#idk for some reason i see him as kind of the neighborhoods father figure??

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

thinking about puppet!Home. also thinking about that tidbit saying that Wally had to learn how to be gentle first as to not break things. combining both for maximum effect

[munohlow]

Ok real quick gonna propose an idea for that powerpuff girls reboot:

Don’t

But it if they really must (they shouldn’t!), there’s some better ways I think they could go about it, as well as what I’ve seen floating around (like don’t).

Pretty much all of these are assuming they’ll go the gritty reboot route because that’s pretty popular atm. A dark gritty take on anything is getting a bit tired, I think people are more open to weird and sincere stories, whether they’re adaptations or original. But recently a lot of comics (good comics!) 10+ years old are getting faithful adaptations (good adaptations!) and reviving that early/mid 2000’s taste for “what if Superman, but bastard?”

Aright one route they could go would be like that of Samurai Jack season 5 on Adult Swim. Written and animated by the original team and keeping to its truest nature while maturing it a bit along with the original fan base and maybe have an overarching plotline. The difference being that keeping it like the original ppg would create a stronger contrast with more mature and brutal violence, similar to Invincible’s friendly neighborhood Spider-man vibes and use of graphic violence.

This would be the second best way to adapt besides not doing it at all..... but that would also take more money and might not last beyond a season, ending with a solid conclusion like Samurai Jack did. Plus I’m semi doubtful the original team would be on board to drag out the girls’ story, especially like this.

Addressing the leaked script, a common comparison made was to the Netflix adaptation of The Umbrella Academy. Both are loose adaptations about child superhero siblings coming together after years of being apart, dealing with childhood trauma and their parent’s wrecklessness as adults.

And talking monkey.

Where Umbrella Academy made changes for the sake of depth and character development amidst the sci-fi madness, the CW Powerpuff Girls script attempted to be edgy and gross for the sake of being edgy and gross. They just want to be mature and topical while ignoring everything enjoyable about the original. It also just straight up sucks. I’m no writer but it seems like a lot of people who are writers are pretty pissed about paid professionals pushing this to the point of post-production. Well not post production, it was being filmed, but I enjoy alliteration. That’s also pretty far into development for something this bad, while it was rejected and is being reworked, it still got approved by enough people to shoot a pilot. If the leaked script itself isn’t a marketing ploy, I imagine that’s the real reason it was shut down. CW probably would’ve went through with it, otherwise. Maybe just keep it cancelled, yeah? Yeah.

This idea isn’t mine either but instead of the child star allegory, it could be more interesting to sort of see it carry on from where it left off, as the continued adventures of the powerpuff girls. Similar to the The Venture Bros. (a show I have not watched but know vaguely about, again this is someone else’s thought, I just think it sounds good) the girls can be grown up but start to realize they want to explore their lives and goals as individuals outside of heroism.

This at least appeals to me because you can keep the show’s status quo, keep the characters together, and have them grow into better more interesting characters as opposed to starting with a dour world where everyone is dead or just worse insufferable people. Instead, begin where audiences are comfortable and open to a new interpretation then let the characters realize there’s more to life and explore what kind of people they can become. (Or just don’t do it.)

Also just hear me out, but maybe, possibly? perhaps the professor was a good dad in the original cartoon? And let’s keep that? Let him remain a wholesome father figure? Is that okay? Don’t make this reboot? But if they do, keep him a nice loving parent?

Since this is the CW/ Warner bros who own DC comics, the best case scenario (cancelled) would be to make it more like the MANY SUPERHERO SHOWS THEY ALREADY MAKE. The good ones, anyway. I’m pretty sure the girls have crossed over with some DC characters in the cartoon already, why not make them canon DC characters? Maybe not. Could be cool! Better not, though. But they could still model the show after some of their better shows. Flash, Arrow, Supergirl are all not bad depending who you ask. I just finished Gotham, that was neat. Superman and Lois sounds like it’s pretty good so far. Powerpuff girls would better suit an earnest, straightforward, lighthearted take. Keep the humor, idk maybe up the violence to keep it dark and cool if that’s what people want (we don’t) and have it contrast with family drama like Invincible. All that to say that a darker, comical, well-written, DC-ish superhero thing they should look to for reference should be Doom Patrol.

This show fuckin litty. It’s like the better parts of Legends of Tommorow and Titans put together, as in it’s super weird and dumb but in a way that’s fun and moving. I recently rewatched season one as refresher before getting into season two and dammit if it didn’t get me in my feels amidst the quarantine. It’s about broken people working through their issues and pulling themselves together to help one another. Admittedly, it doesn’t have the best representation of those with disassociative identity disorder, as one character sometimes referred to as “Crazy” Jane has a different superpower with each of her alters. The character is very much a product of the 80’s but the writers of the show do their best to show that Jane respects the alters and their free will. But it also deals with topics of abuse, self-image, trauma, disabilities, homophobia, discrimination, and more in a way that gave me some catharsis while watching after all that’s been going on the past couple of years. Aside from all the comedy and action, it all flows together naturally, which is what you want in any series, not just your gritty superhero show. Doom Patrol is also batshit weird, every episode feels almost self contained/ freak-of-the-week while still following the main overarching plot, and Powerpuff Girls is very much like that, without the bigger plot or mature themes (as it should remain, let it be). Many will find it vaguely similar to The Umbrella Academy because GERARD WAY WAS INSPIRED BY DOOM PATROL TO WRITE THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY. The og comics, not the show, but still.

Also let’s address this

The hell was this about?

Anyway Idk maybe I sound like “Old Man Yells at Cloud,” but this really isn’t the way to go. Don’t do it, CW. Leave it alone, CW. Just don’t do it. We don’t need more sequels and reboot cash grabs, there’s plenty of up and coming writers with good original ideas waiting for their shot. And even with all those new edgy shows and movies, some of which are actually not bad, not everything needs to be so grim. Like sure Teen Titans Go! is a goofy reboot but it’s still just a fun dumb cartoon, it’s not bad, I bet that other ppg show was also just fine. Maybe YOU are “Old Man Yells at Cloud.” But what do I know?

And all THAT to say you should go watch all those other things I mentioned and some old ppg episodes back to back, instead. Don’t fuckin do it, CW

[imaginethathaikyuu]

tis the damn season

atsumu miya x fem reader 

the first fic in a series i like to call “Me Writing Whatever The Hell I Want” (a working title) hope u like it or dont idk im not ur boss!!!!!!!!!!

synopsis: Running away was easy when you were chasing hazy dreams of a big city that was destined to be yours, when your rear-view mirror showed nothing but your hole in the wall hometown. But now it’s all waiting tables and failing auditions. You were still running, but somehow, these winding roads always lead you back to Miya Atsumu - a man you’ve loved and left, until you return home for the holidays. 

tags: friends to lovers, exes to lovers, angst without a happy ending, established pre-relationship, friends with benefits, reader lives in Undisclosed Big City lmao who has celebrity dreams, atsumu is ur good ole southern boy (sort of), canon divergent, not edited, light nsfw, beginnings of sex but isn’t very detailed 

word count: 4220

song inspo  (tis the damn season by taylor swift)

-

i won’t ask you to wait if you don’t ask me to stay… 

. . . 

The soundtrack of this early morning replayed in your head as you made a hazy drive to the neighborhood’s hardware store, cutting left onto the correct street and forcing the car’s back tire over the curb you couldn’t miss. 

The replay of events looping in your mind? A whirring, then a splashing, then your father’s booming voice shouting curse words at anyone who could hear them. Your name was laced in there somewhere with demands for you to get to the kitchen, and you couldn’t tumble down the stairs fast enough to see what in the hell was going on. 

It was your first day home for the holidays, and already it was a catastrophe. 

Somehow your dad had busted a pipe underneath the kitchen sink and a strong stream of water was spraying halfway across the room because of it - your feet landed in a shallow pool when you finally reached the first floor. You didn’t have time to think of any questions before the man at fault, who was on his knees with his head hidden under the sink relentlessly trying to turn the water off, sent you out the door with more shouts, telling you to go to Miya’s Hardware and buy… something. 

“A connector?” You were talking to yourself, thinking out loud as you finally parked, but it didn’t help you remember. All you could do was walk inside the store and hope someone knew what you needed. 

It’d been years since you had been in this shop, but it looked just the same as when you were following your dad through its isles. You didn’t even bother browsing now, though - you went straight to the back of the store to the counter, expecting to see a familiar, perhaps older, face eager to help you. 

That isn’t what you found. 

“Well, hey stranger.” 

That voice rang in your ears like you’d just heard it through a megaphone pointed directly at you. Something about it was so warm, but it left you with a shiver down your spine and goosebump ridden skin. You could feel the hair on the back of your neck standing up, and you hadn’t even turned in the direction the words came from. 

But you didn’t have to look in order to know just who it was. “Atsumu.” 

“What in the hell are you doing back in town?” His voice rang with excited confusion; it carried the same inflection as anyone who’s happy to see you. Like nearly forgotten family members at a reunion before it all goes to hell, or the way the tone of your father’s voice changes when you tell him you’re doing well and mean it. People don’t speak that way often. 

He pulled you in for a hug and you gladly reciprocated, already forgetting that you were supposed to be in a hurry. 

“Home for the holidays. How have you been?”

“I’ve been alright,” he replied. “I’ve missed you.” 

His voice felt more like home than your four bedroom walls did, the charming drawl and depth in his words immediately reeling you in. It was familiar. You had spent a long time trying to forget about that familiarity; too long learning how to straighten out your words and lose any hint of the small town you came from. But Atsumu - he sounded like the epitome of this place. 

He didn’t give you time to reply, for one reason or another; instead he decided to push you back by your shoulders and get a good look at you. Up and down and up again, likely noticing every change you had made to your appearance in your time away. 

“Are you still wearing your pajamas, or is this a new… trend?” 

You looked down at yourself, “Shit,” and closed your jacket tight over the old graphic t-shirt you wore, but nothing could cover your pink polka-dotted pants. And you’d have been hit in the face with embarrassment if the image of your dad and the broken sink and a flooded kitchen didn’t smack you first. “Shit, no, um… I need something to fix a broken sink. Are you… do you work here now?” 

“I do - and you’re gonna need to be more specific.” 

“I don’t know, Atsumu,” you laughed, slowly realizing the bizarreness of what you were about to tell him. “I woke up to my dad shouting and water shooting out from under the sink, literally flooding the kitchen. He told me to get a part for the pipe… a connector, or a couple, or something - I don’t know.” 

“...A coupler?” 

“Yes!” 

“...He didn’t happen to tell you what size to get, did he?” 

The look on your face must have been a good enough answer for him, because he took off into a random aisle and left you wondering just how many sizes of couplers there could be. 

“This one will probably do the job,” he said as his path rounded the counter. “If it doesn’t, then, I can ignore the return policy for you. Just this once, though.” 

“Thanks, ‘Tsumu.” You made your payment and he slid your product over the counter as his elbows landed on it, leaning down to make himself comfortable. Like he thought he’d be there awhile. 

“How long are you gonna be in town?” 

“Two weeks. Why do you ask?” You knew why - you just wanted to hear him say it. 

“We should catch up.” 

He was grinning and shrugging and fidgeting with his fingers, just like he always did, and you would never turn down any offer he made you. 

“We should. I’ve got to get home, but are you free tonight?” 

“We close at six,” he said. “I’ll pick you up at seven.” 

“I’ll be looking forward to it,” you said, meaning every word. You wondered if he knew that. 

“So will I,” he replied, and then you made your way out before you convinced yourself to stay. 

It’d been three years since you last spoke to Atsumu. In that time, you had done a lot that felt like nothing, living in a different city that felt worlds bigger than this town - that city was a place you had once convinced yourself was all yours. You had pulled off running away effortlessly. 

But it didn’t matter how much time goes by between your meetings with Atsumu. There was something there that you could never shake, the hold you had on each other was anchor tight. Ten years could pass and you would speak to each other like it had only been one day. You’d have world ending fights and one of you would always come crawling back, letting the other win as long as it meant things would go back to normal. 

You couldn’t describe it. You never tried, you didn’t need to. The unspoken acts between the two of you didn’t need to be explained. It was something akin to a best friend with all the benefits included and most of the strings attached - confusing and nerve wracking but still so comforting. 

Atsumu was the closest thing to home you had in this town, and somehow every road always leads back to him. With a few detours on your part, of course, because you just couldn’t stay away too long. Even moving across the country didn’t change that - not like you thought it would. 

You just barely missed the turn into your driveway, being so distracted by your thoughts. So much was rushing back, so much that shouldn’t be - it isn’t a big deal, it’s just Atsumu, but it felt grand, like this was some massive reunion. 

But it wasn’t. You were only here to celebrate Christmas with your family. You weren’t even planning on seeing Atsumu, let alone meeting up with him or rekindling any kind of flame that was once there. 

And it was such a rush that you couldn’t even question why he was working at his father’s store - or why he was even in this town at all. What happened to the dreams he was chasing? 

For what felt like the first time in your life, you had questions for him. But you’d have to wait all day to ask them. 

. . .

You were thankful to come home to a dry floor and a calmer father - he finally figured out how to turn the water off and decided to fix the pipe later. You knew he’d inevitably be paying someone more qualified to repair it, but your mind had no space for that problem. 

You were still trying to figure out how you’d meander the night with Atsumu by the time he was picking you up, and when the two of you arrived at his home you still hadn’t found your answer. 

Easing into this would be best, and once alcohol was introduced to the equation it would turn into a slippery slope. 

Nothing was hard with Atsumu. You knew that - that’s why you couldn’t figure out why you were having such a hard time talking to him. 

A lot had changed. Not between the two of you, not exactly. You were right back where you were three years ago: on his couch, sitting too close to him, laughing at something he had said that was only funny because he said it. 

But your lives had changed. Your worlds had changed. His mind had very obviously changed, and because of it all, you couldn’t keep pretending that the two of you were teenagers again. 

You had to bite the bullet and ask the question that was on your mind, completely knowing that he could throw a hard hitting question back at you.

It came out more effortlessly and lighthearted than you expected. “So… what happened to playing volleyball?”

Atsumu scoffed. “You still remember that pipe dream? Nothing happened, it was just childish.” 

You didn’t like his answer, so you pressed him. You worked up the courage to start this conversation, so you were going to get to the bottom of things. “You said you wanted to catch up - I know you, Atsumu. You get what you want and you wanted to play volleyball. You were going to be a pro, you were good.” 

“I know you know me,” he said, and the smirk on his lips didn’t go unnoticed by you. “I wanted to get drunk and chat, not start up a fucking therapy session.” 

You sat patient and waiting, eyes on him, refusing to go without the answer to your question. You were teasing, really, eyeing him up and grinning as you watched him struggle. The problem was: you didn’t expect the answer you’d get. 

“I - I had the chance.” There was a scratch in his throat that wasn’t caused by the whiskey he’d just swallowed. “I was being scouted and playing my ass off and there were talks of being on an Olympic team one day, but… shit happens, and that’s it.” 

“What shit, Atsumu? You didn’t just give up, did you? Were you scared or something?” 

You didn’t realize how close you were to him until his hand came down to rest on your knee, and both of you focused on that touch as his next thoughts became words. “Dad got sick. And ‘Samu had just opened the restaurant, and… there were bills to pay and the store to run. Even though I wasn’t his preference, Dad had no choice and left the legacy of Miya’s Hardware to me, so - that’s where I am.” 

“Oh. I… I had no idea - I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s fine. You were already long gone by then - don’t say sorry.” 

