#just because i survived until right now doesn't mean future me isn't going to just give up

[kalgalen]

.

[nuhuhwinniethepooh]

Bestfriends?

Dark!Gojo x Reader

18+ MDNI, dark, animal cruelty, non-con, violence, Gojo is horrible (I mean it), baby-trapping. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

You should've known better than anyone that Satoru was never the merciful type.

His cheerful personality wasn't a facade but having known him for years made you aware of all the little tics that made him so terrifyingly him. Particularly that one little tic of his that always manages to send chills down your spine and ice the edges of your heart from fear despite him being your bestfriend.

The kind of fear that makes you wanna curl up into a ball and shrivel up just from the thought of being in the receiving end.

It's the little tic of his that makes him act like a cat which terrifies you even after all these years. It's not the way he acts so annoyingly asshole-ish like some cats or the way he acts so clingy like your beloved cat, Saibo, that scares you. No, it's the way he acts like a cat in it's most primal form that scares you. An instinct so abominable that it makes you cringe from disgust at just the thought of Saibo imitating it.

It's the very tiny tic of his that makes him toy around with his enemies like a cat that toys around with it's prey. Not for a just cause like survival but for the mere fact of entertainment to ease it's boredom; maybe you should've just killed yourself before it reached to the extent of making yourself Satoru's next target, his next prey and his pretty, little wife.

"Satoru, I told you twice already. My answer is a no, I don't want to marry you" you sigh, folding your arms across your chest as you look up at the man looming in your apartment doorway with an expression so blank that it reminded you of a statue.

A statue hand-crafted by the heavens itself and wearing the skin of your bestfriend.

His silence is a curse and for some eerie reason, you could hear the ticking of a clock somewhere behind you. Like a countdown of a bomb.

"Why?"

Flabbergasted doesn't even start to describe what you feel at his question because you've been telling him exactly why for the past two days since he stepped into your office and offered his proposal. And yet here he is, repeating the same question like a stuck recorder. There's nothing else you can say, you've already used up all of your excuses ranging from being an orphan to his clan elders future disapproval.

So when Saibo comes and rubs itself against your leg? There's only one utterly stupid sentence that presents itself-

"I promised my mum that I wouldn't marry anyone until I lose Saibo." Great, just great. You're a damn genius, obviously intelligent enough to dig a deep enough hole and bury yourself alive because why on Earth would you bring your sweet mum up right now. Leave the dead to rest in peace is what you should've don-

The smile tugging on his lips and the light tone of his voice after the uncomfortable silence cuts your monologue off. "That's all? I just have to wait for you to lose Saibo for you to marry me?"

"Watch your words, Gojo. You've gone too far" You snap, narrowing your eyes up at him.

If looks could kill, Satoru would've been buried a good 60 ft deep in because you obviously weren't gonna be satisfied with 6ft. Not after what he said; sure you did imply it but that still doesn't make it any better.

"This is going too far but rejecting me three times isn't?" Satoru scoffs, walking in so confidently that it made you stumble back and made your beloved cat hiss at him, bless her heart. His back faces you and suddenly it's cold, chills runs up your spine after your initial surprise fades and the click of the door lock seemingly drowns itself in the rapid thump of your now slowly thundering heart. You're getting deja vu, you're sure of it, it's the same sensation you always get when he gets on the battlefield.

When he turns back around, you notice that his blindfold was off but the look on his face is what makes you freeze. His gaze was anything but friendly and his eyes were a color so menacingly blue that it cuts through your skin and attaches itself in that tiny part deep inside you that always made you wary of him. For good reason.

Saibo jumps in front of you and promptly growls, a sound that you never heard her make, shaking you awake from your frozen daze and forcing you to watch the person you called your bestfriend quickly close the small distance.

"All I wanted was your acceptance" he says, ignoring the hissing cat in front of him "Is that really too much to ask for from you, pretty?"

"I can give you everything, Satoru. Everything except for that" you breathe out shakily, goosebumps rising in your arms when he caresses your cheeks. A touch so cold that you're not sure if it's because of his infinity or the frozen mechanism beating in his chest that he calls a heart.

"Then give me everything" Satoru's hand on your cheeks slides down to your neck, wrapping around it to pull you close "I'll give you everything you want in return, I'll give you anything in the world"

His hold gradually tightens on your throat, almost like a threat. No, it was a threat.

"Do you even know what you're asking for?" You spit out, nails digging into his wrist but that damn infinity of his kept you out and him safe almost like he was the victim in this situation.

"You clearly know that I do darling, and it's a damn shame really" He leans in, his eyes filled with so much adoration it makes you wanna gouge it out "Since I always thought you were a smart girl but maybe it's time to treat you like you're dumber than you are"

His last words are a whisper in your ears and in a split second his infinity is down and his lips roughly crash against yours, one hand squeezing at your throat and the other forcing your mouth open to shove his tongue inside while your hands tears into his skin and pushes at his chest, his face, his shoulders but all it earns you is a loud moan from him that shrivels something up inside you when you realise he likes it.

He likes your desperate attempts to free yourself from his disgusting hold. Likes the way you struggle against his grasp. Likes the way you whine and whimper protests against his lips, trying desperately to bite down on his tongue and finger but pathetically failing to do so-

What he doesn't like is the way Saibo also manages to dig her claws into his skin, much like you, albeit shallow due to the thick material of his pants but doing enough damage to attract his attention. You've had Saibo for 15 years and never was she so violent, tears springs in your eyes at the thought of it but before a single tear even manages to glide down your reddened cheeks, there's a push and you're down flat on the couch behind you and Satoru is holding a hissing Saibo by her fluffy white cuff.

"Shame, I actually liked you since you looked like me y'know?" Satoru hums, holding her at a safe distance with a small frown "Made me think that you'd remind her of me"

"Satoru, let her down" you manage out shakily, sitting up and holding a trembling hand out for Saibo. Hoping that Satoru wouldn't do what you think he's gonna do, he's your bestfriend afterall...isn't he? He should know better than that-

"I was trying so hard to be nice to you darling. I even went out of my way to ask you three times but you- hah- Honestly, you brought this to yourself" he clicks his tongue with a shake of his head, an almost feline grin plastered on his face as he steps back.

You've known Satoru for years now and sure he was a little volatile, somewhat impulsive and downright crazy when it came to the things he wanted but at least he was constant.

Constant enough for you to know that he was batshit insane.

"Satoru, please" you plead but her back is facing you and his hands is around her neck and there's nothing you can do but rush towards him a second too late. There's a sickening crack and a loud howl and Saibo's back is turned towards you but her cerulean eyes burns through your skin and heart and mind and soul an- the ticking of the clock finally stops. "Well she's gone now. Looks like you're finally able to marry me" his voice is light, almost cheerful while you're frozen in place. Tears blur your vision but both their cerulean eyes burns stark in your mind, Satoru and Saibo.

You've lost two bestfriends in one day. Lucky you.

There's a strangled cry emanating from somewhere, one so despaired that it claws at your heart and makes you wanna cover your ears and just cry yourself to death.

"I didn't want to do this either, darling" there's a quiet shushing and a warm hand places itself against your mouth, blue eyes gazing back at you like he hurts more than you do.

You shut your mouth and the sound is gone but the scratches in your heart still stings when you're pushed flat on your back. Still hurts when you limply tilt your head to the side to look at the lump of white on the coffee table and ignore the dull feeling of someone groping you because your pretty cat laid there, it's dead blues staring at you.

Saibo, your pretty little cat. Your mother had adopted a cat when you were young, a cat just as soft-spoken and warm as her. A pretty little ragdoll with soft, white fur and cerulean eyes that always licked at you like its own kitten when your own mother held you in her arms and cooed sweet nothings to you.

There's a numb hold on your cheeks and a hollow sound of squelching when you feel someone pry your mouth open and force something wet inside. Your blurry gaze flickers down to see your shirt missing and ugly red spots splotched across your chest, flickering your gaze upwards only to find blue eyes staring back at you.

Blue eyes like your mother's cat, one that never left your mother's bed after her death. She had a litter of five when your mother was alive, she had only one left after your mother's passing. The very one that she gently laid down on your open hands, licking your cheeks one last time before curling up in her usual spot and quietly passing away on your mother's bed a month lat-

"Don't go gazing off into the distance on me now, pretty girl" Someone coos in your ear, the blurriness of your vision slowly melting away when a warm hand wipes the silent tears streaming from your eyes. And then you see the familiar face of a man that looked nothing like your bestfriend, nothing like the Satoru you thought you knew.

You blink. Once. Twice. Trying to make sense of his echoing words through the haziness of your mind that wraps around you like a blank cocoon and numbs the intrusive feeling of his touch in between your legs. Time is a privilege and you don't know how long he's been at it but the dull heat resting low in your stomach and the disgusting feeling of his fingers moving inside you was as unwelcome as it was unwanted.

Not like he would've cared if you voiced it out.

Satoru always did have the ability to unceremoniously wrench the space people considered safe from underneath them; you've watched him give his enemies a false sense of security enough time to immediately recognise that familiar smile making its ways on his lips. The smile that made you realise that your fate was sealed, only proven true by the burning stretch that rips at the haze in your mind and steals the welcomed numbness to replace itself with burns that sears into your skin and brands itself deep inside.

"Satoru st-stop" you breathe out, brows furrowing from the sharp stings as you dig your nails into his skin and create little moon shaped dents into the milky expanse of his chest. "C-can't, won't" he groans out, pushing his cock well past the resistance of your clenching walls with gritted teeth "Also relax darling- hngh- you're just making it worse -shit, stop that" His hand besides your head moves to your hair, hold so tight that it pulls at your scalps and makes you grunt out in pain.

"Wait. Look I'm al-already halfway in" Satoru groans out delightedly, forcing your head up to make you look at the way he was buried inside you. Pulling out just a little to show his thick cock covered in your slick and blood because of course you'd bleed when an inhuman size forces itself inside your tight hole even after all the prep.

And then he's pushing back in mercilessly and there's a choked, painful moan forcing itself up your throat "St-stop -ah-it hurts!"

"I'm sorry darling. I know it hurts but it won't for long" he shushes at you quietly, pressing featherlight kisses on your forehead "It'll just hurt this one time, I promise." Your body is screaming so hard from the pain and betrayal that your voice seemingly loses itself in it, quiet gurgles being the only thing rising from your bleeding throat when he suddenly bucks his hips and bottoms out in you.

And then you're gone.

Nothing in this world could ever make you forget the sound of his heaving moan and guttural praises; praising you for taking him so well, acting like he didn't just force himself past your resistance and inside you.

Your tears and sobs don't deter him, it only turns him on, only encourages him to whisper sweet nothings in your ears, the sound of it makes you wanna rip your defiled ears off, and lick at the fat blobs of tears sliding down your cheeks. His small show of mercy is allowing you to adjust to his size; it only makes you feel worse, just the thought of him inside you for a second longer makes you wan-

An impatient thrust is all it takes for you to go numb again, body going limp when he runs out of patience and grabs hold of your hips to slam you down on him. Over and over and over again until you're nothing but a pile of meat and bones, and he's nothing but a groaning mess of everything you hate. Until your howls turns into muted little ah's and his held back moans morphes into a version of your name that he so religiously, and loudly, mewls in your ear with every buck of his hips against yours.

His voice is as muted as the sound of wet skin slapping against each other, your head limply tilted to the side with your gaze blankly fixated against the brown material of your couch when your body shuts itself down. But like all respite, Satoru steals it away again with a click of his tongue and a hand squishing your cheeks together into a small pout to force your head to the other side. Forcing you to look at the disproportioned lump of white on the table that you once called family.

Satoru could just say that he personally killed your mother at this point.

"Don't w- ngh-worry. Always knew you wanted a family" he rasps out, biting and sucking at every inch of skin he could get his lips on "Now I'll give you one, a real one. One that doesn't include a damn cat"

"S'toru" you whisper out, barely finding your voice in the mess and like always, it's ignored for his own rambling. "Gonna fill this right up for little mini-me" there's a sharp sting on your chest, you force your gaze down and look over his hand to watch him suckle at your nipples like a newborn babe searching for milk. An idea he's soon gonna turn into reality. You rasp his name out louder, ignored again when he finally lets go of your cheeks to slide it down to your womb and press down, hard "I-I swear I'll make- ngh-you into a mama if it's the last thing I do"

There's only so much feeling that your body can numb, only so much it can do against Satoru and his dick. Your orgasm was anything but pleasant if not painful, feeling his every inch, vein and curve mold itself inside you and rip you apart with shocks so violent that you jerk and writhe and clench your gooey walls down on him- you know it's finally over when he babbles in your ears and spurts something hot and repulsive inside you, his brutal pace finally stuttering to a stop and turning into a grind, perfectly plugging his obscenity inside you.

"Satoru" your voice is foreign to your own ears, his heat goes unregistered and the white cold lump is promptly forgotten because of that one thought buzzing in your head. "Yes darling?" His voice is as foreign as yours to you, his gaze undecipherable when he pulls away to look at you, leaning down to kiss you on the li- "I hate you"

He pauses, lips brushing against yours just barely. There's that signature smile of his and the regrettably familiar feeling of his lips pressing against yours. His reply seemingly drowning itself in the constant buzzing of your ears, only one thought ringing through your mind over and over again.

You should've killed yourself the very moment he proposed to you.

Masterlist ° NSFWlist Had to post this snippet cuz 2 months is a long time to be dead for. I got the heebie jeebies writing this but I was too far into it so I had to finish it😦

[iamfitzwilliamdarcy]

ok the evolution of Katniss and having kids post:

Katniss is thinking from the earliest moments of the book how she never wants kids. This is Chapter 1, even before the Reaping, when Gale mentions running away, if they didn't have so many kids, obviously here, he's referencing their siblings, but then this exchange happens:

"I never want to have kids," I say. "I might, if we didn't live here," says Gale. "But you do," I say, irritated. "Forget it," he snaps back.

