#Anyways you can just take this as my version of how I think spooky month would be like in 2024 or smth | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

marindram · 4 years ago

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full transcription of Marin's blog from Omega Mart!

huge thanks to @b0chelly for recording a scroll-through, which i typed this out from. (and warning for Omega Mart lore/story spoilers. second half is in reblog)

Marinknows.best

Location: Seven Monolith Village

Last Login: 12/31/2019

Profile Views: 101,275

About me: I love listening to music and glitter

Friends (0)

June 26, 2018

Happy Birthday to meeeeeeeeee!

So 14 feels way different than 13. For real. I think it's because I was expecting 13 to feel different, but sometimes when you expect something it turns out the opposite ya know?

Plus, 13 is like, "I'm new to being a teenager!!"

14 is more like, "I'm becoming the person I want to be." At least that's how I want it to be. I wanted to start this blog as a record of all that.

I should ask Did you guys feel the same way when you turned 13 and 14?

But probably nobody's gonna read this because I'm just a weirdo in the weird dessert. I mean, I know my best friend Jesse is reading this (hi Jesse). Besides her, crickets.

But yeah, if you are reading this and you don't know me - I live in Seven Monolith Village, a teensy tiny town that you've only heard of if you're into aliens or homesteading. And I'm literally stuck. As in, I'm physically unable to leave. My first memories are of all the adults in my life (Charlie, my great-uncle/father-figure - Rose, my what? Roommate? Mother-figure? Pseudo-aunt? All of the above? and my mom, Cecelia. who doesn't live here) telling me that for some reason, there's something wrong with me that makes it so I can't leave a certain radius of where we live. I got older and thought that they were just exaggerating to keep me safe, but then last year I tried. And it was, let's just say not good.

Anyway. That part of my life sucks, but not everything sucks. This year is all about Marin Dram 2.0. Not new, but definitely improved.

And maybe someday, somehow somebody will read this and care about what I have to say. Somebodies, even. Until then, this is Marin Dram signing off and sending my lame contemplations into the void!

July 1, 2018

Things I Want To Do Before I Turn 20 (and some of these will never happen like are literally unable to happen but JUST LET ME DREAM

1. Kiss someone (who???)

2. Meet HTB (kiss him) (jk he would never) (plus meeting him would be enough)

3. Go to Paris

4. Go to Rome (or somewhere cooler in Italy, look up where is the best pasta???)

5. Go to Greenland (why not???)

6. Go to New York City

7. Go to LA (with a dream and my cardigan lol)

8. Go to the Grand Canyon (this isn't mine, but 9, Jesse is sitting right here and she went to the GC when we were 12 and she's like blah blah blah it's my favorite place in the world and you'll love it. I'm doing this so she'll shut up.

9. Live in a normal house with normal rooms → ideally 12 of them: living room AND TV room, kitchen, dining room, 3 bathrooms, 3 bedrooms, study/library.

-plus an upstairs downstairs

-I'm willing to compromise on the number of rooms as long as there's more than ONE for TWO PEOPLE and I got my own

-plus an upstairs/downstairs

-I'm willing to compromise on the number of rooms as long as there's more than ONE for TWO PEOPLE and I get my own room with an actual door. Very into doors.

10. Go to a mall (Jesse says there's a bunch of bonkers ones in Vegas)

11. Make friends who aren't Jesse (no offense, Jesse)

12. Get Cecelia (my "mom") to teach me about business stuff so I can open my own cool coffeeshop/bookstore someday

13. Learn to drive (ask Charlie to teach me, he's obsessed with his truck) (Jesse says she can teach me because she's Little Miss Mechanic and thinks she knows everything about cars but news flash Jesse: you're you get than me)

14. Figure out my signature style- like I want people to send me pictures of things and be like "this just screamed Marin" and for that to be true

15. Liquid eyeliner??

16. I'm stopping here because I just read over all this and want to die/cry because easily 3/4 of these are literally impossible?

17. Kill me

18. Bye

19. Lololol Charlie just came in and I was complaining about this, not being able to leave and stuff, etc and he said that I should visit new places by... reading books?? And I mean I like to read. But dude. That's the dumbest thing I've ever head.

July 30, 2018

Okay so this is what I want my life to look like:

I want a pink room. Not just pink... P I N K. Cool pink wallpaper (floral? jacquard??), pink carpet, lots of pink flowers everywhere, a four-poster bed with a pink silk canopy, lots of cool pink throw pillows. Like, so pink that

people think I'm being sarcastic! Oh, and BOOKS. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases, and some of the shelves have, like, STUFF on them that isn't books, like gifts people gave me, or things I've collected on my JOURNEYS. You know, normal stuff that people who live on normal places and do normal things have.

If I lived in in this room, it'd be in awhite three-story house at the end of a cul-de-sac (did you know "culs-de-sac" is the plural? Not "cul-de-sacs"? crazy) and I'd wear very classic girly clothes and my hair would always do what I wanted it to. It'd be one of those towns that people call small, but it's actually a city. just one with a kinda small, cozy feeling. Somewhere that gets cold enough to wear cute jackets but not so cold I have to to like, shovel my driveway. Not a non-place with like 100 people where you can't even go outside without going crazy.

August 2nd, 2018

I guess I should explain where I live, for all my avid fans out there! (lol) (hello??)

So like... I don't live on Earth. At least, not the Earth you think of when you think of EARTH. I live in some some weird off-brand version of Earth called the Forked Earth where there are aliens and magic wells of magic energy and everything is MAGIC but like the crappy kind of magic, where the sun never fully rises and some goo called "runoff" has made everything wacky and oh yeah, my mom is responsible for that and everyone here hates her!! LOL

Also, I can't leave! Like, literally can't! Rose says I'm a "special child of Source" and that's why but that LITERALLY explains tells me nothing, in fact it just raises further questions that no one can seem to answer! AHHHHHHHHHH

Anyway, the last time I tried to leave I felt. When I try to leave I feel like I'm being pulled back by something, like you know those old cartoons where someone's on stage doing something dumb and then someone offstage pulls them away with a giant shepard's crook? It felt like that, and when I opened my eyes I was back in 7 Monolith Village. UGH.

I know this sounds crazy!!!!! But believe me when I say that I am the least crazy person here. Also, """here""" is C R A Z Y. Runoff has made everything the bad kind of psychedelic and then people here actually DRINK IT! Not only do I not DRINK THE STUFF THAT HAS MADE THE WORLD INSANE, I also do not talk to aliens (or whatever Nula are) like Rose or believe crazy conspiracy theories like Charlie, so I believe that qualifies me as the most normal person in the Forked Earth, thank you for this honor, I accept this award with humility and grace!

September 4, 2018

I had the weirdest dream last night?? I was swimming in a pool full of cereal, and when I came up for air, my mom was pouring milk on my head like she was rinsing my hair. She had her hand over my face like I was a little kid and she was shielding me from soap getting in my eyes.

Anyway I have no idea what it's supposed to mean. I went to bed hungry and I need to take a shower? Lol

October 16, 2018

I was trying to hide this entry from Jesse, but JESSE IS A NOSY PERSON. She says that blogs are for readers, and if I wanted something to be private then I should "Just write in a fucking notebook and hide it under your bed like a normal person, Marin." I'm allowed to have secrets!! Anyway, I'm making her a freaking playlist, that's why I wouldn't tell her what I was writing about. but EVEN STILL! I'm allowed to have secrets!! But I have this blog because I wanna get my feelings out, I wanna see everything in my head typed out all nice in a way that doesn't make it look insane. You know? I don't know who I'm asking.) Because, it's not like I go to a normal school or have a normal life where I'm surrounded by normal people I can talk to. No one knows about me! I'm trapped in this crazy place and This blog is my only outlet to the world outside. I KNOW that's heavy but it's true! The point is: Jesse's birthday is coming up. The central consistent thing in pretty much my whole life is sharing headphones with her and listening to music. The soundtrack to my entire existence is her. I wish I had money and could buy her the best presents of all time, but I can make her the best playlist of all time. I want it to be so good it feels like magic. I want her to think I'm magic. I had another dream the other night. I don't remember much, just glitter. I must be crafting too much. Or looking at festival makeup tutorials. Or both.

November 12, 2018

WARNING- Weird thoughts ahead, lol.

I can never tell which feelings are normal, and which are me being a giant weirdo. But for as long as I can remember, I've had this feeling like every part of my body that's possible to have a ribbon tied around it, has a ribbon tied around it. It's so weird. I can't see the other end of the ribbons - how far they go. where they're attached, nothing. And sometimes it's fine, because sometimes I can hardly feel them. I can forget about them for days at a time, weeks, months if I'm lucky. But then other times I can feel them like, pulling at me. It's freaking spooky, to have something pulling at you from somewhere you can't see. I can't tell if it's pulling me toward whatever it is? Or if it's trying to warn me? Or if I'm just insane??

Does that make sense? Does anybody else feel that way? (she asks into the void)

So idk I guess this ribbons-feeling is why I'm really careful all the time. Like I'm just a careful person. Charlie tried to give me a hard time about it, and I can't be like "I don't wanna pull back in the ribbons too hard without realizing it and wreck something!" because he'd be like "WTF Marin, do we need to get you help?" But also, more and more, I want to be the opposite of careful. I want to take a pair of comically oversized scissors and cut the ribbons into so many pieces that nobody can even tell what they are any more.

I don't know why I'm such a freak, only that I am. I don't know why I can't leave 7 Monolith, only that I can't. But there must be a reason, even if I can't see it, and I feel like it makes sense that the ribbons-feeling is part of that reason, right?

There's just a lot.

January 15, 2019

Happy new year! Lol I forgot to write on the actual first day of 2019, but OH WELL!

I got this new glitter nail polish, thanks to the monthly makeup subscription box my "mom" sends me as an outlet for her abandonment guilt. It has like, every color glitter imaginable without quite reading as "rainbow" which is fine just not really what I was in the mood for and it's vaguely halographic and shifts into all these different colors depending on the light. I'm obsessed. Anyway.

I was putting on another layer because I chipped it like 20 minutes into wearing it, and all of a sudden I had this feeling like I recognized the glitter? Like I felt this thing way deep in my gut and for a minute I couldn't breathe. It's the closest thing I've felt to how books and movies make Christmas look. Like I was home, with family, cookies and cider and all that stuff. Familiar and safe. I almost didn't recognize that feeling. And it came from the nail polish. How weird is that.

I mean, I don't want to make it sound like I've had this awful Charles Dickens childhood - Rose and Charlie are the best ever and always there for me and I love them a lot. But things never feel like...home. You know?

My mom always says this cryptic stuff about how I'm "special" and I wanna strangle her because I'm not, but you try getting my mom to stop doing anything she wants to do. Rose told me once that one day, I would "lead the charge into a new era of existence and access" because I'm "of the Source" and I was like uhhhh okay?? Charlie mostly treats me pretty normal, except when I ask him questions about our family. my mom or any Dram. He knows that I want to know more about them and he's my only real entrypoint, but apparently he's like the black sheep of that whole family. He and my mom were close way back right before I was born, but now whenever she comes to visit he barely even looks at her.

So that's to say: nobody tells me anything, ever.

January 16, 2019

Okay this is so weird. I wrote that entry yesterday about glitter and then last night I dreamed about glitter. Then I woke up with purple glitter in my bed?? Like not a lot, so at first I thought it was from my nail polish, but it was just a handful of purely purple glitter that looks nothing like my nail polish. SO WEIRD!!!!!!

February 14, 2019

Rose has an old book full of "ye olde" style fairy tales, and I flipped through it for the first time in forever today.

Not so weirdly, I've always been drawn to the story of Rapunzel.

Rapunzel couldn't leave the tower, or else she'd break her neck and die.

Same.

February 19, 2019

I was reading this article the other day in one of the teen magazines my "mom" gets me a subscription to and it was all about body positivity, which is great, but it was basically just like "wear a crop top if you wannna wear a crop top! it doesn't matter what size you are! You go, girl!" And like, sure. Yes. I am all for that. But doesn't it seem like there are some steps missing in there? Like, I can physically put on a crop top and wear it outside. But how do I convince myself that everybody isn't looking at me and making fun of me in their minds? How do I unlearn the last almost-fifteen years? How do I get actually positive about my body, not just put on a crop top and fight the urge to cry all day?

It's the same thing like when my mom sends me brochures from the CEO camp she ten when she was my age (her dad started the camp for her, which is an insane thing just by itself, but she did all the work, which is even more insane) and she's like "Marin, you lack direction for your life" and I'm like, cool mom. Yeah. I can see that. What I can't see is how to get there from here.

March 2, 2019

This is what I want my life to look like, volume 2:

The walls of my room are covered in Polaroids of me and my friends. There are lots of mirrors in all kinds of shapes. hearts and moons and stars. There's a record player and a lot of vintage records by Billie Holiday and Lena Horne and Peggy Lee and Nina Simone. And Christmas lights! Everywhere! Lots of of pink and purple Christmas lights everywhere.

If I lived in this room, I'd have so many friends and be part of so many clubs. My best friend would have a collection of vintage cameras, and every place we go to that has a photo booth, we'd get photos taken. Every time I'd look at myself in one of those mirrors, I'd feel happy at what I see and never weird or sad. (Jesse hates taking pictures, so even when I actually do normal stuff with her there's no evidence. What even is a life supposed to be without evidence? That's not an actual question you need to answer Jesse, it's just a question)

Anyway, if I lived in this kind of room, my mom would probably be like, an art history professor at a liberal arts college. That's how come everything looks so cool, because I would know stuff about art. My mom and I would love to try new recipes together. We get each other new cookbooks for every special occasion, and right now we're working out way through a Moroccan one. Moroccan Mondays.

In actuality, there's a dust storm happening outside and my eyes sting.

March 9, 2019

Here's what I'm obsessed with lately.

Can. You. EVEN???

February 3, 2020

Omg I totally forgot this blog existed!!

I lost the password and instead of just resetting it I got in one of my super stubborn moods (Taurus moon lol) and just kept putting in guesses and jokes on me, it locked me out. Anyway, that's a boring story.

But my friend Ximena is really good at hacking and stuff, so she got me back in. Yeah you read that right - I have friends. Obviously a lot has happened since my last post. Ximena moved out here a couple months ago (X's family used to live here but they moved away a while ago) and she introduced me to Lora who I sorta-not-really already knew, and Jesse and I have been hanging out with them a ton. Jesse kind of more than me. Which is fine!!

Anyway I'm 15 now? If I lived somewhere normal I'd be psyched about almost being 16, because I'd get a car and have a Sweet Sixteen and eat a huge PINK cake, but I don't!

February 16, 2020

I read this fanfic the other night that was written in the second person so everything was like "you." "you're doing this" etc you know?

So... You go to a drive-in movie with Heartthrob Boy, and he spills soda on you by accident. And you take off your shirt ( you have a tank top on, don't worry) to clean it up, bit you're still all sticky and self-conscious about being sticky and HTB like... used his tongue to get it off??? AAHHHHH I'M DISGUSTING

but also I wonder if a boy will ever touch any part of me with his tongue

March 2, 2020

Hi I don't know if you heard but I have friends :)))

March 15, 2020

I think I'm so into painting my nails and doing my hair because those are things that always fit. I don't have to worry about places not carrying about a size 8, or places that carry XLs but when you read the measurements they're actually size 8s too and it's like jesus if that's an XL what am I

My "mom" was confused why I needed new pants because mine still look new, but I showed her the thigh holes and she was like "that's a weird place for a hole, how did that happen" and I realized that when your legs are a certain size, you just don't know about thigh rub and what it does to clothes. Pants could just last for years.

No matter what, I can paint my nails with a different color nail polish on every finger, and I can always do a braid crown. And I know I'm cute as hell, etc, so this is not a Marin Needs to Learn to Love Herself thing. It's just an UGH thing

April 17, 2020

So Rose does all these Source experiments on plants and flowers and stuff. Tbh, it's just one if those things I hardly even register anymore because it's just always there. She's explained to me a million times what Source is/does/means, but the way Rose explains things sometimes is just a LOT to take in and she refers to me as a "child of Source" but I kinda figure that's like "child of God" right? What else would that mean?

But anyway, it's really annoying because dried flowers are a part of my new aesthetic and I pinned a bunch of them up on my wall but I woke up this morning to a freaking jungle of very alive flowers. I freaked out. on Rose, and she Rose said she didn't do it and I was like WELL THEN WHO DID and she said that I did??

Which like. Obviously that doesn't make sense. I asked her what she meant and She just shook her head and said " It's happening. We should have known" which is some horror movie shit that she refused to elaborate on. I love to feel safe and normal!!

Or maybe it's not a horror movie at all. But maybe it's a superhero movie? Maybe there's some kind of origin story I don't know about yet, and all of this will be worth it once I figure out my powers. I wonder what my costume will look like. Lol.