“I’m sorry,” you said, and you hugged him without thinking, but he hugged you back all the same. “I’m sorry, ‘Tsumu.” 

“It’s okay,” he told you, but you didn’t feel okay. You were sure he didn’t, either. “It’s not your fault.” 

You pulled away from him just enough to look at his face, and you hadn’t noticed the distance in his eyes until just then. As you looked at him, you realized it was only familiar to now. It wasn’t there years ago, when you got to look into those eyes every day. 

“I should’ve been there for you.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, but his words were dangling on an edge. He didn’t quite mean them. “You were off in your own dream. I got through it.” 

You only nodded. You weren’t sure what else to say after that. 

As Atsumu sat back against the couch, he brought you with him, tucking you under his arm against his chest. His lips on your forehead made you close your eyes and for a second, it was like you were both nineteen again. You could’ve been, if time would only slow down or freeze or go back - what wouldn’t you give for that? 

“I’m done talking about me,” he mumbled. “I wanna hear about your life now.” 

You laughed, but quiet, “My life’s been fine.”

“Only fine?” 

“You don’t see me on the big screen, do you?” 

He laughed this time. “Not yet. One day, though. Have you gotten used to the city yet?” 

“Oh… I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it, but… it does feel like home now. It’s so different from living here.” 

“I bet.” 

“I try not to romanticize it, but - I don’t know. It feels good, even if it’s not what I thought it’d be. The lights are pretty bright. Blinding compared to here.” 

His response was a nod, and that was it. If he had any questions or comments, he held them back. 

A break in the silence came soon, though. “You know,” he said, quiet, with a small laugh that was humorless, “I’m not as good at getting what I want as you think I am.” 

“That’s not true,” you replied, and you were setting up an argument you weren’t ready to make. “You got me.” 

“Did I?” 

“What do you mean?” 

Silence lingered, and after too long you sat up and looked at him, and that got him to talk. 

“Nothing,” he insisted. He pulled you closer with two fingers holding your chin, and you didn’t resist. “Nothing, baby. Let’s just… just be quiet for a while.” 

There wasn’t time for you to say anything else. His lips were on yours the moment he got his last word out. And even though you expected him to kiss you, it still made you gasp. 

You couldn’t describe how much you missed kissing someone you wanted to, and Astumu’s kiss was like finding home. His lips were like candy, sweeter than sugar; his bite was a freezing shock that always pulled a giggle and a whisper of his name out of you. He knew how to kiss you, slow and deep with a hand on your jaw to keep you there, never leaving you wanting more because he gave everything you could ever need. 

It didn’t take long for his kisses to trail down your neck, or for his shirt to come off, or for your back to land on the couch. You had already reached euphoria just seeing him hovering over you, eyes soft and hair askew; you didn’t need anything but this. You’d never want anything but this. 

You did what you always did - trailed your hand down his torso, over his golden skin, stopping just after every freckle or scar or mark. This time, you were looking for something new. You didn’t find anything. You didn’t stop until your hand landed on his waist, and there, you squeezed - 

“Stop, you little shit,” and he laughed, right along with you. A real and genuine laugh - you hadn’t heard that song in a long time. “Why do you always do that?” 

Finally he moved down to press his chest against yours, his hips locking in place between your legs. A perfect combination. 

“Why do you always give me the chance?” You were still laughing, not able to get over the cute sight. Atsumu was always so ticklish there, right on his waist, and when you made that discovery you swore you’d never forget it. And he sure as hell wished you would have. “You’re so cute. I’ve missed that smile.” 

“I’ve missed you,” he replied. Somehow you just knew that he meant it. 

“Don’t. I’m here.” 

“You’re here,” he repeated. Like he was reassuring himself. 

You took the initiative to unbutton your shirt yourself, so that there was no way for him to think that you wanted this to stop there. It couldn’t, not when you had him this close. And his eyes followed the popping buttons like stalking prey. 

“And you’re still the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. Fucking hell.” 

You cringed - you couldn’t help the feeling in your gut when he gave you those sweet words. You knew he meant them in some way; you knew Atsumu wouldn’t lie to you. He’s never told you anything just for the sake of it. But how many times, in the last three years, had someone done just that? Told you just what you wanted to hear so they could get inside you? It was vile the first time. The second, it made you ache. But now, you’re used to it. Nobody means what they say. You’re used to it. 

And Atsumu could snatch up any girl he wanted. A girl who’s used to blinding lights and expensive wine and lying - or a girl who would stay with him, who wouldn’t push his buttons, who would be effortless in her charm and wit and beauty. 

You couldn’t put yourself in either category. 

“You haven’t seen many, then.” 

“Why would I even need to when I’ve got you? You’re a fucking dream. All I ever think about.” 

You shook your head, not even noticing you were doing it. Atsumu wouldn’t have it. 

“Don’t do that,” he said. “Not when you know what you do to me. You’ve got my heart beating out of my chest, for fuck’s sake - it has been since you walked into the store.” 

You never knew him to be so open with his feelings, or maybe you had just gotten used to being lied to. You weren’t sure and you didn’t care - all you could think about was kissing him, so you pulled him in, and you were sure he would devour you. You’d have no problem with that. 

It was desperate when you said, “I need you.”

And reassuring when he replied, “I’m right here.” 

He wasn’t close enough. You didn’t think he ever could be. And it was right then, when you were swimming in desperation, that you realized you shouldn’t have been doing this. It would only make leaving even harder. Doing it the first time was hell, letting him watch you leave and be okay with it. You hated yourself for wishing he wasn’t. And you were drowning. 

You hated yourself for leaving. 

You hated yourself more for coming back. 

And you didn’t want to be there, all of a sudden, despite the ache in between your thighs and the addicting warmth he had you trapped in. You didn’t want to be there and you didn’t want to leave, either - you only wanted something easy, but you’d never have it. Not here, and not in the city, and not with Atsumu. 

You felt him freeze, felt things shift. You hadn’t even noticed the way your energy had completely dropped. 

“Something wrong?” He moved up to hold your face. He noticed the tears in your eyes before you did. 

It was hard to look at him but you held his gaze, and his touch hurt more than it healed but you yearned for it. The concern on his face was genuine, the gentle strokes of his thumb on your cheek weren’t forced, and it all was making your stomach turn. 

He cared for you - obviously he did - but not enough to ask you to stay. Not enough to find trouble in letting you leave him. So maybe you shouldn’t have a problem with it, either. 

“No,” you said through a sore throat and a locked jaw. “Sorry, just…” 

“We don’t have to do this,” he told you. “We can just talk - I want to talk. If it’s too much -” 

“It’s okay,” you said. You tried to mean it as much as, “I miss you, Atsumu. I want you - touch me, I miss you.” 

“I know,” and he was wiping the tears off of your cheeks as he kissed your lips, “I’ll take care of you, baby, just let me. Stop thinking so much. Let me take care of you like I always do, yeah? You want me to help you feel good?” 

You always had a problem with that - thinking too much. He never hesitated to call you out on it. You nodded your head, strong and fast, like you were trying to knock the thoughts right out of it. 

“Please, ‘Tsumu.” You were crying for him, pulling him closer. “Need you. Make it better, please.” 

“I’d do anything,” he said. “You gotta quit crying, baby. You’re acting like our first time again.” 

You laughed at that, wiping your own tears and knocking his hands away. “God, that was so embarrassing.” 

“It was cute.” 

“It wasn’t.” 

“It was kinda hot, too.” 

“Atsumu!” 

It was his deep grin that made you relax again, and so did another blissful kiss that took your breath in a way that you enjoyed. 

“You can cry, baby,” he said, popping buttons on both of your pants, “as long as it’s because of how good I’m making you feel. That’s what you need, pretty girl. Let me show you how much I’ve been missing you - get these pants off, baby, let me see you.” 

He didn’t give you the chance to cry any more, at least not in an emotional sense. Your mind was stripped with your body, filled with nothing but him, no space between the two of you left for insecurities or questions. 

It wasn’t until he coaxed you into his bedroom that those things had the chance to creep back. 

Atsumu was out cold, cuddled into your chest and holding on tight to your waist, after smothering you in soft kisses and sweet sleepy words. You were comfortable there, warm and safe and content, but the pit in your stomach only grew. You watched him sleep, his mouth slightly open and eyes softly closed, and you wanted to reach down and kiss him but you resisted. 

It was late and you should be asleep but you couldn’t rest. You couldn’t stop loathing yourself long enough to close your eyes, and the more you thought, the harder it got to breathe. Your throat was sore again. Your eyes were watering again. And every word you wanted to say to Atsumu was tumbling out of your mouth and falling onto sleeping ears. 

“Why didn’t you ask me to stay?”

He didn’t stir. It was still rumbling breaths and the whir of the air conditioner filling the silence. 

“Everyone else did. But you. Why… You of all people should know I’m just as worthless there as I am here - I’ll never make it - I’ve changed everything and still…” 

You sucked a hard breath into your lungs to stop a wracking sob, just barely holding it in. 

“I just ended up here again. With you. I’m so alone without you but I can’t - fuck.”

It didn’t even matter what you were trying to say anymore, because you had no clue. You didn’t know why you couldn’t just stay with him regardless of his choice to let you go, but something in you made you run. Maybe it was worthless pride or a childish desire to be something more - you didn’t know. 

You didn’t belong in any industry you dreamed of working in. You weren’t born to be a star. You should know by now - should accept your failure and come back home for more than just one night. 

But you couldn’t. 

There was still a chance, wasn’t there? 

A chance to belong somewhere.

A chance to be led home.

A chance to make it. Would you die trying? 

You would leave in the morning. And you wouldn’t ask Atsumu to wait for you as he started getting ready for the day. And Atsumu wouldn’t ask you to ditch your own plotted destiny just to stay with him. 

But this would happen again. Every time you would swear it off and every time, you would travel roads that take you right back to this town, this bed, these arms. 

Running away would never get easier, but this is all it would ever be with him. He would never stop you leaving - and you would never ask him to.  

. . .

...so i’ll go back to LA

[occasionallyish--archive]

oh my god... OH MY GOD. DO I HAVE THE STORY FOR YOU it’s the dream i just had... i just woke up from.... i needa write it all down before i forget. this is some messed up stuff. tw for blood, violence, fire, mentions of illness, mentions of... ion know. psychosis?, really graphic scenes, ed sheeran, some kinda existential- but highkey funny- shit at the end

ion think imma be able to go back to sleep lmao

so it starts off and i’m with a friend a knew back when i went to school. we’ll call her j. this part is kind of fuzzy for me, but we’re walking together on this long, winding sidewalk, and she’s chattering away about some party or something that we’re headed to. at some point, we meet up with some other people and we’re all walking together now, talking all close-knit and whatevs. at some point, j has me pulled to her side, and i think her tone’s gotten all sort of flirty as she talks me up to these people i vaguely know. then she pulls me close and presses this big, long kiss on my cheek, that has me confused and maybe kinda uncomfortable lol. sorry to shoot you down, hon, but i kind of had to push her away from me. then we both got kind of uncomfortable, and she even mentioned something about how i flat-out rejected her, i apologize, and then we both kind of laugh it off.

then suddenly, it’s like i’m being cut from one scene to another. it’s nighttime now. suddenly, i’m climbing out of a car to find we’re in, like... some sort of grassy field, right outside what looked like a fenced-off baseball field. there are people scattered about, laying on blankets and talking and stuff. i climb up on a sort of like... hill. but it’s barely defined enough to be considered a hill. but i get on there and i see j with our group and a couple other kids i knew from her time. and i’m like, “c- can. can i. may i. can i join y’alls group if you’ll let me” all nervous and stuff for some reason and then they say yes and i go to lay down near them but then we do another one of those movie scene cut things

next thing i see, i’m in one of two cars, parked in my driveway at home. i’m alone in one car while my family is all together in the other. then the passenger door in my car gets pulled open and my mom poked her head in, shining a flashlight around. i look over to note my father’s doing the same in the other car- and at this point, i guess i figure that i ended up falling asleep at the outing and my people had to come pick me up or something. but then i also get this magical feeling, and i just know that somebody ended up stealing my parents’ credit card or smth.

i don’t really know what happens between then and this next thing, but next thing i know, my father and i are walking together, crossing the street, approaching the first house we see with an open garage and lights on. we kind of step inside the garage and suddenly this rc car turns on and starts driving toward the gutter. and i’m like ‘ope, better grab that, then i can give it to the kid who’s no doubt on the other end” just as i grab the car, i turn around to find that the kid had in fact come out! he looked about my age, and he had short red hair, and his eyes were blown wide and his expression one of... shock maybe? or perhaps terror with what i learn next lol. he’s completely silent as i try to hand the car to him, explaining that “hey we’re a neighbor from down the street, we’re looking for some other neighbor(i guess at one point j was established as a neighbor i don’t know the exact address of?) called j, who may have stolen something from us idk.”

the kid kind of rushes inside without saying anything, and then out comes this ed sheeran looking fellow. he’s so short at first i swear i didn’t even realize he was different from the kid LMAO- anyway tho. he’s holding a beer and i give him the car, and then i’m sort of pacing around as i explain to him what’s up ‘cause that’s what i do. he’s kind of got this blank pleasant smile on his face, all the while, but i don’t really pay mind to it yknow? in a bit, i’m in the driveway, again near the gutter. my father’s on the far end of the driveway, maybe around the middle, standing near where the lawn begins. ed sheeran is standing right outside of the garage. i’ve just explained that we’re neighbors looking for a particular neighbor, and now it’s my father’s turn to offer his two cents. then i look up and suddenly i can clearly tell that ed sheeran’s been STABBED. his white shirt clings to his body, stained all sorts of red and brown. there’s almost a clear point of puncture right through his body. i’ve never had a dream in which i could smell but i’m sure if i could i’d practically smell the rot.

i look at him kind of wary, and then my father finishes whatever he says, and quietly i go, “..sir? you okay?” and i don’t really remember his answer, but i’m 80% sure it’s some stupidly simple, good ol’ pleasant thing. but then he’s running at me and he suddenly has a KNIFE. A KNIFE???? oh but, father to the rescue! he comes barreling over to protect me then suddenly the two are on the ground, in the street, fighting it out. kind of like an action movie, except it’s probably like the middle of the night and they’re a bit a ways from the light of the garage so i can only vaguely see them. now, i’m screaming. i’m yelling, “HELP” and “FIRE”(am i a psychic?) and lights are turning on in houses and i can already somehow hear people muttering in their phones for 911. but i’m desperate, just kind of standing there, watching the scene roll out “CALL POLICE” “CALL AN AMBULANCE” “CALL 911“ “HELP” like woah call the whole embassy why don’t you-

then suddenly, i’ve got this feeling. and let me tell you, it is not a good one. and now, randomly, a whole bunch of lights in the neighborhood turn blindingly bright and then explode. it goes from house to house, just exploding all the lights, as i think you’d see in a movie oh, but we’re not over yet. i get another terrible terrible feeling, and then i look toward the house we’re standing in front of. i don’t see it, at first, but i just know that there’s a fire in that house. and then, what do you know, a fire truck comes barreling our way. at this point i guess the altercation’s ended, because i’m pretty sure that’s my father’s silhouette in front of me, i think gearing to catch that kid up there- oh, what kid? yknow. i guess while i wasn’t paying attention when the fire started growing, but now it’s visible through the window. and now a kid has climbed onto the roof in front of that window, like we’re taught to in school. i guess my father’s rearing to catch him, but then the kid jumps and my father just sidesteps away, letting him plummet onto the concrete and ultimately his death. jfc dude

i don’t really know what happens between then and now, but next thing i know myself and my father are running down the road, back toward our house. i think i’m crying. but then he scoops me into his arms and comfortingly whispers, “don’t worry. it’s just an au. it’s just an au. that means it isn’t canon”

and then i woke up and bolted upright, and felt this short, strong sense of peace before deciding that “OH MY GOD THAT WAS A POWERFUL DREAM I NEEDA WRITE ABOUT IT IDUHFDJ” and like,, christ man. sometimes i have nightmares where they try to scare me, and it doesn’t really work... but it’s been a long time since i had a nightmare that really shook me like that. like fuck. i’m kind scared to go back to sleep lmao

