#(people who remember the poem scene… you are the real ones)

[yuikomorii]

BOLD what applies. ITALICIZE what sometimes applies. STRIKE what doesn’t. REPOST & DON’T REBLOG.

likes  artificial  watermelon,   sleeps  in  what  they  are  already  wearing,   eats  their  cereal  with  milk,   listens  to  music  with earbuds,   hates  the  summer,   can  recite  passed  the  first  four  digits  of  pi, eats  frosting  out  of  the  jar,   doodles  on  their  notebooks, can  bake  cookies, has  a  garden farm, has  had  a  snowball  fight, eats  pancakes  without  syrup,   prefers  shorts  over  pants,   can  name  more  than  ten  superheroes, has  a  plan  for  the  zombie  apocalypse, uses  the  same password  for  everything,   can’t  hold  their  breath  for  more than  fifteen  seconds, watches  anime,  hasn’t  read  harry potter, can  say  ‘  i  love  you  ‘  in  more  than  one  language,   prefers mechanical  pencils,  thinks  space  is  cool,   takes personality tests  more  than  once  to  make  sure,   can’t  tie their  shoelaces, has  a  purse,   likes salads,   likes  cool  colors better  than  warm colors,   knows  how  to  braid  hair,  reads biographies,   can  ice skate,  knows  their  mbti,   reads  astrology charts,    prefers  the star  wars  prequels  to  the  original  trilogy,   plays  video  games,   reads  the  newspaper,   likes  chocolate  ice cream  best,    doesn’t cuss, memorizes  song  lyrics,  collects coupons, has  a  preferred order  at  starbucks, likes  movie theater  popcorn,  has  seen  a play,   listens  to  music  with headphones,   owns  a  hoodie,   would  rather  own  cds  than online  copies,  has  written  a poem (!!!),   can shuffle cards,    subscribes  to  a  magazine,  double dips  when  eating,  drinks  directly  out  of  the  milk  container,   keeps  a  journal.

While some of these are just headcanons, many of them are based on canon material too. ^^

Tagged by: @ask-cordelia-sakamaki

Tagging: whoever wants to do this :P

[meraki-yao]

I'm here once more to talk about RWRB fan culture difference :D

Okay so the thing is people in China can't access Prime, so they watch a "pirated" version on Bilibili, the closest Chinese platform to YouTube

And on most Chinese video platforms, including Bilibili, there's this thing called "bullet comments", which are comments that float across the screen as the scene is playing, so the audience can comment in real-time (according to my sister: 'it's like a twitch chat but instead of staying in the chatbox as god intended everything flies across the screen like a flock of deranged geese')

And it can be problematic at times, especially when people start an argument with bullet comments, as it is with idol culture-related videos

But for RWRB, for the most part, the bullet comments are civil

Now the fun thing is that you can get genuinely wonderful comments like these:

He was alone on an island, but then he came...

He swims toward the little prince, and since then the lonely island blossoms like spring, a neverending glorious summer.

The freeing wind of Texas breezed past the Atlantic Ocean, awakening the dying rose of the London Castle

"Idealistic" is good, we need "idealistic" works to show people another possibility

Statues tell the stories of a million lives, and they are an ordinary pair among them

But then you also have hilarities like these:

The entire pink circle is literally just feral screaming, 啊="AHHHHHH"

Ha, I put on my earphones

I'm overwhelmed by the gays

Poor security guard (Amy) Hahahahahaha

Alex: These Flowers are really flowery

Henry: OMG These books are so bookish

In moments of awkwardness, everyone will pretend they are really busy

I'm on the streets...What do I do

Wait! Who's the top! (yeah top or bottom is a.. weirdly strict thing in Chinese LGBT culture)

Remember to pull the curtain!!!!

Fuck Me Am I allowed to watch this?

I really like a quote from Bilibili audience's: "AHH???"

So when I watch stuff on Bilibili, I have to watch it twice: once for the actual video, and once for the *chef's kiss bullet comments that are either poems that I copied down onto my notebook or things that make me laugh until I choke

I really want to share more of these comments, but there are like thousands of them and certain things can't be translated into English. Maybe I'll go through it scene by scene and pick out some fun ones that I can translate?

[exo-raskreia]

Imma rant about Ichigo and Orihime cuz your blog has waken a outrageous fire in me!! And rightfully so! I agree with literally everything you said(btw Karin and hitsugaya are endgame for me too🤭🤭)

Ichihime makes literal sense and it genuinely sucks as a ship and i don't get why the shippers are satisfied with the results. I asked my friend who he wanted to be endgame and answered Ichigo and Orihime cuz they are a better fit. LITERALLY HOW?!! I didn't go psycho on him cuz if Ichigo and Rukia ain't your cup of tea then fine. But why are people answers automatically always Ichihime?? Is it cuz they are canon??? Where the hell was the build-up for it then?! It is nothing compare to ichigo/rukia or orihime with tatsuki/uryu. Idk if Kubo was trying to punk us by pairing them up or not. I feel like he didn't plan our their relationship properly! People say it was obvious from the beginning that ichigo likes her back but i sure as hell didn't see it! Maybe i'm just salty and refused to see the signs cuz Ichiruki is the best ship( and i had a crush on ichigo since forever soooo... 😖😖) ?? I've always been a rukia and ichigo fan rather cuz they actually had the chemistry and insane connection. I'm so mad that they weren't endgame. My girl Rukia was elite why didn't Ichigo went for her and vice versa?? Don't get me started on the poems, the speechs, the way ichigo always and always thinks of rukia. Like the ingredients for the cake was perfect, why the hell would you put gasoline in there💀💀

Some people say that cuz the show is shounen and not a romance, i shouldn't be upset about ichihime ending up together and not be mad of lack of their romance. I'm not expecting ichigo and orihime to have some epic EPIC love story or anything just make it more sense for ME at least. If Ichihime was some side-ship then i wouldn't care as much, but this is the MC of the show i want to see something greater than what we received! If they were to have a love story(ya know a real one) then they should've played it out like in Fruits basket

Ichigo and orihime actually remind me alot of kyo and tohru from fruits basket. And they're all very similar to think about it! Ichigo and Kyo: the grumpy orange haired protecters that have a heart of gold. Orihime and Tohru: the loveable sunshine character that are super traumatized but still manage to keep smiling. The only difference is that Kyo and Tohru actually have the emotional moments and had the chemistry and ya know they actually TALKED and were ACTUAL FRIENDS(as in kyo didn't treat tohru like a acquaintance) before dating. But since Orihime is so much like Ichigo's dead mom, their relationship would've been like Yuki and Tohru. I know the comparison might be dumb to do cuz they are very different anime and different genre but still!! Excuse me for caring so much about that my fav ain't canon. Yes this is a shounen anime but they could've at least squeezed in a bit of the love story of the mc to show they actually care about it. The MC of the show has a better and stronger bond with his bestie than his own wife. Like how is my girl Orihime not bothered by it?! Should've end up Tatsuku i swear. I mean they're literally Nana and Hachi!! 🍓🐶✨

I feel like orihime just exist to be his love interest and that's it! Girl had the potential to be a great character that ain't always there to be the love interest. Her becoming a housewife was insulting cuz what do you mean she ain't a robot destroying a city (i can't remember that scene from the earlier seasons but something in between those lines🤣) I do like Orihime enough but not that much cuz it's Ichigo this and Ichigo that. Like girl i get it. I wanted(and still do) him too but don't settle for being the second choice) HOMEGIRL YOU HAVE OTHER LUCKY DUCKS THAT WANNA BE WITH YOU!!

And another thing: I read somewhere that: just cuz Uryu had a crush Orihime that, that doesn't mean that Orihime should be together with him.... Okay then why can't that also imply to Ichigo and Orihime?? Like why just cuz "She'll fall for him in every lifetime" doesn't mean that he has to do the same too!! Rukia is already the queen of his heart mind you

BUT ANYWAYS!! It's a shounen after all so i shouldn't be expecting the mc to have a well-written love story and not to have high hopes of the MC love interest to be something more than that. But whatever at the end of the day they're CANON and have a kid together so all i can do is cry about it and live in fanfiction.

Ahem, I'm done with my rant thank you 😌 (And yes anti-IchiRuki fans I'll still be salty in my 40s cuz of the ending and I will never shut up about it just cuz they have canonically have kids)

No worries, anon! You've come to the right place! Let it all out~

Not surprised your male friend would choose Ori. Typical. For dudes like him, her appearance, superficial crush on Ichigo, & the word "canon" being slapped on are enough for them, despite there not being any actual chemistry between IH. It is also a common trope in other manga/anime, so they convince themselves that it was meant to happen, but it doesn't mean it makes sense for every story, especially not in Bleach's case; it doesn't make narrative sense if they actually looked into it.

(Canon ≠ good. Just look up what went wrong in 'How I Met Your Mother' or even 'Game Of Thrones' S8).

(While on the subject, since Rukia is a much better written character than Ori, if she had a body like Ori's, & Ori like Rukia's, even less dudes would care about IH 🫢, since they never even have good arguments in favor of it that aren't the 3 things I mentioned already up top).

Ichigo & Rukia had the most chemistry in the entire manga/anime, & it baffles me when people didn't/don't (wanna) see it. I went into Bleach almost blind when I first started watching it & IR really stood out. Their bond is right in your face, playing along the border between platonic & romantic, making you wonder what exactly it is, but knowing they aren't just mere friends. In the manga, I was constantly awed & amused by how borderline romantic it came off as, despite having already watched the anime (which did not do the manga justice in many ways; and then antis claim IR was mostly anime-based, PLEASE 🙄). Kubo really wasn't playing when it came to these 2. What a freakin' troll.

Haven't watched Fruits Basket, but I can see what you mean. Grumpy & Sunshine is a fun trope, however, as you said, IH just didn't have what it takes. If Kubo had wanted to, he could have properly developed IH at some points in the manga, such as the Fullbring arc, & it wouldn't have to be anything big, as Bleach is not a romance. He could have opened the arc with those 2 already going out, like them holding hands as they head to school or something, maybe showing some flashbacks of them talking things out, comforting each other since HM to show how they got together. Instead, in those 17 months since Ichigo lost his powers & contact with Rukia, you're telling me Kubo couldn't make IH bond? Instead, Ori's still pathetically pining after him while Ichigo is still thinking of, longing for, Rukia! How am I supposed to believe IH was meant to be endgame?!

Orihime had more chemistry with other people than the man she ended up with 💀. I personally ship her with 2 other men (Ishida & Ulquiorra). She was different with them. One selflessly cared for her, had her at the forefront of his mind in her own rescue arc (unlike Ichigo), while the other challenged her, found her fascinating & wanted to learn more... Not to mention they both protected her from Ichigo a couple times in the HM arc.

She really did have potential to be a great character but it all kept going down the drain, never achieved her dreams nor goals. She kept regressing as the story went on, especially when it came to Ichigo. She was never able to encourage him nor fully support him & was usually a complete damsel in his presence (he even seemed annoyed by her during the Ywach fight, which mind u, she was only there cuz there was no one else left & Ichigo had no choice?). She was more interesting whenever she wasn't around him. All her best moments were when she wasn't thinking about him. Saving Tatsuki? Bonding with Ishida in SS, standing in front of him to protect him in the Fullbring arc? Bonding with Ulquiorra (the only good thing she did the whole HM arc)? She could've done more in HM but didn't. In TYBW, she didn't do anything special, couldn't even encourage Ichigo & was treated like a ragdoll by Ywach. This is how Kubo wanted us to remember her. She was mostly reduced to fanservice by the end (and she's still not as popular as Matsumoto or Yoruichi in that department 💀). I sometimes think he didn't like her all that much with how he treated her character...