This is literally page 9 in my copy from the library. Katniss has been thinking about how much they provide for their siblings already and she's also just given us exposition on her own parents-- her grief for her father and her resentment of her mother; it's also setting Gale up as a potential romantic partner, which Katniss readily rejects and is confused by the conversation at all (girly, you brought it up)

Again, in the first book, Katniss thinks she will never have children. This is nearing the end of the games-- it's just her and Peeta and Cato left-- and while Peeta sleeps, she lets herself for the first time think about making it home and what her future would be.

I think of Haymitch with all his money. What did his life become? HE lives alone, no wife or children, most of his waking hours drunk. I don't want to end up like that. 'But you won't be alone,"I whisper to myself. I have my mother and Prim. Well, for the time being. And then... I don't want to think about then, when Prim has grown up, my mother passed away. I know I'll never marry, never risk bringing a child into this world. Because if there's one thing being a victor doesn't guarantee, it's your children's safety. My kids' names would go right into the reaping balls with everyone else's. And I swear I'll never let that happen.

I included the long version and not just the part about never marrying, because Katniss recognizes she risks being alone forever. For her, even though it's terrible, it's better than having a child in this world, a world that is so horrific and threatening. She also automatically links marriage to having kids (as is natural), which complicates her relationships with both Gale and Peeta.

Catching Fire starts with a similar vein, but one Katniss now has to confront-- in order to keep those she loves safe, she will have to marry Peeta and live happily ever after with him. She wonders if President Snow will insist on them having babies, thinks it's likely a child of hers will end up in the arena because Victors' children sometimes do and Gale suspects the drawings are rigged. She reflects again on Haymitch's situation --unmarried, no children, wasted all the time-- and likens it to self-imposed solitary confinement.

Later, we get the fake baby drop, of course, and Katniss, processing, thinks "Isn't it the thing I dreaded most about the wedding, about the future-- the loss of my children to the Games? And it could be true now couldn't it? If I hadn't spent my life building up layers of defenses until I recoil at even the suggestion of marriage or a family"

We're still on the same track, the recognition of her fear of having kids in the world she lives in. Interestingly, I think it's still a loss of her children to the Games, but a less painful one-- nonexistent, possible children that she'll never have.

Peeta later is trying to convince Katniss to be the one of them to survive by talking about her family back home, and when he doesn't mention the pregnancy, she knows he's being sincere. He even mentions Gale and Katniss takes it in a way that means he would be okay if she wanted to be with Gale. He transitions back to playing the Games by telling Katniss, "You're going to make a great mother you know."

Katniss then wonders if it could be more than just a Games manipulation-- "Like a reminder to me that I could still one day have kids with Gale? Well, if thatw as it, it was a mistake. Because for one thing, that was never part of my plan."

It's HERE that we get a bit of a kicker-- she thinks about how of the two of them, Peet is the one who should be a parent. And she imagines his children--

As I drift off, I try to imagine that world, somewhere in the future, with no Games, no Capitol. A place like the meadow in the song I sang to Rue as she died. Where Peeta's child could be safe.

I think it's the first time she's considered the possibility of a safe child, and it has to be Peeta's child. This isn't something she ever imagines about anyone else, even when she thinks about running away with Gale.

Children are a sign of hope, of a possibility of living in a world where they won't be sacrificed on the altars of the Capitol. In Mockingjay, Katniss frequently notes that District 13 has very few children, especially following an illness, and that children appear to be prized -- it's partially why it's hard for her to initially accept that the rebels would bomb children- recklessly, wastefully

But it's the epilogue of Mockingjay, where this all culminates-- where her hope finds fruition. She says "Peeta wanted them so badly," but it takes years for her stop dreaming and start trusting that she's made that world, where her children, where Peeta's children "take the words of the song for granted"

It's a perfect ending, because from the start Katniss has denied herself even the hope of children, develops to thinking maybe that it could be possible one day-- for someone as good as Peeta, and that maybe his children could be safe, at least-- and in the end, his children--her own children--are no longer a hope, but Real.

[vickyvicarious]

Quincy has lots of foresight and level headedness as Van Helsing says. He is laconic less in the meaning of "Says little" and more with the actual definition of "Gets straight to the POINT". He sees what the matter is and instantly goes for the solution. I think that getting Mina a Portable Typewriter is part of that.

But it is still fascinating that it was him and not Jonathan who bought it. Jonathan might have been too deep into despair to think of a future in the horizon?

I mean, he also does say little as soon as matters get serious, which I think fits his character as well. It's not just Stoker writing him as more background character and forgetting to give him many lines (though I feel sure that's part of it too) but also, Quincey only hams it up when the situation calls for it. He's talkative with his buddies, and with the girl he hopes to marry, but as soon as we get into survival situations then he gets much more quiet and to the point.

Jack says that "In all our hunting parties and adventures in different parts of the world, Quincey Morris had always been the one to arrange the plan of action, and Arthur and I had been accustomed to obey him implicitly." And I think that does seem clear. He tends to think very simply/practically, and while he doesn't take on the role of leader in this group it's easy to see how he would be able to do so in another situation. He doesn't get as caught up in philosophizing or emotion; like you (and Art and Van Helsing) said, he's level-headed. He is pretty good at recognizing the core of a situation and just zeroing in on it, not being afraid to ask the relevant questions even when they might seem absurd or rude. My favorite moment being of course "Where did the blood go?" but there are others as well. And yeah, every time he tries to find a way to act about it. He notices Lucy might love someone else, asks, gets rejected, and then keeps his distance because he doesn't want to get in their way. He recognizes the blood must be going somewhere, asks about it, and then decides to guard against bats because he knows bats are something that could do that. That sort of thing. He also acts preventatively quite a lot (that foresight you mentioned), with stuff like shooting at bats or spying to see which way Dracula might flee or volunteering to ride up the riverbank in case Dracula got off at some port along the way. These are all just-in-case type actions taken to prevent a possible bad outcome.

Him getting the typewriter for Mina is nice in another way because it goes against his tendency to step back when he thinks something isn't his place. He's shown to be pretty hesitant about being somewhere he thinks he would be intruding, from stuff like not coming back to visit Lucy until Art asked him, to not going to see her on her deathbed since she didn't even know he was there, to stepping out of the room when he saw Art having a moment with Mina, to even being weirdly nervous about bursting into the Harkers' bedroom during a life-or-death situation. He likes to wait for an invitation first (not in a vampire way, haha) when it comes to interactions with people. But here, he doesn't. And I think it comes down to the day they met, when Mina saw how he was feeling and offered him comfort and validated his own grief as just as worthy. He was deeply moved and promised to be her friend from then on. Then he vowed to kill her in the name of that friendship. This is a gentler, perhaps less grand but no less meaningful, way he can express how much he cares about her, and try to in some way return the favor by attempting to lift her spirits when she is suffering.

(Mina and Quincey's friendship gets me emotional every time.)

As for why Jonathan didn't buy it... I think it is partially him not seeing the future right now. He has already said that he and Mina don't talk of the future, and while he of course is fully dedicated to hunting Dracula down and ensuring they will have a happy future together, I'm not sure it is anything he can really visualize right now. He is so very absorbed in caring for Mina in her current condition and planning to take care of Dracula in a distinctly different meaning of the word, that he doesn't have room for anything else right now. He's on the edge of breaking down as it is, and is just trying to push through, sort of like it was for him back in the castle.

But also, in a less angsty way, I think it might not have occurred to him as something he could do. He and Mina have only recently come into any sort of wealth, and a typewriter like this would be pretty expensive (I believe someone looked it up last year and it seems like Quincey dropped a pretty hefty sum on this gift). He's become used to using money much more freely of late, but it has always been for the purpose of a specific goal, not purchases for pleasure. It may not be something that even comes to mind as a reasonable act he could do for her, not yet anyway.

[voltstone]

…about the clementine comic (again): why is she illiterate?

I've already written an exhaustive essay about the Clementine comics written by Tillie Walden, and that was before the first book was out. It was more of a discussion of what was already seen from the teaser, Walden being an…interesting choice to write this, but more than that, it was to preemptively stake the claim that no, it isn't canon. Not in the way that's just "ew I hate this I refuse," but more so, "the games (and character) by design and functionality do not allow for single interpretations to adequately continue the story."

These comics can be…a canon. But not the canon.

In the same way as The Walking Dead Game's (TWDG) fanfiction, like my own where I'm writing only my canon interpretation, the others who do the same, and so on.

(This right here is the essay, by the by.)

It has been a couple years since then. I have read both comics, and there is a lot I can say about them. I may one day, but not right now.

Instead, I want to direct attention to how…weirdly anti-apocalyptic it is?? Because it bothers me. A lot. That I'm watching a Clementine as a character get reduced to a kid who doesn't know how to read or write, doesn't know how to dress and care after a wound...

All things necessary for survival—the reading especially within an apocalyptic setting. Which. No. I'm not kidding. I do mean that.

Before I really indulge in my grievances, however, I will start by outlining the world that TWDG has established, and what it actually takes to survive within it.

(And yes, this is another lengthy post.)

[Surviving the Apocalypse]

Throughout the games, we ultimately see the apocalypse under two overarching eras. The initial stage is calamity. The walkers swiftly overrun what people upheld as a stable, and very secure way of life. And the fact that it only takes one factor to destroy the "we're untouchable" notion, it's terrifying. (Which, on that note, though the undead is an extreme, we did maybe learn this post-COVID. Ergo, stories like these may resonate a little bit better than they had before.)

What's different about The Walking Dead (TWD) as a universe is that…, the true calamity arguably doesn't hit until later, because the dead themselves aren't what really destroys the untouchable mindset as before. In most universes, such as The Last of Us, it's something contagious that you don't want. However, it is also something to overcome and fix. Though the dead in TWDG's cousin is far more brutal, if you isolate them, or find a way to vaccinate…, there could feasibly be a future where the fungus is more akin to rabies or the black plague rather than a devastating change in society.

Because that's how diseases like these work. They will never go away, especially if humanity mishandled their responses to them. Rabies is still out there, because it is a violent disease (am also under the impression that walkers is very synonymous with rabies, but I digress). The Black Plague? That whole thing? Yeah, the plague itself is also still out there. The problem was solved by nature, where a fire torched all of London.

But since then, we have vaccines. We know better (…I hope) in how to appropriately respond. And…that's the best we can do. Pathogens will always dictate life.

Of course, this isn't to undermind what outbreaks as seen in those other stories do to the world. They evidently are a turning point, if not the end, of humanity's way of life. The reason why, however, falls more in-line with a society being greatly unprepared, and a virus, fungus, whatever being the perfect amalgamation that spreads rapidly. It's what we as humans have gone through, will go through, to an absolutely extreme. Complete annihilation. That kind of deal.

Here's the thing about TWD, and I honestly could go on and on with this (and why it's my favorite apocalypse I've seen in fiction):

The bite is not what does it. Everyone is infected.

And the longer you think about it, that in itself will not end. I'm in the camp that it would be maternally passed-down given how blood circulation works within pregnancy, so. You know.

The point here is TWD as an apocalypse is very unique in this one change. It fundamentally breaks how people approached these kinds of stories. The walkers are not particularly fast because they don't have to be. They are a looming presence. As they deteriorate, because they're so slow-moving (as apposed to clickers), they manage to tell their own stories in how they died. You can see if they were bit, or starved, or shot… List goes on.

They are representative of nature reclaiming the world, and on top of that, a dangling threat to anyone who has the gall to think they're above it.

Because they're not. So either make sure your head is shot, or deal with walking around like a mangy pile of rot.

It changed how people approached this because rather than a devastating outbreak, this feels like a sort of damnation. There is a very bleak sense of finality to this universe—to the point where… Yeah. They could live on, try to find a cure, but this is it.

This is the true calamity of this world—not the walkers themselves, but the fact that they are there to stay, there is no going back. At least, for a long, long, long time. You can't just isolate them. If someone dies the wrong way, there could be one in the room right with you. Hence…making sure your head is shot.

And as with in the games, it is such a bleak reality that it forces people to just move on.

Which they do. The way to survive this initial era is, amongst a wide scope of things, to accept the fact and carry forth.

The characters that don't, and are simply too rooted in the past, like Katjaa… Well, they don't make it, do they? There's a reason why we don't see that many unable to let go after the first season, because they don't last. If they do, like with Tenn, it's because they got lucky and had a community to fall back on. Regardless, given what we see with Katjaa, Season One (S1) is this time.

The second era of the apocalypse is seeding. Both in the literal sense, and symbolic.

I'm not talking established communities, no. The closest we get to that is the boarding school, given they do have established practices. But, with how many things need to be done, the schoolkids are still within this second era.

Season Three (S3) is arguably the first season of the four solidly within the second era. Sure, there are still scavengers, but there are also several communities at once—enough so that the conflicts between end up being why they fail, not purely the dead. This leaves Season Two (S2) to be the fitting chaos that ensues between the eras, where much of the world is scavenging, they're reminded of how cruel winter is actually, but there are already solid efforts in building communities; then, Season 4 (S4) as well within the second era, with clear signs that there is the gradual chance of establishment.

The second era requires not only what the first proposes—moving on—, but also a sense of ingenuity. They're left with the scraps of the past world, but that past world also grew out of the earth, so they can cobble those scraps and earth together and make something out of it. We have Prescott on the airstrip; that is the epitome of cobbling things together. There's Richmond, and Howe's Hardware as well, where it's making use of the scraps left behind to establish proper farms. Then Ericson's as a meld of both—the kids have their structure, but they needed to feed off the land. (Not quite at the farm stage like the others were.)