[omophagias]

bookposting #22

tender is the night, f. scott fitzgerald: 3.5 stars, i’d say. i really do like his prose style. it…there’s some l-word, i forget which—languid, that’s it. it felt very languid. i was less a fan of the flashback parts, partially because i didn’t like being in dick’s head as much as i liked being in rosemary’s. it also sometimes felt like fitzgerald was kind of wobbling around on the border between “no, obviously dick isn’t meant to be a sympathetic character, he’s a self-destructive asshole” and the, like, not being really sure whether he was extending that “you shouldn’t like him!” to the part where he marries his teenage psychiatric patient. (fortunately the autobiographical resemblance didn’t get that far…?) really what i was mostly thinking by the end was, damn, fscott and zelda, i really wish you’d lived in a time when it was easier to get divorced. but, you know, on the list of books about people just really fucking themselves over, this is one of the better ones. i think i got it because i can’t / couldn’t stop thinking about “patient is the night” from over the garden wall.

the fire next time, james baldwin: 5 stars easy. i really wish i’d read it sooner; i ended up reading it because i bought my roommate a copy for his birthday and wanted to be able to write him a decent further-reading list to go with it. i just was completely awed by the facility with which he was able to touch on so many different things and draw them back together into a whole, and he was such a writer. i don’t know that i can really talk about "down at the cross” right now without just quoting massive passages because it just speaks so completely for itself. read it.

trouble the saints, alaya dawn johnson: three stars? this is kind of hard to talk about because i theoretically like a lot about it. alternate-universe 1930s-1940s where at the age of 10 some people of color gain a power called “the hands” along with occasional semi-prophetic dreams, “the hands” basically give you one superpower like “can see a person’s worst deed by touching them” or “can sense threat to oneself”, protagonist’s power is unfailingly perfect aim, which she uses to kill for the mob. i think maybe it was a marketing issue, because from the blurbs and so forth it seemed to be being sold as much more of a straight up and down fantasy noir, which is absolutely not what you’re getting. it’s extremely character-driven and thematically very concerned with passing, liminality, justice, ancestral trauma. i will say i didn’t care as much for the middle third, i thought dev’s narrative voice was not interesting, especially compared to phyllis or tamara. it’s…i don’t know, i think it’s interesting and it’s definitely something i’d enthusiastically recommend to other people but i just didn’t really click with it. maybe a prose issue, idk, it got kind of dense sometimes in a way that didn’t really work with the plot, imo.

the story of silence, alex myers: rating…i don’t know, i feel like it might be a book that’d improve on rereading, provisional three because i felt a bit disappointed. retelling of the roman de silence, a 13th century french poem about a lord who, due to inheritance law, raises his afab child silence as a boy and which i haven’t yet read (which might be one of the reasons it didn’t click, i couldn’t tell if/where myers was deviating from the story beyond the obvious change to the ending—in the poem, silence ends up married to the king; in the book, silence escapes that fate and the fate of being forcibly externally gendered in general). i think that probably its best strength is as a prose adaptation of the poem, because it definitely has the feel of, like, the better prose adaptations of arthurian poems (which this is, merlin is in it). but on its own i’m less sure; there’s not really a lot of character exploration. i’m gonna donate my copy because it’s a 400-page hardback and i don’t want to pay to send it home, i can get a paperback in the states.

wakenhyrst, michelle paver: two stars. oy. a very boring gothic horror with not enough horror and far too many diary entries from the main character’s terrible father. remarkably unsympathetic treatment of the housemaid who is being, frankly, sexually exploited by said father. also i felt like there were digs being taken at margery kempe, which is less serious but still annoyed me. paver really, really likes doing epistolary/diary-based horror—she did it in dark matter, which i did like—but these ones are just not well-done, the shift back and forth between them and the main character’s perspective doesn’t do much, and the horror—which as far as i can tell is the maybe-real ghost of the father’s sister who he let drown in the fen when they were kids coming back into the house—is just not given enough room to get really settled and also not really successfully integrated with the big spooky 15th century painting that’s also part of the whole thing somehow.

one-way street and other writings, walter benjamin, trans. j.a. underwood: three stars again? i don’t know; i think that a lot of it was very well-written / translated but i was missing the referents to actually engage with it. also i was really, really tired when i read the first two essays. i did like “one-way street,” it felt kind of like invisible cities in a way, and “hashish in marseille” was funny because like dude we’ve all been there, we’ve all been high and unable to stop staring at people’s faces. i think overall the things that i understood i liked but i didn’t understand as much as i wanted to.

the dunwich horror and other stories, h.p. lovecraft: three and a half, four, something in that neighborhood, graded to the lovecraft curve (a curve somehow squamous and rugose!). overall the stories were pretty well-selected—the dunwich horror is definitely one of his best, the thing on the doorstep is very interesting as a story, like, thematically; the dreams in the witch house didn’t work as well for me because it is kind of about a guy double-majoring in math and folklore too hard (and what the fuck is “non-euclidean calculus” anyway, howie), accidentally discovering teleportation, and then getting chased by a witch and and her half gef the mongoose / half vladislav cat familiar in the form of evil shapes, the lurking fear really dropped the ball at the end and is basically a dry run for the rats in the walls; i had no idea what was going on in hypnos, and the outsider is a decent sort of twilight zone-y tomato in the mirror couple of pages. i think really what i found most interesting about this collection is that it made it very clear to me that lovecraft was deeply, deeply obsessive about eugenics. which, i mean, i’d already known he had the ingredients for it (seething, all-consuming racism; classism of the “augh the inbred hillbillies!” type that was very foundational for american eugenics; his personal concern with / fear of hereditary mental illness; interest in what was in the 1920s cutting edge science) but i hadn’t quite put them together until looking at the dunwich horror and the lurking fear and their presentation of rural new englanders, combined with the, you know, his stuff about innsmouth (as always i say: THE FISH PEOPLE DID NOTHING WRONG) and the racist implications therein, which crops up in dunwich and in thing on the doorstep, the way all three are very, very concerned with genealogy / heredity… shouldn’t have taken me that long to figure it out. one thing i did like about the lurking fear was the moment when the narrator, atop the hill where the abandoned house of the ill-fortuned and vanished martense family stands, looks out over the plain and suddenly realizes that the weird earth mounds in the area are all radially emanating from that hill. it’s an actually effective spooky moment! i thought it was gonna be giant mole people! it isn’t, it’s the martense family having somehow managed in 100 years, through some really committed inbreeding, to devolve into weird voiceless subterranean cannibalistic hominids. boo.

[viktcrr-alt]

MAXENCE DANET FAUVAL / NONBINARY — don’t look now, but is that viktor samuels i see? the 24 year old visual arts student is in their senior year and he/they are a rochester alum. i hear they can be observant, ingenious, reticent and dependent, so maybe keep that in mind. i bet he/they will make a name for themselves living in garcia row. ( james. 20. est. she/they. )

LAST INTRO WOOOO !! u know what to mf DO !!

TW DEATH, HEAVY GRIEF, OVERDOSE / DRUG ADDICTION, HOSPITALIZATION, HYPERSEXUALITY, RELIGION MENTIONS, MENTAL ILLNESS

a e s t h e t i c s

old tvs and their static, worn tapes, horror movie screams, spilled ink, a sculptor’s hands, clay-stained, chicken scratch handwriting, messy notes, messy hair, scoffs and eye-rolls, bruised knuckles, sore throats, funeral homes and a crying preacher, shattered ceramics, knife fights, high ledges, vertically-striped pants, red lights, the moon shrouded in clouds, cigarette butts.

general info !!

full name: viktor phillip samuels

nickname(s): icky vicky :/

b.o.d. - jan 2nd

label(s): the black hole, the crepehanger, the impious, the opaque, the tempest, etc.

height: 6′0″

hometown: rochester, new york

sexuality: uuuhhh god … probably pan tbh

pinterest

stats

biography !!

okay so … born and raised in rochester, new york to the well known samuels family. preacher father, a mother, a twin sister born 15 minutes before him - aka tatiana samuels, who died back in january.

kinda … grew up as a really awkward, quiet kid? like … just didn’t really interact with other kids super well, preferred being alone and like … digging up bugs in the dirt. only friend was like … his own sister.

grew out of this as they got older, instead sort of … becoming a bit of a dick? to compensate for years of awkwardness? will bite the hand that feeds him. was a full on nuisance by middle school. tatiana was not, at least, noticeably.

has always been a fan of darker materials, y’know - grim and creepy, morbid shit. big fan of tim burton ever since he was a kid, which isn’t … a good look for a preacher’s son, but he’s never really felt ~in~ with the rest of his family, anyway.

drew disturbing pictures as a kid probably tbh that prompted one or two or five phone calls home 2 assure everything was fine.

has always been really … good at art, in general - from drawing to painting to playing with clay, that’s always been viktor’s Thing.

aNyWaYs. being tatiana’s twin brother was kinda hard sometimes. tatiana and him were near opposites besides their same mean-spirited trait. she was better in the public than he was, but viktor was arguably more talented than tatiana. they both loved each other deeply and found each other as competition for their parents’ attention - a rivalry, of sorts.

high school is when viktor really started to act out - started extreme, like losing his virginity in their church and vandalism around the neighborhoods. faked being possessed in the middle of sunday service. almost had an exorcism performed on him, probably.

the only redeemable trait was like … his sheer talent with art. was in a 3d art AP course, specialized in sculpting - could pretty much create anything he wanted with enough dedication.

because his parents would be focused on disciplining him for his antics, tatiana could sneak away and get away with stuff easier. so like, y’know, that’s on the bright-side of things.

never been particularly motivated to do much - wasn’t planning on attending lockwood but his parents kinda … did and sent in his application for him b/c they were Not on board with him Wasting Away (wanted him out of the house asap)

actually pretty smart !! just doesn’t like … want to apply himself ever. double majoring in english and visual arts because they’re like … two of his only interests :/ plus he wants to write and illustrate his own series of children books with a style similar to tim burton’s

he’d been experimenting since high school but college is where he really started to like … crack down on himself and figure himself out. was out as pan & nonbinary by his sophomore year of college, just … not to his family, necessarily. thinks tatiana always knew, but didn’t … really use it against him, blessedly enough

always felt like the whole twin - connection thing was … both wack and also not-wack? sometimes it felt believable but sometimes he had no idea what was going on in tatiana’s head. but he felt oddly transparent to her, always - like he was predictable to no one but her.

( TW DEATH, GRIEF, OVERDOSE / HOSPITALIZATION BEYOND THIS POINT )

but when tatiana disappeared - it was like, like viktor knew. the moment she had been kidnapped - felt something deeply wrong in his gut. and when tatiana died - viktor felt something cut so severely in him. he knew, he always knew exactly when. he couldn’t put his finger on how - but he knew. even when everybody else held out hope for her to be found - he knew.

went on a bender around the same time, had always struggled w/ drug addiction but it got worse the longer tatiana went without being found.

( also struggled heavily with his mental health, too ?? has manic and depressive episodes. will fixate on a sculpting project for six months and then purposely knock it off the table and destroy it in the matter of seconds once it’s finished for. no fucking reason. impulse spends A Lot. )

when her body was found, viktor went off the rails. ended up overdosing and being hospitalized where he spent the next like … however long months … until they deemed him better.

has been back since the beginning of fall semester in an attempt to finish his senior year - mostly out of his parents’ insistence that he did, because he very much did not want to. 

is still dealing with a lot of trauma & grief, which was only amplified with dean lockwood’s death - causing him to spiral and be unpredictable with his mental health. some days are good, and some days are very bad.

personality !!

the human embodiment of a gremlin, fed after midnight. a goblin, if u will. one of those cats with a narrow head and big ass ears. that’s him.

b i g horror & halloween enthusiast. loves the old campy horror movies. probably has an abundance of masks from different movies. dresses like a grimy millennial beetlejuice more than he should. love those vertically striped pants!

fashion alternates between e-boy (would b tik tok famous if he were like … 17), millennial beetlejuice, and like … goth in a crop top and sweatpants. big fan of crop tops. big fan of sweatpants.

he can be fucking mean. petty, aggressive, instigator. will literally spit in ur face or no reason. kind of person who’ll stick his gum into other ppl’s hair. other than that he’s like … pretty okay. he’s not always mean, he’s just a dick like … 70% of the time lmao

i mean yeah okay he’ll call someone a stinky bitch for no reason except He Feels Like It And Believes It. it’s fine he’s fine, we’re fine.

despite the fact tht he’s probably getting into fights whenever - considers himself 2 be a lover n not a fighter but that’s just because he Fucks a lot. kind of uses it like a coping mechanism, like he’s this big fancy carnival show that’s like ‘come one, come all! fuck the dead girl’s twin brother!’ may have a problem w/ hypersexuality but it’s nothing he’s fully. aware of.

the preacher’s whore son, basically

like i said he’s pan & nb, switches between he and they pronouns but like … he has such a fragile grip on his identity that u could call him ‘dog-faced bitch’ and he’d turn like hey wassup :)

vastly impulsive, like i’ve mentioned … destroys his own creations 4 the fun of it, spends all his money on useless shit, will cheat on someone bc he feels like it. screams into the night sky frequently, like a cat in heat.

i mean he also creates useless shit for no reason too. spent six months sculpting a hollowed out tree the size of him and then took a sledgehammer to it.

dramatic fuck. used to play the organ at the church like … when no one was looking after him and service was about to start. just these creepy as melodies. would do the same thing at home on his keyboard w/ the organ setting whenever he got grounded until his parents took away his keyboard sadjfkg

won’t talk about his time away b/c it’s not rly anybody’s business but ofc nothing is sacred to the watershed app, y’know, nothing’s private.

still like - he absolutely refuses to talk about tatiana’s death and like, his mental health or his addiction (he’s fallen back into it tbh but it hasn’t gotten bad again … yet) or like … anything involving his own emotions

will literally just change the topic! abruptly, no warning, asks about the jonas brothers instead.

that being said he’s obsessed with tatiana’s death. tatiana was very much a rock for him, kinda dependent on her in a way? just … being there, y’know, kept him grounded.

so he obv became a shepherd bc he wants to know Everything there is abt the app, wants to be deep inside it, wanted to know Who Exactly Killed Tatiana and like … not saying he wants 2 commit murder but :/ yknow. he’s very upset.

emotionally unavailable while also like crying twice a day.

will tell you straight up what he wants from you, no bullshit, no beating around the bush - just blunt. if he wants to just fuck, nothing else, then that’s that. if he feels deviation he’ll ghost in like. less than a second. kinda awful like that! feels no shame.

but like … also is emotional ?? as shit ?? it’s confusing. he’ll cry on a whim and then flip u off if u try to console him or like. ask him anything. will bite you.

he goes to therapy but he generally fucks around and wastes most of the time until the therapist threatens to like … idk what therapists r allowed to threaten. to send him off to another therapist? idk.

likes being intimidating but like … not with his body or nothing ‘cos he’s a TWIG, but like … uses his love for horror n creepy shit to his advantage. has an abundance of fake blood. has channeled the energy of jack nicholson and used it on tatiana’s boyfriends before.

