"Sorry," he muttered, still confused. The other person ignored him, but when he looked back, his eyes widened in surprise. "¿Qué mierda?" You heard him mumble as he stumbled, sitting on the pavement.

Turns out Jake had bumped into himself.

And you suppressed the 'I told you so' smile.

"See?" You watched him pass you as well, and after a few seconds, you decided to approach him, extending your hand.

He looked at it in silence before taking it and getting to his feet.

"You're not playing, right?"

"Nope," you let go of his hand as you inspected his face. He looked so similar to Marc, yet so different at the same time.

"Are we dead?"

"I'm a little deader than you, but yes."

He bit his lower lip, and you saw him take off his cap and run a hand through his disheveled curls, more out of desperation than aesthetics.

He took a deep breath several times, more than you could count, and looked back. You saw the other Jake moving away in the crowd, and without saying anything, you turned to follow him without losing track.

Jake had to snap out of his crisis to follow you.

And him.

"Is that it? Are you not going to give me an explanation?" He hurriedly walked, doing his best not to bump into anyone until he realized that no one seemed to be affected by his shoves, not even moving them.

"We can't lose sight of you."

"This has to be a bad dream."

Maybe you liked Marc more than him.

"It's not a dream, Jake." You let out a deep sigh as you continued walking behind him. "You died, Marc did too, and…"

"Steven?"

"Right."

You finally turned to look at him when Jake from his memory stopped in front of a car.

It was a nice car.

"I still don't know what happened to you and Steven, but Marc got shot right…" You touched the center of his chest, and he didn't show how your touch made him shiver. "Here."

He wasn't sure if it was worth explaining to you right now that if Marc died, he would drag them both down with him.

"And who are you?"

"Your guide." You gave up; you would have to go through this again.

"Are you a product of my imagination?"

"Unfortunately not."

"Why do you look like one of my one-night stands?"

"I look like this all the time, actually," you looked down; this outfit was terribly uncomfortable. "Except for the criminally short skirt."

The sound of the door made you look forward. Apparently, the other Jake got into the car when you were distracted.

You opened the rear door of the car and looked at the confused guy in front of you.

"Get in."

And he obeyed; you got in afterward.

They were silent for most of the way, neither of you knew exactly where you were going because Jake had vague memories of this particular memory, if that made sense.

He had traveled this same road so many times for the same purpose that this could be any day of his life.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Your voice broke the silence, pulling him out of his thoughts.

"I was interrogating some guys in Cairo."

Ah, well, it seemed that he was just as strange as Marc.

"I see."

Jake somehow saw himself as the most stable of the three; he had learned to deal with the blows of life that he was forced to take to protect Marc and Steven from them.

But nothing had prepared him for the idea of failing them.

For failing them so horribly.

If he kept thinking, he'd go crazy. Even more.

You didn't know how long you had been here; everything seemed more tedious when Jake decided he didn't want to chat with you, or anyone, for that matter.

You assumed it was shock or something similar, and as for what this scenario meant, you understood why revenge wouldn't retain him.

Because Jake got rid of everyone who got in his way. To him or to Marc.

Both of you watched him drive, dispose of bodies, clean his clothes, and repeat as many times as necessary.

Well, he observed with a disgusted expression, and he took the liberty of covering your eyes with his hand. Well, it wasn't anything you hadn't seen before; apparently, the innocent face always gave the wrong impression.

The night ended with him crawling heavily to his apartment, tired, regretful, and often injured.

You looked at him beside you. Why did he seem so distraught by his own actions?

"So, can we cross revenge off your list?" You tried to joke when the expression on his face weighed on your chest. He didn't hear you; he kept looking at the path he had taken to the apartment.

If this was a divine way to make him regret his actions in life, it was quite functional, to be honest.

"And now?" His eyes fixed on you.

And you looked back at him.

"Do you still have the keys?" You pointed to the car.

He searched his pockets, and the keys jingled. Without saying anything, he opened the front passenger door for you to get in.

The gesture made you bite your lower lip to avoid smiling.

He got in afterward.

"Where are we going?" He started the car, and the roar of the engine added an extra note to the pain he was carrying at the moment.

He wasn't going to drive his car ever again?

Driving was the only thing that brought him peace, and the car was the only thing that belonged to him and only him. In fact, the vehicle was in his name, as was his driver's license. They were the only legal documents with Jake's name on them, even if it had cost him a fortune to bribe those in charge to get them without having to present any other proof that there was nothing suspicious behind them.

They were the only proof that Jake was real.

"I don't know, you'll feel it when we get there," you murmured without bothering to roll up the window; you just let the breeze hit you as the car started moving.

He didn't believe you, but apparently you weren't lying, his instinct was guiding him through the empty and dark streets of New York.

His home.

After a few minutes, Jake took a moment to look at you while you seemed completely absorbed in the detailed memories of Jake, who seemed to have even memorized the signs that adorned the streets he was driving through.

"What are you?" The question sounded a bit more offensive than he would have liked.

"Your guide."

"Are you sure you're not some kind of fantasy of mine?"

Was he flirting with you or insulting you? Either way, you smiled.

"None of that," you cleared your throat and finally looked at him. "I'm at the point where you are right now, and I'm staying here."

Should he inquire further, or were manners no longer as necessary when you were dead?

"For how long?"

"Huh?"

"You seem to know a lot about this; how long have you been like this?"

The way you shrugged was enough of an answer for him.

You had to close your eyes for a few seconds when you realized the effect the question had on you. You usually didn't talk about yourself, especially not with the people you guided. They were always more concerned about themselves, and with good reason; the boss knew well what had happened to you, but having someone directly ask about the situation left a disgusting taste in your mouth.

"My dear."

"Huh?" You looked at him immediately, furrowing your brow.

"What?"

"Did you say something?"

"I didn't say anything." The most similar you came to a normal conversation began when Jake released the wheel for a few seconds, raising both hands to declare himself innocent of whatever you were accusing him of.

