#johnny writes

they’re (they/she) a nonbinary trans woman, which makes the already-shit job market even shittier

especially if you’re straight-size, if you wanna support two trans t4t mutual gainers and keep us fed and housed, consider supporting our depop shop?

we’re selling the clothes we’ve grown out of, plus some pins and accessories

You see if Martyn had really asked himself what was going with Grian he would have realized what was happening between him and Scar, and if Martyn had really asked himself why he was starting to dislike the idea of betraying Ren he would have realized he had broken the first rule of the game,

I mean the outsiders, rumble fish, that was then, this is now.

It’s been a few weeks since she ran away (since she had no where else to go, since she was outed as Inhuman, since the power in her put a target on her back), and there he was, for her to convince him to be a hero.

Then again, sometimes, she wonders if it’s Bruce that wants to be a hero. If there is something else, someone else, behind his eyes. Listening and judging. And that makes her think; no one knew much about the Hulk before everything fell apart.

He was big, he was strong, and he wasn’t chatty. The general feeling, she’s seen over the years, was that everyone agreed he was a monster, but not a cruel monster. Just something wild and angry, but pushed to do good by Bruce Banner.

She’s seen those eyes. They aren’t human. They pulse green like the light of an explosion going off, like a door slowly opening with something else behind it, but it is the most intelligent gaze she’s ever seen, with so much pain and furtive energy that nothing can settle down for long. The Hulk is not the one that needs pushing, she supposes: when he told her to run away to safety, it had not been Banner’s voice that spoke to her, full of desperation that someone small and frail might get hurt.

Bruce Banner is a lot more complicated than she thought. And when he talks in his sleep, his voice changes.

His throat pulses and twists, muscles standing on end, veins swelling like cables; his voice ratchets to a growling snarl that is not good with words and bursts out in brief explosions of words, and then it thickens into a more smarmy voice. Astonishingly, it’s vaguely accented, with a hint of Las Vegas in there, a casual diction that feels very strange from him.

Sometimes his mutterings are a deeper voice; not growling, but so bassy that glass clatters. At times, there is the calm word choice of a professor, with vague qualities from all the others, as if they flow together in that moment. And sometimes they are poetic, in their fashion, but very curt. And finally, there’s a final one, welling out of the dark and his dreams.

The last one reminds her of her own father. She’s not sure what to make of that.

But more and more, as AIM strides across the world, she hears him talk at night. It’s hard not to. She’s sleepless more often than not these nights. Dreams are, all too often, awful reminders of what she’s lost and probably won’t ever see again; she cannot stand to see the faces and voices of her mother and her father, her friends and community, left behind, and sitting still makes her think too much of how wrong things could go.

So. She glides across the floors of the old helicarrier. Her legs writhe and slacken like wet noodles, muscles stretching and morphing with her bones into an unrecognizable mess that still has a tensile strength.

And she hears voices, muttering amongst each other, and she abruptly feels as though she is listening to something she shouldn’t.

“There’s a green door.”

His voice fades to whispers, furiously arguing in turn, and once again, she can’t escape the idea that its the echoes of something escaping from him; the debate of a system, from within him.

It doesn’t sound like several people bickering. It sounds like people who are very worried, past the point of all rationality and desperation.

“The green door is opening.”

A brief hesitation.

“Something is behind it.”

He trails off, his breath ragged, twisting in the shallow space of the night.

I realized that a possible caption for this is: Parsee; the Cooler Parsee; the Coolest Parsee

{ Ahhh now that’s an interesting question! I definetly think one of Junji Ito’s strengths as a horror writer is making incredibly relatable characters the audience can easily get attached to and root for - and Kirie is no exception to that.

It’s funny you ask that, though, because a lot of people from what I’ve seen either speculate that Kirie is some manifestation of the Spiral haunting the town, since all the events happen around her repeatedly; or that the Spiral is some kind of deity hunting after her directly.

Personally, I, ( much like my url suggests ) like to believe she’s cursed by the spiral ever since the ‘Medusa’ chapter where it overtakes her hair; since her hair had the ability to captivate and mesmerize people no matter how much she just wanted to be left alone. I think some of that power is still within her. The same chapter also shows us how uncomfortable Kirie is with attention, so it’s very hard to determine what kind of power she would even be willing to work with or take advantage of.

I think in that aspect, Kirie would be terrified of any power she could have that would be more powerful than the forces around her. She harbors so much guilt for the people that have gotten hurt trying to protect her that I don’t  think she’d even use it.