#one time i caught a frog and brought it home like i was in elementary school

[twunkzilla]

I got like extremely piss ass drunk last night and fell in a fucking lake why can't I ever do anything normal when I black out like shit myself

[maydaygirl-save-our-ships]

Home Again (Amphibia Fic)

Spoilers for True Colors.

Summary:

Anne stared at her shaking and confused frog family and couldn’t help but think back to the first day she landed in Amphibia. She had been terrified, especially after she learned of the blood thirsty, giant creatures that inhabited the world. Nothing about the urban city in which she grew up was familiar to the Plantar family. She recognized their overwhelmed and distraught faces and her resolve hardened. “Don’t worry, guys,” Anne said. “I won’t let anything happen to you. You took care of me when I was lost in your world, and now it’s my turn to take care of you.”

<Previous

Chapter 2: Another Starting Point

“My home is a few miles from here,” Anne said as she got to her feet. “We can walk, but we will be out in the open. I wish we could take a bus, but I don’t have any money.”

“We’re fine with walking. Just tell us what kind of monsters might be out there, and we’ll be prepared,” Hop Pop said matter-of-factly.

Anne shook her head and shouldered her backpack. It was much heavier with Frobo’s head inside. “There's no monsters in my world. Why do you think I was so freaked out by the huge monsters in your world and the piles of bones everywhere? This world isn’t dangerous in the same way as Amphibia is dangerous.”

“Then why can’t we go out in the open?” Sprig asked.

“Because if people see a bunch of frog people they are going to freak out,” Anne said bluntly.

Sprig chuckled. “Come on Anne, we don’t look that weird!”

Anne shot him a tired look. “As weird as I looked in Amphibia, that's how weird you guys look here.”

“Are they going to send a mob after us?” Polly asked. She sounded almost hopeful.

“I doubt it, but the government might try and capture you or something…” Anne mused and she looked around the small clearing for anything that she could use.

“Why would the monarchy want to capture us?” Hop Pop asked. “We’re not a threat.”

“What? No, there’s no monarchy- you know what, I’ll explain that another time,” Anne said as she spotted exactly what she was looking for. Anne ran over and grabbed a large, blue blanket that was hanging over a fence. It was probably left there by the homeless encampment that often set up in the area.

“Here,” Anne said as she wrapped the blanket around her frog family. “Stay hidden under this until we get to my house.”

Hop Pop let out a long hearty cough. “If you think that’s best, Anne.”

“Whoa. You okay dude?” Anne asked worriedly.

“I’m fine. The air in your world is just… different from ours.”

Anne knew what he meant immediately. The way the polluted air filled up her lungs made her chest feel heavy. It wasn’t until she came back to her world that she appreciated the fresh and unpolluted air of Amphibia.

“It’s just pollution from the cars in the city. It will clear up more in the suburbs,” Anne promised. “Come on, let’s get going.”

She led them to the sidewalk and instructed them to stay close. They seemed hesitant to go near the street and it’s rushing cars, but trusted her enough to follow her anyway.

They walked in mostly silence with a few murmurs from her frog family as they took in the sights of her world. Every once in a while they would recognize something they had seen in one of her movies or shows, but most of the time they looked both amazed and overwhelmed.

Eventually the scenery changed and they found themselves walking next to fresh cut lawns, picket fences, and the occasional garbage can that was left out on the curb. The buzz of the highway traffic and bustle of the city was muted in the distance. They turned down a street and Anne suddenly stopped. She felt as if someone had reached into her chest and squeezed her lungs, forcing all of her air to leave in a rush.

Why? Why had she turned down this street? Was she trying to torture herself?

She stared at the outside of the Wu residents across the street, unable to move. Marcy’s parents must be devastated at their child’s disappearance. Would she have to tell Marcy’s parents about what happened to her? Explain to them that Marcy was never coming home? No, she wouldn’t do that, couldn’t do that, not until she was sure Marcy was really… gone. There was still some hope, wasn’t there?

“Anne? Anne?” She heard voices calling her name behind her but she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

Something light, but solid landed on her shoulder. It was a familiar feeling as one of Sprig’s cool hands touched the skin at the base of her neck as he sat on her shoulder, peering at her in concern. The first time Srig had jumped on her shoulder back in Amphibia, Anne hadn’t been used to frog skin yet and she had felt like he was invading her personal space. Now, she found the gesture familiar and comforting. It was nice to have Sprig sitting on her shoulder, just the perfect height to talk to, or hug, depending on what she needed.

“Anne?” he asked. “Are you okay?”

She really wasn’t, but her first priority was to make sure they were okay.

“I’m fine,” she said, quickly wiping away her tears and wishing he couldn’t see, but knowing he could. Suddenly, the reality of the situation caught up with her. “Wait, Sprig! Get back under the blanket before someone sees you!” She glanced around the neighborhood to see if anyone had noticed them.

“Don’t worry,” Sprig said as he jumped off her shoulders onto the pavement. “I don’t think there’s anyone around right now.”

He did have a point. It was in the middle of the day and most people were probably at work or at school… Was there school? Or would it be summer time by now?

“Maybe not right now, but someone could drive down the road any second,” she warned.

“Oooh hey, what’s that?” Sprig asked, and to Anne’s horror, he bounded off into the street.

“Sprig! What are you doing?”

“Whoa, there are some coppers here just lying in the road!” Sprig said as he picked up one and began to study it.

“Those are just pennies,” Anne said. “They aren’t worth- Sprig, look out!”

People were always blowing past stop signs in the neighborhood, and the car that was currently driving down the street was completely ignoring the 25 mph speed limit.

Sprig’s eyes widened as he looked up to see the mental machine bearing down at him with no intention of slowing.

Sprig was quick, he could probably jump out of the way in time, but Anne couldn’t risk it. She had already lost one friend today.

The car clearly hadn’t seen the tiny pink frog in the middle of the road, but it would be able to see her. She jumped out into the middle of the road, blocking Sprig from the oncoming vehicle as she held her arms out wide. The driver immediately slammed on his breaks, much to Anne’s relief. The car came to a complete stop and the driver rolled down his window.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, kid? I could’ve hit you!”

“Sorry!” Anne called. “It’s just my…” She searched for the right word. What kind of pets did they even have in this world again? Not caterpillars, or baby snails... that wouldn’t make any sense. “My… cat ran into the road.” She did her best to block Sprig from the driver's view. She felt him jump onto her back and duck his head so he wouldn’t be seen. “I think he ran off though.”

The driver grumbled something before rolling up his window.

Anne quickly stepped out of the road, doing her best to keep the driver from seeing the little pink frog clinging to her back.

When the car drove away, Anne let out a sigh.

“Heh… sorry, Anne,” Sprig apologized as he jumped off her back.

“I thought you said this world isn’t dangerous?” Polly asked skeptically as Sprig joined her underneath the blanket again.

“It’s not dangerous in the same way your world is. It’s not like there are monsters in the bushes, but if you don’t follow the rules of the road and jump into the middle of the street-” She made sure to give Sprig a meaningful glare. “Then it can be dangerous. Just stick close to me, okay?”

“You got it, Anne! Hey, can we use these coppers to buy anything?” Sprig asked. From underneath the blanket he held out his hand to reveal three pennies.

“Not really. I was trying to tell you, dude, those are just pennies and they’re barely worth anything.”

“Oh.” Sprig looked disappointed. “Well, I’m still keeping them,” he said as he shoved them into his pocket. “They have a cool human on them.”

Anne rolled her eyes affectionately. Sprig had always been interested in the Earth stuff she brought with her. She had actually given him a lot of the stuff she didn’t need, like pens and old key chains. She was going to have a hard time convincing him not to fill up his pockets with junk from her world.

“What kind of monetary system do you have that copper isn’t worth anything?” Hop Pop asked, appalled. “Don’t tell me you have so much gold that you're lining your garbage cans with it? Talk about inflation!”

Anne made a face. “I don’t know! I don’t even know if pennies are real copper or what inflation is. If you really want to know, you should ask Mar-” she stopped herself, the pit in her stomach tightening.

Hop Pop went silent as he reached out from under the blanket and patted her arm comfortingly.

They didn’t say much as they continued to walk down the sidewalk together. Marcy’s house was only a few blocks away from her own. That was actually how they met. Both of their parents had taken them to the same park when they were young and then they attended the same elementary school together.

Anne shook her head again. She had to stop thinking about Marcy. She had to focus on getting home and finding a way to get back to Amphibia. There was a war going on without her and her frog family couldn’t stay on Earth forever. She would get them back home, just like they got her home.