April 23, 2020

Is it possible to die from longing? I know that sounds melodramatic, but I'm also kinda serious?? Because it seems like one of those things that could fester and get infected and kill you. It's like when you fall down and bang up your knee, and you need to put a band-aid on the scrape for a while, but THEN you need to air it out - but how do you know when you're supposed to do each one of those things? And if you do either one too much, your knee gets infected. What if I smother my heart with band-aids for too long and it gets infected? This isn't about anybody. I just keep having these dreams about someone I never expected to have dreams about and they're so intense that they keep leaking into my life and I wonder if I need to do something about them.

May 2, 2020

So Jesse's gotten really into metal music, and I tried to get her to play me something since, AS PREVIOUSLY ESTABLISHED, that's what we've literally ALWAYS DONE with music and each other, and she kinda looked at Ximena out of the corner of her eye and said like "I don't think it's really your thing" And it was the meanest thing anybody's ever said to me.

So later I looked up Zenion, the band she was talking about, and I listened to every single fucking song they've ever recorded turned up as loud as it could go with my own headphones that are better than hers anyway, and I loved it. And I didn't love it just because she said I wouldn't. I loved it because it was loud and weird and wild and when I listened to it it made me feel like it's not crazy when so feel stuff so hard it's like my heart's gonna vibrate out of my body. And I would have told Jesse all this and we could have shared it, but I guess she thinks just because I like HTB and glitter and stuff, I don't have the capacity for anything else.

She clearly doesn't know me at all. So much for any kind of whatever, why would she ever want to kiss someone she clearly sees as like a stupid baby.

May 7, 2020

The dreams are getting weirder and they're happening more. I'm getting scared to go to sleep. Not that the dreams are always scary (they almost never are, or not scary like in a typically scary horror movie way). I mean, I've only ever been me. I don't know what other peoples' dreams are like.

The other night in one I was jumping on a trampoline, which is something I've never done in real life. I told Rose about it when I woke up, and she said "do you even know how to jump on a trampoline?" and I said "Rose, it's not like riding a bike. You don't have to learn. You just jump." and then we got into this whole thing about how some things we just know, and jumping's one of them, and how that's so weird. Sometimes I really like talking to Rose about stuff.

May 19, 2020

So, it's prom season in the real world. If I lived somewhere normal, my prom dress would be pink with lots of tulle and silk flowers at the shoulders, and it would fit perfectly and trying in dresses would be fun and not anxiety-inducing.

But since there are only like 10 teenagers currently in 7MV, were not having a homecoming. Cool.

May 27, 2020

So, mom came to visit this weekend, and I asked her about her prom. She was Typical Cecelia at first, very "Prom is a waste of time and money, Marin. It's a night when lesser people play dress-up to engage with their aspirations of grandeur." And I was like eyeroll forever and just stopped talking. BUT THEN she actually talked to me like a human being. She was like, "I actually didn't go to my prom" and when I asked her why she said that she didn't have a date, and was very self-conscious about it. I almost passed out at her admitting that she's ever been anything less than perfect.

(gonna continue this in reblog)

#omega mart #marin dram #omega mart lore

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photiniainsummer · 3 years ago

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Something Worth Celebrating

Rating: General Audiences (basically GenFic)

Summary: Dark admits he sort of, kind of has a birthday. And then he sort of, kind of asks you to throw him a party.

I know. Pinch me, I must be dreaming.

(Basically a purely indulgent fic where Dark gets to be happy for 0.2 seconds. Yes, it's late, please forgive me, Mr. Darkiplier sir.)

(second person POV, gender neutral reader)

Word Count: 4906

Author’s Note: No warnings. Honestly just tooth-rotting tenderness. This is a super-late birthday 'present' for our favorite spooky ego that I just couldn't get out of my head. Also posted to AO3!

The thought strikes you in the midst of your weekly scan of Mark’s content. While Dark makes sure to check his uploads and social media presence moment-to-moment, you often join his weekly wrap-up review sessions as a second, fresh set of eyes. It’s usually a silent and uneventful affair, with Dark sitting at his desk and you to one side of it, both focused on the week’s batch of content as it projects on the opposite wall. Hooking up the projector was easier than hunching over Dark’s laptop, the two of you bunched together around the screen, and it usually meant you could catch and examine any irregularities with greater accuracy. Not that there had been any for months. Mark’s content has become suspiciously unsuspicious, with no odd shot changes in the middle of playthroughs, no sideways comments in food reviews… and so your mind has started wandering during your viewings.

It’s not that his content is boring. But it’s hard to enjoy Mark’s lighthearted commentary, really, knowing the man for what he is: a manipulative, body-snatching, undead creature bent on conquering the hearts and minds of the world. That kind of imposing terror makes it hard to kick back and enjoy him goofing through a new horror game.

And, yet, despite that same terror, it’s difficult to stay fully focused on the task at hand. Maybe it’s the lack of weirdness lulling you into being unobservant - maybe that’s Mark’s goal. Regardless, he makes a jokey comment, surprised by a new onslaught of enemies so soon after receiving a new weapon - “What, is it my birthday?” - and though he proceeds to casually mow down a fresh flood of zombies, your mind is nowhere near his running monologue. No, you’re off on a tangent of wonderings - When exactly is his birthday, anyway? Is it soon? Do the egos share his, or do they have their own, if they know it? When would they celebrate it, anyway? Did Mark build in birthdays for them when he summoned them up, or was it whatever day they were formed from some strange, shadowy process you still don’t know the specifics of? It’s a strange and vaguely sad thing to ponder, your mouth turning down at the corners as you roll it around in your mind. To your side, Dark sighs softly, reaching out to pause the current video. Mark’s face freezes in an unflattering expression, and you turn to look at the entity.

“What, think of something?”

“No,” he demurs, scrubbing the video back. “But you are distracted. What do you last remember?” He doesn’t sound annoyed, which is a little surprising. Where a few months ago he would have bitten off a sharp comment about your wandering attention, he just gives you a mild look when you don’t immediately respond, hands hovering at his computer. It speaks to how routine this has become for you both, how each of you has grown accustomed to the other - the ringing of his aura barely registers for you now, although you were certain when you arrived that investing in a lifetime supply of ibuprofen was a basic requirement for working in close proximity to Dark for any extended period of time.

That’s when the thought strikes you - you meandering thoughts crystallizing around his presence, centering on him. You have to wonder how much of your thought process Dark actually heard, if your idle thoughts are loud enough for him to pick up. But seeing as he’s not making any attempt to immediately answer, nor chide you for thinking about such unimportant things, the thought, as a question, easily tumbles out between you.

“Do you have a birthday?”

He immediately furrows his brow, blinking in surprise. “What?”

“I said, do you have a birthday?” you repeat, committing to this line of questioning. You go so far as to turn slightly in your chair to look at him better, attention fully directed at him. Dark sighs and turns back to the computer, picking a spot in the video a couple of minutes ago, certainly farther back than necessary.

“I heard what you said,” he clarifies. “I am attempting to understand what could have possibly brought that up.”

“He said something about his birthday. It just got me thinking, that’s all.” Dark pauses, squinting his eyes ever so slightly at the screen. His cursor hovers over the playback bar, obviously considering his next move. You pause with him, then a smile tugs at your mouth. “You missed that, didn’t you.”

“I did not. It was merely an inane comment, so I did not take note of it.” He’s a little too indignant, too quick with that response, and it makes you laugh. He shoots you a patented glare, although it carries very little true malice. “When did he say that.”

“A couple minutes forward, it’s right after he gets that new gun.” Dark hums in response, clearly still miffed at having been successfully teased, but in a good-natured sort of way. You watch him scrub for the right spot, lulling back into a comfortable silence for a few moments before you remember what brought all this up and press on. “So, do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Don’t be obtuse, come on. Do you have a birthday?”

“They had birthdays,” he remarks. You recall them, or, at least, a picture of them, the only one you’ve seen that isn’t a staged portrait. You like it better than the stiff, properly posed photographs Dark hesitantly showed you once, when he had finally explained his origins to you. In the one you preferred to remember, a well-dressed woman and man hug each other close as they smile warmly into the camera. It’s some holiday, or just an excuse to get together - there are garlands blurred in the background - and the woman is holding a fancy-looking drink in the hand that isn’t wrapped around behind her brother, tugging him into frame. He looks a bit put-upon, smiling almost embarrassedly as if the woman has cajoled him in front of the cameraperson into taking a picture with her. But his expression, for all it implies, is still warm. His body curls close to his sister, his hold on her obviously affectionate. The woman is beaming like she’s won, squeezing her brother close as her cheeks apple, her painted lips curled in such pride. Her eyes dance, catching the light of the camera’s flash. They look comfortable, happy, beautiful. Full of life. The woman’s smile had pulled one out of you, when you saw it.

Dark’s explanation of how he had come to be makes the memory all the sadder, the melancholia curling around your throat even as you remember it now.

“I, on the other hand, was not born,” he explains, and for a moment you begin to regret bringing it up. But the shadow-bathed man doesn’t seem bothered, his tone matter-of-fact, simple. You know it pains him still, you saw the look on his face as he described how he had come to be, how his aura had raged around him like he was going to pull apart. How their faces had appeared in agonized red and blue flashes behind him - now that you knew what you were looking for, you could see them as themselves, not just as Dark.

Which makes the fact he can say something that directly referential without threatening to rip through existence sort of comforting. Is he just comfortable with you, now, knowing that you know? Whatever it is, you decide it’s a good thing, and settle back in your chair. “Well, sure, not as such, but… do you celebrate theirs?” you ask, as gently as you can.

“I do not.” Dark finds the proper place in the video, advancing to it.

“So you don’t celebrate you… coming into being, on any particular day?”

“I do not.” You squint slightly.

“You don’t,” you repeat. Dark sighs once more, bringing a hand to his brow in the way he does when Wilford is being particularly taxing.

“No. I do not. But the… fans. Do.” It’s an answer given through gritted teeth - the man finds the celebration of him and his many appearances in Mark’s work frustrating, to put it simply. Of course, he’s completely committed to his role as the villain the actor dreamed of, and won’t lie and say he doesn’t find it utterly amusing how Mark’s own fans seem to like him more than the actor himself. But all that is tinged with the truth of his conscription into this role, the indignity of being painted as the wicked mirror image of the man who took everything from him. It is particularly insulting, particularly painful. So to have some false version of him celebrated and adored, is…

Well, to use his words: Disgusting.

You would go for complicated, instead. It does feels strange to have them celebrate a fictionalized version of the entity next to you, given the reality of the situation, but it’s not like you can fault them for what they don’t know. They’re caught up in Mark’s game - it isn’t their fault. Still, you aren’t really surprised they found a whole day to put aside for the man.

“What day did they pick?”

“Hm?” Dark seems caught up in some internal brooding, set off by the memories of the fanart he’s seen. You prod again.

“What day is it? That they made your ‘birthday’?”

He pauses a moment, considering. You can tell he knows, he’s just debating whether or not to tell you. Whether or not this will have unintended consequences. “June 19th. It was the first time Mark posted something… strange enough to be counted as my first ‘appearance.’ So it is my birthday, by their reckoning.” He pauses again. “I suppose it is as good a day as any. Although I do not understand it - why would someone want to celebrate my existence?”

His tone takes this bitter, harsh edge, and you instinctively want to cringe against it. But you also know how Dark hates you trying to be delicate with him. It’s better to be honest, to know his reactions are not for you, but for his situation. For Mark. So you suppress the desire to turn away from it, instead reaching across the bit of desk between you to touch his arm. He doesn’t react, apart from flicking his eyes to rest on your hand. Touching him like this, yours fades to take on the same black-and-white cast as his own.

“For what it’s worth, I’d want to celebrate it. I’m glad you’re here.” You squeeze him very gently, as if trying to impress that more fully into his mind. “And… they don’t really know you, but, I mean. I think they’d like you even more, want to celebrate you more, if they did.”

Dark is silent, gaze falling to a whorl of wood in his polished desk as he considers your words. He doesn’t immediately reply and you take your hand away, not wanting to be overly touchy-feely about the whole thing. Or, at least, you don’t want to be if that’s not what Dark wants. You’d be the first to console him, if you could, but it’s hard to get a read on what might help the man most. He lives in his head, unaccustomed to sharing much with the other egos, let alone someone who hasn’t directly been through what they have. Your position on the outside imposes a distance that even having worked so closely with him for so long hasn’t yet bridged. Still, you leave that door open for him whenever you gracefully can, whenever it doesn’t feel like you’re opening it to force him through.

You try show him he can walk through whenever he likes. If he likes.

The man shifts slightly, reaching out to adjust a small pile of papers. He puts them to rights, even though they’re already perfectly in line with each other. When he finally speaks, his voice is almost covered by its own deep echo.

“If I am honest, I meant more… why would they celebrate the man they see, the ‘Darkiplier’ in his works? He is not a good man, by any means. He tells the truth, Mark’s confidence in himself sees to that. But they do not know it. He seems to seek to trap the audience through lies, manipulation… I simply do not understand the appeal.” You feel a little caught out, wondering if you jumped a bit too eagerly on his statement as a chance to comfort him. “However…”

He stops, realizing he’s run out of papers to arrange, things to fidget with. Folding his colorless hands in front of him, he finally and intentionally turns to look your way. It’s a slow, steady motion, heavy with purpose. When you meet his intensely contrasted eyes, they fall gently on you. His expression is open, almost bare. Devoid of any bitterness, frustration - his usual armor.

“...it is incredibly kind of you to say that. About me. I. I sincerely appreciate it.”

The hesitancy in his voice, yet how honestly he continues on, intent on telling you this… It’s enough to break your heart. You give him a tender smile.

“You’re not exactly that man in those videos, Dark. Not the way he has you play it, know you well enough to tell that… But even if you were, you have reason enough for it, I’d wager.”

That gets you a wry smile from the man. “Enough reason to pull ourselves back from the dead?”

You laugh, softly. “Yeah, something like that.” At your mirth, the lines of his body begin to relax, and he eases back into his seat somewhat. It’s a rare sight, Dark letting himself relax, be still for a moment. Even his aura, ever-roiling, merely seems to ebb and flow around him in gentle pulses. His mouth stays gently turned up as he looks at nothing in particular, gaze easy on some middle distance. You can tell he’s thinking, even at minor peace like this, but has no real intention to speak again. Sensing the Big Heart-To-Heart Moment™ has passed, you sigh and look back over your sparse notes. “Should we get back to it, though? I totally derailed us.”

Dark pauses a bit longer in the moment before he idly waves a hand and reaches out to close the lid of his computer. “There is nothing interesting this week, really. I think we can call it there, unless you are especially invested in head-exploding physics.” You pull a face.

“Not particularly. I can finish going over it later, anyway. Just in case.” You stretch and twist in your chair with a sigh. “Think I’ll make some coffee - can I get you a cup?”

“Are you going to use the cafetiere?”

“No, I thought the Mr. Coffee would be better. Really gets it nice and watery, just like you like.” Dark scrunches up his nose in the most totally undignified way, and god that makes you belly-laugh, bending slightly over the desk to support yourself. It breaks him, getting a real smile to curl over his face. He can be such a goofball, when he wants to be. “Of course I was gonna use the cafetiere. Who do you take me for?”

“I have to check, I have had many a disappointing cup after agreeing too eagerly. But yes, I will take one, if it isn’t too much trouble.”

“None at all,” you hum, coming down from your laughing fit. You make your way out of his office but before you can turn the corner, Dark calls your name, stopping you in the doorway. You look back to him, and he seems… at ease. His hands are folded across his middle, he’s resting back in his desk chair. The ghost of a smile is still on his face. You try to bottle that moment, preserve it mentally. “Yeah?”

“Thank you. Again. And…” He hesitates for a beat, making some decision. “If you or the others would like to do something. On the day. My… sort-of birthday… I would not be opposed.”

You force your jaw to stay in place and not hit the floor. Wilford will go ballistic. You don’t know if the mustachioed ego will be able to handle the thought of throwing Dark a real birthday party - he might just explode in a haze of confetti and glitter stars. Blinking, you right yourself, finding your head nodding before you even know what it’s doing.

“I. Y-Yeah! Sure, we. We could definitely do that. Do… something.” Dark just smiles a little more fully, exhaling a laugh. “I’ll. I’ll talk to them about it.”

Holy shit.

“Wonderful. It will be nice to have a reason to have a proper party. Something to celebrate. Don’t you think?” You’re nodding again, agreeing wholeheartedly, but dazedly, too. You don’t realize you’re just standing there sort of staring until Dark tilts his head thoughtfully to one side. “Is… coffee still happening?”

