#I wanna cry I have six pages done in the last hour and nothing cool has happened yet ahahahahaha

[undercooked-icicle]

I hate that writing a book can't just be like thirty disconnected scenes with a vague connection and the same characters. Why does there have to be STUFF. I hate the STUFF.

[mini-moongi]

missing you. || yoongi

Genre: Angst, unrequited love?, fluff ending

Warnings: Toxic behavior, abuse, uh oh bad relationship man. Please, if you are going through these kinds of things, seek out help, and talk to someone you trust about it!!

Summary: Your latest relationship is... well... not that great. When Yoongi tries to convince you to leave, it doesn’t end well. He’s forced onto the back burner of your life, and without him, it spirals out of control.

[requested!]

[Hi!! Can I request a yoongi x reader that starts off sort of angsty with reader in love with someone else in a not so healthy relationship - but then she gets out and realizes that yoongi has been there the whole time??? Like I wanna cry cause it’s sad then I wanna cry cause it’s happy lol]

a/n: heck yeah this was requested; thank you!!! To be honest, a good Yoongi fic from me is well overdue-- sorry yoongi! I still love you!

────── ☽. ✧₊∘ ──────

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Yoongi’s voice is stern and laced with more concern than you had hoped. A simple brunch get-together, that was all you wanted. You didn’t mean for this to happen, but you’re sitting here letting Yoongi hold your arm out for everyone to see. Blues, purples, and blacks dance along your forearm; a twisted display of affection.

You try to remove yourself from his grasp, but his hold on you is firm. His soft brown eyes searches yours for answers you didn’t want to say out loud. The long sleeve sweater you were wearing rode up on your arm when you reached for his drink, and now he wouldn’t let it go. “It’s fine, Yoongi.”

You smile, but he knows you aren’t fine. Years of friendship and trust told him that much. Michael loves you, these.... these bruises? They were your fault; you were out of line. 

“Y/n,” Yoongi swallows the lump forming in his throat. You didn’t need to respond back-- he already knew the answer. God, how could anyone do this to you? “This isn’t okay. What he’s doing isn’t okay.” 

His bangs fall in front of his face as he leans his head down, lost in pensive thought. Yoongi’s large hands rub soothing circles into your skin, a rhythm you almost get lost in, but you’re careful not to give in too much; Michael wouldn’t like it if you did. 

“If it was ever really bad,” your voice wavers for a moment. “...I would tell you. I really would, Yoongi, promise.” You hope another weak smile will seal the deal, but he doesn’t drop it. Classic Yoongi, you think to yourself. 

“You’re too tough on yourself, you know that?” A dry laugh escapes him, and you wonder if this conversation will ever end. “Y/n, I’m telling you, this Michael guy is bad business. Please, you have to get out while you still can. If you can’t do it for you, do it for me.” He insists a little softer now; the melancholy tension hurts so gently.

You almost say yes, you almost make it out that day, but the man of the hour walks into the cafe. Your time’s up. Quickly you leave Yoongi’s warmth, a feeling you miss already. Even after he’s stopped holding you, his touch still lingers on your skin. Michael’s smile drops, and a glare is shot at your best friend. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” His voice is low and threatening as he nears you two.

“No! No, of course not,” you jut in,”I was just about to leave. Bye, Yoongi.” You gather your things as quickly as possible; you don’t want to keep your boyfriend waiting. Before you can leave, Yoongi gently grabs your wrist. 

It hurts a little inside when you ignore his pleading gaze, and it hurts even more when he lets go.

For a while, Michael doesn’t let you see Yoongi again. Your best friend dwindles away like all of the others in your life, something you wish would never happen. You’ve been working really hard to make Michael happy, and it finally pays off. When you finally meet up with Yoongi, he thrusts you into conversation as soon as your boyfriend was out of earshot.

“Y/n, are you okay?” Yoongi envelopes you in a comforting embrace-- one you associate with home and freshly brewed coffee. You’re stood stiff in his hold, too scared to reciprocate. “You don’t text back, you don’t call, I don’t even see you for how long? A week? A year?”

“...It’s only been a month.” You state simply. 

“Okay first of all,” Yoongi huffs,” Longest month of my fucking life.”

You snort in surprise, and laughter finds its way out of you. You nod your head in agreement, it has been too long, you realize. 

“Second, you’ve got to break up with him--” His hands rests on both of your shoulders. “--I’m sorry, I had to say it again.”

“Yoongi, we’ve been over this.” You frown, disappointed that you’ve come to this. “Michael loves me. We’re cool.”

“This,” he gestures to the sunglasses you’re wearing. Even a pair of shades and concealer couldn’t hide the black eye you’ve developed since he last saw you. “...This isn’t cool. Not even in the slightest. He’s using you, y/n, if this is his idea of love, it isn’t it. Y/n, I--”

“--I can handle myself you know,” You brush his hands away; you’d rather be left in the cold than bask in Yoongi’s touch and be reminded of what you don’t deserve. “I don’t need you to tell me this every time we see each other.”

“I’m just trying to help you--”

“I know. And it hurts, Yoongi,” you point to your chest, where your heart is already breaking into pieces. Tears threaten to fall from your eyes, but evidently they’re too dry at the moment. You’ve done enough crying at home. “Just... Just leave. I’m done trying to explain myself to you.”

The pain that courses through you is unbearable as you watch Yoongi’s own heart fall apart in front you. His grip on you loosens, and he refuses to make eye contact with you. You can’t take back what you’ve said, no matter how much you want to, and you watch him slip away from your grasp. 

He’s cold, bitter. He won’t let you know how much it physically pains him to see you like this. Yoongi loves you; it’s a well kept secret meant for late night drives and movie night. His emotions are riding so high right now that one wrong step can ruin everything you two built over the last few years. So Yoongi does the only thing he can think of in that moment. He lets detaches himself from you, he walks away.

He’ll always be there, silently hoping that you make it out. Hoping that you’ll realize that you deserve better. Yoongi wants to be the one to make it better, but for now, he’ll have to settle for loving you from a distance.

You don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve last seen Yoongi. 

That’s a lie, it’s been exactly a month and six days. His laughter and smile has become a distant memory, and you can’t seem to remember the last time you two had movie night. The faint smell of caffeine and cologne ghosts by; you instinctively breathe it in. 

Michael nudges your side. “What’s the matter with you?”

“..Nothing!” you blurt out. The last thing you need is for him to start another fire.

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re a terrible liar, y/n. I bet it’s the guy you’re cheating on me with.” He grumbles. The tv you two were watching fades to background noise. If you don’t say anything, you’ll feed the lie, but if you speak up, you’re covering the lie.

“I’m not cheating on you.”

“His name is Yoongi, right?” He completely ignores your protests and stands up off of the couch. “What does it take to get you to stop being such a whore for once?” He’s stormed off, dismissive of the way you start crying.

No, this isn’t okay. This isn’t right. “Yoongi has nothing to do with this.” you’re begging at this point, trying to reach out to Michael. “Whatever you think this is, it’s all my fault.” 

All Michael can see is red-- hot, boiling anger runs through his veins. “Of course it’s your fault, it always is.” The metal on his belt glints in the light, flashing your reflection.

That’s all it took. A split second for you to see what you really looked like; Black eyes, bruises, bumps, cuts, they were everywhere. You’re living a miserable life with Michael, you realize. Maybe at one point he loved you, but not anymore.

As your pain and ignorance raises the belt higher, you start to recall Yoongi’s comforting, tender smile, like you’re living it all over again. The vivid details of him envelop you in a blanket of peace and serenity. These could be your last moments, and Yoongi’s on the front page.

You missed him; you missed Min Yoongi.

In a blink of an eye, you make a break for it. It’s last thing Michael expects, so you’re able to get a head start. You’re dialing for the police, tears streaming down your face with Yoongi being the only thing you can think of. 

You make it out this time. Even as your lungs burn with each breath, you keep going. You run as far as your body can take you and finally, you can breathe again.

You’re a broken husk of a person sitting in the police station. They’ve given you a blanket, but it does little to help. The kind officer has called your emergency contact, your best friend. You love Min Yoongi, but at this point, he’s not your best friend anymore; he can’t be. He’s always been the shoulder you leaned on, and arms you cried in. As each minute goes by, you let yourself admit that maybe, just maybe, you liked him a little bit more.

The rain starts to pick up outside, and you peer into the night sky. The wind howls, and the soothing rain eases your suffering, if only for a little while. It’s so dark tonight, and you doubt he’ll show in this weather. Not after what you’ve said to him. Thunder cackles in the sky, and the spark of light that follows after flashes a black silhouette. 

It comes closer and closer, and before you know it, he bursts through the door. He glistens with the rain and sweat that rolls down the sides of his face. He smiles, and a breathy laugh parts from his lips. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” His shoulders relax, and Yoongi looks at you like you have the whole world in your eyes.

Tears already start welling in your eyes; they missed that smile too much, it seems. The drenched black coat is quickly shucked off, revealing a dryer, white shirt underneath. His embrace is warm, the lovely scent of coffee and cologne filling your senses. 

You hold him close. Your grip on him is tighter, more desperate. You craved his touch an embarrassing amount, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He just holds you closer, breathing in the fact that you two are together again. Peace, warmth, love; this is what it’s supposed to feel like. You might not date for a while, but you’re sure he’ll show you the ropes when you’re ready.

When he lets go, it’s cold again. But this time, you aren’t afraid. “Let’s go home.” Yoongi’s voice is choked up from the emotional rollercoaster, but he says it so effortlessly. You nod; You’re always home if it’s with Min Yoongi. 

────── ☽. ✧₊∘ ──────

A/n: wow this one just came out of me,,, I feel like I need a sugary snack to combat how sad this fic made me?? Anyhoo--- my requests are always open!! (just fyi lol) but yes, thank you so much for requesting!

[bladekindeyewear]

HS^2 bloggin’ mainline 2020-04-02

Alright I’ll fix the broken images later right now lets goooooo read the updaaaate I’ve been only spoiled on the chapter title

I don’t even wanna guess.  Jake?  This makes me think of Jake for some reason, even though that doesn’t make much se-- oh right the Vriskas are locked in a school closet with a dead clown.

> CHAPTER 7. Distress Call From the Closet

Yep.

Also, this is how a car design looks when it was invented to have its first appearance be it flying with a human named Tavros looking out from an open side door.

(I’m not ENTIRELY against designing something for its immediate-art-use-purpose first and functional or historical-origination thought later, but usually when you make it that obvious that that’s what your doing it’s best to make that fact funny.  Like the Conveniently Shaped Lamp.)

Also I appreciate this using of Candy as kind of more lighthearted breaks in the action?

> (==>)

I thoguht that protruding fang (?) was drool for a second and wondered what the fuck they were up to in this closet all of a sudden.

Vriska, thriving on it, has not felt so decadently alive in a very long time. Tavros has never in his tragic existence felt so close to death, which is surprising to him.

Vrissy is trying her best not to grapple with any cosmic truths at the moment, since she’s getting a phone call in the middle of hiding for her life.

Vrissy’s implied to be somewhere in-between all that by this joke.  I bet she’ll be comparing herself to Vriska and Tavros alike throughout this mess, wondering where on the spectrum she lands and being ashamed of it AND both of them regardless.  Vriska Original had a ghost version who went on a fair bit of a Page dress-up thing and personality shift, so maybe we could expect Vrissy to struggle with being caught in the middle of the scales... or does that qualify as overthinking it classpectways?

VRISSY: Yeah Harry I would say we are Extremely Aware of the Situ8ion. VRISSY: As it Unfolded the fuck all around us.

Good Christ, Vrissy’s selectively-capitalized Kanaya-isms continue to be cute.

Oh, he’s on speakerphone.

> (==>)

Yep, telling Rose and Kanaya would be the smart thing to do, but it isn’t the Them thing to do.

--ROXY’S PLACE?!??  Hoo boy.  On the other hand, though, we get more Roxy, so it evens out.

Also, I like how Harry Anderson has to spell out Harry Anderson’s entire name for his Harry Anderson chat tag every single time.  Harry Anderson.

> (==>)

Part of the reason, Tavros thinks, that he’s been so game to continue on with the worst plan anyone has ever concocted, is that the more bullshit they endure, the longer they can put off actually doing anything that matters.

If he’s getting sprayed with a sprinkler and getting clown feet in his face, it’s a farce. It can’t hurt him. But if they get to the part where he’s shoving the uncooperative weight of his uncle’s corpse in an incinerator, he will stop floating in protective semi-consciousness above his body and it will all be real.

Ouch.

Can’t one of you assholes just captchalogue him?  Or did you leave all the appropriate-strength moduses at home?  Even you Vriska??

Oh, right.  Everyone knows and you can just leave him here.  Good call.  I mean you don’t really have to worry about forensic evidence with the pictures circulating.

> (==>)

VRISKA: 8ye 8itch.

Oooh!  That feels satisfying!  Yeah, tell off Gamzee’s corpse!

...Wait.

If they just leave Gamzee there, Jane can revive him, can’t she.

Fuck.  Maybe it’s up to Jake to try and stop that.

> (==>)

Karkat and Meenah resistance-time, then, with them presumably hearing about this development on the internet.  Wow, Meenah’s horns are getting long fast.  Plus a hint more of her grown-up self’s height.  I didn’t think she’d keep maturing so fast with her absurd lifespan ahead of her.

Oh shit, I didn’t see at first--

Right, Candy might still be lighthearted compared to the broader plot just due to lowered stakes, but it’s still the Carpet-Bombing-and-War-Filled Shituniverse.

Trolls are made for the battlefield.

From the moment a troll oozes out of the mother grub’s pulsating sphincter, through the trials of the brooding caverns, across the brutal day to day slog of Alternian society, all the way to their Ordeals, to the sucking void of space. They are bred for nothing but endless war.

But Commander Vantas...Commander Vantas is different.

Is... is Meenah narrating right now?  Because fuck.

Or so all the pamphlets say.

The actual Commander Vantas has blisters on his heel and has been taking pot-shots at scouting drones for the last six hours. He could use a bath, honestly.

Or is this one of the trolls on the side narrating who’s kind of internalized the stories of trolls’ prior warlike nature?

> (==>)

MEENAH: yo nubs is that u MEENAH: pretty rank KARKAT: OH MY GOD. KARKAT: I FLATLY REFUSE TO BELIEVE THAT YOU CAN SMELL MY NATURAL MUSK OVER THE STENCH OF BLOOD AND BURNING FLESH.

I guess it probably was Meenah narrating, then.  Unless it’s a really biased alt!Callie doing the talking.

MEENAH: didnt i warn u bout thinking tho? KARKAT: GOD DAMMIT MEENAH, DON’T MEME AT ME.

I don’t know what meme this is and I really don’t want to know.

They have had this argument more than once. In fact, both of them could play either side of it. Karkat has done his time in the field, of course, leading small guerilla operations to free prisoners and sabotage Crocker’s supply chains, but Meenah and the rest of the council is right. Which is why he’s here, instead of at the front lines with his rebels, where he belongs.

His true value is his face. His symbology. At the end of the day, he is a fucking ad campaign.

...is KARKAT narrating here???

SWIFER: boss check the news!

Oh shit, right, Swifer is in the resistance in Candy instead of just a breeding assistant in Meat as the bonuses remind us.

KARKAT: OH FUCK. MEENAH: what KARKAT: JESUS CHRIST. MEENAH: nubs i swear 2 god KARKAT: IT’S GAMZEE. KARKAT: HE’S DEAD. MEENAH: oh MEENAH: well shit KARKAT: I CAN’T FUCKING BELIEVE THIS. MEENAH: u okay KARKAT: NO!

Huh.  Them’s some complicated feelings that could fall in basically all directions at once.

Also, I can’t believe Karkat has hung around humans enough to fully internalize the full-throated exclamation “JESUS CHRIST”, which wouldn’t even really be a thing on Earth C with people who aren’t from Earths B or A.

MEENAH: u outlawed fishpuns i gotta make my own fun

How could you, Karkat.

KARKAT: AND I GUESS IF YOU CALL AN OBSCENELY PUBLIC PALE ACT, PERFORMED IN A FUGUE OF DESPERATE PANIC INTENDED TO PREVENT HIM FROM MURDERING ALL OF MY FRIENDS INSTEAD OF JUST HALF OF THEM “A THING”. KARKAT: THEN YES, I GUESS WE HAD A THING. KARKAT: BUT IF YOU’RE ASKING ME IF I’M SAD THAT HE’S DEAD? KARKAT: ABSOLUTELY THE FUCK NOT.

Okay, I’d hoped not, good...

KARKAT: THAT’S NOT WHY I’M SAYING FUCK A BUNCH OF TIMES. MEENAH: u need a reason to say fuck a buncha times KARKAT: SHUT UP. KARKAT: LOOK AT THE PICTURE.

--Right!  That’s a good reason to not be okay.

KARKAT: I DON’T THINK SO? I CAN’T SEE HER EYES IN THIS PICTURE, BUT SHE’S COVERED IN BLOOD, AND SHE’S CARRYING GAMZEE, SO SHE’S CORPOREAL AT LEAST.

I love this form of analysis somehow.

KARKAT: OKAY...HERE. OH. OF COURSE. CROCKER IS CLAIMING HER SON WAS KIDNAPPED AND FORCED TO PARTICIPATE. KARKAT: AND THEY’VE NAMED ME AS THE MASTERMIND. MEENAH: well we woulda taken credit for it anyway so this saves us the time MEENAH: thanks jane owe u one

Meenah isn’t the “concerned” type.  Lemonade out of lemons.

