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neoflect · 7 months ago

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sharing some of my disorganized jojo musical thoughts now that ive had a week to sit on it and ive rewatched it several times over. i intended to wait to publish something like this until a subtitled version was available, but im not seeing any indication that thats happening any time soon so for now youll have to deal with my loose interpretations from my extremely rudimentary and rusty japanese… so take what i have to say about the finer points of characterization with a grain of salt. gratuitous spoilers below obviously, both for the original source material and the changes made in the stage production

my feelings are OVERWHELMINGLY positive. of course there are things i can criticize or that i would have personally done differently but oh man… i have literally not thought about anything besides this fucking show for a week. im 100% confident in saying this is a better adaptation of the source material than the tv anime. sorry to the davidpro staff, i respect their hard work and their love for jojo and their dedication to what is by any metric a pretty difficult property to adapt off of the page, but i dont know if i can ever forgive them for leaving half of the first episode’s storyboard on the cutting room floor in order to fit a standard half-hour tv slot, especially considering that what they cut is some of the really crucial character-building stuff. happily those scenes are not only reproduced in the stage version, some of them are expanded upon!

with the quick disclaimer that i’ve only managed to get my hands on the final 4/14 performance with shotaro arisawa and yoshihisa higashiyama, from what i’ve seen the casting is perfect. i’m sure there’s a rip of the 4/13 performance somewhere (i’ve seen clips) but i haven’t been able to find one… every single performer knocks it out of the fucking park, the cast chemistry is incredible and even the minor characters are loaded with charisma. and mamoru miyano… my god… mamoru miyano i owe you an apology. i was not familiar with your game. of course hes been killing it for decades at this point but i had soured on him a little bit recently because i felt like he was overcast in everything and i just didnt connect with his dnt reinhard at all, so when the casting was initially announced back in august i was underwhelmed, and of course my standards for the dio role in particular were astronomically high… i’ll go more into detail later in the post because i have so so many things to say about dio’s characterization here but mamoru miyano’s performance is like, life-changing. i had impossible expectations and he exceeded them.

sorry if im gushing. i am a hater by nature. its unusual for me to be so thoroughly pleased with something. im not even a musical theater guy. these are strange new feelings for me.

just to balance things out i’ll talk about a couple of the things that didn’t really work for me: first of all, the music is just ok. my initial draft of this post called the music “bad” but three additional viewings later i have warmed up to some of the songs. i don’t know if this is a shortcoming by dove attia as the composer or if it’s just me, as i said i’m not a musical guy and a lot of the genre conventions of musical theatre are not really the things i look for in music that i enjoy, but like… even at their worst they are serviceable. nothing here is sonically unpleasant to me. high points are “resolve of the ripple” (zeppeli’s hamon training song, a jazzy swing number - it’s simply catchy and fun to listen to) and the closer “phantom blood” (a sweeping ballad that reprises the earlier “light and darkness”/”golden spirit” leitmotifs into an epic duet between jonathan and dio as they join hands and walk off into the darkness together… made me cry! i wont lie! on every single one of my numerous viewings this one got me misty eyed!)

wait i forgot this is supposed to be the part where i’m being critical. ok my most loathed song in the musical is “dio’s world”. sorry dio nation. it doesn’t really work for me. i think this might be a case of my standards/expectations being too impossibly high because it’s not even really the worst song in the whole thing. and of course miyano eats it up so it’s not really his fault. i just find it kind of underwhelming… i find the melody a little grating, it’s kind of just a generic rock number, it’s just missing a particular je ne sais quoi…. the essence of dio isn’t there… lyrically though i am obsessed with the premise of dio recruiting his minions by selling himself as a kind of social revolutionary who is upending and inverting the brutal hierarchy of post-industrial victorian society with zombie blood magic. you win some you lose some.

the second sticking point for me is the costumes. they’re perfectly serviceable… adequate… but i mean when it comes to jojo “serviceable” and “adequate” costume design obviously falls well below what’s expected, right? a lot of the outfits have kind of a boxy, almost flat-looking kind of unflattering fit on the actors, which if i wanted to be generous i could attribute to the challenge of bridging the gap between these frail slender musical theater twinks and the two-meter-tall 250lb roided-out beefcakes theyre meant to be embodying. (bearing this discrepancy in mind a lot of the insane martial arts stuff in the second act doesn’t really land with the oomph that it should, but i also understand logistically why this kind of casting is not practical, and all things considered i think shotaro arisawa does a really incredible job of embodying jonathan joestar even though he kind of looks like i could snap him in half over my knee like a twig. he’s very cute. so i’m not mad about it.) of course, again, logistically, i understand that in a stage musical production, where actors only have minutes to complete costume changes, some sacrifices have to be made to the creative vision in the name of practicality. nevertheless this is jojos bizarre adventure!! i want to see some fucking baubles!!!!!!

which is all to say that… after carefully considering it for some weeks… i still have extremely mixed feelings about dio’s grink ass feather bathrobe look. it’s not that i dont think its something he could wear (the concept of dio lounging around in his gothic vampire palace doing re-animator style body horror experiments on the local wildlife in this “officer i have no idea what happened to my husband”-ass nightgown is nothing short of hysterical to me) but then he wears it into combat and i felt a little disappointed… it has the same unflattering fit issue as the other outfits in the show, and it is just such an un-araki-like design… where are the gaudy color combinations? the bizarre geometric patterns? the tease of an exposed boob/thigh/midriff? erina gets a stage-original dress design that i have fewer issues with because the excessive pleats and ruffles have more of an araki-esque sensibility, but every time i look at dio’s robe it feels like there’s something missing. i’m going to choose to be nice about it because it’s not at all a deal breaker and, again, mamoru miyano devours the look. it’s fine. it’s always fun to have a new dio outfit. if anything, the fact that the blu-rays are being marketed as “2024 cast version” gives me hope for the possibility of a future production with a new vision for the costume design. (although the fact that this was such a difficult production - with stunts and pyrotechnics and moving setpieces - that its entire first week was cancelled indicates to me that the prospects for a future production from a different company are impossibly slim. i guess there’s always hope?)

in terms of the writing and the changes that were made from the original narrative, honestly i don’t really have an issue with anything that was cut. sorry if there are any diehard stans of Poco’s Unnamed Sister out there who are steamed that their favorite minor late phantom blood character got the axe, i kind of understand how you feel because i’ve been malding over david pro cutting the Danny Lore for eleven years, but i think it was the right choice and the story flows so much better. the real juicy meat at the core of phantom blood as a narrative and the thing that brings it head and shoulders above so much of the rest of jjba is the character-driven drama - that deliciously pulpy victorian gothic family tragedy - and the relationship between jonathan and dio. the musical beefs up the character drama and slims down the action-driven second half by trimming out the extraneous battles. the only real downside i see to this is that the absence of tompetty and his prophecy makes zeppeli’s arc and death feel INSANELY abrupt, but tbf that’s not a deal breaker for me. sorry zeppeli. you were born to die.

okay. okay. i think 1500 words into the post is enough fucking around so let’s talk about the real reason why you and i both know we’re here

musical dio is SO fucking sad. he’s positively wretched, you guys. he was born in a wet cardboard box all alone and forced to eat cement when he was six. he cries even more than he does in the source material and even when he’s not crying he frequently delivers his lines as though he is moments away from bursting into tears. back when the musical first opened i was snooping on the reactions on jpn twitter and one commenter said they could see miyano’s tears and snot from the nosebleeds even without opera glasses, a remark i initially assumed was hyperbole but that i now think probably was not. araki’s dio is certainly tortured and a deeply pathetic crybaby beneath all the cruelty and posturing, but changes in the musical and miyano’s embodiment of the character bring this pathos to the fore. he is literally haunted: dario’s ghost lingers, a manifestation of all of dio’s traumas and insecurities that emerges from the recesses of his memory to taunt him with the reminder that he will always be his father’s son, all the way up until the very minute that jonathan breaks down the door to his vampire lair. i am OBSESSED with this - not only for the obvious reason that i delight in dio’s suffering personally but also because kong kuwata is a delight and he fucking kills it every time. also lends itself to a category 10 leitmotif moment at the top of the second act when dio emerges from the charred ruins of the joestar estate singing dario’s theme and calling out to jonathan - if i had to pinpoint this is probably the moment when this musical stuck for me as the Real Deal. they Get It.

the first solo number in the show is dio’s disney princess I Want song (amazingly, simply titled “dio”) where he weeps for his late mother and his wretched lot in life, and then - in a creative decision that made me clap my hands and hoot and holler at my screen in real life - there is a reprise of this number (delivered, naturally, through tears) when dio is almost arrested for murder and decides to become a vampire instead. so there’s this amazing hopeful uplifting inspirational orchestral music accompanying the onstage action of dio ruthlessly slaying jonathan’s dad and then getting pumped full of lead by a bunch of cops. it is brilliant. 10/10 no notes. it’s moments like this that i think really sell the “softening” of dio in the stage version for me, even though i am historically Not A Fan of fanworks that take a similar angle - like, yes, he is sad, but specifically he is narcissistically obsessed with the spectacle of his own suffering, he is boiling over with bitterness and rage for everyone around him who (by his own estimation) could never hope to have suffered as much as he has. this sensitivity and self-pity he wallows in are not expressions of a guilty conscience or a desire to change - they’re entirely the opposite - every cruel and monstrous deed dio commits is always justified to himself because he is simply the saddest little boy who has ever existed. he has been done wrong by the world and so there is no limit to the depravity he may reasonably respond with. i’ve seen several commenters describe this as a drastically different interpretation of the character from araki’s dio (and someone told me on twitter that mamoru miyano himself has also said this, but i cba to go digging for an actual source so take it with a grain of salt?), but i… dont think thats the case! dio’s obsession with his own weakness and his self-perception as the eternal underdog (as compared to jonathan) are certainly more exaggerated in miyano’s performance, but i don’t think this is an angle to the character that’s been manufactured out of whole cloth. the genre conventions of the stage musical force the melodrama up to eleven and dio’s incredibly repressed angst is the most rich vein to mine for that. hair-trigger sadist dio is still here, it’s the same guy, he’s still killing people mercilessly, you’re just getting to see him sing a big ballad about his feelings instead of confining those to an internal monologue.