All of what I've discussed thus far, however, is on an overarching scale (and isn't exactly exhaustive either). It can be extrapolated and used in reference to an individual's survival, but there are ways to better articulate an individual's survival than just…get the fuck over it, and build a farm.

And what's interesting is there is a vast difference in requirements depending on how they choose to survive.

With a community. Or. Alone.

The benefits to a community is you yourself don't have to encompass the three traits to survive. (Oh, yeah, this essay will have three primary traits of surviving on an individual scale; obviously there will forever be more nuance, but…shush. I'm typing.) Within a community, you can rely upon others that do encompass the three traits—and it doesn't have to be all in one person. The people within a community can specialize in skills.

And the schoolkids best emulate this.

Tenn and Willy, though they have their own skillsets, are example of those who need to rely on others. Both have the school, though they are closest to Violet and Mitch respectively—those, if asked, would likely be considered the closest thing to caretakers that either boys have.

And right alongside them, Louis, because my man…would like to say he's allergic to work, but really, it's the self-doubt. Now, if not a person who is reliant, he is good for raising spirits. He knows games to play. He brings entertainment.

There's Marlon, who's the well-spoken leader. Ruby, who plays nurse. Aasim, who…writes? Writing's important and stuff in the apocalypse, right?

(Yes. It is. Again, we will get to that, so, hush-up.)

Rosie. Dog. (This is also very important. You can pet her!)

Mitch was likely the muscle, or something along those lines. Omar, the cook.

I would say Brody sits near the "needs to rely" camp, given her anxiety, though, she does actually pull her weight, ergo, support. You can task her with anything. She'll likely be able to do it, such as with fishing and hunting.

Violet was also probably another support, though it is difficult to really tell at the beginning because she's withdrawn from the rest of her people. (I've always felt the Violet we meet at the start isn't who she was before the twins left. Of course, Violet is Violet, but… Depression, and stuff. Probably BPD stuff.) Here's the thing though: come to find, Violet is also another thing.

That being deputy. She can step-up and play leader when need be, but will step down because that isn't quite what she is—hence why the leadership ultimately goes from Marlon to Clementine by the end. This has Violet be the ultimate support. She can do whatever, fill in the leadership role, so on and so forth.

As the community develops, the others will find more nuances in themselves like these. Beyond what I've outlined, and the present nuances already in S4.

The thing with this line-up to understand is there's huge variety here. Not only in the nature of each role, but also their complexity. Because…, turns out, there's a lot to living.

Which. I mean. All of that is no shit, Sherlock. Because yeah.

When I go on about, say, Violet, it's to explain a very specific concept that one word is not going to do. There's a specific reason why I say deputy, and not second-hand; there is a thing where roles will and do change depending on circumstance, and time. (As with Willy (and Tenn) when he grows up, and when Louis becomes more confident.) But this doesn't mean it's more important. When I say "Omar, the cook," or "Ruby, who plays nurse," neither are to designate either as lesser roles.

They're actually crucial. Because no fucking shit. You need to eat. You need to learn how to mend yourself.

It's why those roles are so…simple. Because title alone says everything.

Certain roles, like Violet's (which…may or may not be ironic), are very community-centric. Others, like Omar and Ruby's, are fundamental to just life. And what you see is within communities, those fundamentals go from just skillsets to an art or to a science. When you have people who specialize in each, they are given the time and space to truly understand the ins and outs of what they're doing.

Cut to alone.

Those like Clementine.

Surviving alone is difficult because not only are all of these crucial roles in the community on one set of shoulders, there has to be great sacrifice. Of course, a leader or deputy isn't needed because there's just one. The social aspect of a community is not present.

With that social aspect follows specialization of the core fundamentals.

You need to eat. You need to learn how to mend yourself. And defend...

When you are on your own, without the security of a home, you are not given the time nor the space to truly know those ins and outs. So, when you look at those like Clementine, yes. She's not going to know little tricks, or the sciences, in what she does. The stitching for example:

Clean it. Sew the fucking body part shut. Wrap if you can. There you go, you just did stitching.

Which she does. However, S2, part of why the dog bite (oh, and yes, comic people? yeah, there's supposed to be a deep, concerning scar down her left forearm) scarred the way it did is because 1) …um, she was in a shed, dunking-back apple juice in between sutures in my case, getting jumped by a dead dude, and 2) the stitch-work was very rudimentary. Enough to close the wound and have it heal, sure. Then, S3, the same with Javi; Kate upon inspection does mention that she sees it bleeding through, indicating that again, it's very rudimentary. But, we have Eleanor examine it, and she notes that it is satisfactory, so long as it's looked after.

Had someone like Ruby, or better yet Eleanor (who Dr. Lingard complimented this exact skill) done it, they would have known different stitch techniques that not only closes the wound tight, but also leaves minimal scarring. And the other things, like how to adapt the techniques to different parts of the body, because…no, you really can't just stitch a knee like you would a back.

But again, Clementine didn't have the time to really learn the specifics. She's busy learning how to cook, and hunt, and defend, and scavenge supplies, drive, shoot, car maintenance, feeding a child, taking care of the child, protecting the child, prioritizing necessities…

Essentially, in terms of community vs solo, it's an argument between the specialized, and the jack of all trades.

Stay with me now. I'm not exactly done going over what is needed to survive, because there are more. There's the three traits I mentioned. But as I babble on, once the discussion over the comic begins, I do hope it's clear as to why I am going through these things as meticulously as I am.

Now we get to why Clementine of all girls would be able to live in this kind of environment. She's a kid, but like…young adult given the context. (I'm sure the medieval ages wouldn't argue.) She's like…stupid, or something. She only went to so much school, and we all know that only smart people graduate from school. I never met a dumbfuck at college ever! No!

…got a little side-tracked.

Genuinely though, what is it about Clementine?

I'll start this with a curveball:

What is the dumbest thing that she has ever done within the games?

There's room for debate, but the majority will probably point to S1, where she goes on to trust the voice at the other end of her radio—the voice being the Stranger's.

It's the decision that we, as an audience, thought Clementine was above doing even at that age. It's also what ultimately kills Lee.

Here's the thing, though:

Clementine putting faith into the Stranger wasn't just a child being stupid. For one, she is…eight/nine. So. A child. But, two, it was an exercise of her greatest flaw:

"She's a puzzle."

Something that is brought up, time and time again. To my mind, it's most notably done by Katjaa, whenever they're beside the train, and Duck is of ailing health. Clementine sits on her own log. Doesn't respond much to Lee, not until Chuck (as a breath of fresh air) comes to join the party.

See, she heard a voice from the other end of this radio—one of two (including the hat) mementos she has of her family—, and the one thing that she had in way of sanctuary. The Stranger said the right things, so she kept to herself with that radio, and let her desperation flourish.

Finding her parents was the one thing she wanted. So yes, through a child's gullibility, and a man's manipulation, she believed the wrong person.

We see this sort of flaw propagate time and time again. Granted, it does depend on the player's interpretation of her for S2 and S4, given we play as her, but in S3 where she's (quite literally, for the most part) out of our hands, what does she do? She keeps to herself. What happened to A.J? was a question on our minds, largely because of her reluctance to open up. Clementine lies to Javi about the New Frontier, then she turns around and explains her lie…, reveals her branding…, purely for survival's sake, not because she wholeheartedly trusts him.

Of course, in S3 it's understandable that she doesn't just open up to Javi. That game covers only a handful of days—short of a week by the end—, with the exception of the flashback sequences. (As opposed to S1, across several months, S2, a few weeks to a month, give or take, and S4, which sits about the same.)

Still, however. This is absolutely a part of Clementine's character: she's reserved. Without the player, her first inkling is to keep herself from the topic of conversation.

The thing to understand about this flaw, and how it bleeds into the comics, is that…I think(?) Walden acknowledged this part of her character. But…half of it.

The reason why comic Clementine pulled away from the boarding school is because she…, as she does…, kept to herself after her leg, got into her own head, and thusly ran off. I will say, I do agree that Clementine would be an absolute fucking mess with her leg gone because she has to rely on people again. (Which is devastating because of her specific trauma: à la parentification.)

Now…, run away…? Um…

(…it's also this specific trauma that… Um. Yeah no, she would not leave A.J.)

Whatever. Not the point of this essay.

The other half of this flaw, the half that the comics blatantly miss, speaks to quite an…insightful aspect of Clementine:

She is a very, very perceptive individual. Because the thing we see in S1 is that she's not just quiet. She's watching. She's observant. Clementine is quiet, not only because she gets into her own head, but because she's taking in the world, and so she notices things that other people don't pick up on.

Throughout S1, there will be moments where Lee can try to sugarcoat things, particularly after Duck's bite, only for Clementine to say it plainly:

"You don't know that."

Those moments speak to a kid who knows the difference between reality and not, and telling Clementine that she won't get snatched or bit is…not reality. It will likely happen, and it does.

Other moments, she'll notice details in the environment. She can point them out. Help Lee, as with getting into the train station. Make a comment, like in Hershel's barn with the "dookie"/shit/manure.

Or, back in the drugstore, where Carley (…not too subtly) outs Lee as a murderer in front of Clementine. …which, of course, Clementine picks up on. (The trigger for this is to pick up the photo of Lee with his family, hence why it can be before or after moving the desk.) To which, upon leaving the drugstore's office, she'll ask about it, and you'll have the option of being open and honest, sugarcoating it, or just flat out lie.

Staying in the drugstore! Lee asks for something to bar the entrance. Walkers are scratching to get a nibble. And? Immediately, she goes to his dad's cane (cuz that man ain't using anymore!).

S2. Same spiel. Because…, oh boy, incompetence is rampant as it turns out, and as I've stepped into adulthood for myself, I've come to appreciate that season as essentially "Clementine learns why the motel family fell apart, adults are grown ass children, she has to babysit them— KENNY, DOWN! STOP IT! STOP BITING THE RUSSIAN!— throughout a winter."

Because. Newsflash. Adults? About as stable of a concept as a table with a missing leg, then another one of mangled-together cutlery. And I will forever adore stories from a kid's perspective slowly realizing this fact.

(…also, parentification's a knocking. It wants in.)

Then, S3, where she gave up being the hero, but still…, somehow…, rattles off exactly what the player needs to do and where to get the tools when stealing a truck because she just can't help herself.

…okay, I think I've done enough. S4 also speaks for itself.

Point being, Clementine is a very perceptive, very resilient, and very adaptive person. It's why she out of all the kids she comes across is the one to survive.

Sarah immediately comes to mind as someone who really struggled with adapting. She can, but the tragedy of it is that it's not in time. Too little, too late. (Circumstances also don't help.)

With Gabe (if he dies), same kind of thing. He always struck me as someone painfully unaware of how good he had it, and how bad everything else was. And he needed to grow up. Fast. But again, that alone isn't what saves him—his uncle, and/or Clementine do(es). If he's saved at all, anyway.

Duck? Same fucking thing. And it was his death, through Chuck, that spurred Lee to start teaching Clementine the basics.

To which she adapts, and she adapts well. Their first outing doesn't go…all that great. Clementine freezes. But, throughout S1, she does shoot her first walker (with Omid, or in Crawford). If Lee cannot fight off the Stranger, she will be the one to kill him. And then, of course, the whole Lee death scene thing.

The second season starts off with Omid dropping because of a neglected gun. (Clementine freezes again.) Change is always on rocky road—despite the season prior, she still had a lot to learn, and she did throughout said season.

Perceptive, and resilient, and adaptive. To be those is the ticket to survival. Those are the three.

So why…does it seem like the comics don't know?

[VANCOMYCIN]

To anyone unaware, vancomycin is not a random string of letters for Clementine to work her mouth through. In fact, she knows how to read it. Had to, in order to inject this medicine into A.J within S3—whether or not she goes through with it is dependent on player choice.

Vancomycin, to give a better idea of the sheer desperation she was in, is not something to treat the common cold or flu. It's to treat Gram-positive bacterial infections—hence why it wouldn't necessarily work for colds or flu, given most are virus-borne—, and is generally synonymous with more serious infections.

Meaning. A.J was genuinely sick.

(My hunch is bacteria-borne pneumonia.)

I don't know what most of the fandom assumed, but it was not just a little bug. It was…bad. And a legit miracle that he survived (whether it be without the injection, or…with the injection where Clementine poked the syringe through his shirt? Game? Graphics?).

What likely happened was, somewhere down the line, he either just caught something on an off chance (the world hasn't been sanitized), or he got too close to danger and got himself sick that way off of one of the walkers/animals around. (If it was pneumonia, he likely inhaled something.) Regardless, Clementine was at a point where she…just did not have the resources to help him, would not know where to look, wouldn't feasibly be able to scavenge for it, and so she joined the New Frontier (whether or not you had her agree initially) because it was just that bad.

It is a heavy drug. Not only does it give insight as to why Clementine chose to join regardless of your choice for her, it also explains why the group threw her out for even handling it. It's not like aspirin that's easy to come by.

And, of course, there's the pronunciation of it. As with every medical term like this, it looks and sounds convoluted, but as you break it down, it's pretty straightforward.

Keep this in mind as I rattle on further. I find the vancomycin to be a very succinct contrast to what I take issue with in the comics.

Speaking of, the comics.

Hello there.

…Clementine.

The Clementine Comics, by Tillie Walden, read as a hard reset on the series, from S1 onward. Which yes, is the core issue. There was no effort in even trying to continue off from S4, it was just a way to have Clementine still run around, while avoiding the whole Telltale-RPG implications of a continuation.

So, if you're somehow out of the fandom and you're reading this, hi? Welcome. This is why people are upset about the comic, and for once, no, it's not just because this fanbase is being…unhinged. (In a bad way.)