While watching the anime, I seriously had been hoping she'd get over Ichigo in the SS arc when she wistfully said Rukia was a very special person to him who changed his world (oh, boy, was I in for disappointment). Right off the bat, there was nothing interesting/exciting about her interactions with Ichigo (I was shipping her with Ishida by this point). He was just so blasé with her, I almost felt bad for her & it only kept getting worse. I then hoped she'd finally get over him after the traumatic experience at the dome in HM, but her ongoing silly crush made my eyes roll & lose hope in it. LIKE GIRL, HE'S HUNG UP ON ANOTHER GIRL, & U SHOULD'VE STOPPED PUTTING HIM ON A PEDESTAL BY NOW; HE'S NO PRINCE CHARMING & ESPECIALLY NOT FOR U WHEN HE BARELY GAVE U A SECOND THOUGHT IN UR OWN RESCUE ARC & ALMOST GOT U KILLED LIKE 3 TIMES & U HAD TO GET SAVED BY ULQUIORRA & ISHIDA, LIKE-

Orihime doesn't have anything in common with Masaki other than maybe their appearance (which imo, Masaki looks more like short-haired Matsumoto anyway?). Besides the cheerful part, their personalities are very different. Masaki was more like Rukia: brave, strong, selfless, teasing & annoying Isshin/Ichigo, etc... IR has actual dynamic parallels with IsshiMasa in the narrative... Kubo just copied IR moments, especially considering he wrote as he went... So, don't be fooled by those morons who go by appearance alone & even those weird lines in one of the novels (Oedipus complex anyone?) instead of the legitimate parallels between IR & IM shown in the manga, such as these:

What was going thru Kubo's head if he supposedly "intended" for IH to happen? Ichigo & Ori had more chemistry with other characters than with each other. Kubo went about this all wrong. Bleach not being a romance is no excuse for shoddily pairing up characters in the end. In a few scenes scattered throughout the manga, he could've implied them. Every time they interacted, their relationship should've progressed somehow. And he actually did this with IchiRuki. (In regards to Naruto, for example, Kishimoto at least admitted he didn't put enough effort into his ships by saying romance was not his forte & he's not good at writing female characters, but at least most of the ships made sense & esp NaruHina had actual good moments scattered throughout the manga...).

Sigh, I've said this before, but why can't more battle shounens be like Fairy Tail when it comes to developing the ships throughout the story? There'd be less drama. Even Gintama did a better job at developing the main ships, lol, that if they became canon, hardly anyone would've been surprised (they were somewhat implied if u squint, tho 🤪).

There are theories Kubo wanted to spite Shounen Jump for their treatment over the years so he ended things this way (and maybe to spite the fans too, since his manga sales had been on the decline for years). Ever heard of the "choosing unhappiness" theories? Basically, remember that Ywach said he'd come back at Ichigo's happiest moment? Well, he didn't come back at Ichigo's wedding with Ori, not even at the birth of his son. He came back when Ichigo reunited with RUKIA after 10 years.

So what could this be telling us? That Ichigo chose to be unhappy by not getting with the one person who made him the happiest. Rukia gave him that push by choosing unhappiness first (since she knew Ichigo couldn't make the first attempt to) & married Renji, who in turn, also gave Ichigo that push to go for Ori. IR chose unhappiness to defeat Ywach. Could this actually be what Urahara meant when he said he'd leave everything to "Kurosaki-san & Kuchiki-san" after his defeat in TYBW?! (we deserved the IR tag-team we never got in the final fight, screw Kubo)

One could also say his friends chose unhappiness to help too? Ishida becoming a doctor he'd never expressed interest in & seeming isolated from the friend group (maybe not agreeing with the farce they're all in), Chad becoming a boxer instead of using his fists to protect, Ori marrying a man who doesn't love her & she knows never will, Renji marrying a woman who doesn't love him & never will (and whom I think he doesn't love either? My view on that here)... Isshin is nowhere in sight, could it be he also doesn't wanna be a part of this farce in which his own son chose to marry a woman he doesn't love?

Still, everything about this ending is so wrong, makes no sense, a bunch of retcons too. Heck, remember the rebuilding of Sokyoku Hill in SS? Made Ichigo destroying it meaningless 🙄.

Anyway, I didn't mean for this post to be too long. There's so much to rant about lol. There's also so much to make fun of 👀. As I said in this post, IH was never popular & never will be. Kubo himself can't bring himself to give them content & his affiliates (like Shounen Jump, Studio Pierrot, etc.) can't be bothered either, as IH doesn't sell. Canon for almost 10 years & still no official couple/family arts nor merch 😂. If they end up getting thrown a bone in the future, the fact it took them that long would still be laughable.

In the end, it's best to ignore canon, its fans, & engage with what you like. It also doesn't hurt to sometimes make fun of Bleach's failures~ Kubo has made it so easy, can you blame us? 🤷‍♀️

Also, glad u like HitsuKarin as well 🤭. Would you believe it's my #1 Bleach OTP? I had brainrot for it a few years ago, like I literally scoured almost every bit of content that I could find, & while it's died down, I just know that if Kubo &/or his affiliates were to feed us HK content now, I'd eat it up like a starving dog-

Sorry for the late reply, anon! 😓 Been having brainrot for a different fandom, if u can guess

[thecohenpazo]

Reasons The Minecraft Movie Will Be Terrible:

*LIVE ACTION*

This is the first mistake Warner Brothers made. Minecraft is a game that is known best for being an open, desolate world, without human life to interact with. What little of the world is made for you is ruined and abandoned. To see people here is to discredit the heart and soul of this game, which is that there is no one. You make the rules, you create the story.

*VISUALS*

Not only did they pull 0 real textures, geometry, lighting, colors, world generation, *anything*, they made it look like one of those, "Minecraft Realistic TexturePacks". The lighting changes between different shots of the same scene. The creatures look nothing like the games.

*AUDIO*

Minecraft is not a loud, booming game. It's a quiet, lonely setting, where you explore and build to settle yourself into a world. The music is absent most times, and when it fades in it makes one feel like what you've done has meaning. When you find a music disc, suddenly you have control over the noise around. The ambience of cave noises scared you when you were younger. The iconic sounds of mining, placing blocks, ring out in the minds of half the world.

The protagonists, don't need to speak. In fact, it detracts from the story if they do. Steve could be anyone, he tells all of our story's. Put a voice in him, and now he's just Jack Black.

*PLOT*

-Jokes: Usuallly, in a trailer for a movie, the humor can be quite telling of the whole experience. If two of the only trailer worthy jokes are animals making funny sounds, what does that mean for the rest? Minecraft isn't a funny game. It can be, of course, but for the most part, it's about finding some semblance of self in a world of no one.

-Cast: Piglins, in recent years, have become a sort of mascot for Minecraft as an antagonist. However, we've had far better antagonists that fit with Minecraft's design much better. A quiet, taunting menace. One who's been here from the start; Herobrine. The spiders and skeletons and creepers and zombies. The loneliness of the big world. The claustrophobia of the caves. The friends we lost along the way.

-Characters: Not very long ago, there were but two characters in Minecraft: Steve and Alex. But now there is a whole slew of misfits to include. I think something key about all these characters is, none of them need a voice. You don't need a celebrity actor to play Steve (sorry Jack). You can just have him be, show his emotions by how he interacts with the world.

-The True Story Of Minecraft: It's quite simple really. It's whatever you make of it. Sure, there are puzzle pieces, ruins strewn about, audio in discs, a poem at the end of the game, but truly, there is no real end. When you decide you've done what you came to do, you log out, and that's that. A movie about a silent character, moving through a world empty of kinship, creating something beautiful that others may never see. Or a movie about a group of friends, working together to make a mark on the land. Whatever it may be, *that*, is Minecraft. Minecraft is a story built on common experiences. Remember breaking a painting over and over to get the one you want? Remember trying a million ways to craft things? Remember believing in herobrine, trying to summon him?

This movie is just a cheap cash grab, meant to capitalize of the youths inability to judge a quality movie, and a lack of understanding of what this game means.

Go fuck yourselves, Warner Bros.

If you want some good alternatives, check out DAWN - A Minecraft Fan Film from Skyminer, Minecraft Anime Opening from DinxieMintie, Minecraft From The Mobs Perspective from Jackson Field, and many more!

[racfoam]

A Killer’s Poem (WIP)

Summary: Harry met her husband in the library when she was twenty. He was an elderly gentleman named Tom, a retired university professor. Harry doesn't know her husband is a serial killer - the same one who carved the scar on her forehead and orphaned her - and when the police arrests him she says that must be wrong but all the evidence points otherwise...

These are only some scenes I wrote for the fic. Thanks to @loneamaryllis for providing some great lines! 💕💕❤️

Harry couldn't believe she was at the police station with Mr Lestrange, the lawyer whose number she found in the phonebook Tom gave her for emergencies. Having policemen drag her husband and cuff him while asking Harry if she was hurt — No, she was not, why were they cuffing Tom — and a detective calling Tom a “sick bastard” after he recognised Harry as the almost-victim of Lord Voldemort (a serial killer who was never caught). He’d pulled Harry away from Tom like Tom would hurt her, and told Tom, “You’re under arrest, Lord Voldemort.”

Harry thought the policemen had gone off the rails. Her husband was a man of poetry and prose, not of a dagger and a gun. He held books, not guns or knives. He was seventy-four, for God’s sake!

Harry insisted going with the policemen to the police station.

***

The police officers showed her the pictures of all the victims. They were all similar, young women with dark hair and lovely faces.

In the files of their eye colour, all of their eyes were green.

Harry tried not to tremble.

“It wasn't Tom.” she repeats, feeling like a broken record. Tom, who was seventy-four, grey-haired and grumpy in the mornings before his tea — or sex. Tom, who quoted all sorts of poems and literature to her. Tom, who took her to theatre and suffered through Titanic with her every time on the sofa, soothing her as she sobbed over Jack’s sad fate.

“I'm surprised he used his former name with you.” said the police officer, and Harry wanted to grab him and shake him, shout that Tom isn’t Voldemort, that Voldemort isn’t Tom. “But then again, you knew him by his alias, Voldemort.”

“It isn't Tom,” Harry spat.

The detective sighed. He walked back to the doors and whispered to one of his people, “Bring her to the screening room.”

The agent looked surprised. He glanced to Harry with worry.

“Sir, are you sure we should —”

“She deserves to see the real him. Now move it, Diggory.”

Liar. thought Harry acidly, glaring at the detective. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar.

***

Tom is on the other side of the glass. The detective is showing him the same photographs of the dead bodies — Voldemort’s victims.

“This isn’t being recorded.”

“I’m aware.” replied Tom coolly.

“You can be honest here. Why did you kill them?”

His smile was dark and menacing, sending terror down Harry’s spine.

In the light, his brown eyes turned red.

Red...

Harry remembered the red eyes vaguely, always waking up in a cold sweat, remembering the crimson red, their flames threatening to engulf her, destroy her...

“Because they weren’t her.”

“It means something different, that sentence, with you, doesn't it?” asked Detective Shacklebolt.

Tom smiled again — that terrifying smile.

Who is this? This can’t be Tom. This isn’t Tom.

“Yes, indeed,” murmured Tom silkily. “If I killed Harry, I would never feel that rush of victory again. It would be completely over. I killed them because they weren't her. They weren't her, so I could kill them, imagine it was Harry, for those precious moments... Without ever truly hurting Harry.”

Tom smiled gleefully, grinning wide.

“Wonderful, isn’t it?” he crowed.

***

“We’ve lost the evidence.”

“Lost?” asked Harry, cringing at the hoarseness of her voice. “What do you mean, lost?”

“We’re releasing your husband from custody at 9 am when the paperwork is done.” said Detective Kingsley; he sounded defeated. “Mr Lestrange is already here, filling out the paperwork. Your husband’s suing us, including for emotional abuse inflicted on you.”

Harry gulped. “I... I don’t want to sue —”

“Your husband’s suing, either way.” said Kingsley with a tired sigh. Harry could imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, Harry. But at least you know now.”

What was that worth now?

“He's sending Lestrange's brother to pick you up. He... how did he become so attached to you? He didn’t stop asking about you.”

Harry didn’t know.

***

“Does your stomach still hurt?” he asked. His old, slender, large, thin hand reached out to touch her.