if anything, the exaggeration of dio’s pathetic/cowardly/crybaby traits combined with his megalomaniacal aspirations and bottomless well of cruelty is just right. it’s perfect. fucking around, finding out, and then trying to weasel his way out of the consequences with crocodile tears just so you don’t see him drawing his knife to cut you clean open… yeah. thats the stuff. thats my one true blorbo. sad to say i will love him for ten thousand years.

i think that might be all i have to say… or at least all i feel like saying here… most likely ill come back and edit this post later. i certainly have some additional thoughts and some more esoteric/controversial takes but they’re not suited for a public blog. real ones will understand. im keeping my eyes peeled for somebody to translate this thing but to be frank i am kind of enjoying this little corner of fandom as it is right now: just the asians and the true hardcore phantom blood phreaks. i have not had this much fun in jojo fandom in almost a fucking decade. as soon as somebody publishes an english version my timelines going to get flooded with all the most deeply annoying “kono dio da” “speedwagon waifu” reddit guys and 15 year olds and my suffering will proceed. unfortunately this is my lot in life and i am doomed to be here forever because dio put a worm in my brain

#⚰️#jjba tag for blacklisting purposes but i dont want this in the main tag

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hanjisunglover · 1 year ago

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𝐏𝐀𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 - han jisung

pairing: han jisung x chubby fem!reader

genre: fluff :(

summary: just you finding your boyfriend sleeping in the couch.

When Jisung asked to be your boyfriend he created 100 paper hearts, inside them, he decided to confess 100 reasons about why he loves you. You, melted.

He always been sweet and caring with you, comforting you with every doubt or insecurity about yourself and your choices. Always been by your side, not judging in anything, he's just the one.

You try to support him, in everything and for everything, never stopped loving him for a second, even when he doesn't answer your texts after hours.

[ y/n 18:03 ] hey, I know you're in tour, but how are you? :( just miss you a lot, I love you

That message is waiting an answer since two hours ago, you never forced jisung with texting and stuff like that, you know that he's busy. Busy, but you miss him. You miss his touch, his voice, his cute cheeks, his eyes, even his bad jokes.

He's busy and you can't stop thinking about him.

You walk silently inside your apartment, a small one, the first thing that you can see from the main door is the kitchen, that it's weirdly clean, that face to the little living room with a big window on the streets of Seoul. When you told Jisung that you wanted a small apartment, to have a quiet love nest with him, he was so happy. No more chaos with the members, a refuge for him when he needs you, to escape his 'too much' reality.

With a big sigh you walk in, turning on the lights and you can hear a groan from the couch, you immediately turn with a scream, "who's there?"

"fuck, me baby, it's me," jisung with a sleepy and deep voice sits on the couch, his hands with the sleeves of his big hoodie that cover most of his face, his hood put on covering his hair, he looks like he was sleeping there for a while.

"why? why are you here? you should be.. you should be in Atlanta now!" you walk closer, you sounds like you don't want him there but he knows that it's totally the opposite, you loves his job. You know that he deserve the love and the support that fan - like you - gives to him. So why he's skipping the Atlanta concert?

Jisung sigh and he looks up at you, his bangs cover his eyes and he chuckles weakly, "really? you want me to go?"

"no! I mean, yes! you should be there! why.. why you came back?"

Your boyfriend looks tired, almost dizzy as he squeeze his eyes, relaxing his back on the couch, "I missed you, and I didn't felt good, I'm hiding here because I need you." His voice sounds so fragile now, he mean it, he needs you in a way that other people can't.. can't give him. You sit next to him, stroking his hand with a nod.

you can hurt me, I don't care, you can burn me Unlike those who run away from you, I'll embrace you.

author note: needs some attentions and love, this couldn't lives in my drafts for this long ;(

#han jisung #stray kids #han jisung stray kids #han jisung skz #han jisung imagines #han jisung x y/n #han jisung x you #han jisung x reader #han jisung headcanons #han jisung fluff #jixauro #han jisung x chubby reader #chubby reader #chubby reader x han jisung

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godesssiri · 2 years ago

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10 Thrifting tips the thrilling continuation

I am a dedicated thrifter and I have done a few thrifting tips posts, things to look for, how to find the best stuff. I had an excellent day thrifting today and decided it was a good day to polish up a draft I had and post it. So read more for tips to get the goodies.

If you buy fairly plain wooden furniture, it doesn’t take a whole lot of expertise to refinish it. You can get a cheap palm sander for less than 50 bucks, and a small tin of furniture wax goes a long, long, loooong way. Or you can get Danish oil if you want a satin finish or Teak oil for a gloss finish. Don’t let Youtube videos make you believe you have to test out 10 zillion different coloured stains unless you are aiming for a very specific look. Just make sure you slap something nourishing on the wood after you’ve sanded it. Also remember that whatever product you use; multiple light coats will come out better than one thick coat. There’s a huge amount of satisfaction in looking at a gorgeous chunk of wood you’ve bought back to life.

French milled/triple milled soap. Old ladies like to give soap as gifts and people tend to stick it in their drawer to scent their clothes and never actually use it, eventually they have a clean out and this unused soap goes to the thrift store still in it’s original paper wrapping. This soap is expensive. This soap is fantastic. The milling process creates a very different product than the bars you get at the supermarket. It doesn’t go goopy and melty even if you leave it sitting in a puddle in your shower, it’s not as drying to your skin, the scent stays on your skin for longer. These bars last for months, it’s well worth picking them up if you like the scent.

Blue Willow. Would you like to have a nice set of china but don’t want to drop a lot of money on something that might look dated in 10 years? Collect blue willow from thrift stores. Blue willow has been around for hundreds of years and it’s going to be around for hundreds more. It can be slotted in to almost any home style, classical, boho, maximalist, scandi, etc, etc. Because it’s been around for so long pretty much every manufacturer has done it, so you find it really often at thrift stores and it’s easy to pick up a couple of plates here and a serving bowl there. Also, because so many companies have done it over such a long period it’s possible to pick up modern dishwasher safe dinner plates that you can use alongside a lovely 100-year-old antique gravy boat.

Gifts. Never feel ashamed of buying gifts from thrift stores. The perfect vintage item is way more meaningful than any amount of new stuff. And if you’re buying for someone who doesn’t like vintage; if something looks new and undamaged how is the recipient going to know that it’s not new?

Get yourself a thrifting routine. You’re gonna find the best stuff if you go often so don’t just randomly go every now and then. People who say they never find anything are the ones who only call into a thrift store every couple of months and expect something amazing to just drop into their lap. Set a day once a week, or every other week or once a month, but make a commitment to go on a regular basis.

If you see something that you think you like but you’re not 100% sure, as long as you can afford it and have a place for it, get the thing. Take it home, live with it. Maybe you’ll decide you don’t really like it and take it back to the thrift store and consider the price you paid a charitable donation. But sometimes you bring something home that you kinda like and end up absolutely loving it. Some of my favourite things in my house are things I wasn’t completely sure about when I was in the thrift store. There’s nothing worse than the regret of leaving something behind because you weren’t sure about it, then deciding actually I do want that thing, but it’s gone, and you’ll never find another quite like it.

If possible, go with someone who knows your likes/tastes. It’s amazing the number of times I’ve been in a thrift store with my mother or best friend, and they’ve found something I love that I hadn’t even noticed. Plus they’ll be dirty rotten enablers and encourage you to buy the thing that you love but you’re not sure you can justify to yourself.

There are a bunch of Youtubers who do thrift flips. If there’s some décor item that’s in all the stores at the moment and you love it, but can’t justify spending money on it, then it might be worth looking up to see if anyone has done a thrift flip and can give you a tutorial on how to turn a thrifted item into the hot décor items of your dreams.

Keep the cycle going. If you have stuff in your home that you no longer use/love, then donate it. If you’ve traded up and found something better but your original thing still has life in it, donate. Even if you originally bought something from a thrift store no one is gonna be mad if you send it right on back (unless you’ve used it to death, and it really should be heading for landfill).

Don’t put yourself in a box. Don’t refuse to get something because it’s not ‘your style’. What is ‘your style’? Things that you love, that make you happy. Do you love this thing? Does it make you smile? Then it’s your style. Honestly style is something that evolves organically, that grows and expands as we’re exposed to new things. If you try to follow a certain style rigidly then you’ll end up with a home that looks boring and cookie-cutter. Throw in something unexpected that speaks to you. Then throw in another of those things and another and another and pretty soon you’ll end up with a home that actually is your style – maybe you just don’t know what your style really is yet. I think of myself as very confident in my style, but I’m constantly stumbling across new things that I didn’t know I needed in my life.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

#thrifting #thrift shopping #eco home #fuck capitalism #solarpunk #reduce reuse recycle #sustainability

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physalian · 2 months ago

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On self-publishing, and why I did it

Based on the research that I have done, following other indie authors across multiple platforms, I think I've made an approach to this that is a lot less... shall we say, *intense* than people make it out to be? I've seen some YouTube videos acting like picking one route or the other might be the worst mistake of your author career.