On top of the plot decisions, however, there are things that just prove Walden was not the artist for this project. The artstyle is an interesting(?) fit for TWDG, but ultimately is an aside. There's the focus on romance. There's the dull characters.

And then there's Clementine herself. Very out of character, and that's coming from someone whose Clementine has…made decisions in her life.

What this essay will focus on, however, is the choices made to have Clementine incompetent.

Medically so.

In the first book, Clementine is taught how to clean and dress her amputated leg. I can get behind learning how to wrap the thing properly, because it is a different part of the body, and it's a different angle—on herself, not someone else.

But she asks…why she needs to clean it. Like she doesn't know. Clementine has to be taught that.

This kind of ignorance then follows her into the second book, because she fell ill (and slipped into a month-long coma??), largely due to her not cleaning the wound. Her leg had an infection. And it spread.

…okay. Um.

That's very interesting considering Clementine:

(S2) Got bit by a dog, felt like she needed to take care of it herself due to circumstances, cleaned it, sutured the wound with fishing wire, and then went to bandage it (before getting attacked). (By the way, the scar is not on comic Clementine. So.)

(S2; optional) Can sit beside Rebecca during her pregnancy to help, but then does have to assist with the walker/lurker problem.

(S2) Tended to Kenny's lost eye because he was beaten by a walkie-talkie by cleaning it.

(S2) Probably had to deal with that whole wound in her shoulder, you know, from the FUCKING RIFLE SHOT, either with Kenny, Jane, those at Wellington, or on her own (feat A.J). (No, they did not patch it up because time, and it went clean through. When Jane and Kenny fought, Clementine just had an open bullet hole.)

(S2/S3) Had to take care of a baby. With Jane or Kenny or in Wellington, and/or on her own.

(S3; alone S2 ending) Broke her finger on a car door to the point where she (presumably) had to amputate and cauterize the finger herself.

(S3) THE WHOLE VANCOMYCIN THING. I WILL GET BACK TO THAT.

(S3) Cleaned and sutured Javi's arm after he got shanked (cuz Gabe… never mind).

(S4) Twas a great start. Car accident—boo boo head.

(S4) Had to patch-up A.J cuz he got shot by a shotgun. And was in recovery for two weeks.

(S4; optional) Louis/Violet gets their finger chopped off. Probably helped deal with that.

(S4) Um. Her leg? You know. The one she lost, and the schoolkids managed to get her stable. Willing to bet Ruby would lose her fucking shit if it wasn't cleaned properly.

And that's just what we do see, in regards to Clementine personally.

Do I…have to go on and explain why it's fucking stupid that she doesn't know the basic information she had to learn in the comics? No?

Okay. Good.

I will get back to it, because I think this choice is indicative of a larger issue. We'll get to that weird…bias the comics have with Clementine being negligent and ignorant to all things medical.

Because now, we're here.

Not only is Clementine ignorant medically, she struggles to read her way through a dictionary. There's scenes of her sounding out words like she's in preschool.

For what reason?! Because in a world where people don't have higher education, they just don't read and write?! What?!

Okay, so, no, I didn't outline precisely why reading and writing (more so reading) is crucial of a skillset to have within an apocalyptic setting. I will do so now.

Because it's the crux of this essay. Hence why I've given it its own section. (…that's what this is, by the way.)

Why is it, exactly, "so" important Volt? Society's gone!! You don't need to read!

Listen up, ✨ dipshit ✨ This is an apocalypse. Not a nomadic setting.

Okay, that was a little mean. If you're asking this, you're not a dipshit.

Anyway, I am being genuine here. To the point where even implying that nomads by nature are illiterate is also…wrong. Because that's not necessarily true either, but assuming so falls into such an ignorant bias that people in 1st world countries have. (The same that the comics have.)

And this bias is the reason why I really, really want to have this discussion because the comics really rubbed me the wrong way with this, and, I'm kinda sick and tired of reading other people implying the same thing.

So let's start here:

What distinguishes us from the rest of the animal kingdom? Why is it we consider ourselves more intelligent?

The answer boils down to one thing:

Our mouths.

We can talk. And in doing so, we can communicate to each other very complex and nuanced concepts that require articulation beyond body language and emotion.

It's why we're able to distinguish things like envy versus just being irritated by someone. Because frankly? They physically feel the same because they are the same emotion. The context is what differentiates envy vs irritability. The why.

"I feel [this] because I want what they have." vs "I feel [this] because they're being stupid right now."

The [this] is the same. The body only has so many ways it can tell you what you're feeling, so it ends up boiling down to very basic emotions, where they can be felt at different extremes, or in unison. So. You know. Think Inside Out. What makes envy special is…you have to take context into consideration. Yes, it is also irritability, but it goes beyond that. And it requires language to communicate such a thing.

When you look at animals, that's why they're "unintelligent." They respond to what they feel the way they do because they don't have a way to articulate it. So they just react. Rather blindly in our eyes. Same thing with babies. They haven't gone through language acquisition just yet—they're in the same boat. It's also why a lot of dog breeds are said to "have the same intelligence as a 3 year old." It's related to language. They feel the same emotions, or whatever equivalent (can't claim I know how their bodies process emotions). However, they physically cannot exercise language verbally. Ergo, they're more or less stunted in the acquisition.

And then you have that we are wired to speak. Our mouths by design are made to verbalize complex sounds. A lot of our brain power is in being able to talk, or at least comprehend patterns in speech if the individual is mute. I for one was a child who rarely spoke for my first ~4/5 years, but I knew what people were saying. (Funnily enough, I was a lot like A.J.)

Beyond emotions, it's also to communicate things rather than [follow me, are you following, I'm looking at you, follow me,] it's "okay, I'm going over here, meet me by this tree." There's immediate clarification. There's a passage of thought between two brains. We don't have to interpret body language as much, we have to comprehend words.

To the rest of the animal kingdom, that makes us already mind-readers. Given that people are honest, and can articulate well, we literally are.

…it's also this emphasis on verbal language that has people be real fucking shit a reading body language, but whatever.

The point here is language is so fucking important. And there's a reason why we started writing things down. Some of the first records of written language, hundreds upon hundreds of years ago, were to keep track of agriculture. We also forget things, so we wrote those down. Heard of the Iliad? The Odyssey? Those were orally passed down for generations, but Homer decided to scribe them so they weren't forgotten. (From what I remember, he wrote those during the Hellenistic era of the mythos. …I want to say the stories come from the Mycenaean times?)

And above all.

Long distance communication. Or. Leaving behind knowledge.

So there would be couriers. There would be scholars who learned from scrolls of scribes decades before them.

(In modern times…, labels on products so that you know what it is, how to use it… Just a thought.)

Language is what makes us different. And by proxy, writing helps us retain that.

It is never something people are just going to abandon when the world goes to shit. If anything, it's going to be the one thing people will grapple onto by the skin of their teeth.

Out of the two, yes, language would come first. There are many cultures that lived (even thrived) without having a true writing system, and did just fine because the culture had such an emphasis on oral tradition, or other ways in cementing their culture to the test of time. A lot of the Native American cultures come to mind. Nowadays, however, there's been an effort to have them written so they aren't lost because…colonialism. I don't really need to explain that, but I do think the history is important to understand (the linguist in me is also morbidly fascinated). In summary, however, the way in which these cultures were torn apart rattled people, and people saw their way of life was evaporating with every person lost. They couldn't leave anything physical behind.

I do bring this contrast to light, however, because there is a detail to understand about an apocalyptic setting, and its relationship with written word: it's reflective of what society fell. If the society before was like a lot of the Native cultures, where their culture was recorded through oral traditions and other practices, then sure, I would expect the people left behind to be "illiterate". …at least, in terms of writing. They're literate in those oral traditions and practices.

But, that's not TWDG. What we have is a society that is reliant on writing. So much of our world is articulated through an alphabet printed onto a surface.

In any case, back to the apocalyptic setting.

Another thing is, yes, we do see language come before writing. In survival, it does land people in situations where it's "I don't have time, I've been starving, I'm going to grab all the food in this place before the books." Of course. Then you have that books are heavy. You're not going to realistically carry a library around. You're going to choose other things that would help immediately.

Like a knife. Or a gun.

Those do better bashing heads in than a book (but a tome wouldn't do that bad).

Here's the thing though. To step back to how reliant our society is on writing, I don't think people realize just how much they read. (Hint: you're reading right now. You had to read in order to navigate this page.) So here's the follow images of things that, in an apocalypse, are pivotal for survival, and requires of you reading comprehension:

Signs. Food labels. First Aid labels. Maps. Manuals. Guidebooks.

You need to know where you're at. You need to understand what it is you're eating, how to cook it, and quality (ex: expiration). You need to understand first aid, what you're working with and how to apply it. You need to know where you're going. If you have equipment (like, say, a car) that you're not privy to, but need it, you need to learn basic maintenance. If you're not familiar with how to do certain activities (how to make jerky, how and where to put your urine/fecal matter), you can learn in a guidebook.

Literacy is about self-sufficiency. And each of these represent different aspects of how to live off of the scraps of a failed society.

Signs are pretty straightforward. They're articulated landmarks, and given how streets are, they're good to follow for navigation. If they're signs for complexes, they're a good way to know where you should scavenge should you be looking for a specific thing. Ex: hardware supplies; you're trying to build a camp. Either it's get lucky, or go over to someone's garage, or go over to a hardware store.

Food and First Aid labels are different things—the way they're organized is very different—, however, they serve the same purpose: those are there to inform consumers how to eat/utilize. Even though each have a very specific language, they are designed so that people not specialized in food or medicine can use them. This also applies to a lot of agriculture. Things like seed packets. Or anything that can be planted. If it has a consumer-base, there's a label on it. If it doesn't have instructions, it will most likely inform what it is.

Maps is where we start to get into more "optional" territory. Do you necessarily need a map to survive? No. It would be a life-saver to know where you are, even away from where the society was established. It would also tell you where the next town vs city is (which, to someone like Clementine who may be inclined to avoid cities, she would know which roads to take).

Manuals and guidebooks, again, are the same. They also fall into the kind of thing where weight now has to be considered.

But. Here's the thing: how many people know how to go camping? How many people were ever in boy/girl scouts? And how many more people didn't have to learn any of that because society promised security and the fact that…we don't need to focus on survival?

Okay sure, go on and on and on about how people who knew those skills already and prepped for the apocalypse would be the ones to survive. Because, uh, don't know about you, that's not necessarily how that works (luck is always a thing, and people surprise you), but also, within TWDG, I can only come up with so many people who would fall into that camp: Lilly, Mark, maybe Larry (military experience), Christa (got the vibe), Pete. Um… …Carver? He talked about, like, sheep and stuff. In reference to people, sure, but like… Uh. Hm. Well shit.

You know all the people who didn't have the experience before the apocalypse? Everyone. Fucking. Else. Including Clementine.

This is the reason why manuals and guidebooks are invaluable. They speak to a luxury because you do have the space and capacity to carry them around, so that you can gather what knowledge they have. And people just don't know this shit. Community helps, because you may meet someone who does, or has read up on it, so you don't have to. But when you're alone? …kinda a really, really good thing to have.

And none of that is going into how important books are in just passing the time. People get bored. Books are nice if you got a bum leg.

Regardless, my point should be quite clear. Sure, reading and writing will not be important in the same immediate regard, and neither will be as prolifically done as it was before. Within an apocalypse, it's not about texting, or emails, or news reports, or essays… None of that. Ergo, they're designated as an investment that weighs heavy (quite literally). It takes time to read. It takes strength and space to lug them around. You may not have any.

However. With all of what I raised, it goes back why it is, actually, so fucking important to be literate to some capacity. And to build upon that literacy. Because these people are not just living in caves. They're not in a place where humans have never gone before—quite the opposite.

Which makes it an apocalypse.

In order to navigate within the carcass of a fallen society, you need to be able to comprehend the very scraps that you're taking from said society. It left behind food, and medicine, and tools, and machinery, and knowledge. To just put that all to waste because you can't read?! Really?!

And what about a life-and-death situation where it entirely depends upon your skills in being able to read and comprehend information given to you?

I'm going to go back to the vancomycin now.

It's not something the game harps upon, but it is significant enough to Clementine's arc in S3. This medicine, regardless of injection, is why she could not see A.J, and why she had such a resentment for the New Frontier. They said they could help. In her eyes, they instead left him to die.

It is also a significant point of interest as far as this essay is concerned. Because this scene alone encapsulates all of what I'm rattling on about:

The medicine itself is a scrap of her past society. They're not making these anymore, and while I can…question how good that medicine would be by this point in time after the apocalypse (shots do have an expiration date; they also need to be stored appropriately, like in refrigerators or freezers), the vancomycin represents a limited, valuable resource.

Clementine's comprehension of what this medicine is, and why she needs it, speaks to something far from an ignorance medically. She is competent. She even knows to ensure there aren't air bubbles trapped in the syringe (hence why she lets some of the drug out before injecting; air bubbles can lead to…really nasty ways to die).

How she actually knows which drug to use, well… Either someone wrote it down for her, or she wrote it down herself. Maybe Dr. Lingard told her, or she found a resource somewhere and realized that's what she needed. It speaks to literacy, despite the challenge medical terms often have—even for medical professionals themselves.

This…is what it takes to live in an apocalypse. You have to be perceptive, and resilient, and adaptive.

Part of that adaptation is being perceptive of your environment. This environment asks you to read it—because it says everything, wears its heart on its sleeve. Ergo, you have to adapt by learning how to read.

Maybe not novels, or scriptures, but specific things. Like signs, or labels. Maps.

But this comic, it falls into a bias that a lot of people have.

And that bias bothers me. A lot.

[Why Does This Hurt Me So?]

