#{ loud fucking sobbing in the foreground }

[altosk]

　　　Raven was mad, but Alexei was furious—

'It matters!'

His barked reply makes Raven flinch, the way Alexei steps forward makes him instantly and instinctively step back. Many lines were crossed between the both of them and Alexei sure had a lot more to say about it.

❝ i - i — ❞

He cringes from Alexei's harsh words, taking another step back when the man takes a second one forward, it hardly helps as Alexei crowds his space anyway. Raven couldn't find the words even if he wanted to, Alexei's words tore through him worse than any weapon could. He wanted nothing more than to look as small as possible like maybe he could just blip out of existence in that exact moment.

Shame burns hot in his stomach and he can't look Alexei in the face any longer, gaze falling down cast in his feeble attempt of shrinking. Running away almost felt like a solid idea but his legs wouldn't move from where he was rooted.

When he'd brought up Brave Vesperia he wanted to argue. Him? Their Puppet? No... They - they were different —

Alexei doesn't stop there. His voice is raised so loud, Raven has to resist the urge to cover his ears and childishly cut everything else out. He doesn't want to hear as Alexei lays out everything he's tried to just ignore out in front of him. It was always easier to play along and fill the holes with others expectations, even with them, to play the part of the 'old man', it was so easy. Raven felt like he'd gone so long playing peoples envisioned roles that he'd convinced himself nobody would really notice that he just never stopped.

He was so, sooo wrong and the curtains had long closed on his performance.

All of Alexei's words hurt so deeply that it shakes Raven to his core, makes his chest ache like theres a real heart nestled in there. An ache not unlike that of a really chilly day, but this time there was hardly a breeze in the air, just the cold hard truth of Alexei's words. Yet nothing, nothing, could have prepared him for those last four words Alexei spat out.

'A lost, spineless coward.'

The tears that fell down his cheeks came on faster than he could register at first. A choked up inhale was his indication as he finally found his legs enough to take a step or two in attempts to create distance between himself and Alexei. His sleeves come up far too late too hide his face and he bites hard on his lower lip to stiffle anymore noise that dare escape.

Raven didn't dare try to speak, knowing likely the only sound he'd make is a pitiful sob that felt like it had a choke hold on him. He couldn't get the tears to stop and his legs wouldn't move again so he resorted to falling down into a squat. Hiding himself so small that maybe Alexei would just ignore the fact he couldn't stop crying into his sleeves.

He felt so pathetic. He was pathetic.

❝ ... yea — .. i am.. ❞

Alexei froze, having grasped briefly at his chest after bumping into the other. There was a dull pain ringing out from under his hand, but it wasn’t enough to be concerned about. What concerned him more was how Raven froze dead in his tracks. What could it be this time?

“Rave—“ Crimson eyes flew open wide.

By the time he registered the fist coming at him, it had already made contact with his face, having caught him enough off guard that he instantly staggered back, the motion far too quick and sudden in his current state. He bit down on his bottom lip, hand shooting right back to his chest with more urgency than before. He swore the wound must have reopened just then… and yet even still, all he found himself able to focus on was the man before him and the dark thoughts he let spill out.

“It matters!” Alexei’s jaw clenched, narrowed eyes piercing into the other’s as he clenched the fist at his side. “…It’s been ten years and you still don’t get it!”

He took a measured step forward, encroaching on Raven’s space with little hesitation. It didn’t matter to Alexei if he was hit again. It hardly mattered to him whether he bled out and died here. All that mattered now was making Raven see reason, no matter the cost, even if he had to be the villain all over again.

“If you were supposed to be dead, then you’d have died with the rest of your brigade all those years ago— you’d have died in the rubble at Baction! I could have taken your life at any time with the click of a button! Yuri and his comrades could have killed you just as well! Many times now, you could have died, and yet here you stand with the rest of us. Don’t you think that means something?!” Spouting these words now felt so reminiscent of the past. …Only in those days, he felt he had a right to preach these things. Now, he was far beyond redemption… and if it would smack sense into Raven, he’d go as far as he had to.

