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trashlie · 1 year

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ILY FP 231

ALRIGHTY KIDS WHO’S READY FOR STALKYOO WEEKEND WHO’S READY FOR ME TO TALK NONSTOP ABOUT ILY AND TENSION AND FEELINGS AND EXECUTION AND SUBTEXT I’M RARING TO GO picture me frothing at the mouth rattling the bars of my cage because that’s been me and that WILL remain me!

Look I’m about to choke out 246 different posts but I’m going to do my best to try to keep this one on topic... but we know how I get so uhhhh. Brace yourselves lmao

This episode is just CATNIP for me, and I know I keep saying that but forgive me, everything we’ve been getting in these arcs is jus tailor-made, it’s the stuff I feast on, it’s got me scurrying up walls like a lil lizard chewing on the rafters shrieking like a banshee. I am FED and I am addicted and I WANT MORE!!!!!!!

Nana + Shinae is just unhinged chaos I was completely unprepared for and getting to see them play out more in this episode is a HOOT. I say this with affection, but I am SO GLAD she’s not MY grandma cos WOW I, too, would be so embarrassed. (Actually she reminds me a lot of my mom, pls understand the embarrassment I have endured at her hand!) Shinae and Nana bonding over their mutual dislike for Rand was SO funny - like oh shit wait you don’t like that old geezer OR that witch? Oh you have TASTE (also there’s a subtle little... dig if we want to call it that “Oh I like this one” [eyes]). All the while Nol just sits by watching with that EXPRESSION LMAO

In fact, all of Nol’s expressions are SO funny and SO good! I cannot get over his deeply mortified blushing when Nana called the headband his “comfort headband” and pretty much aired that he was so upset that he was fiddling with it lmao LIKE COME ON (BUT ALSO HER INSINUATIONS? NANA U NASTY FREAK LMAOOOOOOO implying he’d done something unholy with it I SIMPLY CANNOT) His expression as he fucking!!! Throws!!!!! His blanket over her with his lil eye buggin out? PURE COMEDY I LOVE IT

But obviously the meat and potatoes of this episode is the Shinae Nol confrontation - and the elephant in the room. Nol says so much while saying so little - the subtext is off the charts and it’s INSANE to me that they are just.... confessing between the lines lmao

Let me get this out of the way, my favorite point to yell about: Nol cannot resist Shinae. He tries and he always fails. He is so weak in the face of her - and now he finally understands why. She doesn’t seem to realize it, but she manages to elicit truth out of him, she keeps him rooted to the spot. He’ll purposefully distance himself from her - angle away, sit away - but he still ends up angled in towards her, drawn in. She gets to him in a way that, as far as we can tell, no one else can. It’s what made it so difficult for him to actually part with her - why he stumbled and clutched her before he finally snipped the cord, why he had to block her and when she got around that (her message in his spam) he had to drown it out with alcohol. Her gravitational pull on him is so great and he is now aware of it.

I think he did have every intention to talk to her. Maybe he wasn’t going to be as open as we hope. He seemed like he wanted to at least try to clear something up. But his tune completely changed after she brought up Dieter, after she made him realize that Dieter saw it all, that he knew what Nol knows. Ngl I find this simultaneously funny and frustrating because it DOES put them in such a precarious position and Shinae is just SO unaware of it yet!!!!

Nol knows that when it’s just them, things cease to matter. It’s the way he phrases things - like how he talks about when they thought everyone was asleep, because it was that cloak of secrecy that allowed him to be so bold. It was the belief that the whole world was asleep and they were alone in their bubble, no thoughts, nothing else, acting on their whims. He knows he made a move on her, and he knows it was intentional, and it would never have happened if Dieter and Soushi were awake. But that’s the thing about when Nol is alone with Shinae - he seems to forget everything else. She disarms him and he acts on his whims.

The range of his expression is so good here - going from guarded and cautious to the moment he’s putting the dots together and he closes his eyes and screws up his face. Nol isn’t an asshole - he knows what Dieter must be feeling, what it must be like to have witnessed that, to listen in on that. Shinae may not have processed how loaded it was, but Nol can see it easily from Dieter’s perspective.

And here’s the thing about Dieter, too. He’s not a fool, he knows what he’s up against. I don’t mean it in that he’s competing with Nol, really, but we know he compares his relationship with Shinae to other peoples’ relationships with her. We’ve seen him voice his insecurity to Minhyuk - that he doesn’t have with her what Nol does. When he told Shinae she loves Nol, he obviously meant it as a friend, the way he does - but I still think he was voicing a fear that he already had in his heart. Like Nol, though, Dieter isn’t good at resisting Shinae, and he lets his hope build up when he knows better. Dieter knew he was playing with fire.

That doesn’t make it hurt any less, though - to basically have it confirmed almost behind your back. Dieter can see it for what it was - not just the way Nol was acting, the way he looked at her, the way he literally put the moves on her lol but it was the way she received it, the way she flusters under his gaze. It was how she stayed at his side the whole time, how her concern for him outshines her need for sleep or food.

Nol’s guilt is SO strong, it permeates this episode, but I think it’s also very much twisted with his fear. It’s easier to use the guilt, to frame around that, because in his mind he fucks things up all the time, he makes things worse, his existence creates more problems. I love that Shinae calls him out on the fact that it’s not his fault that his plan to get her and Dieter together didn’t work because it’s true. While he’s not wrong to some degree - pushing Dieter and Shinae to be friends does kind of prolong the pain, at the end of the day, they all make their choices. Dieter chose to collect those moments with Shinae knowing they were supposed to be strictly platonic, everything as friends. Shinae still chose to confide in him, to open up, to let him in. Just because Nol pushed the friendship it doesn’t mean they had no agency in the matter.

But obviously the real issue is not that he pushed them, that it draws out the pain for Dieter. It’s that he did all of that and in the end, he was the one who hurt him the most. It wasn’t that Shinae didn’t reciprocate - it was that Nol has feelings, too.

Now, I want to make a point here that I’m sure we’re all on the same page about. No one is really “at fault” here. It’s not like anyone has done anything wrong. Sure we can argue that Shinae has gotten Dieter’s hopes up unintentionally. Sure we can argue that liking someone your friend likes is bad. But human feelings are messy and don’t exist in a vacuum of good vs bad. The whole thing about dibs is so gross in general - it denies someone agency and instead rests on those who like them. Is Nol a bad friend for falling for someone his friend also likes? Is Shinae a bad person for falling for the friend of the guy who likes her? Obviously there are things that need to be cleared up - she needs to sort out her feelings for them, but the point remains. No one is at fault.

But that doesn’t mean Nol won’t feel guilty, won’t feel like an asshole for finding a new way to hurt the people he cares about.

I know this sounds crazy but I kind of lmao like the way he told Shinae she needs to go, that “You can’t be here alone with me any longer.”

Nol has acknowledged his role in this. He acknowledges the way he deliberately hurt Dieter, even though it wasn’t his intention. And what’s more is what he’s not saying - the subtext. That she can’t be alone with him because they will continue to say and do things that will hurt Dieter, that will create more pain. Nol knows how easily Shinae can disarm him if he’s not vigilante. All it takes is her bringing him ease again, him falling back into that comfort, forgetting the rest of the world, acting on it again.

There’s something that feels so urgent about it? Intense? That she NEEDS to go because he doesn’t have the willpower any more. That he’s trying REALLY HARD to be a good person, a good friend, but it’s so difficult. He says it every which way besides with words, and if you read between the lines he’s practically screaming it out loud.

I actually think he’s handling it pretty well, even if it doesn’t clear things up for Shinae in the moment. He’s acting on Dieter’s behalf - but also on his own. And hers. Shinae needs to come to the conclusion he has and it’s not for him to tell her. Part of why it’s so easy for Shinae to let herself feel that way with Dieter is because she knows he likes her. He’s safe and comfortable. Had he never confessed would she think anything of the way he looks at her? Would she think anything of the comfort he brings her? But because she knows, it has affected her view. I don’t say that like it’s a bad thing, because we all respond to people based on how they feel about us, I think. But if Nol were to speak those words out loud, if he were to tell her “it’s because I like you!” how would it make her feel? Would it influence what she thinks about him? Surely it would!

Nol is trying to get Shinae to come to the same realization he has, and more so, he’s trying to get her to be clear about her feelings. Do you like me or not? Do you act this way with everyone? He sees the way she gets flustered, he knows the effect he’s got on her. He’s probably sure she reciprocates those feelings and hasn’t figured it out yet - but there’s still a shadow of a doubt. There’s still the fact that maybe he’s reading into it, maybe he’s seeing something that isn’t there. Maybe she’s someone who cares about him and he’s misread it because he’s so desperate to matter to someone, anyone.

Look we all know better, but we also know how doubts persist!

There’s so much ANGST but it’s SO good! It’s not angst for the sake of angst, it’s not drawing something out just to make the story last. Nol’s expressions cause me PAIN, Shinae’s make me ACHE. He feels like a guilty asshole, he wants her to go, but he can’t even look at her and say it - he looks away, his mouth set in that way holding back all the things he believes he should not say. Honestly they are so good at hurting each other ;______; it hurts ME, too!

But also, I get it. I’m with Nol here. How can he bear to look at her when he’s pushing her away again? How can he bear to look at her when it’s all his fault (according to him). He can’t even look at her when he tells her Dieter was awake the whole time. It’s such a loaded statement but unfortunately it doesn’t QUITE land because Shinae can’t quite grasp the significance.

Actually this whole part is both so funny and so unbearable to me lmao because Nol is all but saying that Dieter oversaw them having a very non-platonic moment and she’s like i don’t get it why’s that a big deal LMAOOOOOO ;____; Nol is going THROUGH it okay! She keeps insisting that it meant nothing, that it’s just friends, what’s wrong with that. And Nol can’t come out and say the truth - that it looked romantic that it felt romantic, that he meant all of it and that’s why it’s so wrong. The whole time he’s trying to get her to understand WHY that hurts Dieter and she’s just hurting him at the same time LMAO OUCH

I LOVE those panels where we can’t see their faces - where it’s Nol’s frustration and anguish that she doesn’t get it, that he’s trying, that he feels awful because of course those feelings are still there why wouldn’t they be. His frustration, the faint lines on Shinae’s face.

Maybe it’s there at the back of her mind - something faint, something distant. Maybe for a moment she understands what Nol isn’t saying, the implications of what Dieter oversaw, overheard. But if it, she doesn’t acknowledge it at all.

Nol’s hand over his face in frustration, that panel where we close in on his eye and Shinae says “You’re not intentionally trying to hurt him!” But... he is. Maybe he doesn’t want to hurt Dieter - but he IS intentionally doing things that hurt him. And he still wants to! That’s the thing, that’s why he needs her to go. It’s so easy to fall into that, to act on that, to forget Dieter exists and instead indulge a little. It may not be his intention to hurt Dieter, but it’s his intention to do things that WOULD hurt him, and she doesn’t get it.

But GOD lmao the way she just starts to rub salt in the wound!!!!! “Whatever he thinks is just a misunderstanding. There’s NOTHING going on here!”

In ILY universe, nothing is always Nol. There is Nol going on here.

And look, I feel for him here, a LOT. This must be SO hard!!!! Not just the pushing her away, not just knowing he hurt Dieter, but having this whole conversation, her not getting it, her taking a moment that clearly meant SO MUCH to him and saying it meant nothing. Again, there’s so much that is LOADED when she says “We’re all friends here!” and he says that resolute “No”, his eyes hidden from us, his hands firm on the wheelchair.

Shinae misconstrues it as no, we aren’t all friends, but what Nol means is that no it’s not just friends. It’s two different people who like her a lot. It’s knowing he acted on something that hurt his friend. That moment wasn’t platonic, wasn’t just friendship - not for him. Clearly she’s unready to see it, but he knows it. No. We’re not friends here - we are people who like you so very much.

GOD, THE ANGST, THE ANGUISH. I AM SWINGING FROM THE RAFTERS I’M HOOTING.

I LOVE the moment he says he can’t take this - he can’t keep having this conversation, can’t take being shut down like this, can’t handle her downplaying a significant moment. If she wants to tell herself it was nothing but to keep reiterating it to him? Unbearable! But also I LOVE that Shinae stands her group and puts her foot down, I love her calling him out because like I get it! I understand both of them. She’s had no time to process any of this, all she knows is she wants him to stop pushing her away, she wants him to stop boxing her out, she wants him to be OPEN.

In a way, they are fighting for the same thing, but they keep obstructing each other. They want the same thing but they’re speaking in different languages. He WANTS her to see it - that it wasn’t a platonic moment, that he meant it that it matters that their fingerprints are all over it. He wants her to see what Dieter saw. She wants him to show himself, to open up, to stop hiding, to be vulnerable. They are trying SO HARD to get the same thing, but they just keep butting heads and getting in each others’ way.

AND WHEN SHE TELLS NOL THAT SHE’S NOT NOT INTERESTED IN DATING DIETER? OH MY /GOD/ lmao alkjfkjafkjafkjafkjja alfjakfjj SHRIEKS

Not ONLY has she basically downplayed this whole romantic moment, downplayed whatever is transpiring between them but she goes on to say SHE’S NOT NOT INTERESTED IN DIETER?! LMAOOOOOOOOO Again I reiterate no one is at fault here!!!!!! But lmaooooo the OUCHIES of this whole conversation! Isn’t it bad enough that she says it was nothing it doesn’t mean anything, and then she goes on to be like I mean i don’t totally NOT not like him idk..... LMAO

He’s clearly frustrated both in trying to get her to understand what he isn’t voicing, but also because he seems like such a resolute person? Or at least, he tries to be. I assume it’s kind of like... he realized he likes her and that’s it. It’s not that he thinks he might like her, it’s not that he might have some feelings. He knows he’s all in, all feelings, all eyes on her. And she appears so wishy washy - flirting with him but doesn’t acknowledge it, unintentionally stringing Dieter along and igniting that hope.

And the thing is she isn’t doing any of this maliciously. She’s tried to be clear with Dieter! It’s not her fault that he keeps getting his hopes up. She’s had no time to process her feelings for Nol, has had no experiences to compare any of this to. I love this conversation between them because it illuminates how little Shinae knows about feelings, about love, about romance. She hasn’t let anyone in in a long time, has guarded herself so tightly, and now that she has, how is she to understand the ways they affect her, what their significance means?

It’s easy to see why she keeps trying to box her feelings about Nol into a box they don’t fit. Of course she cares, of course she worries, that’s what friends do. It’s not that she cares, though - it’s why. Does she care as a friend or does she care as something else? That’s what he’s trying to get her to answer - and I think he got close. But she needs to distance herself from the night, too. She needs to dwell on those feelings - and not just the intensity of trying to hang on to him, but the other feelings, too. The butterflies, the fluttering, the fluster, the way she can’t meet his gaze, the way she starts to fluster if he looks at her for too long.

Someone said that Shinae is practically confessing to Nol and doesn’t even realize it and my god they’re right lmao. The way Shinae argues back that she knows Nol didn’t like it when she left after they danced, that she knows he was bummed, can you really throw all that away what we’ve been through, how effortless we are? lmao SHE REALLY JUST. Goes on saying it!!! AND SHE DOESN’T RECOGNIZE IT FOR WHAT IT WAS.

(I mean she did a whole damn love soliloquy in front of Minhyuk for Nol so like. It’s been an all night thing lmao)

Also it hurt when Nol admits that Dieter doesn’t have that with Shinae - not even as her friend. Even if she does not not want to date him, even if a part of her DOES like him - does it compare to what she feels about Nol? Does it compare to what he means to her? He can’t look her in the eye, and even as she tries to play it off, to say hey all friendships are different does it really matter SHE can’t meet his eye.