She finally stopped, taking in the sight before her. It had felt like an eternity but the house in front of her remained completely unchanged. Her family home was one of the older houses in the neighborhood. It needed a new coat of paint and the basketball hoop above the garage was one basket away from falling off, but her mother’s touch had always made the place feel homey, with light pink curtains in the windows and flowers on the front railings. It had always been comfortable, familiar. Home.

However, at this moment, her childhood home was strangely cold to her. In Wartwood, the streets were always bustling with people. The houses were often small and welcoming; doors were left open and neighbors visited each other often. Grass and weeds were always overgrown in Wartwood and it was a stark contrast to the perfectly manicured lawns of her house and neighbors. Standing in front of the house, her world felt silent and empty.

The minivan wasn’t in the driveway so her parents weren’t home. The lights were off, further driving home the point that no one was there. She didn’t know why she expected her parents to be home waiting for her. It had been months since her disappearance, and at this time of day they would be at the restaurant finishing up the lunch rush, not waiting for her to show up out of a portal from another world.

Looking at her home now, Anne had to wonder, had anything changed without her? Would her parents even care that she came back? Were they happier without her making a mess they would then yell at her to clean up? Did they have more free time now that they didn’t have to bug her to do her homework or take her to tennis practice?

Anne knew this line of thought was stupid and fed by her own insecurities. Of course her parents loved her and missed her. But had her disappearance really not changed anything? She couldn’t help but selfishly wish that her parents had been sitting at home for the past few months waiting for her to come back. She had worried and missed them every single day, even spent nights crying over pictures of them in her phone. They had felt the same, hadn't they?

“Is this your home, Anne?” Sprig asked. “It’s nice.”

“It’s fancy,” Polly said. “Kind of like the homes in Newtopia.”

“Yeah, this is it guys. My home.” Why did that word seem so hollow on her tongue? She had been so urgent to get back home before now. It was her entire goal; the reason she and the Plantars had gone on such a huge journey together. They had given up everything just to get her here.

Now, it was just another starting point.

“Anne, are you sure your parents are going to be okay with us?” Hop Pop asked worriedly. “It’s not polite for us to just show up unannounced.”

That caused Anne to laugh. “You mean like how I showed up in Wartwood unannounced and you took me in? You guys are my family, I would never leave you without a place to stay. Besides, my parents aren’t even home right now. They’re at the restaurant.”

“Yes, but when they get home, they might be a bit overwhelmed to see us, since we aren’t from this world.”

“You guys have no idea,” Anne said. “But don’t worry about it. We’re Thai. Thai people are some of the most hospitable people you’ll ever meet. After my parents get over their initial shock, they will insist that you stay. My mom will probably cook a bunch of food for you that she won’t let you refuse.”

Hop Pop chuckled. “In that case, lead the way, kiddo.”

Anne smiled and turned back to the door. She wasn’t even sure if she still had her house keys, and with Frobo’s head in her backpack, she didn’t want to go digging for it. Instead, she approached the side of the house to search under the only bush. She finally found the fake rock and took out the spare key.

She made her way up to the front door and turned the key in the lock. With one turn of the door handle, and a softer push than the Plantar’s front door required, the door opened.

Let me know what you think of this one! ! I know you are all looking forward to the Plantar's meeting Anne's parents and I promise we will get there!

Check out my kofi if you are interested.

[doll-collecting-aerialist]

The Story Of My Addy, In Honor Of Her Birthday.

(VERY long post.)

Growing up, the three American Girls I wanted most were Addy, Kirsten, and Cecile.  However, Kirsten and Addy were always the top dolls I wished for, they probably tied in first place. I remember being about six or seven and flipping through my first American Girl catalog I ever received, along with Kit, my first American Girl. After staring at her respective pages, I flipped through the other Historicals. I was never too interested in the non-Historical aspects of AG as a kid (other than Mckenna), I was what one would class as an aspiring history buff. I thought all the dolls were gorgeous, but Addy in particular caught my eye. She was stunning. 

I thought Addy was beautiful, and her pink meet dress was quite similar to a couple of my childhood dresses. If I wanted to be atmospheric I’d probably say I was wearing my favorite pink sundress the first time I was introduced to Addy, but realistically I was probably wearing my frog rain boots and my lobster pajamas. I had a fascination with footwear as a kid, particularly boots, and Addy’s shoes reminded me of Doc Martens. I had always wanted a pair of black boots, and I thought it was sick that Addy had “Docs.” I thought she was the most stylish out of the historical characters. I thought Addy’s hair was the prettiest out of the Historicals as well, it looked very soft and reminded me of my best friend’s hair. I also thought Addy had the prettiest face out of the dolls, I loved her nose and her eyes. 

However, the people around me didn’t see Addy the way I did. I suppose you could call it a tradition for the girls of my elementary school to huddle around a new American Girl catalog when it released. My peers often marveled over the blond or light-red haired Truly Mes, and occasionally the GOTY. They rarely paid attention to the Historicals, and when they did it was usually a doll like Julie. When I brought up how pretty Addy (or Cecile) was, and how much I loved her, the girls would laugh at me. There soon became a group of white girls in my school who would laugh at me for wanting a black doll. They would call Addy horrible things, anything from saying she looked “dirty” to calling her the n-word. They said I probably only wanted Addy so “I could have a slave.” I would defend Addy and tell them that they were wrong, but if anything that made them more antagonistic towards her and me. 

I was a very shy, anxious, soft-spoken kid, and so thinking about telling an adult made me want to vomit my Caprisun. The adults of my elementary school were also extremely dismissive of me anyway in some cases, and would become annoyed with me for reasons I won’t get into, other than that I was a “problem” child as a kid due to my home situation, being bullied, and not being accommodated in school for my disabilities. I knew I wasn’t going to be taken seriously by my teachers, and I didn’t want to gather up the courage to open up to one of them only to be dismissed. There were some adults that did see what was going on and would tell the girls to stop, but more often than not when the adults did witness the girls making fun of me, they’d turn the other way, or even condone it. Many adults asked me why I didn’t want a doll that looked like me, or asked why I didn’t want a “pretty doll.” There would be adults who would warn me that I would ruin Addy’s hair and that Addy’s hair was to difficult for me to take care of. Adults would often try to sway me to like another doll, usually a white, blonde-haired one. 

I began to keep my love for Addy a secret. As an elementary schooler, I didn’t understand why everyone was upset with me for loving Addy, but the reactions from the people around me made me feel as though there was something wrong with myself.  There wasn’t really anyone telling me that the people being racist towards Addy were the problem and that I was not the issue. My eight-year-old brain basically came to the conclusion that people wouldn’t be yelling at me if I wasn’t doing something wrong, and for a while, I felt ashamed for loving Addy. I still did love her however, and I would quietly stare at her page in the catalog for hours, becoming extremely upset with the fact that I would never have her. I adored all her outfits, they reminded me of the ones my mother and grandmother would sew for me. I wanted her Christmas Dress, Sunday Best, and Nightgown especially. I begged for a nightgown so I could be like Addy. I wanted Ida Bean and Addy’s lace-up boots. Basically, anything Addy related? I wanted badly, but I always kept it a tight secret. 

An activity my family would often partake in growing up was going to the thrift store during half-off weeks. On one of these trips, my mother found quite a few historical American Girl books, including a copy of Meet Addy and Changes For Addy. There was also a copy of Merry Christmas Kit, Molly Saves the Day, Meet Felicity, etc... But I was extremely excited for the Addy books in particular. I carried my copy of Meet Addy everywhere, from the time I was in about fourth grade, until the time I was eventually pulled out of public school in the middle of grade seven. I always had it in my backpack, and I was to busy reading it to pay attention to the kids who liked to make fun of me (or my teacher trying to teach me for that matter, my book got taken up on multiple occasions.). Meet Addy and Changes For Addy were the only Addy books I was able to read until recently, except for the times I would skim through her books when my mother went to the library. Only this past year have I been able to actually sit down and read her entire central series rather than skimming/reading random chapters.

Addy’s books were my only meaningful education on slavery and the Civil War for a long time. Before I was homeschooled, my education on the topics were often skittered around, or had details omitted to make my state appear less complicit (Where I live, all history education in public school revolves around our state, excluding things such as world history. At least it did when I went to public school.). My elementary school only had thirty minutes of allotted time for history or science instruction, and even then it was treated as optional instruction. The allotted time slot was often used for extra math instruction, test prep, or free time. I’ve had to retake much of my history education when I became homeschooled, because the education I received in public school was poor. Before Addy's books, I had been taught that ‘slavery wasn’t that bad,’ and my first actual look into the topic came from her series. My only meaningful history instruction for a long time came from the American Girl books, but Addy’s were especially important due to how little education I got on the topics of slavery and the Civil War, and also due to how much misinformation I was taught when we did discuss these topics in class. 