( also a big fan of sfx makeup, has dabbled in it)

probably chases kids with a chainsaw (w/o the like … chain … or w/e … so it’s not actually Dangerous) around halloween

he’s generally never doing good, both mental health wise and morally.

would probably steal candy from a baby for the fun of it.

i don’t know if there’s a good to him, deep down, and i don’t know if he sees any issues with himself either !! nothing really breaks through to him anymore, the only person who ever really made him stop and Think about his actions was tatiana.

kinda introverted, recluse type who doesn’t rly like most people or going out, but he’ll go to parties if it means he’ll be high as shit.

pretty observant. likes to analyze people even though he’s probably not … fully right.

wanted connections !!

he lives alone currently but like … ex - roommates where viktor was just. a nightmare to live with.

feel like a lot of enemies is also a possibility !! viktor’s messy.

people that like … knew tatiana. dated tatiana, even, and viktor would pretty much try to intimidate / scare them at any given chance :/

close friends of tatiana too

people who hated tatiana but liked viktor. people who hated viktor but liked tatiana

people who take pity on him and he Hates it viciously and vocally.

a band of hooligan gremlin kids who do drugs and fuck shit up around town like they’re edgy teenagers even though they’re all early to mid 20s.

the girl he lost his virginity 2 in high school lmao … a distant memory

fellow rochester locals, from church or school or whatever

exes from the past !! good terms and bad terms, but i love bad terms a whole lot mainly b/c viktor’s a jackass.

don’t know if he’s soft towards anybody but we can try. we can Try.

friends, old friends, new friends, bad friends, good friends, close friends, frenemies, etc. etc. all of it

hookups !! so many hookups. fwbs, one night stands, whatever.

uuhhhh god. i don’t know. im so sleepy rn. people in the same major or similar majors.

maybe a ride or die.

people he’s a bad influence on / an enabler towards / all around toxic for them / each other.

people he’s fought !! people who’ve seen him get into random fights and were like ‘uh wtf’

fellow shepherds !!

literally anything im not picky.

[leejrdans]

       you can try to conceal your heart with red and gold titanium,        but you can never truly hide from your demons.

Merlin’s beard, what is ( LEE JORDAN ) doing out at this hour? For a ( HALF BLOOD ) who is ( 19 ) years old, ( HE ) really ought to know better. You know, I hear that they’re aligned with ( THE ORDER ), but that could be just a rumor. I do know that ( HE ) is ( A CIS MAN ) and a ( GRYFFINDOR ) alumni though. They’re very ( FORTHRIGHT ) and ( CAPTIVATING ) but also quite ( IRREVERENT ) and ( BIASED ), which could be why they remind of ( LAUGHING TO FEEL ALIVE AND SPEAKING UP TO STAY ALIVE, A RESTLESS FEELING IN THE PIT OF YOUR STOMACH THAT ALWAYS DEMANDS MORE MORE MORE, HONESTY AS YOUR NATIVE TONGUE ). Some people say they’re the spitting image of ( TREVOR JACKSON ), but I’ve never heard of them. 

LINKS: pinboard. stats page. wanted plots is COMING.

CHARACTER PARALLELS: will be added one day when my brain does work

HEY GUYS, it’s mar again. lee is a new muse. as in NEW. completely fresh. i am Nervous! but i love 1 man!!!  note: lee is quite a Social Man, so i kind of went ahead and assumed some stuff about his position at hogwarts ( like, popularity & how the slytherins receive his biased commentary ) but i’m not trying to generalise at all and say that THIS IS HOW YOUR CHARACTER SHOULD FEEL bc i hate that LMAO take it all w a grain of salt its just how i?? ig imagine things went but if they went differently that is Okie

history.

lee is born in st mungo’s, to a halfblood mother & a muggleborn father. they’re not married. hell, they’re barely in love, but she still squeezes his hand during it all, and he cries, and for a moment they think that - maybe - they can be happy. ( someone should have told them that a child is never the solution, that it doesn’t work like that. )

lee’s mother moved into his father’s place -- a tiny flat, in peckham, but it was bigger than her own place -- and brought only two suitcases and a backpack ( warning sign one ). they tried, hard, for a while. lee’s father worked and his mother was at home, most of the time, looking after her son and making empty wine bottles appear ( warning sign two ) and then staying away during weekend nights ( warning sign three ). 

she leaves for the first time when lee is nearly one, taking one of her suitcases and her backpack and slipping away in the death of night. lee’s father is lost -- for a while, but finds help in neighbours and sisters and his mother, mainly. and that’s how it went for years --- his mother coming back, and leaving, and coming back, until she didn’t come back again, not really. lee’s dad said it was enough, one day, and lee’s mother retreated to her own place. his father tried to get full custody and got it, eventually and then there was his mother, not cut from his life completely, but only semi-there, appearing when she could and - most importantly - wanted to.

he doesn’t really get it, in all honesty, as he’s five when his father tells her mother she can’t live with them any more, and most of his life after that is him and his dad and his aunts and his grandmother. plenty of family --- plenty of reasons to be happy, but an inexplicable gap, still.

lee grows up in peckham, london, and attends muggle elementary there. he goes to diagon alley on afternoons after school and weekends, with his dad, and later alone. he likes gazing at brooms ( wistfully ) and hanging out with fellow wizarding kids and magic, magic, magic. there’s magic at home too, of course, but his grandmother and aunts are all muggles, so there’s not much, but in diagon alley there’s so much of it. he likes the muggle world, sure ( especially video games & music ), but it’s nothing compared to the wizarding world.

i mean --- it’s not like he’s bored, because everything is excitable for young lee, and there’s fun to be found in everything, but there’s just more in the wizarding world - more mystery and excitement and ways to wreak havoc. because that he does love --- pranks, innocent and less innocent, hijinks and shenanigans. getting on his teachers nerves with bad jokes and cursewords. 

lee doesn’t grow up with a lot of the things that some might consider crucial -- financial stability, a stable family life, a nice neighborhood. but it’s good and it’s whole in its own way. there’s plenty of people lee loves and plenty who love him back and it’s good, and when he’s off to hogwarts he’s both mad excited and secretly a bit scared and sad to leave his fam behind.

hogwarts, though, is a BLAST. lee is sorted in gryffindor ( because where else? ) and finds friends, fast. in his own house, outside of it, in his teachers, kind of ( he personally is convinced that minerva mcgonagall adores him, despite her disapproving glares ). he’s okay at his classes -- he has the skills, sure, but not the concentration and focus -- and better at everything else. 

lee starts commentating on quidditch matches after he doesn’t make the team. he’s not broken up about it, in all honesty --- he sees how hard the team has to work and laughs at his mates who have to sweat while he gets to sleep in. commentating is more fun, anyway. it gains him some popularity, some enemies in slytherin, maybe, because he’s not very unbiased in his commentary. he loves his time at hogwarts, in all honesty, even more when he gets that gig.

his father meets his current girlfriend when lee is in his fifth year. they marry in the summer after his sixth year and have their daughter -- zoe -- about a year later. lee loves them. he’s conflicted at first, but he’s happy for his dad, and his baby sister is CUTE AF.

lee jordan is a rebel. in tiny, fun-loving ways ( pulling pranks, cracking jokes, being a bit of a class clown ), but also in a political, angry way. it doesn’t show in his earlier years, but as the war starts, and he grows older, too, he finds his priorities shifting. lee knows injustice. he’s dealt with prejudice his entire life --- at muggle school, at hogwarts, even. and as prejudice and bigotry gains the upper hand in the wizarding world, he grows angrier. restless. 

the DA is a way to rebel more effectively, he supposes. protesting when he’s not in school. cracking open history books when he’s supposed to be practising for his NEWTs ( and he is not taking history ). lee looks at the world and he’s angry, he’s restless, he wants to do something but he does not know what---- because where do you start when so much is wrong?

right now.

lee has graduated hogwarts ( believe me when i say that those last months without fred & george were fucking boring, but he at least got to focus a bit more on his NEWTs ) by now and he’s floundering around. i like to think that he’s working for/with the twins, helping with inventing stuff and marketing kind of things for the www, but if this doesnt mesh with any potential fred/george players, i can 100% alter this skjsdf. 

he wants to do something more, though. tell stories. speak up. journalism has always pulled at him --- not written, but on the telly or radio. he likes music too, of course, and the truth, especially --- and an idea is starting up in his mind. he’s slowly working towards setting up an underground radio, gathering equipment and figuring out ways to organise it. potterwatch is coming, and once the ministry is taken over ( if -- of course, that’s where this rp’s plot takes us ) it will be there, the urgency bigger. i don’t know exactly --- i’ll probably discuss this w sarah too but i think right now potterwatch is just an untitled work in progress.

lee’s not an official order member, but i do think he’s alligned, in one way or another. he’s willing to do what’s right, keeps his DA coin on him because of it, but also tries to take the world with a grain of salt, still. laughter is what makes him feel alive, and everything else he does to stay alive, to still make this world a livable place. 

rebel boi.

personality & tidbits.

lee is a dank meme lordt who would be an icon on social media, if we had it. he just likes dumb ass humour. a bit of a class clown --- he just likes attention, but he also likes making people laugh and having a good. fucking. time.

lee is hilarious and it’s the truth.

he rly loves his fam!! is worried abt them!! he still lives at home its  a blast but he wants to move out tbakjdsf. 

his mother doesnt rly ... idk he does think of her as his mother but not rly as part of his family, bc family is not blood anyway. he’s had a few good talks w her since he’s grown older tho but it’s a sore, complicated spot.

lee loves music a Lot. hip hop, trip hop, some punk here and there ... bonus points if it’s a political bop!!

has the mouth of a sailor and now that he’s out of school he doesnt even try to fight it. no mcgonagall around to tell him off after all!!!

enjoys smoking pot & drinking beers w his buds. just -- letting go, having a laff and relaxing to the fullest. likes watching muggle tv when high especially, such a hobby!!!

idk!!!!!!!!!!!! will add more mayhaps???

[davidjjohnston3]

1. Others' innocence can make us feel more alive and cleanly but we have sooner or later to 'cleanse the inside of your own cup' (Jesus).

2. I miss 'sis.'  That's all. I'm not married at 36.5 but someone did say, 'as a sister.'

3. I listened to Sowon's cover of 'Happy' and wrote a letter to Taeyeon on Instagram that she said something nice to.

4. I have several wishes pace Pope Francis' 'Come Let Us Dream' in the Covid era.  One of these is to move to Korea of course again, another to move to LA, and another to publish under the imprint of (Mrs.) Catherine Cho's literary imprint as 'Inferno' was terrifying to me in a good way and I too encountered both racism, antagonism towards introverts and quiet people, warehousing by TV, and other forms of evil and crime in the mental healthcare system from people who just want money or, worse in a way, fun and PRIDE.  I also think now that the mental healthcare system in Milwaukee Conuty was designed to give nursing school graduates either an 'easy money' job or exposure to a new Nazi-like system pace abortion-culture under the Democratic Party (including at least one Asian sadly; Andrew Yang), in which the mentally abnormal are considered second-class citizens if not Hitlerian 'life unworthy of life.' My parents are Democrats incidentally and fully support this.

5. I am pro-life 100%; I was going to be aborted and my biological 'father in law' still wants to post-partum-abort me; I could describe the spiritual realization but it's anatomical as well as literally electric.  I hope and pray the pro-life movement will be able to present a living paradigm whereby the value of orphan life can be demonstrated and God glorifide in a literal 'spirit of adoption' or at least a very good orphanage.  This has been part of my dream or 'ghost' since at least 2010.

6. I was driving to see Bethlehem Baptist Church + Bethlehem College and Seminary in Minneapolis and felt a crucifying energy from the church; I also thought about Monica and the 'white garments' of righteousness and covered sin ('white as snow' - Isaiah).  

7. I don't want to 'nuke the Johnston clan' but as I was brutally attacked by both my parents in a campaign involving widespread exaggeration lying to both biomedical professionals / sci-tech establishment as well as civil authority (police) I have written some notes and passages of a 'purple and gold' project, 'Johnston Family Promises; or How Easter Became April Fools,' which could be characterized as a parody of self-destruction, specifically self-post-partum-abortion by reversing the fact that medical doctor brain trust thought I'd be born on April Fool's but was actually born on Easter Sunday in Los Angeles, CA.  

8. I just want a future at this point however as my biological 'family' turned violently against me and I am in the position of 'gathering in the summer' (Proverbs).

9. I thought, 'an authentic love'... I love Changrae Lee also but it took me a long time to understand the spiritual 'Requiem' sense of his best book, by far, 'The Surrendered.'  Koreans I sometimes think are the one race or rather _ _ now taking the past seriously without throwing away the future.  With Secretary Pompeo I feel America could fall in on itself or at least on people like me, including many vulnerable loved ones of all of yours, my Facebook friends.

10. On a lighter note I like (Ms. / Artist) Kim Taeyeon's 'Cover Up' - 'I can't cover up my heart.'  

11. I still like Baskin Robbins Pineapple Coconut thoguh for some reason it makes me think of being a billionaire world-saving commerce-warrior in financial triller Michael Kim's 'Offerings.''

12. I gave the wrong things to the wrong people and made them worse; I expect to be judged by Moses as well as my former teacher-trainers and mentors for being 's/Sensei' who failed his students in both senses of fail (gave them F's and failed to teach them things that made them 'better').  It was a traumatic experience that made me feel demoted from EdAdmin that I had just been offered to wanting to assist-teach K4 or Spec/ExcepEd.  That's what you get for 'adult education' / being honest with Boomers about your thoughts, feelings, and decades of study.  I think Confuciu would say you can't teach constructively who have no sense of shame (old American whites), and moreover participate in a rape-culture including both literal rape, sex-traficking, university campus-culture, porneia,

13. I haven't yet had an EKG but could have experienced acute idiopathic cardiac distress from the Pfizer vaccine since too many beautiful women ages 11-80 all love me.  I thought a while back at 36, 'How to use my last half of my life.'  Then suddenly with pericardial effusion on my mind I thought, 'What to do with 3 months to 2.8 years.'  I wanted to go to Korea; I saw a Servants of Christ video where she was in Korea walking by a river to 'I Need Thee Every Hour' a Christian hymn to Jesus about absolute dependency, 'most precious Lord.'  I remembered Psalm 23 and a time I just wanted to be buried in a certain cemetery in Incheon.  Some other things happened involving my marital future, 'Skinship,' but now I am hoping for at least 5-10 years as the acute issues have mostly settled down and I am a clever self-dietician.  Honestly though with the state of healthcare in Wisconsin I thought about purchasing a needle myself for a pericardocentesis to drain the H2O.  

14. I have one writing-project I might not complete but I feel a solid start that could / should be published about abortion-culture and based on 'Love in Color,' a popular song by a no-longer-pop-idol.  

15. I still think about expositing American literature but suddenly 'The Old New World' means more to me; the old Midwestern novel, 'Winterlight,' 'My Soul at Night.'  And, 'The Magnificent Ambersons,' destined love.  I had a student in Korea who would be the card-carrying image of Lucy Morgan if they adapted it in addition to Mark Helprin's 'In Sunlight and in Shadow.'  