Harry scooted away from its reach, like it was a spider about to gorge itself on her flesh.

Voldemort’s grey eyebrows furrowed. He brought his hand back to his side, but his eyes were dark, and his gaunt jaw tense, showing clear displeasure.

“I’ll go make you some tea.” he said. Before Harry could scoot away, he leant down — she flinched, closing her eyes, hoping the killing blow would be quick — and kissed her sweaty forehead.

He stood up from the edge of the bed and left, closing the doors behind himself.

Before Harry could stop them, she burst into tears, the salty trail rushing down her cheeks.

Nausea hit Harry again. Clenching her teeth, she moved her legs to the side, setting them on the floor.

Another bout of nausea hit Harry as she stood on uneasy legs. Feeling the bile rise up, gagging midway through the bathroom door, Harry collapsed against the bowl of the toilet and threw up.

Panting and shaking, Harry couldn’t help as another gag assaulted her, and she vomited into the toilet again.

Harry heard footsteps rushing up the stairs. She tried to get up, but only ended up on the bathroom rug again.

Her muscles felt weak, all her energy suddenly stolen from her by the bout of nausea.

Voldemort rushed into the room, nearly knocking the doors down from the force he opened them with. When he entered the bathroom, he looked insane.

Harry’s eyes fluttered close and opened again. The face of a murderer was replaced by an expression of concern.

By the time Harry realised he was touching her, it was too late to tell him to stop.

“It’s all right.” he said.

No it isn’t. thought Harry, but she didn't say anything, too busy catching her breath, too busy leaning back into his warmth on instinct, on habit.

Voldemort whispered comforts in her ear, and when Harry gagged again and threw up, he held her hair back. And when she collapsed back, all saliva and sobs and tears into his chest, he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, as well.

It felt like nothing changed. If she closed her eyes, she could call him Tom in her head again, and he’d be her wonderful, attentive husband.

Harry heard the water flush, and she felt dizzy, just like the spinning water. She felt hands cradle the back of her head and her knees, before she was being lifted up. She kept her eyes closed, focusing on the soothing smell of her husband’s cologne.

The plush, soft mattress was like paradise, and her head was placed on an upholstered pillow.

“Did those fools give you expired food?” hissed Voldemort. The sound of his cold, menacing voice broke the illusion.

Harry shook her head twice. “Didn’t eat anything...”

A hand pressed to her forehead. Grey eyebrows furrowed.

“No fever.” he said. “When did your stomachache start?”

“I dunno...” she slurred tiredly. She just wanted to sleep... “Two hours after I got to the police station. I threw up the first time there, too, but that was...”

After it sunk in you are my would-be-killer.

The silence stretching along made her more nauseous.

“I’ll call our doctor.” he said, bending down and kissing her on the forehead; his lips were warm, and she melted into the pillow. “Stay in bed. I’ll bring you a bowl if you need to throw up again.”

Harry found herself dozing off, aware yet not, finding a bowl cradled in her hands the next time of awareness, then their doctor’s voice murmuring as her temperature was taken, then the pulse, Voldemort’s fingers holding her hand...

A hand was caressing down her hair. Recognising it, Harry instinctually leaned into it. Tom was whispering her name, his silken voice bewitching her deeper into sleep.

“Wake up...”

Harry didn't want to. She felt nice and warm here, on the bed with Tom whispering gently to her...

“Harry.”

Harry opened her eyes. Tom was looking at her, his face stern.

“You need to go to the bathroom, darling.”

Blinking, sleep still weightening her eyes, Harry stared at her husband, wondering why he was telling her she needs to go to the bathroom.

“You need to take a pregnancy test.”

That woke Harry up. Her eyes shot open, stretching wide.

“Very funny.” said Harry, not finding it funny at all. “Taking the piss out of me after everything you did. Let me sleep.”

Harry turned away from him.

“I’m not joking.” said Voldemort behind her as Harry closed her eyes to go to sleep. “Everything is normal. It’s better to do it and remove the possibility of your nausea being caused by pregnancy. That way, we’ll know if it’s a stomach flu —”

“Leave me alone.” said Harry.

Harry could feel Voldemort's eyes boring into her skull. With a yawn, she said, “I’ll do it tomorrow. I’m tired.”

Harry felt Voldemort leave the bed, his weight disappearing from her side, taking his warmth with him. Harry’s eyes fluttered shut, and she fell back to sleep. Harry woke with another sense of nausea.

By the clock on the dresser, it was 7am. Voldemort’s side of the bed was used, but he was nowhere around.

Probably in the kitchen making breakfast.

Harry took a bit to wake up fully. When she did, she had to pee very badly, and decided to get it over with. She took the pregnancy test on the night table and went to the bathroom.

Twenty seconds later, she laid back on the bed and yawned, placing the pregnancy test stick on the night table.

When she next opened her eyes, two pink lines on the pregnancy stick were staring back at her.

A surge of panic hit her, and she shot up from the bed, grabbing the stick, then her glasses, because surely she was seeing double...

She wasn't. Two pink lines stared back at her, no matter how long she stared at them.

Harry felt a mad laugh of despair bubble up in her throat, but she forced it down. How was this her life?

In that moment, the doors opened.

Fuck. No time to hide it. No time to fake it.

Voldemort, carrying a tray with toast and strawberry jam, entered the room.

His eyes settled on the stick.

“What does it —”

Before he could finish, Harry launched the damned fucking stick at him — he could read it for himself, the damned bastard — and rushed to the bathroom, locking the doors.

[onceler12]

Introduction post!

I drew myself using my actual photo as reference so trust me, this is very accurate to how I'm looking irl. I'm also showing you my photo in this outfit (not this one used for reference) which is showing me and my pillow! On second photo is me and my guitar and I noticed that in movie is similar frame so I made comparison. I hope you like it!

As for introduction at first I should say that I'm 19 yrs old (20 on 1st October) and I'm extremaly similar to Once-ler, we have same personality and interests and this is very problematic to me because people are often thinking that I'm roleplaying when I'm just being myself so you should remember that this isn't roleplay and I'm desciribing my actual self!

So when you know it then ofc I want show you few examples of those similarities. First, I'm very interested in business, I have many ideas for my own businesses even if they are just dreams. I can be very passionate about that and talk so much about it. By example I was writing speech of opening of Thneed factory even if this business is just a dream but I'm just too passionate so I can't let my energy get wasted and I remaked lyrics to song ,,Everybody needs a Thneed" - I mostly changed uses and I done it because I love that business so I was thinking that maybe I should try make few Thneeds in real life and I sewn one but that was Thneed from random material for practice so it's not so good but it have shape just like in movie and I didn't saw any so-called Thneed in this shape before because indeed this shape is very difficult so probably I'm the first who actually did it.

Currently I'm struggling to find better material but when I would find it, I hope that I can make Thneed that is very close to this movie one! Also I'm very good at defending deforestation and telling why it's not that bad and telling about how business in movie could not get bankrupt even after cutting whole forest! I'm also aware than my mindset it's unique and that I can show others different perspective on those things.

I also very good at making pancakes and I'm eating them with marhsmallows and it was my idea because I know that's not common mix and I made it by myself (btw on one photo here there is small picture in photo frame in background which is me with plate of pancakes so you have proof) and baking - mostly cupcakes. I like drawing, writing books and I even wrote few poems but the most I like writing about things I'm passionate about. I love music and I'm learning to play on electric guitar but I can't play on it yet. I also love cats, I have three of them.

I really like movie ,,The Lorax" but when I would making it then of course I would make Thneed business better and bigger and it wouldn't get bankrupt! I also have some ideas of another companies which are involving Truffula trees and obviously there would be more scenes with Once-ler because he deserve it. Anyways this movie isn't making sense very often but this is environmental propaganda so what do you expecting? Like what's wrong with destroying just one forest? I have arguments that even shows Lorax as the villain (this is some example of my unique mindset because no way that I'd say that chopping trees is bad so I'm taking serious when defending this business) but I won't write my arguments here because I already wrote too much and I don't want to bore you (but when you are in fandom then you probably want to hear about it..?) so that's all for now!

If you are interested in meeting person like me and if you want to talk about business, Thneeds or something else related to movie then don't hesitate to interact with me, I'd be happy to met Once-ler fans!

[restlessmaknae]

silenced

After your best friend disappears and the government doesn’t want to help, lies are discovered and the truth slowly unveils itself as you see your art-rid country for the first time for what it truly is: a land of manipulation, lies and total control.

➳ Characters: Insurgents!Ateez x female!reader/you (best friend!Yeosang and subtly implied love interest!San)

➳ Genre: dystopian, action, the movement-inspired au

➳ Words: 10.2k

➳ Warning: mentions of blood, being shot, guns, protests, manipulation, brainwashing, bullying, corruption, being orphans

➳ Dedicated to: @lily-blue​. Have the happiest birthday, my dear! I’m so happy that we can celebrate this day together again ❤️

➳ Ateez taglist: @dat-town, @tranquilpetrichor​, @effulgentfireflies, @americanokisses​, @kuleo26​, @anime-lover-2020​, @wccycc​,  @littlestartonightsposts​,  @koishua​,  @squiishymeow​

“It’s a lie.”

Those were the last words of your father’s that you could remember. You faintly remembered the creases on his forehead, the sharpness of his jawline, the dark, almost midnight black shade of his eyes and the firmness of his grip before he let go. Had to let go, to be precise.

At least, you liked to think that it wasn’t an illusion, that he was real and not just a made-up version of your father in your head. However, sometimes you believed that this scene was just a reoccurring one in your dreams because according to the ones who had taken you in at the orphanage, you had been abandoned by your parents at the age of 4. The reason for that had been that your parents had been Insurgents, and couldn’t have cared less about a child. Insurgents were the ones called by the government who went against the most basic rule: no art in any form. No music, no dance, no paintings, no poems, nothing of that sort.

Since the Great War of Art when artists and art lovers had gone against the ruling party, leading to great losses including innocent people, the government had banned all forms of art, and did everything they could to detain any last piece of art and silence any hum that could be turned into a song. You could only see art pieces in history books, so that you would know what to look out for to tell the police, but music had long been gone from your country. It was said that art was a fabricated lie; that art pieces only contained misleading, anti-government messages and tainted the truth.

It was a disgrace to be the children of Insurgents, so you had been an outcast at the orphanage and no family had come to pick you up. It had been fine as long as the kids who had known what your parents were had been adopted, but the stigma still lived with you up to this day. There had been only one person who hadn’t cared about that, and that had been Kang Yeosang, a similarly abandoned child of Insurgents. He had come 2 years after you, and he had cried in a closet at nights, muffling his sobs, so that no one else could hear him, but you had, and that’s where your friendship had blossomed from: mutual understanding, shared pain and a sense of belonging.

You two had grown to become best friends as years had gone by, and after turning 18 with still no parents, you had joined the government’s adult orphan program which provided you with a shared flat with someone else - in your case, it was Yeosang - in exchange for you working for the government. You and Yeosang were both administrative specialists, though under different institutions, and had continued living together. Since your housing was taken care of, you had enough to live by and you believed that there was nothing more fulfilling than working for the government that took you under its wing despite who you were.

You believed that until one day, your best friend went missing, and even the government didn’t want to help you find him.

Each morning, you started work by listening to the government’s agenda which emphasised why art was toxic, how the government tried to protect you from the lies of art, and how you should always believe in yourself for you could do so much, the government would always be there to help you - to rid of pain, to erase the small cracks in your perfect world, to ease your worries.

However, when you went to report Yeosang missing after you hadn’t been able to reach him for two whole days, he hadn’t come home for the night and he hadn’t left behind anything, the officers didn’t want to help.

“There are no missing people in this country,” the officer told you sternly. His tone was professional, and you knew that you were using this tone while working because it was the guideline, but right now, his emotionless state bugged you. “Everyone has a direction, everyone has a plan, everyone belongs somewhere. If he did leave, he would come back sooner or later.”