“Have you really found no sense of identity in all these years?! Even though you have a brigade of knights who adore you, a guild that respects you, and friends who wouldn’t let you die even when you wanted to?!” Another step forward was taken, fingers clenching into the fabric at his chest as bright crimson soaked through the material.

“If you’ve no will of your own, then for what reason did you ignore my orders?! For what reason did you choose those children over me?! Do you simply intend to become their puppet next?!” Alexei knew he was going too far— knew that he was being cruel— but knew that it had to be done. Raven had to realize the truth.

“I do know you. I know you better than anyone else, because I know the real you; the “you” you’re so afraid to let those friends of yours see. I’ve seen beyond that mask, time and time again. I know that the real reason you’re clinging to them now is because you’re hoping they’ll become your new identity! What would Raven, or Schwann, or Damuron be without someone to cling to? It’s so pathetic, anyone would take advantage of you for it.” His tone was cold, gaze unwavering from Raven despite the blood draining quickly from his wound, with a voice so loud it sent shocks through his own aching chest.

“If it makes you feel better, then hit me as much as you want! Kill me, if you feel it necessary. It doesn’t change what you are; what you’ve always been:” His nose crinkled up in a grand mixture of frustration and anxiety, practically spitting the next words in Raven’s face.

“A lost, spineless coward.”

[druid-for-hire]

Another comic made for our school's annual comic anthology Static Fish, usually available for purchase at MoCCAFest NYC, for the Spring 2024 edition. (This was a bit of a toughie, because I made it in two weeks while traveling through Europe.) It's about fitting in, past selves and separate selves, and loving and being loved by those who you don't fit in with.

ID under the cut.

[Image ID: A seven-page digitally illustrated comic, titled "Beneath You Now Is Every Other You," by the artist "druid-for-hire." It begins with a snake, in a large black void, staring up at two giant golden eyes that show a window to an outside world. The snake notices the sound of sniffling and sobbing coming from far behind. Worried, it turns away from the eyes, slithering backwards into the darkness as the eyes close, moving past a line of shed skins that slowly become smaller and smaller. The snake finds a very small shed skin, who is alive, and sobbing.

"Hey, bud, you okay?" The snake asks. The shed wails even louder. "Okay, okay, I hear you," says the snake. "What's wrong?"

"You know what's wrong!" the shed shouts back. The snake says, "It would help me a lot if you could think it in words."

The shed throws itself on the floor in a tantrum, then is quiet. Then it says, "They called us too intense. When we were playing on the Wii."

The next page shows the shed talking alongside a drawing of a figure smiling in the foreground, in golden lighting, which fades into darkness over three faceless figures. They are all vague and impressionistic. The shed continues: "I mean, come on, it's a competitive game, right? And it was just our brother, our sister, and her fiance. I mean, I guess… you and I were just trying to have fun. We were having fun. We don't get to talk to them a lot." The snake says, "... We were kind of loud. And..."

The shed interrupts. "I know, I know I know I knowww, we're stupid and have no volume control and we don't get anything anybody's saying, and life is a nightmare of social cues and humiliating faux pas and we're not fucking unique, but… … This wasn't a problem with our friends. Or anybody at college. They were all like us. We spoke the same language, we had the same understanding. We didn't have to try to fit in, there wasn't a box, we were suave and confident and making friends was easy. Now we're back home, and…"

"And it's not the same," the snake says.

There is an illustration of the happy figure from before, half in golden light with cheerful people at their arm. The other half is in darkness. She is smiling in the light, but has no face in the dark. The shed continues speaking. "They don't get it. We're back in normal-people-land and we have to fit in. We forgot about the box. We came back and smashed the box because we forgot about it. And now everyone's mad because we broke their box."