> (==>)

That middle tweet is my favorite.

Oh dear, “#GamzeeAnon”...

KARKAT: SHIT. OF COURSE THIS WOULD HAVE TO DO WITH FUCKING SERKET. KARKAT: LITERAL MONTHS OF PLANNING, HOURS AND HOURS OF LOGISTICS, AND ALL OF IT GOES UP IN SMOKE BECAUSE OF ONE SPIDERY ASSHOLE. KARKAT: SHE *WOULD* FIND SOME WAY TO WRECK MY SHIT FROM BEYOND THE GRAVE.

indisputable

KARKAT: NOW? KARKAT: NOW WE PIVOT FROM THE SUBLIME TO THE RIDICULOUS.

Um...

What does that mean?

I’m having a lot of trouble not only understanding the basic meaning of what he’s saying, here, but understanding why KARKAT of all people would employ it.

......it’s a meme, isn’t it.  Gotta be.

> (==>)

(Ooh, an eyepatch designed to invoke a Strider-shade.  Nice.)

KARKAT: I NEED TO TALK TO EGBERT.

But....... why??

> (==>)

Oh right, cause his son’s girlfriend is involved.

> (==>)

Oh my goooood what a pair of John and Roxy caaaars! :D

He is too busy with these mental gymnastics to notice his father’s car parked outside.

Ah right.  John’s... not on the best terms with him, I recall that.

> (==>)

Ohhhh myyyy goooood what an image!!!

John, Roxy, and Harry Anderson proceed to have the tail end of a conversation they had before, in another medium.

What the fuck!?  Harry had that conversation WHILE this dead body situation was going on?!  Let me reread that linked bit...

(And she has such a somber smile on her face, but given the conversation content it’s not surprising.)

Harry Anderson looks at the two of them all teary and laughing and hikes his bag higher on his shoulder, shifting his weight. Roxy sees a muscle tighten in his jaw. Her beautiful, smart boy. She wants to run over and hug him, to protect him from the possibility of pain at talking to his father, but she doesn’t. She knows how much he’s wanted this, no matter how much he jokes about it.

She looks back at John, and sees her own awe mirrored in his face. She wills him not to cry, not to fall back on his self-imposed suffering and blame loop. Something about the last hour must have done the trick, though. John stands up, brushes his hands on his jeans, and walks, back straight, toward his son.

JOHN: hey harry anderson. JOHN: it’s really, really good to see you. JOHN: do you wanna go for a drive?

The muscle in Harry Anderson’s jaw clenches a few more times, but when he smiles, it is genuine.

HARRY ANDERSON: yeah, dad. HARRY ANDERSON: that could be cool.

Oh son of a bitch.  Well isn’t that entertaining.  Harry you’re just going to ditch your friends for I’m kidding, this is life fulfillment you’re aiming for, of COURSE you’re going to agree.  (Too bad bringing the current situation in is gonna throw a wrench in things.)

> (==>)

Oh right, that means more of THIS Vriska and THIS John.  They’ve had a good start talking already, I wonder what more they can learn from each other.

HARRY ANDERSON: but no worries, i asked my mom to pick me up some snacks so she’ll leave to go to the store in a sec. HARRY ANDERSON: just sneak in after she leaves and hide in my room, and i’ll be back in a bit.

Harry you enormous shortsighted asshole.  And John’s about to learn all this from Karkat over the phone to blow his cover.

> (==>)

aaaaa roxy art i cannot :D

Wonder if her stealthiness attunement is gonna catch them in the act?

> (==>)

From this jealousy bit, I wonder to what degree Earth C humans are used to Troll quadrants and their various interplay mores.

> (Room: Examine yourself.)

Oh, a proper room introduction for Harry Anderson!  Very fashion-focused, very liking the spotlight--

Oh wait, shit.  This is traditionally where classpect associations are hinted more obviously than anywhere else.  Time to stop holding back on the classpect stuff and take in every fucking word with capital-C Classpect fully in mind.

A bedroom stands empty. There is no boy standing in this bedroom, or indeed anyone else. However, if the boy whose bedroom it was were here, one might remark that his name was HARRY ANDERSON.

And FUCK, one might say, does he like MUSICAL THEATER.

Spotlight, definitely.  But is it for the attention? The possibilities? The acting?

He has been in his fair share of school plays, but he has LOFTY ASPIRATIONS to STAR in bigger and better productions. He especially appreciates modern MUSICAL REMAKES of classic OLD EARTH MOVIES. It's a craze that not everyone is happy about, but in the absent boy they have found a DEVOTED FAN. There is also just enough overlap between his taste and his father’s to allow for SOMEWHAT STILTED CONVERSATIONAL BONDING from time to time.

Hmmmm.  Is it about the majesty of important works of media (I see “Pokémon” and “Alien vs Predator” up there...), or is it about the fact that they’re remakes of past works?  Those are a lot of awards and stage lights now that I zoom in to look... and hats... hats could be important......

The boy who is not yet here has also been known to dabble in ACCESSORIZATION. He could be described as a COBBLER ASPIRANT, a NEOPHYTE MILLINER, or even a BIT OF A WHIZZ WITH A NEEDLE AND THREAD.

Oh, interesting!  Not just putting out different outfits, but making them?  And Milliner is hat-specific creation...

His mother got him his first SEWING MACHINE when he was 10, to keep him from using hers all the time. His looks are HAND-CRAFTED, often IMITATED, but never DUPLICATED.

Space is obviously possible from sewing, but-- A focus on uniqueness!!!  The broader theme is getting VERY specific.  You might feel where I’m leaning already.

His COSTUMES appear in various AMATEUR PRODUCTIONS, the devising of which takes up most of his FREE TIME. His friends are usually LESS APPRECIATIVE of his attempts to dress them up than he would like, though.

Holy fucking shit.  He dresses up and makes unique HATS for his friends and others.  Specifically so they can use them as COSTUMES to act parts!!!!

And the other unique thing mentioned about him here took the time aside to note how he appreciated the intersection in personal interests between him and his father for it.

So you all know what I’m thinking, right?  HATS???  It’s got to be Heart, isn’t it.  Maybe even a Page of Heart, with his long-off aspirations and talent for arming others with it.  Any other additive/giving class might do the trick, too, like Sylph or possibly Maid.  Knight could technically still fit pretty well, but I feel Page is better given what little we know so far, what with so much outward focus bleeding out.

(You can comb through the saga on my infamous hats tag or the summary on the Aspect Duality post, but the gist is that hats (and others’ clothes, but especially the hats. even shoes -- SO many shoes in that picture!) represent the gist of an expressed identity, personal uniqueness whether innate or affected ala a costume.  Nepeta, Dirk, Terezi, and even Stitch have given us examples, some of them deeper than we realized, MOST of them probably overthought bullshit like I thought when I first created the hats tag and started tracking the wonderful importance of hats. ¬_¬)

I’d like to see anyone else’s interpretation. (EDIT: One more potential Nep-allusion in this room.)

> (==>)

Oh nooooooo!!!!  Tavros’s sprite is the saddest looking thing I’ve ever seen!! D:  Like a mix of Jane and Jake that thoroughly regrets his entire existence!  Which he practically does!  D:  Why the Caliborn-like clothes though?

(Some hint at “how different alt!Callie’s Caliborn must have been” like the commentary suggested exploring in fanfiction?  Was the suggestion meant to divert attention from the idea that it’d be addressed in the plot?  Andrew pulled that trick a time or two, why not these authors?)

Also:

Pffff.  Vriska just accessorizing immediately--  Oh, wait.  That might just be a bandana she had at some point coated in Gamzee’s blood. 

Tavros is looking at the news on a borrowed phone -- nice call on disabling the tracking on yours, Tavros.

> (==>)

TAVROS: It’s getting a bit surreal to see my, uh,, frozen mask of horror on every news site,, TAVROS: It’s a good shot of you,,, though, Vrissy, VRISSY: It really is Shockingly well composed.

Heheheh.  It’s fun that Tavros knows exactly what Vrissy/ka would care about.

And yes, Vriska is over there trying out ALL the bandanas.

> (==>)

VRISSY: Oh, is trying on all my 8oyfriend’s accessories not passing the time well enough for you? VRISKA: Desper8 times call for desper8 measures, Vrissy. VRISKA: And this is some dire shit.

They stare each other down. Did she mean the fugitive situation, or Harry Anderson’s fashion choices? Vrissy feels silly wondering this, but despite the situation they’re in, she can’t help but feel more acutely anxious about Vriska’s presence.

She likes her life, and she trusts her own choices. But now, looking at everything from Vriska’s vantage point, it all feels silly. Unimportant. Childish.

She can’t tell if she wants Vriska to rip in to Harry Anderson or if she wants her to stay silent. To put off the moment where she has to defend him or join in.

Real interesting.  Like she’s caught between these worlds after all.

> (==>)

They say it was a long drive, but...?

...WOW.  What a chill, disinterested-looking affect his sprite makes for.  Huh.

He kisses Vrissy’s temple and she leans in to the warmth of him.

HARRY ANDERSON: aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. HARRY ANDERSON: so sorry it took so long. HARRY ANDERSON: can’t rush a heart to heart, you know how it is.

Stop making me deliberate whether you’re trying to drop teasing Heart-aspect hints.  You already know I’m going to be obsessively scrutinizing every word of dialogue around Harry to see if it fits, story. No need to rub it in.

VRISSY: You actually had a Heart to Heart with your dad? How many times did he Cry?

I DIDN’T EVEN READ THE NEXT LINE QUIT SAYING HEART TO HEART YOU EVEN GAVE IT PROPER CAPS THAT TIME

HARRY ANDERSON: but god, it was a mess. i had to keep talking to keep him from looking at his phone or turning on the radio. HARRY ANDERSON: i may have told him more about my deep passions and emotions in the last hour than the whole rest of my life combined, just to keep him from hearing the fucking news.

Holy shit.  You exploited conversation about your deep passions and interests for a separate goal???

Aaargh!  Classpect everywhere!  I’ve relapsed!!!  D:

> (==>)

JOHN IS SO HAPPY

John Egbert has not had a day like this in a very long time. He can barely keep track of this series of epiphanies he’s having. He stretches out on his couch to relax and process the gifts of advice and connection his friends and family and ex-family have just given him.

OH RIGHT TIME TO RUIN IT WITH MAXIMUM SHENANIGANS

JOHN: hey karkat! great timing! JOHN: so much just happened and im kind of reeling about it. KARKAT: YEAH NO SHIT.

Ohhhh.  Much of the time I hate dramatic irony, but those moments before someone is about to be let in on the discrepancy... oh man I love that.

JOHN: is something going on? i just spent the afternoon with my son, and i think he would have told me if something was up with his friends? KARKAT: OH MY LUSCIOUS SHITTING CHRIST JOHN LISTEN TO ME. JOHN: listening!

"Luscious”??  Did they try to type “Lusus” and get autocorrected?

Who’s writing Homestuck on their phone???

> (==>)

J...John?? Are you okay?? XD

This picture.  These two paragraphs.  I fucking love them.

(Wow, being closer to the “canon” story due to ridiculous shenanigans right after his back-to-back self-insights and outlook changes have really been healthy for him huh.  He can probably sense HS^2 reaching him out here.  And you can see the helpless comedian his probably-still-depressed ass became on Earth B in his reaction here. EDIT: Also, how appropriate that even by DYING, the Bard of Rage managed to fulfill his role and shatter the last vestiges of John's narrow-outlooked despair?)

John can’t answer. He can’t speak. His body has given itself over to the long-lost feeling of manic euphoria. It had felt like Harry Anderson was holding something back on the drive earlier, but he had already told John so much. He hadn’t wanted to press for more.

Yeah... after what John’s gone through across his life and session, finding out Harry managed to hide THIS for a whole car-ride is the best sort of punch-line for him.

John can’t breathe. Something is happening. Something is finally fucking happening, and he’s finally awake enough to appreciate it.

--yep.  I was just guessing earlier, but this kind of confirms it’s in part a closer-to-relevance, closer-to-canon feeling bleeding in.  Something is happening that’s important enough to SHOW onscreen and not skip over.  I guess he really does like being anchored in Light after all.

> (==>)

John wheezes himself into relative calm. He has to get Karkat to understand. He clears his throat and breathes.

JOHN: karkat, this can be how we win. JOHN: i know what we need to do.

...holy SHIT.

Karkat, how did you know calling JOHN about this would work out this well??

John actually taking confident action to solve a problem, in a way that isn’t going to end up depressing like his attempt to provide Tavros escape in the Epilogues... this should be interesting.

See you next time.  (I had to image-fix some stupid linked hat posts for this blogpost and I’m out of energy, so I’ll fix the other old post I promised that asker to fix in like, a day or two; I’ll post when I do.)

[alexconfusion]

1-100 please (I’m serious... or at least do like 20 of em. The first twenty. But I’d prefer them all)

Is this a challenge

1 Middle Name- Katherine

2 Age- 13 (yah I know I’m a baby blah blah blah shut up guys djskdjjd)

3 Birthday- May 8, 2006 (8:29am, to be exact)

4 Zodiac- sun: Taurus moon: Virgo, I believe

5 Fav Color- blue is my aesthetic but purple is my fav

6 My Lucky Number- five

7 Pets- two guinea pigs (ginny and lily), two dogs (bailey and maya) [i will provide pics if you want]

8 Where I’m From- Massachusetts

9 Height- 5’1

10 Shoe Size- eight

11 How Many Pairs of Shoes I Own- three

12 My Last Dream- Shane Dawson fixed my family issues and helped me come out to them (it was awesome, 10/10 would do again)

13 My Talents- piano (I have soundcloud check it out if u want), writing

14 Am I Psychic- HELL YEAH I AM shoot me an ask if u wanna know more cuz it’s kind of a long story (ok maybe not actually psychic but it’s a fun story)

15 Favorite Song- Amnesia - 5sos (it makes me cry every time and I don’t even care)

16 Favorite Movie- Into the Spider-Verse

17 My Ideal Partner - idk u tell me

18 Do I Want Kids?- potentially, but if I did I would adopt

19 Do I Want a Church Wedding- nah they look boring. I was part of the wedding party for my cousins wedding and it was absolute torture

20 Am I Religious- not really

21 Have I Ever Been to the Hospital- yeah, I was seven and stepped on glass at the beach (huge gash, kinda gorey, wouldn’t reccomend) anyways I didn’t know I cut my foot open at first and walked around the beach and a fuck ton of sand got in it (I had a very rough summer)

22 Have I Ever Been in Trouble With the Law- fuck no who do you think I am??

23 Have I Met any Celebrities- nope

24 Baths or Showers- showers duh, they’re good for so many things: crying, hair washing, pretending you’re standing in the rain,

25 What Color Socks am I Wearing- striped gray with blue owls (yes they are lit)

26 Have I Ever Been Famous- uh no

27 Would I Like to be a Celebrity?- sometimes I think it would be cool because if I make a lot of money I could help a lot of people, but usually no because having privacy is important to me

28 What Type of Music do I like- pretty much anything but acoustic versions have always had a special place in my heart

29 Have I Ever Been Skinny Dipping?- no gross

30 How Many Pillows do I Sleep With- one on each end of the bed so I can flip upside down and still have a pillow

31 What Position do I Sleep in-

(It’s comfy)

32 How Big is My House- two main floors, attic, basement

33 What do I Have for Breakfast- usually nothing, either because I slept through the normal breakfast time or because I didn’t have time to eat

34 Have I Ever Fired a Gun- no

35 Have I Ever Tried Archery?- Hell yeah I did, summer camp was a wild time almost shot someone in the face

36 Fav Clean Word- twilight

37 Fav Swear Word- fuck

38 Longest I’ve Ever Went Without Sleep- forty eight hours (those were two of the best days of my life btw)

39 Do I Have Any Scars- yeah

40 Have I Ever Had a Secret Admirer- nope but I wish

41 Am I a Good Liar- fantastic, actually

42 Am I a Good Judge of Character- what,, what does this mean??

43 Can I do Any Accents- I can do a really terrible British accent but nobody likes it

44 Do I Have a Strong Accent- nope

45 What is my Favorite Accent- Australian

46 What is my personality type- on the Myers Briggs test I’m an Adventurer (it’s creepily spot on, I highly recommend taking it)

47 My Most Expensive Piece of Clothing- Are vans clothing? If so my blue high top vans that I fucking adore. If not, probably my adidas shorts or something

48 Can I Curl My Tongue- I can do the classic fold in half one and the three leaf clover. look it up, it’s cool as hell

49 Am I am Innie or an Outie- innie

50 Right or Left Handed- right, but I’m ambidextrous when playing golf and I play lacross lefty

51 Am I Scared of Spiders- a little, not a phobia

52 Favorite Food- pears or frozen yogurt

53 Favorite Foreign Food- sushi

54 Am I a Clean or Messy Person- tbh it fluctuates but mostly clean. Like I myself am clean but my room is a wreck yknow

55 Most Used Phrase- “oh shit”

56 Most Used Word- oof

57 How Long do I Take to Get Ready- ten minutes, fifteen tops and five minimum

58 Do I Have an Ego- I don’t think so?

59 Do I Suck or Bite Lolipops- bite

60 Do I Talk to Myself- sometimes, it’s usually just strings of curse words

61 Do I Sing to Myself- yeah on occasion

62 Am I a Good Singer- no but my friends seem to think so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

63 Biggest Fear- losing everyone I care about/everyone I care about hating me

64 Am I a Gossip?- only if it’s not something serious and only to my closest friend

65 Best Dramatic Movie I’ve Seen- schindlers list, haven’t seen the whole thing (I’m kinda scared to) but it looks incredible even though it’s so horrific

66 Do I Like Long or Short Hair- I don’t really care, but I do kind of like longer hair on other people (i.e I like girls) (yes girls with short hair are awesome too but long/medium length hair is just.. yeah.)