"I heard you."

"I didn't say anything, I swear on my… death, I guess." He ran a hand through his chest, furrowing his brow.

Even with a bad feeling, you smiled.

And he did too.

Things were more fun when you collected as many jokes as you could about being dead.

"Alright." Your head returned to its position against the seat, and your gaze returned to the outside.

Jake looked at you for a few extra seconds; he knew that smile well.

"I think I can get us out of here," he thought, hoping that Marc and Steven could hear him.

Strong emotions or feelings.

The movement of the car eventually stopped, and you could no longer feel the leather under your fingers; you recognized the grass immediately.

Your eyes were forced open when a couple of children ran past you, laughing and pushing each other. You were beginning to feel tired, even though you were less than halfway there.

You sighed, your body feeling heavy as you stood up.

A couple was enjoying a homemade BBQ, even though the clouds seemed threatening to ruin it.

"Jake? Marc?" You looked around.

Ah, there he was.

Near the children's mother, looking closely at her with a radiant smile. It wasn't difficult to guess that he was Steven; his messy hair and tired eyes didn't resemble the features of Marc or Jake. Well, they did, but not really. Does that make sense?

Finally, one of the three didn't look at you in fear or confusion.

"Oh Gods, hiya!" His accent made you smile, and you waved back in greeting, approaching him as he was only a few steps away.

"You must be Steven."

"And you must be my guide." As if it were a friendly arrangement, he extended his hand, and you shook it gently, enjoying the contact. "Jake explained to me."

Was there a gap between door and door that you didn't witness for them to have a chance to talk? Well, you'd ask later.

"You seem calm."

"I'm totally freaking out on the inside."

You laughed again and nodded. You liked Steven, you liked him more than the other two.

"What level is this?"

"Third." Your attention shifted to the couple next to you, the woman's huge brown eyes told you in seconds that she was the mother of the three.

That was something they had in common, those lost-puppy eyes.

"Strong emotions or feelings." You took a step closer to her, your eyes scanning her face for more familiarities among the triplets and her.

The little wrinkles at the edges of their eyes when they smiled also seemed to come from her. And the curls definitely came from their father.

"Well, I love my mom." He seemed just as distracted by the scene as you were.

You didn't mention that love, at this point, wasn't one of the emotions that could retain you.

The situation wasn't new to you; there was almost always a familiar memory here. You didn't count friends separately because time had shown you that friends were the family you chose; the lines blended easily in those cases.

Maybe this was the reason why you would stay with one of them, and with just 5 minutes exchanged, Steven seemed like a good choice.

The children ran by your side again, and Steven's attention was completely stolen by them. You tilted your head to the side with tenderness and a slight curiosity.

"They're not ready yet; you can go play for a while, understood?" The taller boy nodded, stopping right in front of his brother, who ended up crashing into him.

Both laughed.

"Is it you?" You pointed to the younger one.

Steven seemed as distant from the situation as you. He shook his head slowly before looking at you as if he wanted an explanation. It took him a few seconds to be able to murmur.

"I don't… I don't remember."

"Marc?" The woman called, causing an amusing scene between the two children, Steven, and you since everyone turned to look at her expectantly. "Take care of Roro, please."

Roro?

"Do you have another brother?" Your voice came out so low that not even poor Steven could hear it.

It was a silent agreement in the way you followed him while he continued to follow the children with his mind in a tangle of thoughts. Was this what Marc had been hiding so eagerly?

You could swear a shiver ran through you from head to toe when your eyes settled on the cave the two children were heading towards, and the thunderclap sealed the deal on the bad omens.

You had witnessed these scenes before. When someone was about to die, it always felt like this. Being sensitive to death was one of the quirks that came with the job.

"Steven?"

He didn't even look at you.

"Lads?"

No answer, obviously.

"It's… It's dangerous, they shouldn't…" He seemed to have lost his breath. "They are going to..."

And you nodded slowly.

"I know."

The small steps were only a few meters away from you as the rain intensified. Both you and Steven were getting wet.

"Let me…" He was never able to form a complete sentence. "I know I can…"

You knew he couldn't, but you still followed him into the cave.

You walked in darkness for a very short time, with "I want my mommy" echoing in your ears over and over again.

The cave seemed to end in the living room of what you guessed was their house. Both of you arrived dripping wet, Steven with red eyes after what he had just witnessed.

You were still wondering what role he played in all of this.

Had Marc's emotional burden somehow reached him? After all, he was also their brother, or at least it seemed like it.

You stopped abruptly when both encountered Steven's mother, hands on her hips, her cheeks red with anger. Steven jerked when she yelled the words, "This is all your fault."

Everything was happening too fast, even for you, who had learned the art of controlling the emotions of the moment. It was usually the boss who handled these kinds of situations.

You were never strong enough.

You moved past the scene, your hand learned to Steven's wrist as you directed him upstairs. He couldn't stop looking as he moved awkwardly, stumbling over his own feet.

"It's this way," you whispered, leading him into the room.

You sighed calmly when finally the silence enveloped you. Inside, one of the children was playing alone. The scene tugged at your heartstrings a little more, but hey, at least there was no one screaming.

"I must be remembering wrong," he whispered as a last hope while he sat on the floor, defeated. He took a seat in front of the child. "It must be Marc's doing."

You pursed your lips, deciding not to say anything as you watched his hands tremble. This kind of thing wasn't in the manual.

"Maybe so," you gave him false hope before knocks on the door diverted both of your attention.

"Open the damn door, Marc!"

Another shiver, as horrible as the first one.

"It's not my mom, it's not my mom," the child whispered, covering his hands. Steven and you could do nothing but watch.

"Open this door!" More loud pounding.

More knocks, more panic, more fear.

Until the voice of the kid made you look again.

"Bloody hell! Look at the state of this place." His little eyes focused on a bunch of Legos in front of him. They weren't even scattered. "Better sort it out before mum sees it." His accent was the same as… Steven's.