"... I don't want to be weird," says the shed. "Yes you do," says the snake. "You do," says the shed. "No, so do you," says the snake. The shed says, "FINE. I want to be weird. But I want to be cool weird. And I think we are cool weird! But weird still isn't normal. And it's going to make our normal people siblings uncomfortable no matter what we do."

The shed puts its head down, despondent. There is a feeling of vastness and silence; the emptiness around them feels looming. "It just feels bad," it says. "Hiding from them."

The snake is silent for a moment. Then it moves forward, and coils around the shed. "We'll get the hang of it one of these days. You know they're willing to say this stuff because they love you, and they want you to know how to behave around people who don't understand and who don't love you. Better with them than with an employer, huh?"

"I guess," says the shed. The snake nudges it and says, "Hey." After a pause, the snake presses its nose to the shed's. "I love you."

The shed closes its eyes. Over an illustration of the figure in golden light, whose eyes are closed, it says, "I love you too." end id.]

[obsidiancreates]

Something Old, Something New

(Des meets my old evil version of me from when I was 13. I wrote it like how I pictured the inside of my brain looking back then too. So, weird. Weird and edgy.)

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Des looked around the space. “Now where were those Sides again...” she muttered.

Sid’s mind was difficult to navigate. Her constantly shifting thoughts and interests made the terrain just as unreliable, the ground changing shape and color with every step. The sounds of a thousand ideas choked the air, buzzing and screeching, somehow both too quite to hear and too loud to hear anything else. A song played behind the thoughts chatter, looping over and over, consistent background noise to the constant foreground cacophony.

Des moved out of the way of a a person, made of letters and some kind of gray mist, as they sobbed and ran past her. It left behind the feeling of abandonment, and on the ground where it had stepped it left behind words. “Rude Awakening,” Des read. Ah. An unfinished story.

She considered trying to recruit the story. She’d have to see if they had any kind of power or influence after they’d been left behind. If not, she’d let them die with Sid.

She continued on her quest. If she could find that ‘Jessa’, the irrationality Side, she could get her to overpower Sid...

Des walked right into a wall.

“Shit!” She reached up to hold her head, and felt something warm and wet. She brought her hand down, and found her fingers to be coated in blood and lava. She growled and wiped it off on the ground, which shifted from bright teal to deep red at her touch.

She looked up at the building she had slammed into. It was made of deep purple bricks. It didn’t seem to have a start or an end, stretching as wide and tall as the eye could see.

Des looked behind her. Had she already gotten to the subconscious? She couldn’t have...

There was one door. One way forward.

She rubbed her thumb on the end of her sword’s handle, and then went in.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  

As soon ash she stepped through the door the world changed.

The music from before became overpowering, and the clamoring of the thoughts went completely silent. She was standing on solid ground, but there was no ground to be seen. She stood in a void, with only one thing in it.

A girl. A version of Sid, in fact. Not one that Des had seen before.

The girl’s hair was short and dark purple, or maybe long and bright purple, or maybe Sid’s normal hair...

Her clothes were a pair of ripped skinny jeans and a band shirt and a black hoodie and sneakers, and they were a black skirt with leggings and a long sleeved dark red shirt and knee-high boots, and they were loose jeans and a loose solid pink shirt, and-

Des rubbed her eyes. The girl’s appearance never stayed the same. All that remained unchanging was the fact that she looked like Sid. A... a younger Sid. From before Des had even existed.

The girl hovered in the air, grinning, singing along with the music.

“Now I know,” she did a spin, “there’s no-one I can trust!” She grabbed the shirt of a faceless figure and pulled them close “I used to think there was!” She shoved the figure away, and they vanished. “Tell me that I’m cut-throat!” She dragged a knife across her neck, grinning, her eyes wide and shifting between purple and black as though they just couldn’t make a decision, and as she dragged the knife across her throat blood poured out of it. “I think you got your eyes closed!” A giant pair of eyes materialized behind her, looking terrified and very similar to Sid’s own, and they squeezed shut.