67 Can I Name all 50 Stares of America- I could when I was 8 but now I can only list like 10

68 Favorite School Subject- English

69 (haha) Extrovert or Introvert- introvert

70 Have I Ever Been Scuba Diving- no and I don’t think I’d want to

71 What Makes Me Nervous- talking to people I don’t know

72 Am I Scared Of The Dark- not really. unless I like hear a noise and start imagining all the possible causes of the noise and freak myself out

73 Do I Correct People When They Make Mistakes- yeah sometimes, but I try to do it as nicely as I can (unless I don’t like the person *cough* my brother *cough*)

74 Am I Ticklish- yes. very.

75 Have I Ever Started a Rumor- no, but people thought I did and that was a whole mess

76 Have I Ever Been in a Position of Authority- I mean I was a captain when we played kickball in gym (does that count)

77 Have I Ever Drank Underage- nope, and I don’t intent to

78 Have I Ever Done Drugs- nope, and I don’t intend to

79 Who Was My First Real Crush- olivia, fifth grade. I pretended I had a crush on the guy next to her so I could stare at her and pretend I was looking at him

80 How Many Piercings Do I Have- none

81 Can I Roll My Rs- no matter how hard I try I can never seem to get the hang of it. and I’ve tried, believe me, I sound like an idiot every time but I still try

82 How Fast Can I Type- 135 wpm

83 How Fast Can I Run- Moderately fast, but not for very long

84 What Color is My Hair- dirty blonde

85 What Color Are My Eyes- they switch between gray, green, and blue, but they’re mostly a combination of all three with green being the most noticeable (I ask people this question a lot and they usually say blue or green)

86 What am I Allergic to- nothing I’m invincible.

87 Do I Keep a Journal- yup, eight years and counting. fun fact my first entry ever was a full two and a half pages about dolphin facts, complete with a picture

88 What do My Parents do- my moms a vet, idk what my dad does (it’s something with pharmaceuticals I think)

89 Do I Like My Age- eh on the one hand I can say I’m a teen but on the other people are like “omg!!! babey???? ur a babey omfg..”

90 What Makes Me Angry- when people are condescending or hypocritical

91 Do I Like My Name- I hate my first name (irl it’s not alex but I’ll probably end up changing it) and I hate my last name (long story) but I kinda like my middle name cuz it reminds me of Six

92 Have I Thought if Baby Names, if so What Are They- idk I’d probably name them after my friends (i.e hailey, lander, flan, drew, finn, that’s about it)

93 Do I Want a Boy or Girl For a Child- first of all when did I say I wanted a child and second of all I don’t care

94 What Are My Strengths- shitposts

95 What Are My Weaknesses- dealing with emotions, controlling anger, handling criticism, there are definitely others but I’m tired okay

96 How Did I Get My Name- first name: bible, middle name: my great grandmother, last name: my dad

97 Were My Ancestors Royalty- not that I know of

98 Do I Have Any Scars- see #39

99 What Color is My Bedspread- I don’t have one but my sheet is dark blue

100 What Color is My Room- a light blue teal-ish color

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 154: The Inevitable

Previously on BnHA: Even though the previous chapter ended with Deku arriving to punch Overhaul in the face, the majority of the chapter somehow was spent getting up to that moment which we’d already gotten up to! But finally it happened, and Aizawa, Nighteye, and Deku burst onto the scene. Nighteye gave Mirio a big ol’ hug and told him he did so good, and it was one of the few highlights of this arc, and so deserved. Deku and Aizawa went to apprehend Overhaul, but one of Overhaul’s Endless Minions woke up and used his quirk to basically paralyze Aizawa, so that Aizawa in turn was forced to blink and Overhaul was able to reactivate his own quirk. He proceeded to straight up murder his loyal right hand man and fuse their bodies together to form some kind of grotesque monstrosity, but like, it’s not even the good, interesting kind of grotesque. It’s just the same old Overhaul with some extra demon arms that’ve got big claws on ‘em, and now his mask is fused to his face like a demon bird beak as a bonus. Whatever. Nine seven chapters to go.

Today on BnHA: Overhaul revels in his new power-up and taunts Mirio a bit, mostly just to make sure everyone knows that his quirk is gone for good. Nighteye tells Deku to take Mirio and Eri and get them to safety while he holds Overhaul off. He thinks about everything he taught Mirio and how strong he became and how proud he is of him, and that all he wants to do right now is protect him and Eri. As Deku hauls Mirio and Eri away from the carnage, the narration starts talking about how Nighteye spent so much time desperately trying to change the futures he saw, but that it never worked no matter what he did. In spite of this, and in spite of knowing that his actions are merely “drawing out the inevitable”, he continues to fight Overhaul until he is brutally impaled on some more spikes. Enraged, Deku turns back, leaving Eri with Mirio, and activates One for All at 20%.

(As always, all comments not marked with an ETA are my unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter. I’ve read up through chapter 185 now, so any ETAs will reflect that. Posting this a few hours early since I won’t be able to later this evening.)

fun fact, Fallen Angels/Jaimini’s Box doesn’t have this chapter translated on their site. in fact they don’t have any chapters translated from 154 all the way until 167. I can only assume they were getting as sick of this shit as I am. can’t even blame them for bailing

so Mangastream, that leaves just you. the brave souls who stuck it out till the bitter end. you guys are the real heroes academia

unfortunately the FA scans were also the cleaner scans, so now we’ll have to deal with these kind of dark, smudgy-looking pages. on the bright side, if you squint you can almost pretend like what’s happening on the page is actually interesting

sorry to rag on you before you even get started, chapter. but let’s not kid ourselves here

so Overhaul says he’s in a bad mood but “this is a little better”

and the text is all “that form... grotesque!” but again, it’s just his normal form with a couple extra demon arms. nothing we haven’t seen from Shouji or Tokoyami. do you guys remember Shouji and Tokoyami. good kids. wonder whatever happened to ‘em

Deku is like clinging to one of the floor spikes and trying to assess the situation

oh?

if Aizawa gets a one-on-one fight with that guy it had better be sick as hell. do NOT fuck around with my Aizawa fight. I will not forgive you

(ETA: does it count as fucking around with my Aizawa fight if we don’t even get an Aizawa fight. given how they probably would have managed to make even that inexplicably bad, it’s probably for the best that we didn’t get this in the end.)

Overhaul is monologuing about how germophobic he is and how this is the first time he’s been pushed to this point

oh shit he’s bringing out the big guns

did Mirio even know that his quirk was gone forever? up until this point he had no reason to assume the effect wouldn’t just be the same as with Tamaki. he really drew the short end of the stick. poor baby

oh here’re the rest of the bullets

-- excuse me, they’re the ones dragging this out?? WHO WAS IT THAT ORDERED HIS SUBORDINATES TO CREATE A NEVERENDING MAZE OF MEDIOCRE SECOND TIER VILLAINS

now he says Mirio has gotten all his friends mixed up in this and that they’re all gonna die

why does he keep taunting Mirio even though he’s already basically out for the count. still sore about how badly he fucked you up huh buddy. you prick

Mirio is all

um, yes way. he was torturing a six-year-old on a regular basis just to make no-quirk juice. he doesn’t even have a deep-seeded reason for it as far as I can see. he’s just in the mob and wants to make money. and even his boss was all “dude I get that you wanna make bank, but that plan is too fucked up even for us.” but he went and did it anyway

so yeah, I don’t know why anyone’s surprised that he’s cool with callously murdering his own subordinates, or why that of all things would somehow be the straw that broke the camel’s back

here comes Deku again!

did he throw that spike at him? nice

he caught it, and it did nothing, but still. nice

he’s grabbing another one! and thinking of Mirio!

stab him in the face Deku. do it for senpai

you know who I miss? fucking Stain. I miss him so much. I’ll never say a word against him again. that’s a lie but my god it’s like how you weirdly appreciate George W. just a little more after dealing with Trump. even though W. was just the worst. still so bad. but like, it gives you a new sense of scale and an understanding that no matter how bad things are, they can always get just a little bit worse

anyway, Deku’s diving in still but Overhaul is creating more spikes, this time from his hands

they’re crumbling upon impact with Deku’s kicks, but he’s thinking that if it weren’t for his iron soles he’d have been done in just now

I’m sorry are those things not impressive? what else do you need? he’s got smarts too, for what it’s worth

what in the

was that another one of his stamps?? Nighteye is such a freak

yep. look at this

take that bitch. I’m gonna sign for you like a package from Fedex

we’re now flashing back to a conversation they had while running in the hallway for those five long hours

“don’t you DARE fucking break your bones again you little punk”

Nighteye’s asking what Overhaul did with Aizawa

oh shit this is the first interesting thing Overhaul has said in ages

(ETA: so what a surprise that absolutely nothing came of it)

yeah, I bet he’s interested. oh shit. so now he’s whisked him off to the “VIP room.” what’s in there, caviar and high-stakes poker tables?

you guys. Nighteye is piiiiiiiiiiiissed

yeah for real. because he used the permabullets even though he only had five of them. I was wondering about that too

now Overhaul is disintegrating his two right arms. what are you playing at now

look how fucking weirdly Nighteye dodges

the hell kind of dodge is this

Overhaul is thinking he’s not particularly fast, but that his movements are similar to Lemillion’s. “so this guy’s the teacher...”

Nighteye’s flashing back to Mirio’s internship when he explained to him that by accumulating experience he would learn how to predict people’s actions and move accordingly

I’m so sorry this asshole took your son’s quirk Nighteye

all right so now Deku’s reached Mirio and Eri and he’s asking if they can move

Mirio’s all “no sweat” ffff

ffffffffffffffffff

baby sweetie honey nooo shhhh. don’t apologize for being sad that he forcibly destroyed a part of you. something that was unique and that you worked so hard to perfect and that was going to lead you toward your dreams. fuck. you’re allowed to be fucking bummed out kiddo. it’s gonna be okay

so Deku’s grabbing them all and he’s kicking open the path that Overhaul just tried to close up again

and now Eri is clutching at him and crying ffffffffffffff

THIS IS NOT OKAY. HORIKOSHI!!! COME THE FUCK ON. WHAT IS THIS

and Mirio’s looking back over his shoulder as they retreat, and he seems to have seen something troubling oh shit

this is all very interesting, but I thought he could only do one person a day? I still don’t fucking get how his power works in combat

(ETA: as the next page clarifies, I guess he used it on Overhaul and that’s how he saw himself and Deku dying at Overhaul’s hands. and this must mean it’s been more than 24 hours since he used it on the babysitter guy. and this is also why it takes him a full day to die afterwards, so that he can live just long enough to look into Mirio’s future one last time. ...fuck me why am I thinking about that noooo)

OH SHIT!?!?

WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT. “THE INEVITABLE”!?!?

WHAT THE FUCK

DID THEY JUST FUCKING KILL NIGHTEYE WHAT THE FUCK

AT THE VERY LEAST WE ALL AGREE HIS ARM IS GONE, YES. STRAIGHT UP NO LONGER GOT A LEFT ARM

HOLY FUCK

AHHHHHHH EVERYTHING JUST SUDDENLY WENT BLACK

AND HIS EYES ARE LIKE

I’M FREAKING OUT!!?!?!?!?!

DEKU’S LOOKING BACK TOWARD THE SCENE AND HE’S TOTALLY BUGEYED

OVERHAUL IS SENDING SPIKES THEIR WAY

HOLY SHIT DEKU!?!?

OH SHIT

DEKU BE CAREFUL OF YOUR LIMBS!! ALSO YOU’RE THE BEST, HOLY FUCKING SHIT

even Overhaul has abruptly stopped his endless spike attacks and is now resorting to cautious trash talk

oh shit

CALL BACK TO THE ALL MIGHT PROPHECY OH SNAPPPPPP

DEKU YOU ARE SO COOL JESUS CHRIST THIS WAS SUCH A COOL MOMENT. I FORGOT THE MANGA COULD DO THAT

WAS IT WORTH 900 CHAPTERS OF BULLSHIT? AND MIRIO LOSING HIS QUIRK? AND NIGHTEYE FUCKING DYING FUCKING JESUS CHRIST? NO

BUT GOD IT’S SOMETHING, AND THAT SOMETHING IS ADMITTEDLY PRETTY COOL

I swear to god if he loses even with this. just...

just remember Deku. Nighteye literally died for this shit. probably. oh my godddddd

no bonus. because I’m pretty sure the next omake is supposed to go with tomorrow’s chapter. it’s really hard to figure this out tbh. but I guess I should be grateful that we even still have translated omakes right now, since even that will come to an end once we hit chapter 167. enjoy it while it lasts I guess

[love-and-gloom-blog]

Love and Gloom Chapter One

Rating: T for Teen

Contains: Adult language and situations

Summary: New York City there is thousands of people inhabiting it, including aliens, heroes, and villains. Mara and Neil, two college students attempt to survive this city. Both coming from broken homes, their hearts struggle to heal. They will soon encounter all sorts of people who are just as broken as them, but will their hearts grow stronger or break them down even more? 

Main Pairing(s): Female OC x Eddie Brock/Venom - Male OC x Max Dillon/Electro

We hope you enjoy. <3

Chapter One: Mara Lovell

It was a cool October night when Mara Lovell and Neil Yūutsu finally brought up the last box into Mara’s new studio apartment in Vinegar Hill, Brooklyn. The brunette woman had finally left her abusive household and was now living on her own.

It terrified her.

As she took a long look around the apartment, she felt a strange mix of both anxiousness and relieving freedom in the lived-in flat. As she took it all in, the sound of a box dropping to the floor snapped her back to reality. “Finally we are done!” Neil stated and sat on one of the boxes containing books, wiping a tiny bead of sweat off his brow. “Your punk ass mother had to make things difficult by being all ‘woe is me, my daughter is leaving’ and shit.” He reached over to the counter top next to him, grabbing one of the many cans of his Tiki Punch he brought for what he called a ‘test of his strength and endurance’.

Mara rolled her eyes at him and sat on a box across from him. “Yeah… but thankfully we won’t have to deal with her anymore.” She said both ashamed and exhausted.

“No… YOU won’t have to deal with her anymore. Bitch ain’t gon’ try me again like she did today.” He said as he took a sip of the maroon-colored drink, earning another chuckle from the brunette.

Roxanne Red Lovell, formally Roxanne Red Stewart, now known as ‘punk ass mother’ by Neil, stopped Mara from getting most of her things from her mother’s house.

“I bought you those clothes, so they’re mine!” Her mother would yell, “The furniture too! Your father left it to me not you!”

“Vernon is gonna kick your ass if you talk shit about him just you remember that!”

Vernon was Roxanne’s boyfriend for thirteen years now. He was a meth head that frequently got high around the house, and took ecstasy with his friends which often included Roxanne. He did nothing for a living, just lived off of social security income for a reason that Mara didn’t care enough to find out about.

Mara looked over at a box of clothing sitting on the slightly worn couch. They were clothes that Helen Stacy had given her.

Helen was the mother of her best friends; Gwen Stacy. Helen gave the young college student Gwen’s old clothes when she heard that Mara was moving out.

“She doesn’t need these anymore… She’ll want you to have them.”

Gwen… It’s been a year since she died. The day that she was kidnapped by the mad supervillain, ‘The Green Goblin’, was one that Mara would never forget. Ludicrous name. He kidnapped her and threw her off the George Washington Bridge. The hero ‘Spiderman’, tried saving her but he ended up being the one who caused her death. The string of webbing he shot to save her caught her by the leg mid-fall, and the sudden stop broke her neck. Mara didn’t blame the Spider-Man for killing her friend as she would’ve died from the fall anyway, but she was not a fan of the wallcrawler either.

Her friend took a glance at his watch before standing up and taking a stretch, “I gotta head to work now, Sugar, they really need me tonight. Sorry that I have to leave so soon.”

Mara’s reminiscing was cut off by this, and she looked up at her bestie with her silver eyes, “No no! Don’t be sorry! Thank you for helping me with all of this.” She stood up and opened the box of Gwen’s clothes. “I know I can be a nuisance someti-.”

“You are not a nuisance, your mom is.” He interrupted as he walked over to hug her tightly, “Are you sure you don’t wanna just live with me and not alone?”

She smiled and hugged him back with a giggle, “I need to take care of myself for the time being.” The brunette then gave him a wink. “I appreciate the offer though.”

They let go of each other and walked towards the door.

“I understaaaand.” The Japanese student said as he shrugged his shoulders took a step out the opened front door. He turned around and smiled at his friend, “Take care of yourself, darlin’. Call me if you need anything okay?”

The French American smiled and stood in the doorway, “You know I will, take care. I love you.”

“Love you too girl. Byyye.” He said, throwing a peace sign above his head as he sauntered away down the hall.