I mean, I guess?

Back a few years ago I had a manuscript I was querying around and couldn't find any takers. Couldn't find any publishing houses that were accepting open submissions to pick up my manuscript either. So many of them had clauses in the application verifying that you were submitting to them and only to them and to expect a reply within 8-10 months. Coooool.

I did not have time for that.

—

The manuscript I had was 120k words. Baby’s first novel sitting at 120k words is not attractive to publishing houses. It’s a risk. I was younger and didn’t know much about finding an agent and all that jazz, so I had looked into self-publishing and was staring down an editor bill of about $3k minimum because of my word count. I did not have the money for that.

So that manuscript got shelved, meanwhile I wrote the sequel and got halfway through book 3 before writer’s block took hold.

Enter February 2024. I have an idea for a new book. 31 days later, I have that book’s first draft done—Eternal Night of the Northern Sky, on sale from draft to publication in seven months.

This time, I didn’t consider for one second trying the traditionally published route. ENNS is 111k words, it’s a doorstopper of a book, but the bulk wasn’t the only reason I decided to bootstrap myself to the finish line.

I wanted complete, absolute creative control every step of the way

If I have to market myself anyway, why am I splitting profit with a publishing house?

I *really* don’t have time to wait around hoping the right person sees my manuscript. I have a new job coming that’s going to eat up all my free time and could either delay ENNS a year or more, or get it out while I still had time to do so

I didn’t do this for money

I think that’s what makes so many of those rather intense arguments for one or the other so harrowing—the pressure is a lot higher if you invested all this time, money, and effort expecting returns to break even, if not actually turn a profit. Publishing with a publisher doesn’t guarantee people will buy your book, mind you, but it’s a helping hand nonetheless. If I even want to break even, let's say just on royalties from the ebook, I'd have to sell over a thousand copies.

Breaking down my above points:

I’m a firm believer in “if you want something done right, you do it yourself,” which does bite me in the ass from time to time, this I know. I didn’t want to get caught up in contracts or editors telling me what I could and couldn’t do or what I had to change. If ENNS fails, I will have no one to blame but myself, and I am at peace with this. If ENNS fails, and I’d gone through the trouble of signing my book’s soul away to a publisher, then I’d probably be a little resentful. 100% of ENNS is mine, even the cover. I had an image in my head of what I wanted the cover to look like, and I sat down and I drew it and it matches perfectly. Aside from the feedback implemented from betas and editors, my story is told the way I wanted to tell it. If it fails, I am at peace with this.

On marketing, I am not a person who does well with social media. Maybe it’s autism, idk, but trying to keep up with an Instagram is exhausting. I just don’t get anything from tiny text posts and blurbs and doomscrolling through influencers and advertisements. Social Media is, for me, exhausting. Tumblr is different, because writing is my strong point and this blog exists to share and curate something useful. But either way, I’d have to market this book alone, so why not do so with full creative control? If it fails, I am at peace with this.

I have a new job coming very quickly. My current job allows me about 5 hours of free time during my 8 hour shift on a good day not including the time outside work, and I work from home. ENNS was written in 31 days thanks to this job. The new one? Not so much. Seeing “please allow 8-10 months” and “please ensure this is an exclusive submission” on so many little publishing houses, and I did search far and wide, was incredibly disheartening. For me, personally, it wasn’t worth the gamble of waiting all that time, following the rules, and being told no or just being flat-out ghosted. Nor did I want to sit around querying agents into the void. This time, I didn’t have time to sift through agents. ENNS had to get out on the shelves as quickly as I could get it, and all that time (five goddamn months of editing, 500% of the time it took to write it) was spent perfecting the manuscript that it is, *not* waiting around trying to find an agent. If it fails, I am at peace with this.

And lastly, I don’t care if I make absolutely nothing from this book. I didn’t do it for the money, I did it to say I could. I have a day job, and I’m about to have a much higher paying day job. Maybe I’m lucky enough to have that, but I am under no illusions that putting in the hard work guarantees success. Success as an author is a crapshoot and being an amazing book is not the metric sales are measured in, if no one wants to read it. I’d like to make money, I didn’t do it for charity. It’s going to be priced exactly the same as another fantasy book of its caliber. But if only one person buys it, and finds something good from it, something in it that changes their life, then I will have succeeded, profit be damned. If all else fails, I am at peace with this.

—

This is not a post meant to sway people one way or the other. I know I didn’t do enough research or scour the internet hard enough to find a good agent. All of this is irrelevant when time was the most important factor in my debut novel. I was in a position where I could drop that $3k on an editor, so I did. I’m a capable enough artist to draw my own cover, so I did. I might be abysmal at managing social accounts, but less than a year ago this blog didn’t exist and it has over 5k reblogs and 950 followers and I think that’s pretty swell.

I’m 25 years old. I was not about to let it keep sitting around waiting for the golden opportunity with the perfect publishing house that might not have been coming. I had the means and motive to get it done, and by god, I did it.

If it fails, at least I can say that I failed trying. I am at peace with this.

—

Eternal Night of the Northern Sky is available now on Amazon in ebook and paperback! It is also available through your local bookstore.

Check it out on Goodreads!

#writing #writing a book #writeblr #writing advice #writing resources #writing tools #writing tips #self publishing #self publication #indie author #publishing

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writtenbyred · 8 months ago

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Something Bad // A Matt Murdock x Reader fic // Slow burn

Note: Okay so I finally decided to post something I've had in my docs as a draft for forever, because why not. A slow burn matt murdock x reader romance with a whole lot of original storyline and plot building in this first chapter if you're willing to stick with it until you get the entrance of wonderful and rageful Matt.

Warnings: Reference to sexual violence/assault in this chapter.

Disclaimer: I have, since writing up lots for this story and planning it out and becoming attached to my character, seen other fics using an 'empath' OC, but I have become very attached to 'Ana' and I guess daredevil and all its angst lends itself well to an empath story so I'm sending this out into the ether anyways.

Go forth and read if you would like to <3 - Red

Chapter 1. Emotions.

Sat at a cold, metal table on a particularly uncomfortable chair, you looked intently at the person sitting opposite. There sat a young girl. In her file it said she was 21, but if you hadn’t seen that and had to hazard a guess, you’d have presumed her to be around 18. The way her eyes were cloudy with tears, her hands shaking slightly as she held them up to her chin, elbows lent on the cold metal, it all contributed to making her look younger - small, in that moment.

“It’s okay, Emma” You spoke, edging your hands forward on the table in a subconscious show of support. “You can take your time, we’re in no rush”

Emma looked upwards, then. You watched as a single tear slipped from her eye, only briefly tumbling down her cheek before Emma reached to wipe it with her sleeve.

“I’m sorry,” Emma stuttered a little over her words, her voice raspy from emotion. “I’m being silly, I just-”

As her words cut off mid sentence, you reached your hand forward quickly to place a comforting hand on Emma’s arm. The dark tumbling of vivid feelings - sadness, shame and fear, that you were already feeling inside your chest (or stomach, mind, just about everywhere? You weren’t 100% where the feelings of others ended up locating themselves within you) multiplied until she felt overwhelmed, having to shake her head with an exhale to push through them.

“Do not apologise. You are not being silly, and have nothing to feel sorry for. This is something incredibly difficult you’re doing, and I’m here to help you through it.” You grasped the girl's hand at that point, and in the way that you still did not fully understand, a wave of whatever calm you could find within yourself washed over you and towards Emma for a moment, and the girl let out a sigh as you watched some of that pain leave her. In that moment you felt good, happy that she could provide this sort of relief for somebody, even if only temporarily and not without an increase in your own anxieties.

“Thank you, I… I think I’m ready to talk now” And Emma’s words came at a perfect time, as a few moments later your head turned to the door, a soft knock floating through.

“You can come in” You called out to the officer you knew was standing on the other side, and then the door opened.

A police officer with a kind face stepped into the room, you had spoken with him earlier when you had first arrived - You were pretty sure he had said his name was Brett. He sent a small smile towards you both, and his empathy for the girl's situation shone through, even if you knew he would never be able to understand her emotions quite as well as you could.

“Sorry to interrupt, I just wanted to see how you were getting on” He walked towards the table and you realised then he was holding a mug in his hand, placing it down in front of the girl, he then gestured towards it. “It’s tea.” Emma reached her hand out to grasp it and looked to give him a smile in thanks.

“Sorry Miss Johnson, I didn’t think to get you anything-” You cut off the officer - still unsure if it was definitely Brett he had said, definitely something with a B - before he could finish.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine.” You shifted her attention back to Emma as she released the hand you had half forgotten she was still holding in order to bring the mug to her lips. She seemed more relaxed now, the awful panic of hopelessness and shame creeping in having dissipated slightly.

“So, do you think we’re ready to make a full statement, or?” He trailed off slightly, looking from Emma to you. You looked to the girl, letting the silence continue for as long as necessary, giving the girl the opportunity to make her own decision. You knew her ability to say yes or no had already been taken from her at least once that day, and you weren’t about to do it again.

“Yes, I’m ready to talk now” Emma seemed to sit up a little in her seat, lifting her head higher in her decision.