There are three reason why this just does not work for me.

First of which, Clementine's characterization. The continuity of it. I really don't have to go on about this, since if I do, I'd just regurgitate all of what I've established before. For the sake of this section, it's just that Clementine is medically competent, just not in a specialized sense, and she knows how to read to get by. (She even starts to teach A.J how to both read and write.)

Now we'll get to the larger points of discussion.

Secondly...

How the fuck did Tillie Walden get this project?

Say what you want about the artstyle, or the characterizations, or the narrative. None of that is really what this essay is on, but are all viable criticisms down this same line of thought. You have the artstyle being very whimsical…, but…since when has TWDG been about whimsy? Or the characterizations? Which…, by now, we know about that—again, I don't need to regurgitate. Then, the narrative too? Why does it read like a romance by the time the second book comes around, rather than a story of survival?

Actually, that last one may be relevant to this after all.

Walden does not write apocalyptic works. Of course, there is no correct way in writing an apocalypse, but I'd argue this is one of the wrong ways. Not only do these comics misinterpret the bulk of Clementine's character, and precisely why she's been able to survive as long as she has—to the point where her playing the games at all is put into question—, these comics also have a strange notion on basic intelligence, and does the thing where people without school are just…stupid, almost, if not plainly illiterate.

It goes against what I've outlined as a mark of an apocalyptic setting—the survival both within nature, and within the rotting shell of the society it once was.

And, it feeds into this bias that I keep bringing up.

That bias is the third reason, and it's not a comment on Walden herself, because she's far from the only person I've seen/heard make the same assumption(s).

The bias I refer to is what I'd like to call the Modern Intelligence Fallacy. I'm confident that I and this essay are far from the first to comment on this…thing people do.

Essentially, it's whenever people judge the past and/or present group of people for being "dumber" than the current society they're based on, solely because "we're modern; we have technology, and medicine, and schools. And we know how to read and write too." It's when people undermine other cultures and/or time periods because they themselves are ignorant to what intelligence actually means.

Going back to Native Americans, and any cultures alike that didn't have a written structure. I've heard people make comments and assumptions, rather ignorant ones. But the fact is, no. The lack of a writing system is not indicative of intelligence, it's indicative of what the culture valued, and how they wanted to express that.

Part of why writing is such a core element in many European cultures, for example, is because…colonization. Look at English, and why it's such a patchwork language. They had to find ways to communicate long distance, because have of them were separated be countries between. Ergo, they wrote. Nowadays, there's telephone, or video. Then, there are other contexts which beckoned for writing, but I digress.

With a lot of these Native cultures, they valued community. That's why so many of their traditions fall within that, and that's how they communicated and passed down their history. Essentially, they just found other ways to do what the other cultures around the world were doing, and it worked for them, so what of it?

The attitudes behind this fallacy doesn't care, however. This bias does put value on the presence of language in written word in regards to intelligence, and an overall sense of superiority.

Yes, I've gone through and maintained that I do not believe, for a second, that Clementine is illiterate, and I've been defending that tooth and nail. I also do put value in language—I'm a writer, and I love linguistics. Of course I do.

And that's the awkward bent in this essay.

So, I must say, the thing to understand is…it's not really about the language itself. It's the attitudes behind the bias.

You here to argue that Clementine isn't as competent reader/writer like a girl her age would be now? (…present issues with the school system aside,) yeah. Probably.

But then why…does the comic have her be negligent with medicine? To the point where it comes across as, "Yeah, Clementine! Clean your wound! Everybody should know that! And that's just the basics!

"Silly kid in an apocalypse! She needed a grown adult to carefully explain it to her!! Oh boy, we would be so lost without our society now!"

This is why I've also taken note on the medical throughout all this. Because the medical practices aren't really related to literacy. You can be told, like Clementine was in the games, and go from there.

In the comics, however, the moments where she's told about how to take care of her leg, and the moments where she is learning how to read… They read the same. Because they are the same. They're commenting on this weird idea that humans would be stupid without our current advances, which is ridiculous because in order to have said advances…, we needed to be learning this shit before in order to create them.

These moments come from this Modern Intelligence Fallacy, and it bothers me because, let's face it, we're just as smart as we've always been.We have more knowledge. Whether it's we pass them down through specific traditions, or we've written them down to share beyond time and distance. But in terms of intelligence… No.

Do you know how many stupidass people there are out there?

There's tons of them. If anything, there's more of them now because they can rely on their communities to do the heavy lifting. And they saddle themselves right beside the people who need to rely on others, and not by choice.

I'm talking as though I'm not one of them. I don't know. I might be.

I did accidentally melt two plates in microwaves on two separate occasions so. If you want to take my words with a grain of salt, fine.

With that, though, hopefully my point(s) came across well enough.

[Conclusion]

And now I am left here. With…this.

I'm not as resigned as I was of TWDG since the comics came out, because quite frankly, there's so much to these comics where…it just feels like I'm not watching Clementine. Whether it be I'm on a couch silently judging someone else play the games, but nodding along to play nice, or just…this isn't the character at all… Yeah, I'm still stewing on it. But, I have my fanfiction, and I have the games. It is easy to ignore the comics.

The reason why I've decided to write this is 1) I find it interesting, 2) the bias people have is SUCH a pet peeve of mine, and 3) I am BAFFLED by Skybound. I honestly don't know what qualified Tillie Walden to write this, to the point where I'm frankly impressed.

It's one thing to hire someone who's unfamiliar with the franchise in hopes of an objective and new perspective, or an artstyle to try something new and unique...

And entirely another to hire someone who either isn't interested in writing, or doesn't know how to write, the genre. There are so many ways to go about writing in an apocalypse, but at its core, it will always be "no matter what, humans are going to human." This is how you can have stories of hope in an apocalypse. Or have them be bleak. And so on. With TWD, it's always been a meld of both.

Because it's human are going to human, this…bias towards any scenario where people are not traditionally educated gets in the way. Because "traditional education" is not traditional, actually. It's societal. What is traditional is people learning an array of skills to survive, much of which is medicinal, and with writing… That's dependent on the environment. Way back when, in times where the world didn't rely on literacy, absolutely not many people would be literate. But in eras where so much hinges on at least being able to navigate?

Or or, in times where you are relying on a recent past that did write and read as much as it did for survival? Um. Yeah. You do need to be able to at least read, if not write as well, for communication's sake. Which I didn't go much into, but oh well.

And this right here is what TWD is set in. This universe isn't a hard reset. You're effectively just going back a couple hundred years. All the infrastructures and scraps left behind are still there, just not maintained.

So… Yeah. I don't get it. The most I can fault Walden for is being negligent, but this is just…Skybound, not caring enough about this story to the point where they'll hire anybody for some reason.

I also don't get the bias people have about intelligence, and stuff, but I really…, really don't want to go on a spiel again. It incites violence within me. I've already gone and done a mini spiral over the comics themselves, and they were kinda but not even the point.

Ah well. I'll just crawl back to my hovel now. The links to some of the linguistic concepts I raised are below, if you want to do any additional research. The specific articles are more generalized to give a broad picture, but can be used as a jumping off point should they pique an interest.

I'm just gonna continue to write about my alcoholic Clementine.

Hope you enjoyed.

:)

Linguistic Articles:

History of Writing Systems (1), (2) ; Language Acquisition (1)

Native American Language History (1), (2), (3)

[plaguethewaters]

little superhero au thingie!! except the superhero part is super duper nonexistent and this chapter is litterally just cbeeduo proposal. Enjoy!

---

"You've gotta forgive me, because I'm about to get really sappy here."

Ranboo says, and Tubbo thinks it's awfully ironic. It's night, brilliant stars shining over them - the only true advantage of no public lighting at all - they're on the roof, sitting on the thickest blanket they own and huddling together for whatever warmth they can find, the few remnants of their picnic laid abandoned to the side. They've been out all evening, eating sweets and heart shaped sandwiches, because Ranboo had always been a little extra. He thinks, we've gotten past the sappiness threshold a whole lot ago, and also, there's no way whatever you've got to say could be worse than this romance novel ass- situation.

His hand is taken into Ranboo's, who starts rubbing at his knuckles with his thumb. He does that often, when he's nervous - but also, Tubbo muses, he's nervous about pretty much every single aspect of his life, so this isn't anything new. Then he starts talking, with a way too big, almost suspicious smile on his face, his voice low.

"You know I don't- I don't think I've ever been as happy as I am now. I didn't know this kind of happy even existed, I think, not until you two came into my life." His gaze is soft and, as previously anticipated, unworldly sappy. "You've made me truly content with my life in entirely new ways, and continue to do so every single day. I can't really imagine my future without you in it."

"You're making this sound like a marriage proposal, bossman." Tubbo giggles, just to lighten the mood. Mostly because he's right, and he does not know if he could survive the weight of a love so, so fucking ginormous, settled on his shoulder's like the world's heavier and softer mountain, not without a little comedic relief.

"I mean..." Ranboo kisses his hand, doing a so-and-so gesture with his free one, "Kind of?"

The mountain doesn't move, and Tubbo's suffocating. This is not how he imagined he would die.

"I-uh. sorry?" he manages to shutter, while his mind helpfully supplies him with a series of his possible obituaries. "Young man dies of Too Much Emotion.". or "Romantic relationship actually a trap, Villain dies because Boyfriend loves him too much." (Boyfriend? Fiancè????? What the absolute hell.)

"I mean, i mean not now, obviously that's- that would be a little too much to dump on you so soon." Ranboo laughs, clearly as nervous as he looks. "Just, like, I've prepared a whole speech, goddammit, let me say it properly."

Tubbo sees the light. His heart is definitely going to explode.

"Okay I've, I've started this a little wrong. Because I said, right, I said, I can't imagine my life without you, but it's more like, like, I couldn't have imagined my life without you. I would've never even tried. I don't think I realized I could imagine a life for myself outside- outside of hero work. I either died at fifteen - or, or seventeen, or twenty, or whatever limit I decided to give myself that year - or got an eternity of work, no escape at all. Then, then you, and Tommy, and suddenly I'm dreaming of white picket fences and wedding bells and large breed dogs and- did you know I was a writer? When I was little, I used to have notebooks over notebooks full of short horror stories, and then I stopped because with housework and normal work and trying not to starve I never had the time - you've made me want to write again. You made me realize I could dream, and follow those dreams and succeed."

The speech comes out rushed, all too many words confined in all too little space, too little time. He sounds like he's afraid if he doesn't speak soon enough, someone is going to come and steal his voice, leaving his feelings forever entrapped.

His gaze shifts, and now he's staring directly into Tubbo's eyes. The intensity is overwhelming, oppressive, painful. His eyes bore into Tubbo's skull with the force of a drill, carving a hole from his eye socket to the center of his brain, then making a little cave in it and resting in it's center.

"I don't- marriage right now would not be a good idea, I don't think, but? Maybe, in the future... Will you marry me?"

Their stares break, and the parasite removes itself from Tubbo's poor, poor brain. Then he's playing with Tubbo's fingers, looking blushy and shy to the side - because of course he's nervous now, after completely destroying him, leaving unable to think anything but an infinite sting of I love yous and wondering how on earth he got this lucky and fuck. Tubbo would die a thousand times over if it got him to look this pretty again.

What the hell was he supposed to say now? He isn't, and has never really been good with words, not when actions and punches have always done the job just as well - how could he speak now, having been hit in the face with a confession like that? With the, the- he would call it the burden, he guesses, but that's just entirely the wrong word - the responsibility, the knowledge he's the reason Ranboo was able to grow and get through all of that, given to him like it is no big deal. He would've never thought of that. In fact, he was worried he'd been doing way too little support wise, lacking the knowledge and emotional maturity needed to properly help someone like that.

Like even now, after the whole speech, he still isn't all that convinced. All he ever did was love Ranboo - which isn't news, and would continue not to be news as far as he's concerned. He loves him, will love him even if he somewhat disagrees with the confession, because how could he be possibly worth so much in Ranboo's eyes, who deserves so much more than he could possibly give, and he loves him so much - but he does not know how to say any of that.

So, he just kisses him.

And again, and again, trying to push into his lips anything that cannot fit into his mouth and failing still, but nobody's to say he doesn't fucking try. When he stops, it's because his traitorous body runs out of air to breathe, but he still keeps as close as possible, resting his forehead on Ranboo's. If he has to stop to breathe, they'll fucking share the breaths too.

----

Ranboo has learned, by now, that Tubbo kisses like he's fighting.

Mostly by way of focus and determination: he kisses with the same kind of concentration one might have when operating a sniper rifle - or, much more topically, when defusing a tickling bomb. There's no second in which he's idle, any rest clearly ruled by strict necessity rather than any want or will. When he does retreat, surrendering finally to the need of air, he doesn't part neither far nor long, touching their foreheads together or breathing in his neck, his hands mapping all available territory to make way for later exploration.

Ranboo has seen him battle, has fought him directly in the past, and he finds no difference between the crushing adrenaline of a missed punch, of wrestling for a loaded gun, of running towards a lit fuse - and whatever he is feeling right now.

A hand finds its way to his thigh, squeezing the soft flesh, and the little air he'd managed to keep in his poor lungs gets knocked out of him. Maybe they are in battle, actually. Maybe killing him is Tubbo's way of saying no.

Because - and he's said this already, but his brain is too scrambled to pay attention to something as utterly unimportant as repetition (anything less important than this). Because he's used to Tubbo, to the way he seems to equate love and war, to the almost violence of his affections but this feels... different, somehow. Somewhat. He's not focused enough to register what's actually changed.

Maybe it's the way his mind had already been lost in the anxiety of the moment, before his little speech, and the suspense for an answer now; or maybe it's just the thick layer of tears evenly coating each of their faces.