Mara watched him before he turned the corner out of sight. She closes her apartment door and sighs, leaning back against it. She was finally free of her mother. After a moment of basking in her freedom, the woman grabbed her phone, adorned with a pink case with lizard designs, to check the time.

6:10 pm

“I guess I should organize a little before making dinner.” She said to herself before putting her phone back in her pocket, pushing herself off of the door, and walking back to stack of boxes to unpack.

⧫⧫⧫

The next hour or so yielded some progress. One of the boxes she worked on contained literature she loved to read. Some included the Great Gatsby, A Little Princess, and of course Romeo and Juliet. She was quite fond of reading fantasy and romance novels, as she could easily escape her reality by diving into the pages for hours at a time. The college student looked across the room near one of the wide, worn windows and found the small old shelf Neil gave her as a moving gift. Smiling softly at its presence, she pushed it to the wall before stocking it with books.

One of the books slipped from her hands, the pages fluttering in the air before hitting the ground and expelling a small photo she once used as a bookmark. She hesitated, seeing that it was a book Gwen had given her a long time ago as a birthday present. Mara picked up the photo to see Neil, Gwen, and herself, smiling happily in front of one of the stone lions at the library. Looking down at the page the photo fell from, she read one of the quotes.

"’Why did you do all this for me?’ he asked. ‘I don't deserve it. I've never done anything for you. ’You have been my friend," replied Charlotte. ‘That in itself is a tremendous thing.’”

As a teardrop fell and darkened on the page, Mara quickly put the picture back in the book and put it away.

“No, no… I can’t think about her now…” The brunette thought to herself sadly. She promised herself she wasn’t going to cry anymore.

“Let’s room together Mara, it’ll be fun. We can stay up all night watching Netflix with no curfew!”

Gwen was silly around her. Gwen was nice. Gwen was cool. Gwen was beautiful. Gwen was smart. Gwen was her best friend.

Gwen was alive…

The woman took the picture back out from the book and placed it up on the shelf, “We got our apartment Gwen. Just like you wanted.”

Tears filled her eyes and her heart felt heavy, “I always wanted to share this moment with you.” Her tears rolled down her face before she left the bookcase and went to her other boxes.

She opened another box and found her black case containing her glasses. Mara was colorblind, she had tritanopia meaning she was blue and yellow blind. She opened the case to see her broken glasses only containing one lens. It broke when Vernon threw them on the floor and crushed them because he was angry at her. Mad at her for what? She thinks it was because he thought she took his last beer when he was holding it in his hand.

He was also the reason she was colorblind. Mara used to see normal color but it all changed when Vernon came into the picture.

⧫⧫⧫

When Mara was little and still lived in California, she picked golden daisies for her mother. They were Roxanne’s favorite, because she loved the color yellow but mostly because it came from her one and only daughter.

Around the time she was six, her mother and father divorced. At seven, Roxanne took her to live in New York to be far away from her father as possible. The mother took care for her child till she found Vernon and sadly Roxanne was a weak woman. She felt like she needed a man in her life to show her affection. When Mara was eight Vernon moved into their house, he used to be nice till he moved in of course.

One day when the eight year old was walking home from school she found some golden daisies and picked them for her mom. It was a nice day, school was fun, and her artwork was placed on the classroom’s wall. What a great day it was.

But when she got home Vernon was screaming in front of the house with a beer bottle in his hand. Mara was scared but she slowly walked towards him.

“Where the fuck is it then!? Where the fuck is my lottery ticket!?” He screamed stumbling around, “It had fifty fucking dollars on it!”

He then spotted the little girl and had a realization.

“You.”

She turned her head to look behind her, confused, she looked back at him. Her?

“You.” He pointed at little Mara with the hand that held the beer, “You took it you little shit!”

“No I didn’t.” She said scared.

“Don’t you dare lie to me!” He shouted grabbing her by the hair.

The girl screamed dropping the flowers for her mother on the ground and grabbed his hand, trying to pry it off of her brown hair. But that made him angrier. He smacked her head with the bottle which made her call out in pain and collapsed on her knees.

“MOMMY!!” She cried as she felt hot and cold liquid roll down her face.

Roxanne came out smoking a cigarette, disinterested but mildly annoyed.

“What?” She said plainly.

“MAKE HIM STOP!”

“Just give him his lottery ticket you fucking idiot.”

Mara’s eyes widened. What? Why wasn’t mommy helping her? Why would they think a eight year old took a lottery ticket? What did she do wrong?

“Yeah!” Vernon shouted, dragging her to the wooden beam and smacked her head on it. “Where is it!?”

The little girl saw stars.

He smacked her again, “Where is it you little shit!?”

Everything was fading away in black clouds.

Again it happened, shouting the same thing.

Blood dripped to the ground and vomit oozed from her mouth. Today was supposed to be a good day.

The little girl’s body went limp and her eyes went completely black.

She woke up in a hospital bed. Bandages wrapped around her head. Everything looked weird, the colors seemed off. She looked around to see a doctor talking to her mother.

“Your daughter was attacked when she was walking home? Where were you?” The lady asked.

“I was getting groceries with my boyfriend and I found my child on the floor doctor!” Roxanne said with tears rolling down her place, “Why would someone do this to a child!? I should’ve walked her home, but the school is just right across the street!”

She was lying. Why would a mother let that happen to a child?

Mara blacked out again, later she found out she went color blind. The head injury caused it. Vernon caused it, for a fifty dollar lottery ticket that he hid in his sock drawer the whole time.

Her world went grey, because of a stupid mistake and her mother didn’t help her.

The golden daisies turned white and she never picked them for her mother again.

⧫⧫⧫

Mara slammed the case and glasses onto the ground in anger. She shouldn’t be remembering these bad times. She grabbed her phone to check the time again.

7:08 pm

“Food will make me feel better.” She said and looked through a box to find her rice cooker. She went to her small kitchen to place it on the counter and plugged it in. She filled the cooker halfway with water and placed three packets of ramen noodles in it. She closed it and put it to cook.

The colorblind girl looked around her small empty kitchen and then looked at the ramen, she wondered if the kitchen was going to get any use. It was most likely she’ll only eat instant ramen for a few months since she’s broke.

Money is saved up in her bank account, but for only a few months of rent. Some of her money was from her father who passed away when she was twenty. Her rent is only $800 a month, which is pretty cheap thank god, but the landlord will raise it to $850 around December.

If she is careful and save while working at her new job at a singing cafe called, ‘Purely Purple’, she should be A-OK.

“I’m going to die.” Mara mumbled as she sat on one of her boxes and waited for her rice cooker ramen to finish cooking.

⧫⧫⧫

After she ate, Mara went back to unpacking. She unpacked her art supplies, her art, framed posters, pictures, she stopped unpacking when she found her scrapbook. The book was tan and had red text painted on it (it looked pink to Mara). The text was a quote from a book that she hadn’t read yet it said, “Maybe Memories Should Be Left The Way They Are.”

One would think the scrapbook would contain pictures of friends, but it contained newspaper clippings from the Midtown High School, the Daily Globe, and the Daily Bugle. Why? Because the articles were written by a man who she had a crush on since high school, Edward Charles Alan Brock. Mara had articles from Welcome to Midtown High! to Confessions of a Sin Eater. The college student always liked his writing, she buys a newspaper everyday just to see if he had written anything but the last few days she hadn’t bought any because of her moving situation. Maybe she could ask her friend Peter Parker if he could get them for her since he worked at the Daily Bugle as well.

Mara smiled as she went through the articles. Eddie Brock was and still is very popular with everyone, to her he was perfect in every way, but that could be that she’s in love. She imagined being with him but never attempted to actually ask him out, mostly because he already had his perfect girlfriend Anne Weying. Well… ex girlfriend now, they broke up two years ago.

Anne was Eddie’s life, he wanted to marry her and everyone knew that but Anne wanted to finish up school first before they do that. No one knows exactly why they broke up though. One would say that if you like him just ask him out, but Mara was a very shy person with very low self esteem, she doesn’t feel she was good enough for Eddie. Anne was an amazing girl, and how do you ask someone out who was set to marry the girl of his dreams? Was there a time of grief he still needed to do? Romantic relationships was indeed not her forte.

Mara wondered why he wasn’t dating anyone, maybe Anne was his one and only? Eddie was very handsome, goes to school, works at the Daily Bugle as a writer and part-time photographer. He’s a former football player, but when he stopped playing two years ago he gained some weight, he now has a belly and his cheeks were a bit chubby, yet he was still beautiful to the colored blind girl.

She flipped a page and saw the poem she wrote in high school, My Dear Football Player.

⧫⧫⧫

My Dear Football Player

My dear football player how I love you so.

The way you look at me and make my cheeks glow.

Sweet eyes like stained glass.

That turns me into brass.

My love for you is but a prayer.

To hug and hold my dear football player.

In a black and white world your are most colorful.

And your smile is bright and so so meaningful.

If only you could be mine.

But someone else promised to love you till the end of time.

I just smile and wave.

And cherish the happiness you gave.

To me you are the world.

To you I am just an ordinary girl.

In the shadows I watch you craft.

And mourn for the dear football player I will never have.

Grey is my world, color is yours.

My eyes grow tired as the salt water pours.

I hate to say goodbye dear football player.

But I will never be yours, not even in my hopeful prayer.

-Midtown’s Silly Lizard

⧫⧫⧫

Midtown’s Silly Lizard was a secret name when she anonymously sent poems for the school newspaper. The name had her initials on them.

Midtown Mara

Silly Stewart

Lizard Lovell

Though the student doesn’t have a middle name, she used her dad’s last name Stewart, which helped throw people off her trail, because the teens in that school wanted to know who made that pathetic love poem. Flash Thompson assumed the poem was about him and the girlfriend was Liz Allen. The witch hunt only lasted about a week and everyone forgot about it.

The only people who knew about it was Neil and Gwen. They encouraged her to show her more artistic side to the school, but the shy girl decided she would rather do it actual art form and not writing.

The brunette yawned and then checked her phone for the time.

10:53 pm

“I should get ready for bed.” She said softly to herself and looked around, she pretty much organized everything. She just needed a dresser for her clothes and she’ll be set.

Mara put her scrapbook in her shelf and grabbed the air mattress Neil bought her (that she will pay him back for later) and started to inflate it. When it was done she grabbed her African patterned quilt that her old lady friend Fae Miller made for her and grabbed one of her pillows, and placed them on the mattress. The curvy woman stripped to only her underwear and shirt and snuggled into the bed.

⧫⧫⧫

Meanwhile in a facility in Newfield, New York.

“MIRANDA! MIRANDA!” A scratchy voice called out.

“Yes LouLou?” A young woman said in a doctor’s coat and holding a clipboard.

“MARA LOVELL MOVED. RESEND INVITATION.” The voice said.

The woman pressed her reading glasses back and walked over to the computer, “Thank you for telling me.” She typed on the keyboard and accessed into the system to go into Mara’s files.

Name: Mara Stewart-Lovell

DOB: 06/21/**

Height: 5’5

Weight: 158 lbs

Hair: brown

Eyes: silver

Social: ***-**-****

Address: 300 Quincy Street, Brooklyn, New York, 11216

Work: Purely Purple, 631 9th Ave, New York, NY 10036

School: Empire State University

Major: Fine/Studio Arts

Relative(s): Roxanne Red Lovell-mother

Disorder(s): tritanopia-color blindness

“Oh so she moved to Brooklyn?” The woman said before printing out her letter, “Nice place. Hope she isn’t with her mother, horrible woman according to my research.”

A green parrot flew and landed on her right shoulder, “HORRIBLE HORRIBLE! BAD MOTHER BAD!”

The researcher shushed the bird as she grabbed the piece of paper from the printer and wrote her signature.

“LouLou.” She said as she placed it in an envelope, “Give this to Richard.”

Green slime came out the bird and grabbed the envelope, it then slithered out the parrot which made the pet flapped its wings rapidly. The green ooze shaped itself to look like a slithering imp and skittered away.

“Hi.” The bird squawked and nibbled her hair, it can’t say proper sentences without its parasitic friend.

“Mara Lovell, with your help we can change the world.”

“Change!” The bird squawked earning a smile from the woman.

“Yes, for a better world.” She said as she softly patted her parrot’s head.

⧫⧫⧫

As Mara slept she started to dream.

The silver eyed girl was sitting on a bench at Central Park. She breathed in the fresh air and smelled the fresh cut grass and hotdogs being sold around her. It was peaceful.

She then saw her friend Neil in the middle of the field with Gwen Stacy and Peter Parker. Mara smiled brightly as she went to get up and run to her friends but she couldn’t move.

A look of puzzlement spread on her face as she looked down to see she was chained to the bench. This struck fear inside her as she tried to yell for help but a breathless screamed came out, no one could hear the poor girl.

She tried to yell again but again no one heard and she started to sink into the concrete. She screamed but only a squeak came out before she was completely emerged in the darkness.

Mara tried to wake up, she struggled to breathe. Her limbs felt stiff and all she could muster is a  twitch now again.

“Is this how people die?” She thought before realizing she was now in a dark room on a bed.

The woman got off the bed and noticed she was naked and when she looked at her body she was filled with large holes. Her body ached where the holes were, like she actually felt her body rot away.

The woman got off the bed and walked to the door and once she opened it, she appeared in the hallways of Midtown High School.

She looked around and saw some people she knew. The girl walked down the hall exposed and saw what they were doing. The high school jock Flash Thompson was making out with his girlfriend in high school Liz Allen and right next to them were Peter Parker and Gwen Stacy making out also. The boys however didn’t have their eyes closed like their partners, they were staring at a naked Mary Jane Watson who was laying sensually on the floor. The red head smiled confidently with her eyes closed as she laid there.

“Mary Jane!” Mara cried out and grabbed her arm, “Don’t let them look at you like that!”

Mary Jane opened her green eyes and glared at the empty girl, “Don’t be jealous that I receive the attention and you don’t. You are disgusting.”

“Mary Jane I know I am but you shouldn’t expose yourself like this!” The dreamer said almost in tears.

The iris’ in her friend’s eyes enlarged as she said, “You’re the one hiding secrets.”

⧫⧫⧫

Mara woke up in cold sweat.

“Oh god.” She mumbled sitting up and rubbed her aching arms. Mara could still feel where the holes were on her body. The dream was confusing and surreal, she didn’t understand it. What did dream Mary Jane meant about ‘hiding secrets’, Mara didn’t have secrets…

“I don’t have secrets…” She murmured.

(She was in love with Gwen Stacy, that was a dirty secret.)

She lied, she did have secrets. Secrets the college student tried to hide.

(She’s hopelessly in love with Eddie Brock.)

“I have no secrets.” She told herself and laid back down.

(She fell for a person who scammed her.)

Mara was embarrassed about her secrets. Some of them she knows that Neil knew, but there was one she keeps from everyone.

(She thinks she deserved the abuse her mother and Vernon gave her.)

“This move stressed me out more than I thought.” She said as she laid on her side and went back to sleep.

(And the biggest secret of them all… she is broken.)

⧫⧫⧫

Mara woke up around 11:00 am. She missed a few texts from Neil and her friend Alma Alvarado. She yawned as she opened her texts.

Neil: Hey gurllllll. Got you dumplings. Come over when you can. (sent: 1:22 am)

Mara smiled, her best friend was so kind.

Alma: Hey, can you watch Kima Tuesday? I’m going to a party. Thx. (sent: 6:00 am)

“Huh? Alma I just moved in…” Mara muttered to her phone and quickly laid back down, “I don’t have time for that…” She fell back to sleep.

Then her phone rang. It played Please Don’t Make Me Love You from the Dracula musical. She groaned as she grabbed her phone to check the caller I.D. It was Neil. She picked up the phone and yawned, “Hello?” “Girl! It is 11:30, get your ass over here and eat your dumplings!” He stated over the phone.

Mara rolled on her side and stretched, “Okay, I’ll bike there in a few minutes.”

“Kay, don’t keep me waiting. I’m making breakfast.” The Asian said sweetly.

“Make coffee too please.” She said sitting up from the air matress. “I don’t drink coffee, there is no coffee.” Neil said, “I have juice.” “Aw. Learn how to drink coffee.”

“Learn how to live without coffee.”

“I can’t, it’s my essence.”

“Then find a new one.”

“I’m getting dressed right now, I should be there in an hour.” The woman said sitting up and looked for clothes to wear.

“Kay, I’ll be waiting. Love you.” “Love you too baby bugga boo.”

Neil hung up.

Mara looked through Gwen’s old clothes. She could almost still smell Gwen’s perfume on them.

“Thanks, Gwen…” She muttered and took out a green and black striped blouse, a pair of blue jeans, a red belt, a pair of green socks, and a pair of black sneakers.

“No underwear or bras…” She mumbled, “I need to buy some.”

The brunette got undressed and wore the outfit she picked out (without undergarments) and then brushed her hair. She then grabbed Gwen’s signature black headband and placed it in her hair. When she looked at herself in the mirror, she saw Gwen.

“This is creepy… I look like an obsessed stalker.”

Perhaps she was, but who stalks a dead girl?

Mara grabbed her phone to check the time. 12:03 pm

“I gotta go.” She thought to herself, grabbing her old brown leather bookbag and old white bicycle and head out of the flat. The woman placed the bag in the basket before rolling it down in the hallway towards the elevator. Once she went down she left the building and started biking to her friend’s apartment.