16. I am (too?) afraid of the Cross of Gold.  America getting rich.  China's 'moderately prosperous nation' i.e. Get Middle Class or Die (and Take World w/ Us) Tryinng.'  I want to be poor and poor-in-spirit except that I love some people who could use the money.  That is part of why I think about Michael B. Kim.

17. I like green peas, peanut butter, and blueberries.

18. The best audiobook I read lately is almost holy to me, 'Inferno' by Catherine Cho but 'Forgotten God' by Francis Chan is also incredible.  I listen to it while sleeping on audio and it always seems to wake me up at the perfect moment.  

19. I finally figured out an 'audience' as well.  If I could finally write a couple novels with a 'professional' utterance in addition to 'Love in Color' my 'caritas et amor' homage to a beautiful song and also something on the Covid era and old and young.  Like Pastor John MacArthur, or with him / following him I just feel like the whole point of Covid was to give people a chance to do better by / with kids.  'We plant the trees; our children enjoy the shade' - a Chinese proverb that the orthodox preacher / shepherd John MacArthur cites nonetheless. The American Families Plan.  Also even more (AUTHENTIC, non-guru-guff, non-fetishistic, non-trends-based) professionalization and humane policing and children's rights within the South Korean public and private schooling sectors.

20. I had one grand project as well called 'The Distant Lights of Seoul' that is kind of my take on 'In Sunlight and in Shadow' but it evolved in to something more personal that that's all... a trip I thought of taking, in the days when I was unsure whether to be the new or old.

21. I remember the most anguished summer of my life till now was 2003.  'Deep Inside of You' by 3EB.  'I would change myself if I could / I would walk with my people if I could find them / and I'd say I'm sorry to you.'  Coincidentally I went on an 'icy-hot' date with a hyper-beautiful woman at the cafe-bar where Jenkins wrote 'Motorcycle Driveby.'

22. I made a 'partial audiobook' of the early Psalms - particularly 5, about God defending - and had a beautiful experience like reading to children.

23. I don't want to broaden myself out too much physically or experientially; I'm afraid of becoming mentally American.  'Leaving Babylon, Leaving America, Leaving Milwaukee, Leaving.'  My homage to Madison Kwon Eunbi as well, theme-music 'Eraser.'  But I have to be a better man to approach my new _.

24. My original 'Korea project' was called 'Transferring to Line Zero' and like many Millennial writers in 2010 I tried to sound like a Haruki Murakami narrator but my experience turned out to be more like Kazuo Ishiguro, Marcel Proust.  I aimed for whisky but got wine.  I wish I could write this as I know for whom.  IDK if anyone cares though as Millennials almost all had 'these.'  I just wish I could make something of it instead of seeming like 'Acute Fangirl's No. 1 Fanboy.'  There wasn't a 'zero.'  

25. I had a crush on Dreamcatcher JiU 'Lily Kim' I saw once in Chicago - 'prettier in real life' is a good way to zonk people out into falling in love with a picture - but I saw a picture of her in traditional Joseon garment and just thought, 'cordial neighbor.'  That's all.

26. I used to write 'nuke Harvard' self-hyper-fanfiction about me v. the more customary winners and my ideal project is 'The Chinaman (or Chinese Poet) at American-Korean Thanksgiving.'

27. remembering my 2003 self / poet persona

akaka soru no

I thought about snow falling on velvet.  I got in trouble in the neighborhood. I liked Red Velvet's 'Wish Tree.'  I liked Wendy Son and Kim Yerim. A noble name, Son Seungwan, I'll say it once.

Maoists.  I read 'Wild Swans.'   I wanted to join you in your sadness and your beauty but I wasn't being Kawabata Yasunari. I don't want to generalize about my love for you but I don't believe in things either; Time disappears; mathematics inspires my disbelief; I think it can change.

'I love other people.'

What is it when parents grow old Do they go in to a new world They go to Heaven before us They know about being young

Wine, Elizabeth Strout novel 'Protestant endurance' in the old Midwest 'We are different from everybody'

The only question a bomb-threat at the school after 9.11 'Sospiro' fioritura In those days they were innocent 'I would take you seriously' (if I were a teacher) Now they try to be like New Yorkers I am not home

The poem that belonged to everyone flower a flower Can the passive-aggressive therapist Chinese girlfriend tea in the morning 'If I had to live with you'

the children of tomorrow where understanding ends require a world

a walk by the river i was old then carrying something i knew how to cook i knew how to live you sang 'dream' i said something like someone once said to me my old love contacted me via e-mail she said she had become materialistic and Republican she looked really good / happy married with kid after Covid-19 anaesthesiologist

28. Dov Danilov had abjected himself; he was known; on one cared.  The only decisive or critical factor... There was that armored 'girlfriend of steel' or perhaps better-than-girlfriend, the trial by ordeal, the one-look judgmentality, but it was all the past.  There was 'When You Are Old' and there had always been the presence of the Other like in 'The New World' with Pocahontas and John Smith; 'Who are you that haunts my dreams?'  That was a gooood movie.  He watched 'The Last Samurai' back in the day and didn't take it seriously but believed it contained good 'advices.'  There was Manheim Wagner's 'Korea: How You Feel' that had a great photo that seemed to mean something about the author's feelings but the book was all about illegal narcotics and sex-trafficking.  There was 'Brother One Fell' but it was all about masturbation and poor diet and illegal narcotics and what the Native Amerrian Indian shepherd-scholar hda called 'Mental Europeanness.'   The shepherd-scholar called himself a 'sheep-rancher.'  It was RU, 2005 autumn. 'Being known and ont cared for,' like HAndong from Dreamcatcher.  Maybe, it was the beginning of the end of the nightmare. - I could eat again a little if I got another love-letter from a female student... or even another bouquet from a gay male student... Maybe I'll mrary a North Korean woman after reunification... Remember 'Honey and Clover?' - Good song. - It's an anime-drama.  Originally it was a dorama.  Pramodh liked it before BLM stole his soul and he death-threated me with Cannibal COrpse and hate.  'Moon River' on pianoforte.  

- 'The Remains of DJ.'  'LA Dream.'  'Red Mansion Dream.'  'Pandemic of Honesty.'  'At the End of the Winter-Light; the Last of the Good Old Wisconsin Blue.'  'John Updike R

and I am not ashamed while my love is near me and I know it will be so till it's time to go So count the storms of winter and then the birds in spring again

'doctrine of unconditional evil'

29. My father acted in a really scary obsessive fashion toward me lately and now suddenly he is just eating and drinking.  

30. Jesus Himself said in the Gospel not to curse your parents.

31. I thought something about 'Sentimental Education' lately.

32. A while ago I wanted to write or read 'stories about families.'

33. I want to return to my '2003' project that predicted bioweapons and stuff but not really.

If I were redoing it I might just make it about 'Honesty' and instead of magic assassins it would be the medical doctor charged with mitigating bioweapon magic damage and the FBI agent investigating the bad guys.  Psalm 5.

34. Wanting to be the spiritual-intellectual successor to Bruce Cumings (hyper-meta historiography of the Korean War and, by extension, Covid, the world, Christ / CHristology, and the problems with non-Asia-based E. Asian Studies academicians or anyone who lacks Confucian scholar-gentleman / 'sunbi' / Scholar in Kingdom of Heaven sincerity).  China buries corrrput intellectuals alive.

35. 'Final Offer' in Time (on Pres. Moon Jaein).  'Peace in Our Time?'  Blessed are the peacemakers; blessed are the pure in heart.  

36. IDK if it's worth saying but - dept. of Anti-Christology or study of Antichrist - the 'first world' as it used to be called by and large seemed to be trending towards Imperium.  I honestly feel as if Barack Obama could be pulling the strings from within the CIA building and David Cameron adn Angela Merkel are in charge of all of Europe, while POpe Francis holds suzerainty of influence if not command-authority over the Spanish-speaking world.  IDK if there is meaningful dissent outside of a few republic-nations such as Poland and South Korea, who paradoxically take on a posture of what Park Chunghee callde 'itnernational responsiblity' despite a history of atrocious suffering and monoethnic somewhat xenophobic traditional social makeup.

37. Flaubert's notes to his supreme masterpiece 'Sentimental Education'... I'll just say... How he taught Frederic Moureau to fall in love with Marie Arnoux; taught himself how to LOVE Marie both before the beginning and after the end of being 'in love' with this mother-paramour.  

That said, I still remember the days when I had 'optimism' and someone said, '[woman] is happy because of you.'

38. I can't write more but do have specific goals, chiefly, master Korean and learn all the basic facts.  Professionals and experts believe in facts; as my Russian Yale MBA friend used to say, 'I am a scientist.'

I wish I had a profession... 'literary criticism of life?'  I am interested in 'the condition of fiction' and 'the logic of pulverization' but I just track John MacArthur.  I need to reconstitute my body and mind then maybe...

Dreams of [doctoral degrees].

39. 2 Timothy, Acts 2, Thessalonians, Revelation, in the Covid era.

40. Dreaming of Bethlehem College and Seminary.

41. Dov Danilov had abjected himself; he was known; on one cared.  The only decisive or critical factor... There was that armored 'girlfriend of steel' or perhaps better-than-girlfriend, the trial by ordeal, the one-look judgmentality, but it was all the past.  There was 'When You Are Old' and there had always been the presence of the Other like in 'The New World' with Pocahontas and John Smith; 'Who are you that haunts my dreams?'  That was a gooood movie.  He watched 'The Last Samurai' back in the day and didn't take it seriously but believed it contained good 'advices.'  There was Manheim Wagner's 'Korea: How You Feel' that had a great photo that seemed to mean something about the author's feelings but the book was all about illegal narcotics and sex-trafficking.  There was 'Brother One Fell' but it was all about masturbation and poor diet and illegal narcotics and what the Native Amerrian Indian shepherd-scholar hda called 'Mental Europeanness.'   The shepherd-scholar called himself a 'sheep-rancher.'  It was RU, 2005 autumn. 'Being known and ont cared for,' like HAndong from Dreamcatcher.  Maybe, it was the beginning of the end of the nightmare. - I could eat again a little if I got another love-letter from a female student... or even another bouquet from a gay male student... Maybe I'll mrary a North Korean woman after reunification... Remember 'Honey and Clover?' - Good song. - It's an anime-drama.  Originally it was a dorama.  Pramodh liked it before BLM stole his soul and he death-threated me with Cannibal COrpse and hate.  'Moon River' on pianoforte.  

- 'The Remains of DJ.'  'LA Dream.'  'Red Mansion Dream.'  'Pandemic of Honesty.'  'At the End of the Winter-Light; the Last of the Good Old Wisconsin Blue.'  'John Updike R

and I am not ashamed while my love is near me and I know it will be so till it's time to go So count the storms of winter and then the birds in spring again

'doctrine of unconditional evil' - humans mistaking themselves for God the Father - abortion-culture - Pope Saint John Paul II 'Humana Vitae'

42. Ideas of Christianity versus praxis and parataxis of Christianity

43. I was fond of Becca on Xanga but not as much as 'Clover' People open so much they can't but close off like a French novel 'humanity-rule' though their psychology of women is 'unconvincing' Glenn Gould ate a lot of eggs he was a hypochrondriac I want to drink 'Delta Covid Winter Summer Wine' and think of Mary HK Choi 'Yolk,' Lear's Cordelia and the real one, caritas / a'ga'pe I hope I don't get kilt with a _ _ _

44. Side- / mini-project 'My Brother's Type' about anti-Asian racism.

45. Ideal YA novel / counter to all corrupt YAL books, 'Clover' from the Promise / Fromis song.  It's beautiful, beauteous, 'fragrance from life to life.'  'I kept wishing for luck until I realized that which I wanted was happiness, yes?'

46. They were bored psychopathic Boomers; retirement had made them cannibal sociopaths.  His mom was like Volumnia in Coriolanus.  He didn't want to think about it.  He remembered Shan by the Han River, 'Fair Love.'  It was ten years ago; he weighed 25 pounds less but his mentality was the same. People were different.  Children were different.  In Wisconsin they evinced a... He was tired of being a bridge between West and East.  No one was curious.

47. I approached something really intense and pure and holy - and absolutely specific - and can't back off or back down without harm to myself.  This might be my last FBI.

48. I was 'boring guy.'

49. Summer rain.

50. That holiness... but also... CVA ('Charity edifieth')...

51. I want to read Korean poetry again as well.  Better poetry than ever, I imagine, better people.  'Perfect Children.'

52. 'And When We Are Older' - A Poem for Someone about My Age

And when we are old it won't necessarily get easier or fall into place or smooth into bonhomie or grow delicate as papery exquisite autumn leaves like the face of Jennifer Aniston and sometimes at the gym my smaller shoulder-muscles push harder but they remind me in this cute, precious way of some kind knowing amid Cross and sword that ever valor is a risk and God has got his hour writ. I thought that by now I would know what it's like to be one flesh with a wife, to watch a daughter practicing pianoforte, play catch with a son in the yard of a house by New Jersey reedy ponds.  That dream began in 1994 and there it stays, between the 'cello-clabbered music-room and gildered auditorium and still, in these institutions, nowhere to confess my love, nowhere to begin, just papers to plan on or wise. I used to love book-reviews, the language of dictionaries that could seem to get life so right, "Validity in Interpretation," the days when newspapers seemed to love me more than my own teachers, Colossians 4:6, editing sprinkled with salt, giving reason for hope, appropriate, apt, jeongdokhada. They get old and old and much is made of the things we can experience; sometimes I think that my dear friend quit Samsung too soon to know how to build his own team and I quit at least three jobs too soon and didn't stay in hot pursuit and now feel almost as if only my thoughts are as brightly alive with a love-light as your face once was. I get so lost at shopping malls, drowning; I don't get what anyone is up to. There was a Monsignor who composed or redacted this immense ethnography of all Korea but it must have broken his heart too, man who never took a wife, knitting red, his memory, the kind of person who arrives as I, watching Pompeo et al, in the hope of a benevolent ruler both forever and for the time being too... My friend used to say I could lead but I couldn't even shut down the snark-machine and Reddit had a field day with me and honestly maybe I've never loved anyone adequately. Let's be young a while more and though I didn't like this as a kid we can talk to the TV like at my grandparents' house long ago and again born on the new day, maybe we'll spend some time married.

53. 'Happy Days'

54. I miss the good K-dramas from Dramafever days though I don't watch television anymore... I wish I did just to rest my eyes... I miss 'Please Come Back Ahjusshi'... He's on the flying aerospace train to Heaven with his tears of contrition but decidees to return to Earth to delete his porn-collection for his wife and daughter surviving him... I deleted my biological father's literary porn collection ('daddy'-stepdaughter coercive / rape; adulterous housewife)... but he tried to send me to death and Hell.

55. It was like autumn in Korea this morning with the lamps and air-moisture; it was like Korean summer this early evening with August rain.

56. I want to regain my purity of literary style but hopefully God willing write something profitable / fruitful.   I might just teach again for pay..

[kirishimahinami]

Ending’s Embrace ( touken week, day 5. )

Summary: It is said, that when you see a reaper, you are soon to die. Touka looks at hers, and wonders why he looks just as hurt as she is. AU.

Notes: I MANAGED TO DO SOMETHING FOR TOUKEN WEEK!! 🙏🏻 I’m so glad. this is an au based on that tumblr post a while back on how people have reapers. I liked the idea. so I turned it into a mini fic. Hope you enjoy! this is angst... welp. idk what came over me. i’m sorry guys!!