Which, by the way, does not help to ease his worries at all, to be entirely honest. Not that - don't get him wrong, it's not that the kissing isn't nice (heavenly, wonderful, amazing, showstopping and a plethora of other words that do not even come close) but it doesn't really enlighten him as to what Tubbo's answer is going to be. Is this a "Yes of course I'm going to marry you" type of kiss or more, like, "No how dare you ask that I'm kissing you just so you shut up" deal?

(Now, a normal person, in a hypothetical fictional audience, would probably butt in right about now with, let's say, a text to speech device of some sort. And they would say, with all the confidence of anonymity, they'd say: "Ranboo, this is a really stupid dilemma. Why would he ever choose to reject with a kiss? Nobody does that ever." And they would probably be right! But the hand is still on his thigh, and another hand is rubbing slow circles into his waist, and the kiss is still happening, so forgive him if his reasonings aren't all that rational right about now.)

He manages to detach himself eventually - not easily, not even particularly willingly - for the few moments absolutely necessary to regain a couple braincells and learn how to use his own mouth again.

"Uh- U, I, Is this-" Not to use it well, mind you, but he isn't going to complain. he'll take what he can get and deal with it. "Uhu-"

"What was that, bossman?" Tubbo giggles, voice still raspy from the assault to his lips, and Ranboo finds it somewhat insulting; loquacity is an absurd standard to hold for the guy currently being lobotomized.

"Wh- was that, uh" Tubbo's hand is slowly rubbing at his cheek in what was probably meant to be encouragement, but only manages to scramble his brains even more. "Was that a yes?

"No."

His stomach plummets.

He knows, logically, that he should not have expected anything. They've been dating for not even a year, and this was sprung on Tubbo so suddenly, and everyone always say to never ask if you aren't sure your partner will say yes but Ranboo will never be sure of anything in his life (at least not how he was sure this would've worked) and he needed to ask like, physically. And at the end of the day it's not like this is gonna mean anything for their relationship, because ring or not he knows Tubbo loves him (maybe, hopefully, because he cannot begin to imagine the contrary, it would tear him apart), but he had dared to hope-

"No," Tubbo continues, "I've just started making out with you, because that is how normal people reject proposals in real life." He's smiling, still caressing his cheek, and Ranboo wants to die a little less. He pointedly ignored the disembodied voice of the fictional audience member reminding him how they were right. (Just because you were doesn't mean you gotta act mean about it. Meanie.)

He groans, quite loudly, so that all of his horrible pain is heard, and hides his shameful face in the warm crook of Tubbo's neck.

"Never start a sentence like that ever again, for the love of god."

Tubbo laughs, bright and loud. "Oh, you poor baby", he croons, mockingly. Ranboo is being made fun of, but the guy doing it is exceptionally beautiful and also his fiance now, so all the haters are quite obviously just jealous.

"You're right though," Tubbo continues, "I wasn't quite finished answering."

Whatever smart, flirty and witty reply Ranboo could have given him gets swallowed by a chocking sound, as the push of lips and the warmth of hands pull him onto yet another battlefield.

---

"You know what would be really, really funny actually?" Tubbo asks, after everything is done. He's basically sitting in Ranboo's lap now, only one lonely knee left hanging on the blanket. They cuddle together tighter, mostly because they want to, but also because it got so cold on that roof once the sun went down and now it feels far below freezing.

"Hmmmm..." he rumbles, a content rumble (NOT. a purr. shut up.) so loud it almost hides his voice. "No, what would?"

"If we just pretended to be married already." Tubbo sits up a little bit.

"Just like. Hear me out."

"I'm hearing, I'm hearing."

"Okay, for one - we've got like, another full year before we would be able to actually get married and you and I both know I've got zero patience to wait that long. And we're like, super wanted criminals, so nobody would want to marry us even if we were legal, right?"

"Absolutely correct."

"And also. Think of the Bitches faces when we get into battle against them and we have wedding bands on, calling each other 'husband' and shit"

A pause.

"Oh, oh my god" They both start laughing at the same time, falling back into the blankets in a mountain of little giggles. The thought is, as expected, absolutely hilarious, and with the added giddiness of being able to be husbands, of loving each other that much - it doesn't look like they'll be stopping anytime soon.

The moon is high in the sky, the cold is still frigid, and their laughs are loud enough for several noise complaints. Tonight, they hug each other and go to bed. Tomorrow, chaos would begin for real.

[fishsticksloser]

can I request found-family teen!with the turtles? or future leonardo?(angst angst-)

Out of Harm's Way

f!Raph + gn!reader

Warnings: mention of death, injuries, tending to injuries, angst, platonic fluff, swearing

A/N: Who doesn't love angst? This takes place in 2030. Mikey is 25, the twins are 26, Raph is 27. Reader is around 7 and it's unspecified if reader is human, mutant, or yo'kai (meaning born right after the Kraang invasion started). I chose Raph because I feel he doesn't get enough love. :) Raph renames you because I hate using y/n.

Your breath was heavy as you tried to run across what looked like a battle field. Ruins of buildings before your time looked pushed aside to make the large clearing. Thankfully, there was no fighting going on at the moment.

You had been at a colony around Newark, but it had been attacked. You fled with a few others in the colony, hoping to make it to the one in the city. But now you were alone. Kraang dogs attacked and you got separated. You were most likely the only one that made it.

Tired, you collapsed. You didn't know where the entrance to the colony was, you just had to hope someone would find you. All you could do is curl up and cry.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ⋆｡❤️ ｡⋆꒱ ˎˊ˗

"There's something outside." Raphael points to the form on the ground.

"Let me see." Donatello pushes Raph away from the security screen. "Shelldon, scan it."

The A.I. took a moment to scan the form. "It's a child."

"Alone? Are you sure?" Donnie asks.

"Do I look like something that would make a mistake?" Shelldon sighs.

"Are they Kraang-ified?" Raph presses.

"They seem to be clear." Shelldon replies.

"We should go out and help them." Raph turns and goes towards the gate.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ⋆｡❤️ ｡⋆꒱ ˎˊ˗

You hear something open, immediately jumping up to run. You look around wildly, trying to find out which way isn't safe, when you spot a big turtle man in red.

"It's alright, just breathe, okay?" He crouched and held his and out to you. "My name is Raphael. I'm here to take you somewhere safe, okay?"

You nod and race to him. He caught you, picking you up gently and walking towards a hole in the ground. Once inside, it slid closed. You 2 went through a few more doorways, all locking behind you, before you saw lights and heard people. Raphael walked away from it, towards a quieter area.

"You'll be safe here." He gently sets you on a bed. You look around seeing medical equipment. You start to panic a little. "It's okay, it's okay. We just want to make sure you're not hurt."

"Raph!" A blue clad turtle comes running in. "Why the hell did you go outside? There wasn't a threat!" Instead of answering, Raphael stepped aside. Blue looked at you, surprised. "Are they alright?"

"That's what we're gonna see." A purple one pushed Blue aside. He had giggles on and played with something on his wrist. He brought over a small med kit, rolling over on a stool.

"These are 2 of my brothers. Leo," Raph motions to Blue. "And Donnie."

"Where did you come from?" Donnie asks, patching up a few cuts on your arms and legs.

"Newark." You squeak as Donnie applies alcohol.

"That's over 300 miles." Leo comes closer. "You came by yourself? Did you walk all the way here?"

"Newark fell..." You look at your hands. "I wasn't alone... until..."

Tears began falling. You hadn't been able to fully come to terms with what happened, constantly on edge. Constantly aware of everything around you, just trying to survive.

"Shh, please don't cry." Raphael places a hand on your shoulder. "You're safe here now. I'm sure they'd be happy to know that."

"What's your name?" Donnie asks, handing you a sandwich and water. You shrugged. "You don't have one?"

"It wasn't very important... I guess Kid." You sniff.

"That's a terrible name." Raphael groans. "I'll come up with something for you or you can pick your own."

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ⋆｡❤️ ｡⋆꒱ ˎˊ˗

"Their vitals are normal for someone who hasn't had food and water in at least 3 days..." Donnie sighs, leaning back in his chair.

"No offense, I know it's a kid," Leo began. "Are we sure they're not a threat?"

"They're not Kraang-ified if that's what you're asking." Donnie answers, spinning to face his twin.

"Look, Shelldon told us Newark was attacked, their story lines up. Plus they look to be around 7 years old, they probably can't answer many of the questions you have." Raph points out.

"As much as I hate to say it, Raph does have a point." Donnie twirls a pen in his fingers. "What they need is rest and nutrition. They'll probably have some trauma, we can deal with that as it comes."

"I can't imagine what they went through out there..." Raph closes his eyes in pain.

"I'm just wondering how a child can get through 3 days out there alone." Leo frowns. "Just keep your eyes open."

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ⋆｡❤️ ｡⋆꒱ ˎˊ˗

Night after night, you had nightmares. You didn't want to bother the turtles, but you weren't sleeping. One night you finally decided to sneak to Raphael's room.

"Hey... Are you okay?" Raph sits up, placing his hand on your face reassuringly.

"C-can you... hold me for a while?" You mumbled.

"Of course." He laid back down, lifting his arm so you could snuggle underneath.

Raph was a comforting being in your messed up world. After that first night, you 2 became inseparable.

Raphael spent a lot of time with you, coming up with names, and just taking care of you. You both went through color names, Renaissance names, nothing seemed to fit.

"I think I got it." Raphael sits on the edge of your bed. You crawl into his lap, he was much to big for your bed. "What about Phoenix?"

"Phoenix?" You ask.

"Yeah... They're mythical birds that burn up and rise out of their ashes..." Raph shruggs. "I think... But that's what you've done. You are healthy and safe now."

You don't say anything. You wanted to think about it, maybe hear others say it.

"Or... We could look more." Raphael quickly says. He worried he might have upset you.

"I like it." You hug him. He wraps his arms around you, standing up to reintroduce you to his family. He walks into the dinning room where they're all sitting.

"This is Phoenix." Raphael smiles, he sets you on the ground.

"Oh mi gosh, that's perfect!" Mikey beams.

"It's nice to meet you, Phoenix." Splinter hugs you. The others also greet you, using your new name. You turn to look at Raphael, grinning.

[icharchivist]

Like for all the flaws Crisis Core has, despite the ending being set in stone because you Know what's going to happen, despite not being super subtle especially in its heavy handed dialogues, despite the tragedy and all, Crisis Core didn't make itself about fate. Despite Genesis constantly quoting about the fate being cruel and the seemingly inescapable degenerecence of the cells, it doesn't end up being about fate. In fact Zack gets ANGRY at Genesis and Angeal just embracing the horrors happening to them because "it's Fate anyway" and Zack is mad that they don't even TRY to think outside of it.

About what makes a man a man and what makes it a monster? at which moment can you end up denying your own humanity when you become a cog of the system? Heroism, Propaganda, and self actualization? The way you carry on the memories of the people you loved and lost? What is a Legacy, are you fighting for yourself or are you fighting for a future you will not see? There is this idea about how the odds are overwhelming, but it's still up to you to choose to end it in your own terms. The Price of Freedom is Steep ect.

Like i find it interesting to bring up because CC's main developer is the one who moved to ff15 that ended up being about the overwhelming inescapability of Fate, and that somehow the REMAKE is the one who made itself about Fate, while if any game of the ff7 compilation could have, it's CC right here?

LIKE maybe i totally have rose colored glasses but it's just. super noteworthy to me?

more spoilers on CC ends but

Like especially with the slot system and the way it goes haywire in the last fight, it really gives me more this feeling of constantly testing your luck, constantly testing the odds, and the ending is only set by the roll of a dice. You didn't get the good luck of a drawn and all of that.

while it's the game that COULD have been all about fate, but the tragedy isn't because the fate is sealed before the story even begin. It's tragic because no matter what breaks him, no matter how much he keeps losing, Zack continued to keep on trying the odds and test his luck until he runs out of it. The Slot breaks because Zack breaks before he can even unlock his last roll.

idk man i'm just babbling but just because you have to prepare for a major character death doesn't mean "oh well, that's how fate has decided it". There's so many other way to approach it like. man.

like i think one of the thing with CC that gets to me is really this slot system and the way you keep trying your luck. you KNOW Zack will not make it past the final fight. but when the slots roll you hold on hope. the slots will stop on everyone that matters to Zack and then the memories powering the slot will get corrupted. because Zack doesn't have the strength to fight anymore and it's fading at his finger tips.

the tragedy of CC is that until the last moment it makes you feel like this time you'll roll the good combinaison and win. until you ran out of luck kid.

Tragedy not because it couldn't end any other way. Tragedy because it leaves you hoping that it could have.

And like... While the whole fate thing is left in the Remake, i'm assuming it's why also without the Fates encouraging it, Zack ends up surviving his last stand in the other timeline. Because if it's all about luck, then he just needs to get lucky once, and he would make it through. ... but now that it's framed as "and before it was because Fate made sure he ran out of luck" kinda cheapens it.

idk man, i got into video games because my friend showed me the fight against Genesis and then the Last Stand and I Got It. I Understood the exact level of tragedy Crisis Core locks yourself into. because it really make you rely on luck so much that while the ending is set in stone, it just feels like bad luck instead of "it was fate anyway".

GRAAAAAAAAAAAAH.

Themes. I like Themes. I'm never going to be normal ever again huh.

[masked-disciple]

Turnabout is fair play! What have you been working on of late? :D

All right, I survived posting however many cyworlds that was so now I get to answer an ask. :p

Right now, I'm not actually working on anything: I probably wrote 250-400k of words in the past year (likely higher, I'd have to sit down and total it all) and I realized right around mid-November that I was quickly reaching burnout: writing was getting difficult, even when I had ideas, and I just felt exhausted.