Consciously Shinae may not be aware of it but on some level she must know. On some subconscious level, that ghost of a thought passes by, a faint wave of shame. She doesn’t share with Dieter what she shares with Nol. It’s true that there’s something there, but it’s something she’s avoiding, something she consciously cannot face yet.

BUT LISTEN, MY GOD. NOL ASKING HER WHY SHE CARES /SCREAMS JUST SCREAMS ALJKFKJAFJKAFLJ AFJALJJAF AFJAKFJFA

He’s pushing!!!!!!!!!!!

I love that Nol is a ball of contradiction. He wants Shinae to acknowledge what he isn’t saying out loud, he wants her to realize that it means something to him, that there are feelings, that it’s not platonic, and he wants her to acknowledge so she understands why he’s pushing her away. But I think he also wants her to admit it herself. Confirm what he suspects. She fights SO hard but she can’t say why. She cares so much but she can’t elaborate.

Convince me.

LKJFKJAF LAJFKAJFA F /SCALES THE WALLS PARKOURS ACROSS ALL THE ROOFS IN THE NEIGHBORBOOD.

He knows. HE KNOWS. Convince him he’s wrong. Convince him it’s not what he thinks. Convince her that her extent of care of need her desperate desire to keep hold of him to make him show himself to her to be vulnerable with him is platonic. Convince him.

AND SHE CAN’T!!!!!!!!!

Again, she averts her gaze! Again, she flusters and blushes. Again he disarms her just by looking at her and he takes advantage of the moment to finally kick her out.

GOD WHAT AN EPISODE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I JUST WANNA BARK BARK BARK WOOOOF RLKJJKJ RRRRGGHHR RRRRHGHGHG LDKJC YIP YIP YIP

IT’S SO GOOD. THE SUBTEXT, THE EXPRESSIONS, THE DANCE AROUND THE ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM, THE ANGST, THE EMOTIONS.

And no matter which standpoint you look at it from it’s just GOOD.

Nol feels guilty, like an asshole, he has hurt his friend. But more than that - it’s how he knows he can’t be alone with her, how he knows he can’t stop himself any more from acting on what he wants. He needs to PHYSICALLY remove her because that’s how little resistance he has, because that’s how much she gets to him, how much she affects him. It’s the way it hurts to have this conversation - where if he says the words out loud it makes them real and it becomes a weight she has to carry. If he can make her reach the conclusion on her own, maybe it won’t be so bad. He won’t have to deal with the pain if she doesn’t reciprocate - if she comes to the right conclusion and keeps her distance. If he says them out loud and she has to turn him down? He can’t handle that he can’t bear it. But at the same time, every time she denies that their shared moment meant nothing, that the way he looked at her, the way he treated her (HOW HE TOUCHED HER?????) was just platonic to him???? HOW CAN HE BEAR TO ENDURE THAT CONVERSATION?!

And it’s not that it means nothing - she just needs the space and time to process it, to really play out what happened. I think, too, on some level she IS subconsciously repressing it. Isn’t it scary? Especially because Nol is a person who comes and goes, who pushes her away and then shares these intense moments and then shoves her away again. What good is it to acknowledge what he means when she can barely keep a hold on him as a friend, when she can barely make him understand his significance. Nol and Dieter both are such good friends to her, people she can rely on, people who make her feel safe. Sure Nol may not make her feel secure all the time lmao but when it’s just them, when they’re lost in that little world, for the moment, he does. It’s scary, to think of losing any of that. All the relationships she’s ever been privy to have fallen apart. There’s no photos, no memories of her family as a whole unit. She’s seen what Rand and Yui look like. She’s got no experience of her own, and now that she has friends she loves so much, she’s too afraid to lose them.

How can she begin to dissect what Nol means to her when it makes him feel more fleeting? How can she begin to understand what exists between them is romantic when she’s never really witnessed a healthy successful romance exist?

The thing that makes friends to lovers SUCH a good trope, and why I love it SO MUCH is the stakes, the risk vs the payout. What if you take that step and it all goes wrong? What if you mess it up and you lose someone who is SO important to you, someone who means so much? What if all goes wrong and you can’t put it back together and you make something beautiful all wrong by getting your fingerprints on it and chipping the corners? You start to fear even the possibility because sure it could go well - but if it goes bad you lose it ALL. Everything.

But what is life if you don’t take some risks? Can you live with that regret, if you never take a chance, if you miss out on something you wanted?

That’s the thing about Dieter, isn’t it? He knows the risks. He knows he’s playing with fire, knows he doesn’t quite have with Shinae what Nol does. But he still tries. He still lets his unwavering hope go, even if it hurts him. He can’t ever say he has any regrets because he’s given it his all. Sure, it hurt a LOT and it’s going to, until he gets over her and can find a way to move on, but at least he tried. At least he made the effort and can say that he did his best.

It’s funny that Nol and Shinae stand in that place. She’s doing her best, she’s making an effort so she can’t regret not trying - but she just can’t see the full picture, can’t acknowledge WHY she’s fighting WHY she’s pushing. But Nol is the other part of it, the understanding, but also fear. It’s not just Dieter that stops him. If she continues to deny that it means anything, if she continues to say it was nothing.... that hurts. It’s bad enough to have feelings - but for the person you like to deny them? GOD. ;A;

At this point there’s a lot of conversations that need to be had, and i think I’m looking forward to (hopefully?!) seeing Nol and Dieter talk it out. I think as much as Dieter is hurt, I can’t see him as the kind of person who would stand in the way of his friends happiness. If they make each other happy, who is he to tell Nol to back off or something? Shinae is a person with agency who can make her own choices and if she comes to a realization that she reciprocates Nol’s feelings well.... he can’t really stop her just because she doesn’t like him. He’s not an incel alkfkjafjaf lmao I don’t think it’s the kind of thing that would make him hate either of them.

I’ve said it before but Dieter loves Nol, too, so he can understand why Shinae would fall for him. And likewise, as a person who likes Shinae, I’m sure he can understand how Nol would unintentionally fall. There’s a lot that’s happened between Nol and Shinae that Dieter doesn’t know about - the things that draw them together, that make them reach out to one and other. I think he can probably get that sense - there’s just SOMETHING ELSE there that isn’t with him and Shinae.

I like to think Dieter might encourage Nol, or at the very least perhaps tell him to stop pushing people away. That one of these days he’ll push and she won’t come back and can he really live with that? While Dieter doesn’t know as much as Shinae, he at least seems to have the sense that there’s a profound depth to Nol, that there’s a lot of pain (as evidenced between him and Kousuke) and that his life hasn’t been as easy as Yeonggi made it look, so maybe he, too, will what it means for Nol to open up, to really truly fall for someone who feels the same as him. Who is he to deny their happiness, just because it makes him hurt?

On the other hand, a part of me dreads Dieter and Shinae talking because WHEW BOY we know it’s going to hurt either way it goes. Will she deny her feelings about Nol, try to continue to write them off as friendship because it scares her, because she’s so afraid of losing him that she’s willing to swallow them down, because she doesn’t want it to get in the way? Even if she did, Dieter would see through it. I think now that he’s seen it, really seen it at play, he knows he can’t keep pretending. That’s why he’s distanced himself. If she were to try to play the card that it meant nothing wouldn’t he get more upset that she’s lying? God it just feels like a painful conversation ;___; And if she’s honest with him, if she sets him straight that she should have been clearer, that she hurt him, it just makes it hurt more AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH

JUST AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

All that said, I love how good of a subversion of “why does my kokoro go dokidoki”. It’s not that Shinae is naïve - it’s that she’s inexperienced and scared. It’s that she hasn’t had the time to process, it’s that she has this mix of feelings that she’s had no time to sort them out and untangle them. For so long she held people at arm’s length and now her heart is too full! And because it’s subverting that trope, I don’t think we’ll see it drawn out for a terribly long time, and she’ll put on her big girl pants and try to make it right. Right now she’s afraid to rock the boat. She’s been hurt so many times by people, she doesn’t want to be the one who hurts others, she doesn’t want to be the one who inflicts pain. But I think when she realizes the truth, she’ll realize that trying to ignore it causes more pain, drawn out. That’s what Nol is getting at. That as long as she doesn’t definitively have feelings, it only hurts. It drags out Dieter’s pain every time he thinks there’s a chance. It drags out Nol’s pain, that she can’t sort out the feelings.

I love so much that Shinae cares about peoples’ feelings - especially because in the beginning she so badly wanted to believe she doesn’t care if people think she’s a bitch. She’s so empathetic and caring! But at some point we have to realize that avoiding a problem only makes it worse. It’s so much better to be up front and get it out of the way. Dieter won’t be able to heal until the wound stops getting ripped open. He WILL be okay, he WILL get over. But it won’t happen until she makes things clear.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS SO MANY FEELINGS I HAVEN’T EVEN TALKED ABOUT NOL’S RESOLVE BUT I’M SAVING THAT FOR A SEPARATE POST AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS

#I Love Yoo #ILY Brainrot #ILY FP #ILY Spoilers #Stalkyoo #Shinae Yoo #Nolan Oliver T. Lochlainn #Nol #Dieter Becker-Wulff #Shieter #WHAT MORE CAN I SAY I AM BOUNCING OFF THE WALLS OKAY I JUST HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS I WILL BE BACK TONIGHT WITH MORE THOUGHTSSSSSSSSS #gonna keep the tags short this time because i'm just completely feral RARRLKAJRJAJRRRRrr

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hydrangeyes · 9 months

Text

I ramble about headcanons while reading the artbook:

Here are my notes::

So idk if peeps talk about it but timeline wise I'm going to assume brozone's last concert had to be before the bergen fully captured the trolls.

I'm mainly basing this on the art work from the artbook, as well as how it would make sense how easily the older brothers could just walk off and live their own lives. Given previously with the whole bergen town surrounding the tree, and the only actual safe way out had to be a tunnel they were digging potentially not even ready yet.

So I would assume say a month at least after they left the bergen took over. Which could also play into all of them thinking the other was dead/captured and simply couldn't risk coming back even if they wanted too.

John dory returning when he had more experience and got "floyd's" letter. But for the most part genuinely was fine on his own. Maybe wanting to at least open communications back with his family.

Clay having found his way to Viv (I REFUSE to entertain the thought that he was with them when escaping just didn't contact branch or grandma)

I don't think floyd was even CLOSE to the tree to know. I imagine he did do a solo career but everything was so big and trolls being cared about wasn't till later. Which plays into that image of him playing alone in some alley on mount rageous.

Bruce traveled and maybe sent out a letter that never got received and found himself starting a new life and having kids.

I DIDN'T KNOW BRIDGET AND KING GRISTLE WERE IN THEIR MID TO LATE 20S HUUUHHH

I thought they were at MOST early 20s. Huh. Makes me wonder about the life spans of bergen.

I like to think outside bergen long since learned they don't have to eat trolls to be happy.

I need the extra of Viv consoling Poppy. Cause I need that.

I also need poppy and branch talking about sense of being left by siblings. How branch is still upset but dammit he's just as happy to be around them and singing with them again. How poppy just found a sibling who filled that unknown/forgotten side of her and having to potentially give a family member up. How now she understands branches hesitant to be involved with John dory at the start, etc etc.

I need more solo songs from the brothers. I need those scenes where they're bonding again. (Idk if you can tell but I want a TV series for the movie like the others).

I NEED backstop of the brother's parents and just WHERE are they if we're going with the before the bergen's theory.

I think it's funny before floyd and Branch were born. That Bruce was the middle child to probably dory's older brother and Clay's younger brother shenanigans. And then Clay becomes a middle child himself but not the peace maker kind lmao.

I need to see and hear that talk the sisters have with king peppy. Cause that whole side scene where he feels guilty was NOT enough.

I have this idea that what positivity was to branch in movie 1 is what being silly is to clay. Like it's not that they hate it but being taken serious and not always that one thing is a nice breath of fresh air. And maybe Viv had been someone who was able to welcome both sides for clay.

Branch is a poet idc what anyone says. He doesn't write anything bit he has his moments.

Also Poppy being a Clay stan idc idc idc

I LOVE SEEING MORE TYPES OF TROLLS. especially interesting when they don't seem like the typical singing ones!

Mount outrageous being a place without a single adult is... I have several questions on that. Whether that stayed in the final movie or not....

Concepts of the bergens remind me of old og Shrek designs.

Floyd not just being the more emotionally mature one is nice, he's also generally intelligent and clever/witty (from the artbook). Also, his style being confirmed emo is funny to me. Like, yeah, the hair is obvious, but now it gives me the pass to draw him wearing SO many cool/interesting outfits.

Creek concepts have me feeling annoyed at the fact that yeah... I can see it.

MOVING ON-

#trolls 3 #trolls band together #I have very clear favorites #no but seriously what happened to the bois parents if branch was the last kid?????#also a bestie joked about branch being floyd's twin but was a late hatching will not leave my head idk #i ADORE broppy so much #I love that branch doesnt stay overly saturated showing that while hes healing that deep depression doesnt just go away #trolls floyd #trolls branch #trolls john dory #trolls clay #trolls bruce #trolls viva #trolls king peppy

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howaboutcastiel · 2 years

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That One Angsty Fic (Moon Boys)

Summary: It doesn’t always make sense, but some days are just bad ones. Sometimes you’re your own worst enemy, and it takes losing a battle with yourself to see that. Marc, Steven, and Jake are able to see it, even if you can’t at first.

Author’s Note: This fic was originally supposed to end differently. Writing it was therapeutic for me, and the ending was also supposed to be, but revelations in therapy and changes in medications have made things different. Just… it exists.

Content Warning: ⚠️ Mental illness, sensory overload, anxiety and panic attacks, self harm ideation, self harm (cutting), suicidal language/suggestiveness, kinda graphic depiction. Other stuff I don’t know how to tag, just generally take caution. Hopeful ending.

Word Count 7.3k

Sometimes rabbit holes are hard to climb out of.

Sitting at your desk alone, waiting for your boys to come home, it was easy to dig yourself deeper. The cars on the street below you were too loud. The overhead lights were too bright and the draft from the windows was far too strong. The inclination to sink into your own thoughts was hard to resist, especially since you didn’t realize you were doing it.

Today really fucking sucks. I feel like I can’t do anything. I can’t eat right, I can’t sleep right, and I certainly can’t do my schoolwork correctly. I’m overdue on returning a library book and I haven’t scheduled that very important meeting with my advising professor. Everything is working out and my life is going dandy right now, but holy fucking shit do I feel like a massive failure.

They always say to reach out for help. The professionals say “you have people who love you, they want you to come to them.” God if that isn’t further from the truth. Sure, my mom told me she was proud of me yesterday, even after I told her I can’t graduate with honors like I planned to do. Sure, my friends tell me all the time that I’m funny and smart, but they’re just being nice to me. They don’t like making fun of people. Maybe my grandma cried the other day over the phone because I’m the only grandchild who calls to ask how she’s doing, but I’m just doing what I’m supposed to do.

I’m the bare minimum. I feel like I'm at the bottom of the barrel. I’ll never live up to my potential or to the expectations of the people that I love.

I don’t even think that I’m enough for Steven anymore.

If I’m not enough for him, then I really have nothing at all, don’t I? There’s no question either, if I’m too much of a fuck up for him, I’m certainly not good enough for Marc or even Jake. Hell, the way I’m performing right now, Jake Lockley probably wouldn’t even give me the time of day.

Rabbit holes are hard to climb out of, especially when you’re alone.