"Marc! Open this door right now!"

Witnessing that was enough to clear your doubts; you weren't foolish. After your death, no one could really receit you. Your brain easily connected the dots, and apparently, Steven's did too; he had more clues than you did up to that point.

They weren't brothers.

Marc, Steven, and Jake shared the same body.

"When danger is near," Steven narrowed his eyes as he read from the poster on the wall above the child, "Steven Grant has no fear."

He took a deep breath through his mouth with heaviness.

"He made me up." That was the next thing he said, and you couldn't help but watch the child as he organized his Legos.

The door burst open with a shove, and that was your next cue; it was time to get out of there.

"Steven?"

Wendy, whom you had been referring to as 'the mother,' entered the room, her eyes red, and an aroma of alcohol that even you could sense.

"You are going to learn…" She took Marc's belt, the one that hung next to his toys. It was a horrible parallel, and you could swear your chest hurt. "to listen."

Her steps were slow as she coiled the belt in her hand.

"Steven?" You whispered, pushing him in the chest. He stood on tiptoe to get a better view of the scene.

"I wanna see what she did." He mumbled with difficulty.

You gave him another push with all your might.

"Steven, we have to go."

"Let me see what she did." That was the last thing he said before you slammed the door shut, muffling the poor child's cries of pain inside the room.

"I don't hate her." It was the only thing he could say after what seemed like hours. The sun seemed to have set.

You nodded slowly, your head resting against the door just like his.

"I know."

"She was sad."

You had to swallow the urge to tell him that it didn't justify what she did, but you chose to nod and offer him some peace.

"She was."

There were a few more seconds of silence before you murmured, "We have to go."

He nodded and was the first to stand up, intending to offer you his hand, just as you had done with Jake a while ago. You took his hand and stood up, but you didn't let go of his hand.

You descended the stairs slowly; the house suddenly seemed filled with people. Apparently, this wasn't over yet, and you started to seriously think that Steven wouldn't get out of here. How much more could his heart take?

Everything seemed blurry, although of course, you didn't know that the reason behind it was that Marc had never entered the house that day; the memory was clouded by a window in between.

"What happened here?" He whispered behind you.

"Your mom, Steven."

Her photo was on one of the tables, behind two long candles.

"Don't talk nonsense." He took a few steps forward to see what you were seeing. "My mom and I already sorted this out; it must have been something that ha- happened." They were all wearing black clothes around him. "in the past." He completed in a whisper.

You looked at him again, his eyes filled with tears as he shook his head.

"No, no, this can't…" He swallowed hard, making your own throat ache in response. "Marc would have told me."

You doubted it, but it wasn't the time to remind him that Marc seemed to be hiding many things from him.

"No, this can't be happening." He mumbled, again losing his ability to string sentences together.

Breaking your heart once again. The front door of the house opened in front of both of you, and you understood that it was time to move on.

Without saying anything, you tapped his shoulder, getting his attention. You pointed to Marc outside the house, just a few meters away, drinking from his flask with teary eyes.

"Marc?" He whispered to himself as he moved awkwardly and quickly towards him, leaving the house with you behind.

You decided to give him space; his memory allowed you to stroll through a couple of nearby gardens, and you waited on the grass while Steven processed the moment when Marc finally broke down.

Kneeling on the pavement, his body tense until the English accent of the other became noticeable in the way he spoke to himself.

The place was getting darker, and after a few hours, you sat on the sidewalk, watching the scene from afar. Steven had the opportunity to digest the situation as much as he could, and although for any normal person this would have been the end, you knew this wasn't the point for Steven.

He was understanding, strong within his sensitivity, and he knew how to deal with things that Marc couldn't.

You finally understood the feeling he was facing and what he was releasing.

Grief.

The grief of losing his mother as a child, and the grief of losing her again as an adult. His brother, his father.

The grief of losing himself while trying to understand that he wasn't 'the original' but Marc.

Meanwhile, as the crying finally subsided, Steven was talking to himself. Or so it seemed, because no one else (meaning you) could hear the voices of Jake and Marc arguing with him. "I know how to get us out of here." "Jake, we're not going to harm her." They didn't have to say more for Steven to understand that they were referring to you. "I'm just saying it might be an easy job." "Are you suggesting we kill someone who's already dead? You've truly outdone yourself." "At least I'm looking for a solution, unlike you, Mr. 'resigned.'" "We can't leave Layla alone," Steven whispered, his gaze fixed on you in the distance. "See? Steven's on my side." Marc rolled his eyes. "And what do you want to do?" "I'm just saying… if there's a way out of here, she's the one who knows it."

Meanwhile, when the imaginary crickets began to resonate through Marc's blurry memory, Steven returned to you.

"Hey?" You looked at him, who knows how long you had had your eyes closed. "Can we continue?"

You nodded and gave him a small smile.

"Let's move on."

Mk's tag list :)@ninebluehearts @icreatedthisat317am @onefinnedwonder-fm @shousha133

[vi-sigoth]