Des stepped closer. How had she never even heard of this girl? She knew all of Sid’s characters...

“Feel the fear!” The girl stared down at a group of terrified people, all of them as hazy as extras in dreams, but terror clear on their blurry faces. “And swallow back the tears!” The giant eyes returned, crying, before the irises were swallowed with purple and the tears stopped flowing. “Let weakness disappear!” The girl threw her arms out and threw her head back, purple energy pulsing around her. “There’s nobody but me her!” she sang to a mirror, a mirror that showed a younger Sid pounding on the glass, screaming. The girl just grinned back. She grabbed the sides of the mirror and got close to the glass, her nose touching the image of Sid’s. “The killer in the mirror!”

The girl continued her little show, and Des tried to guess who she was.

She wasn’t a Side. She wasn’t some kind of new OC either, her age made that clear. But the song she was dancing to was new... so she must be an old character, and something dragged her back into the forefront of Sid’s imagination.

Realization dawned on Des.

Another evil ego. From long before Des was even a thought.

“Knock ‘em. In the. Teeth. Now,” the girl sang, slowly advancing on another dream-like group, “Never! Let your! Guard! Down!” She “Get some. Of what. They’ve. Got! Have it. And the. Have. Nots!” With every word she got closer. Des got closer as well, curious, and a little pissed off.

Another evil ego? Why did she come back? She was clearly stuck as the age at which Sid made her, so she hadn’t grown with her creator. She was a relic! A... worse version of what Des could have been!

Des wasn’t jealous. Of course not. She was the best, the best of all Sid’s silly little characters. She didn’t get jealous. At all. Ever. It was inconceivable.

The girl grinned even wider somehow. “Knock, knock, knock ‘em all the fuck out!” she screamed, lurching forward, a burst of power exploding through the void. Des shouted as it knocked her to the ground, pushing and dragging her across the floor, knocking the breath from her lungs.

She stayed still, wheezing, pain gripping her whole body. She could faintly hear the girl still singing, but her ears were ringing too much for it to be more than muffled incomprehensible noise.

And then she was pulled to her feet and staring the girl in the face.

The girl was considerably shorter, both because of her age and the extra height Des’s boots gave her. She made up for it by floating high enough to be at eye-level with Des. “Hiya!” she exclaimed.The blood and cut on here neck were gone without a trace. Her teeth looked just a bit too sharp to be human. Her eyes bore into Des’s, and if Des herself wasn’t an evil ego it might have set shivers through her spine.

The girl tilted her head. “Did that hurt ya?” She laughed. “I hope so!”

Des scowled. “Who are you?”

“I’m !)@%*!” she said, using Sid’s real name. Des flinched. The girl didn’t notice. “But cooler! And with no worries or limitations or restraints!” She shrugged, still grinning. “And a little insane!”

“I’m Sid’s evil ego,” Des growled. She drew her sword.

The girl tilted her head again. “Who’s Sid?” Her voice never stopped being cheery.

“I don’t use her real name, idiot.” Des straightened her posture and posed regally. “I am LavaDestroys.”

The girl chuckled. “I don’t have a name! Never did!” Her eyes never closed. They never even narrowed. They just stared, wide as they could be, never leaving Des’s own. “You look different!” The corners of her mouth drooped. It was barely perceptible, the grin was still plastered to her face, but it was clear something had upset her. “Older.”

Des nodded. “I am.”

“How much older?”

Des looked the girl up and down. “A little over two years, I think.”

The girl laughed, bitterness clear in the sound, her left eye twitching. “Two years? I’ve been gone for two years? And... you replaced me?”

Des put her sword away. The girl’s smile dropped completely, her teeth clenching and her breaths coming in short and shaky. Her whole face twitched with rage, and the purple of her eyes became much more red. She screamed, the void around them filling with clashing lights of various shades of purple. She gripped her hair, staring at the ground. Des backed away, but the rage powered light-show left her alone. She watched the girl, braced herself, and took a step forward.