“Huh?” You remember. “Oh. Oh! Shi- I mean, shoot. I mean. Yes. Yeah. I. Coffee, yes. I’m… gonna do that.”

As you beat a hasty and red-faced retreat to the kitchen, bursting with ideas, you can just make out the man giving the faintest, echoing chuckle.

---

You don’t think you’ve ever felt such pure excitement in the Manor before. The air is practically buzzing with pure, unbridled energy as you approach Dark’s office door. Downstairs, you can hear the egos making final preparations underneath Wilford’s speaking in an overly dramatic tone, giving some kind of grand speech. Likely a rallying of the troops into being on their best behavior for their de facto leader. You can’t help a smile and a shake of your head - maybe he’d take his own advice tonight.

Either way, everything is ready, so you rap on the birthday boy’s outer office door. He’d graciously locked himself away after retrieving his morning coffee so you would all have the space to prepare. Of course, he hadn’t escaped early-morning birthday wishes from you and the Host, nor a fresh-cut bouquet of flowers you two had collected for him. You’d even carried them up to his office for him, just so he wouldn’t have to touch them himself and risk draining their color. The memory of how sort of bashful he’d looked, the you really shouldn’t have energy that had rolled off him as he directed you to set them on his desk - it makes you grin in anticipation for this evening as he calls for you to enter, now.

He’s sitting by the fireplace, apparently killing time with a book which he looks up from as you enter. An inquiring look pulls his brow. “All prepared?”

“Oh yes. Your party awaits you, sir.” Dark huffs a laugh and rises, setting his book aside. He’s dressed a bit differently, still in slacks and a tie but with the addition of a waistcoat closely fit over his dress shirt, which is slightly rolled up over his forearms. Then he begins to fix them, going for his jacket, and you have to interject. “Are you really going to wear a full suit to your party?”

Dark stops, looking confused. And a little concerned. “I. Was intending to, yes.”

Oops. “I mean, you always wear a suit,” you chide as gently as you can. “They look nice, but the whole point is celebrating, relaxing a little? Besides, you look nice just like that.” Dark pauses, casting a look over himself. He absently adjusts his waistcoat, and you notice a thin chain connected to one of the buttons loops into one pocket. Has he always had a pocket watch?

“You are certain it is not too… casual.” He almost sounds worried, the poor thing. You give him a reassuring smile as you approach, picking up his jacket and folding it with care before hanging it over your arm.

“I’ll bring it down, but I think you’ll be more comfortable like that. Though you aren’t totally dressed, yet.” The man gives you an utterly baffled look, and you grin in response, bringing out a brightly colored party hat. His look sours immediately.

“Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on.”

“No. I am already being made to go down undressed, I will not go with bells on.”

Sometimes you forget he’s just a grumpy grandpa. You pull out the big guns. “Well… we’re all wearing them,” you hum, your own firmly in place. “Besides, Wilford insisted. And he’s the Decoration Czar. Self-proclaimed, but he rules with an iron fist.” Dark makes a valiant effort to hold onto his resolve, but it weakens in the face of you invoking the mustachioed man. With a soft, amorphous grumble, he pulls the elastic band of the hat under his chin.

Now that you understand a little more about how Dark and Wilford had come to be, their bond makes a lot more sense, even for all Dark’s frustrated looks shot the more light-hearted man’s way in the midst of meetings. Even before you knew the depth of their bond, Dark had always seemed surprisingly willing to go along with Wilford’s more doable requests, less inclined to irritatedly snip at him for his foolishness. As Dark adjusts his party hat in a nearby mirror (making sure his well-coiffed hair isn’t too disturbed by his headwear), you’re glad that, although Wilford may not fully be aware of it, the two of them have each other.

He drops his hands with a sigh. “I look ridiculous.” He’s positioned the cone-shaped hat directly pointing up in the middle of his head, and. Well. It looks way too proper, but very Dark all at once. You chuckle, coming close to help.

“You should see the den. It’s a wreck,” you tease, reaching for his hat, giving the man enough time to wave you off. But he doesn’t, just watching you in the mirror as you adjust it (careful of his curls) to a more jaunty angle. His aura has already absorbed the color from it, but it looks party-appropriate. More importantly, Dark seems a bit more at ease as he gets used to how it looks. You wonder if he’s ever worn a party hat in his life. “There, much better.”

“Hm. Then I suppose I am ready.”

“As you’ll ever be. C’mon, they’re all waiting.” When he turns from the mirror, you playfully offer him your arm. You think you’ll get an eyeroll, a dismissive but amused huff at best. You aren’t anticipating him looping his arm in yours and giving you this little smile that warms his eyes and has you pulling up short. He chuckles somewhat at your reaction, your lack of movement.

“I thought I was being escorted.”

“Uh. You. You are, oh, you definitely are, hold on to your socks, you’re about to experience the best escorting of your life.” Dark’s free hand comes up to help suppress the grin that threatens to split his face as you lead him from the office and down to the almost overwhelmingly decorated den. While the room is comfortably illuminated by a variety of the Manor’s most colorful lamps, the light is somewhat low and catches on the sparkling garlands heavily draped on the walls. Matching balloons bob at varying intervals and a rousing cheer goes up as you and Dark enter, a flood of grins turning your way. Music cuts on - something upbeat and jazzy - and the flock of egos quickly descends on the object of celebration, Wilford leading the charge and pressing a drink into the man’s hand after a massive bear hug. You release Dark’s arm to let the crowd of other egos at him, covering him in birthday wishes and affectionate pats on the back (their boldness inspired by Wilford, no doubt), before eagerly showing off all their preparations.

While Yancy explains the variety of possible games he’s worked up, getting a horribly wry grin out of the shadowy man at his creation of ‘pin the cravat on the Actor,’ you step back a bit to make sure Dark’s suit jacket is safely out of the way of the night’s oncoming revelry. Clearly, he’s already forgotten it, much to your pleasure. The bar is lined up with a few drink options, pre-made cocktails and bottles of wine opened to breathe, a number of elegantly arranged finger foods courtesy of resident chef Google Alpha. Carefully, you tuck Dark’s jacket under the bar in an empty shelf and before scooping up a drink of your own and tossing yourself back into the fray.

It goes a lot more smoothly than you had anticipated - everyone quickly falls into comfortable conversation, dipping into the snacks and games when it lulls. Wilford manages to keep his pants on despite threatening to provide a different kind of ‘entertainment’ at one point (and in spite of encouraging whistles from Bing and the Jims, who are quick to shove a camera in Wil’s direction). Further, Dark survives having ‘Happy Birthday’ sung to him, even blowing out the single candle in the middle of the complicated-looking tiramisu Alpha crafted.

It’s a rousing success, by all measures.

By the time you finally get a chance to sidle back up to Dark, the easy hum of the party has kicked up to a bit more of an excitable buzz as the jazz records have turned more and more swinging. Yandere and Illinois clearly know what they’re doing, beating a quick step around the open dance floor and grinning like bandits as Yancy does his best to help poor Eric get over the hurdle of not staring at your feet when you dance. The Manor feels more full than it usually does, with all of you crowded in the one room together, and you can see the warm, pure energy of it all is having a similar effect on Dark as it is on you - you don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile so much, small as they are.

Another thought hits you, even better than the one that prompted this whole affair. Grinning, you quickly gesture over the nearest Google. With the music like it is, it’s hard to speak over the ruckus, but you mime taking a picture and Green gets the idea, his glasses getting a particular sheen to them so you know he’s flipping through his interface. Once he gives you a thumbs up, you gently tug Dark down by the arm and gesture in Green’s direction. “Say ‘cheese,’” you prompt, and the shadowy man pulls a face.

“I don’t think-”

“Oh, just one, Dark, c’mon,” you poke. “He’s set up and everything.” With a sort of resigned huff, the man twists and gets his free arm around you, hand resting carefully on your back as you get yours around him, bringing him in closer.

Then, almost in your ear, you hear his very dour voice say, “Cheese...” and it breaks you. You’re busting out laughing, forcing yourself not to double over or spill your drink, and over the music and your own laughter, you can hear Dark chuckling, the subsequent snap of Green’s camera feature. The latter catches the most attention, the gathered egos coming running as soon as they realize pictures are happening.

Suddenly, everyone wants in, smushing in as close as they can get to you and Dark, bickering when elbows ‘accidentally’ find soft sides and someone worms in front of someone else, Green taking pictures all the while of the ensuing chaos. Dark’s aura is starting to rouse from its relatively peaceful state when you decide it’s gone on long enough. You quickly clap and break up the worst of the infighting, getting folks arranged as best you can. By the time you finish and most everyone is settled, Dark is wearing a very betrayed look and Wilford’s heavy arm, which is hugging him quite close to his side. With a playful shrug, you pick your way back to your spot.

“I thought you said one,” he grumps softly even as you both get your arms situated comfortably around the other.

“You believed me?” His eyes get a bit wide - you trick Dark? You trick him into photograph like the child? - but you turn away with a triumphant smile. “Green, set your glasses on the bar, get in!”

The android quickly obliges, setting the timer and sliding in among his copies as he counts you down. “Okay,” you call, “everyone say ‘Darkling!’”

The cacophony of laughter and broken-up attempts at the word is something you’ll never forget.

---

Google sends you the photos the next morning, as the Manor collectively attempts to nurse minor to severe hangovers. Flipping through and marking the best ones to print and frame, you get to see the first one of the two of you.

In it, you’re hugging each other close, smiling warmly into the camera. There are garlands blurred in the background and you’re holding a fancy drink, tugging Dark into frame. That slightly embarrassed tinge is gone from his smile, but he still looks cajoled, still smiles as affectionately as he ever has. There’s no doubt he’s changed - the photo warps to try to capture his existence, red and blue fragments breaking up the image - but his expression is still warm. And you look so pleased with yourself, so amused, eyes dancing with success and joy.

Full of life.

It pulls a smile out of you.

#markiplier fanfiction #markiplier egos #darkiplier #ego fanfiction #happy birthday mister man light of my life #sorry it is late i was a pile of mental goop after exams #mad market pliers ramblings #fanfiction

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steve0discusses · 4 years ago

Text

S5 Ep 3: Apdnarg is Really Hard to Spell

Yo guys, people are getting vaccinated, the sun is parting through the clouds, and I felt so nice that I even stopped listening to quite so many throwback 00′s BTS mashups (and yet I keep clicking on these dissonant catastrophes thinking “this time it’s got to be better. This time they’ll figure it out.” and like, no. Turns out you can’t match Brittany’s Toxic with BTS’ Black Swan. You can’t do that.)

This must be a sign that things are getting better. If anything, it means my personal tastes are improving. I mean I only clicked on like 3 “Dark Academia” Playlists where I could pretend I’m some sort of spooky witch in an abandoned library with a bad music player and basic taste in classical music (like can we ban Satie from Youtube for a little while?). Hell, I might even do a prompt update to this blog!

Yeah, you heard me, I’m actually going to stay ahead of the update schedule for Yugioh Abridged (maybe. I haven’t actually watched cuz of spoilers, I just noticed the thumbnail pop up on Youtube and was like “Damn it, they came out of hiatus??? I got hurry UP.”)

Anyway, speaking of the sky parting.

I’ll have you know my bro said this is actually more like a circumcision and it was one of the worst thing I have ever heard.

We get a chance to take in this lineup of confusing and varied character designs, and Joey. who is...still Joey.

The animators probably had to hold a strike in order for them to put Yugi in the audience, lets be real. There are TOO MANY PEOPLE in this shot and one is wearing a turban where you draw every single wrap. I hope those artists charged by the line.

Tea has a subplot where she’s just very frustrated with everyone she knows. They have been traveling together for like many weeks and got trapped in a foreign country so I get it. But at the same time, it’s kind of hard to picture Tea with female friends.

Because right now you got this 12 year old child, the other duelist who does not care about anything besides cards, and Kaiba’s 3 dragon cards that we’ve all collectively decided are female.

Hell it’s almost like the writers are asking themselves why Tea is here. Maybe they forgot. There’s no more ghosts to bus, no more people to knock out with her ass with random Olympic feats. Tea’s just sidelining.

(read more under the cut)

Mokuba is a itty bit bit taller this season, and so I guess that means he can legally climb on top of the cherry picker in order to give a riveting speech.

Really says a lot about Mokuba that he is so unphased about talking to, I dunno...an entire planet of people. Kind of a shame we never see this courage from Mokuba used for anything other than talking really, really big and giving everyone around him a really hard time.

Mokuba takes a moment to dunk on Yugi Muto, as is Kaiba tradition.

And then introduce the first pair of duelists, which obviously must be between the few people in this tournament that we actually know and care about.

Thankfully, in between last episode and this episode, Yugi has figured out who his own Grandpa is. This is a relief, because Yugi is such a mess, that I was fully convinced it would take over half a season for him to recognize it. I mean how long did it take him to figure out he shares a body with a ghost? Like half a season?

Instead Yugi recovered gracefully from not recognizing his grandpa, but it’s not like he bothered to tell anyone else, so the rest of our cast is just gonna be like “Is he my hairdresser? The guy who delivers my mail? Who is this guy who made absolutely no significant changes to his outfit or voice?”

Like sometimes this show goes full Spongebob silly kid’s show and you never know when to take it seriously or not. They might be sacrificing the entire cast next episode. I really don’t know. But for now their big concern is who is grandpa??? Like an innocent card version of “Are you my Mother?”

Faced with public speaking, Yugi decides to have a melt down.

We have seen him face monsters, we’ve seen him on TV dozens of times, he’s been in multiple competitions...but give a speech? Of course he can’t do that. The kid doesn’t attend enough school to know how to do that. Them’s learning skills.

And that was when a newly assembled wife-jet spliced through the sky like a souped up razer scooter and deposited 1 fully equipped Seto Kaiba in a Buzz Lightyear jetsuit.

THE RECOVERY.

Seto always watching over his Brother, ready to save this awkward party if it kills him (and it really should, that suit is held together by two seat-belts), making sure to get on that platform before Yugi starts going off about how he’s half an Ancient Egyptian. (Ah, life before social media. You could just be hella famous and also half a dead dude and people would just not know. I kinda miss the time before I knew literally everything about everyone.)

Please admire how close those flames are to setting Mokuba’s heavily hairsprayed mane completely alight. It would be an unforgettable spectacle.

These were absolutely just random ass jet packs that Gozaburo Kaiba made to kill hell tons of people, right? Like Seto found it in the family cabin, clutched to the heart of some crispy fried corpse and was like “neat! Mokuba! I found a cool toy!” and just plucked that thing out of that skeleton’s clutches and has been flying around for months?

Like this is Seto Kaiba’s Butter Glider, right?

Seriously what type of vehicle license do you need for one of these things? RIP My ‘Seto only has a scooter license’ headcanon.

Which I’m only even thinking about because I’ve had to try and make an appt with the DMV for days to get a freakin REAL ID. I went to sleep in 2019 and I could fly on a plane. I woke up in 2021 and it’s like “Want one last screw you?” and just...can 2020 please stop screwing me over? It’s March.

Anyway, the Jet is removed soon after, so no, this is not part of his new outfit. He goes right back to his Post-S4-Trauma-Normcore.

After wrestling this competition out of his brother’s hands and confusing everyone in the audience, Roland must have gotten the memo to cut the microphone before Seto got too excited and we were quickly ushered on to the next stage of the tournament.

One sec...the BTS Mashup playlist I just clicked on did a Black Swan X 7 rings mashup and it’s the worst thing my ears have ever heard.

Holy crap. I had to actually turn down my volume. Like...Ariana Grande already has music that has way too many overlapping singing parts on it--and then lets just stick a 52-person boy band on top? That’ll fix it. Yeah. Go ahead.

Wow. Even I had to change the song and you know how much I enjoy pop culture mistakes.

Spot the Mickey but like a million times easier because it’s a Massive Dick Shaped Dragon.

Yep. That’s my grocery shopping outfit. Except maybe not a lab coat and a duel disk. Wish I had a duel disk, that would make social distancing just a hell ton earlier. Just a “Yo, only one person in checkout, please” and then bap them on the head with a propelled discuss/hologram.

Anyway, Grocery shopping/Doctor man dueled the Purple Hair Boy, and considering that Purple Hair got screen time and shook Yugi’s hand once--I think that Doctor man doesn’t stand a freakin chance.

Good. I hate him.

Also, every time he breathes he’s gonna fog up his glasses. I have experience in this area. He can’t read his own cards in the same way I can’t read my phone if I’m in the refrigerated aisle.

So the way this tournament works, is everyone has to sit in the stadium to watch the show. Kinda like showing up to a football stadium just to watch a recorded TV monitor...but then again...that is how it feels to watch a football game at a football stadium when it’s live (at least with the tickets I usually get.)