Addy’s books made me love her even more, and she was definitely one of my first crushes as an elementary schooler. I thought she was beautiful and strong, and I wanted more than anything to be like her. All my pink dresses became “Addy dresses” and I would pretend to dress up as her. I liked to draw her and write stories about her. My grandmother at one point gave me a doll outfit that was (coincidently?) extremely similar to one in an illustration in Addy’s book, and I loved it to pieces. I somehow found out about Addy’s stilting outfit, and that started my multiple-year fascination with stilts and begging my parents for them (I never got them). I learned to play mancala primarily because of Addy (and also for the fact that the kids at my summer camp that year based your popularity off of if you could play or not). 

 Addy was a strong character who was both a child and a girl, which I didn’t see much of, and I looked up to her immensely. She was also black, and although I’m not, seeing a strong girl character who was also in a minority meant a lot to me as a disabled kid. I was used to reading books about white, able body boys who were tough and strong, I rarely saw books that had girls who were strong, and if I did they were often adults, as well as able body and/or white. The disability representation in Addy’s books was also extremely well written, especially in comparison to much of the disability “representation” I was exposed to as a kid. I liked to read the chapters with M’Dear in Happy Birthday Addy, or the later books with Sam whenever my mother took me to the library.  I was used to disabled characters “overcoming”, or being pitied in the books I would read, but M’Dear and Sam weren’t like that. 

Eventually, I grew up never receiving Addy, and was pressured to put my dolls away. It wasn’t until a couple years later I would bring my dolls back out. My sister had her own American Girls at that point, so there was no weird obligation to let her play with my old ones, and I was no longer in public school where I would be made fun of for liking dolls. I had missed my dolls all the years they had been put away/given to my sister and I was so happy to finally have them back. After a while of having my dolls returned to me, Melody was released, which is really what completely brought me back into American Girls. Growing up, I wanted a Civil Rights American Girl badly. I am neurodivergent, and as a kid, I had a hyperfixation with the Civil Rights Movement. I wanted a Civil Rights American Girl almost as much as I wanted Addy, Kirsten, and Cecile, but she didn’t exist yet.

I immediately knew that I wanted both Melody and Addy in my collection as soon as possible (I had gotten Kirsten at that point. I wanted Cecile as well, but she wasn’t at the top of my mind as she is retired.). Although I no longer had a strange sense of reputation to uphold with my peers at public school, I did have a girlfriend. As a young teenager, I was so enamoured with the thought of having a girlfriend, that I often rushed into relationships with extremely toxic people, and this girl was no different. Aside from the usual “dolls are creepy” narrative, she also told me that she found Melody and Addy to be racist and that they offended her. She was very adamant that she would break up with me if I got Melody or Addy, and this scared my young teenage self who wanted a girlfriend (To this day, I do not know her exact issue with Melody.). I still got Melody that year, unbeknownst to her. I kept Melody a well hidden secret from her, but she had scared me enough to where I was afraid to get Addy at all. At this point I had started researching Addy constantly, and I knew the discourse surrounding her. I didn’t want to make my girlfriend at the time upset, so I held off on getting her. I have an AG store close to where I live, and I went a couple times after getting Melody and every single time I wanted more than anything to get Addy.

It would be a couple years before I would get Addy, as I got her this past January. I had started to become very antsy to get her, and in my wait for her had welcomed both Nellie and Josefina into my collection. About last September however, I made the mistake of bringing up how much I wanted Addy on an activism account I ran on Instagram, and immediately had people flooding me with all the usual Addy discourse. It took a long time to recover from that, and I had to shut down that account for a couple months. Since then everyone has cooled down about Addy, and I have some people who even follow me specifically for Addy. I’m not ashamed to admit that account has turned into more of an Addy Appreciation Account rather than an activism account. 

My quest to find the perfect Addy became all I would talk and think about. If you were within a mile of me, you KNEW that I wanted Addy, and I wanted her badly. Shout out to my friends who allowed me to talk from sunrise to sunset about Addy with no breaks for multiple weeks in a row. I was constantly looking on second hand sites, thrift stores, anywhere I could to find the Addy I wanted. I had my heart set on buying a pre-Beforever Addy at that point, and I was doing everything to find a listing that was affordable and that I loved. Then came the day where I found an Addy listing that I immediately fell in love with. I don’t know what exactly it was about the listing, but I wanted THAT Addy. Unfortunately, the site wouldn’t let me check out and I was incredibly upset to the point where I had multiple of my own friends, and even people I didn’t know on my Instagram account mentioned earlier offer to buy me an Addy doll. My “activism” account is relatively large, and there was a group of people ready to all chip in and help get me Addy. I had people ask if they could buy the listing that I wanted, and then ship her to me. Addy was all I could talk about at that point, and I had only talked about her/posted about her for at least a month. It only made me more upset to find out that the listing I had wanted had been sold. Plot twist! It was my mother who bought her.

(This is the first photo I ever took with Addy, I didn’t think I had saved it, but my friend did!)

I cried for about two weeks until she arrived. I was so happy I was finally going to have Addy, I couldn’t believe it. I thought for so long that I would never be able to have her. When she finally arrived it was love at first sight. I didn’t cry immediately upon unboxing her, I was trying to keep my composure, as I was filming unboxing her to put on my Instagram. Mostly so my friends could see, but also because I wanted to keep the moment, and because some of my followers were interested. I cried after turning the camera off, however. For the next couple of months I was extremely protective of my doll, I had the fear that she was just going to be taken away from me again. I took her everywhere with me around the house, she slept with me, ate dinner with me, would attend my online classes and sweep the porch with me. I didn’t like going out in public when I couldn’t have Addy nearby, I still don’t really, not that it’s much of an issue as we are quarantined for the time being. I’m planning on getting a mini Addy that I can keep in my purse sometime. 

Addy doesn’t stay on my shelf with my other dolls, she sits on my bed. Someday I hope to have her complete collection. That’s a far off, possibly unreasonable goal, but I don’t mind. My more attainable goal is to read all of Addy’s books, which I’m about halfway through doing. I recently got my first official Addy dress, her Christmas Dress, which she is currently sporting as we speak.

[slimeyslimeyballsack]

If You Only Knew, You'd Hate Me Chapter Three

Pairing: Bucky Buchanan x OMC (Zebediah Kaskitt)

Summary: Bucky and Zebediah had a fleeting interaction years ago and Zeb has been hung up on the boy ever since. Even with his arrogant and dismissive exterior, Zeb still tries to make a connection.

Warnings: swearing, shitty parents, as per usual, bucky gets pumbled, it's bad, I guess I just hate my main characters, but wait, theres fluff, yep, hurt comfort baby

Tags: @lykenbcrn @btrmuffins @diagnosed-crazy

As always ask if you'd like to be tagged

Part One Part Two

_

When Bucky stepped into the kitchen his mother was in her usual place at the island. What worried him was that his father was behind her chair. Bucky knew well enough to take his seat across from his mother. His father eyed him the entire time, a look of disdain on his face that was reserved specifically for Bucky. Bucky's father was better than him in every way. Taller, stronger, more handsome, smarter, and infinitely more talented. A silence hung in between the three, the kind that pulled tighter the longer you held it until you reached a point where it would be painful no matter how it was broken.

"I can't believe you. Right now, I honestly could care less if you were found dead in a ditch. In fact, that might be an improvement to our current situation."

A glob of spit landed on Bucky's face. He didn't dare wipe it off. He felt the telltale sting of his father's slap across his face, then again on the other side of his face. His father's rings digging into his cheek and brow bone. He knew there would be blood. There was always blood when his father punished him. Especially now. Last night's fresh wounds would easily be reopened.

"Stand."

Bucky did as he was told, moving far enough away from the chair to give his father room enough to be able to circle him comfortably if he wished to. Bucky would be cleaning the floors later. They were lucky the tile was brown. A white tile would be much more difficult to clean.

"You were with that fucking zombie again."

His father accentuated each word with a blow to Bucky's face.

"They are disgusting."

A fist.

"You are disgusting."

A knee.

His father's rings stamped images onto his body. They would resurface later in the form of bruises. He grabbed Bucky's wrists, nails piercing the skin.

"I thought you learned your lesson after yesterday boy."

He threw Bucky on the ground collecting the skin of his wrists under his fingernails. He slammed his foot into Bucky's back as a preventative to stop him from getting up.

"Don't lie to me boy. If you tell me you learned your lesson I don't want to see it again."