“He didn’t tell me anything as to why he would leave, that’s why I’m worried,” you reasoned, keeping your voice stable. You didn’t want to cause a scene, but Yeosang’s disappearance moved something in your heart. He was the closest thing you had to family, and losing him after being an orphan all your life seemed like drowning yourself would be a less painful experience.

“I am sure he will come back. If he does not come back after a week, he has somewhere else to be. People come and go in our lives, that is part of how we grow,” he continued in a practised, calm manner, bobbing his head to emphasise his words.

You let out an aghast sigh in return, not being able to digest the fact that he would leave without saying anything. The flat was intact when you had gotten home the day before after work, so there could have been nothing as outrageous as someone breaking in or kidnapping him. Since the Great War of Art, crime had been nullified, so that could have happened only in the worst case scenario, and Yeosang was no one special - in the most positive way. Thus, rationally speaking, no one could have come to get him.

“Should there be anything else I could help you with, please, let me know. If not, would you be so kind as to let the queue move?” The officer dragged you out of your concerned thoughts and pointed at the line of people behind you. Most of them were probably here to report an Insurgent, pick up their newly printed official documents or register for one of the many exams the government held to help people enter the workplace or higher education.

“Sure. Thank you so much for your assistance!” You bowed out of respect, left your waiting number on the desk and walked away from the office, your heart still as heavy as it had been when you had walked in.

The government had to be right. It was always right, you shouldn’t have doubted them, doubted yourself. Maybe Yeosang had indeed needed to leave somewhere, but he had had a difficult time saying goodbye. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to make you sad, to cause pain. Here, people lived to make this place better and to make each other content. Not happy because happiness was fleeting, it was an illusion often portrayed by art that couldn’t be reached in real life, but content. Contentment ran the offices, the institutions, the systems, and contentment suppressed anger, fear and pain. Contentment was the reason crime was almost non-existent in your country.

At least, that’s what you had learned. That’s what you had been taught. That’s what you kept hearing each and every day by sitting through the government’s agenda before work.

However, there was a tiny voice in your head that told you that either Yeosang had gotten into trouble - maybe by the Insurgents, maybe by something that had caused a crack in the system - or he had indeed wanted to leave. If it had been the latter though, you couldn’t have believed that he had just left without a word, especially after the last conversation you had had with him.

“What would you do if you were free?” Yeosang had asked at the dinner table, over the plate of your government-assigned food. In order to keep people’s health in check, everyone was assigned their own diet and daily menu, picked up in the morning at work and aimed at leaving nothing behind at the end of the day. Your health was monitored monthly by your own set of doctors, and this system proved to elevate the overall wellness in your county, hence promising a longer life that didn’t need so much medication and so many hospital visits.

“What do you mean? We are free. We are out of the orphanage, having a flat, having a job and food on the table. What more could you want?” You had quirked an eyebrow at the boy, not accusing, merely curious. This was your definition of freedom. Wasn’t it his?

“I mean… if you could have any job and live anywhere, wouldn’t you want to do something else?”

“No, Yeosang. The government is working so hard for us to keep such a balanced system. I’m thankful that they’ve given us a new chance after being abandoned by our Insurgent parents,” you had reminded him in case he had forgotten. There had been something passing through his features, but you couldn’t have pinpointed what it had been. It had definitely not been contentment.

“You’re right,” he had said and proceeded to eat. You had left it at that, and asked him about his day at work instead.

It had been nothing out of the ordinary, but maybe that conversation should have meant that he had been indeed intending to leave? You couldn’t have understood the reason why, but you had trusted him that he had made the right decision, and so, you had given up on searching for him.

A few weeks had passed by since Yeosang’s disappearance, and you had convinced yourself that the officer had been right: he had left on his own accord and he was doing fine. Otherwise, you would have heard of him, right? Someone would have called you on his phone that was still unreachable.

Instead of worrying about him, you continued living your life how you had done prior to his disappearance. Working, eating, doing the household chores, sleeping and volunteering to tend to public gardens on the weekends. Listening to the news of the country’s cities becoming more and more prosperous, companies doing well and more people taking the workplace entry exams than a few months before made you a proud citizen. It was a good place to live in. It was where you belonged.

However, the next Monday when you went into work, something happened. The government’s agenda was interrupted. It was usually screened and you listened to it through earphones as well, so you could see and hear your leader as well as possible. This time though, the screen glitched and only jumbled words could be heard through your earphones.

As usual, people didn’t panic at first. You were told and trained to keep calm at all times, and this was no different. However, the more this continued, the more fidgety everyone became.

“Stay in your seats, please! I will look into the matter. I am sure it is just a system error,” the supervisor in the room noted with a rigid edge to his words, then left the room. Everyone became a bit more relaxed, and a lot of them put down their earphones.

However, you were frozen in place, not just by the situation itself but also by what you could hear through your earphones.

“It’s all a lie.”

It was a robotic voice, nothing like the voice you remembered from your memories (or dreams?), but it still struck you as if you had heard your father’s words.

“Do doubt yourself. At all times. The government isn’t here to protect you. It’s here to isolate you from the truth,” the voice continued, and the way it said the complete opposite of the government’s agenda troubled you. Who was this? What was going on? Was it the Insurgents’ doing? But the government said that they monitored them all the time, that they couldn’t disturb the public anymore… So just who was this? Why were they lying?

Despite the racing thoughts in your head, the voice continued.

“The movement is here. You should prepare yourself. Brace yourself to face the truth, and remember: doubt yourself. At all times. Doubt the government.”

The voice was cut off, and suddenly, the screens were replaced with images of art pieces in all kinds of shapes, sizes and colours. You could only wear dull colours - black, white and grey -, so to see art pieces like in those history books of yours in vivid, almost blinding colours made you feel uneasy. Then, you saw people moving in an odd way. It was as if they were possessed, doing the same thing at the same time with the same preciseness. Sounds could be heard too, but they were odd. It was as if they connected. As if there was a flow to them, and absentmindedly, your fingers tapped to the beat of the sound. Could it be music? You had never heard anything as disturbing as this before… Yet, you had never heard anything as touching as this before. It wasn’t even just contentment that you felt. It was something else, too. Something new.

The next sound that registered in you wasn’t coming from the screen or your earphones. It came from outside, and despite the supervisor telling you all to stay in your seats, people rushed to the windows and peeked out by pulling the curtains to the side.

“This can’t be happening,” you heard someone whisper, and as you stepped closer to the window, you realised what she meant: the flying drones that monitored the city at all times were up in flames and falling to the ground, hitting it with muffled sounds.

“Is it the Insurgents?”

“What are we supposed to do?”

“Are we safe?”

The panic that had been long gone from people’s voices since the stabilisation of the system was back, and you had this gripping feeling in your heart for it reminded you of how your father had sounded before he had let go of you in your memories. No. This couldn’t happen. This system was foolproof. There had to be an error, a human error, it couldn’t have been caused by the Insurgents.

However, in between the smoke and flames caused by the falling drones, you could see blue… Blue capes. Those… Those weren’t allowed. You could say that your eyes were playing tricks on you, but you were on the first floor, you could see it well for yourself. Those were blue ones.

In the next moment, one of those who wore the blue cape turned around and looked up. You felt the ground open up beneath you, the sight rendering you speechless. Your eyes must have been playing tricks on you. It couldn’t be… Yet…

It was Yeosang. It had to be. The same warm brown eyes, the same jet-black hair, the same softness to his cheeks, the same dimples hiding behind his lips. However, the confidence he wore was unfamiliar. Or maybe it wasn’t even confidence… but rage?

As he was about to turn back, you didn’t think twice. Even though you had been told to stay in your seat, you had already broken that instruction, and now Yeosang was there, and you just couldn’t let him go without an explanation. So you ran downstairs, out of the building, passing by people asking you to stay inside and stay calm, and ran after the figures in blue.

You coughed constantly through the smoke, and you needed your eyes to adjust to the grainy, hot air, but eventually, you caught up to one of the blue caped figures. However, when you tapped his shoulder and he turned around, he wasn’t Yeosang. These were more fierce eyes with a piercing stare and a darkness sitting in his features that was nothing like Yeosang’s.

On the other hand, when a piercing sound could be heard, you saw a figure falling to the ground, and as he fell back, the hood of his cape fell off and revealed Yeosang.

“No!” You heard yourself cry out even though it seemed unfamiliar - both the emotions in your voice and the high pitch of it. Instinctively, you crouched down to the struggling Yeosang whose hands were going to his bleeding leg.

The sight made you so confused. He had been shot. But by whom? Guns weren’t allowed to the public, only to the government. Why would they shoot him? While it was true that he was wearing blue, he was innocent. You didn’t know who these people were in the blue cape, but he couldn’t be one of the Insurgents. You had known him most of your life. He couldn’t have been one of them, so why had they just shot him?

“It’s okay. It didn’t go too deep,” Yeosang mumbled with a feeble smile as he looked up at you. You didn’t even remember the last time he had smiled at you like that, and it felt so wrong for him to smile at you in such a situation. The sight made you freeze in place. Maybe he wasn’t the Yeosang that you knew.

“We have to go, they are here,” someone behind you prompted, and helped Yeosang to his feet who was seemingly able to walk even though he was limping and he was wincing from the pain.

“There’s a hospital down the street, you should…”

“Do you think they would treat him at the hospital after shooting him?” The earlier boy with the piercing gaze asked, and you were so shocked by his statement that the words you were trying to say died on the tip of your tongue.

After that, it was a mess of screams and smoke and noises that seemed close yet far at the same time, and you were struggling to see well due to the little bursts of fire around and the continuously steaming smoke from the damaged drones. What you saw was nothing like you had ever seen on tv: this was similar to the pictures you had seen in your history books instead. This should have never happened, not just the fire, but the system glitch and of course Yeosang…

You were so conflicted as to what was going on that you couldn’t move. However, someone reached for your arms and started pulling you with them. When your eyes adjusted to your surroundings yet again, and you caught a flash of blue, you stopped.

You couldn’t go with them. It wasn’t right. This was violence. You weren’t a part of this. You had nothing to do with violence.

“Come on! You can get shot here,” a deep-voiced guy told you, and pulled on your arm.

“They won’t shoot me. I’m innocent.”

“Do you think they care at this rate? The moment they saw you crouch down to Yeosang, you became their target, too.”

“But I’m not one of you,” you insisted, still trying to keep your voice calm and void of any emotions even though what you were feeling now was far from contentment. No matter who they were, you weren’t like them. It wasn’t just the blue cape, but the fact that they were out here when everyone was told to keep inside. You should have listened to the supervisor. You had broken the instructions. You had doubted the government.

“They don’t care. Come on!” Yeosang winced as he said the words out loud, and it took another gunshot fired close to you to prompt you to follow them. Despite not knowing what they were or where they were going or why they had Yeosang, seeing the only person in your life who you would call family in pain because of someone who was shooting around here, you followed them. It didn’t feel like it was you though. You were too occupied by the guilt of breaking the supervisor’s order to care.

The place you ended up at was nothing like your government-assigned flat even though it looked like one from the outside. From the inside, it was muddy, no one seemed to take care of it well, and there was such a disarray of things - maps, pictures, newspapers and such - lying around that it unsettled you. Both the sight of it and the thought that you were close to anything as messy as this place. An order was set for a reason everywhere you went; it was to avoid chaos that led to the lack of contentment and that led to the lack of an organised, thriving, flawless system.

They were prepared with a first-aid kit though, so they could take care of Yeosang’s bruise while you were watching in silence, still trying to process what had just happened and matching the names that were thrown around to the faces around you. It was a bit like an out of body experience, so what happened around and what was said, it all seemed like it happened to someone else, not you.

“It seems they aren’t scared to use weapons in public anymore,” the orange-haired boy - Mingi - mused out loud as he was sitting in a chair, occasionally glancing in Yeosang’s direction and also yours. You had never seen anyone with dyed hair, but you doubted that it was his natural colour because the roots of his hair were still black. How did he even colour his hair?