There wasn’t anything in particular that made today worse than any of the others. By some metrics, in fact, it was a very good day. You had gotten an A on your midterm exam. You’d found a twenty-dollar bill inside of your coat pocket. Hell, someone had even left your favorite dessert in the break room, and you’d gotten to eat a serving of it between class and work. It should have been a good day, but it just wasn’t.

That’s the thing that people don’t understand about being ill. It’s just that: an illness. It doesn’t matter how much you eat healthy, or how much you exercise. It doesn’t matter how much meditation you do or how much you write in your diary or how much you pray to God—sometimes a day is just going to suck. It’s not rational, or even understandable, but that’s the truth of the matter. Sometimes sick people just… feel sick.

Steven understood that. So did Marc, and so did Jake. If there was anything in this world that they did understand, it’s that sometimes a person can be their own worst enemy. They understood that it wasn’t your fault, and they understood that some days were harder than others. The compassion that you couldn’t have for yourself? Well, they somehow always managed to have it.

You were convinced, though, that they wouldn’t have it today.

This has to be the final straw for them, doesn’t it? They’re going to come home and the dishes won’t be done, the laundry will still be dirty, and there won’t even be dinner on the table for them to eat. I’m going to have to tell them I don’t have a reason for it. I didn’t get it done only because I’m lazy and the lights were too bright. They’re going to laugh at me. They’re going to hate me.

Steven Grant is going to hate me.

I think maybe that’s what I deserve. He's so much more than me, isn’t he? They all are. They’ve been through so much, and yet they’re so strong and so wise. Steven is so kind. But look at me. I’m not… any of those things, am I? I’m all the wrong things. Too big, too awkward, too stupid. I’m not enough for him. I’m not enough for any of them, and I think maybe today they’re going to realize that. I don’t know if I can handle that.

It was half-past seven now. Steven would be coming home from his shift any moment. Or someone would. Whoever was fronting tonight didn’t really matter. It was all going to end the same way, you were convinced. You moved from the desk, tired of the weight on your back, and curled yourself up on the floor of the study. It wasn’t exactly a screaming and crying kind of panic, but it was still panic.

Why can’t I just do more? Why can’t I get up and get all of these chores done, right here and right now? Nothing’s stopping me. I know exactly what to do, I’ve done all of this a million times or more. It’s the easiest thing in the world to do. Why can’t I just get up and do it?

It wasn’t just that, though. How much easier it would have been if it was, but it wasn’t.

Why can’t I do anything right? I can’t even be sad right. Why can’t I cry? Maybe they would understand if I was crying. God, what if they yell at me? I don’t know what to do if they yell at me. Please don’t yell at me. Just get up and do the damn chores. Just do something. Do something.

They’re going to yell at me.

This is all so pathetic. I’m being dramatic, but I don’t know what else to do. I feel like I’m coming out of my skin. I feel like I’m ready to explode or implode or just wither away. I feel like I shouldn’t be feeling like this. I can’t stop it, though, and it makes me feel like I’m insane. I feel like I’m out of control. I want to feel in control. I want to be in control.

I want to be in control. How do I take back control?

You heard the familiar footsteps coming down the hall, instinctively curling in on yourself a little bit more. You had memorized the sound and usually it brought you a warm and welcoming feeling. Today, though, it only made your pounding heart sink deeper into your chest. You braced yourself resignedly for the yelling and anger, or at the very least for the disappointment. Honestly, you didn’t know which one of them was worse.

It was Marc Spector who walked through the front door of the apartment. Admittedly, you couldn’t tell that he was at the front just by his body language, but luckily the boys were used to announcing themselves as they came through the door. It made things easier, and they knew that it comforted you.

“Hey, baby,” he started, the keys clinking in his hands as the door latched shut behind him. He was the only one who called you that. “I didn’t mean to be so late, but we got distracted on the walk home. Why’re you sitting in the dark? Are you here?”

You didn’t have the energy to answer him. Well, you had the energy, but you didn’t have the confidence. That, and you couldn’t really find your voice under all of the panic. Your tongue was too heavy in your mouth, and you were nauseous. You feared if you opened your mouth, it wouldn’t be words that came spilling out. Marc ventured further inside and finally spotted you, hugging your knees in the space between the desk and the wardrobe. He tilted his head and widened his eyes in concern, and you could feel the heat on your face.

“You okay?” He furrowed his brows when you didn’t answer him. You could only look up at him, breathing slowly around the lump in your throat, and you wanted to bury your head right back into your knees when you saw the look on his face. Of course he was going to be concerned, and you were going to have to tell him he had no reason to be. It didn’t make sense for it to be so difficult, though. Why couldn’t you just make yourself speak up? It was the simplest thing.

“Did something happen?” His voice was low and little, and you managed to shake your head at his question. Some other feeling was fighting the paralysis now that he was here, but it wasn’t a good feeling. You could feel the tears welling in your eyes. “No? Well, are you hurt?”

Again, you shook your head. It was technically true, right? You weren’t hurt. You couldn’t really even pinpoint what was wrong with you. He pressed his lips into a thin line, surveying your body for any signs of damage. He found none, so Marc brought his hand up to touch your arm and you instinctively cowered away. You felt guilty as soon as you did it, but you couldn’t bear the thought of the pressure on your skin.

“I don’t know how to help, baby.”

That was what made the tears start to slowly stream. You didn’t feel the need to sob or choke, just to press your nose between your knees and hide your face from him as it contorted into a crying mess. For him to understand, you knew that you had to say something. It was just so hard to get anything out.

“I didn’t do the dishes,” you mumbled. Your admittance confused him and he moved to sit down across from you. You fought back a sob that tried to erupt from your throat. Hearing it out loud, you could understand how your words didn’t quite clear things up for him. “I didn’t do the laundry, either, and I haven’t made dinner.”

“Okay?” He almost laughed, but he could see anguish that you were in, so he stifled it. Marc waited for you to explain yourself further. It became clear you were having trouble with that, so he began to think meticulously through his answer.

“I’m sorry.” A sob broke around your words, but they were still unmistakable. His face twisted again into confusion and something that looked like offense. You hoped it wasn’t that.

“Why are you sorry?” he asked. That was a hard question for you to answer.

“I should have done it by now. I should have finished it all. You should be able to come home to a clean apartment and a warm meal, and I said that I would do it. I should have done it.”

The self-inflicted misogyny aside, he was shocked by your statement. Marc understood the mindset of having to please your housemates. When he was a child, skipping his chores meant more than just a few words of disappointment from his mom. But this wasn’t that. Marc had never, never yelled at you before, and he certainly didn’t expect you to do all of his housework for him. You were partners. You shared the responsibility.

“Honey, they’re just chores,” he tried to explain. He couldn’t imagine exactly where you were coming from, but he’d talked you down from enough panic attacks to at least know where he should start. “It’s okay. It’s not a big deal, and we can order take-out for dinner.”

You felt stupid. He wasn’t even mad, and you’d made such a big deal out of all of it. Of course he wasn’t going to yell at you. Marc would never yell at you. None of them would. You should feel relieved now, right? But you didn’t feel relieved. You just felt stupid.

“You with me?” He peered into your eyes with nothing but genuine softness. You couldn’t resist that look, not even in the state you were in. So, you pretended for him.

You nodded.

“Good. Come on, let’s get you somewhere more comfortable.”

Marc took your hands into his and helped you to your feet. Your limbs were stiff from sitting like that, and your chest was heavy from all of the worry. He gently led you over to the couch, coaxing you to sit down and pulling a throw blanket from the shelf under the coffee table. You shuddered as he opened it and tossed it over you. He noticed that you were shaking.

“I’m gonna order dinner, okay? You need to eat something.” Marc moved to pull his phone out of his coat pocket. You didn’t really feel hungry, more nausea than anything filling your gut right now. “I think that you’ll feel better after that.”

You put on a brave, numb face for the rest of the evening. Well, for the next little while, at least. Marc ordered one of your favorite meals for dinner, making sure to buy so much that you would have leftovers. He wasn’t too great of a cook himself, so he was used to ordering out after a long or busy day. When the food finally came, you nibbled at it just enough to prove to him that you were trying. It tasted pretty good, but you couldn’t be sure you would keep it down, and the thought of swallowing just made you shudder some more.

After a while, Marc had decided that you looked calm enough. He let Steven take control of the body once he finished his meal, the tiring day having weighed on him, too. He made sure to warn his alter to keep tabs on you, noting how you seemed to be having a particularly rough day. Steven had no problem with that, as he was more than happy to give you his attention no matter the circumstances.

He didn’t exactly know what he was getting himself into.

When dinner was done and you’d convinced Steven that you really couldn’t eat any more, he packaged the rest of your food in heat-safe boxes. He also did the dishes, which he meant as a gesture of affection. Steven didn’t realize that his simple act of service would send you farther down the spiral.

Now you felt guilty. Not only had you failed to do the housework you’d promised you would, but now he was picking up your slack. To you, that was just unacceptable. I’m so much more trouble than I’m worth, you thought. Maybe they were just dishes, but they felt like so much more than that to you. They were a symbol of your failure, a symbol of all of the good things that he was and the bad things that you were, and why you could never be deserving of him.

The familiar urge started to bubble in your chest. You knew you should have said something the minute you felt it, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to, not in the middle of the spiral that you’d already begun. It always started as a spike of energy, an ironically paralyzing energy, and a buzzing in your skin. From there, it would grow and evolve and mutate into something else. It was an urge to self-destruct, to punish yourself and gain control. It didn’t make any sense, not in the slightest, and it surely didn’t make sense now, but such was the nature of being ill.

It didn’t have to make sense. It just had to be.

You felt the heat draining from your body as you watched him pass the plates from the sink to the drying rack. The shivering was only beginning, and you knew already that nothing would help you get warm. Not a blanket, not a hug, not a piping hot cup of tea. This was the kind of chill that ran further than skin-deep. The sensation grew outward from your chest. It made you want to press your palms into your eyes and scratch at your skin until it was raw. A lump was starting to thicken in your throat, your saliva becoming too thick to swallow.

I can’t believe I’m letting them baby me like this. I should be taking care of him, not the other way around. They must be so tired of coddling me like this. I wonder if they think I’m too sensitive. They must think that. I am too sensitive. It’s a matter of time before they get enough of it and kick me to the curb. It must be. I just wish I could stop. I have to stop.

Steven was turned away from you, intently focused on the task at hand. He didn’t notice how you had gone pale. He had a chore to complete. He wasn’t one to leave a dish half-washed, so he had to meticulously scrub each plate until he was sure it was clean.

He’s even better than me at this. What else do I have to offer him?

You pulled yourself up from your seat at the table, making sure to drag the legs of the chair against the wood just enough to alert him to the movement. You shuffled over to the couch as he finished up at the sink. When you clicked the power button on the TV remote, it flashed on to reveal some old sitcom you weren’t interested in seeing. It would look normal, though, when Steven dried his hands and emerged from the kitchen to join you. He would think that you were okay, and that was a good thing. You didn’t want him to think that you weren’t okay.

“Can I join?” Steven meekly asked as you scuffled to one side of the couch to make room for him. He was wearing a soft expression that made you feel like he saw you as fragile. He looked away from you as he sat down. “I think I might stay up a bit tonight. I want to read this new book I got about Neferefre.”

“What is that?” You prompted him, knowing you were opening the conversation to a classic Steven Grant infodump. If you looked interested and you got him to start talking, he wouldn’t even notice how much of a mess you’d been today—and how much of a mess you were now.

Steven began his little spiel. The man he spoke of was apparently one of the pharaohs of Egypt, a prince who ascended to the throne and died young. You watched his face light up as he told you about the man. It wasn’t uncommon of him to lose himself entirely in his little stories about ancient Egyptian history. He would speak for hours if you let him, which was a relief, because you certainly didn’t know how to fill any gaps of silence. Steven’s eyes widened and glistened as he went on, touting knowledge to you that would impress even the most prestigious academics of the subject.

His smile was such a pure and innocent thing. Steven was proud of himself, as he very well should have been, and he was happy that someone was here for him to share his knowledge with. It put into perspective for you just how much you didn’t compare. He was a living, breathing encyclopedia. A life-long researcher who would pour his heart and soul into the subjects he loved. In contrast, you were just going through the motions. You had reached your last semester of your undergrad, but you had no passion at all for your major anymore. Maybe you would get some fancy latin honor at your graduation, but you were by no means a good student, and you sure as hell weren’t an expert on the subject.

Why can’t I just stop myself from spiraling? Why can’t I just be someone that he deserves?

It was getting to the point where you were afraid that the feeling in your chest was going to start boiling over. Your skin was on fire and you were covered in a thin layer of icy sweat that did nothing to calm you. You wanted to curl into a ball and rip out your hair. You wanted to rock yourself back and forth with your head between your knees, and you wanted most of all to take yourself apart piece by delicate piece.

The urge was almost overwhelming. You had managed to hide this part of yourself from them for your entire relationship up to this point. Marc had his suspicions about your behavior in the past and Steven had noticed your sensitivity and lapses in communication, but neither of them had ever been there with you when you had an episode of self harm. You’d been in recovery when you first started dating them, and you’d only broken your clean streaks on occasions where they weren’t around. They didn’t really know what to look for and they didn’t know how close to the edge you really were.

You were very, very close to it.

Steven blinked at you confusedly. He’d asked you a question, apparently, and you’d failed to hear it over the pounding thud of your heartbeat inside of your ears. There was no denying that you’d spaced out while talking to him, no pretending your mind wasn’t clearly somewhere far away from here. He raised his eyebrows at you as you widen your gaze and pressed your lips together, pulling yourself back to him.

“Sorry, I just have had a long day, love,” you tried to deflect his unyielding inclination to peer into you. Steven Grant was a caregiver, an innate protector of those who were mentally vulnerable, and you certainly fit that category right now, but you would be damned if you let him baby you. Or, god forbid, worry about you. “I wanted to hear about your Pharoah guy, but I think I’m too tired to take it all in.”

You hoped he would ignore the fact that, despite your words, you seemed to be vibrating with nervous energy. The last thing you’d ever want to do was make Steven worry. You hoped to God that he couldn’t see the panic rising within you, stirring up the familiar frenzy in your limbs and enticing you to have a rendezvous with your razor in the bathroom.

He scooped you into his arms, pressing around you with a calming strength that almost touched the chill underneath your skin. Your body was half-limp as Steven encased you in a sturdy hug. He nuzzled his face into your neck and he breathed you in with an exhausted sigh.

“It’s alright. I’ll talk about him later.” Steven hummed into your skin, no doubt just as tired as Marc had been. “I’m sorry about your long day. It’s okay now, though. You can just relax with me.”

Guilty. Stupid.

“Okay. Thank you, baby.” You swallowed hard and dipped your head into his chest. Steven’s grip around you was strong, but casual. To him, as far as you could tell, you appeared to be doing just fine. A little tired, a little shaky, but overall just fine. That was a good thing, right? You were glad to not be worrying him. But some primal part of you was screaming to tell him you needed his help. You suppressed that part—it was bound to make things worse for you both.

There was silence for a little while. The television droned on, drawing small, breathy laughs from Steven and smiles from you in response to his laughs. The beating of his heart against your ear served to chip slowly away at your unease, dampening the pounding in your head. The pressure in your chest released bit by bit. The unspeakable urge fizzled out from your hands just a little. You finally were starting to feel like you could breathe normally, when a stray thought drew Steven away from the telly.

“When you did laundry today,” the words shot hot iron spikes through your ribcage. You froze in place, “did you happen to see my green button-up? The one with the stripes. I was going to wear it tomorrow to the museum holiday party, but I couldn’t find it when I looked this morning.”