A series of kicks fell onto his back and sides. The beating couldn't have lasted more than a couple minutes, but it felt like hours. It felt like it would never end. His mother didn't participate. She merely watched, sipping her martini and occasionally checking her watch, as if this was just a slight inconvenience to her. In all likeliness it probably was.

"Stand."

Bucky again did as he was told. Any other time he would've submitted. But he didn't want to not see this zombie anymore. He wanted that kindness. He needed that kindness.

"May I speak, sir?"

His mother and father exchanged glances before he gave a curt nod.

"I wish to explain the reason I am associating with the monster."

His mother's eyebrows raised, eyes widening.

"You mean you did not wish to create a friendship with it?"

"No ma'am. Of course not. I just have him do tasks for me. He's like a servant. That's all I'm using him for. He is a filthy zombie. I would never want to be around him otherwise. I promise."

His mother looked to her husband. Being the reasonable one out of the two he had hoped that she took to what he said. She could convince his father of anything.

"You know, dear. That isn't a terrible idea. That's very resourceful of you son."

His father laughed. A rare sound coming from him. It was deep and loud. It wasn't happy. It induced no joy, hearing it. Quite the opposite. The rumble instilled a deeper fear into Bucky.

"Why didn't you say that before we taught you your lesson, boy? Now clean up and do whatever it is you do. God knows you're never home. Just be quiet; we're going to bed."

"Yes sir."

His mother and father left the room. Bucky was able to let out his breath. The first thing he did was clean the blood away from his eyes as best as he could. He made quick work with the mop, disposing of the end and replacing it once he had cleaned the pools on the floor.

_

The sounds of the night filled the air. Homemade windchimes hung outside. They didn't sound good or look particularly impressive, but they were an important part of zombie culture. Art deco in general was a huge aspect of zombie culture. They turned trash into something creative and beautiful. It decorated their houses and their lawns. It was a thing of pride. The windchimes currently jingled unceremoniously. Crickets sang their songs, exchanging melodies with the frogs and the cicadas. Although there technically wasn't a curfew the Z Patrol would still chastise zombies for being out at night so Zombietown was always quiet after sundown.

Of course, on such a beautiful night it would have to be disrupted. The sound of something hitting the chair that served as a window cover rang out. Zeb turned over, covering his head with his pillow. The metal tang continued.

"What the hell." He mumbled.

He threw his blankets off and shuffled to the window, pulling the chair off its nail. In the dirt, down by his stoop stood Zebina. She beckoned him to come down. Zebina never went out after dark. She didn't even go to mashes. Zeb didn't even think she stayed up past ten o'clock. He swung his legs over the railing and hopped into the ground.

"Bina, what are you doing here?"

"The wolves, they're having a campfire. They invited us."

Zeb wrinkled his eyebrows. Zebina, most likely sensing his confusion continued.

"We hung out while you were at your cheer stuff. So are you coming or not?"

"I- yeah."

They hurried to the outside of town where they were met by a wolf named Wynter. The two seemed close, sharing inside jokes as they made their way to and through the forbidden forest. As they approached you could hear howls and laughter. A large fire raged in the center of several wolves. Zebediah didn't love fire. He wasn't scared like some zombies, but he tended to stay away from it. Zebina, on the other hand, was fascinated; she loved fire. She went immediately toward it, greeting other wolves. She was uncharacteristically social. Zebina didn't have a lot of friends; she and Zebediah had been friends since elementary and had just stayed close. She didn't have time to make friends; she had to study. Yet, she already seemed close to them.

Now alone, Zebediah looked around, spotting a semi-secluded spot away from the fire to sit. He decided he'd wake up a little bit before joining the group. Before he got the chance, a wolf came over to him. He remembered her name was Willa. She was kind of scary, but Zeb smiled at her anyway.

"Diah right?"

"Zebediah, yeah."

Zeb moved over to allow her to sit.

"Bina talks about you a lot."

"Oh God, what does she say?"

"Bucky? That asshole?"

Zeb sighed. "Zebina doesn't understand why I like Bucky so much."

"Neither do I."

Willa raised an eyebrow. She looked bewildered. People usually were. He got side eyes whenever he called to Bucky. Zeb shifted into a more comfortable position. This would be a long conversation; he could tell.

"She doesn't pay attention. Nobody does really. I don't blame them. We're all so caught up in our own lives; we don't take the time to look at what's happening with people. Nobody looks behind the brash exterior. He's either a monster or he's a cheer god."

Willa's face wrinkled into something between anger and confusion.

"He is a monster though."

"No. He's not. He's not a cheer god either. He's just a person. A person with thoughts and feelings. A person who makes choices based on things that have happened to him."

"Don't you ever just feel like all your kindness is wasted?"

"Sometimes, yeah, but everyone deserves kindness."

Willa didn't seem happy with his answer at all.

"But he treats everyone, including you, like crap."

She stood, throwing her arms in the air and pacing.

"Kind of, but also kind of not. It's an act. Next time your around, pay closer attention to his facial expressions, to how he words his sentences. Just look closer, I implore you."

Willa stopped to look at him and chuckled.

"You're so nice. Forgiving. You're just like Wyatt." She shook her head, then looked back up at him. "I don't like Bucky, but your decisions are your own. I think whatever this is will go down in flames. I do wish you the best though, you seem like a good kid."

"I'm older than you." Zeb jested.

"I'm wiser."

"Are you though?"

Two shared a grin before Zeb thanked her.

"I am quite tired and I certainly wasn't expecting this conversation tonight, so I think I'm gonna head out."

"Do you need walked back?"

Zeb shook his head before walking over to Bina, informing her of his departure. She managed a 'later loser' before resuming her conversation. The wind was comfortable compared to the humid heat the season brought. Instead of going home, he decided to head into Seabrook.

Willa wasn't wrong. Before this week, Zeb had only his speculations to go on that Bucky wasn't as bad as he seemed. It was childish of him to hope for something more with him. But he stood by his decision that everyone deserved kindness. Especially the people who didn't get it.

He wandered for a couple minutes before he saw a familiar form. It was Bucky. He looked awful. Something was wrong.

_

He supposed adrenaline was the only thing keeping him from passing out. He staggered through the streets. The streetlights blurring together into streaks of light. The houses and trees blurring into paint strokes. He didn't know why he didn't dress his wounds before he left. He needed to get out of the house.

Bucky ran into a solid object. Zebediah.

"We have to stop meeting like this."

Bucky needed to tell him about him helping him.

"I need to talk to you."

Zebediah looked him up and down. There was worry in his eyes, the same kind that Addison gives him.

"You need to get fixed up. Come on, we have stuff at my house."

He started to walk away.

"No, I'm fine I-"

"Bup bup bup. We are going to fix you up and then you can say whatever you needed to say."

Zebediah softly grabbed his fingers, urging him to follow him. He complied.

He didn't know why he was surprised when they walked through the gate. This was where all zombies lived. Zebediah would be no different. He had been here several times before, never really looking at the scenery, just thinking about how to impress his father. It was all trash. All of it. The house they walked in was barely put together. It was such a contrast to what he was used to. Even inside of Zebediah's room it wasn't much better. Everything in it looked as if it had been taken out of the trash. His nose wrinkled when he realized most of it probably was.

He didn't complain that the bed was uncomfortable, although it definitely was. Zebediah stood in between his legs. He had rags, tape, cotton sheets, a bowl, and a bottle of alcohol.

"It's the best I can do. We don't have any antiseptic, so I'm so sorry. This is going to hurt a lot. Tell me if you need me to stop."

Zebediah cradled the back of his head, wiping the blood from his face. He was soft. The rag dusting over his skin. His eyes fluttered closed and he was calm. Nothing could happen to him.

"Grab my arm if you need to."

Bucky didn't need to grab his arm. He wasn't a baby. Then the sting came and Bucky's eyes snapped open. He squeezed Zebediah's forearm. Hard. Zebediah looked into his eyes to make sure he was okay to continue, then covered the cuts that were still bleeding.

"I need you to take your shirt off."

Bucky started to, but he struggled. He couldn't get his arms over his head. Zebediah reached to help him, grabbing the hem of the collar.

"I can do it myself."

He didn't mean to snap. He just- He didn't need anybody's help. Zebediah removed his hands. Bucky messed with it for a couple of minutes before getting it off. Zebediah began to wipe the blood off of his abdomen. He kneeled in front of him, one hand on Bucky's lap. As he assumed, there were bruises everywhere. Little stamps imitating his father's rings. It stung again. Bucky grabbed his arm. He was certain he was hurting him. Still, he didn't complain. He simply circled to his back.

"There's nothing on your legs, is there?"