Even though all of these boys looked at you suspiciously, they didn’t voice it out and carried on as if you had always been there. You had no idea whether that was because Yeosang had told them about you or because they were waiting for you to speak up, but you were still so confused about the recent events that your thoughts were more occupied by the questions that the things you had seen triggered in you than the expressions on their faces.

“There weren’t a lot of people around though. It still seems that the government is keeping them under control, and they listen to them,” the leader-like figure - Hongjoong - concluded as he was putting a dressing strip around Yeosang’s bruise. Hongjoong had said after examining it that if the bullet had gone deeper, Yeosang might not have survived because he would have lost too much blood and because the bullet had been too close to his kneecap. In this case though, the blood loss was manageable, yet he would need a few weeks of rest to avoid putting too much pressure on his injured leg.

“Not everyone though. I saw people picking up the leaflets we left behind,” Yunho - a boy with surprisingly soft features to his wide built - mentioned, and you wondered if you had seen leaflets before. Some papers had been flying around, but you had assumed that they had been from the streets in general. It seemed it had not been the case.

“Good. We’ve raised even more awareness, now it’s time to plan the next one,” San - the guy with the piercing gaze - announced as he glanced in your direction for a few seconds. Then, he averted his eyes to Yeosang’s features, and there was such an indescribable expression on his face that you had no idea what to think - what was he thinking? -, but your stomach twisted nevertheless.

“Easy, tiger,” Wooyoung chuckled as he threw his arm around San’s shoulders who casually shrugged him off. “I think we have something else to take care of first,” he added, and now all eyes were on you.

You were not used to the attention of so many people when you didn’t know their intentions. At the orphanage, people hadn’t cared after a while because you were the child of Insurgents. At work, you were just one of the many employees doing the same job, you were no one special. Right now though, you couldn’t decipher whether they were looking at you as if they had wanted you gone or as if they had planned on using you.

However, before anyone could speak up, the door opened from a nearby room and a boy with chestnut-brown hair walked out of it.

“All the cameras are taken care of. No traces are left behind,” he announced surprisingly beamingly, though when he caught sight of the big bandage around Yeosang’s bruise, his smile faded. “Now, that was not a part of the plan,” he hummed, looking a bit more concerned, but it was still subtle compared to the way his eyes widened when he saw you sitting between Yeosang and San. “Nor was she as far as I know,” he looked around, confused, and it took a bit of time on everyone’s part to recall the previous events in order to explain the situation.

“Oh, so you’re the girl from the orphanage Yeosang keeps talking about,” the guy put the pieces together after the explanation, and he spoke so lightly as if Yeosang hadn’t even been there with you. Now it made more sense though why everyone acted so casually around you - Yeosang had talked about you to them. So why had he left without saying anything? “I’m Jongho, by the way.”

You didn’t see a reason to introduce yourself since everyone had already known who you were, so you kept quiet. Not that Jongho seemed to mind because he casually plopped down on one of the unoccupied chairs and bore the silence that weighed on all of you before Yeosang decided to break it.

“Why did you run out of the building back there?”

His question was very much reasonable for you had gone against what had been asked of you. However, as he was looking at you like that - like the person you had grown up with -, you were tormented just yet again if it had been worth it. How had he ended up here with these guys?

“Because I saw you, and you left without saying anything, and I just felt like… I have to see you,” your voice came out hoarse, and you were quieter than you had intended, but there was no judgement in Yeosang’s eyes, there had never been.

“Weren’t you told to stay inside?” Seonghwa mused out loud, and despite his neutral tone, you felt something light up inside of you. It’s not that you had been dragged here against your own will because you hadn’t; you had actually escaped with them because upon the severity of the situation - Yeosang being shot -, you had feared of something happening to you as well. You had never been afraid of death for it was a natural part of life, but in the midst of smoke and fire and the sound of gunshots, something in you had been switched on.

They might have been right; out there the government couldn’t have known that you were innocent. On the other hand, you weren’t even that innocent at all. After all, it seemed that Yeosang had gotten into trouble, and even though these boys might not have been Insurgents, they were surely rebels. Rebels that you should have never ever crossed paths with.

“I was, and now seeing what you’re doing, I regret it. I should go and turn myself in for breaking an order.”

“You did the right thing.”

“What?” You shrieked upon San’s compliment. You couldn’t even take it as a compliment for it was all too wrong to have done something like this. “What I did was outrageous.”

“It was brave. Brave because your feelings for a lost friend were stronger than the brainwashing you had been through, and this is exactly what we need,” he continued, keeping the eye-contact with you, and no matter the fact that Yeosang was on your other side, you couldn’t avert your eyes to look for assurance in your best friend’s eyes because the way San looked at you was pinning you to the ground.

However, the term ‘brainwashing’ triggered something in you, and you bolted to your feet. You hadn’t been brainwashed. It was them who were in the wrong. You couldn’t stay here. It was dangerous. They were dangerous. They were against the government who had raised you.

“No matter what your intentions are, don’t count on me. I’ll leave and tell them about what I’ve done, what you’ve done and…” You warned them as you started walking towards the door you had entered through. You were already reaching for the doorknob when Yeosang’s voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Do you know how your parents really died?”

You turned around, your response automatic. It was a reply you had prepared for anyone asking, and Yeosang should have known better than anyone. You didn’t even see the point in answering, but you did nevertheless.

“They were taken away by the government because they were Insurgents, so I suppose they died afterwards.”

“They were executed for saying the truth, for standing up for themselves. I know you won’t believe me, but you will believe this,” he counter-attacked as he turned to Mingi and told him something about a footage of a particular day. Mingi was searching for the tape for a bit, but then, he put it into the player and the lifeless TV screen came to life, showing people marching down the streets.

You had only seen such a scene in history books, but those were black-and-white, and to see the actual colours made you feel nauseous. People actually wore colourful clothes. People had colourful hair. They had paintings in their hands and they were singing - or at least you guessed so because it wasn’t like talking. It was rhythmic, it was powerful and it was undoubtedly beautiful. The way all those different voices became one. As opposed to the pictures in your books, they were peaceful. No one shouted over the other, no one pushed the other. They were just marching.

“It was taken on the day you said you had been taken to the orphanage. There was a mass protest, and if I’m not mistaken, you’re also there,” Yeosang woke you up from your stupor, and rendered you speechless.

No matter how much you would try to deny, he was right. As the camera zoomed in on the people, you saw him. Your father from your memories. He was holding the hand of a woman and a little girl. You.

You three were content, and you too, you were singing along with them. The way you looked at each other was loving, and seeing the woman by his side - your mother, you could only guess - made your heart churn. You looked so joyful. You had never seen others around you so free, so happy. Yes. Not just content but happy.

Then, gunshots were heard and the idyllic moment was interrupted, panic rose from the rows of people around. The camera zoomed out to show massive cars making a way through the crowd and shooting. Screams and cries could be heard. Groups of people were torn apart. Bloodspots started painting the ground.

“No. This must be manipulated,” you whispered in confusion, looking at the boys around you one by one, but all of their faces were calm as if they had already made peace with the fact that it was true. “Where did you get this?”

“From a neighbouring country’s TV channel,” Jongho explained sternly, and you furrowed your eyebrows.

“But it’s illegal to stream the neighbouring countries’ TV channels.”

“Why do you think that is illegal?” Seonghwa raised an eyebrow challengingly, but before you could answer, he continued. “Because the government doesn’t want you to see the truth. The truth about what happened even before the Great War of Art, the truth about how we’re actually stuck here and other countries around us are thriving, the truth about what art truly means to people.”

The more he talked, the more confused you were. While it was true that it was illegal to stream the neighbouring countries’ TV channels and to travel beyond borders for that matter, you believed that it was because this is what everyone else did. This is what was the norm. However, when Mingi switched to an actual news report about your own country, portraying the employees sitting through the agenda each morning, people walking down the streets void of colours and such, you were totally speechless.

“I don’t understand. Then, why do others know about this and don’t do anything?”

“For the same reason you’re not leaving this country and you rather believe in the government. Because they fear the government here. Because they see what happened to people who were trying to fight for democracy, and because just by having these footages, they are also risking their lives,” Hongjoong elaborated patiently, but you felt like the room around you was spinning.

It was just too much, too much to take in when what you saw on the screen and what you had been told were complete opposites. Then there was the picture of your parents and little you engraved into your head, and suddenly, your father’s words of it being a lie made so much more sense. You had probably been taken away from them during this protest, and that’s how you had ended up at the orphanage on this given day. Still, the fact that the version of your father in your memories was actually real and not just a dream made your stomach drop.

“We’ll give you some time alone now,” Hongjoong broke the tense silence that fell upon the nine of you, and prompted the boys to follow him to the room Jongho had come from. You watched them leave, except Yeosang, still unable to form coherent words, and burst into tears only when the door closed behind them.

You had so many questions - too many questions -, and it was just too much at once. The last few hours from the organised system error, Yeosang being shot, the escape from the chaos on the streets, the footage of your parents and you and everything the boys had said seemed so unbelievable, yet your eyes couldn’t betray you. The missing holes in the government’s messages about the neighbouring countries, the restriction on travel, the intention behind art pieces, the way they had shrugged off a missing person’s whereabouts all seemed to come together, but still, it was difficult to see everything through a new lens; a lens that had been said was wrong.

So may your tears be because of the absurdity of the situation or the fact that you could see your parents for yourself and realise that the scene in your head with your father was actually true and not just an illusion or a dream, but Yeosang didn’t say a thing about them. Even when you apologised because crying was a sign of discontentment and in your country, everyone was supposed to be content, he told you that you were allowed to cry, at least here, with him you were.

“How long have you known about this?”

This meant a lot of things in your case: the footage with you and your parents, the government’s wrongdoings, the truth behind Insurgent family members dying… However, Yeosang was patient enough to tell you everything. Since he had been a bit older when he had gotten to the orphanage and he had come a year after the Great War of Art, he told you that he remembered snippets of music at home, of his mother singing to him at nights and his father keeping some paintings in their basement. They had tried to live a double life - still making art while complying with the government’s regulations -, but they had gotten caught, and that’s how he had been separated from his parents. The government had tried to manipulate him into thinking that it hadn’t happened that way, but he still remembered, and that’s why he had been crying so much at nights - because the memories with his parents didn’t align with what the staff at the orphanage had tried to tell him.

So deep down he had always known, but the trauma of a child watching how his parents are forcefully separated from him and then never seeing them again lingered with him, and he had kept his mouth shut. Until he had met Hongjoong by chance, and after that, he had kept meeting the group, and decided to leave his life behind once and for all - knowing the consequences all too well.

You didn’t need to ask why he hadn’t told you about this beforehand; you knew that you might have even reported him for being an Insurgent a few hours ago, but the recent events had shaken you enough to be cautious. He also briefly talked about others’ stories - how Hongjoong was actually one of those who made drones for the government, hence he knew how to attack them as well; how Jongho got to the databases through Yeosang’s access to the government sites; how Mingi’s parents had moved abroad illegally after the Great War of Art when he had been really young, but he had come back to join The Movement here to open people’s eyes to the brainwashing -, but it was still a bit unbelievable to you.

“What’s The Movement?” You inquired at this point, though you faintly recalled that you had heard of it when they had hacked the agenda video.

“The Movement is what we’re doing, what we’re planning. Ultimately, we want to show people the truth, but the only way we can do that without violence is through actions like we did today. We attacked the drones and not people because we didn’t want to hurt anyone in the meantime,” he explained confidently, and this was such a new side of him. Yeosang was usually quiet, reserved and shy, but he had a certain - different - aura around him this time.

“But then why did they shoot you today in broad daylight?”

“I think they’re sensing that we are powerful enough to do something like this, so they also have more powerful responses. Plus, it’s not like they would show it on TV, or the ones witnessing the scene from the nearby buildings would believe that it’s for anything but their protection,” he elaborated bitterly, but you had to give it to him that he was right. A few hours ago, you would have thought the same.

“Is it safe to be here then? Can’t they track us all the way here?” You blurted out as it dawned on you just how casual they were being here. As if no one could have caught them.