⧫⧫⧫

It was a nice day for a bike ride in New York. It was sunny but wasn’t too hot, there was a slight breeze. What a nice day to go biking.

She smiled as she turned into an alleyway to avoid the streetlights. When Mara was halfway down two men came out from a doorway from the wall and stood in the way.

“Oh shit..!” She muttered knowing the men planned to mug her, the alley was too narrow for her to turn her bike around so she quickly got off, snatched her bag, and ran.

But there was a man behind her.

“Hey little lady, where you think you’re going?” The man asked taking steps towards her making Mara take steps back.

“Please just let me go.” The woman said scared.

“What? Let you go?” The second man behind her said. “Why was a lovely young lady like you going down in a old alleyway anyway?” The third man said smirking, “Just screaming for someone to grab you.”

Mara took a deep breathe and gathered all the courage she could muster and yelled, “Leave me alone!”

The man in front of her laughed, “Did you hear that boys? She’s being so rude to us! Should we punish her?”

Hearing that her body felt numb. She had to escape. Mara attempted to run past the man in front of her but her just grabbed her and his friends rushed behind her.

“Oh no, you can’t leave.” He stated.

Mara struggled and yelled, “LET ME GO!”

One of the men behind her covered her mouth and whispered harshly, “Not till we have fun with you girlie!”

“That’s what you think!” Someone said, but it didn’t sound like a person, it sounded like a monster.

A figure jumped off the wall and landed on its feet. The three men stumbled back and screamed in fear, Mara’s eyes widened, it really WAS a monster.

It was seven feet tall and huge! It’s skin looked like black tar smoothed on a bodybuilder’s body, with a large white spider printed on it chest. The monster’s teeth were razor sharp with large amounts of saliva oozing from its mouth, it had what seemed like a permanent, demonic smile, and its eyes were pure white blotches, emotionless, but so sinister looking. Its stare just pierced the souls of the four humans in front of it.

“Despicable villains, threatening an innocent! We hate scum like you!” The monster stated lifting its muscular arm up and shot white webbing at the chest of the criminal standing in front of Mara, and pulled him fiercely towards him. The man screamed before the monster punched him in the face, knocking the man out stone cold and fall to the floor.

“O-Oh my God..!” Mara thought shaking staring at man that fell to the ground, he didn’t move, was he dead?

“LET’S GET OUT OF HERE!” One of the men shouted, before he and his friend started to run the opposite of the demonic spider.

Mara wanted to run but she was petrified. What did this demon want with them?

“Not so fast!” The creature said shooting webs from its hands again. The webbing wrapped around the men’s legs and it pulled them harshly, making them scream as they fell face flat on the ground. Then the monster started to drag them towards it, “We’re not done with you quite yet!”

“Oh God please--! Someone help us!” One of the men shouted as they were dragged.

The other man clinged onto the college student’s leg tightly making her yelp as she fell on the floor and dragged with them.

The monster sneered as he snatched the man who held onto Mara away, forcing him to let go of her.

“You scum! It is too late for you to beg for help, you poltroon!” The monster stated before its long slimy tongue slipped out of it mouth and licked the scared criminal’s cheek, “Did you know we like brains?”

“Brains!?” Mara thought horrified covering her mouth with her hands.

The man stared at him terrified, tears leaked from his eyes, and his heart felt like it was going to pound out of his chest, “P-Please! I-I’m s-s-sorry!”

“Too late for atonements we’re afraid.” The monster said simply as it’s oily skin crawled onto the man’s face and covered in completely, “Hurting the innocent is the most hideous sin, my boy.”

The woman and the other man watched in horror as the man struggled and thrashed in midair. He kept struggling till he went limp and the spider man dropped him to the ground.

Limp and lifeless, just like his friend next to him.

The last man was shaking, he and the girl next to him couldn’t comprehend what exactly was happening. A strong smell waft through the air, it smelled like urine. Mara looked at the man next to her, he pissed himself. Oh God, it was so weird seeing criminals being scared shitless… Well… pissless.

“Now for the last one.” The monster said glaring down at the two humans under it. It squatted down over the piss soaked man with its tongue out, “Mmm-Mm-Mm! We can’t wait to eat your brains.”

The man just shook in fear as the monster’s tongue and gave him a lick on his cheek. The third and last criminal fainted making the behemoth chuckle. It the grabbed the man’s body and and sprayed webbing on him to stick the man to the wall.

“Miscreants like you should not be done with so easily.” It said grabbing the other men and webbed them to the wall, “But we have to tend to the lady.”

“Tend to the lady!?” Mara thought as the monster turned to her, its eyes pierced her soul. When it took a step towards her, she got up and booked it. She did not want to die this way.

“Wait! Mara! Don’t be scared!” The creature shouted with its long muscular arm reaching out towards her.

Her mind went blank. It knew her name!? Distracted from her own confusion the young woman tripped over her bike and fell hard on the floor. Her bookbag slid away from her and Gwen’s headband fell off of her head. She felt pain on her right arm as she struggled to get up.

Mara then felt strong hands grab her from her waist and lift her up gently to her feet. Once the hands let her go she turned around to look at her savior.

“Who are you?”

“Sorry for being rude.” The monster said patting the top of her head, “We’re Venom.”

“Ve-Venom?” She whispered before remembering seeing him in newspapers.

Venom Lethal Protector! Venom the Alien Menace! Spiderman and Venom: Arachnids of New York!

“The… The Lethal Protector?”

The creature couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. 

“We see you’ve read the papers...” He said shaking his head, “...We don’t care for that title much.” The monster looked back up at the woman before noticing the scrape on her arm, “Poor thing. Here.” Venom then grabbed her arm and webbed the wound. “That’ll help it heal.”

“O-Oh…” Mara said rubbing her arm, “Thank you.”

“Where are you heading to?” He asked picking up her bookbag and headband.

“Crown Heights.” She answered as he gave her back her bag. She wore it over her shoulder.

“That’s not far from here, we’ll give you a lift.” He then placed the headband on her head.

The woman blushed and shook her head, “No that’s okay. I have my bike.”

“Nonsense.” The alien said grabbing her bike and webbed it to the wall, “We insist. We will take your bike home afterwards.”

“I appreciate the offer but---” She said as Venom lifted her up, “Ahhh!”

“We’ll get you there in no time.” He embraced her making her wrap her legs around his waist.

“S-Sir. I can go by myself.” Mara said before the black alien walked on the wall making her stare at the ground as they got higher and higher. She tried to find an excuse for him to put her back down, “Venom, we can’t just leave the men there!”

“The law enforcement will handle them.” He said simply as they reached the top of the building, “Hold on tight Mara.”

He then jumped from the building, making the college student close her eyes and held onto the spider for dear life. She felt his cold smooth skin against hers as he swung building to building. It was hard but yet he could expand it, like he was made of liquid marble.

To most people who didn’t live in New York would think that was ridiculous, but when you live in a city that had men made of sand, water, and electricity. So marble skin that could stretch wasn’t too far fetched.

They were both silent for a few minutes before, well the alien was singing a song. Mara believed the song was Mr. Telephone Man by New Edition. It was odd hearing a sweet song being sung by a deep voiced monster. It was terrifying.

When Venom finished his song he started humming. Curious of where she was, she opened her eyes to see the streets below her. Mara gasped and clenched her eyes back shut and wrapped her arms and legs tighter around her transporter.

The spider gave an awkward grunt as he continued to swing building to building, “Afraid of heights?”

“No… Just falling. (To my death.)” She answered with her eyes still closed.

“We’ll never let you fall.”

“Thank you… Good to know.”

“Being sarcastic?”

“No no! Just…” She gulped, “Just want to be put down.”

They were silent for a few moments, making Mara feel bad that she hurt her savior’s feelings.

“You can let go now.” Venom said.

“No no no! I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings!”

“You didn’t.” He said as he patted her back, “We’re here.”

The woman’s eyes snapped open to see that she was on top of a building, but the world started to spin so she closed them again.

“Dear lady.” Venom said awkwardly, “Are you still scared of falling..?” “... Yeah.” She admitted sadly, “Everything is spinning.”

“Ah, we see.” The hero said looking around not knowing what to do, “We’ll just sit you on the ground.” Venom’s skin expanded lifting her off of him and gently placed her on the ground.

She opened her eyes, she was still dizzy.

“Th-Thank you.” Mara said standing up but stumbled to the monster making him catch her, “S-Sorry.”

“No problem Mara.”

She moved away from him, “How do you know my name!?”

He was silent for a moment before answering, “We read your mind.”

The college student looked dumbfounded. Could he really do that? Well this is New York, anything can happen.

“So where do you live so we can deliver your bike there?”

The woman blinked before answering his question, with a question, “I thought you could read minds?”

“We’ll just leave your bike then.”

“So you don’t read minds?”

“We’ll leave now.” He said as he hopped on the ledge.

“It’s 300 Quincy Street in Brooklyn.” Mara said making him turn his head back at her.

“300 Quincy… Got it.”

He was about to jump off before Mara called out to him, “Oh Venom…”

Venom looked back at her, “Yes?”

“Thank you… for saving me.”

“No problem. Take care of yourself, Mara.” The man said with a grin (A bigger grin than usual.), before hopping off the building and swung away with his webbing.

Mara went to the edge and watched him till he was gone before realizing she was on the roof of Neil’s apartment building.

“Can he read minds or can’t he?” She asked herself before grabbing her phone and called Neil.

“Hello?” Neil answered.

“Hey uh, Neil? I’m on the roof.”

“The roof!? The roof of what?”

“Your apartment.”

“My apartment!?”

“Yeah. And I can’t exit the door, so can you open it for me?”

“How in the hell did you get on the roof!?”

“Long story, can you get me please?”

⧫⧫⧫

After Neil opened the door on the roof for Mara, they hurried to his apartment. She told him about getting mugged but being saved by Venom.

“Who?”

“Venom.” She answered earning a stare from Neil.

“The Lethal Protector?” She said earning silence. The woman sighed and grabbed her phone and googled the hero. She faced the phone to him that had a picture of the spider creature standing on a rooftop with his tongue out.

“That’s a lot of man…. But a whole lot of ugly.” The oriental student said simply as Mara put her phone away.

“He is rough around the edges but he’s nice… I just can’t look at him for a long time.”

“Because he’s ugly.” Neil stated.

“Y-Yeah.” Mara nodded.

“Like… I don’t mind him using his tongue on me, he just needs to wear a bag over his head and I’ll call him daddy.”

Mara laughed, “Eww. No thank you.”

The male student chuckled before stating, “You’re not going home tonight, you’re sleeping with me.”

“What? Why?”

“It’s a blessing to sleep with me girl!” He stated before grabbing plates of food, “Also I don’t trust you being alone after all of that. You’re sleeping here tonight, come with me to school, then I’ll walk you home.” He then placed a plate of pancakes, sausage, and eggs in front of her.

“You know, I don’t mind. I felt lonely in the apartment anyways.” The silver eyed girl said, “But what do I do for clothes?”

Neil smirked devilishly, “We don’t wear clothes here.”

“I do.”

“Fine. I have a spare skirt and turtleneck in a box.”

“Where did you get that?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Kay.” The girl said simply before she started to eat the breakfast her friend made, it was delicious.

Later they watched movies and shows together till it was time to go to sleep. Mara wore Neil’s shirt and shorts to bed in his spare bedroom and quickly fell into slumber.

With a day she had, sleep was a must.

She enjoyed her sleep before Neil woke her up in the morning, shaking her shoulder.

“Mara! … Mara!”

Groggily she woke up confused, “Wh-Wha---”

“Look!” He stated before showing the front page of the Daily Bugle Newspaper.

She rubbed her eyes before examining the paper. It had a picture of Venom swinging around a building, holding her bike. The colorblind girl then looked at the headline.

Venom Steals Bike!

“Oh my fucking God…”

[firsthandfirecracker-blog]

Journal [8.5-8.7]

8-5-89

I saw her again.

It sounds crazy to admit that—that I “saw” her. But here I am, hours later, still chilled to the bone.

Her face won’t get out of my head—that subtle smirk. Those eyes. The way they narrowed the more I told that cop about her, like I was betraying her.

I can’t be alone with my thoughts right now, so I’ve turned to my journals. I pulled them all out from the dusty bin in the back of my closet and spread them on the rug. I didn’t start journaling until after I got back from college, but there’s still plenty to go through. Six years’ worth, to be exact.

Larissa was only twelve when we started classes. Poring over those journals, she’s brought back to life before my eyes, bright and fierce and determined. She was full of hope in those days—maybe her situation wasn’t the best, but she was going to make it better. She had to.

I wonder what happened. When did the light die from her eyes? When did the switch flip? Or was it slow and steady, like a forest fire in a thunderstorm, determined to blaze yet doomed to fail?

The truth may lay somewhere in between, I suspect. Maybe my journals will tell me something. I can feel their presence, almost; they vibrate with importance. I’m going to take out all the pages about Larissa, line them up end to end, and read them. I hate to tear into my records like this, but information is more important than sentiment right now.

8-6-89

Funeral today. Nolan dances on my skull; my head aches.

8-7-89

Couldn’t sleep last night. I showered and slept (at home, for once) and laid in bed for two restless hours. Then, I got up and started reading.

I’ve been through ‘83- ‘87 already. I journaled less frequently then—the habit was new when I first moved back, and at times it wasn’t a habit at all. Honestly, it’s painful to read these old accounts. For instance, this one:

10-22-83

Fifth class with Larissa today. She’s a quick learner, but she’s got a long way to go. She’s enthusiastic and pretty agile, too—her love of jump-roping proves it—but she’s neither accurate nor powerful. Of course, she’s twelve, so I’m not worried about it in the long run. I guess I’m just concerned that she’s gonna hurt herself again.

We’ve been doing mostly conditioning and practicing form, but today she insisted that she get a chance on the bag. I swear, I was gonna say no, but she just gets this look in her eyes when she wants something that’s impossible to resist.

Well, long story short, she almost sprained her wrist. She was all red-faced and sniffly, but she didn’t cry—not when I showed her how to ice it properly, or when I began wrapping it up, even though I was sure it hurt. To distract her from the pain, I asked her about her week, thinking she’d mumble something about school and be done with it. To my surprise, she opened up like a flower, gushing about all the cool stuff she’d done. She was most proud of befriending this cat that lived in the park; she’d been saving bits of her lunch to feed it, apparently.

She was so animated when she told me, free arm waving as I pinned the bandage in place. Seeing her shine so brightly, I can’t help but worry. Nothing that pure can last.

I can still picture her so clearly: that bright smile, those determined eyes. But reading back on it now, I can’t help but wonder what brought her into the gym in the first place. What drives a twelve year old girl to learn to fight—independently of her parents, no less? Perhaps more importantly, why didn’t I question it sooner? Why didn’t I push harder? Why didn’t I—

Nevermind. I could keep myself here all night considering what-ifs and should-haves. I need to move on.

9-8-84

Hard to believe it’s been almost a year since Larissa started taking classes. She’s thirteen now and she’s got the attitude to prove it. Looking at her these days, I can’t help but remember myself at that age. Like Larissa, I’d always been a spitfire, and when I entered my teens, it only got more intense. I hope she’s not getting into the kinds of trouble I got into at that age.

Oh, who am I kidding—she’s a kid. Of course she’s going to get in trouble. I have to remember that it’s not my job to protect her, but to give her the tools that she needs to protect herself. She’s certainly come a long way from where she was a year ago: she actually landed a punch square to my jaw today when we were sparring. When she realized what she’d done, she threw her hands straight up and let out a holler. Naturally, I saw that she’d left her stomach open and socked her one. She fell back onto the mat, and for a moment I worried that I’d hit a bit too hard, but then I realized that she was laughing.

Her class is always my last of the day, so she helped me clean up, putting the mats back in their place and sweeping the floor. Just as I was about ready to see her off, she stopped short and spoke:

“Can we get ice cream?”

I frowned. “Shouldn’t you go with your parents?”

At that she wilted, a look I’d seen only once before, at her first class.

“They won’t care,” she said at last. The specter dancing between her eyes was gone; she turned abruptly and flounced out the door.

I’ve long suspected that Larissa has a neglectful, or at the very least ill-informed, home situation, but I don’t have anything to prove it. She clams up if I ask about it, and I wonder if it’s even my place to.

So, yeah, we got ice cream. I got a simple strawberry cone, while she went all-out with a sundae. I couldn’t help but laughing, seeing the chocolate drizzle reflected in her saucer-like eyes.

“We’re celebrating,” Larissa said, “’Cause we’ve been in class for a year. That’s a long time.”

I smiled softly. I used to think a year was a long time, too; it was only after… well… anyway, I couldn’t argue with her, because it was a long time in teenage years.

“Ms. Wilder, I’m gonna be in your class forever.”

I laughed and ruffled her hair. “Good, because there’s so much more to learn,” I said, but now, hours later, I can’t help but wonder if I jinxed it.

Again: no parents. I’ve thought about it a lot in the years since then. They were always this… blank space, I guess, this chasm in her story. I knew she had them, and I knew she lived with them, but I never once met them. Not once in six years. Normally I wouldn’t allow a child to sign up without parental approval, but Larissa had this hungry look in her eyes, or something close to it, a look that told me she wasn’t being provided for. So how could I refuse her? How could I condemn a girl to a life of neglect when I could instill in her the tools she needed to better it?