Bucky shook his head. The air was freezing when Zebediah took his hand away. He handed Bucky his shirt and left to put everything away. He did feel better, not great, obviously, but better. He wasn't covered in blood. That was good.

Bucky's eyes looked to the doorway as Zebediah entered. He sat on his bed and Bucky turned so they were facing the same way.

"Who did this to you?"

Bucky didn't answer. He knew the question would come up. He wanted to answer, but he knew what would happen if his parents ever got wind of it. To be fair he'd be dead meat if his parents knew where he was right now. Before he could decide Zebediah spoke up again.

"Were you in a fight?"

Bucky shook his head.

"Was it- Was it your parents?"

Bucky didn't say anything. He didn't nod or shake his head. He just stared at his toes, hands fiddling in his lap. It was a while before Bucky built up the courage to say anything at all.

"Please, don't tell anyone."

"But we need to help you. I can't just sit and do nothing."

"Just, please."

Zebediah's face worked, but he nodded. Neither of them spoke for some time. Bucky thought about what he said earlier, and the building curiosity forced him to ask.

"Earlier, you said we have to stop meeting like this. What did you mean? How do I know you?"

Zebediah chuckled, although Bucky couldn't think of what could be funny in this situation. Was it obvious? Was he forgetting some huge event?

"A couple years ago I was out past curfew. I heard somebody knock over a trashcan."

Bucky remembered the night he was talking about, not necessarily what he had done wrong, but certainly the punishment. Thinking back on it, Bucky should have known that the boy was a zombie. He hadn't gotten a good look at his face but he had been staring at his hands. Which were gray. And his clothes, no Seabrook citizen would go out dressed like that, even at night. Even then, he still thought about that encounter every now and then. He remembered his voice. It had lowered since then but it still had that same quality. This beautiful melodic tone that sucked you in, made you listen. How in the hell had he not recognized it?

"It's getting kind of late."

Bucky stilled at the thought of going home.

"You could stay if you like."

He let himself sink back into the bed, nodding his head gratefully.

"I don't have extra blankets or anything, but you can take the bed."

Zebediah went to leave the room and Bucky panicked. He couldn't be in here alone.

"Wait," Zebediah turned to look at him. "Could you sit by me?"

His eyes widened. Bucky shied away from his gaze, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. It was his turn to be surprised when he felt the bed dip. Zebediah sat at the head of the bed, leaning against the wall. Bucky hesitantly moved to sit next to him. They sat silently for a while before Zebediah started talking.

"You know, you're gonna be great someday. Not that you're not great now. You're gonna get out of Seabrook. Find a big house, probably like four bedrooms with a pool in the backyard.  You'll get a membership to the gym down the street."

It was soothing. So soothing that Bucky couldn't help but let his eyes close and his mind shut off.

_

Zebediah was in the middle of his story when Bucky fell on his lap. He pet his hair. This is why he did it, why he was so ceaselessly nice. Because you never knew what someone was hiding. Aware that his position was not the best for his back he tried to shift Bucky as best as he could into a lying position. He was going to sleep on the couch, but Bucky grabbed his arm. Zeb could've pulled away if he wanted, but he didn't want to hurt Bucky in any way. He laid on the bed, careful not to bump him. He was hyper-aware of every single move he made. He didn't want to do anything that could further injure him or make him uncomfortable.

Zeb had settled into a half-sleep when he felt an arm wrap around him. He startled awake before remembering Bucky was here. This was a dream come true. Zeb managed to settle back into a comfortable dream state.

_

Part Four

[lezliefaithwade]

David & Goliath

My grandfather, on my Mother's side, immigrated to Canada from Italy in the 1950's. For years I thought I was Italian until one day my Mother explained that her real father (who was Danish) had died when she was seven and that Ralph was actually my grandmother's “companion”. At seven I had no idea what a "companion" was, nor did I care. All that mattered was whether I would inherit his talent for cooking and gardening.  As a child, Italy seemed like a mythical land filled with beautiful palaces and amazing desserts.

When I finally had the opportunity to visit the land of my grandfather's birth, I made it a point to seek out all the places I'd heard about as a child. So, it was, that while I was in Florence, standing in front of the statue of David I was suddenly reminded of an episode in grade 9 when for three solid weeks I was bullied by a fellow student three times my size who I believed would destroy me.

In the Old Testament, the story goes that David, who is just a boy, takes down the 6'9" Goliath with nothing but a sling shot after King Saul, supposedly over 6' himself, is too afraid to challenge the giant on his own.

As I stood there examining the statue, I couldn't help wondering why Michelangelo had sculpted the boy to be so huge when Goliath was the giant?  At 17 feet, David stands three times larger than an average man. Is his size a metaphor for his bravery?

Growing up, I never considered whether I was brave or not until the summer before my thirteenth birthday when my parent's separation marked me (at least in my mind) as an oddity. I was the first one I knew of to come from a broken home, and to me, this was a truly embarrassing fact. I was ashamed of what I perceived to be a major failure on the part of my parents, and worried that everyone would think less of me because of it.  I wanted my family to be idyllic and though they were far from that, at least while we were all under the same roof, I could pretend. To save myself the embarrassment and shame of having to explain to kids I knew why I was no longer living at my old house on Belmont, and instead in an ugly apartment building across town, I opted to attend an all girl’s Catholic high school where no one knew me. For almost three months, I lied about where I lived. I pretended the apartment building I walked to every evening after school was where I babysat someone's kid. I never let on that my parents weren't together or that I was struggling with the reality that they were headed for divorce.

Catholic girl's schools, I soon discovered, harboured two types of young women. Those who longed for small classroom education among a female community of likeminded individuals, and those whose parents were forcing them to attend a school they hoped would reform them. Possibly attending Catholic school was a last resort ordered by the court. In any case, I was soon the target of gang terrorism brought about by answering questions in class – namely in English where I seemed to excel in understanding Shakespeare. Somewhere between The Merchant of Venice and Romeo and Juliet I became the object of abuse. Short and obnoxious, I was an easy target for a small but imposing group of girls who were significantly bigger and louder. The leader of this particular gang of delinquents was an overbearing, unusually tall girl named Susan Podansky. Susan had thick brown curly hair and a large set of yellow teeth that filled her face when she smiled. Not that her smiles were warm and generous. When Susan smiled, there was foreboding in the air.  She reminded me of the witch in Hansel and Gretel licking her chops as she prepared to eat everything in her wake. Her neck was thick, her hands were large and her voice was low. “Guess who’s going to die tonight?” she’d whisper in my ear as I scurried from Math class to Science. The whole time I was dissecting my frog I imagined my innards splayed across the grass beyond the school.

It occurs to me now, many years later and infinitely wiser, that there was nowhere for Susan and her gang to actually pommel me. The school was small and well supervised and the yard was too. Unless their aim was to be caught, there was no way they could beat me up and get away with it. At the time, this logic escaped me. Instead I cowered in classrooms, stayed late for extra help in things I was already excelling at, and volunteered for everything from library duty to bible study. If something needed to be scrubbed, painted, sorted or filed, I signed myself up.

There were rumours going around about Susan and her gang. They set fire to garbage cans. They stole from variety stores. One of them had a friend who’d been decapitated on the roller coaster at Crystal Beach. Each story was more shocking than the one before. What started out as careful avoidance, turned into full blown terror.

Ironically, I’d known Susan in grades 3 and 4 when I had attended Holy Family elementary. I was not Catholic, but the school was close to our house and my mother deemed it more convenient than the public school that was a good deal further away. My parents were never concerned about what rubbed off on us. During the day I learned about the Virgin Mary and the Holy Ghost and after school my mother played Rock and Roll albums and allowed me to read, Mad Magazine, and Creepy comics. Susan had been in my class back then. She was already bigger than the rest of us, but harmless. Once she even invited me to her house. I remember her mother was pleasant enough as she cooked something in the kitchen that smelled foreign and delicious.  Most of the kids at Holy Family were Irish or Italian, but Susan was Polish. To me that made her exotic. But then again, I was the daughter of Wasps attending a Catholic school. Everything was exotic to me. In the two years we shared a classroom at elementary school, we’d never clashed. In fact, in a childish act of solidarity, we both called Mrs. Flint, a substitute teacher, Mrs. Flintstone and were called to the office. We were equally contrite and that was the end of that. What prompted this new vitriol, aside from a seemingly innocent love for Shakespeare, I’ll never know. Whatever it was, her threatening demeanour was scary and all consuming.