“Okay, great. I’ll be taking it from you, if that’s okay? We can try to find a female officer if you’ll be more comfortable.” Brett added, pulling the lone chair from the corner of the room to the table in order to sit in between them.

“No, that's fine. But, could Ana stay, please?” Emma’s eyes shifted to yours, and the subtle plea held within them was noticeable, even if you couldn’t feel the emotion rolling off of her.

“That’s okay with me, If Miss Johnson-”

“Of course” You spoke to the room, and then to Emma. “I’ll stay.”

And so you did.

You stayed and listened as Emma spoke of what happened early that morning, when she had been finishing a night shift at around 5am. What had happened when the sky was still dark and Hell’s Kitchen still shrouded in shadows as she made the short walk through back streets towards a bus route. As she had been grabbed, attacked by rough hands who pulled her into an alleyway. You felt fear, panic rising in bubbles from her stomach, to her chest, to her throat. And so you leant forward, taking the girl’s shaking hand in yours when she’d faltered over her retelling, stopping to catch her breath through tears, the emotions intensifying as she worked to calm them. A subtle nudge from your mind, some quiet ringing in your own ears, and you saw as Emma’s shoulders seemed to relax slightly, her rapid breaths slowing and stabilising, allowing her to continue on. You offered her a weak smile in encouragement.

There were many times in your life where you had hated the fact that you were capable of this. When things had become overwhelming when you were younger, when emotions would feel like they were strangling you in some situations.

You hated hospitals, always. The fear, the pain, the hopelessness from so many had twisted painful knots into your stomach, caused your chest to tighten and your eyes to burn, when your Mum was sick, you had avoided the hospital as much as possible, often unable to visit her. your own home, after your mum had died, now that was simply unbearable.

But in rare moments like this, You were grateful for your ability to take some of the girl’s pain away, even if you had to feel it in turn.

Once the difficult conversation was done, Officer Brett Mahoney (you had read his name tag) had stopped the recording and explained to Emma what would happen next. Through this, though, and whilst they left the room and left Emma waiting for whoever she had contacted to come, You’s world was blurred. your body was exhausted, and a deep ache had built within you as you still felt all the painful emotions, now overwhelming your mind after such time. you had to stabilise yourself against the wall in the hallway for a moment whilst Officer Mahoney had gone to talk to an officer, closing your eyes to wait for the momentary dizziness to pass.

Hearing your name made you open your eyes, stand up straighter to face Officer Mahoney.

“Miss. Johnson, thank you for coming down.” His face was serious but the warmth shone through his eyes, as well as his feelings of appreciation, which washed over You like a hot shower, a momentary recess from the dark and cutting emotions you still had swirling within your. “Honestly, I don’t know how you do it, but you really managed to calm her down. She was a mess before, understandably. I don’t know if we would have gotten that statement until morning otherwise. Gives us a much better chance of finding the guy”.

“It’s no bother, I’m happy to do it” You sent a smile at him, your head slowly returning to functioning more capably. And as much as it did take a lot out of you, dealing with the overwhelming emotions of these difficult situations and the police station in general, you really were happy to do it.

“We’re getting a lot of similar cases at the minute” He shook his head at that and a grimace came on You’s face. you knew that, you’d had to do this for far more people lately. “It would be useful to have you there in future.”

A wave of nausea passed over you as another rush of panic and grief washed over you. You stole a glance back to the room you’d just been in, only a few feet away, and you realised you needed to get as far away from it as possible. So you reached your hand into the pocket of your jacket and quickly picked up your card, handing it to Brett with a forced smile.

“Call me here if you ever need someone again” You spoke before lifting your bag on your shoulder and turning to head towards the door, as quickly as you could without causing alarm. On the way out you felt a mixture of anger, grief, happiness, and then some more fear thrown in for good measure, all flowing out of the people sitting in the station.

Once you reached the large entrance doors, finally pushing outside into the cool air, you breathed in a deep sigh of relief. Your hands anxiously patted at your thighs, leaning your whole upper body forward as you shut your eyes, willing your brain to just calm. The emotions within you started to simmer down, as the outside air filled your lungs, it seemed as you exhaled a lot of the pain went with it, and you welcomed that calmer feeling, though some of the dizziness remained.

You hadn’t always been able to do this. As a kid you could remember people praising your empathy, a kind warm child who always wanted to make people feel better, so you supposed maybe it had always lived inside of you. Not that you really understood what ‘it’ was, but it was as you got a little older that it really started. As you started hitting teenage years, it was… overwhelming.

As other kids started being aware of themselves; feeling emotions more deeply, feeling embarrassment, starting to explore romantic interests - You felt it all, except not only for yourself. You supposed one of the first times you realised what was happening to you wasn’t normal was in 8th grade. A girl had come into class after a couple days away, her eyes looked a little lifeless, dark circles and redness that indicated she had been crying, but none of the other 13 year olds seemed to notice this, but You did, because as she walked into the room a pit opened at the bottom of your stomach, seemingly making room for the dark horrific feeling of a sad pain mixed with guilt, fear, hopelessness and anger to enter, taking You’s breath away. As it turned out, the girl had lost her father. That was the first time you had known what grief felt like, and it certainly wasn’t the last.

You checked your phone for the time, seeing it was 5:45pm, you’d spent far more time in the police station than you had expected to, and it was time for you to call it a day. You mostly worked alone, the card you handed over simply stating your name, and a description of Emotional counselling/Advocate/Representative to try and encompass the range of things you did for people. In reality this was everything from working with somebody to calm their nerves before giving a large presentation to, what you did far more often, coaching people who were scared and traumatised giving statements and later testifying in court. You were also part of a company who provided advocates to those who were vulnerable in any legal proceedings or meetings with law enforcement, but often once you had worked with somebody, you handed them your personal card, as agencies tended to pay jack shit.

You had desperately wanted to find any way you could put this curse some would call a gift to use, to try and help people if you could. You had too much experience of not being able to help people, especially the ones you loved, which was still eagerly eating away at you.

Near the station was a coffee shop you’d been to a few times before or after similar trips, and as much as caffeine may not help the banging headache that you had building, in that moment you really didn’t care.

On your short walk to the shop, the fluttering of different feelings inside you that you’d grown used to continued. Somebody on the phone was clearly in love, a warmth spreading through you as you pushed past the woman smiling at whoever she was talking to. Another was stressed, walking with purpose and tension in his shoulders which had passed through to you for a moment. You shook your head, willing yourself to try to tune it out for the moment.

You reached the shop, and headed to join the queue of people also craving their caffeine fix.

You browsed the menu as you took shuffling steps as the line kept moving up, your eyes falling on a sweet caramel filled coffee, your heart tugging towards it. When you stepped up to the counter, however, you ordered a large black coffee. You had a guilty pleasure of sickly sweet coffee, however your life wasn’t so much about what you wanted anymore.

You took a large gulp of the bitter and hot liquid that scalded your throat slightly, but it was better than feeling the remnants of the acidic feeling of panic you’d felt there all afternoon.

Back at your one bedroomed, simple apartment You had chucked your coffee cup into the bin, your body now slightly electrified by the caffeine content, of which you were glad. You expected the night ahead of you may be a long one, and the more awake you were for it, the better.

Grabbing your laptop, you placed it on your rectangular coffee table, taking a seat on the somewhat battered hard leather couch. You then pulled the laptop onto your lap, pressing the power on button.

Once the light finally flickered on and the screen illuminated, you opened up a document you had, very cleverly you thought, entitled Mom’s recipes. Scrolling past the few simple recipes you’d stolen from the Food Network, you came to the page on which you were keeping the information you had gathered. You bit your lower lip as your eyes darted back and forth to scan the things you had previously written.

There was only just under a page of short sentences, but it was a better position than you had been in 6 months ago, so you would take it.

“Daniel - Previous chef at Le Frère Juste restaurant had been known to have fallen into the criminal network of Hell’s Kitchen, believed to be due to a substance abuse problem Mr.-”

You stopped reading that particular sentence, which was a quote from a police report you had obtained a couple months back through means that some would possibly frown upon, including the police that it came from, which meant that perhaps it wasn’t entirely legal. What you had been more interested in was the name attached to said report. One Officer Jenkins, who you had spent time trying to track down for more information, but was so far unsuccessful.

You weren't empty handed, however.

At the beginning was the hardest, not knowing where to look for information,how to recognise the snippets of clues that could lead to more. But once you had finally gotten one name, you’d tumbled into another, then another. you should’ve been more shocked to discover the dark, tangled web of criminal factions that underpinned Hell’s Kitchen, but having lived here since you were 6 years old, you’d already seen (and felt) much of the darkness that shrouded Hell’s Kitchen.

The names you had gathered were few, but you were hopeful one of them could provide you with information you needed. So far you had only approached one of the men on your list, who had been unable to give you any information about Daniel or what he was involved with before he had died. You had half expected that however, having picked what you presumed to be the weakest first, to test whether you would be capable of approaching them, if you could use your ability in the right way to cause them to fear you enough to hand over information. Information you may not have gotten, but the sight of the guy running away at full speed once you’d lightened your effect on him certainly improved your confidence in the matter.

You had attended some form of fighting sport since you were a teen on and off, completing a couple years of boxing, some karate, kickboxing also. You’d figured out that punching, kicking, generally throwing yourself at things in some way was a great method for releasing some of the intense emotions pent up inside you that spilled out from everyone else into you. However, you were not technically a fighter of any kind, so 6 months ago when you’d decided this was something you would have to do, for Daniel, you’d started taking self defence lessons, and then deciding you wanted something a little more on the offensive, you’d started one-on-one kickboxing. Of course, you hoped to be successful enough at using your ability against people, but you weren't stupid, and knew you were getting yourself into something dangerous, and thought it best not to rely on simply scaring gang members into not killing you.