And as we watch Grandpa waiting for his competitor, we find out that his competitor (Joey) is too busy eating snacks to give him the time of day.

Why do cartoon hot dogs always have lettuce? Is that seriously supposed to be relish? Or is there a place in the world where you put lettuce on your hot dog?

Sorry, bro has just informed of his favorite hot dog order, which is absolutely terrible so I will share it with you: a Five Guys hot dog with ketchup, mustard, pickle relish, onions, mushrooms, pickled peppers, and you guessed it--topped with freakin lettuce.

My own kin. How am I over 30 and just finding out that my baby brother thinks it’s normal to walk into a restaurant with normal god-fearing law-abiding people and order lettuce and mushrooms on a hot dog?

I have fully failed him.

The rest of this episode is watching both Joey Wheeler and Mokuba have a shared panic attack while Seto does freakin nothing.

Please remember that Seto has both a jetpack and a dragon wife plane and could have easily solved this problem. But nah.

Then again, Seto Kaiba has given this crew so MANY rides, that maybe he’s tired of being the Soccer Mom for the team?

Like they don’t actually say this episode, but Seto was the one in charge of like...this entire place, do you think he made the 2 for 1 special just to get Joey where it hurts the most? Or does it actually not take any subterfuge to screw Joey Wheeler because he’s just naturally this way?

Like Mokuba wasn’t there when Joey was told “stay right here, and then we will all go together to fight Dartz” and Joey was like “I’mma save Mai from herself although she told me not to!” and then he Hella Died. But, Mokuba did see the result, AKA, Joey’s dead body being carried on the back of Tristan. Maybe Mokuba never realized that Joey died because he went out of his way to be late?

Lets do a tally of every time I can recall with my dodgy memory that Joey was threatened to be DQ’d/pretty much was DQ’d either by his own fault or no fault of his own

-When he wasn’t allowed to go on the boat to Murder Island because he was a stupid nobody kid who did not have a dueling glove

-When he wasn’t actually supposed to be in Pegasus’ tourney and was, in fact, secretly using half of Yugi’s entrance ticket the entire time

-when Bandit Keith stole the ticket that Joey got from Yugi so then Joey had to borrow Mai’s ticket although she had just used it so it really shouldn't have counted. Because, really anyone could have just piggy backed off of each other’s ticket until the whole boat went through that castle.

-When his account was hacked to get entered into Kaiba’s tourney when Kaiba very clearly told him he could not apply solely because he was Joey Wheeler.

-When he was late to his sister’s eye surgery because he got mugged by Marik’s Rare Hunters, so she almost refused to do the surgery.

-When Joey got possessed by Marik, and as Marik, threatened to murder everyone else in the tournament including both of the Kaiba brother’s who’s tournament it was, and then chained himself to Yugi Muto to throw both of them to the bottom of the ocean.

-I think there was a point when he threatened to attack Kaiba in Kaiba’s own tourney while not possessed? Like several times?

-when he got struck by Lightning and almost did not stand up fast enough after being struck by lightning, which is apparently a type of DQ in Duel Monsters.

-When he tried to save Mai from getting hit by a fireball, but then Yugi did it instead, and then so many people were standing on the dueling platform that Kaiba couldn’t possibly DQ them all.

-When he entered the restricted area of the blimp in order to hassle Kaiba into landing the Blimp, which Kaiba did not do.

-When Marik killed Joey before Joey could press the “go” button on his duel disk to play the card that should have won Joey the match.

-When he was dueling a lawyer in a digital universe but then the dice was like...weighted? So Noah had to walk over and be like “The hell is this weighted dice? This is my perfect digital world? How did you even do that?” and then Joey won because the match was no longer legit.

-When Joey yelled at Noah too much and so Noah turned Joey to stone for being a rude ass spectator

-When Mai was like “Wheeler and Valon, listen closely: do NOT murder each other” and then Joey did a murder on Valon so she was like “I guess I have no choice, I was very clear” and killed Joey straight up.

-When Joey decided to block Seto’s fireballs while Joey Wheeler WAS a playing card, somehow disrespecting both Dartz and Seto Kaiba at the same time.

-When Joey was playing cards but then got absorbed into a giant Leviathan and basically couldn’t play anymore after that.

-There’s probably hell ton of S0 stuff I just haven’t seen yet.

-This episode

And Joey runs fast for a montage of wacky things that really have no business being in a theme park. Things like this:

(remember when Bakura almost died from a rock that ended up being a balloon? It comes full circle.)

The stuff that the Kaiba brother’s think is normal and fun.

Anyway Joey fights off a bunch of hologram snakes and bats and everyone is like “Should we tell him it’s just holograms???” And it’s like wow, guys, how many times have these ‘holograms’ straight up murdered Joey Wheeler and everyone else on this cast? Too many? Because I have a google doc with so many deaths on it. 7,805,844,048, to be exact.

Anyway, he gets there with five seconds to spare and Mokuba’s like “well at least you were still entertaining while we filmed you in front of a live audience being a total spaz for 15 minutes straight, so I’ll let you go.”

Grandpa and Joey start playing, Joey completely oblivious that this is just an older Muto, while Hawkins walks up awkwardly and is like “hey guys. I’m so sorry about this.”

(welcome to my font choices, for those new here, I have to make weird font color choices to make sure it’s legible for the colorblind and also for the non-colorblind. This one is not much contrast, so I may change it up in the future, but for now, this is Grandpa Muto’s new font. I apologize to every graphic designer reading this. Please don’t tell anyone who has ever hired me for graphic design about this blog.)

What’s funny about this exchange is that after they find out that Yugi’s Grandpa is Apdnarg (HOLY my brain cannot get around the spelling for that, and I will not change it in the caps. I cannot do a ‘pdn’ ever again), they don’t stand on his side of the field or anything. Hawkins is legit Solomon Muto’s only fan during this exchange and like...damn. Way not to back your Grandpa, Yugi.

Yugi immediately strides up to Mokuba to non-confrontation-ally inform him that he has stepped over a line and Mokuba is like “what are these things you say called ‘lines?’”

According to Mokuba, Solomon Muto begged him to be in the competition so he could relive his glory days (glory days making no sense here, because the game has only been released for the past 15 years, so glory days is like...the before times that can only be referring to disgraced archeologists and Pegasus ((who is, in his own way...a disgraced archeologist, too))) and Mokuba was like

“You trained Yugi Muto, right? Hey that’s good enough for me. This drama is gold. People will eat it up. Hell yes. Don’t be afraid to abduct him a little bit. Maybe trap a couple people in a digital hellscape for a little while? Now we go by Pegasus house rules here, so fire as many lasers as you want, but just make sure not to hit anyone in the face. Oh man, we are going to be swimming in cash. Love it, Muto Sr, love it.”

But I dunno, I feel like Grandpa won’t make it past next episode. It is Joey. We kinda need him to make it past Ep 4 of the arc. If Grandpa Muto becomes the new Joey Wheeler, that will be a weird transition for this show to make.

But that’s all for today, as always, here is the link to read these in chrono order becuase there’s SO MANY that you don’t need to read backwards--don’t do it--just use the chrono tag (and I don’t know if you can add compound tags, but I did separate the Season from the Episode, so if you write S4, it should only pop up stuff from S4. I didn't’ do that to seasons 1-3 though because I just...didn’t.)

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

And because I brought it up: here it is, the best BTS Mashup that I found on my deep dive. Like legit--this one isn’t a mess:

youtube

Most of other ones are horrible in a fascinating way. Like I’m not even a BTS fan, I think I sort of age out of that metric, I’m just bored and quarantined. And lets be real, we all appreciate a good bop when we hear it.

#yugioh #ygo #yu gi oh #photo recap #recap #episode recap #yugi muto #seto kaiba #mokuba kaiba #Joey Wheeler #Apdnarg #Grandpa muto #tea gardner #tristan taylor #professor hawkins #and then I ranted about BTS #but please don't quiz me about BTS I know nothing about them aside from the music #I actually thought there were over 12 of them because every time I see them perform it feels like an entire stageplay production of people #like a 101 dalmations situation where every time I saw BTS there were 3 new people #I assumed it was like the Gorrilaz where people just show up and then disappear in a rotation #but no. There's 7 BTS members #that can't be right #there has to be more than 7 #is this a berenstein bears situation?#how is there only 7?#I swear there used to be like 16 #and they would be introduced like here's jimin and Jungkook and red and yellow and green and brown and scarlet and black and ochre and pea #like is google seriously telling me there's only 7 kids in this band?#this is the biggest scam google has ever played on me #this weird alternate timeline that not only has an epidemic but also only 7 members of BTS

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ieattaperecorders · 4 years ago

Text

Notes on Causality - Chapter 2: Georgie and Elias

An addendum to Something's Different About You Lately. Small scenes of Jon attempting to change the future that I didn't want to put in the larger fanfic.

The events of this chapter take place around the end of Chapter 8, Stranger.

(Incidentally, the main fic will be updated very soon. I'm mainly just holding off till the finale drops, in case whatever happens makes me want to tweak anything mood-wise in what I have planned.)

Read on Ao3

- - -

One ring. Another. Then another. Maybe she wouldn't pick up, Jon thought, drumming his fingers on the desk. Maybe it would go to voicemail . . . he could hang up, try again later. Take a little time to mentally rehearse what he would say.

A click, and her voice asked, "hello?"

"Georgie . . . it's Jon Sims, from Oxford?"

"Jon? Hey, been a while! How've you been?"

"Ah – good? I've been good," he lied. "Yourself?"

"Oh, not bad. Got a new roommate since you last saw me . . . he lays around the apartment all day and won't share the rent, but he's cute so I let it slide."

"Good to hear that your landlord is cat-friendly."

"You should hear him, he has the loudest little meow. Hang on, I'll if he'll say hello . . . ."

For a moment and he heard some vague coaxing noises, distant as if she was holding her phone away from herself. They were followed by a close-up, disinterested sniff, then Georgie's voice returned.

"Ah, never mind. Not in the mood, I guess."

"I've heard the Admiral's color commentary before," he smiled. "He's in all your mailbag episodes."

"Didn't know you were a listener."

"Well, I need something for the commute . . . it might as well be the UK's most onomatopoeic source of paranormal research."

"Ha. Knew you'd hate the sound effects."

"I don't hate them. Anyway, they're . . . distinctive," he leaned back in his office chair, the nerves he'd built up slowly dissipating as they fell into the rhythm of conversation. "They're very you."

"Classic Barker." There was movement in the background, and a few soft thuds. Likely the Admiral jumping to the floor. "Well from what I hear, we're in the same field. Aren't you working for the Magnus Institute now? You must hear plenty of ghost stories there."

"That's actually sort of why I called. I think we might have a mutual colleague . . . Melanie King?"

"Yeah, she's the one who told me you were there," she said knowingly. "Sounded like you left a hell of an impression on her."

". . . Not a good one, I imagine."

Georgie made a non-committal sound, being decent enough not to rub it in by overtly agreeing with him.

"I was trying to be helpful, but I think I just came off as dismissive. Ended up arguing with her over nothing," he sighed. ". . . Classic Sims."

"Accept no substitutes," Georgie said fondly. "So, what's the call about? If you want me to try smoothing things over with her –"

"It isn't that. Did she tell you about her experience?"

"Not really. Asked a lot about Sarah – she's a sound tech I recommended to her? Got the impression she'd been unreliable. She was nice about it, Melanie that is, but really evasive. I just assumed she's caught onto something interesting and wants to be the first to report on it. The risks of being friends with competition, I suppose."

"Ah. . . ."

"Not that she has anything to worry about. Climbing fences and squatting in abandoned churches is her thing. I'm all about doing research from my computer desk with a cup of tea, personally," she paused, and he heard a distant clink of ceramic. "Hey, are we even allowed to talk about this? Isn't there some sort of confidentially thing?"

"As it turns out, privacy isn't really something this place values," he muttered, "I don't suppose she's talked to you recently?"

"No . . . not for a couple of months."

"I'm concerned. Her experience left a powerful impact on her. Now she's chasing after anything that might bring her closer to what she encountered, and I'm afraid she doesn't care about the cost. She's going into some dangerous territory. And, well . . . it's not my place to judge her emotional state. But I am worried."

"Yeah . . . I saw the memes," he heard a frown enter Georgie's voice.

"I've tried to talk to her about it, a bit. But she and I always seem to push each other's buttons somehow. I'd be grateful if you looked in on her. I think that she could use a friend right now, and –" he smirked. "I happen to know you're good with obsessive types too stubborn for their own well-being."

"Ha. You trying to set me up or something?"

"Wh–" he started, taken aback. "I mean, well, that's really your business, not mine."

". . . Wait. I was joking, but are you really?" There was utter incredulity in her voice. "Jonathan Sims, did you call me out of the blue to set me up with someone I knew before you did?"

"Of – Georgie I don't even know if you're single, don't be ridiculous," he sputtered, feeling blood rise to his face. She laughed, and the uncomfortable heat spread.

"Okay, okay," she said. "I'm just giving you a hard time."

"I just . . . " he spoke slowly, trying to be precise. "I think that Melanie needs someone else around her right now. Someone grounding. If you're not looking to take that on, I understand, of course. But for whatever it might be worth, I would be grateful if you checked in."

"I'll give her a ring," something in Georgie's voice was familiar, and profoundly comforting. "See if she wants to get coffee and talk spooky-shop."

"I think that might do her a world of good," he said with relief

"Also? We should get coffee sometime too, catch up! I want to hear all the creepy stories you're apparently so free to talk about."

"Really, it's mostly drug experiences and conspiracy theories . . . ."

"Even better, I'll get to hear you complain. Then I'll be entitled gripe to you about all the weird emails I get. It'll be perfect."

Jon wanted to say yes. He really, really did. The thought of sitting down for a few hours with Georgie and talking about nothing particularly dire was a nice one. But he could only bring trouble to her door.

"I'd . . . like that," he said, "But I don't have much time to myself right now . . . maybe after everything calms down."

". . . Sure," she sounded a little disappointed. Georgie could always tell when he was brushing her off. "Some other time. Hope you can get some rest, then."

"I'll do my best."

"And thanks for the heads-up about Melanie. Really," the smile in her voice was back. "Don't be a stranger, huh?"

"Right," he smiled back, hoping she could hear it. "Ah. Goodbye, then."

"Bye."

He stared at the screen of his phone, not sure what to name the feeling in his chest. In his mind's eye, he saw her form vanishing down a long white corridor, and he knew she would have made this choice herself, eventually. He was just respecting that. Speeding things along.

"Trying to set her up . . . honestly," he muttered.

What he'd said about Melanie needing someone to talk to had been true. He was hoping Georgie's influence could nudge her away from the path she was on, one that had its natural end in blood and pain and the drumming of war. It was hardly his fault if he knew that particular matchmaking arrangement had already worked out once.

The call had barely ended for a minute before his phone vibrated with an email notification. He opened it, frowning when he saw who it was from.

Jon,

See me in my office at your earliest convenience.

Also, in the future please remember not to make personal calls during work hours.

- Elias

It was the most direct contact he'd had with Elias in months. Aside from a few institute-wide emails, there had been nothing since their conversation about the recordings. Jon hadn't even run into him in the hall. At least on the surface, he'd stuck to his promise to involve himself less directly. Not that Jon imagined Elias was truly keeping his distance, but he had begun to get comfortable with not having to see or talk to him. He dreaded the idea of going up there and actually breaking the silence.

That comment about personal calls irked him, too. He was taunting him. Going right up to the edge of admitting he'd been watching while giving himself just a little deniability.

He could ignore it, of course. Why should he do anything Elias asked him to, however small? Why should he make any part of his life easier? But that wasn't a smart attitude, he knew. Elias was keeping his distance for now, but if he saw Jon as too troublesome things would escalate. It would be foolish to bring that moment any closer by antagonizing him over nothing.

Jon still remembered the comment he'd made when they last spoke – I'm sure one of your assistants would be up to the task. If it came down to it, Elias knew exactly whose throats to hold the knife against.

With a distinct lack of pleasure, he climbed the stairs out of the archive.

Despite his mood he smiled at Rosie, tried to seem friendly as he greeted her. The words insecure and aggressive had a tendency to turn over in his mind when he saw her lately. He was earnestly hoping to be easier to talk to, but fairly sure he just came off as awkward. At least she was friendly with him. But then, she'd always been.

She said he was expected and should go right inside.

Elias was at his desk, writing on something hidden inside a folder. He glanced up and nodded as he entered.

"Ah, Jon. Sit down, I'll just be a moment."

As he took a seat and waited, Jon couldn't quite banish the idea that the folder was just a prop. A way to make whoever he'd called in wait, to make it absolutely clear how much more valuable his time was than theirs. Or perhaps to give them time to stew, to sit in anxiety and worry. Then again, maybe Elias really did have paperwork that needed doing, and the fact that it was absolutely, positively maddening to sit there in silence and watch him was only a bonus to it all. Eventually, he finished.