How could you respond to him? You’d have to tell him it wouldn’t be clean in time for the party. You hadn’t washed it. You had not even touched the laundry today, in fact. You’d come home from work a few hours ago and plopped right down at your desk, wasting the evening away instead of doing the chores that you’d promised.

“I’m sorry,” you began. His lips turned downward into a puzzled grimace. “The laundry isn’t done. I don’t know if your shirt is in there, but if it is, it’s not clean. You won’t be able to wear it tomorrow.”

“Oh.” His face remained as puzzled as it was, now tinged with disappointment as well. You couldn’t live with his disapproval, no matter how much your body and mind seemed incapable of performing correctly.

“But I can go wash it right now! It will be ready by morning if I start a load—”

“No, no. Don’t worry about it, darling. It’s late, and it’s just a shirt. I can wear something else to the party. God knows Donna won’t appreciate the effort I put into my outfit anyway.” He bore an uneven smile and grazed the back of your neck with his hand, pushing your head back down to rest on his chest.

The coil around your heart re-tightened.

You laid in his arms as long as you could manage to sit still. Soon enough, the shaking of your bones and the pounding in your chest was so strong that it would be noticeable if you continued to sit in his grasp. So, with a shy cough and a fake, lopsided smile, you excused yourself to the bathroom.

Stupid.

Stupid. Stupid! Stupid! You couldn’t believe the way you were behaving. Why couldn’t you just be normal for one single day? Why did you have to worry your boys, why did you have to be so miserable, and why did your heart still threaten to beat right out of your chest even though Steven had held you in his arms and told you everything was okay? Stupid. So fucking stupid and pathetic and whiny and stupid.

You could feel the ice trickling down your spine, sinking into the curves of your ribs and clenching your muscles tense. The heat of your anger—at yourself and at the world, but mostly at yourself—did nothing to warm the deep chill in your bones.

Be fucking useful for once.

The sound of the electricity was too loud, the light coming under the door too bright. You banged your open palms against your head, curling them into fists and pounding harder when the noise only grew more irritating. Your breathing was rapid and empty, silent tears streamed down your face. Your knuckles drummed against your skull forcefully, over and over and over again, until the action was automatic and numb.

Stop being a burden. Stop being stupid. Steven has been through more shit than you ever will have gone through. You’re a useless fucking partner to him. Stop wasting space.

The dull knocking against your head wasn’t nearly enough. The seething inside your bones demanded something more. Something urgent and strong. You grew tired of the motion and lowered your hands, leaning into the dizzying soreness at the sides of your scalp. Your heart began to calm, unbeknownst to the agony in the rest of your body.

Stop wasting space.

You clutched the vanity. Your now-raw knuckles were white and the room was spinning. Maybe if you’d eaten more, you’d feel the need to throw up.

Stop taking up space.

The way that your hand rose to the medicine cabinet made you feel like an observer inside your own skin. For a passing, ever-so tiny moment, you wondered if this was what Jake felt. What Marc felt. Was this what Steven Grant felt when he wasn’t in control?

No, surely not. This was you taking control.

You weren’t one to show yourself mercy. Even in something like this, where mercy was a severely relative term. The thoughtful thing to have done would have been to grab your razor from the shelf, or taken one of Steven’s replacement razors from the pack beside the mouthwash. A sharp, unyielding weapon for a clean, quick punishment. You didn’t want to cut yourself open, though. That would be too generous, too easy.

You didn’t want something smooth, something to leave pretty and even stripes in delicate skin, like guiding lines on an empty notebook sheet. No, you didn’t want to cut yourself deep. This was visceral, personal. You wanted to rip yourself apart.

From the top shelf, you grabbed the old and rusty scissors that you had left in the bathroom for your spur-of-the-moment haircuts and for cutting tags off of new clothes. They were dull and awkward and hardly able to cut warm butter at this point, which is exactly what you were going for.

Stop. Being. Stupid.

You didn’t know if it made you feel better or made you feel worse, but it made you feel. Digging the blade into your skin, jabbing the open edge into your thigh after pulling parallel strokes on your forearms, it made you feel more in-control than you had all day. It was intoxicating. It was all-consuming. Before you knew it, you had fallen into a trance of sorts and the repetition was only halted by the realization that you had to breathe eventually.

A sharp breath in. Pain. A slow, shaky exhale. Stupid. A stifled cough, a desperate sucking in of air. Useless. A wheezing huff, like a deflating balloon.

Tired.

The blade slipped away from your hand and clattered unenthusiastically onto the floor. There wasn’t nearly as much blood as there could have been. Your teeth chattered, and now, despite having barely grazed dinner, you feared that you might up-chuck. A low groan tumbled out of your lungs as you crouched over the toilet bowl, thick red streams trickling down to the creases of your skin. You heaved once, then twice, then the vague remnants of your dinner were out of your stomach and the pressure against your chest forced a cry from your lips.

You sighed, flushed, and slumped into a weak puddle on the tile. There was a knock at the door.

“Darling?”

No. No. No no no nononono. What did I do? Your mind was racing and your heart had re-started its blunt assault on the inside of your ribs, but your limbs were like jello. Your tongue was like sand. He can’t see me like this!

“You sound like you’re sick. Was it the dinner, love? Let me hold your hair back, at least.”

He can’t see me like this. I can’t do that to him. But you couldn’t move, either. You could barely keep your eyes open. You tried to yell at him to go away, but your lungs were too heavy to muster more than a hoarse whisper. That was if you could even get your lips to part.

Guilty.

You could hear Steven’s breath rattle on the other side of the door. “You’re worrying me. I’m going to open the door now, yeah? Don’t mean to pry, of course, but sure as I don’t, you’ll have hit your head on the sink or something and be out cold—”

He’d turned the knob on the bathroom door—the stupid old thing never did lock correctly, you’d been meaning to get that fixed—and pushed his way inside, only to stop dead in his tracks the moment he saw you.

Your pale and shaking hands clenched your knees, blood lazily tricking into your elbow’s crease and tapping the floor in a steady drip. It wasn’t nearly an amount of blood loss to be worried about, but that didn’t matter to him. There was blood dripping onto the floor, and it was coming from you. Steven’s color drained from his face as he watched the forming puddle for a moment. He didn’t move, his eyes wide and his mouth agape, and his hand still lingering on the doorknob. After a few seconds, he gathered a shaky breath and broke his gaze away.

“What happened?”

His voice was whining, panicky. You could see sweat beading on his forehead as he knelt across from you. He trailed his hand up your arm, looking for the incisions that were causing the flow. His fingers were careful not to touch the long, parallel slits that ran up toward your wrists. You heard a breathless whimper leave his lips as he pulled your arms up, revealing the jagged, shallow puncture wounds in your thighs that looked just as bad.

“Darling, what happened?” He was more urgent now, his voice louder and demanding. “Are you hearing me?”

He grabbed the nearest towel from the shelf under the sink, wrapping it around the wrist closest to him and pressing the other one underneath. Steven’s breathing was shallow and his eyes danced rapidly between your forearms, your thighs, and your face. Try as you might, you couldn’t keep your eyes focused on him. It was all that you could do to keep them open at all. He continued pleading with you, but his voice was distant in your head.

Tired.

“What have you done?” You didn’t know if his intention was for you to answer. “Why did you—what did you do to yourself? I don’t understand. I don’t… I don’t…”

His breath was quickening. You tried to pull your head together, to ignore the pounding in your skull and force your eyes to work. Weakly, you wiggled your fingers. If they could move, perhaps the rest of you could as well. Your tongue was as heavy as lead in your mouth, but you forced it up anyway. The wheezing breath you drew caught his attention immediately.

“I’m sorry.” The tears that had welled in his eyes began spilling over, painting his cheeks as he tried desperately to blink them out of the way. Steven wrung a towel under the sink as you drew another gasp. “You weren’t supposed to see.”

“Why?” He scoffed and you shook your head. The dull thump in your head was winning out. Words were failing you. Apparently they were failing him to, as he couldn’t muster much more than “I don’t understand.”

You had done this enough to know it would take a few minutes for the bleeding to stop. Nothing was deep enough for stitches, though the divots on your legs would threaten to scar for sure. Steven grew more distressed, though, as the seconds ticked forward and the wounds refused to wipe clean. Firm and steady pressure seemed to be too slow a solution and panic was painted plainly on his face.

You felt the need to explain to him. You had to make him understand.

“I had to do it.” He held his breath as you began to speak. Steven looked terrified. “I deserve this. It feels… right. I had to. I had to.”

“No, you didn’t,” he insisted. “You don’t deserve this. Why would you deserve this? Is it because of the laundry? You can’t have done this because of a load of clothes…”

“Not the laundry,” You breathed, interjecting. “It’s everything. I’m not good enough. I can’t do anything right. I’m a waste of space. I have to stop taking up space. Your space.”

“You're not.” He uttered immediately. Steven seemed to be choking on his next words. He stared at the blood soaking through your bandages. “You’re not… you’re…”

He pressed his eyes shut and your voice was loud in your head as you let your own heavy eyelids flutter closed. He’s finally getting it, isn’t he? I’m no good for him. This is the final straw.

More trouble than I’m worth.

Stop wasting space.

You resigned yourself to the damage you’d done to him. The three of them were better off without you here. You’d leave them alone now. They’d kick you out and you’d move back in with your mother. At least she was used to being disappointed by you. You could handle her disdain, but not theirs.

So fucking tired.

“You’re not a waste of space.” His voice broke you away from the deep crevice in your mind that you’d sank into. “Mi Tesoro, how could you ever think that about yourself? You are plenty good enough.”

Jake unwrapped the wounds that Steven had dressed so haphazardly. If medical training was a contest between the three of them, Steven was certainly in line for the bronze, while Jake could perform surgery with kitchen utensils if prompted to. They had finally stopped bleeding, but the cuts needed a layer of antibiotics if they had any chance of healing right. Especially considering the rust on that gross pair of scissors.

“I scared him.” You didn’t need to elaborate. The absolute mess that you’d made of yourself had thrown Steven into a panic, sending him so far back in the headspace that Jake Lockley was forced to come out to take the reins.

“Yes, you did. But he’ll be alright.” Jake’s voice was steady and smooth, and he was finished with your bandages before you even realized it. “You’ll be alright, too. Just try not to mess with these.”

“You’re never going to look at me the same. Any of you.”

“Maybe that’s true,” he admitted, “but that doesn’t matter. You can’t scare us away that easily.”

He lifted you by your shoulders, helping you stand against the bathroom wall. The floor was riddled with blood and towels and bandages, and your shirt and pants were far from clean. Jake was careful not to put pressure on your wounds as he supported your weight. You started toward the living room.

“I would guess that you’ve done this before.” He guided you step by step to the couch. You say gently against the cushion, curling back into a ball as your eyelids gave up altogether on staying open. “But not since I’ve met you. Why did you start this again tonight?”

“I deserved it,” you repeated. There was no other way to explain it, or rather, no explanation you had the energy for. “I needed it.”

“We’re going to talk about this later.” He knew that you didn’t have the energy for a conversation right now. That didn’t mean that he’d save his ultimatum, though. Just because you couldn’t talk didn’t mean he couldn’t. He placed a blanket over you, leaving for a few moments to grab some water and painkillers. Plus, a package of crackers that he would force you to nibble on later.

“You didn’t deserve it. You don’t deserve it. There’s nothing you could ever do to make you worthy of something like that. I can’t speak for the other two, but I’ve never met someone so loving, so wonderful. Eres la mejor persona que he conocido. There’s nothing you’d ever do to make you deserve that.”

Silent tears slipped down your face as he continued, and his voice wavered as he spoke. You assumed, though your eyes wouldn’t open, that we was fighting tears as well.

“You really scared us, but we’re not angry at you. We’re not scared of you. We just can’t bear to see you hurt yourself. You know that you can’t be in pain without us hurting, too. We’re scared because we don’t know how to help. You have to tell us what’s wrong, so we can make sure you don’t hurt anymore.”

“But I need to.” I need to hurt. How else am I going to stay in control?

“No, chica, you don’t.” The cushion shifted underneath you, indicating that he’d sat down beside you. “You need help. Not this. Nothing good comes from this. We don’t want to see you like this. Not ever again.”

How else am I supposed to stay in control?

“Please promise me you’ll talk to me about this, alright? I want to hear all of it. I want to know why this is happening.”

“I don’t want to bother you.” Sleep was weighing on you by now. Thoughts drifted out of your lips without restraint, but they threatened to cease altogether as your limbs grew heavy.

“You won’t bother me. This bothers me. Nothing that you could say would bother me. I want to hear about everything. Every thought that leads to this, you say it to me first.”

There was a pause that almost let you drift off completely.

“That goes for the others as well. We all want you to talk to us. No matter when, no matter where. Okay?”

I can’t put this burden on them—

“Promise me!”

You pried your eyes open one last time. Jake’s gaze was pleading and tears were streaming down his face. He looked plenty burdened already. He was right. Nothing could be worse than this. You couldn’t ever hurt them more than this. And now that the urge had come and passed, the dull ache in your arms and the stinging in your thighs was a sore reminder of how little it was worth it. Not to mention the pain in your head.

“I promise.”

Sometimes, when you say something out loud, you realize how ridiculous it sounds. It helps to keep you in check, and it keeps you from being your own worst enemy. If nothing else, it gives you perspective and keeps you from forgetting your voice. And before you ask, no. I’m not okay, but I am in therapy and on medication. Take it or leave it.

p.s. I started this fic obviously in a bad mood, and then I wrote most of it when I was no longer in a bad mood. For that reason, it may be gibberish. Don’t think of the reader as yourself. That’s probably unhealthy. Thank you to my beta readers, @moonmoonboys and @rmoonstoner

#moon knight #moon boys #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #moon knight angst #angst #masterlist

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kedsandtubesocks · 1 year

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MORE SPOOKY QUESTIONS BECAUSE IM UNHINGED

im really really digging your hc about javi p being respectful towards spirits and lighting candles and having his house cleanse. i just LOVE it. i think his mama was probably very superstitious and he grew up hearing all the stories from her.

OKAY but imagine javi dating a bruja !!!! and he gets to refamiliarize himself with the culture and even joins in with you whenever you're doing witchy stuff <3

This ask came for my throat and you know what you are DOING!!! This is gonna get long so I am already apologizing before hand omg I’m so sorry…

So I think about this photo all the damn time and it used to be my phone background for the longest time and it’s because there’s so much here

But for this ask I wanna point out the rosary and the saint card beside it, I’ve tried so many times to zoom in and see who’s on the card but I think it’s a simple card of La Virgen which would match with the rosary

But okay…I know this isn’t for everyone but for me, especially with the Mexican/Tejano culture I was raised with, there’s this blend of folk traditions and the actual religious belief that I saw first hand like…having a specific Saint you turn to for headaches, my grandma teaching me how to do a egg limpia cleanse when I was little and how you pray over it

I love to think Javi maybe experienced the same too!! Like having his mama pray to St Anthony for lost items around the house or kissing him and Chucho goodbye three times cause that’s the lucky number

And then…seeing the rosary and the prayer card I can see Papa Chucho or mainly Mama Peña maybe falling into that folk type of beliefs and passing it onto Javi

Javi would understand a lot of the little traditions like not sweeping with the broom you use outside because bringing it inside is bad luck or having a certain candle you light when you need extra help with a tough situation

And, I don’t wanna speak too much on a specific type of bruja reader because brujeria is such a wide and variety filled beautiful craft some of it I know might not even fall in this type of folk category but mainly…

There’s so much Javi would just simply respect and that alone is so attractive. He’s a man who might not full understand or even believe but Javi (I feel) believes in love and believes in people and to him that’s where he puts his faith - so whatever his family showed him, or whatever you believe or practice, he’s believing in that, in love and in you

(That maybe didn’t make any sense and I really did ramble omfg I hate my ass)

#I’m sorry if this isn’t too spooky but I think it’s bcs this is the everyday for me!#like lighting candles in the morning or calling my grandma to hear what kind of dreams she had and we both discuss them over morning coffee #there’s just a beautiful range of how the craft is practiced and manifest and I think whatever way it comes Javi is like #yup I’m accepting it whatever you want bb #this ask got away from me again I hate my ass so much #Javi P 🤎#asks and such things 💌

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otakween · 1 year

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Digimon Tamers - Episode 24

This episode was fantastic, so many emotional moments. And we got a new ED (and slightly modified OP)! Going into this episode I was a little annoyed knowing they wouldn't actually be going to the digital world yet, but they did such a good job building up the hype that I think it ended up being very necessary to have one last human world episode. So pumped to see how the next arc plays out!