Watching the most recent interview with Ellen/Eliot Page makes me so fucking ill that I don’t have any jokes left in me about her appearance. I just feel like crying when I look at her. Juno came out when I was in high school, and a lot of people told me then, and continued to tell me, when I was in my early 20s, that I looked like her. I don’t think we bear a huge resemblance to each other but we could be related, maybe cousins or half-sisters, and we both presented sort of quasi-androgynous, not butch at all but not extremely feminine either, and we have very similar low-timbred voices and I had and still have kind of weird, off beat humor, sorta like the character that Page played in Juno. I don’t think we looked like each other more so than my general demeanor and mannerisms sort of reminded people of Page. I always took it as a compliment. Ellen was very pretty to me. I was a fellow flat-chested, low-voiced brunette, someone that a lot wouldn’t consider, looks-wise, a feminine bombshell knockout. And that was devastating to me when I was younger. I hated my perceived ugliness. Hated my flat chest. Hated being tall and having a low voice. Hated all the jokes made about me when I was in music school about how I was “a man” (I have a low mezzo-soprano singing voice and can sing contralto roles pretty easily too). As I left my teens and then my 20s behind, I gradually started to like the way I looked. I started developing my own personal clothing style that was flattering to my body. I started not caring if others didn’t like my appearance. So some guy got insecure because I was taller than him? His loss. Some guy didn’t want to date me because of my tiny A-cups? Good, I don’t want to be with someone that shallow anyway. A lot of men thought I was too weird? I am weird and I’m not about to stop being weird anytime soon. My husband loves the way I look, and the way I am, and that’s good enough for me. And I learned, even as I became more conservative and traditional in my leanings, that the TERF girls are really correct: there is no wrong way to present as a women. A butch lesbian with a shaved head that wears nothing but cargo shorts and t-shirts is just as much of a woman as the girl who loves 1950s fashion and rolls her hair every night and applies makeup every morning.

But I don’t think Ellen got to have that realization. I think Ellen grew up as a child actor, suffered grooming, abuse, and the casting couch (she said as much in her memoir) and then suffered years of cultural grooming and brainwashing from Hollywood and leftist media that tells women that they are either Kardashians or men, and there is no nuance and no in-between anymore. Look like an inhuman bimboid sex doll freak like Kylie Jenner, or just simply, quit participating in it, and become a sexless object. Ellen Page has allowed a doctor to cut off her breasts, and she now exists in a bizarre state of not being a woman, but not resembling a man either. Her voice is bizarre and uncanny, coming from vocal cords too thick for a female throat. If she continues taking testosterone, she will have joint problems, as her muscles continue to grow too big for her 5’1 frame. She will be at a massively increased risk for liver failure and heart problems. Her vagina will possibly atrophy so much, that it will be impossible for her to have any sort of penetrative sex at all.

I laughed along with everyone else at that absurd picture of her at the Met Gala a few years back, but it’s not funny to me anymore. She looks like a lost little girl, wearing clothing not meant for her, that don’t fit her. That never will.

[bi-hop]

my thoughts on rgu ep 3

we're baaaack! my previous posts are all now under my rgu liveblog tag

lord, here we go with the extended recaps even though it's only episode 3-

it's interesting how memory is being played with here with Utena. such a formative moment is reduced to a strange fairy tale, a piece of gossip with faceless characters. the only proof of it is vague recollections paired with a single physical piece of evidence: the ring. but said ring is also associated with other elements of the world that she is still not fully privy to... just hm

the running gag of Utena being like "you need a friend" and Chu Chu being like "?" and Anthy being like "?" amuses me but also doesn't... can't put my finger on why though so I'm just gonna note it down and circle back to it

the Utena-sama stuff is funny. like, oh, okay, it's fine when girls are admiring you from a distance because you can write it off as a joke, but a girl insisting she's engaged to you and referring to you reverently is when you're finally like "actually I desire men, I totally want to date a boy, the masculinity has nothing to do with being gay, I want a NORMAL BOY" OADJODSJODS OKAY SURE UTENA

Girl, you claim to want to date a guy and then a guy flirts with you and you're immediately like "let's keep it platonic, dude". alright-

^ NOT AT ALL IMPLYING ATTRACTION TO DUDES MEANS YOU'RE RECEPTIVE TO ALL ADVANCES. just kinda funny immediately following a scene where she's like "erm actually I'm totally straight! I am a heterosexual!!!"

"is the prince bi too. did he kiss all of the duelists orrrr..." - riveting commentary from the girlfriend. I have no stance on this, I just think he seems like a creep

communication? in MY anime? it's far less likely than you'd think. (Touga is annoying but what else is new)

the council finally clueing in to the fact that Utena is not in fact in contact with End of the World (whoever THAT is). Saionji is also hiding or something? good fucking riddance

Anyway, I think the use of a prince as the model Utena bases her appearance on and also simultaneously the vague object of her desire is compelling in a compulsory heterosexuality narrative because it's a perfect analogue to how some lesbians I know would simply invent an idealized guy to project feelings onto due to the insistence of heterosexuality as a regime that a girl MUST desire a man. the easiest man to desire is the one you only vaguely remember from your childhood and have no real chance of meeting-

can everyone just leave Anthy alone????

Nanami looks nice, but I've watched too many shows with blonde mean girls to trust that she really has Anthy's best interests at heart...

circling back to the girls and how they treat Anthy (which includes Wakaba of course because Wakaba is meant to be a window into what the other girls are thinking IMO), there's this continual theme of everyone viewing Anthy as like... this seductress almost who is ruining the lives of boys like Saionji over nothing. She's 'shameless', she's a 'creep', whole time she's being abused and treated as an object. the relatable brown woman of color experience, I fear

Touga: I don't care about Utena. I care about a feminized fantasy of her I have in my head, even though my attraction to her started with how she regularly dresses. This is because I can fix her aesthetic-

Anthy and her social anxiety... man... just let her sit in the dorm and play cards with Chu Chu

and sure enough, Nanami sabotages her out of misdirected jealousy. girl, you need to be freed of the idea that girls are competition for your brother's affection. also, you need to kill your brother. you will do this for me and become a feminist-

I'm not surprised that the retaliation against Anthy is called a prank that maaaybe went too far. I'm especially not surprised this commentary is directed towards a moment of sexual violence. ty to Utena for intervening

gay people be dancing on loop... that is all

fun episode! much to chew on! on to the next

[writingpracticetime]

Did you have any thoughts, story-wise, on what Sandy herself thinks of all this and what her circumstances are? There are of course the inferences that can be made from that letter she got sent (and more specifically that it was turned over unopened) but is/was she in the public eye? Is she kept under close observation in case Constructor/Architect tries to approach her directly, and so on?

Oh I absolutely do have story thoughts about Sandy's opinions on everything. But the trouble with Sandy is--

————————————

Excerpts from recordings of meetings between the Architect and various associates.