Not that it worked, but… anyway. I’m tempted to blame myself, as always, but looking back through these journals, it’s clear that there was more to the story.

3-12-86

This has been the longest six hours of my life.

I was coming back from the grocery store around seven p.m. when I passed the church. It’s still burned into my eyelids—that spire, looming high overhead. My gut lurched, but I didn’t have to wonder long to see why.

Not three blocks past the church, I saw someone walking along the side of the road. I recognized those messy blonde curls: Larissa. She carried her shoes in hand, bare feet dirty with roadside muck.

I pulled up next to her and rolled down the window.

“Larissa?”

Her eyes were red-rimmed, and I caught a glimpse of a tear before she scrubbed it away with her sweater.

I was about to hop out of the car when she opened the door and slid in.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

She sniffed. “I’m fine.”

“Larissa…”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

I started driving, my mind at work.

“I just got groceries. Why don’t we stop by the park and eat sandwiches? We don’t have to talk.”

For a moment she looked like she’d refuse, but something in her softened and she nodded, slumping against the seat.

I laid out napkins and sandwich fixings in the trunk of my car while she wandered around the park, balancing on anything she could find: tree roots, parking blocks, the little fence by the playground.

“Order up!” I called, and she came running over. Her eyes were still puffy, but she smiled as she bit into the ham sandwich. I did the same to my own, causing a bit of juice from a poorly-cut tomato to spill down my shirt. We both laughed, and for a moment I could almost forget the strange circumstances that brought us here.

We didn’t talk, in the end, choosing instead to listen to the songs of the crickets and the whisper of the wind.

“It’s about time I take you home,” I said when the sky was dark and our bellies were full.

She looked at me, and I saw It again, that looming something that stood between us.

“Can I stay in the spare room tonight?” she asked, uncharacteristically looking down at her hands. She was a stickler for eye contact.

In answering I hesitated—that was my first mistake.

“Your parents will be worried about you.”

Her lower lip jutted out. “They don’t care.”

“I’m sure they love and care about you—”

“They don’t care,” she spat. “Don’t you get it?”

Seeing her then, I’m not sure I did.

“Look… you can stay, but I just want to call them and—”

Larissa sprang up.

“Of course, you just have to play it by the book, don’t you? Did you ever think that some rules need to be broken?”

Her eyes were moist as she turned and took off for the road.

“Larissa!” I called, panicked. I sprinted after her, but her adrenaline must have took over—she ran faster than I could hope to catch up. Doubled over on the side of the road, I recalled my groceries and my open trunk. Once I’d recovered a little, I jogged back to my car and packed everything up, then took off down the road.

I didn’t find her, though. Finally I gave up and cruised by her house, hoping to see some sign that she made it home. As I passed by, I saw that the light in her window was on and hoped for the best. I thought about asking her parents, but knew she’d never forgive me for bringing them into it. I don’t even think they know she takes classes.

I ended up just returning home. Now that I’ve had some time to reflect on it all, I wonder if I was wrong not to contact her parents earlier. Must the cost of caution be the trust of someone you care for?

Part of me thinks I was wrong not to ask about what was going on, but I know she wouldn’t have answered me. Probably would have run off sooner. Still, there’s a thread to pull here. What happened that night at the church? I should ask around, see what I can dig up.

I don’t know if I can keep reading these… I can still see the face of that young girl who first walked into the gym, her excitement when she succeeded, her fury when she failed. Through it all, she was so alive, and now she’s—

I have to move on. It’s like this clock is ticking inside me, I don’t know for what or why, but I can’t rest until I find the answer. And the answer is here. So I’m skipping forward a bit, because I remember the golden years quite well. After that first year, when she was unsteady on her feet, fire roaring but unable to direct it. No, it was after that, when she started to gain confidence but before she got jaded.

I’ve been thinking about what that cop said—maybe she intended to fight someone. Looking back, I think that maybe he was right. But it wasn’t just one person. She wanted to fight… I don’t know, the system? Her community? Everyday injustices? (Ok, don’t project, Naomi)

My head is spinning. I need to take a break.

…

Well, it was a shit day, but at least I made it through. I’m at the park because I couldn’t stand to be in my apartment for another minute. Hopefully the fresh air will help to get my investigative juices flowing.

I think my students could tell that something was off today, but it’s not like I’ve been hiding it, exactly. I cancelled all my classes after I heard the news, and today was my first day back. There was just this weird energy with them, like I was delicate. They weren’t exactly in top form, either. I think we were all just distracted and didn’t really want to be there considering the circumstances.

Whatever. No use stewing in it; if I want to get some sleep tonight, I’ve got to get through these next few years. Of course, by this time I was journaling every day, so there’s much more to go through. I have one journal for each class of hers over the past two years, except one. Can’t remember why I didn’t write that day, but there must have been a good reason. I’ll think on it and see if I can’t figure out which class that was.

As for what I do have, most of the journals read pretty much the same: summary of the class, some routine stuff about form and improvement and whatever, the odd note here or there. But there are a few that stand out, like there’s something between the lines that I can’t quite read. I won’t rest until I can.

Here’s an entry I found particularly significant re: fighting someone. Maybe that cop was on to something.

12-10-87

Larissa came in ready to pick a fight today. She half-assed her warm-ups and clearly didn’t bother to stretch. I’m not proud to admit it, but I may have escalated things a bit. I suggested we go straight into sparring since she seemed so eager to get it over with; she agreed.

When we fought, though… I’ve never seen her do it with such ferocity. Often when we’re sparring she’ll end up giggling because she’s enjoying herself so much and because, well, sparring can be funny sometimes. This time, though, she was all business. She was so focused, like this fight would decide something, though I don’t know what. And her eyes—she had this far-away look, like she was fighting someone else. I can’t help but wonder who that could be.

I tried to make small talk with her after class, which she usually goes for, but this time she aggressively brushed me off, turning her back to me like a child. I just let it happen. It’s not my business, after all, as she’d stressed to me a dozen times or more. Funny, she didn’t used to feel that way. Used to be that she was all too eager to share… or maybe it was only certain things she was sharing.

I guess what really got to me, though, is the car that came to pick her up. I’d never seen it before. Usually her brother or Jill would come pick her up, but this was some big SUV-type car, and I swear it had the brights on because it blinded me just to look in that direction.

I don’t usually do this, but I ended up accompanying Larissa out the door, hoping if I got around the lights I could see inside. But the windows were too darkly tinted for me to see anything.

I’m sure it’s fine; I’m just paranoid. Years of suspicion really haven’t gotten me anywhere, so I should probably just drop it.

This is the first occurrence of someone I didn’t know coming to pick her up. After this entry, it happened more frequently—a trickle at first, but by ’89, it was becoming more and more common. She was always cagey about it, like she didn’t want me to know who it was.

Well, it’s about time I found out, isn’t it?

This next entry is the one I kinda told the cop about, though in fewer words. I don’t need a journal entry to remember it crystal-clear, but since I’m a glutton for punishment I read it anyway.

8-17-88

Larissa came to class high today. I don’t know why it bothers me so much. I should be able to let it go, but it feels like some… contract had been broken. Larissa could say anything she wanted, but I always got the impression that she respected our time together. She was—maybe not happy, per se—but grateful to be there.

I noticed it from the first moment she walked in the door. She had a certain spring in her step, one I hadn’t seen in years, not since the early days of our classes together. I barely got to say hi before she was out the door, doing her weekly run around the warehouse to warm up. I thought about warming up with her, but she seemed like she wanted to be alone.

When she came back, we stretched together, then we moved on to bagwork. It’s something we do every class, but this time she just couldn’t get with it. The point of working with handheld pads is to train speed and accuracy, not power. But Larissa had this, I don’t know how to describe it… a manic look? She was always spirited, but this I’ve never seen before. It was like she couldn’t control herself. Her first few hits would be soft, like they should be, but they’d keep getting harder and harder until I had to stop the session and remind her of the exercise.

It wasn’t long before I had to stop the session completely because she just wouldn’t listen. I suggested that we move on to shadow boxing—no point wasting all your strength on air right?—but then she rolled her eyes at me and I kind of lost it.

I can still hear the conversation now, echoing over and over in my brain:

“Larissa, are you high?”

She gave me an incredulous look, like I’d insulted her.

“I don’t want to put you in a corner… I was just wondering if you wanted to talk about it.”

“Naomi, I’m not here to talk. I’m here to fight. You know that.”

I’d opened my mouth to say something more, but she launched herself at me, throwing a sloppy, overextended punch. It was easy to dodge, but she kept coming at me. From her mouth came this savage cry, like a wounded animal fighting for its last breaths.

The look in her eye was so wild that I’ll admit, for a moment it scared me. In the end, I had no choice but to shove her back, landing on the padding below with a thud. She looked up at me with those red-rimmed eyes and I could see her shredding me to pieces in her mind. After a silence that seemed to stretch on for ages, she scrambled to her feet and stomped toward the door.

“If you can’t train me, I guess I’ll have to find someone who can,” she spat.

“Larissa!” I cried out, but she was already gone.

And now here I am. Alone in the gym, wondering if she’ll ever come back. Wondering why it feels so important that she does. I’m not sure I’ll ever know.

Famous last words, right?