"It's been a while since we've checked in, hasn't it?" he paused just long enough for Jon to wonder if he was supposed to respond, then continued. "I'd like to hear your version of how the last few months have gone. What sort of progress you feel you've made, etcetera."

Oh, God. Was he actually expecting Jon to keep up the pretense of doing actual archival work? He hadn't been prepared for that at all, and felt preemptively exhausted at the thought of coming up with some nonsense progress report.

"Well. . . as you know, Gertrude left the archives in a state of serious disorganization, so progress has been hindered by that," he tried to remember what projects he'd put the others on to keep them all going with a token show of work. "I've set aside a section for discredited statements, which has been steadily growing. I imagine . . . it will make things more efficient for researchers in the future? And, uh . . . ."

"Let me stop you there," Elias said, holding up a hand.

Please do, Jon thought, relieved he wouldn't be subjecting them both to several minutes of this. Elias leaned forward and looked at him seriously.

"Have I done something to offend you, Jon?"

The question took him by surprise, to the point where he had to bite back a sarcastic laugh. What hadn't he done? "I'm not sure what you mean."

"Really. Because it seems to me that I've be extremely generous to you," that familiar tone of disapproval, of bland impatience. "I've given you a unique opportunity, allowed you free reign in setting your own priorities, and you still seem determined to resent me."

Fleetingly, Jon wondered if the elaborately decorated letter opener on the desk between them was sturdy enough to sink into Elias's chest without snapping. Not worth it, either way. Not with what it would cost.

"I . . . apologize if I've created that impression," he said evenly. "I've been told that I can be standoffish in my manner."

"Why does that not surprise me?" Elias smirked. "Though ‘standoffish' is a great deal more polite than the words people actually favor. Isn't it?"

Jon tried not to look away, tried and failed to meet Elias's eyes. Perhaps his inability to maintain eye contact with a conduit of the Beholding spoke well for his remaining humanity, but it still twisted in him. Made him feel weak.

"Are we done here?" he asked, voice tight.

Elias sighed, as if all of this was such a burden to him, as if he wasn't basking in the anxiety that Jon knew must be radiating off of him like heat.

"What was it you said to Martin . . . about discarding the facade once it stopped being useful?" That startled Jon enough to look back, to see the condescending smile on Elias's face as he continued. "Maybe you ought to do the same."

He stared, suddenly voiceless, heart pounding. This was it . . . should he be relieved or terrified?

"I've been where you are now, Jon." Elias continued. His voice was stern, with only the barest concession to false sympathy. "Trapped in a world that no longer makes sense, surrounded by malevolent forces, seeing enemies everywhere. And I can tell you that the only way to survive in this world is to recognize what resources you have."

". . . Resources."

"Yes, if you could just get past this irrational distrust you seem to have of me. I can't hold your hand through everything. But if you have questions . . . I might be able to give you some answers."

Answers? That would make a change from before, Jon thought bitterly. The Elias he remembered used misdirection, contempt and sometimes flat refusal to avoid giving Jon any information he could hope to use. Unfortunately there was only one question Jon really had for him anymore, and it was one he couldn't ask: how much do you know?

. . . Did Elias have that same question for him? It would explain why he was directly inviting him to ask about his situation.

Jon paused. He had to be smart about this. If Elias had sat him down like this before, he'd have wanted to know everything. If he didn't seem curious, it might point to how much he already knew, and that would be disastrous. But he also couldn't look too naive . . . he'd made his suspicion clear, already warned the others, he couldn't pretend to know nothing about the Institute's nature.

He tried to think back to when he was only just getting a sense of the way things truly were. What would he have most wanted to understand then?

". . . What happens to me," he asked quietly. "When I read statements? The real ones. You know what I mean. I can feel something happening, I know it's not just reading."

"The answer to that is rather complicated . . . ."

"Are you going to give it to me?"

"It would help if I understood what you already knew. How much did Gertrude tell you about the nature of this place? The Institute?"

"Enough to know I can't trust it," he glared across the desk. "And maybe the reason I don't trust you is because you're constantly peering over my shoulder."

"You must have some sense by now of the dangers the Institute attracts," Elias raised his eyebrows. "Can you really blame me for wanting to keep tabs on everything?"

"Because you ‘keeping tabs' was so helpful when I was pulled into those hallways for weeks."

"You opened the door of your own free will. I do what I can but I can hardly be expected to protect you from yourself."

"You're the reason I'm here in the first place! You've been--"

Jon cut himself off, he could feel himself beginning to shout, losing control of himself and it was stupid, so stupid. What was the point in arguing with him? Jonah Magnus knew exactly what he was doing, he wasn't going to be shamed about it.

"It doesn't matter," he said, trying to gather himself back to a neutral tone. "Can't change the past."

". . . For what it's worth, Jon, I do sympathize," Elias said, folding his hands. "Someone has to be the Archivist. You were just the best option available."

Why had he thought he could play along with this? As if he'd really be able to sit there, feign ignorance and draw information out of a man who'd been doing that exact thing to others for centuries. He wasn't going to beat him at his own game . . . far more likely he'd let something slip out of anger that would get somebody killed.

He pushed his chair back and stood, turning towards the door.

"I'll find my own answers," he said.

* * *

The door slammed shut, loud enough to echo. Jonah supposed he was going to have to get used to outbursts like these.

"I expect that you will," he muttered to the closed door.

Blind spots. He didn't like blind spots. Sometimes they were unavoidable, but having one so near to him was profoundly irritating. It was like knowing he'd forgotten something important, but being unable to dredge up any details.

He could watch Jon as easily as anyone else. Though there were moments his gaze would unfocus, and he suspected Gertrude might have taught him a few of her tricks, overall it wasn't hard to keep an eye on him. But lately, that was all he could do. No matter how he tried, he couldn't Know anything deeper than what appeared on the surface. He might as well have been following the Archivist around with a camera crew rather than channeling the overwhelming power of an Eternal and Unblinking Gaze From Which No Secrets Can Be Kept, for all the good it was doing him.

It was as if the knowledge was all there, but had been shifted somehow. Nudged just outside his field of vision.

A part of him was tempted to start over with another Archivist, one he could See more clearly. But the Web mark was hard to find, and he couldn't even be sure this anomaly was unique to Jon – that it would go away with his death instead of attaching itself to his successor. Despite its frustrating obscurity, something about it that felt like an aspect of the Beholding, though he couldn't say why.

So he'd tolerate the blind spot for now. At least Jon was easy enough to read without the Eye's assistance – the man wore his heart on his sleeve, was helpless in that way. Jonah liked that about him.

What he needed was encouragement. Something to get him out of his comfort zone – four marks was progress, but not fast enough, not with the Unknowing looming closer every day. Jonah wrote a quick note on a post-it and stuck it to the folder in front of him, then pressed a button on his intercom.

"Rosie?" he said, "I need you to run something down to the archive for me. Just drop it on Tim's desk, he'll know what it's for."

#tma fanfic #tma time travel au #sdayl

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spookysmujer · 5 years ago

Text

This I Promise You, O.Diaz

Prompt: The hardships of dating the leader of The Santos start to disappate. Oscar and Y/N reach the endgame.

warnings: tough love, fluff, happiness achieved 🥺

word count: 1.9k

A/N: I can’t say thank you enough for all the love shown to my few pieces of work I have posted. It’s truly so heartwarming to know you all are enjoying it. Here is my rendition of Spooky getting his happy ending! I guess you can sat this is boujee version of Nirvana! I love to read the post-Santos!Oscar so much ❤️ Stay tuned for PART 2 of His Girl, a Sad Eyes fic!

“Cesar, I’m going with you.”

His back to you and silence. And it’s eating away at you. Everything that has happened since Oscar’s alleged meeting with 19th street and Cuchillos has you walking on eggshells.

You weren’t suppose to know it about it though. Oscar had been very strict on keeping you at bay with anything gang related. There were some instances when you either figured it out or threatened it out of it Cesar and his friends. Just as you did this time. Cesar dropped the bomb on why you hadn’t seen Oscar in the last 3 days.

“You know I can’t let you. I-“ He says as he turns to look at you but the look on your face has so much emotion he can’t tell what he’s reading. Fear, pain, rage? Cesar looks away for a moment before stepping closer to you. “You need to stay here. I will handle it and find him. We can’t risk your life. On the chance I find my brother alive, I need you to be as well. Please.”

You finally let your guard drop. You strip any tough girl persona and let your shoulders slump and allow the flood of complete fear take over you. Oscar taught you to never let that happen, in front of friend or foe. Once someone can figure out how to get you there, they have control over you. Which is why you and Oscar rarely were sappy in love kind of people, you showed your emotions with each other subtlety. If you’re being honest that was the hardest part in the beginning of your relationship. You were a hopeless romantic who loved affection, the cliche dates and even PDA. But you learned that not everyone liked the same thing and found middle ground with the tough to love cholo.

After he and his friends figured out their next more, you sit in the motel room and daydream of a life outside of the Santos and away from Freeridge. What would would it be like? Where would you two go? What would a normal life of a person with two strikes be like? Could you two make it? But you stop thinking of all of possibilities when you remind yourself that Oscar might not even be alive. The door to the motel room opens and you stand quickly, your hand on the glock that rests the back of your waistband.

Sad Eyes steps in and closes the door behind him, a brown bag in hand, “Thought you should eat.”

You smile and push the glock back in, thanking him. He sits near you and hands you a burger. It’s silent for a moment before he speaks up.

“He’ll be alright. He always is.”

You can only nod in hope that he is right. There have been many runs that Oscar made that were dangerous but he never dealt with a high power like this before. Cuchillos has the power to snap her fingers and have heads rolling. She has an army and Oscar had planned to approach her own his own term. And here you are. Stuck and it sucks.

Sad eyes watches you as your emotions run wildly, he rubs your back in comfort and tells you to remain hopeful.

The day had gone by painstakingly slow as you wait to hear back from Cesar. You should have pushed harder to go with him, to ensure that HE would be okay as well. Who knows what he and his friends had stepped into. You quickly shake the thought from your head as you close in for the night. A chime from your phone gets your attention and you rush over to get it, it’s a text from Ruby’s abuelita. Strange. When you open it, your heart drops into your stomach.

He’s here, Mija. Banged up, but just fine.

All the built up worry physically leaves your body. And the tears begin to spill over. You didn’t suck it up because for the first time you feel like hope again. Oscar did it. He handled the business, he actually did it.

You head out to Ruby’s place, the house is dark but you figure it’s a ruse to avoid any prying eyes. Who knows what happens now with Cuchillos out. No democratic hold within the streets once the word gets out.

The night is eerily quiet as you trek to the back of the house. You enter slowly, Abuelita and Oscar look up to you. She pats his shoulder gently and leaves the room. You mouth a thank you to her approaching the mangled man.

You grab the nearby trash bin and start to clean the bloody gauzes that shroud the table. He sits in silence taking sips of the tequila bottle. It’s quiet for a while as you move around him to rid the house of the evidence he was here.

“Y/N,” Oscar says but you hold a finger up to him to silence him. Now that the worry has subsided, the anger has built up again. The rage of being uninformed, the fury of thinking he was dead with no real goodbye. “You know I couldn’t tell you.”

“No, you could have. You chose not to. You chose to leave me wondering if the next time I were to see you is drinking coffee at your place or in a grave. This time should have been a goddamn acceptance to your rule of keeping me out of it.”

His lips pressed in a thin line, his signature look with furrowed eyebrows, “And what? Have you involved and in the way?”

You step back and look at him, withholding yourself from yelling given the location. He takes another drink and holds back the discomfort in his face. “Cuchillos would have had you killed if you were in anyway involved with my shit. You know that.”

“You want to know what I know? This gang shit has been and will always be your undoing. Whether it’s bringing down enemies or making a drop for 10k. You think you can escape it with that mindset? You can’t protect everyone! And like your compas who have you back, like your brother and his friends who get involved? They risk their lives for you, just as I would. I would do it, no question. This time was different, this time you were stepping into a cage with a lioness and unarmed with no actual plan to take it down.”

“But I did.”

“And at what cost? The streets will be unhinged, the word gets out that the head of the Santos is out and you were the one that did it? It’s you with the step up or you get taken out for the spot.” You stand in front of him, for the first time he is looking up at you.

“I’m gonna make sure the streets are handled but I won’t be the one handling them. Once everything is settled, I’m out. I’m done. That was the point of this, of everything. No more control and order over me or anyone I care about.” He stands, wincing to himself to pull on his mangled tank.

You clench your fist for a moment before releasing it. He believes that things will work out and like most times you follow him, you allow the thought to ponder in your mind.

“I’ve lost people. Just like you. My dad, my brothers. Drive by, robbery,” You close your eyes for a brief moment,” and losing them to this lifestyle wrecked me for many years. It still does but the thought of it taking you? For some reason it hurts more. I was scared, Oscar. Me! Scared even after you taught me not to be. Because regardless of how fed up I get with your shit, I couldn’t stand the thought not waking up everyday to hear the compas run things by you or.. I’m locked in. You’ve got a damn hold on me and I don’t want out. Ever.”

Oscar lets his shoulders fall as he step to you and lets you wrap his arms around him. You carefully embrace and feel all the grooves of his body click with yours. His hand pulls your hair to fall down your back, he kisses the top of your head.

“We’ll get out. And I won’t need to hide anything from you anymore. We won’t have to look over our shoulders or even have raincheck on those stupid movie and dinner shit that you like. Okay? You and me. We’re getting out.” You look up to him and he kisses you passionately.

———two years later ———

“I asked you to not leave your pants laying on the floor! The hamper is right there.” You call out, using your foot to hike it up in the air catching it with your free hand. Laundry day, you would lie if you say that you totally hate it. But Oscar doesn’t help by leaving his clothes around.

You rest a basket of clothes on your hip and head out of the bathroom, “Did you hear me, mi amor?”

“3 works, thanks.” Oscar turns with a big smile on his face and mouths an apologize to you as he holds the house phone between his ear and shoulder.

“I’m sorry, the carne asada had me going. Let me,” He pulls the basket from you and leans forward for a kiss. You smile and press a lovingly kiss to his lips.

His curly, grown out hair looks wildly good on him. Even the grown out facial hair. He no longer sports the Spooky look, he is Oscar Diaz now. A proud homeowner in the outskirts of LA.

And you his fiancé, soon to be wife who could go to bed and expect him to be next you when you woke almost every morning. He tells you where is going all the time now and has relinquished his machismo. The actual Oscar has stepped in.

“Make sure it’s on extra rinse!” You call out as you huff and take a seat at the kitchen table. You can smell the meatloaf in the oven and boy does it smell heavenly. Well mostly anything he cooked had your knees weak.

It could also be the added fact that you are 7 months pregnant and have the urge to eat everything. Even things you didn’t like before getting knocked up. You rest your hand ontop of your bump and rub it contently.

Tears start to well up and you let them fall when Oscar rejoins you, he stops and looks to you. “¿Que? What’s the matter?”

You shake your head, “Nothing, nothings wrong. I’m happy. I’m just so happy.”

“I love you.I can’t wait to meet mi princesa. She’ll be beautiful like her mama. Smart like her papa. And won’t ever have to know life like we use to, this I promise you.” He rests his forehead to yours as he kneels in between your legs and hold you.

“And I love you.”

Every little missed opportunity in life has presented itself again. Neither of you let any of it slip away, not anymore. You express your love for one another every single day and soon that love will be here in the form a precious blessing.

#oscar diaz #oscar diaz imagine #oscar diaz x y/n #spooky diaz #spooky x reader #on my block imagine #on my block #cesar diaz #lil spooky #spookysmujer

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youllneverknowrac · 5 years ago

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Oscar Diaz-Momma Bear Pt.2

For @princesshenney

“Please don’t go out too far!” You yell from where you laid in a plastic lounge chair, under the large umbrella Oscar set up for you, your four month old Alexander asleep on your chest. The four eldest Diaz men/boys all shouting back in understanding as they race towards the water.

“I stay here.” Your almost three year old Angel says, sitting a few feet away from you in a small and round blow up kiddie pool that was barley filled up with ocean water, a few toys floating around him,”Right mommy?”

“Right. You stay with mommy and little brother.” You smile, taking turns glancing in between him and Oscar with the boys. You lay Alex down on the chair next to you, on top of a extra towel so you can sit up and stretch your limbs out. Being cut short when a slightly wet Angel climbs into your lap with his hair tie in hand.

“It fall out.” He points to his head, causing you to giggle as you take it from him and tie his curly hair back out of his face,”Tank you.” He says and stands up in between your legs, his small hands crushing your cheeks together before giving you a small kiss on your lips,”I go play now.” He tells you, jumping down into the sand and hopping back into the pool.