Notes:

When Takato is like "our town..." in the opening monologue does he mean Tokyo? Shinjuku? Just struck me as kind of funny to call that area a town, but what do I know

Seeing the various ways the kids tell their parents about their journey was super fascinating. I like how they all did it in different ways with varying levels of directness. Honestly I think the "I told them it's a school trip" option made the most sense to me. If this was real life there's no way in hell a parent would allow their 10 year old kid to go off into some dangerous, alien world.

Something about Jian's dad interacting with Terriermon is really cute. It would actually be cool to see a Digimon series with adults as the MCs since they have a different perspective on the world.

Juri mysteriously dodged the question about how she told her parents about the trip. I wasn't sure how to interpret that. Did she just not tell them at all? Does she actually not get along with them?

I think Ruki's departure from her family was probably the most interesting. Her grandma has this sort of sage understanding of the situation while her mom is blissfully unaware. The scene where Ruki dresses up for mom to leave her on a high note was really sad.

Suddenly Culumon is in a lantern-shaped cage. Lol where did that come from?

Some interesting Yamaki moments. I guess he's realized the error of his ways and is now on the kids' side? Kinda abrupt, but I can dig it. (Also, he was more handsome than usual this episode teehee)

The scene with the teacher was insane! The kids just flat out tell her they're leaving school and she's like "wtf?? what am I supposed to do with this knowledge!?" In America at least, teachers would probably be expected to report something like this, but they did already tell their parents so...I understand why this kind of breaks her. Like...how is she supposed to just carry on like normal? Moumantai my butt!

Takato's dad's support kinda had me sighing and rolling my eyes, but oh well. Can't project my real world context onto things I guess

^The appropriate reaction. I feel like if the parents had witnessed some digimon battles and saw what their kids were capable of, I might buy it a little more. But Takato's mom & dad just found out that Guilmon exists!

lol @ Shiuchon just kind of rolling with it when she finds out that Terriermon is real. It was nice to finally see them talk to each other. Hopefully Terriermon can set boundaries with her now when he gets back.

Yamaki at the end being like "I'm jealous" is the stand in for me, the 31 year old watching this and being like "why can't I be a 10 year old going on adventures instead of working my 9-5!"

So pleased that I'm watching this at the perfect time! They kept emphasizing how this is taking place at the end of summer. Love it when things work out that way.

Lots of insert songs this episode + the new ED. I can't wait to listen to them all on their own and soak in the lyrics. I like that the ED has a more mature, somber tone compared to the first one.

Side note: I've been calling Culumon "he," but then saw someone on MAL use "she." When I google it I found that Culumon is likely genderless (unfortunately I also saw some spoilers while googling boohoo). Guess I'll try to use "they" now...

#digimon tamers #digimon #anime

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astraea802 · 11 months

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On Love & Magic (Headless: A Sleepy Hollow Story fic)

Spoilers for finale below

Henrietta was gone.

Kat was gone.

As the four walked back to the main part of town, Brom catching Rip up on everything that had happened the past year, Matilda and Ichabod fell into a silence, Ichabod still balancing the weight of Glory in his arms.

No longer “Absent Glory”, then.

A swirl of feelings like the autumn breeze stirred inside him. Happy for Henrietta, proud they had solved the mystery, grateful to still be alive and awake.

But Kat…

“Did you agree with her?”

Matilda looked up at Ichabod, who was gazing at her with that pathetic, puppy dog face, eyebrows furrowed, shoulders hunched. “Gonna have to get a little more specific there, Ich.”

He stared at the ground. “Kat thought I was just trying to… ‘get in her pants’.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Matilda flinched.

“I mean, I know now she just wanted to stay alive,” he continued. “It was a pretty messed up situation.”

“Yeah. I know.”

He cleared his throat, not sure how to read her blunt tone. “Right. Well… it’s just… it bothers me that she thought that was why I liked her.”

“Can you blame her? I was there the first time you met, remember?” Matilda replied, eyebrow raised. “You were gone the first time she entered the room. You didn’t seriously think it was love at first sight, did you?”

A slight blush brushed his cheeks. “ I-I don’t know. I mean… Look, I’m a scientist.” He emphasized the point by adjusting his glasses. “I know there’re all kinds of biological factors and hormones that go into attraction, stuff that fades unless you build a real, loving foundation over time. But the… y’know, the physical thing didn’t even cross my mind when I saw her.” His blush deepened. “Though I will admit, the way her hair caught the light was… wow.”

Matilda smirked. “Did you know she wasn’t always blonde? She tried to go red for a bit when she was in college.” She swallowed, the smile dropping. “Like her mom.”

Ichabod gave her a wan smile. “I would have liked to see that.”

“I might be able to dig up the pictures. For a price.”

Ichabod nodded. Slowly, he continued, fiddling with the edge of his sleeve. “I think I was just… lonely? Trying to feel something other than sad or anxious for the first time in months? And something about her felt... gosh, I don’t know.”

“Use your words.”

He scoffed at her slightly mocking tone, but looked pensive. “When I saw her, she seemed…” He gestured vaguely with his hands. “…like, mysterious?”

Matilda gave him a dead-eyed look. “Women are not some big mystery. Even Brom knows that. We’re just as human as everyone else. Except for Verla, anyway.”

“No! No,” Ichabod said, holding up his hands. “No, that’s not it. But Kat... she intrigued me, okay? Is that so horrible? She seemed so cool and at ease, not like me.”

She scoffed. “Very true.”

“And she had this air about her. I can’t explain it, but I wanted to understand it.”

Matilda paused, eyes narrowing. “An ‘air about her’?”

“Yeah. Kind of blew me away, pun intended. It was… it feels weird saying this to you, after everything. But being around Kat felt like… magic.” He frowned. “I guess she kind of was, considering.” He sighed. “I just wanted to get to know her. Not just get in her pants – actually know her.” His shoulders fell. “I wish she’d seen that.”

Matilda’s mouth tweaked. “I get that.” She tilted her head. “You know, you are descended from a pretty powerful witch. And Henrietta said you were drawn to Sleepy Hollow.”

Ichabod shrugged. “So? I was born here. If my grandma hadn’t been so against it, I would have been here sooner. Heck, maybe it’s because she forbade it that I wanted to go so badly.”

“Forbade?”

“It’s the grammatically correct term.”

Matilda rolled her eyes, then continued. “Okay, sure. But what if there’s more to it?”

“What do you mean?”

Matilda held his gaze. “The way you described it, it sounds like you weren’t just attracted to Kat. That ‘air about her’ – I felt it too, from the moment I resurrected her. I think you may have sensed something different about Kat the first time you saw her, something people who have known her her whole life didn’t notice.”

He stilled. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying… maybe the Storms blood left a mark on you after all.”

Ichabod, suddenly feeling shaky, gripped the hilt of Glory tighter. “Are-are you serious? Are you sure? Is-is there some way we can test that? Am I, like, a witch too?”

“Woah, steady.” She grabbed his shoulder. “Yes, I’m serious. No, I’m not sure. And no, you’re not a witch, you’d have known by now. I’d have known.”

Ichabod wilted a bit.

“But, yes. I think I do have a test.”

He shook his head, staring out at the trees ahead, the dead leaves on the ground. “Great. So, that’s all it was? Some weird magic sense I didn’t know I had? I don’t know if that’s better or worse. I just… I thought we had a connection. Especially when she said her mom loved astronomy, like me.”

“If it helps, she wasn’t lying. Mrs. Van Tassel really did love that stuff. I always thought she and Kat might’ve had a little witch in them too, but I could never prove it.” Matilda paused. “I did agree with Kat. At first.”

Ichabod stared at her. He’d wanted her to be honest, but to hear her say it almost made him want to curl up in shame.

“Not because I really believed it,” she added, seeing his look. “But, it was… easier. If I had to sacrifice someone else’s life to save my best friend, better it be just some shallow guy, and not someone who really cared about her. Or me. But the more I got to know you, the harder it was to justify that. And, well… you know what happened.”

He nodded. It made sense. “But you don’t think that happened with Kat? She never thought for a second I might actually care about her?”

“I wish I knew. She never admitted it to me, if she did.” She sighed, eyes looking heavy. “It took me a long time to admit it, but dying and coming back changed Kat. She wasn’t the same as she was before. She had all the memories, she didn’t start craving blood or anything, but she wasn’t fully there. We went through the motions, but the warmth was gone. I don’t know if she came back wrong, or if she just couldn’t get over her bitterness about the whole thing. Her dad. Me.”

Ichabod looked up sharply. “You?”

Matilda bit her lip. “Where do you think Baltus got the poison from?”

Ichabod shook his head “Oh god, Matilda…”

But Matilda kept talking as if she hadn’t heard him, staring at the ground with her fingers curling into her palms. “Baltus offered me a huge fee. More than I make at not-a-drugstore in a year. I told him only dose it enough to make Rip sick, that would embarrass him in front of the guests, make people less likely to vote for him, maybe even get him to pull out altogether.” Matilda clicked her tongue, letting out a mirthless chuckle. “But ‘Van Tassels are thorough’, right? Except the bastard wasn’t ‘thorough’ enough to make sure Rip drank the poison instead of his daughter.”

Ichabod could only imagine.

She unclenched her fists, shaking out her hands. “So, yeah. Kat had plenty of reason to be distant. But I thought if she just had a little more time, maybe we could work it out? Maybe I could fix it so we didn’t have to put anyone else to sleep?” She shook her head. “I should have known. We were always on borrowed time.”

Ichabod let the silence linger a moment, before saying, low, “I’m so sorry.”

Matilda finally met his gaze. “I know.” Matilda hugged her arms around herself. “The only thing that actually made her happy this whole year? Was finding out about Headless.”

“That was real?”

Matilda smiled. “That was real. Kat had stopped believing her mother’s stories a long time ago, but you? You gave that back to her.” She shrugged a shoulder. “Wasn’t so thrilled I kept it from her, but still. If it wasn’t for the sleeping ivy, Kat would have been happy to be the one to help you reunite Henrietta with her head.”

Ichabod shrugged. “Wasn’t all me. Brom was the one who broke the whole secret open.”

“My point is, if Kat hadn’t had one foot in the grave already, or if you’d come to town a year sooner… I don’t know. Maybe things would have been different. But what Kat believed? It had nothing to do with you.”

This twisted Ichabod’s heart. “Thanks. But if things had to be the way they are, I… I’m glad you, at least, believe in me.”

Matilda smirked. “Eh. You’re all right.” But it dimmed as soon as she said it. “I just really miss her.”

Without thinking, Ichabod hugged her around the shoulders. She stilled a bit, but let it happen.

In spite of their initial tension, they really were two peas in a pod – a couple of introverted loners who needed a friend.

#headless series #fanfiction #fanfic #halloween #ichabod crane #matilda bishop

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brokenmusicboxwolfe · 4 months

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I am so sorry this has happened to you 🫂 🫂🫂🫂 life is so hard in general rn but for people to deliberately trash a place on top of stealing and violating your space and sense of safety is evil. People are rooting for you, hun, and you're in their thoughts. 🫂🫂🫂🫂

Thanks! I actually REALLY needed that. Not getting to even talk about it to people I know in the real world makes it so much harder.

Today I desperately wanted to tell Mom about it when I called her, but as I was carefully (so as to not make her as upset as me) telling her, a nurse showed up. (She is having some new medical problem). The nurses and aides never even let her say goodbye, so not only did I not get to finish, I didn’t even get the usual “I love you” that I wanted so badly.**

I just wish there was something I could do! I found a padlock and put it on the tin building. A little late, but it they can’t just hit it again. I can’t lock the shop, barn, or coffin room because of the way they are constructed. I can’t secure things to stop thieves from just walking right in.

While I can’t put in a fence, I did dig out the wide gates we had back when we did put a fence up (to keep roaming dogs from killing our cats after a slaughter). It’s almost hilarious to have this gate there. On one side there is nothing to fasten it to, so it’s propped on the A-frame and dead car on one side and the other door of the gate it against a bit of old fence that’s only waist high. And both gates had the bottom beam break when I tried to get them free of decades of vines, so they are sort of wobbly looking. BUT they will serve as a tiny psychological barrier and, better maybe, if they try to go through or around they are likely to make a lot more noise. Maybe this time my dogs will be startled into making a fuss! ***

It’s not enough. I don’t know what would be enough. I get attached to things, especially things that were always there like a fiberglass mold I played in as a child or that clock that sat on the mantle. ****

Like, there has been a row of rocks atop one of the industrial fans. Pop put those “interesting” rocks there as he found them, over twenty years ago, and when I found them knocked off I got really upset and was desperately trying to find them in the grass so I could put them exactly like they were before.

Heck, some of the tools even had a name, like “Hugh” the bush ax. We never said “Get the bush ax”, we’d say “Get Hugh”.

I keep finding more things that were taken or wrecked. It’s draining for me, each time being hit by pain. Today I needed a hammer to do a little repair on Ryoga’s and, damn it, the hammer had been stolen. I’m probably going to be running into stuff for a long time, especially since I didn’t know where everything was to begin with.

**sigh**

I get stealing money or things of value, but with these it seems so random! The stole a “No smoking” sign! They stole a hoe but not the two foot long wrench or post hole digger beside it. They stole the handle for a small socket wrench out of the box but left all the fittings for it. They took a box with a drill and a vice grip, but left them on the ground. They didn’t take that clock I mentioned but smashed the glass and threw it in the bushes where it filled with rain water. They found a box of grandma’s jewelry(I didn’t realize it was out there*****), but while they likely stole something off the top, they didn’t even move anything below or just take the whole box.

I swear, I will always prefer venomous snakes to humans. At least I would always understand why a snake is biting me AND how to avoid it happening again! With people like this….

**Since today I spent the morning cleaning out Ryoga’s place, it may be so awful the call ended up short. My lungs feel like they are full of glue (despite the respirator I had on) and one of my eyes (despite the goggles) had a big ol’ glob of dust hurting it. Reading would have been a bit rough! Yesterday we finished Thief of Time , and today we were going to start Pyramids in out random Pratchett marathon. I’d hate to struggle through the beginning with all it’s new characters…

***Pest barks every time a leaf falls. If he’s awake he barks constantly. Since they had to walk by the dogs, most likely several times, hauling their stealings, I have to assume he was asleep. He does sleep damn soundly, maybe exhausted from always barking! LOL

****The fact I was the one that moved so much of this stuff out there after the floor collapsed in the house makes it worse. I had to put it somewhere, and honestly it all seemed safer there than the house in town. I never thought anyone would risk going out there. Heck, since that bookcase fell over I haven’t gone far into the tin building because it isn’t safe. Is it terrible I wish the other bookcase had fallen on these folks??