Even with trembling hands, you thought, surely a gun shot would eventually be on target.

Tonight, however, you were hoping for a more successful night. you eyed the second name on your list, and the information you had gained on where this Alex Peters would be this evening by doing some, as some may say, light stalking of Alex a couple of nights earlier this week. you’d known his favourite bar hangout, and after frequenting there many times, you finally got lucky and spotted him at the start of the week, and now you knew he was going to be meeting with some others tonight in Hell’s Kitchen.

Planning on getting him alone, and asking him what he knew about Daniel, you slipped into your darker, more athletic clothing hoping to blend into the shadows. Once you had what you needed, including a small pen knife and mace on your keys, the only physical offensive weapons you had, the last thing you did before you left was pull up your dark hood over your head.

The air in Hell’s Kitchen was cool as an inky darkness had fallen over the sky, illuminated only by the light pollution spilling out of New York City. You sat crouched on a fire escape, one you’d had to wrestle with a pull-down ladder in order to get up on to. It provided you the perfect vantage point to watch what was happening below. You held a small digital camera in your hand, nothing special since you weren't exactly rolling in cash, however it took better quality pictures than your phone did. you weren't exactly sure why you were collecting photos of the criminal rings you had been tipped off to, or what you may use them for, but it made you feel like you were doing something.

Down below, you were watching 5 men interact. One of these was the guy who’s name you’d been given, with a possible connection to Daniel: That was Alex Peters, a relatively short man with a shaved head and tattoos littering his large, muscular arms and seeping on to his neck. Typically exactly what you’d expect from some sort of intimidating muscle man for a gang. Great, You thought, you weren't exactly looking forward to trying to get information from him.

The others seemed to be a mix of associates of Alex and another group. They were discussing something in tones too hushed for you to be able to make out what they were saying, but considering the fact they were a bunch of criminals attached to everything from drugs to murder, you’d hazard a guess that it wasn’t anything good.

They stood within a half decrepit building, either a warehouse or an old multstorey car park of which only metal bones remained, You weren't sure, but either way the damage, which was presumably a result of The Incident, made for a great hotspot for criminal activities, but also thankfully allowed you a great view from your vantage point.

Alex started to split from the rest of the pack, and your attention peaked, quickly placing away your camera into the small over shoulder bag you had, standing yourself up, a little, in preparation.

He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, shouting back to the others whilst he walked in the opposite direction to where they were headed towards a car trunk.

He shouted something incomprehensible, and you started to move. your footsteps light and you shimmied yourself back down the ladder you’d used to climb up in the first place. you could hear your own heart beating loudly in your ears, your chest thudding as you tried to control your breath before approaching this man. For somebody with the ability to manipulate somebody else’s emotions, you sure could struggle with your own sometimes.

You pulled your hood over your head even further, more as a comfort action than anything else. Alex had rounded the corner of a half broken down wall, You watching the light from his cigarette as you circled round in the shadows, crouching hidden behind a large metal waste bin as you ran over and over in your head what was about to happen. You would approach as quickly as possible, the minute he turned the opposite direction and then… Well you hoped that some muscle memory from your far too few kickboxing lessons and the somewhat unpredictable emotional manipulation powers would come into clutch in the moment.

In the distance, there was the loud sound of the other men, clattering of metal as they looked through their trunk and laughed together, but you couldn’t hear that. The world around had slipped away, a dull pressure building in your ears that made everything around your seem slightly slower, it built further as Alex Peters pulled his old phone from his pocket, his attention now turned away from your direction, and the fullness in your ears seemed to suddenly pop, and then everything was moving fast again; too fast.

In a swift movement, you stood to your feet, and gliding steps took you suddenly right to where Alex stood. He started to turn towards you, a breath of an almost word leaving his mouth as he instinctively raised his arm to push you away, but you stepped back, and threw your knee up quickly, your full body weight behind you as you jutted it into his stomach, winding him.

“What the F-” Alex’s breathless words came out quickly, but you couldn’t have him alerting the other men to your presence, because then you’d seriously be screwed, so you quickly reached your hand out to his shoulder, and let an intense jolt of fear out of yourself.

The man before you went rigid, confusion seeming to pass his face before a look of terror enveloped it. You had felt scared more than enough times in your life, and still carried enough of that around to pull it from yourself and throw it into him. So that’s what you did.

A continuous pressure of terror sent between two minds, and soon it was easy enough for you to grip him harder, bringing your other hand to his opposite shoulder, shoving him back against the brick wall.

“Alex Peters.” your voice came out more gruff than you’d ever normally hear yourself sound. It was laced with anger, and presumably adrenaline, but you had to keep it quiet. His stuck wide eyes darted back and forth between yours and the vice-like grip of your hands. He seemed to try to speak, but was unable to, so you continued. “I’m going to give you a name. And you are going to tell me what you know.”

He just looked at you, so you moved your hand to his throat, reaching deeper within yourself to channel more intense feelings into him. He opened his mouth to speak, but instead he gave a quick nod, a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead.

“Daniel, Daniel Johnson. Do you kno-” you couldn’t finish your sentence as your adrenaline fueled trance was suddenly broken by the clashing sound you heard from just past the wall. you whipped your head towards the sound. Your concentration was broken, your mind losing its grip on the channelling emotions for just a moment. But it was long enough for Alex Peters to regain some of his composure, clearly finding his voice enough to shout out, and push you backwards, causing you to stumble over your own legs.

Your eyes were back on him just in time to see his still shaking fist coming towards you, ringing in your ears a moment later as you were too late to fully avoid his hand connecting with the side of your temple. you doubled over for a moment, and suddenly the nerve endings in the front of your face exploded in pain, his knee having connected directly with your nose. you leant back against the metal you originally hid behind, the coolness aiding the heat burning through you. You mustered up the adrenaline to lift yourself up, going after him.

However, as your fingers were just grasping his jacket to pull him backwards, your eyes focused ahead and saw that the other men were now approaching. your fuzzy mind had only enough time to pull into focus one word; Shit.

All of a sudden, with the distant sound of a soft thud, there was another figure standing before you. In the dim light, it seemed like just a shadow of a man. But all of a sudden, one of the men was on the floor, and the others were now focused on a new target.

The new development didn’t keep your attention long though, with the others now running to throw punches at the shadow figure, you could turn back to Alex and throw your arms at him again.

You grabbed his forearm, and let your mind kick into action in a way that was becoming more practised, more perfected. you threw your body weight at him, stumbling you both back against the brick wall, Alex’s back thudding roughly against it at which he let out a small cry.

“Daniel Johnson, tell me.” Your voice was rushed, desperation sneaking through into your tone, your need for answers burning at your already gravelly throat. His eyes however were focused to his right, where over his shoulder, the other men he’d been with were either choosing to run or being beaten to the ground. His fabricated terror seemingly having found a new perpetrator in the shadow man. And he fought back against you, clearly desperate to join his fellow cowards in escape. You were pushed backwards once again, your smaller frame at your disadvantage, and for a moment your breath caught in your throat, the flash of dark metal catching your eye, the gun in Alex’s hand being lifted up towards you, but almost instantly, Alex disappeared from before you.

You could feel your shaky breaths coming back, faster than usual, the quickened beats of your heart in your ears at full volume again. The gun was gone from Alex’s hand when you looked back to him, and instead he was being hit swiftly around the head with it, knocking him sideways. you watched as the shadow of a man grabbed Alex by the neck, his other hand clasped into a fist, quickly connecting with the side of Alex’s temple. Once. Twice. A third hit, and Alex’s eyes had fallen closed, his body grew limp, and it fell to the floor as the man released his hold on his neck.

For a moment you just stood there, watching the back of the man clad all in black, your quick and shallow breaths seemingly mirroring his as his tight shoulders heaved up and down in steady rhythm. For a moment, he just stood there also. Still, unmoving.

Slowly, he turned around to face you. You weren’t sure how you were meant to feel, having seen this man just take out 5 or more men in the space of a couple minutes, standing alone in an alleyway with him, but the large amount of adrenaline was clearly still coursing through your veins because you didn’t take much notice to how you should feel.

What you did feel in that moment, though, was a deep seated rage. you hadn’t the functioning brain power in that moment to ponder whether that emotion was bubbling up inside of you or flooding out of the man before you.

You watched him as he seemed to consider you for a moment, his head twitched to the side, and you tried to study him also, but the majority of his face was covered by black cloth. You took a momentary glance over his all black attire, the thin material splayed across his thick torso severely lacking in protection. Before he had the chance to say anything, the thick and red hot rage was clawing at her throat to be verbalised.

“What the hell.” Your voice was gravelly, pitched low as you stood in some sort of standoff with this shadow of a man. You couldn’t see his facial expression, only the slight tick in his jaw as he slowly cocked his head in the other direction.

“Excuse me?” His voice was deep. It was rough and came from deep in his chest, which was still rising and falling in rapid respiration. You simply narrowed your eyes at him, reasonable thought and any sense of self preservation clearly out of the window with the adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

“I said, what the hell, man” You lifted a hand to your hair, roughly pushing away the wisps of it that had fallen in front of your face. “I was just about to- well, whatever, but you jump in here and ruin it.” Your voice was somewhat hectic.