————————————

CYBERSCOUT

--and, sorry, remind me why we care?

CONSTRUCTOR

We need to try to anticipate the general public objections to this. We won't be able to avoid them, not when we're going to be breaking so many laws. But we can at least anticipate them and get our own narrative out in advance. 

HOBBES

I don't think you get the question. We're villains. Why are we tiptoeing around "public objections?"

CONSTRUCTOR

Because, this is ultimately for the public. We need to try and get out the word about how people are asking for our help, so people know we're responding to their needs. Besides, we can’t accomplish anything for the public without the public. Like Sandy said.

CYBERSCOUT

Who?

CONSTRUCTOR

My--nevermind. Anyway, as I said, let me try to figure things out with Lethe for a minute.

CYBERSCOUT

Alright, alright. I needed to head out anyway, just call me when you have an idea of what shit you want me to spread online.

(Shuffling, people leaving and closing the door behind them.) 

CONSTRUCTOR

So you should have a better idea of what people are going to say to all of this. (Pause) Lethe?

LETHE

Sandy...? Cassandra White?

CONSTRUCTOR

You know her?! (Pause) Wait, then--what does she think about me now? Has she--

LETHE

Oh, u-uh no, sorry. I haven't--I never met her, never stood close enough to read her mind certainly. I-I wouldn't know what she thinks about you.

CONSTRUCTOR

...Oh.

LETHE

I just... heard a lot about her.

CONSTRUCTOR

...Funny. Not many people have.

LETHE

Yeaaaaah, um.

——————————

Blog post by Edward Katzenberger, journalist. Later removed and found on wayback.archive.org.

——————————

WHO IS CASSANDRA WHITE?

So, my long term followers all know about my hilariously derailed profile of Constructor assigned shortly before the stadium incident. I’ve kept you all abreast of the many, many delays related to high security super prisons and then my subject running off to start a supervillain career. Because of course, the second I get assigned this extremely exciting personality piece, Constructor becomes completely unreachable.

Alright, well, you might not believe me, but Constructor's manager/agent turned out to be even harder to reach.

At the time, I decided to take the "Frank Sinatra Has a Cold" approach and paint a portrait of Constructor based on the testimonies of coworkers, friends and family. I then found out that I could get testimonies from construction workers and urban planners about what the hero was like to work with (largely positive, if saddened by the recent turn of events) but nothing on what this incredibly beloved figure was like as a friend or family member.

The one thing I kept hearing from everyone was "Cassandra White would know more. The two of them seemed really close."

Now there was a problem: I couldn't find out who the fuck Cassandra White was.

———————————

BONFIRE

You got a--Oh, sorry. Working on something right now?

CONSTRUCTOR

Not work. I'm just-- (sounds of paper, flipping and folding it as Bonfire gets close) Just writing something.

BONFIRE

Writing...?

CONSTRUCTOR

Just scrawling out some thoughts, I guess.

LETHE

Mm. (Quiet) What are you both looking at me for?!

CONSTRUCTOR

What was that about?

LETHE

What was what about??

BONFIRE

Something about the writing...?

LETHE

Nothing! Nothing about the writing. I was just, I was making a noise. Thinking about something else, hahaha.

BONFIRE

.....What is it?

CONSTRUCTOR

Nothing! ... Lethe.

LETHE

I'm sorry! Don't be mad at me!

CONSTRUCTOR

I'm not mad! That was just--that was private.

BONFIRE

What was private?

LETHE AND CONSTRUCTOR

Nothing!

CONSTRUCTOR

(After a pause) ...I was just writing to Sandy again.

BONFIRE

(Irritated, sizzling noise) Ah, right. Sandy.

CONSTRUCTOR

See! This is why I didn't want to tell you.

BONFIRE

I don't see why you couldn't--

LETHE

Leaving! I'm leaving!

————————

It turns out Cassandra White was Constructor’s agent. I try to look her up online and? Nothing. No facebook profile, no personal website, not even a LinkedIn. 

That has to be odd for someone who works in PR, right?

I do a little searching to find the agents of other superheroes. I contacted one, and got an interview. I've lost the thread of trying to piece together Constructor's life but I'm curious dammit. I mention the issue I've had with finding her anywhere. He nods his head while I explain the wild goose chase I've been on.

"Well, White is a whole other ballgame," he says. "She took her privacy seriously, and I'm also pretty sure she scrubbed a lot of her history. She was meticulous about records--knowing names in media, tech, and various public archives who could help you scrub a dumb tweet before it snowballed into a PR crisis for your client."

"You can get rid of internet records?"

"Well, not easily. And not after people realize they're important, that's for sure," he said. "I once told her things on the internet are forever. She said, 'No. If people pay attention, then they're forever. But if no one cares in the first place, then it never existed at all.'"

"So there was a process she used to make sure people's images stayed clean," I said, "And she used the same process to make herself a ghost?"

"I imagine so. I mean, she's retired from being an agent and has her fingers in all sorts of other pies these days. Businesses, investments, politics. Plus, I imagine becoming a billionaire or whatever has made her priorities shift."

Billionaire. I think I almost choked on my coffee. "You can become a billionaire from being a PR agent?"

"You can't," he said. "But White did."

—————————

DOC

--nd now that we got that patched up, this is the part where you tell my why the fuck the police caught you anyway.

CONSTRUCTOR

Uhh... Dunno. Not sure how they found me.

DOC

Where did they track you down?

CONSTRUCTOR

Um... I'm not feeling up for this conversation right now.

HOBBES

It was that new square in York XIV that looks like a Whole Foods staged a violent invasion.

DOC

....okay, is there a reason you decided to be wandering alone around in an area with shit ton of white moms ready to call the police on your ass?

CONSTRUCTOR

....Yeah, I was alone because I thought everyone here would tell me not to go. (Sigh) Look, I'm not gonna–

CYBERSCOUT

(poking head in) The Whole Foods place? Oy, isn't that where that old chick you're stalking has a house?