At home, my mother couldn’t help but notice that I was at school later than usual. I’d enter the hallway out of breath, eat dinner, then retreat to bed. After a week of this she coaxed the truth out of me with cupcakes and before I knew what I’d said, she was on the warpath. This was exactly what I didn’t want. I’d been warned by Susan that if I snitched on her, she’d make my life even more miserable. I begged my mother to leave it alone, but she was determined. My mother had lived with an abusive step-father for a time before Ralph, and bullying wasn’t something she tolerated.

The next day I was called down to Sister Rita Mary’s office where two seats were arranged in front of her desk. I could see from half a mile away that large head of messy hair belonging to Susan. I timidly entered and sat down next to her. Sister Rita Mary smiled, “It’s come to my attention that there has been some nuisance between the two of you.”

Nuisance? Between the two of us? I could see where this was heading.

“It’s my belief that you just don’t know each other well enough, so my solution to this misunderstanding is to arrange for you to sit next to each other in all of your classes from now on.” Then, with a smile on her face she dismissed us from her office and closed the door.

Susan grinned, “This oughta be fun,” she announced. “Guess who’s gonna have a funeral?” And then she galumphed off to class.

Sitting beside Susan was excruciating. In math she broke my pencils. In English she poured ink on my assignment. But it was art class where she really crossed the line. I’d been working on a painting for several weeks and had almost completed my masterpiece when she and her gang “accidentally” spilled paint all over the canvas. “Oh, sorry!” she feigned, and then left me to absorb what had just happened while the teacher insisted I stay and clean up the mess.

Two other girls in my class – Vicki and Sarah shook their heads in disgust. “This can’t continue.” they stated. “That girl has to be stopped.”

“I agree,” I muttered as I crawled about the class on my knees cleaning tempra paint off the floor, “But how?”

That afternoon at lunchtime the three of us hunkered down at a table in the cafeteria to eat. No sooner had we settled when Susan came bounding over, knocked my tray off the table proclaiming me a moron and warning, “Better watch yourself tonight.”

I could feel my face flush and the bile rise in my mouth. I’d learned one thing from comic books, and that was how things were never what they seemed. The meek were often strong. The strong were often scared and bullies could be undermined. Before I knew it, Sarah was standing.

“What did you say?” she asked her.

For a moment I saw Susan blanch. She was shocked. This was unexpected. All she could manage to say was, “What?”

“You heard her, " Vicki demanded, also now standing. They looked like two Davids' to Susan's Goliath.

"What's wrong with the baby?" Susan taunted, "Needs other people to stand up for her?"

"No," I said rising to my feet, "I can stand up for myself."

She hesitated. Everyone was looking at us. Even the lunchroom nun was staring in disbelief.

“You'd better watch yourself.” Susan growled just low enough for my table to hear.

“Or what?” I asked

Susan just stared at me.

“Or what?” I repeated, “You’ll kill me? Beat me up? Hit me? Bury me? Why wait until tonight? Come on. Get it over with. Do it. Come on. You want to hit me? Hit me.” I was on a roll. Words were ammunition from my slingshot and I was on the attack. Next thing I knew, Vicki and Sarah chimed in.

“Yeah,” they echoed, “You wanna fight? Let’s fight.”  

Susan blinked. The cafeteria was eerily quiet. All eyes were on us.

“You’re not worth it,” Susan grunted, as she backed out of the lunchroom alone. And that, was the end of that.

For a moment, I felt 6' tall knowing that I had faced my biggest fear and somehow come out the better for it.

Vicki turned to me, "One Goliath down." she smiled. "Listen, I'm having a sleep-over this Friday. Ask your parents if you can come?"

This was the moment. If I could stand up to Susan, I would finally have the courage to say, "Just have to ask my Mom. My folks are separated."

I waited for the judgement that never came. Instead she simply said, "Cool. I'm adopted. Come by at 7:00."

[owletstarlet]

Excessively Detailed Headcanon Meme: Natsume Takashi for @saeryenkalador

Hey all, so @saeryenkalador asked me the following three questions from this headcanon ask meme, they were great ones and I had fun with it. 

(18) Favorite beverage? (20) Childhood illnesses? Any interesting stories behind them? (47) How do they express love?

18: Favorite beverage?

I don’t have one specific thing in mind but I think he’d enjoy sweet soft drinks, like pretty ordinary stuff you can get out of any vending machine, because they were never something he really got to have growing up and probably hasn’t tried many of. The ones that came to mind immediately are milk sodas and milk tea because to me those straight up taste like a soft lovely dessert in a bottle, or something overly sweet and colorful and clearly intended for kids, like (magnificent, inspirational) unnaturally green melon soda. (Milk soda as a side note sounds gross but it’s surprisingly really not, Calpis in particular is pleasant and candy-like.) Also, I’m dead sure Nishimura’s made it a mission to make sure Natsume gets to try every drink/sweet/junk food that Natsume never got to try during his Terrible Childhood, and he’d probably spend his own allowance to make that happen because he is a Good Friend. And of course whether Natsume even ever said anything or not about what he likes (most likely he would not), Touko would figure it out anyways, maybe from some bottles he left in the recycling, and start buying it for him.

20: Childhood illnesses? Any interesting stories behind them?

Inevitably a whole host of awful things can crop up as a result of not being consistently well fed or physically looked after, especially when you’re a little kid. And one of those problems is a compromised immune system. And any family that’s not even giving him enough food sure as hell wouldn’t take notice or care if he was getting sick, or if he was getting steadily worse, until it got serious enough that it could no longer be ignored. That’s probably a situation that’s repeated itself a few times with a few different homes he stayed in, but as to the way I imagine the worst occasion of it playing out:

It’d have been not so long after he saw that youkai in the park that impersonated a human to try to talk to him, so when he’s still very little and in elementary school. It’d have started as a cold, or what seems like one anyways, and he spends a week or two sniffling/coughing/feverish/all-around-miserable, but he’d just slap on a flu mask and go to school anyhow, because what else can he do, really. Until at some point he passes out at school or on the way, and ends up in the hospital with pneumonia or a bad flu or somesuch. (And this likely after he’s already spent at least an entire day just sleeping in the school nurse’s office because nobody was there to pick him up, and after said school nurse explicitly told whichever guardian finally came to get him that day that he needed to go to the doctor.)

Anyways, I also imagine there’s some tiny, harmless youkai that’s been hanging out watching him. (Let's say he’s a frog youkai because frogs are superb, and there was a frog youkai in some fantastic official art once, just be-boppin’ in a yukata and trying to steal some snacks.) This lil froggy dude probably doesn’t want to get super close and chummy with someone who radiates sheer power like Natsume did even when he was small, but it’s good at staying out of sight. And it’s fascinated watching this cute little human that the other humans don’t seem to like, who is constantly trying to run from all these spirits after him when he seems like he’s actually stronger than most of them. And the youkai considers it a good way to kill the time anyhow. So when he winds up in the hospital the youkai just kind of follows him there out of boredom/curiosity. It mostly just hangs out outside the window of his room and watches, but then it notices that even here the strange child is always alone; the humans who are supposedly his guardians are rarely ever there even though he’s so sick. So it works up the nerve to go inside and keep him company, because it’s not right for anyone to be left alone when they’re so ill. And Natsume probably doesn’t necessarily appreciate the presence of an uninvited youkai, but he’s really in no state to make it leave, especially if he’s on oxygen or something and just generally out of it. So this lil dude probably forgets its fear pretty quick when it sees Natsume close-up, and just sits at the foot of his bed and chatters away about some big ugly fish it caught and swallowed whole the week before, and leaves behind a small collection of rocks/leaves/snail shells that it found interesting (baffling the hell out of the nurses who keep finding them in Natsume’s sheets), and Natsume eventually reaches the conclusion that he’s gladder to not be alone (because he is tiny and he is scared). And that at least this youkai never tried to lie to him about being a youkai in the first place. Anyways. When he eventually leaves the hospital, he likely never sees the youkai again, because after the hospital staff and the school have both caught on that at the very least he’s being neglected at home, he’s quickly shuffled right off to the next family.

Bonus points if, at any point during his hospital stay, he grabbed the youkai in his sleep and held it close like a teddy bear. The youkai would initially be quite jarred by this but ultimately decides it’d rather let him rest than try to wriggle free.

47: How do they express love?

By being himself. He shows love by being open and genuine with someone. This is so hard for him to do; I think for him it’s the equivalent of straight-up exposing the jugular—but, as Nishimura notes in his character chapter/episode, despite the overall impression he first gives off of fakeness and a polite facade, he slowly allows that to fall away when he’s with Nishimura and Kitamoto (“—but once I got to know him I realized he was really kind of a kid.”) Even if he can’t be honest with them about everything for obvious reasons, or still has a tendency to hide/downplay/straight up lie about things (even where Taki and Tanuma are concerned), he still feels like he’s free to safely be Natsume Takashi and not some courteous soft-spoken ghost of a person who carries himself with the knowledge that nobody wants him around.