You smile at him and look over at a now awake Alexander who was busy trying to put his whole fist in his mouth, looking absolutely adorable in his full body swimsuit. He was the only Diaz baby that did not look like the rest of his brothers. Where as they all looked like mini versions of Oscar, Alexander had your features and was not born with a full head of curly hair. You couldn’t help but be a bit more overjoyed when he was born, because after four previous births you finally had a twin of your own. Oscar not being able to make the joke that he made the kids by himself anymore,”What are you doing?” You ask him in a silly baby voice as you pick him up and cradle him in your arms,”Get that hand out of your mouth, you get it out.” You tell him and gently pull it out for him, replacing it with a pacifier after digging for one in the diaper bag.

“Hey! No throw!” You hear Angel shout after a loud splash came from his pool, a football now in his hands as he tosses it out. A guy probably a few years younger than you running over, apologies spewing from his mouth.

“I’m so sorry little guy.” He says out of breath as he kneels down to pick up the ball, patting Angel’s hair apologetically.

“Please.” The toddler says and holds his hands up in defense,”Please no touch.”

His actions cause the both of you to laugh, apologizing again before he looks over at you. Taking in your navy blue bikini that was peeking out under your white mesh cover dress,”I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to almost hit your little brother.” He says and smiles, waving his fingers in front of Alex’s face,”He’s cute...sibling sort of day huh?” He asks sweetly, the glint in his eyes telling you that he knew damn well they weren’t your brothers. Just wanting a reason to chat you up.

“Not my siblings, but something tells me you already knew that.” You respond, pushing the sunglasses off of your face and to the top of your head in one motion,”Just be careful where you throw that thing, lot’s of kids around here. Just be glad you didn’t actually hit my son because then this conversation wouldn’t be so nice.”

“You’re so right and again I’m sorry for that.” He says and makes himself comfortable as he sits on the end of your lounge chair, blocking your view from the beach,”I’m going to put this away and never throw it again, bad football.”

You force a laugh and nod, not responding as Angel stands up and starts to point to the ocean,”It’s Car-car!(Carlos) I go play with him?” He asks before looking over at the man and doing the famous Oscar look of distaste.

“Okay, run straight to them.” You say when you peek over the guys shoulder, making out Carlos and Junior sitting on the sand. Oscar probably still in the water with Anthony.

“Okay mommy!” He yells before his little legs take off, not relaxing back against the lounge chair until you see him reach his older brothers.

“Oh you have more?” He says stunned, glancing over his shoulder.

“Mhm. Five boys, started really young.” You tell him nonchalantly, thinking back to how you were a scared and pregnant 15 year old. 18 years ago seeming more like a lifetime.

“Wow five?” He chokes,”You don’t look like you have five kids.”

“Um thanks? I guess.” Never knowing what to say when people tell you that, Alexander still sitting happily in your arms.

“I don’t mean no offense but I don’t see a man around...so maybe I can get your number. We can chill sometime or something.” He says, your fuse finally being cut short.

“Look, if it wasn’t obvious enough I’m not looking for anybody to chill with. I have five kids and not to mention a husband.” You snap, unknown to you that Angel went and told his brothers about the strange man,”So if you could please get off my chair and leave me alone that would be amazing.”

“Husband? I don’t see a ring and if that’s the case why even let the conversation go this far.” He smirks and reaches out to place his hand on your lower leg.

“Don’t touch me when I’m holding my baby! Are you insane? What do you not get? Go away.” You gasp as you kick his hand away and stand up. Everything else after that happening quickly. One second the guy sitting there normally and the next he’s eating dirt as your oldest son Junior comes running up from behind and delivers a rough shove to his back.

“Aye cabrón (dumb ass), don’t ever touch my mom again.” He says, kicking his foot out to drench the man in more dirt.

“Oh my god Junior, no.” You say and come around to stand next to him as the guy gets up and wipes his face clean.

“What the fuck is your problem? You little shit.” He snaps and before you can defend your son, Oscar shows up with the rest of the kids in tow. Anthony holding both his little brother’s hands as they stand behind Junior now. Your husband wasting no time in asking questions and getting in between them, invading the guys personal space.

“Aye, you talking to my son? This boy right here?” Oscar asks him in a dangerous tone as he lowers his body to be eye level with him, their noses barley missing each other. Not seeing this side of him in a long time...his Spooky side. Something he left behind when you guys moved out of the streets of Freeridge, when you became pregnant with Anthony.

“I am and what? Did you not see your son just assault me?” The guys says, taking a step back. Oscar taking a step forward with no fear in his eyes.

“Nah, I don’t think I did.” He lies, him and the guy going back and forth now. The tension only growing worse.

“Take him.” You say urgently and hand the baby over to Junior, instantly grabbing a hold of Oscar’s arm. Carlos and Anthony beginning to shout in favor of their dad, Angel joining in confusingly but not caring as he copied them.

“Stop and sit down, right now!” You tell them, their mouths closing instantly as they sit down crossed legged in the sand.

“Fuck that! He grabbed you mom.” Junior says in protest as he lays his little brother down where you had him previously,”I seen him.”

“You touched our mom?!” Anthony and Carlos say angrily.

Oscar cocks his head to the side at this information, not knowing that this was the reason behind Junior’s push,”You touched my wife? I oughta kill you.” He tells him, not raising his voice so the younger kids couldn’t hear. Oscar kicking his leg under the guy’s, causing him to fall to the ground once more.

The man, who’s name you still don’t know, gulps slightly and takes a look at a certain tattoo on Oscar’s face,”Woah man, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean no harm. Please, just let me walk away right now. I’ll go, you win.” He scrambles as he tries to get back up.

Oscar chuckles darkly, his thumb and pointer finger wiping his nose as he stands back to his normal height,”First apologize to my wife for touching her, then apologize to my boy for disrespecting him, then go apologize to my kids for making their daddy get upset. Then you can go.” Oscar demands, the guy nodding quickly as he mumbles an apology to everybody in that order. Leaving his football on the ground as he sprints away.

“Are you two crazy? You can’t gang up on somebody in public like that. That’s not how you handle things.” You lecture and take a deep breath before instantly pulling both of them into a hug, just relieved that nothing actually happened. The other boys joining as you feel your lower half being embraced as well.

“Are you okay mommy?” Carlos asks, his voice muffled since he had his face pressed into your leg.

“I’m fine baby, are you all okay?” You ask, looking over each one of your boys, not waiting their days to be ruined. They each give you a nod except for Angel who thought this would be the perfect time to give a PSA.

“No talk to stranger. Strangers is bad, daddy and us hurt strangers for mommy.” He says, causing everybody to bust out laughing, the atmosphere at a calm once again.

“Come on let’s head back out.” Junior offers to his brothers, figuring you would want to talk to Oscar alone. The boy’s all cheer in agreement, all of them walking together to the water once again. Leaving you with just your husband and the baby who was oblivious to anything that just happened.

“You’re not mad at me right?” Oscar asks as he grabs a hold of your waist,”I didn’t mean to get so mad, I just seen him snap on Junior and reacted. Then when I found out he grabbed you I said things I know I shouldn’t have. I just seen red, that’s it.”

“I’m not mad papi. I was just more scared, I didn’t want you or Junior to get in trouble because of me. And it didn’t help to have the kids cheering in the background like some sort of entourage.”

Oscar couldn’t help but laugh at that,”Yeah, they watch too much tv. I’ll talk to them later that it’s not okay to encourage a fight, no matter if I would have won anyway if it came down to it.” He adds smugly

“You sure about that? You’re not the same guy you were back in freeridge.” You tease and poke his soft belly,”You got a little dad bod going on now papi. I think I even see a gray hair.”

“Shut up.” Oscar laughs and pulls you firmly against him,”You love all of it.”

You smile and nod in agreement, standing up on your tippy toes to plant a kiss on his lips,”I do.” You mumble against them,”Now it’s your turn to sit with the baby so I can go into the water.”

“Fine.” Oscar says as he pulls away, sitting in your spot and grabbing Alexander, laying him in between his legs.

“Don’t let the sun hit him too much.” You remind him as you pull off the white cover up and toss it onto one of the many bags that you had packed.

“I know, I’ve only done this four other times.” Oscar chuckles causing you to playfully roll your eyes.

“Shhh.” You hush him, putting your glasses down as well before running off to join the rest of your so called cubs. No doubt in your mind that the same fire you had for protecting them, is the same one they had for you. This being proved true as they all went on defense mode when a guy even walked to close to you.

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krenbotvt · 4 years ago

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What The Fans Of (Almost) Every Scarecrow Design Are Like Just by Surveying Rogue Tumblr for Approx: 5 Months. (Not in any particular order. Also this is a meme.)

Year One: You probably needed a childhood to relate to/needed a justifiable reason to stan one of Gotham’s biggest criminals. (but if your childhood involves being half-eaten by crows i am VERY concerned) BTAS: The gateway drug Scarecrow. You’re probably a gremlin, and also really like the Dork Squad(tm) TNBA: He’s under-appreciated, and you know this very well, but you’re also thankful that you get some of the coolest artwork of your favorite spooky boy. (Also the voice. 11/10 you want him to read sleepy hollow to you.) TAOB: You are one of the only 3 living fans of Adventures Of Batman Scarecrow, but you give absolutely no shit. You love that uncanny valley, near on clown-like scarecrow, and i feel bad for you, because you’ll probably never get art of them. Super Friends: I...Wow. Y’all really do exist... Galactic Guardians: YOU GUYS ACTUALLY EXIST TOO??? BATB: JAZZY. You like his hat, and his voice. You also probably enjoy a lot of older scarecrow designs as well. You get sad because you wish there were more content. The Batman (TV series): PFFT HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA (But seriously though, you poor, poor things...There, There...) Assault On Arkham: AA Scarecrow in an otherwise good movie. Basically, you’re sad he didn’t get more screen-time. At this point, just stan: Arkham Asylum: ABSOLUTE GOBLIN OF A HUMAN. One of the gateway drug Scarecrows that lead you to The Rogues fanbase in the first place. You either love the serious artwork of him, love him drawn/written as a gremlin, or are STILL offended by his lack of footwear. Either way, you adore him and will remind everyone of it. Arkham Knight: OH FUCKING BOY. This can go one of two ways. 1.You love his writing (or don’t, but still stan), his poetic dialogue and his voice, and you also love how much he hams up the fear factor. You probably adore every artwork of him you see, and you REALLY love reading any fan-written material of him. You have many headcanons, and probably have googled A LOT of stuff to make them more genuine. Or 2. You are very, VERY horny... (But as a good friend once said, “these are not mutually exclusive.”) Nightwing And Robin: Aw, y’all are so cute! Here, have some tea with the SF AND GG Fans, I think they have Earl Grey over in the CORNER OF IRRELEVANCY. (But I feel bad for y’all too.) Unlimited: BEEF BOY. You’re either in the group of people that love Scarecrow designs that use scythes, or you like how strange, yet fun his appearance is. Most art of him is super colorful too. There aren’t very many of you, but the amount of you that I’ve seen seem like super cool people. You all probably also enjoy the next one: Batman/TMNT: You knew the movie was a wild ride from start to finish, but you love it. You probably also like birds (I know, really obvious.) There aren’t many of you, but you like the idea of a corvid-like Scarecrow, and you wish for more. Or...You may be a furry that also likes DC stuff, and that’s ok too! We too also oddly love that weird ass cobra joker anyways. Salecrow: You love his rhyming (which is arguably the best thing about him), but are also annoyed by the fact that most content of him use the same 3 images every time. You’re probably in the same boat as all the other scarecrow fans that genuinely want a proper medieval themed version of him. If you write/draw him, you’ve googled endless nursery rhymes. Its like Dr.Seuss up in this bitch. Also, them hands. Blackest Night: Chances are you’re still amazed that your favorite bag-headed master of fear even HAS that thing. You REALLY want him to wear that damn ring again, and will probably pay an arm and a leg to see it happen in a form of animated media. You also have very interesting artwork/writings of him. And your head canons are outlandish, but in the most fun way. (Seriously though, Hatter with a ring, huh...) Injustice: You either love the concept of The ScareBeast, or you’re here for the fact that hes voice by FREAKING ROBERT ENGLUND. Admittedly, you probably aren’t all too good at fighting games, but you still insta-lock him despite that. The Dark Knight: Cillian Murphy portrays the character rather well, but you either are unnerved by his strangely dreamboyish face, or would wish for a slightly older actor. But!!! Despite all that!!! You love him, and probably still quote “WaNnA sEe My MaSK???” (Although I see some of you get absolutely tired of that lol) I don’t see any loyal fans of him, but everyone seems to agree that he’s not too shabby (heheh... shabby...) Gotham (Tv Series): ...Hello? Where are you guys? I KNOW you exist! Show yourselves! Jokes aside, you either love him or hate him. Live action scarecrows seem to be a hit or miss for some. Harley Quinn (Tv Series): Softies. You adore everything about him. His dialogue, his humor, his very surprising accent, and his, albeit a stretch, questionable sexuality implications. Most art of him is very wholesome and good, probably because you’re STILL not over...Well... Maybe its better if I not mention it (all fans of him are the “If I see anything happen to them I’ll kill everyone in this room and then myself” meme.). Detective Comics: Hroo Hraa, my friends. Hroo Hraa. Whether it’s his “Queer grasshopper leaps” or his strange laughter onomatopoeia, you can’t get enough of his antics. Nothing beats a classic, and the fact that there are still many of you that are fans of him makes me smile. New 52/Prime Earth: One of the few scarecrows that greatly changes his childhood, but you welcome the idea of it. He’s a very unsettling looking guy, but you’ll remind everyone that his writing makes up for it. He’s mostly treated like a semi-C tier villain in the continuity, but every time you see him you’re like “!!!!!!!”.You most likely have a list of every issue he appears in so you don’t have to suffer, and your heart still breaks when you read the scene with him and that one girl. (He said he was sorry, guys.) Batman:Hush: 2 and a half sweet and savory minutes of this guy, only for him to get kicked in the face? Nay, Nay, you say! A crime, you holler! You go to your keyboard to tell your friend about how good his character design is, and how well animated he was, but alas they say “that’s nice, bud.” Blast it all... The Lego Batman Movie/Lego in general: Our boy at his most gremlin. Sure, you know this is a 99% children’s medium, but that doesn’t stop you from smiling like a dummy every time you see him. He’s funny, he’s delightful, and he has... a weird obsession with planes? What is it with them and putting him in planes? Maybe he got a pilot’s license before he attended university? What a smart little block person! Obviously, I left out quite a few here, but these seem to be the most popular. There are SO many comic renditions of him, so It’d take my forever. (My poor fingies already hurt!) But please enjoy this silly little thing :’]

#tube says something #scarecrow #jonathan crane #gotham rogues

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dokidokivisual · 4 years ago

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Gochiusa BLOOM episode 7 impressions

Previously: 6 - 5 - 4 - 3 - 2 - 1

In real world Halloween might have been a month ago, but in the world of Is The Order a Rabbit it’s exactly the season for all things spooky. And maybe things become a little too supernatural for a slice of life show. In the last episode we’ve seen how BLOOM symbolizes the growth of the characters. And as we enter the second half of the season, another meaning is revealed...

But first let’s visit Ama Usa An, where horror-loving Chiya is decorating the traditional Japanese teahouse for Halloween. Since Halloween is decidedly not a traditional Japanese holiday, it looks kinda surreal, but Chiya’s grandmother is more worried about souls of the dead coming back to life, especially that of Chino’s grandfather (see season 2 episode 9 for more of their backstory). Of course the soul of Chino’s grandfather isn’t actually dead, but is inhabiting the body of a rabbit. It’s not clear how exactly this happened and Cocoa might have been involved.

Speaking of Cocoa, we see her practicing with the magic set she bought in the first episode of the season. She tries to make something appear in her hand, but nothing happens. Clearly you can’t just learn to summon matter into existence in Gochiusa world, or can you? Anyway the shot focuses on a candy laying on a table before the opening sequence cuts in. This must be the object Cocoa has tried to summon and it’s also clearly a foreshadowing for something.

Meanwhile, Maya and Megu are trick-or-treating in matching werewolf(?) outfits hoping to score some free candy. Interestingly the tradition of giving out candy on Halloween has descended from a medieval practice of sharing so-called “soul cakes” which represented the souls of the dead.

Meanwhile the staff of Rabbit House are dressed as vampires. The theme of vampires fighting werewolves brings up to mind the Twilight series although I’m sure the idea came up many times throughout history. If you look closer, you’ll notice that Cocoa, Rize and Megu have fake fangs (I think Maya’s is natural), although they’re not consistently drawn between scenes, even though in the manga they’re drawn correctly. Maybe they’ll fix this in BD. The only one whose fang is not shown is Chino, and ironically she is the one who actually bites somebody.