***** I’m not as upset about the jewelry as you would expect. No one in my family ever had much in the way gold or jewels. And absolutely not diamonds! Our jewelry may have a LOT of sentimental value, but others would call it “junk”. I know whatever they took wasn’t worth much money, and since I hadn’t really seen this stuff, it didn’t have the personal connection to me that things like Hugh had.

#my day #asks #robbery #thieves #venting #sorry I went on so long

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mahou-furbies · 2 years

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Closing thoughts on Delicious Party Precure

(spoilers)

This ended up being a thoroughly meh season without that many strong points, but at least it didn't have disastrous flaws either.

I've seen some takes that the season was repetitive with the food theme, and while I agree to some extent, as far as I can see every Precure episode in every season is pretty repetitive so that's nothing new, and I can appreciate that the season had a distinct and memorable theme in the first place. And I think the food spirits are cute.

Meanwhile the other plot elements felt somewhat disjointed, like all the mascots have a similar design but only one of them gets a progressively older human form? And also a super special time travel power? And then they just didn't bother to write a mascot for Amane so she just stares awkwardly at nothing when everyone else says their teary goodbyes to their partners in the ending. Also the Lucky Cat statues were vital in the finale but I don't think they were set up enough for that level of importance (or maybe they were, it's not a secret that I don't pay full attention to Precure episodes so maybe this one is just on me).

There were no standout Cures for me this season, Kokone was my fave but I don't think I'll be thinking of her much after the season is over, Ran was teetering on the edge of being annoying, and Amane felt like a watered down version of Eas/Setsuna. Overall having the dark Cure being brainwashed into villainy is kind of a lame plot element if you ask me, there's no drama in turning her to the good side if she was never actually with the bad guys in the first place. And Yui was a super bland heroine to me, she's not the worst pink Cure ever but I struggle to think of anything interesting about her either. Or her relationship with her late grandma was sweet, but I think that's less about her and more about how a close relationship to a dead granny would make any character more lovable.

The villain captains didn't have a lot going for them either, though I did like the running joke how one of them thought their motto was lame. And his tragic backstory was that he felt excluded because he was unable to enjoy food together, and the solution is that the heroes push him into eating anyway and he conveniently likes it this time? That doesn't sound great. As for the main villain, at first I thought that his story of bitterness about feeling slighted by his furry mentor felt random and unrelated to the rest of the themes of the show, but then again sharing food was a major theme and his master plan was not to share any because he was left without as a kid, so alright that checks out.

Rosemary for best character but unfortunately he didn't get to do enough, though to be fair his portrayal was in line with other Precure major supporting characters so it's not really a flaw in this season specifically. Black Pepper was good too, the male characters had to carry the show for me this time around. Though it did feel a little weird how the Cures ended up being somewhat bystanders in the main story, when the most important character drama involving your main villain was between the men.

Also while I did like Black Pepper, that was only when not in relation to Yui because I really did not like their romance. This also isn't really a dig at DeliParty because "serious boy is not-so-secretly in love with the oblivious cheerful shoujo heroine" is a trope I do not enjoy in general. But even if I don't care for the ship, this kind of open endings where we're supposed to find it charming that the heroine remains oblivious really don't appeal to me either. Make them a couple or have her turn him down, or at least end with her understanding his feelings but saying she needs more time to figure out her own, I don't think this non-resolution is cute at all.

Overall this is going to rank pretty low on my Precure list, but at least things are looking up because I'm super excited for Hero Time next season!

#precure #delicious party precure #review I guess

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languageshead · 1 year

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The day I found out about death

CW: pet loss, loss, death, grief

I got my dog when I was 6 years old. Doctors told my parents it would help my autism. At that age I was fully nonverbal learning how to use AAC. My beautiful Lhasa Apso was 5 months old when she came home and we bonded instantanously. I felt to her as I had never felt with anyone else. I learned so much from her, my speech improved, my social skills, motor skills. We were so perfect together my parents decided to get her pregnant after two years. My neighbor had a Lhasa around the same age and that's how I got another baby Lhasa.

In 2020 we found out the older one had heart disease. At first, I couldn't understand how bad it was, but after her heart stopped for the first time I felt like my world was falling apart. We knew she was going to die when she did. Doctors had told us. On that day, dad took me to the mountains. We stayed there the whole day. When we returned home everything was still there, her daughter, her bed, her clothes, everything but her. I didn't cry much, but I dreamt about her for months straight.

Two months later, on New Years Eve I was woken up by my mom screaming. I couldn't understand it at first, but as my brain made sense of the world around me, I realized that my mom was screaming ''my mom died, my mom died''. I had no idea what to do, I walk, not knowing exactly where my feet were taking me. I said nothing and I hugged my mom. I hugged her knowing our lives would never be the same. I hugged her trying to put her broken pieces together but I knew nothing could solve this. I didn't speak for the rest of the day. We returned home that day at 11PM and my grandma wasn't around anymore.

A few weeks later, my dog starts feeling sick. She hadn't been feeling well since her mom died, diagosis was depression. So we didn't think much of it. Vet sends us home with meds and a few days later she is not my baby anymore. She isn't there. She doesn't move, she doesn't ask for my food, she doesn't want to go outside. I knew what was coming. She didn't make it.

I went back to dreaming about them all. Every single night.

My parents thought I wasn't doing well, I wasn't speaking a lot, I wasn't eating well. But I felt fine. I started to look for alternatives, what kind of pet could I have that was low maintaince (mom and dad work and I was starting University) but that could be my friend. Mom was against it, dad said it was fine. A few months later I got a hamster, I named him Moshe but later found out he was a girl. I loved her immediately, she was so friendly and sweet. I worked very hard to make her home perfect for a hamster, I modelled with clay by myself her sand bath and her bathroom, though she didn't use it very well.

When Moshe was just 3 months old she got sick. Vet said her illness was unsual: it could be a one time thing or it could be genetic. Maybe bad breeder, maybe unlucky hamster. The second time she had the same issue I knew it wasn't gonna go away. I took care of her, I took her to the vet, we had an X-Ray on a tiny russian dwarf hamster. We gave her meds. But one day I woke up and found her laying outside, I knew she wasn't gonna make it, there was nothing we could do. My mom insisted on driving me to Uni and while I watched my classes my mom took her to the hospital. My tiny girl was the whole day there, admitted. We took her home for the night and I watched as she took her last breath.

My mom and I walked to a park near our house and while digging up a whole smaller than my hands I felt the world crash around me. I cried like I had never cried before. I buried my baby hamster, but after 6 months I was also buring my two dogs and my grandma. I was crying for all of them, I was crying for all the moments my dogs would miss, I was crying because my grandma didn't see me get accepted into University, I was crying because I had lost half of my family and only in that moment I realized they were truly gone. That day I found out what death was.

I saw people taking their night walks and I couldn't understand that they weren't grieving like I was. I couldn't understand they didn't lose their grandma and I couldn't understand why they weren't crying because I lost my grandma and my two best friends.

All I could see was this tiny hamster on my hand, knowing she would never play with me again and knowing my dogs would never greet me again. I don't quite remember anything that day. I don't know how I got home, I just remember hugging my mom and feeling that I don't understand this world and I don't know how I could go on from that moment.

Grieving as a level 2 autistic person is something I have yet to understand. It's been a year since all of this happened. I have a new dog, I have a new hamster who is doing well and healthy. My grandpa also died a few months ago. And I still dream about them all.

I still don't understand this world.

#autism #autism level 2 #autism spectrum disorder #pet loss #loss #cw grief #autistic #tw death

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theladyofbloodshed · 2 years

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A little dive into Elsa's character... Spoilers for all of book 1 below

Elsa Sigrún Vesperis

Originally, Old was to be called Vesperis and it was to be an island kingdom in which Elsa was the princess who had to be smuggled out for her safety. I then thought “nah” as it was done to death, but I quite liked the name Vesperis. I just picked the name Elsa because I liked it and wanted to have Barin call her Elsy. Then I was visiting my grandma and one of her brothers had been researching the family tree. Unbeknownst to me, my great-grandma was actually called Elsy which was a weird coincidence.

Halvor’s name was Loki in the first draft then Thor came out and everybody named their dog that so that was changed. Halvor is from the Old Norse meaning “guardian” which suits him well. He’s always been a wolf hound in every draft.

The Chosen One

Although Elsa is “the chosen one”, I got tired of it being so prevalent in YA books where the character willingly took up the mantle with very little resistance. Elsa digs her heels in. She doesn’t want to leave home. She has constant doubts about her ability. She criticises Mazir, Cyrus, and Hakilian for not knowing more information and essentially leaving her in the dark.

Often, the Chosen One suddenly has an influx of power, they’re incredible with weapons etc. With Elsa, she’s really not good with weapons. She has no desire to get better without being forced to – and really doubts her ability to use it from a moral perspective.

Love Triangle

I’m never a huge fan of love triangles, so I tried to make it explicit in the Story of Old that although Elsa has both Barin and Felix in her life, Barin really is just a brother from another mother. (Barin will get more of a personal story in book 2). They are the only link to Old that each other has so they’re close due to that, but there is no desire for either of them. In an earlier draft, they did kiss in Lazarin during an argument, but it confirmed to both that there was no lust there. I decided to scrap it because I didn't like the scene.

Naivety

Often, heroines are gritty and worldly despite being teenagers. They’ve got supreme skills *ahem* world’s best assassin at 16. Elsa has never experienced life except from the rustic, fishing village of Old. She is naïve. She makes decisions that make you go arghhh no, Elsa, don’t be so stupid. But she is a teenager. She wants to forget about the Gods when she's sleeping beside Felix. She storms into danger when she's angry. But she will learn.

In book 2, she becomes much more independent and is forced to toughen up after the events of book 1. She goes through hell, but comes out the other side far stronger. By book 3, she’s almost unrecognisable. The same core is there, but Elsa is certain of herself, doesn’t rely on others to influence opinions, and makes her own decisions.

Beyond common sense, there’s nothing that makes Elsa “special”. She’s just thrust into the new world and forced to grow.

The Parentage Reveal

It’s a huge betrayal for Elsa to find out that her father had an affair – and that’s she is a product of that. It completely shifts her view of her father. Only Barin can understand her pain due to how strict Old’s rules are. Elsa worries that it will affect the Gods’ view of her, and worries how she’ll be perceived in Old. It will play an important role in book 2 with how Elsa views herself. Her anger towards Mac stays with her too because I found it so frustrating in books when massive betrayals are forgotten about after a few pages. papa archeron.

@nervousluminarypersona

#the story of old

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namkooktyddys · 1 year

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2. DISHONESTY

Three Days Ago

Author's P.O.V:

"I am so damn excited to see myself in that gown you know? The day is just 72 hours away and... And boom! My last name won't be Lee anymore! Like, do you even understand what I'm saying huh?...... Yeah yeah, come on now, I know Duri, being with your grandma is more important than my wedding now stop sulking. She's sick and you gotta care for her right? It's not like we can't catch up once I get hitched with him. I just wan-"

Walking into the dressing room you saw two people. You were stupefied by the sight. Your throat went dry the moment you saw the most unexpected scene in front of you.

Your fiancé cheating on you with your sister, Ha-Eun.

"....Y/N...? Are you on the line?....You still there?.... Y/N!?" Duri, on the other line was repeatedly calling for you but your ears went deaf seeing them desperately making out with each other. It was like the earth beneath your feet has slipped. Just to let them know that they have been caught, you make an apparent thud with your feet after making another obvious screech sound while you angrily pushed away the curtains of the dressing room.

"Why are you here?"

Without even sparing a glance, you turn around to leave the room. Of course it was hella disturbing - His face was buried into Ha-Eun's neck and her hands holding onto his hairs. Her chest was half bare and already had fresh hickeys and on the other hand, his belt and pants were undone.

Nothing could make you feel more worthless right now. Not your sister again making you feel inferior to her. She always had the best and now your marrier too.

You heard her leaving the room but didn't even care to have a look as you knew if she comes in front of you, your palms would already be kissing her cheeks.

"I told you I could pick up your gown myself and you don't have to come along" He came closer to you, fixing his plain black Ralph Lauren shirt. His eyes were yet fixed on his shirt, now focused on rolling his sleeves up, as if he was trying to hide his gaze from you. And why was his temperament so fucking calm as if he hasn't fucked up big time?

Oh! How badly your heart felt a pang on seeing him looking through his lashes, checking if you were 'mad' at what he did.

Surely, you were digging holes in his soul by staring at him with your teary eyes the whole time.

"That was accidental, Y/N."

The audacity to call the entire episode a mere 'accident'! Your blood was boiling as unlike earlier, he maintained a deep eye contact this time which showed no glint of remorse and the very moment you bitterly blurt out-

"Accidental I see... Did your pants accidentally slip off or you kissed her accidentally? Huh!!"

"Watch your tone you-" Your jaw was cupped painfully harshly while his left hand roughly pulled you towards him by your waist. He clenched his jaw in anger whereas his eyes were as devilish as a demon. How silly it felt to not have a control over your own body. You were beyond shocked to see this side of him. A man, all sweet, charming, cute and lovely 16 months ago, became as scary as a thunderstorm in a snap!

Being this close, you observed how the sides of his neck and jaw had light marks of lipstick and his body smelled exactly like that of Ha-Eun's.

You felt powerless, so damn feeble and fragile in his arms. No way you would reveal how weak and heartbroken you were because why? Why should you unveil it to him? You were strong and fierce and he shall know that. But your eyes were betraying you. A tear was already rolling down your cheeks and for a matter of second, his eyes held a glimpse of...guilt?

The said man leaned closer and placed his lips forcefully on the corner of yours.

How the fuck did you let him kiss you? You pressed your lips into a thin line to restrict him from going further. Pure disgust was crippling up through your whole body.

You loathe his touch now.

"BACK OFF KIM TAEHYUNG! DON'T YOU DARE TO TOUCH ME WITH THOSE BLOODY FILTHY HANDS!"

Gathering up your full strength, you hardly pushed him with the utmost force and wiped your lips with the back of your palm.

Taehyung let go of your figure walking back to a distance, and crossed his arms over his chest. You wanted to slap off that dirty, mocking chuckle that he just left. Fixing his hairs boldly, he took a few steps towards you.

"May I remind you, in two days, I'm gonna be your husband. Behave, Lee Y/N."

"I. AM. NOT. MARRYING. A. CHEATER."

You said looking into his eyes, pausing after each word to symbolise that you were adamant in your decision and your tone did sound firm but you were taken aback when Taehyung started chuckling insanely at what you just said.

His laughs immediately stopped and you furrowed your eyebrows. You were confused, a bit scared, furious, pissed off and emotionally drained and his actions were surprising you every second.

This is not the Taehyung you knew.

"Seriously, Y/N?"

Your name never sounded so nauseating from his mouth ever before.

He seemed really intimidating with that voice which went deeper than it was normally before.

Bending down to match your height, he again leaned closer but you backed off as an impulsive behaviour. He continued after licking his lips, "Our parents have invested millions of bucks in this wedding and you really think they're just gonna let you to blow it all?"

For a while, you gave a thought on what he said but again, your parents are not the one who is gonna spend the rest of their lives with him. You are the one who is going to.

Taehyung proceeded to grab a bridal veil from one of the mannequins placed around you. Clipping it onto the crown of your head neatly, he nonchalantly spoke, "You do not decide anything in your life, darling."

"I will get married for sure, but not with you."

All your sadness swept away. You sounded confident enough for the urge to get back, seeking retaliation was the only thought clouding your brain and mind right now. You were blinded by hate and also, your only motive was to either escape this marriage or prevent it from happening.