I can’t really say that he also shows love by being willing to risk his life and safety for others, or by being really ridiculously thoughtful (Touko’s probably lost count of how many times this sweet child has brought her flowers by now), because even though of course he behaves that way towards the people he loves he also acts that way towards people who don’t really deserve it— as an example, towards Matoba in chapter 91-92ish. His actions are fueled by a kind of reckless compassion about 90% of the time, towards humans and ayakashi both…

(I do think it’s hard for him not to see acts of kindness or of love shown towards him as some kind of transaction, that he’s not required to give some gesture in return, and I could go on and on about that…)

It bears mentioning that the people he finds it the most difficult to be open and feel free to be himself with are in fact the Fujiwaras. This doesn’t mean for a second that he loves them less, because he loves them so much, but. The people who hurt him the most in his life up to this point were the adults he was supposed to be able to rely on to take care of him, and they’re the ones that made his defense mechanism of withdrawing into himself to protect himself necessary. So understandably the process of opening up to the Fujiwaras is going to be terrifying to him, and of course he’s also just got this innate sense from an entire childhood of experience that if anything goes wrong, or that if he’s not at his best at all times (anything that another family would’ve chalked up to him being “troublesome,”) he’ll just be shuffled off to the next family. I think this is the most clear in the episode where he wrecked a room trying to do an exorcism and was just so afraid when Shigeru walked in to find him standing in the mess, that this was it and he’d have to leave. I think it’s getting better as the series progresses, he’s learning the Fujiwaras love him and he’s slowly allowing himself to be loved, which is all they want, really. (“Will he ever open up to us? Tell us what he wants to do, or wants to have? ...One day, we’ll be just like a family. Slowly, little by little, surely we will…”)

Sorry I didn’t really touch on romantic love, here, but I think it’d be more of the same: learning to let his walls down, and learning that love is not merely a transaction of kindnesses he has to uphold. (And being patently terrible at the Science of Flirting.)

Cheers, and once more I’m sorry for the lateness of this! I answered some of these about Tanuma as well here.

[sueboohscorner]

They Who Hide Behind Masks #Gotham Season 4 Episode 3 Spoilers, Rate, Review

Alrighty then, this episode doesn’t have a whole lot of stuff going on compared to the last two episodes, but since it is Gotham, Stuff. Did. Occur.

                        We take an enormous jump back in history, 125 A.D. in Arabia, to be exact. A man on a horse crosses over a battlefield of wounded bodies of wounded or dead soldiers in the wake. He scans his eyes among the many faces of warriors and rests his sights on one badly hurt man.

            He takes the man and plunges him into the waters of the Lazarus Pit. The water remains still for a moment. It then begins to rumble. Then the wounded man (Alexander Siddig) surges from the Pit, breathing the air of life once again. He is confused and asks why this man would save him and bring him back to the land of the living. The mysterious man presents him with a knife and tells him that he is his new heir and that he shall now take on his legacy and the new name of Ra’s al Ghul.

(I know! The freaking year 125! 125! That’s how long he’s been alive!)

            In present-day Gotham, Bruce Wayne (David Mazouz) put his new suit to good use and investigates new merchandise being brought in the dock for the Penguin. Through radio transmission, Bruce informs Alfred (Sean Pertwee) that he isn’t the only one doing some snooping around the newly arrived shipment. Bruce sees a thief, also wearing a mask, approaching Penguin’s products.

    The thief gets on a truck and tries to take what is in the crate. Bruce carefully peers through the wooden planks covering the truck to see what exactly the thief is doing. Unfortunately, someone wearing a lot of black, armored clothing while standing outside a truck tends to draw some attention. The armed guards catch Bruce.

            His new bullet-proof duds give Bruce the confidence boost to totally kick the mess out of the guards, although he does sustain a knife injury to his hand. Bruce manages to thwart off the guards. Although in all the ruckus, the unknown masked thief gets away as well.

            Away from the line of fire, the masked thief reveals to us that it’s *gasp* Selina Kyle (Camren Bicondova)!

            Meanwhile, Jim Gordon (Ben McKenzie) takes a little trip to Miami to have a chat with Carmine Falcone (John Doman). Jim joins Falcone at an al fresco café table, along with his daughter Sofia Falcone (Crystal Reed); Carmine Falcone’s only daughter, by the way.

            Jim asks Falcone for help in taking down Penguin and restoring some order back into the city. Carmine surprises us as well as Jim with information that he is slowly dying and cannot go back to Gotham. Sofia offers to go to Gotham in Carmine’s stead. He declines her request, saying that she is not ready for Gotham.

But come on, I mean, who is?

            Jim and Sofia talk a stroll along the shore. She talks about how she and her father’s relationship has always been a little rough. Sofia, even as a child, would always have to schedule an appointment just to spend time with her father. Now, because of his health, Sofia feels somewhat grateful that she can spend time with her father.

            Of course with Jim being Jim in this show, he and Sofia end up kissing.

We take a change of scenery to see Oswald Cobblepot (Robin Lord Taylor) and Victor Zsasz (Anthony Carrigan) talk about the attempt at robbery on Penguin’s merchandise. Victor calms down Penguin in a tizzy as the turn off the lights and leaves the club.

            In the dark, a silhouette of a woman peers out from behind a corner and approaches the giant block of ice that has been the home of Edward Nygma (Corey Michael Smith) for around five months, a torching device in her hand…

         Edward Nygma awakens, panicked, and confused. He looks around to find himself laying in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room. A cry of delight rings out to reveal Edward’s savior from his frozen state: A woman that has known Edward Nygma since elementary school, Myrtle Jenkins (Ilana Becker). Fortunately for Edward, she figured out Oswald’s schedule, somewhat late, so that she could find the right time to free him. Unfortunately for Edward, she is COMPLETELY obsessed with him, or his “number one fan”.

(So…. she kinda reminds me of a lot of fangirls/boys I have met or chatted with. And, to a degree, since I’m very insecure about talking about things I like, this Myrtle character reminds me of me.

            Anyway, as Myrtle self-names herself as Edward’s sidekick, “The Riddlette,” she takes it upon herself to bring Edward back to full strength so that he can truly become the Riddler again. However, Edward begins to show signs of brain damage, and Myrtle brings out a big book of riddles to help get the only muscle that counts for Edward Nygma, being the brain, up and running to genius level again.

            Easy riddle after easy riddle, Edward gets frustrated, saying that all of his answers were right and all of Myrtle’s answers were wrong. Myrtle reveals that the book of riddles she used to help Edward was a book of riddles for children.

(I mean seriously, one of the riddles was “What’s green, red, and spins round and round?”….A frog in a blender. Even I knew that)

            Realizing that something may, in fact, be wrong with him, in his frustration, Edward takes the book and strikes Myrtle with it, knocking her out and giving him time to escape.

            Back at the docks, Bruce goes undercover, clothes, accents, and all, and he discovers that the merchandise he got in trouble for sneaking around were items being auctioned off for the black market under Penguin’s authority. Once again, Bruce gets caught by a bunch of dock thugs when Alfred, also in disguise, pops up and he and Bruce kick some butt….just like the Bat team should.

            In the Iceberg Lounge, Barbara (Erin Richards) goes to Penguin and asks if she could get a certain knife before the auction proceeds. Oswald politely declines.

            At Wayne Manor, discussing the items up for auction, Bruce and Alfred find out that this certain knife was used as an embalming tool and it belonged to a ruler in first century Mesopotamia, King Balahsi. Finding out more about the knife in a book, Bruce finds a picture that looks very similar to Ra’s al Ghul that was taken around 2,000 years ago.

            Under the guise of Bruce Wayne, billionaire brat, he and Alfred attend the auction…..honestly, every single second of Bruce in this scene is pure awesome.

            After buying nearly every item, and battling Barbara for the embalming knife, Bruce walks away with said knife in his possession.

             Later that night, Selina sneaks into Wayne Manor to steal the knife. To her surprise, Bruce just so happened to be sitting in the library…quietly…with the knife…in the dark…okay. Selina admits that she was trying to steal the knife and asks Bruce to do her a solid. Bruce refuses to give up the knife and tells Selina to leave.. 

            Returning to Gotham with more Vitamin D than usual, Jim Gordon arrives to the GCPD to see Harvey Bullock (Donal Logue) welcome a new detective. Jim is also surprised to see that Sofia had followed Jim back to his home, seemingly willing to help Jim in his quest to help Gotham.