CONSTRUCTOR 

I'm not--I was delivering a letter.

HOBBES

 ....wait a minute, I remember this. "Sandy" right? Your mom? The one who turned you into the FBI?

CONSTRUCTOR

She's not my mom. (Pause) And no, she turned in my letter--which she would have to, if she was being monitored. I thought if I--

CYBERSCOUT

Wasn't she also a racist? Wasn't that a whole fight you had with Bonfire?

HOBBES

(Judgmental) You act all woke and then you go and try to be friends a racist who lives in the Whole Foods district.

CONSTRUCTOR

She's not a--That's not what the fight--this is why I went alone!

———————

This conversation afforded me with a lot of more information which I am saving for a piece on the lives of superhero PR agents, which I am now utterly fascinated by. Regarding Cassandra White, the other significant info it afforded me was that Cassandra White does in fact have a twitter account that I missed in my earlier search.

I looked into it. It's the most inoffensive twitter account I've ever seen. It feels like it was generated on a factory belt. There is a headshot of an older white woman--Cassandra White herself, it seems--as the profile pic. She tweets very rarely herself, and instead seems to mostly retweet news updates and positive platitudes or quotes from historical figures. The tweets she does make are all of an extremely inoffensive liberal variety, with the spiciest being one gentle snipe at the Republican party.

There is one other hint of her personality on this twitter. It’s an unexpected photo from inside her home, one with a quick caption that says she regularly uses a whiteboard to write out her resolutions and thoughts, and that she finds the process to clarify her goals and values. 

It reads:

IT WILL BE DONE QUIETLY.  IT WILL BE DONE CIVILLY.  IT WILL BE DONE RIGHT–OR IT WON’T BE DONE AT ALL. 

—————————

CONSTRUCTOR

Alright, alright. We can talk more about this tomorrow but for now tell them no more death matches and any blood feuds need to be put on hold when they enter this fortress.

HOBBES

(Grunts) Pussy move.

CONSTRUCTOR

I don't care if it's a pussy move.

CYBERSCOUT

Ahem--what if I made the point that you're being culturally insensitive by imposing your mainstream standards of civility on a subculture of people, villains, who have their own values in how they deal with conflict, and--

CONSTRUCTOR

I know you bet on the fights and you're not changing my mind.

CYBERSCOUT

No fun. (sigh) Lethe, I TOLD you not to snitch on me!

LETHE

I didn't!

CONSTRUCTOR

Anyway, we can figure out a more long term solution for dealing with serious vendettas but for now--I'm tired. I have something else I need to work on. Tell them not to kill each other.

HOBBES

What are you writing that's more important than a potential deathmatch, anyway?

CONSTRUCTOR

Nothing. Just-- (Shuffling of papers) leave me to it for tonight. I don't want to set a precedent where I rush over every time someone wants to kill someone else, because given the personalities here that would mean never having any time.

CYBERSCOUT

Fiiiiiiiine.

(Grumbling and footsteps as people shuffle out, followed by writing noises.)

LETHE

Hey.

CONSTRUCTOR

What? (Pause) You know what I'm doing.

LETHE

The last time you tried to deliver something….

CONSTRUCTOR

I'll send someone else to deliver it.

(More scribbling. Deep breath.)

LETHE

I lied. I read her mind. She doesn't care about you.

(Writing stops. After a slight pause, there is the sound of paper crinkling and Lethe gasps and steps back.)

LETHE

Don’t be mad at me!

CONSTRUCTOR 

(Deep, strained breath) I’m not mad. You're just wrong.

LETHE

I could literally read her mind!

CONSTRUCTOR

Okay, you're not wrong.  You're lying.

LETHE

What? I'm not!

CONSTRUCTOR

(Fuming) You think I'm an idiot just because I haven't been calling you out on it? Everyone here knows you lie about what your powers show you whenever it suits your purposes.

LETHE

(Wobbly) I--I don't have a reason to lie about this!

CONSTRUCTOR

You don't have a reason that I know. But you are such a fucking liar. No one in the fortress trusts a thing you say, and you know it. 

LETHE

Th-that's not--That's not relevant! Oh my god, you're literally never going to even consider this, a-are you? That she was just using you for the cut of your paycheck, making her fortune...

CONSTRUCTOR

I'm not going to re-evaluate a decade long perception of a loved one based on the words of a known liar, Lethe. Get out.

LETHE

But--

(Rumbling, cracking of the floor.)

CONSTRUCTOR

I said get out!

———————————

The twitter account confirms she exists and nothing else. I couldn't tell you what the woman thinks about anything. On a website people use to blast their opinions to the world at all hours, this one seems specifically built to deny the existence of any individual opinions or personality. 

I scrolled all the way back to the time period during which Constructor would have had the big public meltdown at the stadium. I used the wayback machine to see if there were any deleted tweets, just in case she said anything in a fit of frustration or grief and deleted it.

But during the time where she would have been watching Constructor's breakdown, a time when everyone in the world had something to say about what Constructor had done--nothing.

Cassandra White, Constructor's closest person, had nothing to say about them at all.

[hell-raven]

absurdly long tangent/analysis

EDIT FROM THE FUTURE: this isn't to dissuade anyone from interpreting the canon as they want i just wanted to share my personal opinions based on the preexisting canon that may or may not be very passionate, please just have fun do whatever you want none of this is fact

i really hate how utsuho is flanderized to death and constantly boiled down to "the dumb bird girl" because if you actually sit down and Read her dialogue instead of relying on secondhand information you learn quite a few things about her (when i say this is absurdly long i mean it so keep reading at your own risk)

extrapolating from her own dialogue:

she actually wanted to blow everything up in th11 for real and it wasnt just a "hehe whoops" kind of thing. she was bestowed an extremely powerful ability and deliberately wanted to use it to cause destruction/take over gensokyo

she is extremely knowledgeable about her ability and job (anything related to nuclear power and regulating the flames of blazing hell, or just things about former hell itself)

she takes her job very seriously and supposedly does it very well

but there are a few things that get people: she has poor memory, other characters refer to her as "birdbrained" or "empty-headed, and there are a select few instances of dialogue from hisouten/gouyoku ibun that catch peoples attention. its one of those things where because other characters (and people) say shes stupid, it influences everyone else! in my opinion, i think her own actions straight from the source are much more indicative of who she is rather than the quick judgements of other characters.