So I speedran the rest of NaNoWriMo, finished on day 23 (the year before, I kept writing and landed with 70k, which was insane, this year I just tapped out once I hit 50k), and I haven't actually written anything since.

But, that doesn't mean I'm done writing! I'm just putting it on the backburner atm. When I get back into the swing of it, I want to finish off (read: do the second half of) my NaNo from a couple months ago, Turnabout Runaways, which is mostly focused on the Ace Attorney side of Sagiverse except for where it isn't. (There's a good chunk of Aethelian stuff in there, and I do absolutely intend to write the Saint Seiya fic in there. Just... once I get there, because I have to adjust the plot of that one to account for Myncroft Walden, who was absolutely alive during it, and that'll shift the plot a bit.)

Like the other big fics I've done this past year, it's an anthology, so I've mostly been just compiling oneshots. The major theme is obviously that each fic is about running away (mostly literally). It's going to keep the anthology theme of having interludes / prologues to each fic, but it also has the fun addition of every fic being split into three 'scenes', and every fic opening with lyrics from a Sirinnkata song!

(The Sirinnkata are a fictional band in Sagiverse, as well-known as the Beatles and surrounded by the mystery of why the two frontmen vanished off the face of the planet four hundred years ago after both of them had a very public mental breakdown. I've genuinely enjoyed telling their story exclusively through their music, which is funny because I can't write music to save my life.)

This is the entirety of my notes, minus Sirinnkata lyrics, for what's left. (The crossed out part on the right are the fics that are done.) Runaways is shaping up to be a lot longer than the three previous anthologies, so it may have to be split into two volumes, but like... that's a problem for future Pale, when I get back into the swing of things.

In the meantime, I've been organizing files, so uh - if you're reading this, Wavy or someone else, the next hundred and fifty or so posts on your dash is just me being queueblocked from posting Cyworlds. Sorry. ^^; (It's either rebageling cyworlds or sorting my DGS fanart folder until I can do my Neopets dailies, and there's fourteen hundred files in that folder. I'm doing my best here. :p)

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

I know your life isn't perfect, you speak explicitly about your struggles that you face day-to-day, but you've also lived a lot of life? Like I read your blog, and you've survived a fuck ton of shit. I don't know many older leftists--my family members certainly aren't ones, and talking to people around my age about the state of the world/lived experiences is wonderful, but it can also become so very sad, because we're not sure what to do. I'm a fresh 18-year-old, and I'm terrified of the future. Logically I know that I'm not obligated to complete the world's work, but I can't abandon it either. And that your loved ones, your community is what gives your life meaning under systemic oppression (Experiencing that firsthand where I'm finally making a few friends, and they fill my soul with life). But emotionally, I get so utterly sad, hyperfixating on what's bad when I'm away from my friends. Do you have any advice for living life while you're building that network of friends, figuring out your values, and carving out the life you want in whatever niches you can? Things you wish you could tell your younger self? I hope I'm not putting you on a pedestal, or stressing you out with this ask. I honestly would just like some words of comfort from someone older than me, who's POC, an activist, and also cares about a lot of the same things as me.

I absolutely don't think it's putting someone on a pedastal to ask questions like this! We all have different ways of surviving in this big wild world, and surviving often means different things for different people.

I do want to go ahead and speak to one piece of what you said though, just to make sure I don't wind up appearing to say something I'm not. I'm not a person of color, at least, I have never experienced myself that way. I am many things, including a person in a mixed race family, a person for whom older generations of my family were not considered white during their lifetimes (that doesn't mean that I'm not considered white now though, or even that some of those relatives aren't considered white now), and a person who has a lot of loved ones in a lot of different iterations of global politics. I try to talk about the things that impact people that I love in ways that I have come to understand over a lifetime they often speak of it themselves. If you want to hear from an actual person of color on these topics, you may want to reach out to my wife, @loreofthejungle, who has lived through all of my last ten years or so with me, and has her own experiences with activism and survival politics outside of me.

Something I have learned about carving out space though, you have to really and truly look at that space as if you have every right to inhabit it. Not just that you *should* have every right, or that people generally should have the right to space as needed. You, personally, have the right to inhabit space simply because you have the desire to do so.

Does that mean you will always be able to succeed in occupying that space? No. But the reality of inhabiting it really isn't fathomable until you believe that your desire to exist in whatever manifestations please you is your birthright. How you might navigate inhabiting as much space as you wish while still reasonably allowing space for others requires first knowing what space you want to occupy and not immediately compromising it before ever negotiating that space with someone else. If no one else has given reason to believe that you occupation of that space is a problem, why are you pre-emptively making yourself small?

This is easier said than done obviously, lol, but learning how to ask yourself what you want for your life and understanding what shape you and your world would need to take in order to achieve it are skills that serve us well in life. Some of this is learning to stop acting on assumptions I've made that people haven't communicated, even if I am absolutely sure the assumption is correct. Subtext is one thing (and I still have plenty to say about that on my best days lol) but frankly if someone isn't willing or able to communicate their thoughts and needs to me, it cannot be my job to predict those thoughts and needs on their behalf. Not a fun dynamic, just breeds resentment on all sides.

I have been my most secure, in life, in activism, in community work, when I am able to meet my basic needs, when I acknowledge that caring for myself the way I care for my loved ones is itself a basic need, and when I take the time to think about what is reasonably within my control and what isn't.

Sometimes that looks like prioritizing what issues I get deeply invested in (e.g. dedicating personal time and resources to organizing and understanding it as opposed to making efforts to support other people doing that work). Sometimes that looks like taking space away from the internet and social media because frankly......ugh. I just don't always have the energy to both communicate effective organization strategies and also have literally any time to not be "on" during the day. Sometimes it means taking space from organizing almost entirely because my work itself is community and care oriented, and there are times that is all I have in me. Sometimes it means learning new skills and support strategies in order to continue organizing despite changes in my circumstances. Sometimes it means focusing down to a small local region and not worrying about the whole wide world for a while because my neighborhood or my town is all I can navigate for a bit.

I realize it's frustrating to hear over and over again "connect in person" or "get offline" but like.

The reason for that often has less to do with "oh online activism is worthless" and more to do with "radical organization does not occur online even if its PRODUCTS occur online, because there is no way for us to reasonably protect our members that way. You need to show up to video calls or in person meetings so we can talk with some measure of InfoSec." You're just not going to get a step by step/comprehensive guide of how to organize or how to get involved effectively online because doing so would innately make those access points unsafe and insecure. Beyond that, there simply aren't univeral strategies. There are historic or common methods used within organizing, but every situation calls for tailoring by those doing the work, because organizing will never be one size fits all. You don't get buy in from people when you impose structure top down, but organization is much more effective when those doing the work co-create it together.

The good news is, there are so many groups running organization trainings and groups, and the whole point is to help you cultivate your personal skills in an organizing capacity so you can apply them in ways that work for you. Thus the eternal call to join a union or other organizing body.

I think people forget that the act of community building IS the act of organizing, in many ways. When you make the time to be attuned with the people in your sphere, and talk with them openly and honestly about your needs and the needs of those in your community, you can make great strides, even without the weight of a full campaign behind you. It's amazing what the community is willing to come together and create once they find they pathways and cohesion to do so.

This got rambly, and covered a lot of different versions of my answer to your question. In the end, I think what I mean with all this is just....we're all human, and we're all figuring out this whole "being a person" thing together and regardless of what anyone tells you, no one really has it down. There aren't right answers to the problems that have plagued society for generations, but there can always be the very human intention to help each other figure out a better answer than we had before.

[missr3n3]

(time to get philosophical wooooo) (tw for heavily implied suicide)

The "Aurora cult" was created and is simultaneously being destroyed by the same person's aura

I visit and talk to my adoptive aunt a lot and she helped me a lot develop this way of looking at things: that Greed comes right after Pride

Since all of the books of the Bible were written two-three thousand years ago, let's put into perspective this: back in those days, working together was the best option to survive, and people lived with what they needed, not with what they wanted, and all the deadly sins except Pride involve wanting over needing

Pride is the original sin because it is the belief that you deserve more since you are better than others, and the other sins "descend" from it because they mean putting into action that belief and going against community traditions for balance

Greed is, as my aunt sometimes puts it, the act of keeping wanting and wanting and wanting but never feeling satisfied, like (and this is something Jesus says in reverse to a Samaritan woman I think) drinking water countless times, but feeling that your thirst never goes away

"Greed is like building a staircase to a huge void that everyone warns ya about, but ya just ignore all of them and keep doin' it. Then, when you're finally close enough to it to touch it, you realise everyone else was right, because now all you can do is stare at that void, because there's nothing else to achieve, because the staircase you built only goes up, now there's no going down anymore. And almost instantly you go and think "Sweet Jesus, I really shouldn't have done any of this, cause now that I'm where I thought I wanted to be, I see that it was never worth it!" but then it's a bit too late isn't it, honey?" -My super cool aunt <- feel free to quote her in the future if you want

(Now back to Six Sins because this isn't a philosophy class lmfao)

The cult people are driven by a goal that looks challenging but that they think can be achieved quickly, but the it's the mystery person's aura that really puts all I've said until now into perspective.

Suddenly, they stop and think "but what happens afterwards?" and all their power-hungry dream fantasies turn into existential nightmares, and that's not even counting any problems they might have outside of the cult.

And that is why so many of them have been found dead throughout the years, because way too quickly they are put face to face with that void, and very quickly too they realise they don't want to fall into its emptiness (immortality) , so the only viable escape they end up finding is falling into death instead

And the person doing it doesn't even realise they've created and are now annihilating a child sacrifice cult, because they don't even know they have a magical demonic aura

Tip : Relax a lot before going to bed tonight

-"Sina"

cults getting wrecked by the very thing they idolize, you love to see it! 🥰✨

[autistic-rizz-king]

I can't focus on school. I don't know how to explain my quotes because they seem intuitive to how they support my thesis. Also, most of my evidence is from subtext, inferring intention, or recognizing tropes, cliches, and real-world stereotypes. It feels like I'm chained to my bed every morning and I physically can’t get up until I’m late for school. I'm doing so many different things and it feels like too much but I don't know how to just not do them. I'm doing so many things and brushing my teeth is at the bottom of my list. It's something I can easily do but even more easily not. I don't know why I'm like this. I do. I have ADHD and probably autism. It's terrible. I love myself. I’m amazing. But I feel like my brain is constantly self-sabotaging me. I am currently on my period which is a week late because I just started taking a type of hormonal birth control to stop having a period. So my emotions are turned up to eleven. I had a crapy weekend and nothing else in the world right now is helping me feel less crappy.

I have no idea how much I should be prioritizing school. It's not more important than my mental or physical health. I don't think it's more important than my social life. If I fail it miserably or drop out, it's not the end of the world. My life will still go on, and I'll still have different options to survive. But also I'll end up in a box on the street if I don't go to college. Aperently. Both of these facts are according to every adult in my life currently. And they would know best right? They’ve done this all before. They have relevant wisdom to give me, yeah? I’ve never done this before. I have no idea what’s going to happen. I have no reference points at all.

For the past almost 10 years of my existence, my life has revolved around school. I need to finish the next big project or my life will end. I need to get good grades, not cause it matters, but to “build good habits for high school.” no, scratch that, you are still building habits for college. Which you have to go to. But don't feel pressured to go to one. Don't feel pressured to make a decision that will decide the course for the rest of your life. It probably won't even affect the rest of your life whatsoever. Then why even go??? Oh, you don't even have to think about that right now. You're still a freshman. You still have three years till college! But you definitely need to decide by your senior year. So it’s more like two years. Except you should probably already have it figured out by junior year so you can start taking steps to begin your future. So you get one more year free. But that's still a whole year!! unless you take a gap year of course. I don't even know what's up with that. But I literally don't have anything else going on in my life right now, so I might as well plan my whole future. I mean, nothing I'm doing right now matters. Other than getting good grades so my GPA isn't tanked during my senior year. But that's only if you're going to college.

Am I going to college? What else am I supposed to do? I've gone to school my whole life. What, am I just supposed to just stop? Nothing else matters except school. But that's not true. So I fill my life with other things that don't matter. Probably in hopes of proving my life doesn't revolve around school. But also, these things are straight-up fun to do. Am I supposed to care about school because it's my friend and wants to help me? It doesn't feel very helpful. It has consistently been the source of multiple burnouts and breakdowns.

All the upperclassmen that come into class to speak about their freshman year experience, they presented themselves as “delinquent kids” that “screwed their future-selves over” But it's ok! They were able to turn around and now they’re on track to have a successful life. And it's not too late for us!

Oh! Remember to start taking more challenging classes! Because colleges like a 3.8 GPA where you took very very challenging classes much more than a 4.0 GPA where you took very easy classes. So fill your schedual with AP and IB classes now! They don't care if you already cry yourself to sleep every night with just the basic core classes, everyone knows that every single person learns at the same level across all subjects!!!!!! BUT ALSO DON'T FUCKING WORRY ABOUT WHAT CLASSES YOU'RE TAKING RIGHT NOW YOU DUMB MORON!!! YOU'RE PUTTING TOO MUCH PRESSURE ON YOURSELF FOR NO REASON!!!!! You're doing this to yourself. Go to therapy.

I am in therapy. I'm talking about my feelings. And they're talking back to me. We are talking. I'm getting better at not exploding and doing something I'll regret later. Or regret getting punished. But the world is still shitty. I'm still forced to follow the court order the judge gave my parents when they were divorced. I'm still forced to let my father parent me even though he had no parenting experience. But I'm talking about school right now. I guess.