"Pft! Such a silly little girl. How will you find a groom in three days?"

"I don't have to explain you how, who, what, when, where. You are no one to me. No fucking one!"

For a matter of fact, your tone went a couple of octaves low and again Taehyung's face had that freaking mucky smirk which was irking each nerve in your body. You challenging him and the determination in you was giving him the desire to burst out in laughter.

"I am your fiancé and we are meant to get married really very soon honey. You know that well. Isn't it?"

Putting both his hands inside the pockets of his pants, he stood straight, taking a good look at your whole figure from head to toe and smiled cunningly.

A game of intense stare was going on between you both and Taehyung was the one to break it first. He turned his back at you to leave the room for the best and walked towards the exit.

His figure was seemingly decreasing in size as he neared the exit but his words were ringing loudly in your ears.

"See you at the altar, Ms. Le-... No!.. Soon-to-be Mrs. Kim."

___________________________________________________________

Author's Note:

Don't worry, I won't make him as bad as you are thinking. Our TaeTae is such a pure soul. One of the best 7 Bois to exist! 😩💕

#bts yoongi #bts ff #yn #bts fantasy au #bts fanfction #bts fandom #bts fanfic #bts fake scenarios #bts army #bts

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empires-au-ideas · 2 years

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Two episodes away from finishing tma so </3 I'm coping and emotionally prepared (<- lying)

Writing nature wives annoying coworkers to lovers is very amusing, I will say.

Edit: finished tma. What the fuck.

The Riffs Archives! Take this!

...

Peace and Quiet

Tw for death by car accident

...

[Click]

Pix:

I'm not sure what all the fuss is about, Katherine.

Katherine:

Well I don't get why you can't just wait till Shelby gets back to record the statement, it's HER job, after all.

Actually... where did you say Shelby went?

Pix:

The Archivist had a meeting to attend. Now-

Katherine:

Thank you so much for that... CRYSTAL CLEAR explanation. Truly.

Pix:

Just-

[Low rumbling rises, then fades]

hrmmm.

It's one statement, Katherine. I'd prefer it be recorded and filed before the Archivist got back.

You're an archival assistant now, Katherine. Do try and keep up.

And stop wasting the tape on the recorders. They're for statements only.

[Door opens and closes]

Katherine:

Well, I was doing JUST FINE in the research department. And I didn't even turn this stupid thing on in the first place!

Fine...

[Paper shuffling]

Katherine:

Statement of- oh Jeez.

Okay, that makes a little more sense.

Statement of Shelby Shubble, regarding a childhood trip to her family home. Statement given June 25th, 2015. Jeez, almost seven years ago-

Oh, right. Uhm-

Statement begins.

Katherine (statement):

I've lived with my grandmother my whole life. She doesn't really talk about it, but through my own digging and what probably counts as snooping, I found out both of them died in a car crash, just after I was born.

Now, my grandma did the best she could. She was like, the grandma archetype. Cookies, knitting, "my grand child can do no wrong", all that good stuff.

But she did have her limits. I had not been an easy child to raise, nor an easy student to teach. I was hyper, I needed to be told things multiple times, but I also HATED being told to do things.

But it all got too much for my grandma... I think in sixth grade. I was called into the principal's office I think for throwing my samples for a science lab across the room because I wasn't understanding it. I stand by it to this day, it was the teacher's fault for yelling at me instead of telling me how to actually do the lab.

The silence was suffocating in the car ride home. I always liked having noise in the background of whatever I was doing incase I didn't feel like doing it anymore, that way I could just say the noise was distracting me. It also made me feel less alone. Hearing people talking was grounding, or birds chirping, or even the buzzing electricity in my house just reminding me there were other people, other living things on earth.

This all went down right before spring break, so I wad dreading the lecture I was about to be given. I knew it'd just end with me grounded. She lectured me about controlling myself, having more respect for those STUPID teachers-

But surprisingly? I was not grounded. Well. Sort of?

See, for some reason my grandma had kept my parents' house all those years. So instead of spending spring break in the dreary old suburbs where I had no friends and nothing to do, I was too be sent away to a place where I can find possibly more answers about my parents (at the time I hadn't figured out what happened to them yet, so this would be a big break through).

And I loved my grandma, I loved her so so so much, but I nearly cried out in joy when I heard she wouldn't be staying in the house with me.

That's just what being twelve does to you I guess.

I tried to keep he relief- the excitement off my face. It was the Thursday before my week off and I was to arrive on Sunday, so I spent two days packing and the Saturday making a checklist of what I wanted to find out at the house.

Sunday consisted of a three hour drive, listening to the car radio and singing songs, stopping for ice cream at one point, my grandma always did a terrible job at making sure I knew I was in trouble.

And I tried to do my homework in the car, I really did! But the sound of traffic and all the sights on the way distracted me. Hardly my fault. That's probably what I told myself, which is funny, because that's what I tell myself now.

The house was in the middle of the woods by a lake, so grandma warned me that it got pretty misty. She said there was a bike in the shed I could use to go to the town nearby incase of emergencies, but only for emergencies. I was going to be picked up on Friday.

It was a... really strange thing to entrust a kid- a twelve year old with.

I hugged my grandma goodbye and dumped all my school stuff I was SUPPOSED to be doing in the corner of the room. I immediately took to exploring, because as much as I loathed school, I loved learning new things and was just over all way to curious of a child.

It was a tall house, two stories, the shed, and an attic. The spider on the handle to the attic door deterred me from there the first day though, so i was stuck exploring probably the more boring stuff. A few framed photos of my parents, though they weren't smiling in any of them, an office with a bunch of finance papers, nothing too special.

It wasn't until the sun set and I tried to go to bed that I realized how quiet it was.

I was in the woods on the outskirts of town. But I heard no crickets, birds, even the shaking of the leaves was muted. I wasn't even that far from the road, so it was freaky to not even hear CARS. As much as I used the excuse of noise distracting me, the silence was way more tantalizing.

I immediately went downstairs and tried to do my homework, I just needed a distraction from the lack of noise. A whole weeks worth of homework done in one night.

And I couldn't even tell. I start homework at eleven, after trying to sleep through the silence for two hours, and I check the clock again and it's seven. I looked outside in a panic, but also relieved I had got some work done, and that the silence didn't drive me insane.

But the windows were still dark, like the sun never rose at all. I thought maybe the world ended, and I didn't notice because I was too lazer focused on homework. That I should have investigated WHY there was no noise last night. No noise because every living thing on earth died and I didn't even notice.

I opened the blinds, only to see absolutely nothing. A pure, neutral grey covered the world, the window burned my hand it was so cold.

So that was the fog.

I could distract myself though the spider was gone from the attic, so I was able to go up there. I'm not even particularly scared of spiders, never have been, so I don't know why it stopped me in the first place.

The attic was dusty and dull, full of boxes and brown cases. The whole thing was overlayed in that same grey. The way it was clear the attic hasn't been touched by humans in years, the quiet, it made me feel like I was truly alone. Just me.

I rummaged around in there for a bit, it was taking my mind off things, distracting me from the pit of despair in my stomach I hadn't realized was growing. It had always been there, with me having no friends, my teachers not helping me in favor of praising their "star students", never quite understanding the secret codes hidden in facial expressions or tones, but with no one around me the pit was threatening to grow, then burst.

I found some... odd letters. One of them mentions you guys, so I've attached it to the statement. It was from my dad I think, he was NOT HAPPY with someone named Conal, I'll tell you that much.

But after opening a few cases I found it. The solution to my problems. A record player. All the records they had were old, even for my parents probably, but I felt myself loosen up, knowing I could hear another human voice and have it fill the silence.

And for the next day I was relaxed. I double checked- triple checked my homework, it was rather boring now that I was done with the only thing I was supposed to be doing all week.

I doodled on old papers in the office, I tried baking, I caught up on some desperately needed sleep, it was... rather nice. If my spring break was spent making cookies, drawing and writing stories, and finding out secrets, I was content.

I was running over the decorative books and judging how boring the contents actually were for the millionth time when night came, the fog hadn't cleared up all day so I couldn't really tell, but it was eight. The record player made a noise and there was no more music. No more voices.

In an instant I am overcome with dread. What kind of twelve year old wastes their spring break dying of boredom in some musty old house? I was drained from trying to come up with new ideas for stories all day. I made cookies and cake but hadn't eaten them. My homework was so checked over my teacher might even give me a "nice job" stamp.

They did, they handed my papers back to me the following Wednesday, with numbers almost in the nineties for the first time ever. I had to meet with about half of them after school as they interrogated me on why I didn't do that kind of work on all my assignments.

Laying there on the couch with covers that itched just enough to notice, but not worth my effort to remove them, I was unmoving. I was twelve... why did it feel like my whole life was passing me by?

Why was it so much easier for everyone else? And if it was so easy, so natural, why didn't they explain it to me? Why did they leave me so far behind, when did I GET behind?

I must have laid there for hours before the tears stung my eyes. There. A feeling. It got me out of the depth and reminded me where I was, how I was feeling, and what was causing it.

The quiet.

I shot up and ran through the fog, I hadn't even been outside since grandma dropped me off, so I hadn't explored the shed or any of the surrounding area, not that I could with the fog. But I didn't care. I felt my way to the bike. It was probably later than eleven at this point, I couldn't see with the fog, I barely knew my way back to town...

But I didn't care. I just craved to be by another person.

The whole way was grey, but it did feel like the fog was lifting up. Luckily there were no cars or people on the road, they probably would have hit me. It was dark, and the bike was probably made before reflective tape was even a thing.

The town was quiet, which made sense, as it was the dead of night. But there were no lights on. And still no sounds. No rustling leaves. No cars. Or any noises from the houses.

But it looked like everyone had vanished seconds prior. There was food at the outdoor tables. Car doors open in parking lots, a trunk open like someone was about to put groceries in. But no people. It felt like I had just barely miss them, if I had gone a little quicker I wouldn't have been left behind.

And I was tired. I couldn't sleep for obvious reasons. So I sat at a park bench, the playground swings still swaying a bit, like someone had only just gotten off of them. And I waited.

And waited.

And waited

There was no sun, but I had been counting. I had sat at the bench for probably six hours. No people whatsoever.

After the realization his me, that I've been sat in complete silence for six hours, the fog comes into my vision again. I don't waste time stumbling back to where I had locked my bike and started riding to the house, even though I couldn't see a thing.

I get my way to a side door eventually and get inside, where the fog just barely goes away. Just enough to read the sticky note on the coffee table.

"Be back soon!"

Another on the fridge.

"Went off to school!"

Another in the office, on the paper I had been doodling on.

"Remember to water the plants!"

None of which had been there before. The creepiest thing about it was the pen in the office, still warm from the hands of another person. It... it truly did trouble me how much I yearned for the pen. It troubles me now still.

I gathered up all the notes, even the one on the paper with my drawing,cand threw them in the shredder.

I left to the town at around eleven, and waited for six hours at the park bench. An hour there and back, so that means from six to two thirty I was crying. It was noise at least. But even my sobs were muffled, like I was underwater.

I'm snapped out of it by a car door closing. I run to the window, filled with blinding sunshine as the fog had completely disappeared without me noticing. It was my grandma's car.

Which... no. I hadn't been crying for that long. It was only supposed to be Tuesday as well, when she was supposed to pick me up on Friday. I don't know if I realized it at the time though, I think I was just so relieved she was getting me out.

Her smile was so warn as she asked how my stay was. I don't remember saying a thing, but she keeps smiling, so I don't think I ever told her what happened. I remember her remarking that I had grey hairs now, she joked it was from all the homework.

The car ride home was the best thing I have ever experienced. The tired going over every piece of gravel and shaking the whole car. The radio. Grandma's humming. Hearing the other cars go by.

I still can't do silence. I'm always moving now, always watching other people to make sure they don't vanish either. The grey in my hair won't leave, but I think that's fine.

I always thought it was sound that I didn't want. I don't want the QUIET. Hardly my fault. How am I supposed to stay calm if I can't sense when someone's by my side?

Statement ends.

Katherine:

Oh... Jeez.

So. Shelby supernaturally acquired detachment issues. Nice.

Uhm... not sure how to do follow up for this one? It sounded like Pix doesn't was Shelby to know I've read the statement...

Why did Pix want ME to read the statement?

But it's cool. It's cool, if there's one thing I trust Shelby to do, it's to take this stuffy old place way to seriously. I doubt she'd try and prank the institute like one of those false statement givers.

Oh, and I should probably read the letters attached as well.

Katherine (statement):

Dear Gemini Tay, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute,

I know you are well aware of what we have planned by now, it's probably hard for you folk to miss a whole area of land you can't see.

But my wife and I thought it'd be wise to advise your institute to stay out of our business. You know how much our family hates the spotlight.

Everyone knows what you did to the Buried, to your own brother to stop it. It's an easy way to make enemies.

From

Mr. Shubble

End of letter.

Katherine:

So... yeah. It sounds like Shelby's parents were supervillains, so that's fun. And he talked about Fwhip... Fwhip only moved away? I didn't think Gem did anything to him.

And whatever was going on at the house, I hope the grandma had no idea, for Shelby's sake.

Ugh. I swear, if this whole thing was a ploy to get me to cooperate with Shelby more-

Whatever.

[Click]

Pix:

Katherine.

Katherine:

Ugh. What now, Pix? I'm almost off the clock, and I felt sick after reading that statement.

I don't like feeling sick.

So I swear if you have ONE MORE THING for me to do-

Pix:

Well I'm sorry to make you do work during work hours, Katherine.

Shelby will be back tomorrow, and she... won't exactly be in the best of conditions. You can have the day off tomorrow-

Katherine:

Yes!

Pix:

As long as it is spent looking after Shelby.

Katherine:

What?!

Pix, come ON. You know how much me and Shelby don't get along. If she's not in "the best of conditions", SURLY she'll want someone she ACTUALLY LIKES around.

Pix:

Well for how she's feeling, what she's experienced, I do not trust Sausage to take care of her in his state. Nor do I trust Fwhip, in general.

And I know it's not the same, but you've been sick before. So I thought you'd be best equipped for the job.

Katherine:

How the HELL do you know-

Pix:

Because I look over the statements, Katherine. Is it so hard to believe I'm just a normal man working at his job?

Katherine:

Maybe, if that job wasn't HERE. And if you weren't so cryptic a the time.

...

So, do you know how to fix it?

Pix:

I've been sorting through artifact storage to see if we have anything, but I'm not done yet. Rest assured, I'm not yet so "cryptic" that I won't tell you if I've found a cure.

Katherine:

Great. Cuz nothing bad EVER comes out of artifact storage.

Pix:

I've helped many people, Katherine. I'm not trying to hurt you, not while you're already hurting.

Be at the institute on time tomorrow, Shelby will probably be late, but you'll have to clean up the room you've been staying in to keep her there.

Katherine:

And now she's taking my room...

Pix:

And what did I say about the tape recorders?!

Katherine:

Oh, screw off!

[Click]

#the riffs archives au #empires smp au #empires smp s2 #tma x esmp #esmp x tma #shubble #katherine elizabeth gaming

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ratherhavetheblues · 2 years

Text

CLAIRE DENIS’S “Both Sides of the Blade”: ‘You’re going on junk….”

by James Clark 2022

The films of Claire Denis have a penchant for disaster. Understanding her way must not be a quick take. Reaching her range involves much sophistication. In fact, we must involve the novel, Remembrance of Things Past, by novelist, Marcel Proust.

Here I want to open the enigma with a wealth of the shock of Surrealism.