Also the flashback of Chino “roaring” at the mirror reminded me of the scene from Celestial Method where Noel (also voiced by Minase Inori) roars at a dinosaur standee. To be fair it sounds completely different but I just can’t help but compare them.

Also while I was browsing through my copy of volume 6 I found a cute illustration card that seems to be relevant to this episode, but includes Mocha and Cocoa as the wolves and Chino as the vampire (here’s a highres version).

I think I bought this particular volume in Japan on the day it was released. Good times...

Next MaMe go to Fleur de Lapin and are greeted by Sharo dressed as Little Red Riding Hood (bunny version). This costume appeared earlier in an illustration for the rabbit chapter from the previous episode.

This is also a rare scene where other employees of Fleur de Lapin can be seen, as usually Sharo is shown working there alone. Even in the manga, Sharo is the only employee shown in this scene. In the end it turns out that Sharo is a wolf in disguise and craving for some meat. Which is weird because Sharo hasn’t been shown eating or cooking any meat before.

Anyway, next stop is Ama Usa An, which is called the Witch’s Mansion now. Chiya mentions the beginning of the Sabbath, and the manga chapter’s title 今宵は甘兎サバト also mentions the Sabbath. This might be confusing because in Judaism and Christianity the Sabbath is the day of rest and happens weekly (on Saturday or Sunday). However since we’re talking about witches, this actually references the Wiccan concept of sabbat, or one of eight festivals in the Wiccan calendar. In particular, Samhain, one of the four Greater Sabbats pretty much coincides with Halloween and celebrates the beginning of winter.

Chiya does this thing where the protagonist’s hand hurts only to awaken their dark powers, I’m not really sure where this trope comes from but I’ve seen it referenced in anime before and it’s a common chuunibyo stereotype. In this case, Chiya did really just hurt her hand. There’s also some sort of runic circle drawn on her bandages, but if you look closer it says shiratama anmitsu matcha parfait in hiragana.

Maya and Megu agree to help Chiya, and become her “familiars”. Even though familiars are better known as a video game mechanic today (which is what the “level up” scene references), witches were associated with familiar spirits since medieval times. A familiar often took form of a small animal, such as a cat. Unfortunately MaMe don’t even know which animal they are, so clearly they didn’t take their backstory as seriously as Chiya did. Their ears and tails look canine to me, so I can see Megu being a fox spirit, but Maya being a cat is less believable. Also during their confrontation Megu confirms that Maya’s fang is her yaeba (snaggle tooth).

As a revenge for the trick MaMe pulled on her, Chiya gives them a selection of pumpkin tarts, one of which is laced with wasabi (which she calls ”Russian roulette”). This seems like a common thing for her, since she did the same with botamochi in season 2 episode 6, and with green tea in season 2 episode 7 (except she used aojiru instead of wasabi). However this time, it was Chiya’s grandmother who put wasabi in two of the tarts, unbeknownst to Chiya. By the way in the manga it wasn’t shown that Chiya got one of the wasabi tarts.

Chiya goes shopping for some pumpkins, but is helped by Rize, and later Sharo gives her anti-pain medications, reminding her of how Chiya tended for her when she was sick in season 1 episode 12. It’s not mentioned in the anime, but Rize also had a “motivation” for helping Chiya, as she hurt her leg before (see season 2 episode 2). Chiya invites Rize and Sharo to dinner and brings up the wasabi-laced pumpkin tarts. According to Chiya the probability of getting wasabi is 1/3. Initially there were 7 tarts, of which 2 had wasabi. Megu, Maya and Chiya eat one each, with Chiya’s having wasabi in it. That leaves 4 tarts with 1 wasabi, so either Chiya’s calculation is incorrect, or somebody ate one more tart.

Apparently last day was just a warm up to Halloween (All Hallow’s Eve’s Eve?), so next day Megu and Maya come to Chiya again and try to summon something. A larger and slightly different version of the runic circle previously seen on Chiya’s hand starts glowing and we see that the 3 white rabbits correspond to three people holding hands. There’s also Anko corresponding to the black rabbit in the middle. By the way, in the manga the sign on Chiya’s hand was just a hexagram, and the summoning ritual didn’t have any visible symbols.

Anyway, they want to summon a messenger from demon world/hell, and coincidentally Cocoa and Chino come in (dressed as vampires) and try to attack (cuddle) them. Chiya, Maya and Megu form New Chimame-tai which works because Chiya and Chino have the same first syllable. However Chi is written with kanji instead of katakana in this version (because Chiya’s name 千夜 is one of the few given names among Gochiusa characters that’s always written with kanji). This defeats Chino, and Chiya consoling Chino like a big sister defeats Cocoa as well.

Ok let’s move on to part B, which is the really important part of the episode. The streets of the town are filled with people dressed in various costumes. Cocoa’s classmates can be seen among the crowd, and Aoyama and Rin are enjoying a boat ride on River Sanzu.

Our main character have also prepared some new costumes for the occasion. First we see Chino, dressing up as Phantom Thief Lapin, while Rize is going as a police officer. Soon Chiya and Sharo join them, who somehow independently of each other also went with a Lapin costume. At least Sharo had a good excuse. For Chiya, Lapin’s gloves obscure the bandage on her hand, so maybe that’s why she chose this costume. But what about Cocoa?

Well, she kinda got lost and we find her at the location that you will recognize if you read my episode 5 review. Cocoa says it looks a little different than usual, almost like a different world (isekai). Well, there’s a lot of evidence to support this hypothesis. First, in a scene that parallels episode 1, Cocoa finds a lost child and tries to calm her down with a magic trick. However you might notice that the child’s head is literally a pumpkin with a moving mouth.

And her mother is also a pumpkinhead. Cocoa doesn’t encounter any other people during this segment, even though you’d think a spot that overlooks the town like this would be quite popular. Well, she does encounter one more person, a mysterious masked magician with an angora rabbit on her head. She also wears a G-clef pendant indicating some sort of music connection.

Now, since y’all had already watched the episode, it wouldn’t be a spoiler to say that this is the ghost of Chino’s mother, Saki. The rabbit on her head is the ghost of the original Tippy before its body was taken over by Chino’s grandfather. The original Tippy was a female rabbit, by the way, a fact established early on in the series. In Sing for You OVA (for which I wrote a not-very-detailed review by the way) it’s established that Saki was a singer and even had a record released.

Anyway, as a ghost, Saki doesn’t speak (although she still can giggle and such) and doesn’t physically interact with Cocoa (only indirectly, by casting candies at Cocoa). Nevertheless she does teach Cocoa how to do the candy trick correctly.

Meanwhile, the rest of the group tries to call Cocoa’s phone but she doesn’t answer. This is another evidence for isekai theory. Cocoa is just out of range, you see. Rize and Sharo swap their costumes (the most unrealistic part of the episode) and Sharo starts “policing” the Lapins on how the real Lapin would talk. Chiya has a bright idea to shout out for Cocoa and call her big sister. However Cocoa would obviously only react if Chino calls her that, so Rize encourages Chino to say it louder (referencing her training for the choir in Sing for You).

Cocoa and Saki hear Chino, and Saki looks at her daughter from the terrace. Chino also looks up... but doesn’t see anything. She does get a hunch that there’s something up there though, so the group finds Cocoa eventually. Meanwhile Saki feels like her time is up and makes for a quick exit, literally disappearing.

This is where Cocoa returns to the “real world”, as the current Tippy calls out for her. Why was Tippy with Cocoa anyway in the first place? Cocoa looks around and there are in fact lots of people there as expected.

Cocoa thinks that Tippy speaking is an evidence of a ghost, despite her interacting with a real ghost just a few moments before. The 3 Lapins arrive and start arguing who is the real Lapin. Chino says that it’s the one who gets away with everything in the end, implying she will take the whole Cocoa for herself. However Sharo arrests Cocoa for making everyone worry.

On the way back, Chiya recalls the legend which was also mentioned by her grandmother at the beginning of the episode about the spirits of the ancestors coming back for this one day and then returning to heavens. Chino looks up to the sky, while Tippy gives her a solace in the fact that he was once again turned away, implying that he expected to return to heaven with the other spirits.

Tippy also seemed to know what Cocoa was talking about in an earlier scene where Cocoa said she forgot to give thanks to somebody. Just what’s up with Tippy and why is he not allowed to enter Heaven is a big mystery here.

Cocoa also notices Chino being distressed and shows her the magic trick with the candy. It turns out Chino remembers this trick from her childhood, and we get to see a full flashback with Chino’s mother even getting a few speaking lines (delivered by none other but Nana Mizuki). Since the candy was probably a part of the magic set, it’s no coincidence that it has the exact same wrapper in the flashback. The color of the candy matches with Chino’s clothes at the time but you can also think of it as a combination of Saki’s white and Chino’s blue.

By the way, in the manga Cocoa conjures up two candies, and they have a plain wrapping so there wasn’t One Specific Candy like in the anime. Also in the flashback, Chino is carried by her grandfather. His face is not shown, but Takahiro is seen in the background (with Rize’s dad) so by exclusion it had to be him. And in the current scene Chino is the one carrying Tippy like this.

The episode ends with Cocoa asking Chino to tell her more about her mother, while a star is seen rising in the sky, presumably symbolizing Saki’s spirit.

Let’s go back to Cocoa meeting Saki scene one more time. Like I explained, it’s heavily implied that Cocoa isn’t really in the same world as the other characters when she meets Saki’s ghost. Of course Gochiusa had supernatural elements from the start, such as a certain talking rabbit who happens to be Chino’s grandfather. But now we have a ghost of Chino’s mother and Cocoa is the only one who can see her, but Chino can’t? Just what the heck is going on here?

But wait, there is a rational explanation for all of this! Cocoa had a hallucination triggered by all the Halloween celebrations. She imagines helping a lost child just like Chino did before (and told Cocoa about it later) and then imagines the ghost of Saki teaching her magic, because subconsciously she wants to be like Saki. She had seen Saki before on a photograph, but haven’t heard her speak, which is why the ghost can’t talk to her. Hearing Chino call her onee-chan brings Cocoa back to her senses. But how did Cocoa learn the trick if it was just her imagination? Well, consider the fact that she was practicing this exact trick at the beginning of the episode. By the time she shows it to Chino, she has already practiced it a lot of times, but maybe she only realized the crucial part (feint) during the hallucination. Either way, the blue striped candy wasn’t given to Cocoa by Saki, she had it from the start, as part of the magic set! The candies that Saki uses to show the trick to Cocoa all disappear when Cocoa returns to reality.

Saki appears one more time in the bar time scene with Takahiro, who is listening to her record Silver Spoon from Sing for You OVA and then calls her by name. I think this is the only time the name “Saki” is mentioned in the show itself, and it’s not mentioned in the manga at all (unless maybe in some recent chapters which I haven’t read yet). The first time it was revealed was during April Fool’s day Clockwork Rabbit event, as a solution to a “puzzle”. Her name is written in katakana as サキ, however one of possible readings of the word “saki” is 咲き which means “bloom”. Now consider how the last few seconds of the opening animation it cuts from a blooming field of dandelions to Saki:

The dandelions connection to Saki was previously seen in season 2 episode 1 and Sing for You. Saki’s character design doesn’t really say “blooming of dandelions” to me, but consider that a dandelion turns into this:

Now that’s more like it! Although it reminds me of Tippy as well. Anyway, that was a very mysterious episode of Gochiusa BLOOM and let’s see what happens next! Only 5 episodes remain...

#gochiusa #gochuumon wa usagi desu ka?#is the order a rabbit?#review

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comradesalazar · 4 years ago

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2020 Creator Wrap: Favorite Works

I will admit I got a lil Emotional that I got tagged in this but I’m so excited to go through it because this year has been SO PRODUCTIVE for me when it comes to writing. Thank you to the legend @that0negayslytherin for tagging me and the other legends, you the real MVP (and also thanks again for setting up the LV fic discord bc that place... really b Wild and really b a wonderful place to motivate each other to be our best.) Legends only!!

Anyhway! Onto this thing... I’m excited.

[rules: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (or so) favourite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought to the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!]

So. Most of my works from this year have been Venji related because I’m still in the deep pit of Love, Victor obsession and idk when that’ll go away. Hopefully not anytime soon because I’m having a great time and fic was an amazing way for me to improve my craft. I do have one piece of original work on this list, but the rest is fic. It’s difficult to choose favorites so I think I’ll go chronologically. A couple of these have graphics but not all of them. Anyway... let’s get into this, shall we.

Arakhne of the Floating Mountain

So this the first work I completed this year. It’s an original novella I wrote for Wattpad’s Open Novella Contest and it’s a very fun, character-centric story that reimagines Arakhne/Arachne (the one from the legend who gets turned into a spider after challenging Athena) as a lonely lesbian who lives alone on, you guessed it, a palace on a mountain in the sky, until three sisters drop by asking for her to create their coronation dresses for when they become the queens of Heaven, Hell and Purgatory. The sisters (Soledad, Luna and Estelle) basically try to court her and it’s a good time. Obviously, I didn’t win the competition but it was still a really fun story for me to write and part of my journey of realizing I can create a writing habit and work on something over the course of a long time, since the only other completed long work I had was for NaNo, which was just binge-writing over 30 days before I had the chance to get bored. If you’re into magical lesbians, check it out!

The stars will love me even if you don’t

I have so much to say about this work. I started it just on a whim in August after I watched Love, Victor in July and began wanting to actually contribute to the works of fandom. Little did I know that I would be embarking on a journey of 120k words and counting, with 33 chapters. This story deals with a whole random of issues -- from long-distance relationships, substance abuse, mental health problems especially around anxiety and depression/suicidality, toxic relationships, codependency, self-harm, the project of becoming oneself and being able to manage life and navigate the world in a healthy way, all the things. In a lot of ways, it is a personal project. But also in a lot of ways I wanted to correct a lot of ideas we have about what constitutes a healthy relationship and what love should look like. There were many times when I wanted to give up on this project due to frustration and exhaustion, but I continued to work at it. I learned so much about my own capabilities, about developing a writing habit, and about what it’s like to write a behemoth of a story. It isn’t perfect by any means but I appreciate the people who have reached out to me and told me that they learned some things about themselves from reading. This is truly a labor of love and I can see that it already accomplished the goal I set for myself which was to help people. It’s lit. And thank you so much to @callmevenji for the lovely cover!! She’s a legend!!

The Thousand-Eyed Wraith (TTEW)

This was a little one-shot I wrote for the Halloween Venji Fic Fest and it takes place in the world of my original work, The Thousand-Eyed Crow. Basically, it’s about what would happen if Venji ended up in that world and had to deal with some spooky nonsense and eventually ended up joining a cult. It was fun for me because it was more stream of consciousness and post-modernist, which is very different to how I normally write but it was a really fun experiment tbh.

You Only Live Forever (YOLF)

This was another one-shot I wrote for the Fic Fest, but this one was much smuttier and mature than TTEW. I was really inspired by Beyonce’s “Partition” (the song and the video lmao) and thought it would be interesting to put Venji in a world similar to Greendale in The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina but with s*x magic, so it was essentially a Love, Victor and CAOS cross-over for grownups lol. Apparently it worked out well, though, and they ended up trying to summon Satan which went... questionably. But I had a lot of fun writing this, as well, especially when it came to sorta balancing the old-timey setting with the modern day and the smutty scenes with the softer, fluffier ones.

Part of Your World

So one day I had an idea to write a Little Mermaid-inspired Venji story that would be so sweet and romantic... And so I did. I took a lot of inspiration from several sources -- one, of course, was the Disney version of the Little Mermaid, as well as the original version which is a lot darker and more sinister, as well as mythology around sirens and selkies and just, I guess like, class warfare. So I ended up with a sorta more adult-version of the Little Mermaid where Benji gets attacked by humans and is distrustful of them until he meets Victor who is “not like other humans” and helps patch him up, and they embark on a bit of a whirlwind romance. This has been a treat to work on even though it’s probably one of my least popular fics because I imagine people are coming for something a bit more light-hearted but I’m incapable of writing something that is 100% fun and not chock full of imagery and meaning. I think this has also been the work that showcased and tested my imagery-writing and dialogue-writing abilities the most and brought out my inner poet. And once again a huge thank you to @callmevenji for the fanart, if you haven’t already followed her you should bc she’s a legend.