            After finding out who unfroze Edward, Penguin and Zsasz confront Myrtle in her home. She confesses everything that happened, including Edward’s possible brain damage due to the freezing. In order to show an example for those who have been trying to steal from him, Penguin tells Victor to kill Myrtle. But not before complimenting her hand made dress.

            In her fully armed pad, Barbara pours herself a drink while a mysterious figure is seen behind her, sneaking in. Barbara goes toe to toe with the intruder, who turns out to be her newest teacher, Ra’s al Ghul. Some exposition about how he dipped Barbara in the Lazarus Pit and so on is had. Barbara informs Ra’s that Bruce Wayne obtained the embalming knife despite her best efforts. Ra’s is pleased instead of upset that the boy Bruce Wayne has the knife in his possession. Some more quips and retorts are had…..and then *sigh* Ra’s and Barbara kiss.

            I know not much happened in this episode action wise, but I do enjoy some moments in Gotham where I can just take a moment and asses everything that has happened and take closer notice as to what’s going on in current episodes and possibly make theories about scenarios in the future.

.....Okay I gotta say it. Sofia, welcome. Glad your a part of the Gotham family. But seriously! Put on a bra! It's not attractive

            I’d give this episode a 7.5/10

 Alright, until next time. As always, stay weird.

[salmenzo]

Weekly Update - Monday, January 11, 2021

Commitment - Conviction - Consideration

“As we go through life, we’re piling on deeper and deeper layers of consciousness, which leads to a greater capacity to take multiple perspectives. It’s a little like the many layers of dessert piled on Miss Piggy’s plate at an all-you-can-eat buffet. Only with this, it’s less carbs and more nutrition.”

Kermit The Frog

Good Morning,

I was sent the picture below, and I did have to think for a minute.  Needless to say, this week's events certainly made us all take pause and think about the state of our nation.  I am not sure any of us would have imagined such activities unfolding in our nation’s capital.  Officials on both sides of the aisle have expressed their outrage.  While as a school district, we cannot take a political stance; we must assure our students, families, and all learning community members that respect is at the center for all that we do. 

Our Humanities team of Carrie Laudadio and Angela Bucchieri will continue to provide resources to our staff if questions should arise regarding the events that continue to evolve.

However, I am still choosing HOPE for this new year.  I am confident that events like this week can be tapped into to unite rather than potentially further divide. 

Best Part of My Week!!

Friday morning, I attended a grade one field trip to Mystic Aquarium for the voluntary distance learning students.  It was amazing!  I was impressed by the staff at Mystic Aquarium, but I was even more in awe of our students.  They were incredible!  I know I am a geek at heart, but I was so choked up watching their faces as they witnessed the early morning feeding of the penguins.  I knew I missed seeing the students and staff, but this really brought it home for me today.  Our teachers did an awesome job, and it was clearly evident that they have a wonderful rapport with their students.  I especially would like to thank Michele Guglielmo for pulling this all together. This made my week!

Vaccination

We are very appreciative of all of the staff members who have completed the survey for the vaccine so quickly.  We continue to work with the Health Department on the coordination of the clinics.  Unfortunately, the Town is a week behind in its initial group of candidates for the vaccine due to the fact that no towns received doses last week for distribution.  We will keep you posted as we move closer to the first staff being vaccinated.  The good news is that all of our nurses have been vaccinated in the first group with the assistance of the Health Department.

Parent Choice Awards

The 2020 Parent Choice Awards are this Thursday, January 14, 2021 ast 6 p.m.  All the staff being recognized and the families who nominated them have been notified.  I want to congratulate everyone for their hard work and commitment to our students.  I look forward to Thursday evening.

Homeschooling Meetings

We are hosting two sessions over the next two weeks for families who are homeschooling for the first time this year due to COVID-19.  I have attached an information sheet that went out to all these families.  If you know of any families, please encourage them to attend a session for more information.  For your information, we have 88 students who may be coming back to our schools over the course of the remainder of this year and next year.

Adult Education Building

The Mayor has requested information as to the impact of the potential sale of the train station on the Wallingford Adult Education Program.  I am working with Marc Deptula, Director of Buildings and Grounds, and Sashi Govin, Adult Education Director, on the coordination of a response to the Mayor's request.  No matter what may result from these discussions, we stand committed to continue to provide high quality programming for our adult learners.  We will make sure access is available, and there are no deterrents to attending for anyone. 

Commitment - Conviction - Consideration

I am pleased to share more spotlights on staff from parents.  I am sure you will enjoy reading these as well.

I wanted to take the time to share how supportive Ms. Miklus has been this year. Due to increased anxiety and attachment issues due to past experiences, my daughter has often had issues transitioning into the building. Even when there was a significant issue one day, she never gave up or became frustrated. On subsequent occasions, there have been shorter episodes but Ms. Miklus has been able to help most days and help her transition into a successful school day. She understands the complications that COVID has made and the unique impact it has on my daughter and family, which many days feels like nobody really understands. Knowing that someone in the building understands the complicated nature of the situation, with the added complication of COVID, is helpful. I am glad to have the opportunity to send her into school with great staff who are able to support her social-emotional needs. 

My daughter is a first grader at Cook Hill Elementary School.  I am writing to say that her teacher, Mrs. Sorrentino has been the highlight of this crazy 2020 school year!  Her class had to go virtual one time and the transition was seamless.  When we had our conferences you can tell she truly loves what she does and cares about our children, we are extremely appreciative for her.  My daughter is doing very well and enjoys being in her class as well as Ms. Knight.  

Please please please share this when you can the community deserves to know what an amazing teacher Mrs. Sorrentino is!

I just wanted to say my twins are in Mrs. Avery’s kindergarten class at EC Stevens. She is an amazing teacher! She started the year teaching the children about the importance of masks and provided coloring sheets for them regarding staying safe. She communicates regularly about what she is teaching and how we can help work on the skills at home. She is very organized and promptly responds to any questions or concerns. With COVID and this being a totally different way to start kindergarten she has made it a great start to their education! 

Thank you providing the opportunity to highlight teachers!

Recently, Mrs. Reed’s class at Mary Fritz had to quarantine. When this happened last spring, my son shed a lot of tears with distance learning. I’m pleasantly surprised by the experience with this unexpected launch and it was all because Mrs. Reed prepared her class so well. I have to add that she also kept parents in the loop by outlining details step by step and answering our questions. I was delighted when listening to Mrs. Reed’s way of verbally scripting the plan for the day, taking the time to support breakout sessions with students and periodically come back to check on the entire class. She even managed to toggle a meeting with Mr. Carbone while keeping up with students' questions during their independent work! Amazing!

My daughter would also like to spotlight Mrs. Wolfrum  from Moran for her steadfast dedication to individually check in with her students to ensure they understand the directive given. My daughter speaks volumes about her calm presence even when they encounter technology glitches. Additionally, Mrs. Wolfrum has been implementing fun and visually appealing images throughout her lessons which have specifically caught my daughter’s eye.

Thank you all for rolling with the punches and using creativity to sustain interest in these incredibly challenging times!

I would just like to spotlight Maria Puziello.  Miss Puziello has been amazing this year!  She has been very adaptive, understanding, and creative during this challenging year.  My son absolutely loves going to school and I know that a lot of that is because Miss Puziello has been so great with adapting to the new situation, and working with the students to make their school experience the best it can be.

I would also like to thank the entire staff at EC Stevens.  Everyone is clearly working very hard to limit their exposure to COVID and it is showing.  Thank you to all of the Stevens staff, and to Dr. Menzo for always putting our children first and allowing our children to stay in school.  I know for some it was not a popular decision, but I would like to say thank you for keeping our kids in school.

I would like to take a minute to commend my daughter’s teachers at Highland Elementary School. My daughter is in the preschool program and obviously at the beginning of school my husband and I were more than nervous to drop her off. In a typical year bringing one’s oldest child to school for the first time can cause some fears, however this year we were more than anxious. Miss Galante, Mrs. Bell, Mrs. Gormley, and Ms. Wade have gone above and beyond in making her first year a success. In addition, I would also like to commend the Para educators in her classroom, Mrs. Cappetta and Ms. Maida. The team of educators who work with my daughter have made her feel welcomed since her very first day. I cannot express enough gratitude for their efforts.

Make it a great week!

Sal

Dr. Salvatore F. Menzo

Superintendent

Email - smenzo@wallingfordschools.org

Twitter - @SalMenzo

Wallingford Public School District

 Wallingford Public School System Mission

To inspire through innovative and engaging experiences that lead all learners to pursue and discover their personal best.

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