With Alex Peters having run off, your chance of getting some more information about Daniel had gone with him, and at that moment, all of your negative feelings about that outcome were being filtered and thrown straight at the man before you. It seemed those feelings were mostly anger.

His lips seemed to press into an even more grim line, as he shook his head in a movement ever so slight, it may have been a subconscious reflex in his disagreement.

“If I hadn’t jumped in when I did then you’d most likely be dead right now.” He stated matter of factly, causing you to scoff.

“I can handle myself just fine, thank you.” Your hands rested upon your hips, trying to hide the way they still shook slightly from the man before you, an attempt to exude confidence, despite the way your heart rate was still racing.

“I’m not sure I would call having a gun pointed to your head, handling yourself, exactly.” Although his lips remained in a line, his voice still grim, it gained the slightest lilt of teasing to it, and flames of annoyance built up in your chest, escaping in the way of a groan of exasperation.

“I would have been perfectly fine, without you showing up and chasing away my- That guy.” Words flew from your mouth a little quicker than you could filter them, realising you probably shouldn’t be telling details of your plans to the stranger in front of you.

“Sure you would.” His voice and the feelings that flew off of him held no ounce of truth. “You need to be more careful, what are you doing out here trying to talk to these guys?” His head cocked to the side once against, an almost questioning taunt to his positioning.

His near chastising tone brought a laugh from your lips.

“What’s it to you?” You narrowed your eyes at him, taking a small step back from him, looking him up and down from clothed face down to a tough black boot, and it clicked for you where you'd seen this shadow man before. You drew in a sharp breath.

The Man in Black.

You’d seen the papers as you walked past the stands, you’d seen the news and heard local radio all talking about this Man in Black. A vigilante sort, who seemed to be travelling around Hell’s Kitchen and regularly beating the shit out of people.

“Well, I’m just trying to-” He started again, less gravel to his voice now he seemed to have calmed a bit, but you cut him off before he could impart his opinion on to you.

“Stop it. I know who you are” He stilled for a moment, taking you in as you purposely rolled your shoulders back, standing a little taller before him, still feeling those sparks of rage flickering. “The Man in Black” You added emphasis to his given title with the lilt of sarcasm in your voice clear.

“I don’t need to take advice from some vigilante, going around and spreading violence. You have no idea what I’m doing, who I am,” For some reason you hadn’t quite realised, a lot of vitriol was building into your voice as you addressed the man in black. Thinking of the many people you’d heard of him having fought. The people he’d hurt. How was he to know if the people he fought deserved it? What if it was somebody just caught up with the wrong people. Someone like Daniel. “You’ve screwed things up for me here tonight, I have a banging headache from being punched, and also knee-d actually, in the face, and now no information, so thank you very much, Man in Black, but I think this is where I’ll be bidding you goodnight.

His lips parted slightly, which was just visible to you under the dim glow of distant street lights down the alley. It looked like he was about to speak, but before he could you heaved your bag further up your shoulder, a wince as you jolted your head with your movement, and spun on your heel.

“You’re hurt…” His gruff voice trailed off, but you simply waved a hand in his direction, exhaustion suddenly pulling at your mind, and knowing vehemently that you did not need saving by some guy in a black mask.

You continued to retrace your steps towards the ladder that led you back to your vantage point and a way home, empty handed. However, the deep voice stopped you again whilst you were only a few metres away.

“Wait.” You tilted your head slightly back in his direction. “The name you said, Daniel Johnson was it-”

Anger shot through your veins, your voice coming out as more of a growl. “Don’t say that name” You simply said, watching as the man in black stood still, his lips still parted in question. But you simply turned and walked away, having had enough of the night.

Your legs dragged heavy beneath you, feeling like logs as you battled each step. Now the adrenaline was wearing off, every step felt more difficult, and exhaustion was truly trying to pull you under the whole way back to your flat.

As you walked down dark back alleys and hidden streets, you tried not to think about the fact that you’d had a gun pulled on you this evening, the cool metal of it still a phantom feeling against the skin of your head. Tried not to think about the fact that you could have died, and that for all of that, you still had no new information, thanks to the Man in Black.

A couple of blocks from the location of your night's altercation, you paused, a heavy stone in your chest as you lent your head back against the cold and rough brick of an alley wall. A couple of shaky breaths escaped you, and much to your dismay, now that you were alone, surrounded by nobody’s emotions but your own, a tear slid from between your lashes down and over your cheekbone. You shook your head, and pushed off the wall with a kick of your feet, desperate to get yourself home.

You pulled your jacket closer around your body, your hood still tight over your head, and walked quickly through the darkened and unsafe streets of Hell’s Kitchen at night, in the direction of your apartment. You kept your head down, trying your best to avoid any trouble. You didn’t think you had it in you for another fight of any kind this evening.

You weren’t aware, however, that were you to encounter one, the man in black would be right there with you.

#matt murdock #fan fiction #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x oc #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock fanfic #here goes nothing #sending this out into the ether

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chestcongestion · 6 months ago

Note

Do you have any snz headcanons for Stolas?

A a a aaa snzcanon train goes c r azy, I have many!! (Also hello hiiii, seeing you in my notes every now and again has been so sweet, I am waving ecstatically ^^)

Cannot stifle to save his life, he was never taught how and it never feels right, if the sneeze doesn't hit, he will sneeze again and again until it hits right, his body demands it.

Sneezes end up being a bit owl-y, lots of "Hnk'TsSHOO! H-hah'KSsSHOO! HrR'SsCHOO!"

Usually sneezes in doubles or triples, a single sneeze is rare.

Being sheltered for most of his developmental years gave him a l o t of allergies: dust, mold, mildew, cat hair, lavender, a lot of the "cheaper" soaps and shampoos (He is s o thankful that Bl/itz is bald), the list goes on

Was also only taught how to cover his sneeze using a handkerchief, not his arm, because god forbid he sully his beautiful expensive clothes, which means that if he doesn't have a hanky to cover with... he's using his hands (yeah...super classy)

Always has at least one handkerchief on him at all times, and is not above using a pocket square as a makeshift handkerchief if he needs to/ if his regular hanky is already soaked.

Not a very wet sneezer, his sinuses tend to be very dry unless he's got a particularly nasty cold (unfortunately this means he's prone to "nose"/beak bleeds with all of his sneezing causing friction without moisture)

His eyes water a lot, it looks almost elegant and dainty as though he's a bit teary-eyed or passively crying, but then his sclerae turn red and his lower eyelids get puffy and it goes from "Aww cute" to "Here is ALL of the Hell-Dryl, go nuts"

Gets very sneezy when he drinks, particularly when he drinks red wine because it's so "dusty"...and also because he might be allergic to it, who's to say, he refuses to get another allergy test done because last time he got so many positives that the itching nearly turned him feral.

His immune system leaves... some things to be desired. It isn't necessarily weak, but it's definitely been skipping the gym. If he's around someone while they're ill, or even around someone who's been around someone else who was ill, he's probably catching it.

Has a more fragile constitution, something that St/el/la pestered him about constantly, telling him to cover up, layer up, stay out of drafts, because if there was one thing worse than being seen with her wimpy husband, it was being seen with him while he was sniffling and sneezing.

^ He would complain that she exaggerated but she was 100% right. Opening the freezer while still damp from the bath? Cold. Sitting in a draft without his dressing gown or a cardigan? Cold. Not toweling off after gardening in the rain? Cold.

^ He has a sore throat every other week because he refuses to stop walking around his big drafty palace with his dressing gown open and his chest out. Stubborn motherfucker.

#he/llu/va bo/ss #snz #snz kink #gingey.ask #long post

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tickldpnk8 · 10 months ago

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Winter’s Edge: Death, A Winter’s Tale

A long time ago (in Tumblr years), folks were discussing Death’s character, and asking me to weigh in. (@rey-jake-therapist do you remember tagging me? this has sat in drafts for precisely that long) Coincidentally, I was writing this post during that time and ended up sitting on it due to reasons I'll get into below.

The next issue in my Sandman Reread is A Winter’s Tale. So today, we'll be discussing Death as a character and what she says of herself in this issue. And it was really hard to write this because the story is pretty short and is essentially the monologue we hear from Death in the TV episode for "The Sound of Her Wings". So from my perspective, there wasn't a lot new to explore in this issue.

But since I started this post, we've been talking in the Sandman Bookclub posts about how the Endless really are their concepts. And I ended up not posting this and completely rewriting it. So without further ado, my thoughts...

First up, I loved the art in this: simple black and white pen and ink sketches are overlayed with watercolor backgrounds. I love the use of paint bleeding across the paper to give a background. The loose sketches give it a fresh feel.

As for the premise, the whole issue is basically what we hear in Sound of Her Wings as I mentioned above. Death talks about how in the beginning, folks were excited to live and die, but then things took a dark turn and she started to hate her function. She ended up quitting for a while and not ushering folks to their afterlife until an individual came to her and showed her what she had done. Then she goes through a period where she's kind of hard and cold until a small girl puts things into perspective. Here we learn that Death takes a day to live every 100 years so she can experience life and death.

So back to Death as a character and a concept. It's interesting to me the journey she goes on. What would make Death withhold her gift? What would make her become cold and brittle? What would make her chose to live among us for a day? If I think about this whole tale as a metaphor, I'm not sure I can come up with a good explanation or story for it. (if @poobtato or @writing-for-life have any good takes on what would be the backstory here, I'd love to hear them.)