Dead Men Feed the Fish

Finally, my last and most recent work is also the story I worked on for NaNoWriMo this year. 63,000 words completed in less than a month, depicting the initial meeting of Venji and the way their romance develops and deepens over time. It’s just (chef’s kiss). I had originally had the idea for pirate!Venji and really wanted to write it because I was inspired by That One Scene in Pirates of the Caribbean, which is probably one of the most romantic scenes I’ve ever seen and between the only het pairing I stan. So I just had to write a story that included this scene and that allowed me to write my dream scenario of Venji out on the open seas being gay and having a good time and going on adventures and having homoerotic sword fights. This story has basically everything -- romance, action, adventure, magic/fantasy, a lil bit of spice/kink, good communication, tension, cute animals, everyone is gay, what’s not to love. I’m also looking to edit and publish traditionally so I’m in the process of fixing all that up now. And once again, thank you to @callmevenji for the brilliant fanart!

Anyway, that was that, and I hope that if you have the time and you get the chance, that you give some of my works a shot because I would be very grateful and I think you will have fun.

I’ll tag @kateis-cakeis, @g531, and I guess anyone else who wants to do this!

#long post #writing #fanfiction #love victor #venji #author #my writing #gay literature

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cecilspeaks · 5 years ago

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164 - The Faceless Old Woman (Live)

[applause]

Jeffrey Cranor: I’m really excited, we wrote this script recently coming up in this last performance for tonight. And I got real excited for writing it, cause we haven’t written like a, to do a live show full length in a new voice. And it was a lot of fun to do.

Joseph Fink: Yeah so tonight we are presenting the first Welcome to Night Vale show that is entirely from the point of view of someone who is not Cecil, this is the time when the Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives In Your Home gets to step out from her secret.. place in your home. [laughter] And tell you a little bit about herself.

Jeffrey: One of my favorite things about writing the Faceless Old Woman stuff is cause the way Joseph and I work is that we’ll write episodes or write parts of episodes and pass it to the other and that person will, sometimes have questions but oftentimes just maybe like add something to it. So a lot of times it’s either, when I get stuff back from Joseph and I dunno if he feels the same way getting stuff back form me, with the Faceless Old Woman script it was always either something really hilarious for something really upsetting. [laughter] And I really love that a lot.

Joseph: This is maybe the most upsetting thing we’ve ever written, I hope you guys enjoy it. [laughter]

Jeffrey: Have fun, good night! [applause]

Joseph: I guess we should start that show we talked about.

Jeffrey: Let’s do it. You guys, let’s welcome to the stage your friend and ours, Mara Wilson!

[applause] [long silence]

Mara Wilson: I am the Faceless Old Woman who secretly lives in your home. Hello. You don’t know me, but I know you. I know you very well. I’ve been going through your medicine cabinet. You take too much Advil. Do you realize how hard that is on your digestion? I know a couple gelcaps and a glass of water before bed can alleviate a morning hangover, but it also puts you in a bad mood, because you don’t get good sleep with all that extra stress you put on your guts. You know what’s a better hangover cure? Not drinking like it’s the last day of community college. I replaced your vodka with clear Windex, and your Advil with Ipecac. This won’t help your hangovers, but it certainly will be more entertaining for me. I don’t sleep, so I need better late night entertainment than Netflix. I’ve already watched every episode of “Money Heist” and “Criminal Man” and “Planet documentary”, I have to spice it up a little bit.

Which reminds me, sorry about the tarantula incident last week. And here I’m speaking specifically to you, Tony. Yes you, in the shirt. The one hoping I’m not talking about you. I’m not sorry you woke up with a tarantula covering your face, nor that it bit you, causing your eyelids to swell up like Kinder eggs filled with purulent discharge instead of toys. I am sorry that I forgot to turn the flash off of my camera, which alarmed both you and the spider, and I never got a good photo. I’ve been building up my portfolio for an art exhibit I call “Gross Things on a Sleeping Tony”. It’s going up June 1, exclusively in your living room. I’ve already gotten “Open-mouthed Centipede Bouquet” framed. You’re gonna find this show absolutely terrific. Wait no, not terrific, what’s the word? Terrifying.

Tony, you’re one of my favorites in Night Vale. I know you hate your direct marketing job selling high interest credit cards to twenty-somethings, but the benefits are great. You have health care, a 401k, and you get to take advantage of people less fortunate than you. Everything is its own reward. But I’ve read your poetry, you love poetry. To be fair, there isn’t a big job market for poets, but you need to explore what makes you happy. I tattooed one of my favorite lines of poetry on you last month. It’s by Mary Oliver. “Instructions for living a life. Close your eyes. Be scared. Good luck.” And then I drew a little butterfly next to the words. I’m not the best artists, though, so it kind of looks like a radish or a sarcoma. Doesn’t matter, you still haven’t noticed. It’s just right below your right shoulder blade, don’t try to find it now, it’s still healing and given that I used the metal rod from that fondue set in your closet as the needle, it’s possible it’s infected. Better to leave it alone.

Tony, look at me. Imagine where my eyes would be. You have a lot to work through. I’m here to help you, I really am. I’ll prove it by giving you some advice. If a venomous arthropod is on your face, don’t scream.

Anyway, it’s not you Tony who’s bothering me, it’s the new people. They are elderly, like me, and they just moved into a house in the center of Night Vale. Or maybe this is decades from now, time is a little hazy for me. I’ve never been in this house nor noticed it before they moved in. it’s a one bedroom and there are three of them. I thought polyamory, but they have three separate beds and they never speak to each other, rarely look at each other, and never leave the home. The first night I secretly lived in their home, I realized they never slept either. They brushed their teeth, put on pajamas and get into bed. But they all lie there, eyes open, through silent hours of darkness.

I tried whispering to them but got no response. Usually when I reveal myself in the dark, I get the thrill of witnessing horror dawn across a person’s distorted mouth and bulging eyes as they see my faceless face pressed up against their own. One of the best parts of visiting new residents. But not these three. For once, I’m the frightened one.

Speaking of frightening, did you get your taxes (-) [0:08:20] on time Alex? You, you’re Alex. You with the shoes. I had to file for an extension. I don’t owe any money because I have no income, but I’m over 200 years old, never got a social security number, have no permanent address and I wasn’t born in this country, it’s a lot of paperwork. And Alex, you know your Wi-Fi is terrible and I was having a hard time downloading the forms I needed, so I just wrote my name on some yellowish-black Boston lettuce you’ve left in the crisper for the last three weeks. But the leaves kept falling apart, I think more like melting. After about 20 minutes, I got frustrated and just made myself a salad. Also, I used the last of your parmesan cheese, but don’t worry, I replaced it with dried skin I’ve been collecting from your bed sheets. Don’t be grossed out, Alex. Same texture and nutritional value, you won’t know the difference. I got the idea from a Food Network’s “Beat Bobby Flay”, where this one winner tied up Bobby and ran a (micro-) [0:09:17] across his forehead to make a chimichurri sauce.

I love that show, but I’m a bigger fan of HGTV’s “House Hunters”, the desert dystopian version. That’s where I met you, Addie. Yes you, with the face. You were shopping for a new home here in Night Vale. You told the realtor - who was inside of a living deer, its belly horrifically distended and quivering with every one of the agent’s words and gesticulation – that you wanted three bedrooms, a back yard, and something close to an outdoor community space. The first home, the yard was not in good shape, lots of (- remains) [0:09:55] and the lawn was glowing, perhaps from underground radiation testing. It was well under your budget, but you would have had to spend your savings on fixing it up. Also, in the bathroom mirror you saw, crawling across the ceiling, a faceless old woman devouring what looked like a rat. You didn’t need to worry about a rat infestation, Addie. It was a chipmunk. The second home was a condo right in the heart of the arts district. You loved the design: a simple large black cube, no doors, no windows, no interior. A true closed floor plan, so popular these days. But you weren’t sure there was enough room for entertaining, or anything else at all. The house you selected was perfect. Three bedrooms, a Jacuzzi en suite, and a large patio backyard. Plus it was right in the middle of town next to a community dog park. Although you would be disappointed later to learn that your dog had been arrested for domestic espionage after peeing inside the park’s forbidden walls. I think you made the right choice, Addie, but I can’t help wondering every time I watch “House Hunters”, who is this person running away from? You left Queens to move to Night Vale. Queens is where your family lives, where your best friend lives, and your girlfriend of two years. Are you afraid of stasis, Addie? Of being loved, of commitment? You might be afraid of that pinkish ooze coming out of your ear, might wanna see an ENT about that. Or if not an ENT, an entomologist.

Speaking of putting woodboring beetles inside orifices, I tried a similar thing with the elderly room mates who recently moved to town, or will move to town many years from now, again time is strange to me. But these room mates are also so strange. When I went to put a beetle into one of their ears, I noticed a lot of scar tissue there, making the hole too small. In my haste, the beetle scurried away and I got kind of desperate and just made a bunch of spooky moans and hisses like this: [moans, hisses] but not one of the three responded to me. They continued their meaningless pantomime of sleeping, and in the morning they got up and each went quietly about their days. One of them made coffee, but did not drink it. They then went to the window and waved at their neighbor, Susan Willman, who was on her porch stretching before her morning run. Susan looked at the figure in the window next to her and froze. She stared in terror, then darted back into her home and locked the door. Susan has always been unfriendly. I ran her bed sheets through her office shredder as a reminder to be more open and loving toward the world.

The other two room mates climbed into the shower at the same time. I’m not one to get off on others’ sexual activities, I just thought I might see something new, something human here. But no, they stood side by side, cleaning their cold gravity-defeated bodies, not once looking at each other let alone speaking. A squelch and a squish and grey water falling around yellow toenails. They toweled off, but when they hung the towels up, those towels were completely dry.

I’m used to being the one who does inexplicable and disturbing things. Last year during the community players’ production of “Romeo and Juliet”, I decided it would be more fun if they used actual poison. But it was a last minute idea, so the only poison I could find was Borax. Which just gave the two kids playing the leads several unhappy hours in the bathroom on the night after the show ended, so I don’t know. I could have made a stronger directorial choice. But so could the actual director, I get that Shakespeare plays are long, but he cut out all the best parts like the train robbery, and also Tybalt winning his bowling league. Although I did appreciate that they left in Juliet’s famous line: “Good night, good night, your blood and guts and marrow, which worms shall eat inside your grave so narrow.” It’s a classic story. Kids these days just don’t try to fake their own deaths anymore.

Oh. And Morgan. Yes Morgan, I’m talking to you, you with the fingernail sand the teeth. I need to explain something to you. You tip 20 per cent. You can afford it, stop using it as a measure of how much you approve of the restaurant service. A 20 per cent tip is not bonus, it’s a fee. Restaurant owners don’t pay their staffs, instead they make the diners pay their employees through this idiotic notion of capitalist meritocracy. I don’t care how bad the service, tip them. You have money, Morgan. I would also tell you to stop asking to speak to a manager every time your Long Island Ice Tea is a bit like, but I got out your tongue last month, so they wouldn’t understand you anymore anyway. Do you know what a cut human tongue tastes like, Morgan? Yes you do. You just don’t know that you do. Remember Applebee’s last week? You ordered soup. It was a beef base with little onions and little perfectly sautéed flecks of your own tongue that you had used to lash out at a manager the last time you ate there. You could blame them for poorly expediting your orders, but really the onus is on you for going to Applebee’s. Which serves neither of the items its name promises. It’s false advertising. It’s like an egg cream soda, or Taco Bell.

Speaking of eating, the elderly room mates made lunch together, but not for each other. They were all in the kitchen at the same time making separate meals in silence. They sat around the dining room table together and ate. They carved and stabbed and pushed foods quickly into their mouths, but their eyes were empty. One of them began to spit out their food. No one seemed to care or notice. They all began to vomit, but not with muscular heaves of shoulders and necks, the vomit spurted out like water from a hand pump, their torsos and heads perfectly still. After each bodily rejection of food, they would start shoveling it back to their mouths, repeating the same process. Eventually one of them stood up and threw their plate into the kitchen window, glass bursting everywhere. That person leaned into the hole and began punching the jagged shards out with their clenched fists as blood poured out of their forearms and wrists. They screamed mournfully into the suburban street. Neighbors and passers-by passed only briefly, as if they had barely heard the sad howls spreading across the valley. Susan’s lemon tree next door died instantly and all the lemons fell with wet plops to the ground. The fruit pealed open and inside of each was a fleshy crimson pulp, like meat that has been ground for too long. The other two room mates kept eating and vomiting, not even noticing the shattered glass being subsumed by the growing pool of blood on the floor.

You know, I wasn’t always like this, faceless or old. Secretly living anywhere. Once I was born upon warm water. The smell I remember is sharp citrus and the peppery sting of grass. The salt funk of ocean. I was once a child. I grieved once. I smelled blood. Once I was a thief. I lived among thieves, I saw empires rise and fall, centuries cast themselves upon infinity as fruitlessly as waves upon cliffs. Once I was a recluse. I lived amongst bandits and farmers, I spoke a different language then. I’ve spoken many languages.

Once I was under the sea. That was a quiet time. I lived amongst the coral and dead-eyed fish. Once I was a wanderer. I’ve seen the (head) [0:18:14] waters of the Mississippi and I’ve seen the cobbled streets of Paris and I’ve seen the empty arches of Franchia. But I’ve never seen anything like those three room mates. Of all the things I've been – child, thief, recluse, wandered, faceless old woman who secretly lives in your home, I’ll tell you this: I’ve never been more scared.

Fear is in the unknowing and the mystery. Fear is seeing everything about an old woman except her face. Fear is the uncertainty of her secretly living in your home. Fear is not the spider you see on the wall. It’s the spider you no longer see on the wall when you look back again.

In the unnerving din of shattered glass and mournful howls of that house, I found the loose thread that unraveled this mystery. The room mate who screamed had no tongue. And one of the others had an ear swollen shut from a previous surgery. And the other had a red mark, like a radish or sarcoma adorned with poetry drawn upon their shoulder blade. I realized I knew these three strange room mates. They are you, Tony, the special tattoo I gave you. And they are you, Addie, with your oral scar tissue from the beetle I jammed in there. And you, Morgan, with your tongue removed and digested. The three of you do not exactly live together in that home, not at the same time. You are living three different lifetimes in that same space. You do not speak or respond, because you are dead. Each of you alone in that house together, or you will be, time is confusing for me. Decades from now after you die, your souls will be trapped in the house, because something in this world is unresolved for you. You know this, paranormal neuroscience is required for all high school freshmen. But what they don’t teach you is how to resolve it. I know how and when each one of you die. I wrote it down on the back pages of your journals. Iv’e done this for everybody, but nobody ever reads it, because while people always think they’ll write every day, after a few pages they fall off the wagon and never see the lsat pages of their journals. Except Jonathan Franzen. He didn’t seem bothered by what he read. But he did cross out all my adverbs and added some Oxford commas. In case you’re wondering how Jonathan Franzen dies, here’s the answer: he doesn’t.

I am the faceless old woman who secretly lives in your home. You might find this ambiguous, after all the word “home” is singular. So whose home is it that I secretly live in? Listen, some things in this tangled world are simple. I live in your home, and your home, and your home, I live in all of your homes simultaneously. I am many. [echo] I am many. I am one. [echo] I am one. You all live such different lives, teeming, that’s what you are: teeming. And I am there watching you.

You, Tony, you dream of being a poet. Resolve the unresolved. The worst that can happen is crushing disappointment and public mockery, and eviction when you can’t pay your rent. Many more awful things after that, get to it!

And you, Addie, you fled your previous city to escape a murder charge. Strangely, you didn’t commit the murder you were charged with, but you have committed murder. Weird choice to go on “House Hunters” as a wanted fugitive, but maybe it was a good first step to healing your soul.

And you, Morgan. You have an idea that could save us all, an epic defining idea, one of the greats, but you don’t know which one. You have so many ideas. I can tell you this: most of them are not important. One of them is vitally important. Good luck. Also, tip 20 per cent.

And you, I forgot your name, you tweet too much. We all tweet too much, but that doesn’t let you off the hook. That’s why I ate your phone. You can thank me later. You can all thank me later. Because you all will be seeing me soon. I think that tonight is the night to let slip my secret. You’ll soon see me fumbling wet and gray from out of the bathroom mirror, or folded up strangely loose skin and mashed bones in the bottom drawer of your dresser. Or you will see me scuttle on your walls, the hair hanging down from my faceless face. Or you will look out your kitchen window and there will be someone standing in your driveway, and it will be me, and there will be no one in the driveway and instead, I will be next to you in the kitchen. Faceless and so very very old. Won’t that be nice?

I’m the Faceless Old Woman who secretly lives in your home. And your home. And your home. And every home. And I will be seeing you very, very soon.

[music, applause]

Today’s proverb: Never judge a book by its cover. Judge it by the title page instead.

#welcome to night vale #wtnv transcripts #episode 164 #the faceless old woman #the faceless old woman live #finally #thanks for your patience #there might be more mistakes bc there were many big words

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