=======================

the first major point before i get into the specific dialogue in the fighting games: "kanako needed an empty-headed hell raven, and utsuho fit the bill"

what exactly is meant by "empty-headed"? this is going to be more of an abstraction, so definitely take it with a grain of salt. we dont know much about utsuho before she gained her powers, just that she worked as a lowly hell raven that helped around the palace of the earth spirits/hell. to me, it sounds like an incredibly mind-numbing job that really doesnt require much thinking to begin with, so of course you wouldn't expect some kind of supergenius from it. im also going to go out on a limb and say that utsuho was a candidate for kanako's plan because she's also considered a pet. many unfortunately conclude that pets can't be intelligent, and even the title of "pet" carries the connotation of inferiority. even if she was truly empty-headed as previously suggested, this doesn't mean that she stayed as such with no change at all. when i first played th11, i would have never guessed that she would be "the stupid one".

small note: ZUN's comment on her theme ("even a fool that possesses great power can't cause too much harm")

the problem i have with this is that she really would have caused a lot of harm if the protagonists hadn't stopped her. you could say shes a fool for letting the power get to her head, but objectively i cant exactly point to anything in th11's dialogue/scenarios that suggests she's foolish unless you really want to count bad memory-retention as such. not gonna argue this too hard, but it seems like "fool" is a word thrown around very freely with little thought to how you can actually apply it to a situation.

=======================

IN HISOUTEN: sanae beats her up and afterwards says "youre trying to help me, actually" to which utsuho is like "Oh Ok". you could argue this is probably her dumbest moment, but would you really not follow or listen to the person who defeated you in battle? its not the most defensible point, but she didnt even seem completely oblivious either when she was asking sanae about the incident. my personal interpretation is that she has a bit of a short temper related to how important her job is. there are plenty of other 2hus who are generally sillier than this, it doesnt make much sense why utsuho is the only one who gets this treatment.

IN GOUYOKU IBUN: utsuho doesnt notice reimu before she starts blasting her to bits, which to be fair reimu wears all red in Hell (her fault honestly) + correct me if im wrong but is the power of nuclear fusion not extremely blinding? supporting this, in the events of GI its also implied that shes being overworked due to the oil incident, and we already established that she takes her job very seriously, so to me it makes sense that her first thought is to "remove the contaminant" and to use a lot of her energy in the process. a lot of people in general sometimes get wrapped up in their own work to the point of hyperfocusing, i say the bird can do it too

i also havent brought up the fact that we dont exactly know wtf eating a god does to your brain, whos to say it didnt fuck with you a little bit?

past all of this though i still think utsuho is funny as hell with her particularly bold and uncaring personality, its just that people seem to think that a couple of goofy moments make up her whole character and its just mildly annoying to me.. subterranean animism will probably be my favorite portrayal of utsuho because of how seriously they all treat her (mostly) but overall i wish more touhou fans would actually indulge in the source material and think a bit deeper about this neat little piece of fiction that i am WAY too passionate about (also its just way more fun to look at characters from a complex perspective)

[creat0r-cat]

Iplier Egos Head Cannon - What Song in "Encanto" Did They Get Emotional During?

Darkiplier

Surface Pressure

Deep down he really does care about his “brothers”

He thinks he needs to keep up the tough guy act to make them think he isn’t afraid

He is

He REALLY is

He’s worried about the space/time continuum, keeping order, and making sure the ipliers’ existence stays a secret

He tries not to let the others see the tears that involuntarily start to fall as Louisa sings about her struggles as the strongest sister

Wilford

He probably heard all of the songs before watching the movie

He wouldn’t really cry for any of them in particular (feeling that he doesn’t necessarily relate to any of them)

However

He would look at certain egos to watch their reactions during different songs

He would notice the small things that happen and slowly learn more about his “brothers” based on the musical numbers and their lyrics

After the movie, he’d probably go and visit the egos that had the worst reactions (who got the most emotional or those who would straight up leave the room)

He did get a little bothered listening to “Dos Oruguitas” though

He didn’t get emotional per say

But watching Pedro die with the love song in the background kinda reminded him of when he lost Celine

Fortunately, he opted not to dwell on it too much

Actor

Waiting On A Miracle

This boy is INSECURE because of his breakup with Celine

Is he good enough?

Has he done enough?

Is he really worthy of anything?

He wants to be better

He wants his life to be better

But everything seems to slip through his fingers, coming back to resent him later on

He just wants someone to open their eyes and see that he’s worth their time, even if that person is Dark

Mirabel dancing on screen, singing about how she wished to be noticed as part of the family, made Actor tear up, wiping them away before someone could see them

Eventually, it got to be too much (especially seeing how Mirabel was pushed away by her family after trying to help them) and he left the room, using the excuse of getting more snacks

As soon as he entered the kitchen, he had a silent breakdown

Googleplier

Surface Pressure

I can’t really hear Louisa sing “I’m pretty sure I’m worthless if I can’t be of service” without thinking about Google and his first objective

Yes, his secondary objective is relatively important, but the first one is.. Well it’s his PRIMARY objective

If he can’t do anything other than hurt people, then what is the point of him being there?

His optics widen and his mechanical heart speeds up

“How do you feel?” survey pops up and he clicks on one

“I’m in this picture and I don’t like it”

Bingiplier

What Else Can I Do?