However, I do think there is a good parallel between the way that death has been perceived by folks and differing cultures to the different feelings She attaches to her function. Death is indiscriminate. She can be cold and unfeeling. Untimely. A relief from terrible circumstances. Compassionate. Loving.

And I think that ultimately, it's so easy to see her as a character who is a friendly face. Who is a loving sister. And because of that we tend to look at her as a human and forget just what she is: the end. The end of a life, of a story, of a perspective. She's comforting, but she's still an end. And no softening of her character can negate that.

She and Morpheus may have a lot in common. There is a conceptual overlap between sleeping overnight and the final rest we all take. Hamlet's soliloquy even ties the two together ("To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there's the rub: For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause...") Not to mention how we've all joked about La petite mort here on Tumblr. It's easy to view the 2 of them as simply two siblings who are close.

However, I do think there is something to them being close and Morpheus drawing closer to death as he gets closer to his sister. They can't help being what they are. So if Death is a bit insensitive to Morpheus' depression/suffering, she can't really help it. She's not human: she is literally Death. Death doesn't really care what leads you to her: she's there waiting for you in the end regardless. To be close to his sister, is to be close to death itself. To be comfortable with the idea of it. To seek it out. Even if she is the one who finds him at the park. She extends the invitation to come with her, and he follows. I love her, and yet, I want to shout at Morpheus to keep his distance.

If Sandman is a tragedy and a story about grief, this issue sums it all up from her perspective. Death is all of the above: it's a fact of life and it touches us all at some point before it's our time. I like that ultimately, Gaiman chooses to embrace a friendly face at the end. Rather than leave us with a colder, meaner end, he gives us a Death who is that friendly face. Who will walk with us to whatever lies beyond. Who is a comfort. It's given me a lot to think about, and I've decided that I want this to be the end that awaits us all.

#A Winter's Tale Reread #death of the endless #sandman meta #sandman book club #sandman bookclub #contemplating mortality

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einsatzzz · 8 days ago

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KHRe Projects Updates #2

Making another update post because OCtober is over, yippeee!! I'm very proud of the art I've done this month and I think it's also the most I've drawn for an OCtober event. I hope next year I'll be able to draw even more and maybe even complete all 30 days.

And with that out of the way, I'll be jumping back into working 100% on my projects. I'll post less art this month (save for asks if inspo strikes) because I'll be working on them behind the scenes, so I'll mostly be an OC supporter this month and just catch up on everyone's OC stuff that I missed whenever I have a chill time hehehe

Anyway, here's my progress on them so far!

Wiki: I plan on doing a lot of major edits on the wiki this time. I have a few that's already just sitting by on the sandbox pages already. I'll do them topic by topic/page by page, so whenever I make a major update, I'll do a post about it here (or maybe a summary of wiki updates if it's way scattered).

Planned updates this month include adding pages for Yui and then Tsuna (if possible Reborn too! I know they're a package, I'll do my best lmao please don't shoot me, Reborn!). I also plan to add another section under Relationships > Appellations for KHRe-Occurence interactions!

Webcomic: We are so back on this one! For now my initial draft of the chapter order in terms of character debut is more or less finalized. For this first part, I decided to just cover character introductions/focus chapters for now, which I estimate to last for about 12-13 chapters (covering for 15 characters, mix of canon and OC).

I should be able to figure out where to go from that point while drawing chapters 1-13! Daily Life Arc is so important to me, I'm not skipping the good shit 😆💖✨ But I already do have a few more Daily Life Arcs in mind after that and a few mini-arcs.

In terms of assets, I'm just thankful I even managed to put together some 3d assets/references I can use for Namichuu. I also more or less have the whole school mapped. I'll be putting this information in the wiki as well, in case anyone wants to make use of it too. Now I kind of want to make a rough draft of a Namimori map hahaha

Because of this, that scene with Ryohei convincing Hibari to do the trial in the Arco Trials Arc became even more funnier to me lmao 🤣🤣

For target release, if we're just talking about Chapter 1 then definitely this November is doable. But then I lowkey want to get ahead till to around Chapter 3-5 too! I'll think about it more!

My even bigger stupidass problem is I also want to draw a webcomic that's Oniyanagi 1st Gen-centric, but I only have two hands so sjhfshvfgs Making comics is so fun ok??!! I just don't have enough time lmao

For the artstyle, I decided to just use the same brush for the comic I did with Kana and Myell's Entity. The edges for that are smooth enough while still having a pencil-like feel to it, so coloring with the paint bucket tool would be easier. I considered using the pencil brush I'm using for rough sketches right now because I'm faster with those, but yeah, the coloring. I'll also be doing a mostly "Don't look back, just keep drawing" approach, so I don't take 100 years for chapter 1. It won't be 100% clean, but maybe just decently not messy enough? Anyway, I'm still thinking of other ways to be faster at drawing, aside from just increasing my overall stamina 😭😭😭 (I get tired so easily). Time to start lifting Ein! 💪✨

In addition to the main story, watch out for any new KHRe-OCcurrence chapters that I might drop in between 🥰🥰🥰

MV: I'm working on 📺MV and should also finish it within 2-3 months while working on my other stuff (2 weeks if I mentally zoom in & obsess over it somehow). I have the vivid storyboard for the entire thing laid out in my brain now. I think finishing this will hype me up more to draw more webcomic stuff hahahaha You'll know when you see it.

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Projects aside, I'll be resuming posting my other commissioned art here again yippeee!! I'm just really super thankful there are people who like my original stuff and interact with me here sfhdvhfvsvf and on the flipside, I'm also super thankful that people share their original stuff with me as well (or at least where I can see!). It takes a lot of courage to share your original works out in public, so it's practically SSR-rank content for me.

I have a few oc-related project/posts (even if it's not khr-related) that I have bookmarked as well, I'll do my best to check them out this month as well! Seeing other people with projects also hypes me up and inspires me, so the more the better! fhsvdfhgvhgdfvds Honestly, this small corner of the internet/tumblr that we have going on is kind of like a comfort place for me now, love ya'll ! 🫶🫶🫶

#einproject #khre #einart #2024 is legit the year I drew the most art ever since I started drawing in around 2010s #im so quiet irl #but keep on yapping and yapping here #im so happy i have this project tag to ramble about my progress whew #reborn pls don't shoot me it will be done soon please!!! sdjhvfhsgdf

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defectivehero · 2 years ago

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Heyy!! Just wanted to ask: Do you have any tips for writing fight scenes? I kinda struggle with it

(if you see the same ask somewhere else it's because i asked a few people lol)

helloooo! i'm far from an expert, but here are some tips that first came to my mind:

[and, of course, don't feel pressured to do any or all of these things! write whatever you want]

focus on the little details—look at the setting. where are the two characters fighting? is it urban or rural? are they on a busy street, with lots of passerby or a deserted alleyway? what is in their immediate vicinity that can enhance the scene? perhaps there's a discarded bottle lying on the ground that one of the characters can grab in a spontaneous movement and throw at their opponent. the environment is incredibly important, because it can have a huge impact on the fight itself! after all, people will fight differently depending on the setting. if a villain is fighting a hero in a tight space, their movements are going to be different than if they were in a wide open space with freedom to move however they desire.

character. descriptions. CHARACTER. DESCRIPTIONS. I cannot stress this enough. without at least some descriptions, it'll sound monotonous. 'he hits them, then they dodge' blah blah blah. that's boring! spice it up a bit! what does the person's opponent look like? is their stance low to the ground? do they look more guarded than usual? perhaps there's a strange expression on their face or a gleam in their eyes. hell, maybe there's dirt, grime, or blood on their clothes. those simple things will further cement your characters and also keep the audience's interest as you move through the scene. plus, they're awesome for foreshadowing.

don't be afraid to break things up. a fight scene shouldn't be 100% fast-paced, otherwise the readers will be left feeling confused and things will progress too fast! when you really think about it, the majority of fight scenes are not filled with constant hits, punches, and kicks without a moment for a breather. personally, I'm very weak to the moment where the two characters will break apart and circle around each other, breathing hard. that kind of stuff will make things even more hard hitting. don't be afraid to include dialogue, either! dialogue really enhances a fight scene, in my opinion. [and yes, sometimes dialogue isn't practical. but even a simple hissed remark or muttered insult can go a long way!]

lastly, don't force it. that is going to sound stupid, but... if you're dreading the idea of writing a long ass fight scene... think about some alternatives to that! i kind of get stuck in this mindset sometimes of: 'oh, this needs at least three paragraphs of solid action & back and forth fighting.' I've definitely gotten into situations where a piece will be sitting in my drafts for MONTHS just because I can't get through one particular portion of it. at that point, I can't help but think: 'Why bother?' I really do think that, if I don't enjoy writing something, it will show. so keep that in mind as you write! writing what you want to write > writing what the story necessitates.

sorry if this doesn't make sense.. but these are just some things that work for me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#wow this turned out to be longer than I intended #oopsie hehe #defectivehero #writing #hero x villain #hero and villain #writing tips #idk #writeblr #writers on tumblr #yuh #gah I gotta post something on this account lol

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mauannacreates · 1 month ago

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Hey guys.

So I would have to say that this day is a special day for me. I mean, it's my birthday today, and I guess I just want to reflect on some things that I just want to take a focus on, at least for this year, next year and beyond that would be even better.

Why would I do it on my birthday? I mean, I guess I want to reflect on some things, since you are only getting older and wiser, not younger...