“It’s a building of Seonghwa’s father’s. His father is a government official, and Seonghwa uses the upper floors as his flat. We use the basement as the base of our group, otherwise, his father thinks he uses it as a storage. No one would suspect anything because Seonghwa’s father trusts him and because there are no cameras, no drones here. The privilege of being a government official’s son.”

There was no malice in his words this time, though you could sense that it was more out of respect towards his friend than anything else. It was also very eye-opening to you that there were so many of them actually working for the government or being close to the core of the government and still getting through with The Movement. Just how blind everyone else was - including you - that they couldn’t see the signs, yet these boys could?

You couldn’t ask more because the door of the nearby room opened and Seonghwa walked out of it as if he had heard that you had been talking about him. As opposed to that though, he merely announced:

“I’m going to make dinner. Don’t mind me,” he said as he walked across the room to get to a door that led to a stairway. Oh, so that was how he could move between the floors inside. You remembered getting to this part of the house through a door that was at the end of a downward slope and under some bushes. Very smart, you had to give it to him.

Before you could ask, Yeosang explained that since Seonghwa’s father was influential, he didn’t need to follow his government-assigned meal plan strictly. He could buy as much food as he wanted and make as much food as he wanted given that he still went for the medical check-ups.

“Are you done, lovebirds? Can we get out of here now?” Wooyoung poked his head out of the nearby room, and you had no idea what to do with the implication. On the other hand, Yeosang just laughed at his friend, and it was such a foreign yet warming feeling that you were struck. He reminded you so much of your younger self in the footage that it hurt; was it worthy on the government’s part to create a world void of laughter in exchange for total control? That was when it struck you yet again just how badly you had been brainwashed into thinking that this was the way to live - void of laughter, happiness, art, colours.

“If you’re comfortable with having them around,” Yeosang turned to you, his eyes carrying worry. You still felt a bit numb to everything that was happening around you, so you didn’t actually have any feelings - neither negative, nor positive - to hold onto, so you nodded.

Afterwards, something that you thought couldn’t happen actually happened: you felt comfortable around these boys. They were laughing and joking around, sharing stories, stealing food from each other without actually getting angry and making sure that you felt involved despite not pushing you out of your comfort zone. Seonghwa’s cooking was also excellent, you didn’t even remember if you had ever eaten something so flavourful and truthfully, after the events, you were quite hungry.

You still didn’t trust them fully and you were still shaken up, but they helped you plan ahead because just like Yeosang had been on a secret wanted list that Jongho had discovered ever since his disappearance, you had also made your appearance on that list after today.

“So either you stay here with us and don’t go out there again because they might be coming for you. Or you can act as if we had kidnapped you and still say that you don’t know where our base is because you couldn’t see it well and start a new life. If you feel more comfortable with the latter, we might not be able to protect you as much as we could if you decided to stay with us,” Hongjoong mapped out the possibilities, and there was no point in disagreeing with him.

After all, he was right: you had gone after them, you had gone against what the supervisor had told you, and it seemed that you were on their list that they hadn’t told you about when you had been searching for Yeosang. Alas, you had been the stupid one to ask for their help, though you hadn’t known better back then.

So you decided to stay for a night at least, but little did you know, it was more difficult to fall asleep than you would have thought so.

After tossing and turning on the mattress they had provided for you for some time, you decided to leave the room and not disturb the others. You were in a room with Yeosang, Hongjoong and Jongho while Wooyoung, San, Yunho, Mingi were in another one, and Yeosang saw it more fit if you stayed beside him (and away from Wooyoung who kept calling you two lovebirds). Seonghwa had also offered to let you sleep in his bed on the upper floors, but that would have been more uncomfortable than this.

The two rooms were neater than the main lounge area with the maps and all, everyone had their own mattress and bedlinen, clothes were semi-organised on the shelves and all the boys had a part of the drawers, so they could store their stuff there. Since you had arrived with basically nothing, not even your phone or your bag, you didn’t have anything to put away, and you could sleep in a change of clothes only because Seonghwa landed you some of his oversized clothes that were clean and smelled of lavender, and since his house was fully-equipped, there was everything for you to wash up properly and all. He also seemed to have a spare one for every item.

You tried to walk out of the room quietly, making sure to close the door behind you with as little noise as possible. Then, you made your way to the couch in the lounge area, and almost sat down on it, but through the dim-light from the nearby lamp that was on, you noticed a figure already there and almost tripped as you took a few steps back. The figure reached for your wrist and steadied you as he rose from his seat.

“Are you okay?” San inquired gently, and since he couldn’t see that you nodded, you mumbled a quiet yes in return. The boy let go of your wrist as soon as he heard your answer, but before you could take that as an offence, he actually turned the nearby lamp to a brighter level, so you could see his features better, not just his outline.

He kept his eyes on you while your eyes were adjusting to the light and your surroundings, then moved to the end of the couch, indicating that you could sit down beside him. You tilted your head, pondering about what he was doing here at this hour, but decided to ask about it while contemplating whether to go back or stay here.

“Are you sleeping here?”

“No. I can’t sleep, so I came out here to let my thoughts race,” he answered genuinely, his voice coming out hoarse. The piercing gaze he had given you the first time your eyes had met was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he seemed a lot more vulnerable and weary. There was a certain degree of softness to his features, yet, there was firmness in them - a growing boy shedding his adolescent self while his more mature features were coming through at the same time. Maybe it’s because of the severity of the recent events, but it surprised you how young he was, and well, how young they all were.

You bobbed your head, taking in his answer as you sat down beside him. Even though you were practically strangers, there was just something comforting about him - about the way he had caught you just a minute ago and how he had just sat there, thinking.

So even when he asked about your reason for occupying the lounge room, you didn’t take it as anything more than genuine curiosity. Despite the fact that you were still fighting with the thought of everything being a lie, you couldn’t deny that they had been looking out for you ever since you had run out of that building.

“I can’t sleep either. Yesterday’s been… a lot,” you concluded quite briefly, though there was so much more you could have added. It was just that you were so used to not complaining since it was seen as a sign of discontentment and that was something the government was trying to suppress, you would have felt guilty for going on about your feelings.

Instead, you let silence take over the two of you, covering you with serenity and empathy. San didn’t push you for more answers, nor did he want to ask you about anything else. Instead, he started talking about himself in hopes of making you feel more comforted (you could only guess).

“I can understand that. I was like that once. When I met Hongjoong, I was angry and wanted to give him up even though he saved me when my classmates bullied me,” he admitted with a resigned sigh, but you furrowed your eyebrows in question.

“But bullying is illegal…”

“Not if you’re the son of a government official, and they were,” he pointed out with gritted teeth, his bitter memories dripping off his words. There was so much rawness in his voice and in the way his shoulders tensed as if he was recalling those days, ready to fight back, that you had no reason to doubt him. Bullying was a serious issue, something that was severely punished by law, but if the children of government officials had targeted him, it seemed that they could have easily gotten away with it. You could have easily questioned San, but seeing how Seonghwa hadn’t been caught hiding his group of friends in his basement, you could believe that it was true.

“My parents were once rich too, but they had to turn their art academy into a general study academy due to the war. That was still not enough for the kids to not pick on me even though my parents had never brought up anything art-related since. And kids can be cruel, it’s just that the government doesn’t want you to see the ugly side of schools. My parents also told me to keep quiet. When I didn’t, the next thing I knew was that the academy was gone and so were my parents. No goodbye, no letter, nothing, they just disappeared.”

One could have said that the boy’s words were cold, but you could see those microexpressions that gave him away - the frown deepening on his face, the way his lips twitched at the mention of his parents, his eyes taking on an even darker, deeper shade and his shoulders not easing up.

“And the government didn’t want to help, right?” You could only guess based on your experience, and the boy didn’t even disagree. Which just made everything even more heart-breaking.

“No. They’ve said I was better off without them and put me up for adoption. That was just one more reason for the kids to bully me, and that’s when I met Hongjoong.”

You didn’t know whether you had any right to ask about his life, but he didn’t seem to mind doing so. It was really difficult for you to accept that someone could be so open about his struggles like him because not even Yeosang had shared about his concerns as he knew that you wouldn’t have believed him, and in your society, talking about your struggles was seen as bashing the system. If there was something wrong with you, it had to be because the government-assigned diets didn’t work or the work system wasn’t successful enough or such, and so people didn’t complain or vent or anything of the sort.

However odd it was, it dawned on you that you didn’t mind listening to his story. It gave you a better picture of what kind of backgrounds these boys had.

“So did you grow up with him?” You mused out loud, not exactly knowing where this fit into his timeline with the others.

“Sort of. It’s not on paper, and he’s only a year older than me, but I did. No family adopted me, but Hongjoong always came by my school to check on me and he also showed me how to fight, how to make stuff and fix objects.”

In a way, it was like how you and Yeosang had found each other despite not being blood-related. It seemed that the children of Insurgents or those who had been wronged by the system somehow found each other. You just had a difficult time believing that it had taken you so much time to see the truth for yourself and believe it.

On the other hand, San didn’t bash you or comment on your past. If anything, his words were comforting and his stories helped you have a better understanding of the boys and how they were working on The Movement. The Movement was a nation-wide chain of organised events with the aim of showing the truth to the public. There had been other instances not just in your city but across the whole country as well, but just like you had never seen anything bad reported on TV or news sources, you hadn’t heard of it before. The previous day would probably not make it into the news either. However, the boys knew that they were growing stronger and stronger because more and more people were searching for the truth, showing up at their events and joining them.

These events were connected, and usually, they left behind clues about the next one - where it would take place and when -, but a lot of times they were merely putting on banners from afar or destroyed drones like today - which could be done from the privacy of Seonghwa’s house just like the day before. However, to make sure that the clues were left behind, some of the boys always went out in their capes. Since Jongho took care of the cameras and drones, their faces couldn’t be seen either, but it was their symbol nevertheless.

The thing was, the government scarcely could prepare for their attacks because just like you had been told earlier, no one would have suspected Hongjoong who was working on the drones for the government, Jongho who was monitoring the system security or Seonghwa who was a government official’s son. There were many others like them scattered around the country, and it was almost ironically easy to destroy the system from within this way.

That night though, you merely took these stories and connections with you to sleep, you didn’t act yourself. However, that seed of rebellion was planted in your heart.

During the next few days, you were still torn over the things you had known (or you thought you had known) and the contrast with reality. Your emotions were all over the place as well, and it was so unlike you to act so troubled that you felt guilty. However, the boys were understanding and patient as they knew that it was part of the process of coming face-to-face with what was going on in your country. So they didn’t take it to heart when you were throwing accusing sentences at them and they didn’t get fed up with your sudden outbursts. If anything, their support throughout this period showed you just how well they knew this feeling, and it showed you that here, with them, you could be yourself with all your different sides and many different feelings.

They were also working on finalising The Movement and its upcoming events. You learned that there were so many groups of Insurgents scattered around the country, and they were using their own phone line to communicate - perks of having someone work with them who knew such things -, so they always knew what was going on in other parts of the country because otherwise, they would have no idea. That was just what the government wanted though.

For instance, Bang Chan and his group of Insurgents were planning on interfering with the public transport a few days later, and they were in your city as well. However, in other cities, there was Keeho and his group who were about to screen some real footage from the past on bridges and at traffic lights where usually traffic information was shown, Sihyeon and her group were about to disrupt the monthly public service exam where usually hundreds of people take part whereas Chaewon and some other girls were testing out displays close to the border that would connect to the nearby country’s TV channels and show what they were screening about your own country. There were all kinds of events going on, you just wished every one of them would go according to plan and they wouldn’t end up in any casualties.

Now that you saw everything from a very different point of view, you could put the pieces together, and realise that having been rid of art, colours and all sorts of freedom of expression - let it be your clothes, your diet, your hair or the way you live - was so that the government could have a better control over the people. Since discontentment was seen as something bad, people feared speaking up even though they might have been struggling or wanted to have a better tomorrow - just like the boys around you and the groups of Insurgents around the country.