He’s imperfect

That’s all I really need to say, but I’ll continue

He’s always compared to Google and he knows deep down that he’s worth more than his search bar abilities

He doesn’t want to be perfect like Google

He just wants to be himself, which is hard when everyone is always doting on him for every mistake he makes

Isabella creating spiky plants and beautiful flowers in front of him makes his optics widen and he slowly smiles, feeling an odd mixture of happiness and sadness as he watches her accept her imperfections in spite of her family’s expectations

Dr. Iplier

He doesn’t really get emotional during the songs

However

When it’s revealed that Bruno has been shunned by his family because of his gift, he smiled sadly

“How unfortunate,” he thought, “for someone to be abandoned because of something uncontrollable and never be spoken of again for fear of taboo”

He’s seen patients in the hospital who never have anyone visit them

He always feels sad when he finds out that someone has been abandoned

He secretly makes trips to animal shelters for that reason, to visit the abandoned animals and give them some love

He gets happy again when Bruno is reunited with his loved ones who welcome him back with open arms

Yandereplier 

Dos Oruguitas

He wouldn’t relate to any of the English songs enough to have a real reaction

He gets emotional during certain parts of the movie because he recognizes a lot of what’s going on in the Madrigal family (Toxic family roles and stuff like that)

He feels bad for the characters (especially Mirabel and Bruno)

But when “Dos Oruguitas” starts playing and we find out the heartbreaking truth behind Abuelo Pedro’s death

WHOOOO BOY the tears start FLOWING

He hates to imagine the pain Abuela went through, losing the love of her life

Yandere, being a very romantic man, can’t stand the thought of his own senpai leaving him

Like, she’s everything to him!

He’d become very protective of her after watching this movie, afraid of anyone taking her away from him

He’s fine with the movie though, loves the music for the most part

Yancy

Friggin ALL OF THE SONGS

He loves music and finds each of them so amazing

He also kinda relates to each of the English sung songs in their own way (except “We Don’t Talk About Bruno”)

WOAM: The want to be extraordinary and help others

SP: The need to be the tough one and look out for his fellow prisoners and weaker “brothers”

WECAD: The want to live life how he wants without being the picture perfect civilian that the world wants him to be

He thinks very highly of this movie and loves it to bits

He does eventually become frustrated with how often “We Don’t Talk About Bruno” gets sung by people both online and in real life

Like, he gets that it’s a catchy song, but still, give it a break

Illinois

Waiting On A Miracle

Yes, Illinois is a special adventurous and flirtatious boy 

But not everything is really as it seems with him

His whole “Everyone falls in love with me” act is a facade

He’s trying to convince himself that he’s loved / cared about by someone

He took up adventuring to be different

To be a conversation starter

To be interesting so that somebody

ANYBODY

Would look his way and want to be around him 

After all..

He wasn’t special or cool enough growing up to have many / any friends

He sees way too much of himself in Mirabel and ends up leaving the group for a few minutes to cry in the bathroom

Engineer Mark

Waiting On A Miracle

What else needs to be said?

If given pictures of Engineer and Mirabel everyone would say they were the same image

Insecure

Feels unwanted

Wants to be impressive and help those around him with his talents and ideas

Hides behind a false persona of happiness

THEY

ARE

THE

SAME

PERSON

He’s close to leaving the room but stays put, activating his space helmet which is also soundproof so no one can see / hear him start to cry

Poor man can’t hear “Waiting On A Miracle” without having a breakdown

[ninelivesastrology]

tw: domestic abuse, false imprisonment

I think it's so Rohini to live in a bubble like a baby in a crib and then Mrigashira holds the theme escaping that bubble. In that way, I can relate to Disney's Rapunzel even though I've never seen it. Maybe I'll watch it with my child today. All I've ever experienced across my relationships is some degree of what is best described as "entrapment" along with isolation. It really frames Rohini being the "Moon's Favorite" in a different light to me. It makes me think of false imprisonment which is what I experienced.

That's why I use certain harsh terms when it comes to my abuser, I'm not even joking. It sounds so OD, but it's not... This man saw me as nothing but a punching bag and sexual object and would act like a territorial dog when it came to other men when we weren't together, but of course, was excessively uninterested in who I was as a person unless he could absorb those aspects like Cell from Dragon Ball Z and use it to attract other women. Deadass. I was used like a fucking shop in an JRPG, like just to accessorize someone else and level them up. Oh, here's your Firaga materia!

And then, the thing with Rohini is that other women will be very envious towards this toxic favoritism. Things are not as they appear. But they desire the obsession because that's what they think love is. And I can think back on times where I believed there was no way out and all my escape plans are drastic.

This one time, I was scoping out my abuser's balcony for two weeks straight to see if I could jump off it and injure myself badly enough just so I could go to the hospital so they could help me leave. I'm so serious. And I should've did it. I should've. One of his neighbors would've seen me for sure. How Mrigashira of me.

Being shut off from the world, sheltered, experiencing jealousy and excuses from my partners for wanting to... live life like everyone else. Ugh. Being single just does something to my vagus nerve. Hard reset.

It's kind of hard to describe how you can be held captive by someone whose behavior and actions affect you, but they may not be actively trying to trap you. And that's the result because they have more power in the situation. Like a good example is not being able to leave a relationship because your partner takes care of the money and he'll see it. Maybe it is intentional. Doesn't matter because it's the same result. Same goddamn trauma.

I experienced false imprisonment in other types of relationships, too. I can't describe the feeling of being afraid to leave a friendship because that person will just lose it because they're in over their head obsessed with you. Or start friendships. I'm too vigilant. Need to focus on myself and pick apart the patterns of my friendships.

I've lamented about this a lot, but save for a few people, I've never had anybody like not treat me like an object designed to sit in their home. And I REALLY related to those tiktoks where they were using the Toy Story sound, "Oh, I forgot... you're broken... I don't wanna play with you anymore," shit had me sick because they break you. Instead of throwing me in the garbage, they trap me in the fucking bin. God.