Preview:  

She feared the humanity she sees in him when he gives her his one last look for tonight. His brows furrowed, facing upwards and his eyes wide as he looks at her. His lips curve downwards from their neutral line shape, and she cannot figure for the life of her, why does he look just as defeated as she was.  (3.1k)

She could see him inching towards her. The reaper has no scythe, has no weapon in his arms. He is lurking her from behind the lamp post at the edge of the street, hiding in the shadows with his black coat covering him from top to bottom. His glasses shine against the fluorescent light that reveals his face to her, expression hardened to a scowl.

Touka has been seeing him for weeks now. She’s on her deathbed, she realized when she first did. If you see your reaper coming closer and closer, they you must live your life to the fullest, because you shall lose them in the days that are to come.  

This saying was a golden rule by the people of this world. But Touka doesn’t work quite like that. She cannot let herself enjoy her days. She cannot break her uncle’s heart any more than it already is. He never recovered after the crash that killed her family. She didn’t recover either.

Her father, her mother - they all kept their death status a secret, and so will she. Her parents spent the last days of their lives trying to make their children happy instead of making themselves happy. Taking them on trips and running around caring for her and Ayato, instead of letting themselves enjoy the last moments of their lives.

And Ayato. He was a sweet summer child, barely turning four at the time. How couldn’t have she noticed the signs back then, when he called out to a person that was not there. Always trying to reach something beyond him, smiling to what sealed his death. Never crying. He was more scared of worms than his reaper, she realized later on. It made her determined. Made her decide to be brave.

So she looks at the reaper behind her once, and doesn’t look back. Every time she walks, she could hear him walking behind her, in precise steps that don’t let him be any more closer than necessary. His cold aura sends shivers to her spine, and she picks up her pace. She knows he cannot come any closer today, but she can’t help but fear.

Despite all her losses, she was taught to continue forward, that it’s only natural to live while losing things. But dying was not what she feared.

It’s the need to turn around once again and walk up to him. It was the feeling that in the face of death itself, something else is there. Not just the sheer cold he radiates. Not just the distance that remains until the day he takes her from this world.

She feared the humanity she sees in him when he gives her his one last look for tonight. His brows furrowed, facing upwards and his eyes wide as he looks at her. His lips curve downwards from their neutral line shape, and she cannot figure for the life of her, why does he look just as defeated as she was.

She sits on the couch next to her uncle. Uncle Yomo was always quite a weird man. Not bad, but just quiet and guarded. Touka likes sitting with him to drink coffee on cold evenings like these. The snow falling outside made everything just a little calmer as the coffee aroma reached her nostrils, but being with him made her feel the slightest bit safer. The fact he didn’t speak much put them in a comfortable silence.

Today, her reaper was so close that she could see him sitting on the chair in front of her and her uncle. She tried to avoid looking to his side as much as she could. She didn’t want to scare her uncle, or wound him any more than he already does.

Usually Touka was much more comfortable with Yomo, but seeing her reaper only set her on edge. She hadn’t done this since she had been a little girl, but she scooted over closer to Yomo on the couch. He was a guarding raven, wise and aware of how to terrify a person to the bone. If there is one person Touka can trust to calm her, keep her safe, it’s him.

“...Touka?” He asks. It’s always like this. When sees even a smidge of discomfort in her eyes, he would say her name, and it will already be clear to her he wants to know what is the problem. Touka forces a smile, a sigh escaping her lips as brings her legs up to hug them.

“It’s nothing. I’m just a little cold. I think there are starting to be icicles outside…” She lets out a fake laugh, and Yomo sips his coffee as he nods. He takes a blanket that is on the next couch to them and gives it to her. She smiles at him back, covering herself. From some reason, her reaper shifts in his place, hiding his face from her now.

It’s not much. It’s a small, old blanket. It wasn’t made of the best fabric in the market, it wasn’t the most comfortable. But it felt like home. Touka remembers the day she had gotten the blanket, no matter how much she tries to forget it. It was the day after the car crash, when they had told her her little brother and mother had died already. Only her father was still fighting his fate in the surgery room.

She remembers a small boy coming by her as she waited outside of ER, waiting for the results of her father’s operation. She remembers him giving her this small blanket, telling her to cover up, because it is night and she will get cold, waiting the way she did on those freezing metal chairs.

“I’m here because my mother is sick… She has a fever. One of her coworkers made her go when they noticed. So I’m waiting until she feels better.” He told her, as she refused to say a word. Touka wiped her tears with her small hand, both her eyes and skin reddish.

Touka was silent, but she wanted to scream, to warn him - people don’t always tell you when the end is there. That his mother might not get better. Because every second that passed by today proved her that more and more.

Her family did not stay with her, and it was getting colder as the fact was sinking in her brain. She has lost fate in her father to come out alive from this. She heard the whispers of the doctors, she doesn’t need to know more.

The boy around her wrapped the blanket around her himself when he saw she wasn’t doing anything with the blanket. His big grey eyes looked at her unsure as he did, if it was okay.

“You need this more than I do. It’ll be alright.” The boy told her. He said, looking back, to the distance. He looks a bit troubled himself, if she had to be honest. “What’s your name?” he asked her, smiling despite everything else.

“Touka.” Can she say Kirishima, when her entire family is gone? she didn’t even have grandparents with the name alive. He smiled.

“Kirishima-chan, I’m Kaneki Ken. My mother is in the next room to where your family been. You can come by and eat with us. my mother’s coworker also made her cake.” He gave her one last kind look, and waved goodbye as he walked to his room.

And she was alone, waiting in the lit, white hall in front of the double doors. A doctor comes out of the ER a few hours later, when it is already early morning, waking her up from a weak slumber she had fallen into.

“I’m… missy, I’m sorry. Do you have any other family member we can call?” He asks her, eyes full of guilt.

Touka covers herself in the blanket Kaneki has brought her the day before, covering herself and shielding her face from the world around her as she cries.

This blanket would be her only source of warmth for days to come.

Today, Touka was tutoring one of the favorite girls she knows across the neighborhood in biology. Her name was Hinami Fueguchi and she was a small, sixteen year old sunshine. A private school child, well mannered and sweet, though a little bit shy.

She was one of those people that made your heart melt quickly, with naivety and curiousness being the main qualities she presents.

“Nee-chan, I know this is not biology, but do you know what the answer for this question?” Hinami asks her, pulling out a Japanese notebook. It was a simple choice question, simply asking how a kanji is supposed to be read. It was high leveled though.

Touka wasn’t the best in Japanese, but she could try. She pondered between the options. This is something that would be on her tests - you learn that kanji when in college, she believed. Biting her lips, she tried to process what is the right answer. Hinami was always so ambitious when it came to Japanese…

Suddenly, Touka saw a hand coming to her vision line. She looked forward in shock as she saw her reaper, now only table length away from her pointing at answer number three. Her stomach was in a turmoil. Was that a thing, that reapers will suddenly act more as your last day is approaching? It was hard to remain calm at this point.

Touka circles the answer with a pen she had in hand, giving the notebook back to Hinami. “I-I think it��s this one.” She forced out a laugh, averting her eyes from her reaper as much as possible. The girl in front of her pursued her lips, not understanding Touka’s bizarre actions.

“Nee-chan…. Can I ask you about something personal? My mom doesn’t know about this….” Hinami asks her another question. Touka tilted her head in response. There was barely anything Ryouko did not know about her daughter - they had the closest mother-daughter relationship she had seen. She calmed herself down from the scare her reaper has given her, breathed in the cold air in the room and nodded.

“Of course.”

“I, uh… Have been seeing my reaper lately…” She told her and Touka’s breath hitched. Even if she must live with losses - does she have to lose everyone around her? Her mouth was gaping and she was about to panic, but Hinami immediately raises her hands, waving them around in defense. “I’m fine! he’s still pretty far away… But today…”

“But today what?” She asked her urgently, her tone piercing. If there is anything out of the ordinary, something has to be done.

“I… came over here, and I could see him when we were outside the house crying…” Hinami clutched her skirt, her fists tightened on the fabric. She was a bit shaky as she said that. “He always looked neutral as he watched me, but today he just broke down and I… don’t know what to think of that. Is something going to happen to me? Did something happen to him? I am….” With no warning, tears welled up in the corners of her eyes.

Touka scooted over to Hinami, hugging her tightly, muffling her wails. “Reapers…. are strange things, Hinami. You can never know what is going on with them. But you will be alright. Some things will reveal themselves to us as they come.” She said, looking at her reaper, hoping from some answers in his eyes that hide themselves behind his glasses, as Hinami’s tears stained her shirt.

She almost wanted to cry herself when she saw him mouthing “I’m sorry.”

She was in her bed, sitting straight as her reaper stood near her, leaning on the wall. It was nerve wracking. In any moment today, she can die. But she will not know when, she will not know how, until the moment will come. Should she write goodbye letters? Does she even have the time to by now?

Somehow, her reaper looks more pained then she is. It annoyed her. She was going to die, but he is the one with the sour expression. Does he pity her? She doesn’t need it. She lived through the past few days knowing exactly what’s going to happen.

Touka glares daggers at him, despite the fact he is completely focused on the wall in front of them, not letting himself look at her at all.

She wished that at those moments, she would see that kind boy from the hospital once again. That he would be there to give her a blanket or a cake send her off with one last pinch of sweetness. That boy disappeared so long ago - She was told by the hospital staff that his mother died, and now they have no way of contacting him.

Touka was so sad at the time - She wanted to return him the blanket he gave her, as he probably needed it just as much as she had at the time. Touka remembers fondly how he let her into his mother’s room, let her stuff her face with the cake he talked about earlier as she cried and waited for her uncle to arrive to the hospital.

He didn’t force her to talk, didn’t tell her anything unnecessary. Just waited with her until she could bring herself to wipe her tears and snot away from her face. He was a calming warmth for the coldest day she had been through her life. She wished she could return him the favor.

She wished everything was that easy, but it’s not. He wasn’t there anymore for her to return him the favor, and she had no more time for that either. The blanket was on her today - she couldn’t bring herself to part from it as the coldness that erupted from the reaper near her touched her skin. She was so, so cold.

Touka rose from her bed, going towards the heater in the end of her room. The cold around her was numbing her body, she could not stay in place anymore.  She took the blanket with her, laying it on her as she sat across the heater, her palms spreaded out towards the machine. Her reaper sat behind her, watching her quietly as she tried to warm herself up. Neither of them said a word. Touka looked back at him. He had beautiful grey eyes behind his glasses. It still made her mad the he was acting depressed when it was her that is going to disappear soon, but the sadness in his eyes made him seem as if he was grieving himself.

“...Why are you looking at me like that?” She asked him.

No answer.

“Why did you help me that day with Hinami?” She asked again, a bit louder than before.

No answer.

“Why won’t you tell me what’s your problem?!” She shouted at him, grabbing onto his coat, pulling him towards her, growing madder as the seconds pass.

“Touka.” It became hot. Too hot, suddenly. He talked to her and something in her cracked. He smiled at her sadly as he took her hand in hers. She couldn’t breathe. Everything was so hot, firey, she couldn’t concentrate, she was sweating, her legs burned.

“W-What are you doing to me?” She said, her voice choked, eyes still locked on to his pale grey ones. She felt a scorch all across her body. He hugged her, pulling her close to him. His body was so cool, it enabled her relief - but it still didn’t explain why everything hurt.

“Touka, Look down.” He looked down at the ground, and her eyes went to the same place as his, and soon widened. Her blanket got caught on fire. The wooden flooring did as well, and the fire climbed up to her clothes. The flames danced around in colors of orange, yellow and red, and she felt the burnt.

She held on to her reaper. Her reaper, her cold, saving grace that protected her from the pain that spread around her as the fire were feeding on her room and herself. She screamed - everything was so hot, overwhelmingly so, but she still managed to feel droplets of liquid falling down her collarbone. She looked up at her reaper, who was now crying himself.

“I’m sorry, Touka. I should have never brought you that blanket. I… You wouldn’t have been in this situation, if I hadn’t. I’m sorry, Touka. So, so sorry.” He said as he settled his head on her shoulder, the coldness he radiated preventing the flames to rise up beyond her chest.

Brought her the blanket? No, that was Kaneki, that sweet boy with soft dark hair and clear grey eyes. Kaneki brought her the blanket, before he disappeared, before she could bring it to him back. Kaneki did…

But what happened to Kaneki?  a question made her rethink. She barely could even think in this atmosphere, where everything hurt, where her heart pounded like crazy, but she still did. Her reaper - he looks like him, but… how could it even be?

“A-Are you?...” She asked. She was trembling in his arms, everything hurt, but everything that wasn’t this didn’t matter, at this second. Before she disappears, she needs to know.

“I wish…. I could give you more cake, instead of being like this, Touka. I passed on too early for that too.” He said, his smile forced, tears in his eyes falling again down his cheeks as he lifts his face from her shoulder, putting his forehead on hers. He confirmed it. “I-I, always wanted…. to give you the blanket… back. To see you… again.” She says between choking on the lack of air. The house was slowly collapsing, but he held her tightly in her hands, his hold stronger than ever. Even if the house breaks down, she’s in his safe hands.

“I always wanted to see you too.” He tells her, lifting her up in his hands. “We have to go now, Touka.” She held onto him, latched to the black jacket he had on with her last strength. She begged fate he won’t tell her he’ll leave now. She cannot handle it - she just found him.

“Don’t… Leave….” She could only bare to say. Until one she lost is finally back, she doesn’t want to let go.

“From now on, I’ll be able to be by your side. This was my last job before passing on.” He told her, calming her down in his arms as she was starting to lose consciousness. “I’ve always been waiting.” He whispered to her ear, and her eyes fluttered shut.

In a burning house, under the night sky, the moon was shining. A reaper, a soulmate of another that passed before his time, held the one he’s been destined to be with since childhood. Just like the warmth he was to her as a child, he was the cold to numb down her wounds. Finally, they met again.

[zward95]

11/16/2020

Don Otto Ward Jr. AKA Donnie Baseball

1/11/1970 - 11/15/2020

“He will be cremated and scattered everywhere that I know was special to him. From the pitcher's mound at Morton to Hohokam park in Arizona where he played in the adult world series. And some will be left with his mom and dad....not sure the full details. He failed to stop at a stop sign and was hit. They're doing an autopsy to see if maybe he had a heart attack or something” Bobbi-Jo Ward-Herron.”

I can’t believe that you passed away… there is so much I want to say but idk if anything needs to be said. This grief has been different than anything I have experienced before….. There is so much hurt, and sadness for what never was……...I feel guilty and stupid for having good memories of you, because of all that you did… but it is not my duty to tarnish your reputation in the eyes of others, because you did a lot of good. By the ENORMOUS outpouring of care, that part is obvious. You touched the lives of hundreds upon hundreds of people in positive ways. You were the best coach that hundreds of kids ever experienced, you invited everyone in the community over as if they were family. You were willing to learn how to play chess from a 3rd grader and looking on the internet, so their elementary school could have a good coach. You were supportive of all the different things we did; even if you didn’t understand it, you tried. You were known as the best umpire and the human rulebook by friends and angry fans alike. You took pride in your work, and more pride in the fun you could have while doing it. You loved wildly and exuberantly and expressed it with your time, and with your many...many...words. You showed that it was okay to have many facets: band, science, math, sports, emotions, reading, fantasy, D&D, dirt, cars, tools, dogs, food. You showed the importance in questioning things around you, and how important it is to search for your own answers. That it's better to be wrong about something, because then you learned something. You also beat and traumatized your children, would beat and dehumanize other people to let out your aggression, neglected the wishes of your family, chose drugs and freedom over your children, and showed the dangers of utter selfishness. All of these things are true, for your mixed up, funny, dark, drug rampit, baseball loving life. You actively strived to be the biggest asshole in the room, but also be the funniest guy in the room, so everyone would still want you around. You were so socially skilled that you could both bring out the best and the worst of everyone in a room depending on your mood, yet so awkward, you intentionally ignored your impact on the people around you, as to dodge responsibility.