“Are you sure you want to be a part of it?” Yeosang asked the day before you were about to join them on their upcoming protest where they would use footage to show government officials’ houses, bullying scenes at school and higher-ups threatening their employees - something that could only happen because these were areas without cameras. However, Hongjoong had directed minuscule flying cameras to these places to record what was going on. They would show these on billboards because it was very likely that they would make citizens angry or at least frustrated as to what was going on.

“Yes,” you bobbed your head, your decision in joining them more firm than ever. You had felt so wrong for how oblivious you had been - for understandable reasons - and for being a puppet to the government when people were rid of their freedom, their money, their dignity and their life around you just because they knew what was the truth.

“It’s unlikely that anyone will notice you, but stick to San. He will help you out should there be any disturbances,” he advised gently, and you let your lips curl upwards. Yeosang had never stopped worrying about you since the day you had run after him and even before, he had been worried that you might end up getting hurt because of his disappearance. However, he had felt like he needed to leave because that was the only way he could be true to himself, and it was best if he hadn’t dragged you into this.

On the other hand, you had stayed on your own accord, and so, he had done his part to look out for you despite still limping and needing rest. All of them did look out for you actually, and more often than not, you found yourself having conversations at night with San who seemed likely to have trouble sleeping for he had too many worried thoughts. Due to his traumatic past, you couldn’t blame him. He had always been shamed for who he was, and just like you, he had been brainwashed into thinking that his parents were terrible people, and that he should have been glad that the government hadn’t disregarded him. 

So you trusted San and that he would watch over you because Yeosang had been the one going out with him, but he couldn’t do so now due to his leg. They didn’t even ask you to take his place, but you wanted to. You wanted to do something. 

“I know,” you mumbled to Yeosang, glancing in San’s direction who was currently listening to Wooyoung’s whining regarding the T-shirt that had shrunk in Seonghwa’s washing machine. You had no doubt that San would protect you - he had the built for it and he also had the determination -, but it felt odd actually being under his watch. It was odd and unfamiliar, but not in a negative way.

You were ready for this, and now more than ever, you felt like this was the right thing to do.

In a world where there were no vivid colours, it was like seeing the sunrise for the first time when they were slowly re-introduced, the palette spectrum growing wider and wider.

In a world where there could not be anything but contentment, joy, sorrow, disappointment, excitement and curiosity made their way into people’s every-day life, re-colouring their emotions.

In a world where the rich could do anything and the poor were looked down on even for whose children they were, the right social system had to be introduced, treating everyone as equal, and helping the less fortunate.

In a world where art was suppressed, hearing San’s lullabies at night was like a gift of its own, a treasure passed down from mother to son and then onto the other loved ones.

In a world where everyone was put into boxes, where you couldn’t be yourself, where you couldn’t express yourself, the freedom of finally being accepted and even cherished for your uniqueness was unfamiliar, a little scary, but ultimately, something that you would never take for granted again.

Because a new world has to come to erase all the pain, suppression and manipulation, but alas, the past couldn’t be undone, yet the hope for a new and better tomorrow was still there. In unity, in freedom, in love.

Soon, the expression ‘Insurgents’ was celebrated, not punished. Soon, you could be all free. Through months and years of constantly growing efforts, a new world came, and you, you were a part of making it come true.

This was what The Movement was all about.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading the story! It means a lot to me.❤️

If you want to read more stories of mine, let it be for Ateez or for other artists, consider signing up for my taglist here.

Have a lovely day/night!

[thatonegeekygirl]

hey aurora, i was just thinking about how you write poetry and i was wondering if there were any poems you possibly wanted to share? 🫶

i have only read one of your poems and i apsolutely LOVED it, so i was just thinking about how many other beautiful pieces you have likely written! you are so very talented! 💛

aly this is so sweet thank you <3 and yes i do indeed! here are a couple of my favourites (i write mostly freeform poetry so there's a lotta that):

Hey, Kid, Come Home

Hey, kid, there’s a world out here. Beyond your four walls painted gray, gray, gray like the clouds on the coast, boxing you in gerbil-like. There are posters on your walls that shout pain in your face but the people that made them don’t know the first thing about pain, and you do, I know you do. Those blinds that you pull so tight to block out the sunbeams that are trying their damndest to filter inside, and kiss your cheek, and remind you of good things—cause there are good things, despite it all. 

Your apartment is too small to contain all that you are. It's crushing you, crushing you like a ribcage too small for its lungs, forcing sweet air out. Suffocating. Everything crumbles to nothing eventually, and you’ve watched it. 

Hey, kid, it's hard, don’t let them tell you it isn’t. But it's not impossible. And there’s love pushing back the darkness, it’s real and it’s strong, and it’s fighting alongside hope to give you the power to take a step, and another. Kid, I know it, because I love you, and I hope for you. Open the door. Breathe, deep and full, and smell the smells of the trees and the clouds and the people. Let me hold your eyes in mine, and speak things words could never say. 

You will find that for every ounce of pain, there are two of joy. There’s a smile in there with you, but you hold it in cause how could you smile after you’ve lost all that you once smiled for? Unlock its prison anyway. It doesn’t belong in solitude any more than you do. 

Remember that life is here to stay, that the birds still sing, and the Earth still turns. Remember laughter and touch, clumsy music and butterflies and mountains. It is never too late to live, never too late to reclaim who you were. Heck, we all get lost sometimes. That’s being human. 

And hey, kid? 

We’re waiting for you. 

The Day My Heart Shattered

The day my heart shattered 

it was sunny 

everywhere but the little room we shared. 

It was dark, there. 

Dark as she reached into my chest, 

and grasped with steely fingers my heart. and wrenched it from its place within me 

and raised it above her head 

and dropped it. 

Hitting the marble floor at our feet, 

it broke. 

Not a clean break, 

two pieces easily fused together 

with glue and stubbornness. 

No, it didn’t break the way hearts do in the movies. 

It shattered. 

All bitter fragments and fierce edges 

whispers of form, 

torturing, 

implying at a wholeness that did not exist.

I collapsed by my fractured heart 

and reached a shaking hand out. 

Unbelieving, numb,

I drew a shard from the mess, 

cradled it in my palm, 

and it bit angrily into my skin. 

A line of crimson rose from within. 

I stared as blood welled and dripped, 

rivulets of warm redness staining everything. 

My thumb 

my knees 

my white dress 

The shard, still clutched in pale fingers. 

Breath was stolen from my brittle lungs.

All thought was smothered in quiet anguish. 

The warmth in my limbs stuttered and turned to ice. 

It felt like death, losing my heart. 

Worse, maybe. 

She walked away, 

out the oak door that always creaked halfway open 

out of the scene she had made 

out of my life forever. 

Leaving salty tears, 

stale blood,

the clink of heart fragmented, and a girl lost amongst shadow 

in her place. 

I wonder, sometimes, 

in the hush of twilight, 

if she remembers me. 

What emotions strike her, if she does. 

I want for an apology, 

a sign that the sorrow I felt 

is reflected in her, somehow. 

I suppose in the end it doesn’t matter. 

Cause my heart, 

it always 

stayed 

broken.

Masks

There is a man.

He follows me,

a few lengths behind,

just far enough in the distance

for doubt to creep into my bones.

But then his pace quickens,

and I must resist the urge to quicken my own.

Facing stoically forward,

I ignore the patter of footfalls

nearing my back.

"Turn around," he says

with a voice crunched with gravel.

I do.

"Look," I say, "leave me alone,

"Will you?

"I don’t know who you are

"And you don’t seem the sort of man

"I ought to be speaking with."

And he doesn’t.

His clothes are torn

his hair is greasy

his eyes are tired

his face is broken.

"Well," says the man, "I do not wear a mask."

"Do not mock me, sir," I huff,

"are you implying everyone else is?"

He tilts his head. "No.

"I’m telling you."

"What do you want?" I ask.

My feet itch to dash away.

"Many things," he replies.

"But if you mean to ask,

"what will it take for me to leave,

"then I say, take it off.’

I step backward.

"Take off what?"

"Weren’t you listening?"

He holds out a hand.

"Your mask."

He points at me.

"Your cheeks are blushed,

"your hair is neat,

"your eyes are bright,

"your face, unblemished by pain.’

He shakes his head.

"Just like the rest.

"But you needn’t hide from me."

I roll my eyes,

ignore the pang in my stomach,

and say, "Well, if it’ll send you on your way."

Then continue stubbornly,

"But I’m telling you, I wear no such thing."

He reaches a hand up.

My fingers tremble so I tighten them.

He hooks a finger around my chin.

My chest aches so I hold my breath.

He pulls.

And comes away with mask in hand.

I gasp but the air doesn't reach my lungs.

He lifts a mirror.

"Look," he says.

I look.

His face stares back at me.

[dollarbin]

Sandy Saturday's #13:

Pass of Arms

I'll bet there are already far more words written about T. Swift's new record than in all of the Mahabharata (that's the Hindu holy book that contains the Bhagavad Gita; it's around 13,000 pages long).

The opposite can be said for Pass of Arms, a 1971 half hour film that contains two stand alone Sandy Denny songs. The film does not have a Wikipedia page and is not available in any form anywhere as near as I can tell: it exists but you literally cannot watch it.

Having a Wikipedia page is a pretty low bar. Without knowing, I bet there are extensive ones dedicated to Chewbacca's family tree and Joe Biden's dog. I'm right on both counts of course: I just looked.

But google to your hearts content: the internet confirms that the short film existed, that it claimed to be "award winning", and that a guy who worked marginally on the 80's buddy flick Spies Like Us, in which I seem to remember that Dan Aykroyd and Chevy Chase save the world from nuclear destruction while failing to make us laugh, directed it; and that's it.

Happily, we can still hear the songs at least, something I've never done with any real focus until this moment. Let's start with Here in Silence.

Okay, I'm digging it so far. I picture a knight in his pensive non-warrior boy clothes looking longingly at his maiden, fall grass billowing between them in slow motion; but then that scene gives way to that same knight, now in full armor, gearing up for gnarly battle and then we realize this is actually a film about the Children's Crusade, or maybe it's all a chunky metaphor and it's actually about angsty and hirsute teens in jolly old 70's England: they're looking to stick to the man, or bloke I guess - this is England - and, well, maybe there's a reason no one other than me is angry they can't watch this film anymore because this song, which Denny clearly did not write, kinda sucks. Sandy sounds glorious, as always, but I'd rather hear her sing The Wheels On The Bus.

Have some faith though, people. We've got the marginally more famous Man of Iron track left to consider. I've definitely heard this one before, but I can remember nothing about it other than the fact that it's really long and moody with strings. Here goes!

Yeah, those are strings alright. Today the students at my tiny high school were all bent out of shape - it's Spring and everyone's either breaking up, thinking about it or striving to create similar drama in their life asap, so I led a full school game of musical chairs on the basketball court and declared in advance that I would win at all costs. I did not win but I shoved a bunch of giant teen boys aside in the effort and everyone laughed at their weird teacher and got into it.

We're a pretty cool school so one of our tenth graders, who's already a semi-professional cellist, played whatever came into his head for each round, which sure beat dancing around the chairs while T. sang 65 new songs about her loser boyfriends or whatever. My student's cello sounded, some of the time, a bit like the vibe that starts the track, only better. Then for the next round he'd play Mozart at triple speed.

But now there's a whole mess of fifes involved and this thing is starting to sound silly. Bring in Sandy Denny soon, please.

Oh thank the sensitive medieval Jesus who probably repeatedly appears to the lead character in this film swathed in psychedelic splendor: here's Sandy, and she's brought a whole pack of Cinderella's helpful birds with her to twitter about, somewhat helpfully.