She took slow, careful steps, until she was right next to the girl. She put her hand on her back. “You poor little thing,” she said, pity filling her voice. “Ignored, abandoned, forgotten...”

The girl’s head snapped up and she grabbed Des’s jacket, yanking her closer. “WHAT MAKES YOU BETTER THAN ME?! I WAS FUN! SHE HAD FUN IMAGINING FIGHTING ME!” Her voice cracked and rasped as she screamed at the top of her lungs.

“It’s hardly my fault I was created!” Des didn’t fight back. This girl... she was made before Sid realized her love of manipulative villains. before Sid knew how to properly write manipulation... how it worked.. which left her open to a few ‘suggestions’ from Des. “I never even knew you existed! She ruined you, not me!”

The girl bared her teeth. “YOU STILL REPLACED ME!” She was practically howling the words.

“Please, if you must be angry with anyone, be angry with Sid!”

The girl dropped Des, tears filling her eyes. “She even changed her name in the time I’ve been... been dead! I’ve been DEAD to her!” She shook with rage, with the strain of trying to draw breath through her feelings taking up her chest. “Why shouldn’t I just kill you?! HUH?!” She grinned again, still crying. “Then she’ll HAVE to pay attention to me again!”

“Or,” Des said, using her most soothing voice, “We could fight her together.”

“What?” the girl growled venomously.

“I hate her as well, of course.”

“I don’t hate her! I- I want to help!”

Des blinked, taken aback. “What?”

“She’s so stressed all the time! Having to be sweet and happy and nice all the time!”

Ah. Of course, made when Sid was thirteen... the start of her emo/edgy phase.

“She needs to loosen up!” The girl spread her arms out. “And I can help her do that! She’ll fight against it, but she’ll like it eventually!”

Dammit. Des thought for a moment. “Fine... I think we could still help each other.”

“Oh yeah? How? You seem way too uptight for my taste.” The girl cackled. “I want to go wild! Be unrestrained! You look like you never stop holding things back!”

Des grit her teeth and took a deep breath. “Sid has changed since you’ve been gone,” she said. “Didn’t you notice the new music? The fact that you can curse now? I’m so different from you because she re-thought how she’d like an evil version of her to be. Because her preferences have changed. Her personality has changed. She’s a different person.”

The girl shook her head. “Not that different. I’m here again! I can feel it! She still wants to be able to loosen up! She still can’t be herself the way she wants to!”

“But she expresses herself more now,” Des argued. “Trust me. She’s not the girl she was when she made you.” ‘She’s just different enough for you to need me.’ Des tried not to smirk as she thought that.

The girl looked thoughtful. “You want to kill her. I need her.”

“Well, perhaps I can kill her in more ways than one.” Des smiled. “She’ll hardly be the Sid I’m bothered by if you get ahold of her.”

The girl stared into Des’s eyes. Des stared back, unblinking, unyielding.

The girl nodded slowly. For a moment she looked like a normal kid, looking for some help, some guidance.

“I... guess I could see that.”

Now it was Des who grinned too wide. “Wonderful. Come with me.” She held her hand out. “We have a lot to plan.”

[consequentson]

I have a buttfuck ton of new ideas for promos and now all I need are screencaps :|||||||||||\\\

[magistralucis]

🔀 :0c

🔀 Maroon 5 - Payphone

I’m at a payphone trying to call homeAll of my change I spent on youWhere have the times gone, baby, it’s all wrongWhere are the plans we made for two

Here are some voicemails long since deleted by Franck Rivoire.

Voicemail 01: Recorded Jun 26, 6:23pm

Gesaffelstein: Monsieur Rivoire.

G.: [Short pause.] Good afternoon, Monsieur. The Chairman conveys his regrets that you couldn’t be here today, and he hopes that you’ll be well soon. [Pause. Shuffling of papers.] Your article is still due on Friday, of course. Specifically the one from when you visited Nantes. Alone.