And it's not to say that being old at this point of my life is a bad thing. I mean, being in my younger 20s is probably to say that according to a lot of people, it would be the hype of your life. Or it's the learning stage of getting up on your own two feet without the mandatory schooling years telling you what to do.

So the past few months, besides the writing on my book whenever you can, has been a bit more of a real-life rut for me more than a hype. Trying to understand the dynamics that I have between people while also getting those free for all OTs that are easy to access at my work. Running because of the hype of my legs going out of control, and well...

I got sick.

It's not as bad as some of the other illnesses, but I got nearly the whole week off work (nearly, because I did two hours of work one day before being sent home since I didn't look the best... and was told to stay home that day.) but that gave me the time to sit, reflect, do a bit more of my writing, and have the constant sniffles that doesn't want to go away that easily, which I still have, but it is getting better.

If I were to be absolutely honest, I haven't really been writing on the computer that much on the things that really matter to me, like my stories. I have been making progress on my stories, but not 10000ish a month like I have been since July. August was a bit under, but ok. But last month...? It was a slump. Barely 6000 words that I have done of that for the past month. I guess that has got to do with the lack of goals that I have placed on myself for the past few months and losing focus on that.

But I am hoping that for the rest of this year, I will be able to focus on my drafts and to get my fifth...? Sixth? Whatever draft this is of Conjured Secrets done.

Because there is a sledge that you get to when you haven't been making much progress, and then you're just trying to remember everything that has happened in the story so far, and it's not a good feeling. So, it's something that I have to try to think about while I'm creating my story, and I'm going to have to do around 600 words a day if I want to reach to that deadline.

And I do want to make sure that this gets done. Maybe get it beta read? Edited by an editor? I don't know, but I am noticing that this time, it's getting a bit harder to do in comparison to the other drafts. I'm not sure if it's a good or a bad thing that it's harder, like it drags sort of thing, but I am willing to put my blood, sweat and tears into this draft until it's completed, and to see my characters grow from it.

This is my bit of rambling of the day. I am still not 100%, but I will focus some time onto this today, and hope to being more focus and vigor into it as the days go past.

#writing #writeblr #writers of tumblr #creative writing #writing community #mauanna rambles #writer thoughts #writer problems #writing progress #writing goals #sorcerer of runes (sor) series #real life talks

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fnrrfygmschnish · 7 months ago

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For some reason this post was sitting in my "drafts," and whenever I originally typed it all up (..and there's a lot of it, hence the "keep reading" doohickey that I rarely use) I just kinda... never posted it?

Not sure why.

Anyway...

It bugs me when I see people talking about clones and assume that if someone made a clone of you, it would be exactly like you and it'd be very difficult (if not impossible) to tell the two of you apart.

No. Unless you're talking about a "magical duplicate" type scenario, that is not how it would work at all.

The biggest difference, of course, is that a clone created through scientific methods wouldn't have your memories and life experiences. The clone might have some of the same phobias or mental disorders as you (since those, or the predisposition toward them, tends to be at least partially genetic), but fears and insecurities you've developed as a result of bad experiences in your life would not be present in the clone... and fears that you had at a younger age but have since gotten over might still be more of an issue for the clone. Experiences that have lead you to enjoy certain things more than you used to also wouldn't have happened to the clone... so your clone might not like the same foods or drinks or music as you, for example. The clone might share some of your basic personality traits (or at least have a predisposition toward them), but most people change a lot throughout their lifetime. Your clone wouldn't have the "muscle memory" for certain things like typing, using certain tools, riding a bike, driving a car, or playing certain sports unless they were specifically trained to have those skills. Your clone wouldn't know that one random obscure bug/dinosaur/shark/etc. fact that's been stuck in your head since you were 7 years old. Your clone wouldn't have picked up the phrases and mannerisms you did, because they never met the people/groups you picked them up from. Heck, your clone might not even have the same accent as you or speak the same languages, depending on who created and raised the clone. Your clone wouldn't use the same slang as you, wouldn't get the same references, wouldn't understand the same inside jokes. Mentally and in terms of behavior, your clone would not be "like you" in any real way at all. The two of you would seem more like siblings separated at birth than like two copies of the same person; you might look very much alike but you would be very obviously two different people.

But that's not all! Even in a purely physical sense, a clone would not be exactly like you. A clone created by purely scientific methods would only be "exactly like you" in one way, which is their genetics. And even that isn't 100% guaranteed because you never know when some random burst of radiation, fluctuation in temperature, or even just a glitch in the mechanism of cells dividing could lead to a mutation. Possibly a very small one that will be barely noticeable, but possibly something more significant.

A few other ways a (non-magical) clone might be noticeably different...

Scars, injuries, dental work, lingering issues from disease, etc. A clone did not suffer any of the injuries or ailments that the original person experienced growing up. A clone of me would not have that scar through my right eyebrow from a fall when I was 2 or 3 years old, or the one on my right hand from 5th grade. His big toenail on the right side would grow in differently than mine, because he never had that toenail get so severely ingrown that a doctor had to cut parts of it out. He would not have my surgical scars from when my gallbladder was removed. He would not have any of the fillings I've gotten in various teeth that had cavities back in the days when I drank way too much soda and hadn't started flossing yet. A clone of anyone who's had broken bones in their lifetime could be told apart from them on an X-ray if you looked closely enough, especially if the original person's bones healed back slightly "off" in one way or another (like how my dad's legs were never quite even in length ever again after he fell and broke his hip later in life.) A clone of a medieval longbow archer would have very different bone structure in the arms unless they were also trained to use a bow. A clone of Louis Braille wouldn't be blind, because he would have never suffered the childhood eye injury that damaged his vision. A clone of Franklin Delano Roosevelt wouldn't need to be in a wheelchair, because his legs wouldn't have been paralyzed by the long-term effects of polio. And so on.

Sun tanning. A clone has not had the lifetime worth of sun exposure that the original person had, so they would either be paler all-around or have a different degree or pattern of tanning than the original. This is probably the easiest thing on this list to "fake"... but even then, whoever's making the clone has to know what parts of someone's body are more or less tanned than others, since most people get tanned by being out in the sun with at least some clothes on (hence patterns like bikini lines, "farmer's tan," etc.) rather than exclusively by way of nude sunbathing or a tanning bed.

Tattoos, piercings, implants, etc. Okay, this is probably the easiest one on the list to "fake," for obvious reasons... but it's also the easiest one for the maker of the clone to "miss" if they didn't know about something like, say, a nipple/genital piercing or a tattoo in a place that's usually covered up by the original person's clothes.

Height and weight. A clone of someone whose bad living conditions or illness growing up led to stunted growth might turn out an inch or two taller than the original. And vice versa, a poorly-treated or malnourished clone of someone who grew up in good conditions might turn out a bit shorter than the original. And while there are definitely genetic factors involved in your body's tendencies toward gaining or losing weight (and how much), external factors are also involved. A clone of an overweight person might very well be skinnier than the original, while a clone of someone who's severely underweight is likely to be plumper than the original. And weight isn't just from fat of course! A clone of someone who's built a lot of muscle over their lifetime isn't going to just get all that muscle for free without going through a similar amount of training and exercise. Heck, what kind of exercise and training someone's gone through makes a difference too -- a martial artist, an Amish farmer, and a basketball player are all likely to be "more muscular" than the average person, but each one is going to have certain muscle groups that they've used more than others. Unless you put the clone through very similar working conditions, they won't be equally muscular in the same areas when compared to the original person.

Sexual orientation and possibly gender. We don't have a complete understanding of how either of these features of a person comes to be just yet, though thanks to what research has been done it's pretty obvious that they're complex things that have multiple factors involved (not as simple as a single "gay gene," and definitely not a mere "lifestyle choice" like the anti-gay/anti-trans people often like to claim.) From what I've read here and there, it seems pretty widely agreed upon that there are both genetic factors (probably several different genes involved) and others such as hormone levels in the womb; all stuff that's determined before you're even born, but originating from several different sources. Anyway... my point is, while the clone will have all the genetic factors that lead toward being one way or another, the other factors aren't necessarily going to be the same (or present at all.) Hormone levels in the womb, for example, aren't going to be a factor that's easy to replicate in the cloning process unless whoever made the clone has been monitoring your parents since before you were born specifically to keep track of every possible condition that could have influenced your development. And since this is something we don't have anywhere near a complete understanding of yet, it's especially likely that whoever's making the clone might goof up somewhere along the line... so depending on exactly what factors are involved and which parts of someone's orientation are more hormone-level-influenced vs. gene-influenced, you could end up with gay clones of someone who's very straight (or vice versa!), asexual clones of someone who's not even on the ace spectrum, and so on. And of course, cloning a trans person who's undergone any medical transition procedures is going to result in a very different-looking person than the original for obvious reasons! Even someone who hasn't had any surgical procedures, only hormone therapy, would look drastically different than their clone in most cases... even beyond the obvious stuff, HRT affects a lot of different areas of the body such as bone structure, hair growth rates and patterns, and so on.

So... yeah. Unless they're a magically created copy of the original person, a clone is never going to be an exact duplicate in every possible way.

And heck, in some cases even a magical copy might have some quirk to it that gives away which one is the clone. Whoops, turns out the cloning spell that the evil wizard used was mirror-themed so the clone's features are all "flipped" relative to the original! Look to see which one is right-handed and which is left-handed (...and hopefully you know which hand the original person actually used), or check to make sure scars/tattoos/birthmarks are on the correct side.

#cloning #clones #how stuff works #sci-fi #just random thoughts that I ended up rambling on about forever

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