Oh, update. I just lost a big chunk of the data I collected for an experiment in physics I'm doing. No one else is doing my experiment. I'm working alone. I closed the tab and it didn't save. I actually think the project I'm doing is really fun. I'm testing how the height a marble is dropped from and the distance a loop de loop is from where the marble was dropped affects whether or not the marble makes it around the loop. The graph looked really cool and had very clearly defined zones in which the ball made it around, partially made it around, and fully made it around. I don't want to redo it. It takes way too long to set up the track at the right measurements. Oh and apparently a project worth a decent amount of my grade was deleted. My partner was in charge of recording and submission and some weird shit happened.

I don't care. I'm having a bad day. I want to go home. Except I feel incredibly guilty about skipping school because “important” stuff happens in school that can make it difficult for me to catch up. What if I just stop trying in school? I'd probably be a lot happier. If you ignore the immense guilt my loved ones will probably put on me. They’ll say, “But you were such a gifted kid! What happened??” I'm gifted because I'm neurodivergent. I'm exceptionally good at most stuff without trying when first starting out. So people think I don't need help. But suddenly “wait, I'm really struggling. I don't know what to do.” “what do you mean?? You were fine before. Other people your age are doing completely fine. They're getting decent grades, are in extracurriculars, and have grade social lives. And they're not complaining like this.” That’s a lie. My close loved ones probably wouldn't say that stuff. But living in this world is so tiring.

For all the hate I just gave about school, I do think a dedicated place to learn about the world is a very good idea. It’s just adults put an absurd amount of pressure on children to live up to their arbitrary standards. It's sickening. I want to violently unravel the existence of American society and live in a nomadic limbo for the rest of time. One more thing; the world is burning in every way imaginable and I plan my future to distract myself from the fact that I may not even have one.

[daily-thoughts96]

This whole roommate situation is starting to cause me to be overwhelmed and drained to the point where i don't know what to do with it anymore. My roommate seems to lack understanding of how i'm feeling in this situation. He doesn't care except for my husbands point of view on everything. Involving me just makes him pissed off and angry for no absolute reason. He talks about my husband making changes in his life, but he changed too? My husband changed for a better future, not changing who he is as a person. But my roommate changed as a person. He's not who he says he is and his behavior is beyond my imagination. You'd think therapy would be an outlet to let him know how to properly heal and approach situations. I haven't involved any friends or family in our situation until we were told he was talking to other people. He's told more than three people about the situation and yet, we've only told two friends and my sister about what is happening right now. We didn't involve anyone. We discussed how difficult life has been, but never extended into the whole situation. We kept it on the down low and thought it would be better to keep it between the people who are on the lease of the apartment. Times are tough, but our roommate made it worst. I detect his lies when he speaks about certain things. A liar to me can be spotted a mile away. When you grow up with narcissistic parents, you catch on to lies after cutting them out of your life for good. Now, i wish the situation was better, and not so gruesome, but he made it clear what his intentions are. We are starting to plan ahead with apartments, manufactured homes, or campers to decide what our next place to go is. This whole situation isn't new to us, and we are struggling with the high prices just as much as anyone else is. It's difficult and unruly. We are expected to get our life together, but the economy is screwing with that. Jobs screwing us over, or more so bosses at those jobs. We are expected to live bland, and small. No love to our home. No decor, not comfort. Nothing. We are living within our means, and sometimes we splerg on ourselves because we need a little pick me up. My husband and i aren't perfect by all means. We make mistakes. We don't have it figured out. Some people don't figure it out until they are fifty, or not even at all. My husband and i are in survival mode, and nothing compares to anything else. Would we like to be in a better place? Yes. But sometimes life is just so fucked. This roommate situation is just repeating factors. Except this time i'm being told we are using our roommate, which is wrong on all parts. Some people see using as, you refuse to pay for things. You refuse to help. But my husband and i aren't like that. We want to make sure we do our part, but right now it's not easy. My view of using a person is draining them of every penny they got. I don't ask my roommate for money to pay for our groceries. I don't ask him for money to pay for our hygeine products. I don't ask him to drive me everywhere i need to go. I don't ask him to feed my cat. I don't ask him to pay my other bills(not including rent with those bills). I know how it feels to be drained of every penny. My biological birth giver drained my husband and i of money. She never paid me to watch my siblings while she was at work. She never paid me back the money i helped with paying HER car payments and insurance. She never paid me back for buying my siblings food that she was supposed to buy. She never paid me back for the electronics i had to buy for her. She never paid me back for the wifi i was paying for. I know how it feels to actually be used. It's narcissistic tendencies. I would have had $5,000 saved in a savings account and building interest, but my adopted older sister screwed me out of that. Used me to pawn her own gain. If being paid back is more important than making sure we are actually doing okay, then you have issues. I've loaned money to my sister. And she always paid me back. She's loaned me money, and i always paid her back. I just want better..

[wowifinallymadeanaccount]

Wow I finally watched Ready or not and holy SHIT

I went into it already having a roundabout idea of what was going to happen - I also knew Grace survived due to a spoiler I'd seen but that was on me and I own that as this movie has been out for a few years now

But something I wanted to talk about, or more someone, was Daniel.

Fucking Daniel.

He was the hero in disguise the whole time.

As if trying to make up for the wrong he did all those years ago with the innocent groom.

He was trying to warn Grace without pointedly warning her before the wedding.

He gave Grace a ten second headstart when he Accidently stumbled across her.

Heck I feel like he would have left Grace go in the Forrest if his father wasn't right there.

And that's what made him smart.

He didn't compromise his own position in the family to help her, until the perfect moment arrived.

But the question is, did he always know he was going to do good? Did it change every minute?

We obviously see he is not the same as his family, as his own wife, through the whole movie. So it's safe to assume his different views of what is right and wrong and 'having a soul' is different from his family. Could this have been from the trauma of what happened to him as a child? Or has he always felt this way?

We see in the childhood flashback that the two brothers are obviously scared, as if they can get hurt themselves. The two boys in the present don't feel the same way, they're excited and hungry to be apart of the family festivities.

It's just interesting to think about what experiences or what core values they have grown with etc. - What are the reasons when growing up in a family like this?

Daniel waited for the perfect moment to strike, to save the innocent bride, but he didn't kill his family no - because at the end of the day they're still his family. He isn't that person to kill his family, that would just make him one of them, But he knows when their 'family traditions' need to be stopped.

Oh my poor poor sweet boy, you should not have married gold digger charity.

Ironic, isn't it?

And what was the reason for him getting married? If he has always felt this way towards the game, why would be potentially put someone else through it?

We see not everyone gets a traumatic and death-ending game like Hide and Seek. But there's always a risk of it isn't there?

So why would he do that when it doesn't even look like he loves her? Did he ever love her? It's portrayed that she only wanted the money, to be apart of the family.

Oh wait, she ended up shooting him to ensure the family, fame and fortune she was apart of would continue to thrive.

Nevermind, fuck her.

(I mean she was kinda hot)

OKAY NOT THE TIME-

But you also gotta wonder if Daniel hadn't of died, would little brother have snapped the way he did and completely turned on the love of his life he'd done everything he could all night to protect?

Alright onto more important things.

Is it just me or did Daniel become x10000000000 fucking hotter when he suddenly went against his family and became the hero?

Before that moment, Fuck yeah he was attractive. His little sarcastic remarks. The good little things he did like giving Grace a headstart. His beautiful hair and little undone tie. And of course his voice, because it's me.

But when he 'poisoned' his family and freed her? Became the hero of this story?

BOI I WAS ON MY KNEEEEEEEESSSSSSS FOR THIS MAN LIKE YES SIR 🛐

Also the fact that the curse or whatever it was called ended up being real? I DIED. SO UNEXPECTED. I LOVED IT. FUCKING, LOVED IT.

SUCK ON THEM TIDDY DICKS BITCHES.

All in all I was very happy I finally got to watch this movie after so long of anticipation. But I wish Daniel didn't have to die. I'm glad Grace survived because she deserved to, but Daniel didn't deserve to die.

But I guess, there could never of been a future where both of them live. Could there?

Oh fuck me I just realised that.

[delurkr]

Ok so probably none of this actually relates to how you think of them but more than anything else I kind of see them playing similar roles in their games. They're both the oldest in their groups for one minor thing, and also they rub a lot of players the wrong way at the start (particularly Charlie, Angela too but she has a lot of competition for most hateable character early on). They also can die a lot lol but aside from that, their fakeout deaths are an easy comparison. They're both alone in those moments and if they survive it can get them a lot of sympathy from players who didn't like them before. Also both of them can get killed automatically from just other characters' choices. They got the last positions I'd want to be in if I were in each story 😂

You mentioned their younger selves, and I don't know whether that would be the exact comparison for me. Reading backwards from what they are now I'd say Angela indeed started out very idealistic; she's clearly bitter and thinks about her ex a lot, she aggressively asserts her self-sufficiency (which she may even doubt sometimes and also misconstrued as rejecting others' support), and she's super suspicious of other people's young love and possibly projects her whole shattered dreams thing onto people in other areas too (I mean let's be real Angela, you definitely treat other people like dirt because your dreams never materialized).

Charlie does have his moment of trashing everybody's dreams (arguably with a better basis than Angela) but he's consistently optimistic and driven and doesn't expect success to fall into his lap, and imo none of that seems like a cover for bitterness. If anything he's still idealistic about where simple determination can get him (possibly deluded) but even then I don't think it'd be correct to say he objectively is not going anywhere (it's just the show that isn't). Not that I'm an expert but a lot of famous directors didn't make it big until they were older and I'm sure he recognizes that, and if success in his industry is a lot of meeting the right people in the right place at the right time on top of persistence then he could be on the right track because he's still determined and still moving forward. Angela is getting on the right track herself at this point too, and it's not quitting time for either of them so maybe instead of them sharing broken dreams my convoluted association would be something like their self-reliance in a positive sense and also in light of their possible need to recognize that they can't engineer their futures by relying on just themselves

Angela and Charlie?

so there's this thought that I don't really know how to articulate, basically Angela and Charlie occupy the same space in my brain and I can't really put my finger on why

Like on a surface level they are the same age, both wear glasses, have a similar hair and eye colour and have a lot of the same colours in their outfits but like, it's not that I think they're similar or equivalent of that they'd even get along, in fact they'd probably fight terribly and we already know through their interactions with other characters how that'd go but still... I mean they're both paired up with the same models in ships but it feels like more than that, so I guess they're sort of inexplicably adjacent in my mind and if anyone has any ideas about that I'd love to hear about it

Maybe it has something to do with the hypothetical past versions of themselves and all that, like Angela is pursuing higher education after her divorce so I wonder about how many dreams she had to put aside during her marriage and we all have a pretty good idea of Charlie at some bright eyed young man who was going to make it someday but all these years later he's still trying to make it and maybe that's it? The chasing of dead dreams and missed opportunities, the fine line between resilience and not knowing when to quit

It often happens that I figure my thoughts out on the way and this feels like a start to it all and maybe I'll actually get these thoughts in order but what do you think?

[ravelights]

Izuku travels back in time fix it AU...with a twist.

11 pm idea that hit me one night (might have been done before but hey, here's my turn at the idea) Izuku is transported back into his Five year old self, and has the chance to do everything all over again; and makes things right this time...

But there are several problems getting in the way of saving everyone, namely that he's a quirkless five year old, that has none of his friends, allies or strength he had in his teens. All of them don't know he exist, plus half of them are toddlers. There's also a lot of stuff that won't happen until much later, not to mention he isn't sure how a lot of stuff came to be. He has no idea how Dabi survived were toga grew up, and Tomura has already killed his family four years prior and is living somewhere with All for One.

He knows won't get OFA until he's fifteen, and he's not even sure he might this time around. Because changing history means that All Might won't get injured and never have a reason to pass it on. Getting it when he's four would be impossible since he's young, and because people might not believe him when he say's he from the future, and can he blame them?

So after thinking over all the options, Izuku decides that if he can't be a hero, then he's going to be a villain...or at least pretend to be one so that he can stop the villains before they become huge threats. Basically Izuku decides to fight fire with fire, which he cranks up to 100 because he know a way to get a strong power that could go toe to toe with All for One and the person to go to get it from.

So Izuku sneaks into All for One doctors office and get's a hold of the replica of All for One quirk, with added hijinks. Now Izuku my have the replica nicely stored away in a glass tube, but he doesn't know how to acquire it... so he just decides to eat it because it worked the first time.

It's not meant to work like that, but for Izuku it does, after falling sick for like three days. Because eating a quirk wasn't the best idea. But who cares Izuku now got All for One, foresight on future events and his New villain career to kick off at the ripe old age of five.

And boy does he go off with a bang, by breaking Nagant out of Tartarus (Izuku needed a body guard, and Nagant was innocent), convincing hawks to run away from the HC (it was Nagant idea really) and recruiting the number two hero eldest son (Well Toya more recruited himself) among other things.

This unsurprisingly, this get's All for One's attention, but Izuku sure that he won't get caught because who would expect "quirkless five year old Deku" to the the next be up and coming villain? Apparently All for One, because the guy awkwardly walks in to his preschool one day, picks him up and is both quite shocked and amused to find this villain, that's been causing the Hero commission so much strife, is just a four year old boy.

Izuku thinks this might be the end, but instead of snipping of this bud before it grow, All for One decides he'll let Izuku keep doing what he's doing, because the whole things amusing. Except Izuku still "only a baby, not quite a big bad villain yet" so All for One will be "probably supervising" Izuku growth into villainy.

Izuku doesn't know weather to yell in joy at getting a one up on All for One or scream in anguish that now he's got the worst villain in the world making him his personal pet project.

Izuku decides to burn that bridge when he get's there.

I have more of this AU if anyone wants to know about it, but just baby toddler villain Izuku getting followed around by his older villain father, during his first errands. All dress up in his preschool uniform carry several books on "how to commit crimes and get away with it" well telling AFO to buzz off.