I have a million more questions now and no answers. My head feels like it’s splitting in two from the pressure of my unknowing. But I will know… I must. I can’t rest until I figure it out: What killed Larissa Kearney? What killed L͝ariss͘a̸ ͢Ḱe̶ar̷ney͏? What ki̸ll̀ed̢ L̶a͢r͡i̢s̡sa ҉Ke͏a͢rn͢èý?͝ Wh̀a͞ţ ̶k͞il͢l̛e̛ḑ Ļaris̷s̨a͝ ͘K͜e͘a̶rņey? W̺̻͔͎͖͚̫̕h̳̻͖a̭̲̝͈̜͢t̠ ͟k̼̖̬i͏̠̻̦̤̞l̠͇͕̼l̼͖̪͔͇e͉̘̼͟d ̩͞Ļ̺̺͔̭͚̲̳a̮̬͟r͖͎͍̤̤ḭ̛̠̫̭̝͙̜s̛̠̤̖̼̣̻̤ș͓̠̖͇͔ͅa͎̠ ͓̜̫̫̭̱̬͡K҉̬͕͇͇ͅe̫̭̱̪a̺͖̜̬̱̰r͉̺͉̳̘̙͖ņ͉̣ey͈͘?͚̤̲ W̰̠̼̼̹͞h҉̭̭a̤̮̘̲ͅt̮͔͉̭͘ ͓̭̗͇̠̣̩k̬̙̪iḽ̜̤̗̟͇̖́l͍̟̹̩̰e̬̝͖̹̦̟̕ͅd̵͖̹̩ ͓̹̞̜Ḽ͇a̢̞͔͍̜̖̯r̝͟į̜s̰͉̹s̲̫̞̘͠a̶̠͈͇̱̠ ̸̹K͜e̫̮͈̱a̸̱̦̤͕͈̠r͍͈̹̭̙̥͟ͅn̡̬̯͍͓è̤̠̰̪̟̠y̵?͔̼͞ W̲͔͖͇͖h̛̬̬̤̰̝ͅa̧̖̘̩t̳ ̠k̙͈̻i͇̲̣̪̬̯l͔̠̘l͏̦e̖̖͇͎̣̹̙d̶ ̧L̥̝͘a̶̗r̴͉̰̻̠i̫͙͝s̴̯̪̣͔̰͇s̳͚͇͢a͉͚͚͓̫̝͍ ̤̝̙̕K͇̮e҉̗͎ͅͅa̟̞͔̜̦r͢n̫̱e͖͡y҉͙̹? W̻̭̙̤̠̪ͅh̰̬̮͢a̜̯̤̼̳̩͡t͙̳̖͞ ͚̬̬̯̀k̞i̴͕̦̭͍ļ͕̹͔̺͖̩ḻ̜̙̝͙̜e͎̼̺̭͓͎d̫͚̣̺̩̀ ̤̭͚̬̝L̙̟à͕̪͕̗̖̜r̦̳̳̩̦͉i͍s͈̙͍s̀a͕ ̢̮̙̪͖̬̙̲Ḳ̫̩̹̫̻e͏̺̭̲a̶̩̱̭̤̣r͕̟͠n̡̥͈e̼̣̺̙̬͓y̰̞͙̤?͕̪̘̼̭ W̰h͓̘͙͕̰a͖͚̰͉ṭ ̴̣͎͖̗͈͙k̛̘̜̺͚̭i̭̜̝̣̝l̳̼̞͔̟̣͠ͅl͔̻̤̰̜̙e҉̝͔̯̺d̯͔ͅ ̙͎L͙a̤̤͢r̰̫̥̘̺̕ḭ̩͍͉̹̻͠ś̱̩s̖̕a ̫K̛̠̪͓̣̻ę̜̮̹a͏͓͙r̹͚̖̜n̷é͎̝̦̯̬y̖̲̕?̥̘̠ W̑̆h̨̪͎ͬ͒ͫ͊̊͆å̸̖͙̭̫̝͖̦̔ͨ͂̿́ţ̼͓̮̖̝̃͒͆ͣ̌ ͉͠k̪̘̱̯̞̻̓ͬ̋̏i̼͕̪l͉̙̻̤̾̄̓ḽ̶͔̺̠͙̻e̴ͣ̂ͣ͆͊̒d̸̬̲͈̣̹̅̓̔̈̽ͩͩ ͥ̿ͫḼ̸̟̥̖̞̽ͤ͂͌ͫ̑̅ä̭̖ͫ͛ͣr͚̼̤͓̝ȉ̵̻͕̫͚ͣ̿̔̋s͈̗̺̲̉̎̅͆͟ș̙͖̖̳̥̺̇ͨͦ͑á̛̀ͩͮ̑̄ ̳͉ͪ̍͆͛͞K̗̘͋̓̇eͧ̽ͦ̐ͥ͂̄҉͕̣͓̯͇͍̲a̫̗͙͈̓̒̎̈́̎̄r̶̫̞̮̹͕͕̞̉ͧ͑ͩ͛̑ͣn̴̠̱̗̯͇͐͌ėͣ̐͂͗̓͏͍̲̙̘̜̟͕y̻̦͔͙̪?͉͉̭̪͚͍̫̆ W̘̺͗hͦ́aͫ͒ͨ̾t͙͞ͅ ̺͙͖͍̽͂̚k͚͍̳̞̽̈ͥͬ̈i̲̦̝̗ͭ͑͆̐ͧͅll͏͖̭̫͙̰̯e̼ͬ̉̄d͙̫̼͇͖̅̈͗ͥ͆͠ͅ ̨ͦ̃̍L͇̘͇̖͉̖̳͐̒ͬ̍͊ͬ͟ā̸͈̣͚̻̜ͧ̓̂ͭr͓͋̾i̥̪̫̫̐̾̑ͥ̚s̭̮̙͐͌̊s͓̰̣̪ͧ̌͗͟a͈̦͉̗͉ͯͭ̇̂̑͆̚ ̣̟̟͙̫̏̓ͯ͡ͅK̴̬̈́ͬ̋ͥ̔ͣ̚ḛ̤̦͈̻͕̳̋̒aṛ̞ͭ̓̓͆͗ͪn̲̼̮ͮ͆̐̎̌e̸̘̟̓͊ͮ̈y̐̂̂͑̑͗̾?̭ͤ͜ Ẅ̲̠̠̘́͑̿h̄̀̆́ḁ͕͕̤͈̂ͦ͊̅̄̐ṭ̺̠̦̊͗́̏̓̒̚ ̡ͧ̒k͚̝̲̼̣̱̮ͮͨͤ̚̕i̥̖̋́l͉̰̭̪̰̀ͭͨl̅̃e͔̠͙̜̟ͭ͋̎͆̾͗d̡̈́ ̋ͦ̍Lǎ͚̰̆̅ṛ͎̲͆̈́ͯͧ̚͝i̛͍̮͈͈̫͇͖s̱̤͂̍͞s̀a͑͏̫̻̘̲̦̞ ̖͍̤̙ͬ̔ͭ͑̂̕K̊ͦ̅̃͏̱͚̭͚̳̤e̳͖̞͈͚͎ͤ̄ͥ́a̞̖̜͇̜͍͌͛̓͜r̢̖̩̻͆̇n͂҉e̿͐̀̽҉̮̲̺ͅy̜̘̠ͥ̄ͦ͂?͚͇̼̲ͧͭ W̖̥͕͚̦̖̫̯͉̍͒ͪ̆ͯͣ̕ḥ̀͌̎̾ͮ̍̃͢a̘̬̻̩̯̒ͦͩ́t͎̝̻̼̃̾͊ͦ̉ͥͅ ̛͈̬̭̤̺̾͋̿ͨ͢͞k̰̎̇͠ȋ̶̛̠̝̼̬̘̭̍̆̑̇ͮ͗̃l̺̘̜̱̭ͦ̈ͩ̔ͥ̊̒ͩ͠l̙͔̜͑̈ͬ̒͠e̝͎̰̼͍͓̦̋ͫ͑̌̌͌͗d̴̷̖̒̈́̐͌̾ͣͅ ̻̜̜̝͐͊̋ͥL̸̬̞͍̲̦̻̍͋̈̈̎̋͜ą̶̸̬̲̩̰̄̄̿r̝̫̺̝͈̮̠̖͙ͤ͑̑i̷̪͉͍̍̑̈̒ͤs̯͕͖̘̥͚ͬ̋̏̌͜s͔͈ͫͧ̌̆͒̀̚aͭ͑̚͏̼̜̪ ̸ͦ̆ͫ̄̽͏̹͈̠͔͙̙̩̳͟K̸̟͖̭͖͈̟̪͙̭̆͗̎̄͂̋͋͆͢͡e̛̜̖̬̩̱͊̓̔ͮ̽á̧̨̖̮͚͖͖͍͔ͦ̔̊̽͑̋ͨ̚ṙ̴̵͉ͥ̑͗͛n̢̮͎͕̞͊̔͗͞ȩ̰̥̖͕͖̳̬͍ͣ̿͊̀̆͂͢ÿ̸̗̙̭͎̣̖̩̭̓̒ͮ̅̉͘?ͤ̀͐̋͛̀̄̏͏͕̣̘̭͎̞̀ Ẅ̵̡̺̫͚͙̞̬́ͭ̾͠h̘̣̻̄̉̌̏̀a̶͈̫̞ͣ̊ͮ́ͫ͌͗̀̕t̴̢͉̪̫̩͒͑̊̀͒̈́̋ ̛̗͖̞̮̍ͮ͑́̚͘k̟̠̞̞̭ͧͣ̈̀͊̿ͮ͆ͨ͠͝iͮ̊ͤ̅̊ͨ̃ͦ̀́҉̮͓̻̩̣̭̮l̷̰͔̞ͤͥl̴̞͔̘̘̫̠͉͋ͬͩͨ͋͒͌͞ȇ̠̼ͩͩ̉̄͂͑́ͅḑ̬͔̳͈͍̋̉ͣ̚͜ ̨͚̑̔͌ͬ̚Ḻ̵̟̯̲̩̱ͦ͆͒̎̊͊̂ͫã̜̮͚̝͚̙̻̃ͦ͘͜͡r̴̰̱̘͍̲̻͆̓ͤ̽̑̽́̎͊i̠͔̜̙̝̪̠̭ͩͫ̀͟s̱̳͕̯̬ͬͦ̓̍̽͊ͮş̗͉̼̟͚̻ͫ͌̆̽͑̒ͬ̚͘a̧̢̘͓͒͐̅̾͑͋͐͞ ̶̬͕̮̺͂ͧ̍̒K̗̯̜̠̔̎͞e̯̹͇͉͇͎͙̞̾ͬ̃́̌̌̏ͫa̦̖̖̪̒̓̊̒̄̄̚ȑ̶͓̪͉̤͍̳͛n̢͍̭̤̣̪̯̳͈͖ͤ͋̉ͥ̊ͪ́eͥ͏̗̖̹͜y̨̮͙͎̳ͥͧ̽ͤ̅ͨ̈́̿͂́?̪̣͎͌ͬ̈̀͂͛  W̷̪͕̪͔͗̃̔ͮ̈͆h̢͔̮͔̿ͪ̄ͫ̆aͬ͗ͨͩͧ̽ͨ͏̵̼̠t̵͙͍͖̬̼͖̊͆̽ͭ̈͠ ̨̪̲̥̾ͧ͊ͤͭ̅͌̀͞k̭ͪ̍̎̓̐͋͘͜iͪͦͧͧ̾ͪ̏҉̥̘̝̣͖̝ͅͅl̻̟̹̜͉̮̩̟͉̉̋̉l͆҉̷̤ȩ̶̱̤͈͍̹ͤ̇d͇̞̯̳̼̃ͫ̄ͦ̔͋ ̮̰̘̥̹͉̱̈ͩ̓̏͂̀̉ͪL͋ͦͣ̐ͥ͑̒͊͘͏̫̠̖̻̼̠͉ạ̾̈ͨ̋̎̀͠ȑ̡̬̯̪̫͎͌͂̌̔ͬ̿̋̈́i̸̺̮̲͖̓ͮ͒śͪͬͫ́͏̳̟ś̈͑͗͌ͭͧ҉̫̩͔̹̺͢ȧ̵͖͓̤̗͉̜͗͒͑̂̿ͯ̀ ̰̘̅̾̓͜K͇̞̝̑̈́͋͛e̩̦̖͉̣͈͔̽̎̓̅́͂̀̄̀̚͜ͅa̶̔ͥ̏ͨ͂̉̏ͧͩ҉̩̟̝̹̘͇r̴̾ͣͬ̌҉͙̹͓̱̬n͈̣̹̣̪̻̝͛̃ͮͧ͟ͅę̴̲͗̽̚y̲̲̟̤̣̜̺ͯ̓ͤ͢?̷̨̢̖̹͓͇̺̉͋ͤͯ W̸̩͎̥̲ͨ͗ͧ̀͟h̤͈̣͇̭̪̟ͥ͑ͣͣ̚̕͟͡ͅȧ̠̮̗̭͒̃̓̉ͤ͊̕t̵̨̧̺̙̟̖̀̀̉ͬ̎ ̡̘̖͊̈́ͧ̒ͭ̓͝k̰͚̫̯ͥ͆͋̈ͮ̊̏̑͒i̞̖̿̂͌ͩ͟l̶͉̮̟͈̱͙ͧͨ̒̓̉́͝l̄̍͊͒ͩͥ̀͏̪̀͢ͅeͩ͑ͥͧ̂͗ͧ͏͈̞d̯͓͕̮͈̔ ̭ͯͫͬ̄̄̂ͧ̿̈L̸̺̬̫̗̝ͪ̉͂̓̀̅́ȃ̩͉͔̯͍̼̯̮̎͂r̖͎̘͛̽́̔͗ͮ͂͟î̖̺̝̩̞̓̈͋̄̉͊͛͘s̴̷̉ͩ͏̜̳͙sͥ̋ͮ͘͏҉͈̞̗̼͔̬ͅa̫̤͇͉ͬͫ̅̀̾̊̈́͞ ̶̗͙͔͇̏͂K̫͋̈͌͒͗̅̚̚͢͡e͇̘̫̠͚̺̼̊ͩͩ͊̆̑ͪḁ̸̯̈͗ͤ̅ͦͮͦ̊r̀̉̃ͣ̂͊ͫ̂҉͓̯͖̀͝n̮̟̩̫̘͈ͮ̎̉͑̾͊͛͘̕e̴̷̺̠̜͚̮̼ͥ͛̌͑͋͢ͅy̛̺̯̹͉͚͓̩̅̌̎̑͒ͪ̔̓͐̀?͓͒ͧ̽͠͠ W̍̑̑̈́̊̀͏̠̯h̷̛͈̥̙͕̊̊à̡͆̆ͣ̈́̒̐͏̶͍̹t̵̼̯̺̺̞͈̻̫̃ͣ͊͝ ͎̄̌ͣ͗ͬ͜͠k̡̺̮̲̟̪̗͔̿̾͆̌ͯ͋́ͣ̕͜i̻͈͖̣̪ͭ̊͌ͨ̂ͩ̐͑̔l̨͍͎̻̫̝̟̻̝͋͗ͥ́ḻ̵̥͚͎̙̮̻̗̃ͥͤ͊̍ͩ̈͗͛͘͞e̶͓͎̣͖̝̗͆ͫ́̋͐̆̓͂͛̀͠d̢̨̦ͯͯ̄ͮ̈́̈ͫͥ̚͜ ̶̶̧̯̥͂̿ͮL̥̫̠͍̟̹͔͚̻̀͒̇̄̂̚͞a͆̃̑̾ͪ͛̃ͬ҉̼͙̺̜̯̺r͓̼̤̖̬̼̞̎̊̑̎̅i̼͓̹͎̬̲͒̃̊͆͒̋̑̆́s̫͒̐͂̓͟s̵̵̼̗̮̪̥̽ͭͨ̌̎̑̌͝a̩̥̳̤̝ͫ̒͊̾͞ ̟͉̟̟̱̬̪̱ͭͬ̂̊̂́̌̎Ǩ̺̭ͩë́̏͒ͨ͂̊҉͈̯̞͘a̜̱͓͓̣͆ͦͮ̅̽̚͝͝r̼̲̱̺͖̯̪̮̂ͮ̅̀͋͐n̜͑̈͒ͬ̏̿̓̚̚͘ȩ͍̫̺̫̼̼̣͚̔̃͡y̪͓̥̻͙̬͇ͯ̀͑̓̾͑̉ͤ?̷̫͔̠̼͈͖̋͑̔ͣ W̨̞̝͕̜̹̞̮̱̟͇̦̭̭̗̩̬̰̑͛̀́ͦͣͤ͒ͯ̌͂ͭ̉ͬ́̊̾͒ͭ̀̀ͅḩ̴̳̖̰̦̗͉̲̝̺̳̩̣̹̲͔̊̓̿͋̀ͅa̵̷̻͓͔͔̦̣͕̺̙͔̜͓͕͇ͭ͗̌̔͒̑̅̊̇ͦ͆͘͢t̵̟̘͍̯͐̑͛̊ͣ͛̈́̈͢ ̸̸̡̧̬̮͇͇̪͎̩̝̣͈̦͚̲̥͍ͦͥ̌̀̊ͯͬ͋ͧ̍͊͋̏ͪͦ́̀ͬͅkͫ̅ͤͮ̆̀͐̐͐ͤ̋̍̏̚͜҉̵̴͇̱̱̤̭͇̩̱̩̹̩̻̰̼͎i͛̅ͬͦ̓��͗̉҉̼̫̞̮͙̲̣̖̺̗͈̖͉͍̻̳̭͉̤͟l̵̡̤̯͕͕̩̘͖̟̤̻̰̝̭̝̭̻̤̾̔̌ͭ͑̏ͭͧ̌̃ͪ̏͒̏͝ͅl͖̳̳̝͉͍̲̼̫̭̙̠̠͇̦̟͚̹̇ͣ̿ͬ̌̀͋̈ͬͫ͊͛̄́͟e̡̧̛̫̤̯̬̰͓̤͔̭̲̤̞̰͈̣̦̿ͩ̎͑̈́́̚ͅͅd̸̴͆̄ͦ̽̍ͥ҉̵͔̘̠͕͙͓̗̹͢ͅ ̸̶̸̗͚̝͎̘̳͍͉̹̫̻̬͚̞̻̐̓̿̒͆͑̓͑̍̋̏̋̈́ͨ͠L̶͉͉̙̯̬̬͚͕̃́ͧ͋͒͌͊̓͑͗ͬ̅͊͒͞ą͚͖̞̱̟̰̗͈̙͓̣̦ͣ͆̏ͭͬͪͬ͒̾ͮͦͦ̽́r̲̻̰̟̳͇̭̙̝̺̪̠͔͇͖ͦ̾̇͗ͦ͊͌ͨ͘͟͟͝͞ͅͅi̵̶̦̲͚̞̭̮̱̲̩͍̹̟ͪͮ̅́͟͝s̻̳͔̝͙̤͎̣̻͖̜̯̞ͭ͗͛ͭͩ̋̈ͥ̃̓̇̇̓͗ͫ̋̊̚͠s̾͊͋̿ͥͮ́͒̏ͣ̈̓ͬ͑͋̆̋̚͢͏̢̯̹̻̣͓̗̘̩͎̗̻̠͉͉̬̤͓̕͢a̸ͮ̎ͯ̅͊ͯ̀̅̒̌̄́͋͑́͏̭͍͇̬͖̖͍ ̨̼͇͍̯̯͉͇̮̖̪̼ͧ͛̈͊͌͛̂ͬ̈͒̚K̸̷͍̠͍̺̤͔̬̼̹͉̱̠̭̗ͫ̂̅̅͊̔̅ͯ̋̔̒̒͌ͩ̓̚ͅe̅ͥͪͯ̂ͥͮ̋̎̋ͣͫ̓̒̊̅҉̴̯͎̩͔̙̱͕̪͚̪̘̺͎̖̟̯͞ã̷̆ͭͬ̈́́̾̆̔̔̎̍͋ͥͩ̚҉̭̭̞͖͕̹̗͍͇͝r̡̨̞̝̜͉͕̗̙̩̭͖̠̦̪ͯͮ̒̄̏̂ͮ͢͝n̵̞̰̠͕̹̗̹̘̩̮͍̰̝͔̮͈̥̯ͣ̑́ͮ̀̀̀̚͘e̷̸̻̺͈͓̫̼̠̟ͫͮ͆̓̇̓ͫ͑y̡̛̛̰̱̹̮͓̙̜̙͈̝͌ͪ͂ͦͨ͗̃̒ͬ͆͂̌͋ͣ̽̇̂̆͂?̭̘̫̲͚̥̖̣̮͔͍̝̞̥̯̯̦̭̱̐͐ͭ̃͊͟͢ W̡̖̘̹̙̟̖̺̗̥̟̘̮̯̠͕̞͔͛͒͂͗ͪ̂̊̃ͫ͊͗̇͌̆͐́͗̀͜͠h̯͓̙̹̖̬͎͚̦̙͎̟̅̾ͫ́͊ͣͣ̓̾͘͝ȃ̘̖̰̲͇̲͈͙̝̲͇̎ͩ̉́t͂̒̾̒̃̌̇ͪ̆̽́ͮ̐ͧ́͏̰̮̪̙̖̜̹͖͙͕͇͈̣͍̗ͅ ̨̧͚̪̼͕̍̈́ͫͭ̅ͭ̆ͯ̀ͩͮ͊́́k̆̊ͨͪ̓͑̓ͣ͆̐̔͂́̊ͪ͗͗̏͏̷̢̨̡̳̫͇̹͔̟̗̯̘̝̮̱i̐ͯ͊̏̄̚͡͏̵̬̟̪̥͈͇̗̫̘̺͝l̛̛̠̲̭̯̮͎̝͉͙̱̫͔̫̘̼̼ͤͥͧͪͯ͒̐͒ͩͧ͛́͒̋̌̋̊̽ͭl̶̡̙͈̪̱͎̿ͩ̆̊͒̅ͫ͂ͨ́̚̕͜eͧ̈́͒͑̿́̾ͤͨ̍̈ͫ͆ͪ̉̍҉̴̛̹̞͓̞͇͍̰d̸̍̊͐͗͡͡͏̲̙̮̘̼̫̤̼̪̝ ̧̧̨̛̜͉̟̮̗̠͖͍̪͈͎̺̹̙̤͎̑̍̓͂ͨͩ͗͛ͨͭ͑͑̋ͮͮ͌͆͡L̵̸̛̮̟͖̮̝͙̟̳̳̙͇͍ͦ̑̋͌͋͗͌͛͌ͫ͟͠ȃ̡͉̗̻̥̻̮͓͊͊͋ͣ͐̉ͨͧ͊̇ͨ̽̍̓͝r̸͓͍̙̠͒̾̑̍ͤ̕͜i̡̛̩̖͉̥͕͈͇̳̥̹̦͖͉͇̮̟̍̍̂͗̓ͥ̒̔̅ͤ͛ͮ̑͑̅͟͡s͗̅̐́̋͒ͮ͑͌ͥͬͤ̈͋̔͟͏̧̨̥̣̖͎͚͈̟̝͍̭͚̘̘̼̳̰̟͉s̴̨̥̳̱͚̱̘̱͛̀ͨ̇̂͂ͣ͡a̦̯̠̝͂̀̋̈ͬͫͪ̐ͫ̆ͬ̿͜͜ ̐͋ͯͫ̋̂͒ͦ̾̅ͨ͛͌̇͌͒͏̀҉̯͕̼̹͙̬̦̘̫K̄ͦ̊͐͛̔ͧͦ̇̌ͪ̔͊̐ͣ҉̡̻̫̹͖̪̕͞͠e̴̷̢͋̄͊ͭͣ͋ͨ͏̪̘̹̼̙͚å̸̤̠̩̘͕̼͗̓ͪ̑̅͝͞͝r̳̮̤̹̪̖̗͓͍͕̋̈́ͦ̅̃̊͒̆̃͛̾̔͂̕͢͠͝n̉͋ͬ͗͂҉̵̵͠͏̦͍͇͔̫̝e͙̭̭̫̞͙͉̟̝̳͓̹͇̬̪̾̃̈́̃͐̀͟͠ͅͅy̙̖͙̮̖͇͆̈́́ͧ̃̅̋ͦ̚͘̕͡?̵̢̰͍͈̰͎̰ͥ̐̀̀́ͬͨ̀̈́͑̾ͧ̃ͤͬ͛̐͆ͦ̀͡ W̴ͩ̎̇̒͑́̌ͬͣ̏͆̉͐̐ͣ҉̧͚̝̰̗̣̫̤̘̟͉͔̫͕̰͎͘h͐̓ͣ̀͋̏̃͐ͯ̒ͮ͂͑̌̐̐͏̸̖̹̬̺̘a̶̳̮̗̭̔̏͆ͧ̓͆ͦͣͮ̕͜ț͇̜̹̭̘̰̦̭͈̯̯ͧ̆ͬ̂ͭ͒̓͊̀́̚͜ ̴̡̛̠͎̫̟̿̋ͦ͐̓ͮͮͬ͛ͣ̽̀ͥ̔̔̎ͩ͜ͅk̴̮̝̱̟̤̭͕͚̊̔̓͊ͤͭ͊̊̔̕͝į̸͖̲͇̟͉̭̤̩̖̬̺͍̪̝̩̽̒͐͗ͮ̌̅ͨ̈͋ͨ͝ͅl̢̧͎̼̜͎̙̜̤͕̭̻̻̟̮̎̐͌̀̎̿̔̍͌͛̈́̐̓̽͞ͅlͫ̊̆̿͗ͧͪͦ̓ͤ́̾̃͐̽̒̚͏҉̺̻̫͇ė͛̎̀ͪ̃ͭ͆̋͒̆̎̾ͯ̍͜͏̠̗͍̠͉̞͉d̢̗̥͍̠͙͍̮̳̫̞͚ͨ̈ͭͧͪͮ̈ͪͫ̽̓̀͟͠͠ ̷͕͚̮̘̯̯̰̎ͧ̏ͯͨͨͧͣ͋ͯ͘͟͜ͅͅL̴̸͇̹̤͓̱̱̻̱̘̰̻͎̤̦̖̊̅̑̐̐̓̓ͦ̕ą̷̞̦͉̲̒ͭ̓ͥ̄͆̌̽̏ͧ͒͑͟͡ŗ̵̖̟̤͚̹͔̠̯̖ͣͤ͑̈́ͬ͑ͯ̑͗̇̚̕î̴̓ͮ̑̈́ͣͮͫ҉̫̯̪̹͓̱̖̹͉͉̞ͅͅs̷͇̞̪̫͕̤̳̫̑̒͆̄͑͝ͅş̹͉͙̦̦̝͈̼̱͇̗͇̞̒̓ͦ̋͗̽̆ͪ͒́̽͆͝͠ͅa̷̶̷̛̰̦͍͉̜͕̻̣̤̫̞ͫ̌̉̃ͨͯ̌͟ ͇̯͈̼̟̘ͦͪ͑̔ͥ̾̋ͬͮͧ̌̾̌͆̀͘Ḳ̷̛̛̮̘̖̙̓ͨ̂̎́̾̃ͥ̃̑ͯ̅́̚͡e̛̔̒ͯ́̂ͤ͊̔ͬ̈̄ͥ͌ͯͧ̔̒͠҉͇̹̺͚͉̗͕̠͙͍̲a̵̢̡̞̩̺͎̖̻͉̜̙̟͔͖̅̊̂̍̃͆̈̑̓͆ͩ̃̈́͋͗ͧ̚͡ͅr̠̠̬͍̲͖͈̣͕̹̎ͦ̔̈́͛͋ͮ͌̀́͞͡ͅñ̵̒̍͊͌͋̒̋̿̊̾҉̷̨͙̲̞͎̜͎̼̪̣͙͇̙̭e̸̞͔̥͔̯̰̻̮͍̳̜̮ͣ̔̋̃̆̈́͊̐̅̏̆͐̀ͯ̂̀́̚͢ỳ̸̨̍̌ͧ͒̔͜҉͚͍̗̱̯͖̖̲̪̱͓͙̗͖?̧̨͔̼̹̮̑ͭ͗̓͒̍̄̔ͭ̋͆ͧ͆̐̿͢͞͝ͅ