All the happy loving messages from people are nice, and they are just trying to share in the grief and express their sympathies; but they have made me angry at times. Angry for Matt, who has to see all these people with great memories of you caring and showing love and him never getting to have it. Anger for all the times I was held by the throat and slapped for sobbing, which only made it worse. Anger for all the verbal and psychological torment you put upon me and Chris. Anger for the neglect Matt felt. I haven’t put that to words before but that’s what he is feeling…. Because he was never able to see that great person that is held in the social consciousness of sooooo many people… We only have the guy who would brag about his sex parties to his children, that brought criminals and druggies into his family home and got our house robbed because of his negligence, who cussed out all three of his children, said he didn’t give a shit about them and just would rather not be a dad. Stuck with the memories of me spending weekend after weekend driving back to Hammond to try and protect my family from my dad. He was the guy who, post the divorce, my only contact was to get weed; because I am broke and dealing with my health issues, and he had the best prices. There is so much anger there, because for all the happy stories, he kind of mentally broke us all, and none of us were given that closure. Matt specifically, because he had always held on to the hope that he would one day be able to experience the kind father that so many people say existed at one time.

But for me, beneath all that active anger is a true sadness. Growing up you were my best friend for a long time, as my dad, my coach in EVERYTHING, and I can say now also as my abuser. I think we need to see all the good and bad together and it's okay to acknowledge all the good. He was a great coach that invested greatly in the children of the community. He actively tried to bring everyone into the fold of what we called family. He is the reason I have such a love for debate, because I spent most of my childhood figuring out how to form a good argument, and how to defend that position quickly, because otherwise you would get steamrolled by the personality and the continuous firehose of words that constantly flowed from his endlessly moving lips. He showed me that in order to adapt and work with everyone, it is best to be a jack of all trades so you can help everyone. He loved sports and fixing things and shaped my sense of humor. All three of us siblings have the same eating habits as him, which is one thing I would argue he was right about. He showed that life can be fun, while you are still taking care of business.

He was the Dad to all the kids in the neighborhood who did not have a father figure who was around, and I think that is why it is so hard for us, all of us, because he did all that… and then he didn’t…..

And it hurts to know that it just all fell away, and there is no changing that. It is a little hard for all of us, because IDK if I ever wanted to be friends with him again, but DAMMIT I WANTED TO PUNCH HIM ONE MORE TIME lmao. He would have laughed at that, and happily taken an assbeating if it meant we forgave him though……. Idk if that's true... But he said it before and I kind of believed it….

I truly believe that my father could have been better had he not intentionally thrown caution to the wind when it came to mental health and preventative care. When he started going to therapy, he then would come back from therapy and tell me how great it was to talk with a sexy woman, and that he was really thinking he could just turn those into sex visits. I was frustrated to hear that, because it meant that he did not want to follow through. And the horrible moments when he confirmed that he achieved his goals. He knew his own issues, but thought it easier to highlight everyone else’s issues, instead of address his own. He felt that he could not change, and he was who he was, so he might as well drag everyone down with him, and laugh on the way down….. That’s the sad part of it all.. None of us brothers were surprised to hear he passed. We each had different theories of how it might happen, and during darker moments how we really really hoped it would happen, and would make sure it did if there was uncertainty. It just feels sad, because all the anger comes from experience and wanting the craziness to stop, not from a personal hate, but from watching him change and hurt people. We all had wanted him to keep getting help and to try and address the anger, rage, sadness, anxiety, and self-defeating thoughts that ate him up, and came out in those bouts of fury. And, to some extent, I think all of us held on to the hope that it would still happen, that he would apologize and there would be a big fallout, and then years later he would show up at the parties with Bobbi after getting over being shunned for his dick move; or he might actively come to apologize and make amends, because we had all shut him out due to caution from being burned previously… and none of that happened… and that is sad… because I know it hurt him.

Death and Grief makes me think of theatre and the idea of comedy/tragedy. All the different emotions flying around at the same time: happy, fury, hate, contentment, laughter, sadness, disgust, disrespect, anger, love, melancholy, wistfulness, and all of them are there. The tragedy is that this all happened, that the issues weren’t resolved, that my father is passed and we are left having to deal with all the good and the bad that he did in the world, without a person for whom to direct our feelings. We all just get to sit and deal with our shit. But One thing I do know is that Donnie Baseball loves a good joke. He told them endlessly to anyone who would listen, and whether anyone laughed, or if it was a good joke, made no matter as to whether he enjoyed it. So I know there is comedic spin to it, one that my brother Matt pointed out. He now has to answer to his Mom and Dad, Nana Viv & Bonka Don, for all his bad behavior. And I can only imagine their response when they hear what he did to their house, and to their grandchildren. lol

RIP Donnie Baseball - but I know Viv won’t give you any peace for a while still.

11/17/2020

“He died of blunt force trauma. He either fell asleep or was choking on his chew and morning phlegm and went into the drainage ditch at about 50. He didn't suffer. But if he'd been wearing his seatbelt he'd still be here. Just broken.”

“Well he's had 5 seatbelt tickets in the 5 years we've been together. There's definitely a pattern there” Bobbi-Jo

It is incredible, even to the very end just swimming in irony. He spent his life trying to teach others how to live better, and was the best coach, yet died because he wouldn’t take his own advice. Just buckle your seatbelt. Likely still stoned, waking up in the morning, enjoying his chew, he passed away painlessly. Everyone is sad by this because it is not the death anyone felt he deserved, yet it is pretty much exactly what he wanted. He had talked to me about driving off a bridge and ending it painlessly, and doing something he loved and he did just that.

There is still a lot of anger for Bobbi within me. I know there is more within my brothers because they saw the actual actions and impact she had on him. And yet, She is broken and sad now. They were toxic and not great people, yet they made eachother happy, and were willing to work toward each other's happiness with a desire to understand. I don’t think I can say they were an ideal pair, or they were good for eachother, but they loved each other. They each knew love within the other. And it is sad to watch someone lose their lover. And I am glad that there is someone who will mourn and grieve him like he should, and to direct that process of dropping off his ashes, but damn… But that anger again comes from the desire for him to change, and the childish notion that “she changed him” which I know to be wrong and not how things work. Now it is just a process of trying to move forward. She still had a strong hand in the collapse of our family system, but that was instigated by him; and she did try to show love and affection to us, to an extent. She doesn’t deserve the anger…. She is a sad woman whose lover has passed away….

Everything is crazy, I am both happy and sad that you are gone. I am thankful you didn’t hurt, yet I still wish you could appreciate the hurt you caused. You taught innumerable life lessons to likely thousands of kids by modeling both what you should, and what you shouldn’t, do at different times... Our biggest arguments would fall back to the idea of living in a world of black and white, right and wrong, as to living in a world of gray. I argued that there was no completely good or bad, no complete right or wrong and you’d disagreed. You were very binary in your beliefs, this or that, one or the other, which is utterly baffling, considering that you LIVED in the gray area. So here we are, left living in this world and having to acknowledge all the different shades of black and white within your life. And for me, idk if I can call any of it good or bad anymore….And I wish I wasn’t right…. But this world of gray is important, and just because it's a gray world does not mean we won’t enjoy it.

[whimsically-ominously-auspice]

William/Mark was ostracized the other night

Thats why the news about the non-rapes occurred in Oklahoma news because it was regionally broadcast that it occurred in 1999 by qE2

Before a longer story; I just want to say we understand. And no one blames you nor harbors ill will towards your prior belief of understanding.

I just hope you understand the truth and you welcome him in your community as he wishes to be. I further wish you understand he's a true hero and none of this would happened without him. But if youd like to treat him as a normal person no different than you, then thats great. It is what we prefer most because we want everyone to be treated like kings and queens.

He is my true soulmate and he has had to hide that from me and all that hoopla.

I and a previously legless Abu burned down the eQ2 Okmulgee & Oklahoma buildings she owned while he was in jail over a stolen bike that he did not steal.

Jennifer Landsberry had a clone as did William.

Like he's some planet needle like grass needs to grow on.

eQ2 was not quite able to perfect chest hair back then. It was always like a porcupine. She also didn't know how to not make it grow on clones. She could get the scientists to pick out the eggs without for humans but could never do clones.

Clones come from the prostate and sperm for men and for women, where girls wetness comes from and her ovaries. That's all I'll say. Because she did some crazy after that. And that's way too much information even if no one says they're gonna do that... Its been happening since the 70s but i figured it out in 1984 and 1986 then some one listened in 1994.

So Mark William knew he had a twin But not a clone... Nor did anyone know Jen was a clone. But she was. Then a Stephanie clone kept messing me up and kept me and Mark William apart for enough time for the qE2 to realize she could do more in her plans.

The whole William clone was a mess... He would beat Jen up and she would call me and he would hit her in front of me.

And a whole lot of shit.

And since my real man was in jail and the clones would constantly lie and covet for the qE2... I was lost. And so was all of Okmulgee.

So I came out here to New Mexico. And for the last 19 years I've lived like any lost Okmulgee person. In misery and Hell. Poverty and sadness. Alone but not lonely.

So, i understand believing lies. I wrote William only when I was getting married and pregnant but not after, just 2 baby pictures. Because then i got legally married.

Once after my divorce and told him not to write me if he wanted anything more than pen pals. So he did not respond.

In the last letter i wrote him how escaping jail (with his clone that was arrested for arson) was his choice but how all the cops knew Jen did drops and how the clone had a cell phone and called Jen everyday. And so in legal belief a jury of 10 would 100% decide without discussing that he should be set free. So he should demand a better prison and early release but not parole nor probation. Just release, by the time he was 30 or 40, his choice.

Look at that baby face. He was just a little lamb when they locked him in.

So I did check about 2 years later and he did indeed make two moves and was at a low security prison in 2014.

Alexis Dejoria and William LeGrande began exchanging emails in 2016.

She and Kim Kardashian got him permanently released this summer by paying cash for his release. Which then he turned around and demanded 2x the amount from qE2 and he paid them back exactly what they paid the queen.

He had to promise not to approach me until she was dead. Because i don't approach people or talk to people in like stores unless i see they need help making a purchase or reaching something. Then i offer advise if I know the topic or my arms if i can reach.

And I certainly wouldn't approached him not being aware of clones.

I only found out he was released 6 days ago but i have seen him all in my neighborhood walking around sucking on a lollipop.

Which made me always think "one of us is a sucker but Idk which one of us" because im so used to people following me for different reasons, rapists not wanting to get caught and hiring people to intimidate me, undercover law enforcement, hired hitmen, qE2 I know now, Abus, and all kinds. So I knew he was a follow but how or why i Didn't take my time on.

I would more focus on the times I saw them. I thought that was more important than as to why.

Eventually someone would try to kill me to my face or wouldn't. And if law enforcement did their job, i wouldn't even notice.

So that's why i would count so i could find out how they bypassed security to Kill me to my face. Just in case they did get that far.

So there's a whole ton of his clones under the bunker at my Uncle's. All ready to rip people apart at any time. Of course they're good clones so they have Armageddon protection on top of the qE2 so even Fire don't bother them.

His twin always has a yoyo. And William has always carried an old old yoyo string in his pocket. Until Declan lit it on fire (to prove he was human) after doing karate moves on it. In 2008.

He was fucking lit crazy trying to get the string while JJJR held him back with Matt's help. And I thought it was hilariously funny.

So Declans sub father bought a whole yoyo for William to get the string out of. And Declan made a string ring and bracelet for him.

And he was pleased but was not happy his string was murdered and burnt. So i held his hand although he tried to take it away like i allowed his string to be and I explained "I know how that was the link to your only family" and he wanted to prove his point in loud breath "now now you've proved your point you won't even give me your hand" he slid his hand closer to me but looked away pouty "or even look at me" he slid his eyeball to the corner "now thats better." He wiggled his fingers of his hand i didn't touch "oh now you want me to hold it?!?!" He nodded so I held his fingers "I know how that wa the only link to your family" and he yanked away his hand and turned away to pout. Then sighed and reached deep into his other pocket

"I had two! One for me and one for him!"

"Oh forget it! Now my speech is ruined!"

"Uh no! Im not! Give me the other yoyo!" Said Declan "the other yoyo! I need it! So you can match don't worry about it"

"But I needed two to prove it was -- wait finish your story i bet it was magic..."

"What? Oh. Well Declan burned it for proof you're not a clone, you know after he... Killed it... And So what I was going to continue to say. Honey are you even listening?"

"Shh" he told Declan "let her finish"

"I can't. I need to see little Declans face when i finish, now that you mention it."

"No You don't! I'll be fine!!!"

"Then you'll need a tissue I'll be right back" Declan always turns so no one sees him crying. Just like I do

"Okay as i was saying. Now you have a new family. With us and with--"

His mouth dropped open and he jumped up and ran from where he moved to let Declan size the jewelry to where I stood after dropping his tissue for him on his back like a half sash like George of the Jungle

"I knew it!! I knew it!! That's what he was just saying too!! He said Annie had told him when they were in the room. He wanted to know why you were laughing and why you were happy when he did something bad thats why he made the ring for me! Why do you look so ... Do you want to finish?!? Here measure me!"

"Dec..lan!"

"Oh thank God. I needed that. Wait. I got snot"

"Why do you look so... What? Is it shock??"

"Uh huh" i sunk into the couch and began to cry droplets of tears like rain

"Honey! What's wrong?!"

"Nothing! Every thing is just perfect!!"

Declan gasped and jumped up from his squatted position and gsve me a hug and kiss on the cheek "thanks. I needed that!"

.... See i had been dealing with clones for a few years and a bunch of Declans dad's clones and twins so I was used to people looking familiar. He told me his name was Mark. So I didn't ever realize I was talking to William LeGrande.

He went by Mark because they did like CIA codes to escape. You didn't want to miss your "mark" in their Harriet Tubman land.

And he didn't sleep in my bed.

But I felt more comfortable with him than I did with anyone in my life. Only a bit more than my daughter. Tiny almost unnoticeable amount.

*Declan's soulmate was murdered by an evil clone for punishment for being independent. So Declan's independent ass told me. So I told him i would give him a soulmate because we were both similar thinkers. When he asked. So William got a free pass out and a "regrowth" which they used an injection for. And we made my kid. But inwas drugged then on Xanax so.

[beabeaparker-blog]

The Terrace

Well hello there. I’m Bea and this is my first actual fanfic, so feel free to give me some critical feedback. This is going to be a series, so stay tuned for the second part~

Anyways, if you like this, have your friend read it or something. Idk, anyways, happy reading 💕

Extra Info:

-PeterXFemReader

-Fluff with hints of angst

Fate’s a funny concept, it’s weird to think that every moment could be meant to happen. Of course, you were never one for cinderella stories and happy endings, because life just never seemed to work out for you. Time and time again, life was against you. Sometimes you felt so minuscule, like you could disappear and nobody would even bat an eye.