The enigma, however, involves Surrealism being old hat. That doesn’t sound like Denis. (In the Ingmar Bergman film, Thirst [1949], there were many stunning visual presentations, by way of the cameraman, Gunner Fischer.) Why, though, this matter now, after all these years. Of course Denis must have very good reasons for us to ponder. We’ll begin with a primer, and see what can develop. Surrealist thinking was, and still does, have a hope. A small hope. We begin, however, the hope of the new. The new, but normal. Looking to the normal, in any way, could give one a horrible time.

However, we have marvelous resources in the form of novelist Marcel Proust (1871-1922). Denis engaging Proust? Yes. Watch and be thrilled! One of the protagonists of Denis’s film is a former lover (of the main actress, Sara). His name is Francois. He gets around. Another mover, is the busy and wise servant of the protagonist to Proust, namely Francoise.

Sara and Jean are not of the same era. Sara is about twenty years younger than him. But they adhere to helping new immigrants to France. Rather peculiar, Denis opens with a tropical fling. They alone tread the wonders, and Jean embraces her as if he were in a Hollywood flick. One with much business caressing her. “Twisting,” being in several moments in difficult films. After that, there is darkness in a subway, which turns to a station that does not allow places to step. The rooftops of Paris! Fog along the river. Fog everywhere! Mail under the door. Digging for what. (Proust was seldom a traveller. He seldom left his bedroom. His family riches allowed concentration.) Sara owned the flat. Her taste in features was incisive. Her taste in men was something else. (All these considerations require thought. Denis delivers.) Tickling, kissing, her long graceful hands and fingers. Long needs. In shadow, a sort of monster. Then on the phone. “Yes, Mom, it’s me. Yeah, it was great… Give her a kiss… Sara sends her love. We relaxed, it was nice, we took it easy…” (Taking it easy may not be the best choice.)

This pair are humanitarians. Humanitarians mean well. In this family it goes badly. Years ago, a woman in Paris, Nelly, took an abandoned baby to love and give him years of love. The baby, Marcus, a black, is now an adolescent, and if he ever loved the lady, he certainly doesn’t know. A saga of engineering. In fact, it was Jean who had placed the boy; but (“we took it easy”) was his method. (“I just want to know where Marcus is heading.) “Here’s where It’s going… “What do you want for lunch?” “I’m not hungry.” “You’re going on junk. You’re not serious.” “I’m in a rush, Grandma.” “Don’t forget your mask!” (Were she a little bit savvy, she’d know about drugs.) At a well known friendly grocery, she hopes to understand a problem. (On the way to this transaction, she tells herself, “I’m too old to be a real grandmother. I can’t, anymore.”) “I got my bank statement [two old hands]. And look!” “You’re overdrawn. There were several receipts with withdrawals.” “What could have happened? I don’t know…” “So yeah, it’s unusual…” (Cut to the worker’s blue glove… a Visa card.) “Did anyone borrow your card, Mrs. Charles? Do you have it on you?” “Yes, here.” “You see? Did you give the Pin to anyone?” “Of course…” (Cut to, “Mister I’m in a rush.” Then a jungle. And then, “Dad , are you there? Call me back…”)

More outrages. Back to the sweet helper. Jean was in prison, and couldn’t raise a son. It’s not your fault. He did something stupid and it backfired. But he survived. Now his son is screwing up, a little. (A little!) But it’s no big deal. (No big deal?) Nelly tells her, “I can’t manage Marcus anymore. He needs someone strong. (He needs a strong cell.) Someone to admire. You don’t admire your grandmother, and work around the house. He loves you, he mentions you every time.” (Nelly: “Does his mother ever call? But Marcus has to go to Martiqui, to see his mother. It’s important.”)

Jean presumes to straighten out Marcus. Marcus tells Jean that he wants to go into retail. The idea-man tells the boy about the hazards of retail. Along the way, he insists that Blacks and Arabs can never get employment, because they are unable to think independently. Thinking for oneself is a great skill. Jean has no doubt that choosing retail is a sentence for cleaning toilets. “Take time to think, to grow…” Marcus has his own ways. His kind of effectiveness infuriates the big talker. “So, in fact, nothing mattered.Coming here, serves no purpose.” (The boy’s sense of enterprise involves stealing goods. Many inventions look to a bright solution. Their directions are hopeless.) While Jean wastes his time, he does pose, for our perspective, a flow of possibilities. “Being smart is where you have two paths.” (In fact, there is a third to play. Dialectic.) The kid is happy with his allowance. The smart guy says, “If you need anything, ask?”

Another no-show. Jean and Sara, in bed. (Francois, her former lover, wanted to know if I was still with you.) Jean: “You never told him?” Sara: “Well, now he knows. Sara is not comfortable with this flow. Jean: “I don’t work with people who clam up. No way!” Sara: “Was he surprised we’re still together? He couldn’t have imagined we could be a couple!” (Many moves, many crashes.) Jean: “I don’t give a fuck what Francois thinks.” (She cries. ) Sara, in deep shadows: “My love, my love…” (He tries to penetrate.) Both sides of the blade. More crying. Then both of them on their backs. Like a morgue. They hold hands. He looks at her, in suspicion… The two sets of hands. Inert. Then Sara, amidst white sheets.

It’s morning. Francois has some appeal. She finds Francois amidst Jean’s new scheme. “You work with Francois, so I’ll see Francois.” The magic has disappeared. “I’ll ask him to dinner one day. So, you can see him. You’re beautiful… Crazy how pretty you are.” Desperate. The end game. A woman’s thigh; and two fingers, with two missing. Francois eating candy. “I’ll leave my number.” Francois: “You’re as pretty as ever.” Sara in the bathroom mirror. She murmurs to herself. A long way from the zenith.

The flat is her’s; and she wants him to get lost. Sara tells Jean, “You’re unbearable… I don’t want to see you anymore. Leave. please.” He babbles about some documents… “I never sent a text… I’m not afraid…” Glad to hear it. Now get out. What texts… I saw them! It’s not true. There’s no use lying, really. Get out. What texts? What did they say? I want to see what they said. They said, “I love you, I love you. I think about you… I love your smile. (She bushes him.) I love your scent.” (He screams as he marches around.)” No one can tear us apart.” (She says nothing.)” It’s all on me? I don’t give a fuck about him (Francois). Move or I’ll you.” He screams…” I can’t stand it anymore! What did I do to deserve this? Why is this happening to me? I can’t stand it! Want to drive me crazy? You want to be able to! You know why? Because it’s over! Let me go! Stop it!” She was crying. “You think I was ever free in my life? I don’t give a fuck… Listen to me! Do I have to go to prison for this? I was never free, never in my whole life! I toe the line. Obey, obey. obey… Sara racing around the flat… I don’t give a fuck. Figure it out… I can’t bear this anymore! I’m going to Francois’ place. Let me explain.” There’s nothing to explain. You don’t understand. Go on, call him! …Don’t give a fuck, about him.” He doesn’t give a fuck, either. (The missing need.) More screaming from the civilization experts…” I’ll destroy everything. I’ll wreck it all. There’s a gun, it’s loaded too. Think you’re going back to prison to make you happy?” Sara: “Call me! Call me back!” This Francois is not virtuous. In the second part of our essay, treating the miraculous, Marcel Proust, there is a Francois to love.

(Sara in the bathtub and her phone.) Jean: “The other day, when you said you loved Francois, it hurt. Physically. Now it’s over. I’ll let you live. I want you to know that I’m capable of living without the person I love.” (Forms of need.)

He leaves with a lot of things. She leaves with nothing. It takes a while to understand for Sara what nothing has become. Everything erased from her property. Starting again. Think of it! Think of the height. (Of course, she could have engaged recent colleagues. But the workload, here, would be very arduous.) Think of the heart of Marcel Proust.

“We are not provided with wisdom, we must discover it for ourselves, after a journey through the wilderness which no one else can take for us, an effort which no one can spare for us, for our wisdom is the point of view from which we come, which we come at last to regard the world. The lives that you admire, attitudes that seem noble to you are not the result of training at home, by a father, or by masters at school, they have sprung from beginnings of a very different order, by reaction from the influence of everything evil or commonplace that prevailed around them. They represent a struggle and a victory. I can see the picture of what we once were, in early youth, may not be recognizable and cannot, certainly, be pleasing to contemplate in later life. But we must not deny the truth of it, for it is evidence that we have really lived, that is accordance with the laws of life and of the mind that we have, from the common elements of life and of mind that we have, from the common elements of the studios, of artistic groups—assuming common that one is a painter—extracted something that goes beyond them.” This being a sidebar (from the saga of the writer’s novel for presenting the wit of France). We’ll touch upon several moments, in hopes of finding the right fit. There is, no doubt, a right fit. The wisdom of France is a fine place to work. Our first chapter does not represent the wisdom of France.

Because the dream world is not the waking world, it does not follow that the waking world is less genuine, far from it. In the world of sleep, our perceptions are so overcharged , each of them increased by a counterpart which doubles its bulk and blinds its bulk and blinds it to no purpose, that we are not able even to distinguish what is happening in the bewilderment of awakening; as it was Francoise that had come to me, or I that, tired of waiting, went to her? Silence at that moment was the only way not to reveal anything, as at the moment when we are brought before a magistrate cognizant of all charges against us, when we have not been informed ourselves.

Meanwhile there was one person who never took her’s [eyes] from what could be made out of my grandmother’s altered features, at which her daughter dared not look, a person who fastened on them a gaze wondering, indiscreet and of evil omen: this was Francoise. Not that she was not sincerely attached to my grandmother (indeed she had been disappointed and almost scandalized by the coldness shewn by Mamma, whom she would have licked to see fling herself weeping into her mother’s arms, but she had a certain a tendency always to look at the worse side of things, she had retained from her childhood two peculiarities which would seem to be the mutually exclusive, but combined, strengthened one another: the want of restraint coming among people of humble origin who make no attempt to conceal the impression, in other words, the painful alarm, aroused in them by the sight of a physical change which it would be in better taste to appeal to notice, and the unfeeling coarseness of the peasant who begins by tearing the wings of a dragon-fly until she is allowed to conceal the interest that she feels in the sight of suffering flesh…

Francoise was of infinite value to us owing to her faculty of doing without sleep, of performing the most arduous tasks. And if , when she had gone to bed after several nights spent in the sick-room, we were obliged to call her a quarter of an hour after she had fallen asleep, she was so happy to be able to do the most tiring duties as if they had been the simplest things in the world that, so far from looking cross, her face would light up with a satisfaction tinged with modesty.

Often the sun would disappear behind a cloud, which impinged on its roundness, but whose edge the sun gilded in return. The brightness, though not the light of day, would then be shut off from a landscape in which all life appeared to be suspended, while the little village of Roussainville carved in relief upon the sky the white mass of gables, with a startling precision of detail. A gust of wind blew from its perch, a rook, which floated away and settled in the distance, while beneath a paling sky the woods on the horizon assumed a deeper tone of blue, as though they were painted in one of those cameos which you still find decorating the walls of old houses.

But on other days the rain would begin to fall, of which we had had due warning from the little barometer-figure which the spectacle-making hung out in his doorway. Its drops, like migrating birds which fly off in a body at a given moment, would come down out of the sky in a close marching order. They would never drift apart, would never make movement at random in their rapid course, but each one, keeping in its place, would draw after it the drop which was following, and the sky would be as greatly darkened as by the swallows flying south. We could take refuge among the trees. And when it seemed that their flight was accomplished, a few last drops. feebler and slower than the rest, would still come done. But we would emerge from our shelter, for the rain was playing a game, now, among the branches, and even it was almost dry underfoot, a stray drop or two. lingering in the hollow of a leaf, would run down and hang glistening from the point of it until suddenly it splashed plump upon our upturned faces from the whole height of the tree.

The new sanitarium to which I retired at that time did not cure me any more than had the first and a long time elapsed before I left it. During the railway journey back to Paris, I fell to thinking of my lack of literary talent which I had early suspected along the Guermantes way, and had recognized with still more sadness on my daily walks with Gilberte at Tansonville before going home to dinner very late in the night, and which, the evening before leaving that country estate, while reading some pages from the journal of the Goncourt brothers, I had very largely attributed to the vanity and falseness of literature. This idea, less painful perhaps but still more dispiriting if I explained it, not by a deficiency peculiar to me personally, but as due to the non-existence of the ideal in which I had formerly believed, had not recurred to me for a long time past, but now it struck me anew and with more crushing force than before. I recall that it was while the train had halted out in the open country. The declining sun shone halfway down the trunks of the trees that lined the railway track. “Trees,” thought to myself, “you have nothing more to say to me; my deadened heart no longer hears you. Behold me in the midst of nature’s beauty and yet it is with indifference and ennui that my eyes take note of the line that separates the sun-bathed foliage from the shadowed trunk. If there was once a time when I was able to believe myself as a poet, I know that I am not. In the new chapter of my life which is opening before me, perhaps amenable to believing myself a poet to appear…And yet, even as I offered myself… I knew that I was merely of no value.

Another twist: theoreticians. “No more literature! Give us life!” “The idea of a popular art, like that of patriotic art, seems to me ridiculous, even if it had not been dangerous.” “From the changes which had occurred in society I could readily extract some important truths, suitable to give cohesiveness to part of my book, because they were in no way peculiar to our time, as I might at first have been tempted to believe.”

… “And just as certain creatures are the last surviving testimony to a form of life which nature has discarded, I asked myself if music were not the unique example of what might have been—if there had not come the invention of language, the formation of words, the analysis of ideas—the means of communication between one spirit and another. It is like a possibility which has ended in nothing; humanity has developed along other lines, those of spoken and written language. But this return to the unanalyzed was so inebriating, that on emerging from that paradie, contact with people who were more or less intelligent seemed to me of an extraordinary significance. People—I had been able during the music to remember them, to blend them with it; or rather I blended with the music little more than the memory of one person only, which was Albertine [the protagonist’s poisonous lover]. And the phrase that ended the andante seemed to me so sublime that I said to myself that it was a pity that Albertine did not know it, and, had she known it, would not have understood what what an honour it was to be blended with anything so great as this phrase which brought us together, and the pathetic voice of which she seemed to have borrowed. But, once the music was interrupted, the people who were present seemed utterly lifeless… Meanwhile, the septet had begun again and was moving towards its close; again and again one phrase or another from the sonata recurred, but always changed, its rhythm and harmony different, the same and yet something else, as things recur in life; and they were phrases of the sort which without our being able to understand what affinity assigns to them as their sole and necessity home the past life of certain composer, are to be found only in his work, and appear constantly in it, where are fairies. the dryads, the household gods; I had at the start distinguished in the septet two or three which reminded me of the sonata. Presently—bathed in the violet mist which rose particular in Vinteuil’s later workers, so much so that even when he introduced a dance measure, it remained captive in the heart of an opal—I caught the sound of another phrase from the sonata, still hovering so remote that I barely recognized it; hesitating, as it approached, vanished as though in alarm, then returned, hands joined hands with others, come, as Iearned later on, from other works, summoned yet others which became in their turn attractive and persuasive, as soon as they were tamed. and took their places in the ring, a ring divine but permanently invisible to the bulk of the audience, who, having before their eyes only a thick veil through which they saw nothing, punctuated arbitrarily with admiring exclamations a continuous boredom which was becoming deadly.” (Proust, spoiling the joy here, due to his weakness.)

Although it seems to be too late to matter, our constitution might surprise. Yes, planet Earth is about to empty. But for those who persevere, much can be thrilling! There is a large reach of affection. Passion often reaches mystery, for a while, leaving us thinking that there should be a way to find one’s balance. A matter of working harder. A matter of embracing the elements. A matter of appreciation to live one’s life and then one’s death.

#claire denis #marcel proust

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