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every odd question because I too am extra

yikes yikes yikes this is going under a readmore because this is a lot also rip mobile users i’m sorry

1. Put your iTunes on shuffle. Give me the first 6 songs that pop up.

I mean i already did this one but it changes with each shuffle so it’s whatever

Miami by Ariane Moffatt— i downloaded it over the summer when i was in Quebec and it makes me think of then it was such a good time i miss it aw

Car Radio by Twenty One Pilots— i am an unapologetic fan of my ukulele scream boys ok

Cliff’s Edge by Hayley Kiyoko— HA GAYYYY

Dead Girl Walking (Reprise)— again by a bunch of fuckin people because it’s from Heathers: The Musical WHAT WERE YOU EXPECTING

Fools by Troye Sivan— honestly??? Bless him i love troye

Life Lesson by dodie— my fave what a gal i love her w all my heart she is so???? I could go on for hours about dodie clark

3. Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17.

But i don't wanna moooove the closest book to me is Tipping the Velvet which is that gay one that I’ve been reading if that tells you anything so it’s probably something to do with the main character being Gay™

5. Ever had a poem or song written about you?

Not that i know of!!

7. What's your religion?

Don’t have one my dude

9. Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band?

I associate stuff that i’m into with points in time in my life and like… this is such a stereotypically emo response but probably fob and 21p because i was really into them when i was like 13/14 and that was like… when i really and genuinely wanted to die and i’d like to think that their music among other things (my own cowardice potentially, not necessarily a bad thing) is part of why i’m still here.

11. Do you believe in karma?

Yeah but not like “if you do bad things then the almighty god(s) will make you pay” more like, if you’re shitty to someone they’re gonna be shitty back cause that’s just how people work.

13. What is your greatest weakness; your greatest strength?

Weakness would be like… anxiety probably, cause it’s stopped me from doing a lot of things and talking to a lot of people and it’s getting better over time i think (generally speaking, it’s very fluctuate-y so honestly idk) but there are days when it’s really bad and just!! Stops me from doing stuff and that causes me regretStrength would be, hm.. I’ve learned to force myself to do things pretty well, i think. A lot of the time it’s like.. Forcing myself to talk to people that intimidate me (a lot of people intimidate me yikes) and forcing myself to do homework that i don’t want to do/don’t have the motivation to do because Depression™ but as with anxiety it seems to be (maybe) getting (sort of) better???

15. How do you vent your anger?

Oh boy, i don’t. If i even get so much as frustrated— i.e. pre-anger— my brain throws me into a pit of self-loathing so deep that all i can do is cry because i’m! Really! Bad! At! Processing! Emotion!!!That was really sad i’m sorry a lot of these are sad questions rip

17. Are you happy with the person you've become?

In some aspects, definitely. I’ve pushed myself enough to become an involved student leader and i FINALLY figured out what university i want to go to— past emma started having panic attacks about that when she was 12 so finally getting that shit sorted is BIG for her ok— and i can speak two languages which is super cool and i’ve finally figured my sexuality out which is neat and like…. I have friends and that was quite the foreign concept to my younger self because i was pretty alienated as a little kid for a while there cause i was a little weirdo and now to have MULTIPLE GROUPS of friends is like.. Wow.. beyond my past self’s  wildest dreams. While i know i still have a lot of growing to do, i’m happy with the progress i’ve made so far, definitely.

19. What's your biggest "what if"?

Already answered!!

21. Stick your right arm out; what do you touch first? Do the same with your left arm.

Right: my cat, he’s asleep right beside me— well, not asleep anymore because i just booped his head with my handLeft: nothing tbh

23. What's the worst place you have ever been to?

Anywhere that my dad was at the same time as me lmao

25. To you, what is the meaning of life?

Enjoying yourself and finding success— whatever success means to you personally.

27. What was the last movie you saw?

In general i don’t remember because it was probably some random movie on TV, but seeing-in-theatres-wise it was Fantastic Beasts!!

29. Do you have any obsessions right now?

Hayden…. My dude….. My guy….. U know EXACTLY what i’m gonna say…… i’m not even gonna write it because you KNOW….. EVERYONE knows…….

31. Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong?

Yeah lmao i’m lowkey a petty-ass bitch

33. What's the last thing you purchased?

The last thing that i got was a new bullet journal for second semester but my mom bought that technically— the last thing i actually bought was my rugby jacket!!

35. In a relationship?

Nah relationships are weird, I just got out of one fairly recently and— while it was on good terms and went fairly smoothly— i still don’t feel like i’m in the position to get into another one quite yet.

37. What is your secret weapon to get someone to like you?

I don’t have one tbh if someone doesn't like me as me then it isn't worth it— my cat maybe???

39. What were you doing last night at 12 AM?

Honestly??? I was asleep, yesterday was a lot with school and D&D and it was lit but i ended up pretty tuckered out!!

41. You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do?

I would like…. Draw attention to the fact that there was a drowning dog and try my best to get someone to save it but like…….. I don’t wanna get fired my dude

43. What's a song that always makes you happy when you hear it?

Anything from Quebec because that was such a good time ahhhhAlso anything with ukuleles i love ukuleles

45. How can I win your heart?

Be cute and into cats and also girls that too cause like… yeah…. And just have similar interests!!Also i love people that are patient, not just with me but with people generally. It’s a really admirable trait, and it’s something that someone would need with me because i’m TERRIBLE at articulating myself vocally and it takes me a while to sort out how i want to convey things, especially when the conversation is emotional/serious.

47. What is the single best decision you have made in your life so far?

Going to Quebec for that thing that i did over the summer. It was just— words cannot describe how amazing it was, the people were amazing, the stuff i got to do was amazing, I fell in love with Quebec all over again and got to practice my second language in an immersive— but supportive!!— setting, what’s not to love?

49. Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word "heart."

Can you hear,,,,,, my HEART BEAT

51. What is your current desktop picture?

Already answered!!

53. What would be a question you'd be afraid to tell the truth on?

Probably something along the lines of “Are you happy/doing well/etc.” not because the answer is ALWAYS negative but it’s just… very unpredictable the answer changes very frequently and while sometimes the answer is a genuine “yes,” some other potential answers could raise a bit of concern….

55. You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again?

Nothing, i would totally fuck something up and cause a butterfly effect so i’m not even gonna choose anything. I choose to not do that no thanks

57. You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who would it be?

No one!! That would be weird!!!! I wouldn't want to sleep with someone that i barely know and am infatuated with!!!!! That’s weird!!!!!!!! ew!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

59. Ever been on a plane?

Yep!! I went to Cuba back in 2011, and then I flew to Quebec and back this past summer. They were like, six and two hour flights, respectively.

this took eight years honestly kms bye

[shakeurspeare]

hi i feel really dumb about dating and it’s making me pretty sad but also I found someone who feels the same and we’re probs gonna drink about it this weekend so that’s nice to look forward to 

so like. in middle school my logic was that I feel equally attracted to guys as to girls so obviously I’m bi, right?? bc when i thought about it at the time like I could definitely see myself being close to girls and guys were just this mystery group but like sometimes i got crushes i think so that made the most sense

and then in high school i realized that the reason i’m equally attracted to guys and girls is that i’m actually not attracted to either haha whoops and i haven’t actually wanted to date any specific guys since like early elementary school (and does that really even count???) so i guess I’m ace and homoromantic bc that makes the most sense

so then i get to college and a couple people have asked me out in the past few years but mostly I avoid people who might make a move or like... act differently until I’m positive they don’t wanna ask me out anymore. and that’s fine. I don’t have time to figure out my issues with vulnerability and why the thought of sex freaks me out like nothing else. I have friends and i’m not too lonely and things are fine

but THEN last year i met this guy at band camp. literally within the week i was determined that this kid is gonna be my friend, god dammit. He’s kinda quiet, kinda solemn, but sarcastic and funny and really nice and willing to do a lot for everyone, including strangers and people who have done him wrong. he’s into magic and dnd and overwatch and pro-gaming but he also is very aware of the issues within the communities and he’s very outspoken about all kinds of equality. basically, he’s a funny liberal nerd who has good fashion sense and cares a lot about other people. i’m going off on a tangent because i’m dumb and i don’t give myself many opportunities to gush about him

so we become friends (it’s slow-going, there’s a lot of times that i’m worried he’ll think I’m hitting on him or being creepy, a few times where i feel like i overstepped because i’m an anxious idiot who doesn’t actually know how to pursue a friendship that doesn’t come naturally and he naturally assumes that people don’t strongly want to be his friend) and by the end of the season we’re close enough that we’ve made a group of four to room together for a band trip.

last spring i realized that like... i really wouldn’t mind dating him. it’s just a small thought in the back of my head. the thought of sex still terrifies me, that’s still out of the question, but i like, want to hold his hand and be able to tell him he’s cute and i love when he dorks out and i love that he has all these random history and mechanical knowledge that makes its way into our conversations. but i’m also 1000% down to stay friends, in fact that’s preferable because I don’t know the first thing about being in a relationship, and it took so long to get to being friends that there’s no room in my mind to think that he would want to date. we also talk a lot about his dating life because he’s had some bad relationships in the past and he doesn’t think he’s good at it and it’s something that’s on his mind a lot. but he’s mentioned enough about his dating preferences that i have sincere doubts that he’d like me enough to get over his dislike of dating friends. so we’re fine, and I stop thinking about it

i sublet his apartment from him for the summer and we see each other probably two weeks total out of the summer break; sometimes he comes back to the apartment for events going on, i go to his hometown for a festival, we meet somewhere in the middle to see a dci show. but we’re texting every day, usually something near morning time and a decent conversation in the afternoon/evening and it’ll go into the night when (usually) i fall asleep in the middle of a conversation that i’ll respond to the next morning. rinse, recycle, repeat. i haven’t enjoyed texting someone so frequently, like, ever. near the end of the summer we talk on the phone a couple times, because he’s more stressed about things and he has like an hour and a half commute around the same time that i get out of lab and it’s a lot easier to call than for him to use talk-to-text. it’s nice.

band camp this year was super stressful. we’re both on staff so we spend a lot of the day separately handling things and getting to know people and doing what needs to be done, then we’d get (second) dinner after that and chat. he doesn’t feel like he can fill the previous section leader’s shoes. i’m optimistic and i believe that the staff are rough but manageable. we spend about ten days going to bed at 1 or 2, waking up at 6 or 7, and spending the rest of our time running around and playing music and getting to know 10 new members and welcoming back the other 20 members of the section. it’s tiring; we both got sick during it and tbh i don’t think either of us are 100% over it

i start spending a lot more time at the apartment, even though i have a job at my dorm. at some point i’m pretty sure i was sleeping over 3 or 4 nights a week. i would go a whole weekend without stepping foot in my dorm. we start getting more touchy. it’s small at first, but it gets to the point where we’ll do that hand touching thing that i really like, where we just put our hands together and fiddle with each other’s fingers (i don’t actually know what to call it, it’s just me fiddling and twitching but with the bonus of human contact) or he’ll give me a shoulder rub because i seem stressed. but also sometimes he’ll pull away suddenly or i’ll try to give him a shoulder rub and he’ll make a joke “you know how i feel about being touched” and he’ll move away. and i do know how he feels about being touched: it’s something that, other than some casual touches (a hand on the shoulder, that sort of thing), he only does with someone he’s dating. but also he’s initiating a lot of this, so maybe he’s branching out from that ideology? or maybe he’s interested in me? or maybe he just doesn’t know how to tell me that he’s super uncomfortable with me touching him and he really would like us to go back to not touching??? so i spend a few days stressing that i’m being a mega creep before he starts a convo about it and explains. us being touchy is nice but he feels like he’s trying to have his cake and eat it too because it’s something he’d only do with someone he’s dating and sometimes he does it and it’s like 30% unconscious and that wigs him out

so obviously the answer is that we (essentially) stop touching and that could be that but i’m dumb and i want to double check so i ask if it’s because he doesn’t want us to date and he says yeah, us dating really isn’t in his plan and sorry if that’s hurtful, and i could also leave it there but i’m like, a super masochist and i like being on the same page with people so i tell him that us dating has been a possibility on my mind and that i’d like to take a few days to like back off and firmly tell myself that we aren’t dating and we won’t be dating and to chill tf out, but i wanted to let him know that’s what i’m doing so i’m not like, backing out of being friends

and we’re both miserable for a week, bc when i try to go back to business as usual he’s acting weird and distant and my immediate assumption is that he decided that i am, in fact, a creep and he no longer wants to be friends with me but dammit, he could at least tell me that instead of looking sad and distant and not talking to me unless it’s band related

so i give him a couple days of that, and we do a campus scavenger hunt together because we had signed up for it before everything crashed on us and we were going to pretend everything is fine, god dammit, except it was awkward and he was sad the whole time and i was hurt and frustrated, but we won like 5th place or something so that was cool

and once the weekend’s over i text him something vaguely along the lines of “so are we still friends or nah” and he tells me he’s been isolating himself and he feels like everyone is better off without him and he needs to stop holding me back and nobody needs him so he should just let us all go. like he’s not suicidal but he’s depressed and bad at realizing people like him. so i go to the apartment and for the first time in like six months i knock on the door because i told him i was coming over but i also feel like he has a right to yell at me to go away through the door if that’s what he’s feeling

but he lets me in and he tells me he should just get out of my way because i don’t need him and i tell him that he’s right, i don’t need anyone. this isn’t about need. but i sure as hell enjoy having him as a friend and i’ve been miserable this past week when that was taken away from me, and he just told me he’s been miserable too, so why the fuck should we both be miserable when we could just stop being dumb and be friends again

but also now we’re both miserable (for external reasons, mostly) and i don’t want to stop hanging out so much because i feel like we both need it, but i also need to stop because it doesn’t seem to bother him but it sure as hell has me confused because i can’t stop thinking that we might as well be dating but if we were dating then i’d actually get to hug him and cuddle and tell him i love him

and i feel like he doesn’t really have other people to hang out with and i don’t really feel like i have that either and maybe that’s all the more reason for us to back off a little bit more but i don’t want to. i’m very weak and tired and i just want someone to hug me for 30 minutes and it’s not going to be him and i don’t think it’s going to be anyone rn so i’m just constantly sad and in need of a hug that will never come

i think i need to have another good sob session on someone but i’m fresh out of people that i’m comfortable doing that to, both in the sense that i don’t want to be vulnerable enough to cry on anyone and that the one person i would be willing to do that to is someone who doesn’t need to hear all about how i can’t get the fuck over him