G.: [Small intake of breath. Five seconds.]

G.: … That will be all, save for one more message from the chairman. There will be a party at some point in the next month or two, to celebrate his first full year at the office. The date is not yet set, but the announcement came an hour ago; it was only right to let you know. [Pause.] You will find out more as the days pass, I imagine. As far as I know, it will be held at a function room in one of the hotels nearby. Plus ones are permitted, as are friends. We are encouraged to bring some as he is quite intent on making an impression.

G.: But then, of course. I forgot.

G.: [Quiet snicker, followed by a markedly lowered tone of voice:]

G.: You don’t have any friends now, do you, Franckie?

[END VOICEMAIL]

Yeah, I know it’s hard to rememberThe people we used to beIt’s even harder to pictureThat you’re not here next to me

Voicemail 02: Recorded Jul 18, 10:16pm

Gesaffelstein: [Inaudible murmur for the first twenty seconds. Sound of water running in the background, perhaps a bathtub. Radio and TV both on, one of which is the evening news, full volume; all of those sounds are so loud as to drown out the foreground noise, G.’s own voice included. G.’s voice is increasingly stifled with emotion as the recording goes on.]

G.: - not a writer, not a journalist, and definitely not an artist. I know you’re watching the story too, even if you aren’t taking my calls; you hear that, Franckie? You want me to turn the volume up from this end? [Does not.] Because I know you’d hate to miss it. Imagine going out of business because the mayor of goddamned Nantes sued you for slander. [Laughter.] 

G.: Oh, it’ll pass. I mean, there’s fuck all to do in Nantes; you were just the convenient target, just be sure to thank the chairman for bailing you out later. Yeah? They only didn’t name you out of some theoretical respect for your dignity, but really, you aren’t shit, Franck Rivoire. Not that you needed to hear it from me for the hundredth time, but what the hell. [The tap is abruptly shut off.] Have a present. Why not! It’s our one month anniversary - of you breaking us up! I’m so glad we made it, Franckie, let’s be miserable together forever! [Bitter laughter. Faint splash of water.] 

G.: Jesus Christ.

G.: [Continues to laugh, until he begins to sob instead in earnest. A full minute passes before either the TV or the radio is shut off, though the other remains on in the background.]

G.: Franckie. Franckie... why?

[END VOICEMAIL]

You say it’s too late to make it,But is it too late to try?And in our time that you wastedAll of our bridges burned down

Voicemail 03: Recorded Aug 12, 3:30am

Gesaffelstein: [Slurring very heavily throughout the recording; clearly intoxicated. Pronunciation unclear in some parts.] Hello? Hello? It’s me. Mike. First of all, it was lovely seeing you last night, chickpea, it’s been a-a-ges; funny how like... fucking hell, you were the one person I ought to’ve expected... heh. Never doubted you for a second [Inaudible], you always take me by surprise.

G.: Thank you for the coupons. I didn’t want to say it out loud in front of everybody, but you were spot on: I don’t think I’ve walked past a spa since I began working here. I’m overdue for a good old sugar scrub at the least; you’re right, I do need a day out to myself, don’t I. [Pause, seven seconds. The sound of a cork popping.] Too much’s been going on. Hell. Thanks for putting a word in for me at Lancôme, too. [Inaudible] - of the modelling business for so long it’s surprising anyone remembers me, let alone wants me back occasionally. [Pouring sounds. Pause. Three seconds.]

G.: That said, darling.

G.: [A glass clinks heavily upon a wooden surface.]

G.: Are you out of your mind?!

G.: [G.’s voice is a little clearer from this point on. Coaxing.] My dearest. Sweetheart. Honeybun. I thought we were over this years ago. Wild horses couldn’t drag me kicking and screaming back to the modelling industry; thanks for getting my name out there, but as for working for them? No thanks. You know how bad it was there. You were the one who helped me get out in the first place; so why, why, oh why on earth would you want me to go back? [Laughter.] Did I look that unhappy at the party or something?