From the day you were born in Las Vegas, Nevada, to the day you moved away from everything you’d ever known (and by extension everything that ever evoked an emotional reaction from you) you couldn’t remember a time when life worked out your way. No, when your mom told you that her and your father were getting divorced and that she was taking you to New York with her, you weren’t exactly surprised, but you weren’t stoked either.

What you felt, rather than discontent or happiness, was numbness. You were more upset at your father for voluntarily giving you up, and allowing his (soon to be ex) wife to move across the country and rob him of everything he (should have) loved.

You hoped on the day that you and your mother packed up the U-Haul that he’d get on his knees and beg for her back, beg for his family back, but he never did. He didn’t even give you a hug goodbye, in fact, he was no where to be seen on the day you were supposed to leave everything behind.

The drive from Las Vegas to New York was the most boring thing you’d ever experienced. From the moment you finished reading “All my love’s been lost” by Georgia Bernstein for the sixteenth time, to the moment your phone lost service in the Appalachian Mountains, everyday dragged on for what felt like forever.

Sometimes you’d question wether or not the day was going to end, and if the forests would subside. Even though you had your doubts, the sun always set behind the horizon, and the trees eventually turned to rolling planes, and the rolling planes eventually turned into a dense city scape.

You were used to living in a city - and the fast pace lifestyle that went with it, but New York? New york was on a whole new level. The hustle and bustle of the city was real, and the noise was too. The first night you spent in your room, you couldn’t sleep. Not even the windows, brick walls and insulation could stop the sounds of honking cars and angry drivers from penetrating your sanctuary.

It appeared to you like you might never have peace and quiet ever again, and you weren’t quite sure how you felt about that. You tried to stuff pillows over your ears to stop the sound from bothering you, but when you did that of course you felt smothered by the pillows. You sat up in bed, your skin sticky from sweat.

Your room was insufferably hot, and not even throwing your covers off could alleviate the temperature. You quickly walked over to your terrace doors and threw them open. The cool fall wind refreshed your steaming skin. You pulled on a thin cardigan to balance the battle between hot and cold that occurred throughout your body.

You sighed, this was your life now. There was no going back, not even if you wanted to. The sounds of the city seemed to be lulled in your neck of the woods. You could tell from the way everything was quiet that you now lived in an upscale neighborhood. The only sounds that emulated down your street we’re the sounds of 25 year old trophy wives walking their dogs without worry that anyone might attack them and try to steal their purses which were undoubtedly littered with 50 dollar bills.

As you swung your legs over the thick, flat, concrete railing, you took in a deep breath of not-so-fresh air. The air tickles your feet as you dangled them 17 stories off the ground. The wind blew pieces of your hair into your face but you paid them no mind. Instead you were focused on the view. The drop you were dangling your feet over was somehow terrifying yet soothing at the same time.

“Hey, uh, you’re not thinking of jumping are you?” You heard a voice call. Instantly you jolted and whipped your head around, looking for the source of this voice.

You spotted a figure - a man? Was he dangling upside down? The figure moved out of the shadows so that you could see his face, or rather - his mask. Spider-man. For a moment you didn’t say anything, you just looked at him.

“Uh, no, i’m not gonna jump. I was just enjoying the uh- the view.” You stuttered, how else could you explain your situation?

“Right,” Spider-man stretched his word, “You’re admiring the view of the city street...”

He almost sounded as though he didn’t believe you, but you couldn’t blame him. You know what it looked like.

“Not necessarily the city street, but more so how far the drop looks. It’s kinda...invigorating. Is that the right word?” You said aloud. At this point you were kind of letting your raw thoughts roam free.

Within mere moments, he was sitting beside you, only a 12 inch gap between the two of your thighs. It was kind of exciting, you had to admit. On your first day in new york, you were talking to the cities hero late at night, alone. You had no idea how many fan girls would kill to be in your place right now.

“Invigorating is definitely the right word. Coming from a guy that swings from the tops of buildings, I think invigorating would be the only way to describe the feeling.” He said to you.

“There’s exciting too, but let’s be honest, invigorating sounds a bit more sophisticated.” You shrugged, letting a short burst of air be pushed through your parted lips.

“You know looking down at a 17 story drop might be invigorating, but it’s also quite dangerous.” He said.

“Maybe that’s what makes it so invigorating.” You sighed.

He nodded with an understanding that he wasn’t going to be able to keep you from sitting on the edge of your terrace.

“So, where you from?” He asked, swiftly switching the subject. “I don’t think i’ve seen you around.”

“Why would you have? There millions of people that live in this city.” You questioned.

“There might be millions of people in the city, but I think I’d remember seeing your face.” He said nonchalantly.

You tilted your head slightly, “What do you mean Spider-man?”

“Oh- I uh- I- nothing! Nothing at all.” He said rubbing the back of his neck. “Hey, you changed the subject and you didn’t answer my question.”

“What question?”

“Where are you from?” He repeated.

You nodded, normally you would’ve pressed him for answers but he seemed to be uncomfortable and for some reason you didn’t want him to leave.

“I was born in Las Vegas, and I just moved here today actually.” You told him. “I’ve actually been on the road for the last few days, and honestly i’m exhausted but I can’t seem to fall asleep because of all the noise.”

“You’ll get used to the noise, it’s just a part of the city.” He shrugged. “I’ve lived here my whole life, and I think i’m gonna live here for the rest of it, too - seeing as New York always needs protecting.”

“It must be exhausting,”

“What must be exhausting?”

“Trying to keep New York safe while trying to have a normal life too.” You bit your lip. You couldn’t even imagine.

“Oh, yeah. I guess. But I manage.” He nodded.

“You sound like you’re not even out of high school yet, I can’t even begin to understand how much stress you’re under.” You went on.

“It can be stressful at times, it’s sure taken a toll on my grades,” he laughed sarcastically, even though i could tell there was a part of him that regretted not taking better care of himself. “And it kinda sucks that no one can ever know my true identity. Well besides one of my friends who accidentally found out, and my aunt. But besides them, I can’t tell anyone else.”

“Why not?”

“Well, it would just make my life ten times harder than it already is.” He shrugged.

You nodded, you knew you’d never understand his life, but you could sure as hell try. The two of you talked until you could see the black sky fading to a light purple color. You’d never found it so easy to talk to someone in your life. As you watched him swing away, you hoped he’d come back. There was something about him that instantly gained your favor.

But for now, you finally felt tired enough to fall asleep. You closed your terrace doors, and curtains, crawled into your bed which was now somehow the perfect temperature, and drifted right off to sleep. The last thing you were thinking about before falling into a deep sleep was indeed spider-man.

[canaryatlaw]

Ugh, today was fine, even good, I'm just tired and in weird head space right now likely the result of me fucking up taking my medication last night and stopping (or lowering) the Xanax intake, but HEY I didn't fall asleep somewhere between 10:30 and 11 am today so we're probably correct there, which is good because we were at a placement at that point doing an interview and that would've been hella awkward. But anyway. Alarm at 7:40 because we were leaving straight to go to an interview which shifts time a bit so I was supposed to meet my boss outside the courthouse at 9:30. Last time we were set to do this I FUCKING FELL ASLEEP ON THE BUS and missed my stop so I was especially worried about being late, which is dumb because she is chronically late. So I was there at 9:25 ready to go, lol, she however took some longer time to get there (more like 9:50 but she at least texted to say she was gonna be late) but whatever at least it was nice out at that point, it's back to fucking freezing now and I'm so not happy about it. So we were going to what's called a TLP, or temporary living placement, which are basically DCFS controlled placements for wards who are in between 18 and 21 (since Illinois can keep kids in the system until they're 21, which, for all the system's issues, is a much better plan that dumping a newly minted 18 year old out on the street with no resources) where it's somewhat like a dorm, there's a staff person but they can come and go as they please as long as they follow rules and such. We were going like, super far south, like down to 111th street (and if you're familiar with Chicago's street system you know the numbered streets don't even start until you're south of the loop and I live way north of the loop) and yeah, basically the further south you get the worse the neighborhoods get (I could've sworn they filmed a few scenes from APB at the park across the street from this place. I don't want to be too loose with personal details for obvious reasons, but this girl had very good reason to want out of the neighborhood for her and her 2 year old son (whose father was shot and killed at the end of April). Her son was very cute though. And she's honestly doing better than a lot of "kids" in her situation would be, she has a decent amount of her shit together so it'll probably be just a question of following through. So after that interview we stopped at Potbelly for sandwiches and so my boss could get her Mountain Dew fix (she's like addicted) and then she got upset that their syrup to fizz ratio was messed up on the fountain soda machine and complained and I was laughing really hard because I was very amused. From there we went back to the office where I finished off the DCP summary I was working on then started digging into the case file for the permanency hearing I'm doing on Monday. I started with the DCP packet since that's generally the start of the case, and it came in as a lock out but at trial they ended up getting no-fault dependency findings (what we refer to as dep-c) meaning she was taken into care because her parents couldn't handle her mental problems, not because her parents refused to let her back in their home (which, for the record, is abuse and neglect when your kid is 13). We tend to argue against these findings a lot since they're generally not in the kids best interest so I was kind of irritated to find out they got only a dep-c finding at trial when her parents fucking locked her out, like that's not a dependency case IMO. But anyway. That was several years ago, since then she'd gotten to return home and then was sadly brought back into the system. I'll have to read the attorneys notes to figure out the logistics of why (other than her parents couldn't handle her behavior again), I was going through the orders on the case to see the legal status when my boss showed up and asked the lady with the office across from mine if they were allowed to bring law clerks to psych hospitals for interviews, so of course my ears perked up at that, and pretty soon after we were going off to interview a 17 year old boy who had been on run for like, a year (the system SUCKS and teens literally just run away and don't get found for months upon months). The report we got said he had told a police officer he was having suicidal ideation which brought him to the psych hospital, however upon arriving he had a different story which I won't get too much into for privacy reasons but he really did not want to be there anymore and was like "I told the cop I was slightly depressed but I wanted to go to a shelter to get back into placement" which I'm sure he played down some for our sakes but while he was kind of worked up when we got there for the duration of the interview he presented as rational and really not struggling from any immediate signs of mental illness, so I really don't know if he did need to be there. He kept saying he doesn't feel safe there because he watched the staff have to restrain a kid and he described it as them just beating the crap out of the kid, and like that's a fine line because you're generally brought to a psych hospital for your own safety, but by doing so are also surrounded by individuals who could compromise your safety. They're having an emergency staffing for him on Monday though and hopefully they can get him into a TLP (and if not probably a residential facility, but that's where he went on run from so that'd be less than helpful). He seemed fairly determined to get his act together so I hope he succeeds there and doesn't lose it on any of the staff there in the next few days (which yes I know all have challenging jobs, but there were a few comments I overheard that I did not feel particularly comfortable with). But after that we headed back and I just had my boss drop me at the loop because I had to grab my prescriptions from target (my high dose acid reflux med and the new one my psychiatrist just prescribed) then I was meeting up with my roommate being that she works downtown too. Not gonna lie, sitting in the hallway of the psych hospital was a weird feeling for me. It feels like a lifetime ago that I was dealing with my best friend being locked in one for a week with no contact and me 500 miles away and completely helpless. The story doesn't hurt as much anymore, but sitting there today it just felt a million miles away from where I was now. The girl from this morning was 20, I mean, I'm only 5 years older than her....that's not a lot. Idk where I'm going with this, it was just weird I guess. I never really got close to getting psych hospitalized (mostly because I didn't tell anybody I knew would get me in one that I was suicidal) but I have had multiple friends in them over the years and I know they're not great places to be in. So all of this was kind of playing in my mind as I picked up my psych meds. From there I walked over to the building my roommate works in since she didn't get off till 5:30, so I chilled in the lobby of her office for like 15 minutes while guys in suits walked in and out and made various jokes, lol. She's a receptionist and she says she doesn't do much except watch tv and process bills sometimes but it sure as hell pays a lot better than Starbucks and she's got some acting stuff in the works so hey good for her. When she got off we took the train a few stops to right where my old apartment was and went to a pizza place by there that was pretty good. From there we caught a bus a few streets over and took that down to the movie theatre to see guardians of the Galaxy 2. We were almost the only ones in the theatre, but a couple other people showed up once the previews started (I don't think I've seen any of the planet of the apes movies, but I'm kind of awed at their ability to keep coming up with new ones by just adding two words in front of the title) and then we were going. It was good, different than I expected but I don't really know specifically what I was expecting, probably just something that would tie in more with marvel's infinity wars end game here with the infinity stones and such, since they seem to be pulling that end of it into the final battle for the universe they're gonna wind up in. The weird gold people they end up making enemies of were odd, and it kind of had my wondering if whatever that douche who's a top guy at marvel that did all the hydra captain America nazi shit (Nick Spencer? Is that his name? Idk) had something to do with their characterization as his vilification of people being overly politically correct, but I doubt that was actually how that happened. It was a lot more emotional than the first for obvious reasons, and the general type of story was different. I liked Nebula and Gamora's story arc, as awful as their childhoods had been I'm glad they were still able to find reconciliation with each other (even if Nebula is still out to kill Thanos, if that's a possibility). The whole final battle sequence was pretty good, obviously weird setting but I think they did it well. FUCKING BABY GROOT WAS SO DAMN CUTE and they better be making stuffed animals of him because I want one immediately. I really couldn't get over though how the ravager that ends up staying with them was Kurt from Gilmore Girls and that actor has obviously aged quite a bit but he still looks JUST like Kurt and I placed him immediately, and then I felt kind of bad for the guy that he'll probably never have another acting job where people don't immediately think "oh, it's Kurt from Gilmore Girls). It's probably good his character ended up being a little nutty. I can't fucking remember the blue guy's name (my life, even though I was trying to commit it to memory) but I actually really liked how they did his redemption arc which I didn't really expect because I really wasn't a fan of his character up to this point, but they managed to paint it really well in the comparison of oh you think he kept you away from your great dad to help you steal things to oh he was protecting you after knowing what happened to the other kids. DAMN THOUGH, Kurt Russell (not gonna lie, I thought that was Jeff Goldblum up until looking it up on IMDb right before writing that) was so good as being the great and powerful god at first and then he turned so quickly and DAMN was he a creepy as fuck villain. The moments Nebula and Gamora find the caves full of bones and then when Mantis (who btw the only thing I could think about while watching her was how minus the weird buggy things her costume was totally the female version of the smallville green arrow costume) said they were his children it was such an OH SHIT moment I was like getting chills. I think that's most of what I wanted to say. I'm sure they'll make it mean something in the continuity of the marvel universe, but it didn't seem to add much to the infinity stone centered plot at least (which was pretty much the entire plot of the first). Also, when they were in the battle scene and Gamora and Nebula kept getting like, whipped back and forth, all I could think was well this is not the same marvel universe where Gwen Stacey dies because obviously their physics are on a whole other level (that was mostly a joke though, I don't know enough about that series to make an actual comment). When we got out of th movie it was back to being COLD AS FUCK but we ended up in an uber pool because it was cheap, so it was the two of us and some college kid (or maybe grad, idk I wasn't paying attention to his conversation) and a driver that was pretty good with conversation up until the end it got a little ermm but he got most of the way at least. And then I got ready for bed because my head still feels weird but I clearly had to get all of this out or I wouldn't be able to sleep. I think I realized the headspace thing somewhere during the movie because at first I just thought that like we were sitting too close to the screen or maybe I was developing eye problems because it was like hard for me to track their movements and bring it into focus, but I'm at least glad that my eyesight is still ok. Okay, I'm done now. Yay for tomorrow being Friday. Goodnight pals. Happy Friday.