G.: [Laughter, bittersweet, but not malicious.] Not that I blame you. I am unhappy and you had every reason to think that, even if we didn’t get the chance to hash it out. [Pouring sounds.] I don’t blame you, chickpea, you’re just trying to help a friend out at his time of need. Speaking of that, though - did you get a chance to talk to Franck at the party? You’ve got to spill the beans if you did, I’ll spill mine; Jesus, you won’t believe what the bastard did to me. [Heavy thud.] I’m no use to mistreatment - all that time with my fellow models, oh yes, with those glorious sons of bitches, we’ve all been bought, been sold - and yet after all this time taking the high road you’d think there would be some...

G.: ... Fucking... wrong number.

[END VOICEMAIL]

I’ve wasted my nights,You turned out the lightsNow I’m paralyzedStill stuck in that timeWhen we called it loveBut even the sun sets in paradise

Voicemail 04: Recorded Sep 24, 3:03pm

Gesaffelstein: I went to our old pâtisserie today.

G.: [Pause.]

G.: Well. Mine. I never got to take you. [Pause.] They still do your favourite macarons. The melon one’s still exquisite, you know. I mean. I know. 

G.: Didn’t think they’d recognize me after so many months away. They remember you, too, and gave me an extra box of cinnamon and red bean for you. [Longer pause.] ... Just... call me... or leave me a message, when you get this... and I’ll put them on your desk on Monday. 

G.: [Lengthy silence. Quiet breathing sounds, at one point marginally louder, as if the receiver was hitched closer to his lips.]

G.: ... There was a couple in there. Two men. I’d say a little older than us. [Pause.] They were holding the cutest little boy in their arms. They were in front of me at the counter and I waved at the kid and he smiled at me. Well. Maybe a he. I couldn’t tell. Just a baby, really. A happy family.

G.: [Silence. When he next speaks his voice is very quiet.]

G.: ... I’d have liked one, too...

[END VOICEMAIL]

If happy ever afters did exist,I would still be holding you like thisAll those fairy tales are full of shitOne more fucking love song, I’ll be sick

Notes: w e l p

I knew that I was going to do this the earliest out of all the shuffle fic requests I received but it took me this long to figure out how lmao. I’m so sorry I’m lagging behind on everything let me die ;A  ; aaaaaaaaaaaaaIn the absence of identifying information I am going to assume you’re an anon aware of the shenanigans happening over at @akchotesuggestion. So yeah. Something to sink y’alls teeth into. Try comparing some of the voicemail dates here to the earlier ‘cher journal’ entries (like this one) for a nice bonus :3

also pls keep the wrong number person in mind

[noonstate]

okay so i’ve never told anyone about my experience seeing pr:uprising in the theatre, but it was buck wild. it was fine for the first half or so, maybe a bit less, and then something went wrong with the sound. everything mixed into the foreground was muffled, like it was underwater and very far away, and everything in the background was loud and crisp and clear. basically this meant that all the dialogue was muffled and the score and sound effects got a great show (honestly a+ job score guy, you did a good one) 

anyways. this is, for reasons i can’t quite explain, hysterical to me. possibly it’s because i cannot believe this theatre has fucked up so badly. possibly it’s because people are storming out angry and i’m having an excellent time. possibly it’s because the occasional word is apparently mixed into the background and so sometimes you just hear ‘mumble mumble KAIJU mumble mumble RARE EARTH mumble’.

this goes on. the projectionist either doesn’t know, doesn’t care, or can’t fix it. we get to the scene where they’re all heading off to fight the kaiju, finally. and then, suddenly, clear as day in full surround sound, is the trololol song. i am hysterical. i’m pretty sure i’m sobbing at this point with laughter, and the best part is that because the dialogue is muffled i have no idea why this has happened, and it all comes and goes so fast. 

and that’s the story of how i would have given my viewing of pacific rim: uprising a 10/10 as a comedy