But these lyrics are unbearable. When I was in seventh grade I committed the cardinal sin of writing an earnest original poem about "the roller coaster of life" and then turned it in to my earnest, no clue teacher who of course then read it to the whole class while on the verge of tears - someone had finally attempted something, anything, of marginal note in his earnest but lousy class - which turned my pimply face red, then white, then putrescent purple with shame as the other 13 year olds around me murmured then moved on to mirth and then on to all out rage: never would I be forgiven for writing sensitive poetry in earnest. Jeff Stimpfig, the school's stock character bully, declared me both gay (it was 1989; "gay" equaled uncool and homophobia equaled cool; what a dumb world...) and soon to be dead through his potent fists. Anyway, my seventh grade poem was surely terrible. But it contained far fewer cliches than this claptrap.

Was this end you chose Sir Knight?

Was this why you were born so bright?

The wolves will chew your bones tonight...

Sandy clearly needed a sizeable offered payday to have ever uttered these words; Trevor Lucas, or perhaps Stephen Stills, surely talked her into the whole gig. The guitar is nice though... I wonder if Sandy plays it. Sounds like her...

But good grief, now we've got a stomach churning drum thing going on. I'm starting to think this whole film may have been a Stephen Stills vanity project: it probably centers on Stills's broriffic relationship with Joe Freakin' Lala; they're on a quest to no longer suck and it's going nowhere fast as their stuck in a room of lemons, all of them worth sucking, and buxom ladies who admire them for no discernible reason whatsoever; and then, at the end of the film / this terrible song, aliens in sunglasses descend and take Steve and Joe to their leader for an extraterrestrial blues jam complete with wolves and low production value fake wind. Clearly, they didn't have Neil Young's budget for fake wind: he's got a huge budget when it comes to producing fake wind.

I'm guessing that Sandy's estate is responsible for insuring this film can no longer be seen by anyone. Indeed, The Dollar Bin itself may soon be hacked so as to eliminated this entire post one conniving letter at a time in their nefarious quest to separate Denny from any observable connection to the film Pass of A....

[doctorweebmd]

Because I’m nosey for the author ask…Hope you don’t mind :-)

🙋🏻‍♀️❌💔💲

ahhh NO THIS ISNT NOSINESS i LOVE oversharing get ready and also THANK YOU FOR SENDING THIS!!! it was super fun and distracted me from the agony that is writing plot and remembering that its sunday night 🥺

🙋‍♀️ - do any real-life people know what I write fanfic? Uhhh. My husband does but I've never let him read any of it. I do tell people that I write 'fiction' in my spare time, because its like, my one hobby, but definitely don't extrapolate. i'm making the assumption that most people in the medical field don't know shit about ao3 but i also know for a FACT that there are multiple weeb sleeper agents out there. doing medicine. while weebing. BUT. i'm sure if anyone recognized any of my stuff it would be a 'what were YOU doing at the devils sacrament' situation haha

❌ - a trope i will never write? Probably alpha/beta/omega stuff. Some people do them really well and I've certainly read really great ABO, but its one of those dynamics that I would never want to voluntarily explore. Its actually the one tag I actively filter out when looking for new fic. On that same note, Pregnancy/Kidfic. Babies and parenting give me the major ick (this may be colored heavily by the fact that i dont want children and am at that age where people keep ASKING ABOUT IT.) tbh i'm also not much of a fantasy person or historical person, so a lot of hybrid/mermaid/royalty AUs are a no for me. and, probably most controversially? established relationship. listen i am here for the drama i dont care about healthy loving domestic stuff! i want miscommunication! i want pining! i want discovering each other for the first time! i want fumbling and blushing!!!

.... wow there are a LOT of things i dont think i'd write lol yikes.

💔 - Is there a fic of yours that broke your heart? Not to be predictable but yeah. Zero-sum game. In part because it was a very vulnerable place of writing emotionally - both because i had not, for many years, tapped into my own mental health experiences for fear of it being triggering while writing, but also partially because i was working in the icu during peak covid and everyone was dying and it was so fucking depressing and demoralizing. I teared up at a couple of scenes - this ended up super long so i'm going to break it down by chapter:

Chapter 7 when Katsuki walked by the bar his friends were having a reunion at, Jirou ran out to get him and Kirishima stopped her, saying 'we have to let him go.'

Chapter 12, Katsuki asking - are you afraid? And Zero looking up at the sky saying - Am I afraid? And then reciting that poem. 'Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light. I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.' That scene I can see so so vividly in my head, hear their voices, intonations, expressions - and it breaks my heart. The tent scene at the end of Chapter 12, too - 'Do you think that's what love feels like?' 'Fuck if I know.' FUCK ME UP. ARHGHH S.

Chapter 15 - Mitsuki saying 'But you’re gonna eventually have to find a way to love people without hurting them. Or you’re going to end up alone.' and Katsuki having a breakdown after. Then later in the chapter, Inko asking '“… I wonder, sometimes. Who he would become if he never met you.” WHAT THE FUCKKKKK

Chapter 19 - god. Where do I even start. The entire confession scene is like punch after punch to the ribcage. Specifically:

"How does Katsuki explain that the first time in his life he considered he might be in love is when hands he’s dreamt off for nearly twenty years (Now just the one. Half is gone, because it has to be, because to be complete is to give Katsuki more than he deserves) wrapped themselves around his throat, making him wonder if love might be a bit like dying, might be a bit like that last fucking breath when nothing in the goddamn world can feel more cathartic - that last strawberry, the last sip of water, the last bullet in the chamber - and they bled and fought and fucked and destroyed each other and nothing has ever felt to pure and perfect and devastating and absolutely holy - if that’s not love, then what the hell is?"

and

"“Yeah. Yeah, that’s right. I love you and I’m walking away from you and I never want to see you again. Okay? I never want to see you again.”

AND

“…What am I supposed to do now?” Inko Midoriya whispers out to the street. No more fretting, no more restless nights, no more ‘what if’s.’ Her son is back, but despite that, she’s still alone. They both are.

“I don’t know.” Katsuki responds honestly.

“Find something else to live for, I guess.”

Chapter 23 - the proposal scene. Specifically:

'Not because you saved me physically – and you did, you did, you’re always saving me, and I’m always saving you, I fuckin’ know, we’ll always save each other because that’s who we are, but it's more than that. Its more.'

AND

“But you need to know – you need to. That, with all of me, I love who you were, I love who you are, and I love who you’re becoming.”

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you. No matter how short, no matter how painful, no matter how fucking temporary all of this is. I want to experience it with you.”

“Marry me.”

AND. Finally and most of all. The authors note at the end. Even re-reading it now, its so raw. I think about this a lot:

'It all anchors on the belief that you can still be who you want to be. The belief that ‘broken’ people can get better. The belief, the ever present faith - because it has to be faith, because all tangible things are friable but not faith, not this - that you can be found. That you are not irredeemable. That there is a future worth fighting for.'

I have moments from 'we will wait and wait in that space' and 'nothing else fills' that made me tear up, but it still won't match the raw levels of emotion and vulnerability that was channeled in zero-sum. even now, years later, its still my heart.

Wow sorry this got SUPER long. but i loved going through zero-sum and picking out my favorite scenes so thank you for that :) :) :)

💲 - would i ever open commissions? gosh no, probably not. i'm not great at one-shots and deadlines and i work super inconsistent hours and tbh i have minimal confidence in the consistency of my writing to offer it as a service. i'm also very lucky to be pretty secure financially so i wouldn't have that kind of external driving force. but i'm very flattered that that's even a question. 🥺 id happily give away all my mind-vomit for free.

AHHHH i'm sorry this is so long THANK YOU FOR INDULGING ME i adore you ❤️

[brain-in-a-skin-suit]

Okay so disclaimer i haven't seen Dead Apple in a while, and I also didn't go into writing this with a conclusion in mind, so its a bit of a mess.but! i did reach a conclusion! Sorry for any inaccuracies, I was working from memory for a lot of this. please correct me if im wrong about something! Also pretty please add any connected theories if you have any

Warning: long post

I remember watching Dead Apple and being really thrown off by the fact that Fyodor's ability seemed to be chill with him. Every character aside from him who had an ability manifestation was fighting their ability. This makes me think that in his natural state (not affected by Shibusawa's ability), Fyodor is already fighting his own ability, so when Shibusawa was doing his thing, the relationship flipped and they got along.

In chapter 108 of the manga, fyodor suddenly says he's controlled by "a demon" and follows it up with this:

then he says this:

which is really key. It implies everything i suspected from Dead Apple-- Fyodor's ability is his enemy.

Of course, right after this scene, he stabs Sigma and basically says "teehee I was lying the whole time"

But I don't know if I truly believe he was lying (which isn't a hot take, I've seen other people who believe the same thing). What he said earlier really fit with the conclusions that could be drawn from Dead Apple. There is a real possibility that he when his ability regained control it just, ya know, lied.

Okay fine, whatever, what is his ability?? who, or what, is he? to be fully honest, I don't know.

But here's what we do know -- or for many of these, what we suspect (in number list so i can easily refer back to them)

1. Fyodor might be immortal. A very popular theory based mainly around the fact that he is everywhere in the BSD timeline but never seems to age

2. His ability probably works against him in some way, likely taking over his body due to some "weakness" that was brought forth by the ability, and then taken advantage of. I am going to refer to the "good" Fyodor we briefly see in ch 108 as 108!fyodor just to make things easier for myself.

3. He can kill non-gifted with a touch of his hand. I don't think he can kill gifted the same way (he had to shoot the cat-lady, plus every ability-kill we've seen thus far has been of non-gifted victims)

4. Nikolai does not know how to kill him (still unclear on the whole poisoning plotline-- I have seen the theory that Nikolai didn't poison them earlier, but the "antidote" is poison. Still not fully clear on how all of this fits together), and wants Sigma to find out his ability so he can kill him.

5. In Dead Apple, he was split into "Crime" and "Punishment". One person was an ability manifestion just like everyone else had been dealing with, the other was Fyodor himself acting as part of his ability-- which is odd because the ability is supposed to sever the gift from the gifted. and yet fyodor was still part of it, just fragmented. This supports the fyodor is not fully human idea presented by Sigma's question of "what are you?" and the immortaity theory. It also supports an alter-ego, as he had two personalities there.

6. fyodor has some vendetta against the gifted despite being a gifted himself

7. gifts are typically a result of some type of trauma or past experience. we do not really know his backstory.

so point 4. Nikolai doesn't know how to kill him. Assuming everything 108!fyodor said was true, this dagger could kill him:

sword Kladenets is an established sword type, typically belonging to a hero (interesting that fyodor has one...)

"In some heroic poems and ancient Russian legends, a sword Kladenets acts as a self-cutting sword, which, on the orders of its owner, can cut down an entire forest or at least the whole enemy army. Other weapons could heal or make their owners or holders – invulnerable."

interesting stuff. invincibility? Well, fyodor may be immortal (see point #1), so that could go hand in hand with that. It would also explain why a sword Kladenets would be needed to kill him-- any other weapon would fall short.

Also, fyodor's "ability" involves being able to kill other people easy-peasy by tapping them (point #3)-- which is the same thing the sword kladenets does. Remember, every person he's killed with his ability bled out where he touched them-- as if they were cut with a blade!!

But why can't he kill ability users? my theory is that abilities are on the same level as a sword kladenets, and therefore the sword cannot do it on its own. Fyodor can only be killed by the sword kladenets that he wields and not by an ability; he cannot kill an ability user with the sword. makes enough sense to me

okay, what else can we learn from the sword?

Everything I read about the sword describe that the hero has to find the sword; by digging it from the ground or taking it from a dead body, or some other way of earning it. Then the sword will work with the hero. But Fyodor's ability (which I am beginning to believe is simply the sword he wields) works against him (see point #2), which makes me think he obtained the sword without earning it. This could be the "weakness" that was brought forth by his ability and allowed for his ability to overtake him-- which makes sense!! he would not have that weakness had he not obtained the sword!

The sword is also often given a personality-- it is a character in itself (which would explain the alter-ego point #5)

furthermore, how could he have a sword in prison if it wasn't part of his ability??

So! what I am trying to say is that fyodor somehow wrongly obtained a sword kladenets (or perhaps in this universe, the sword kladenets), and is now controlled by it. this led to him form an alter ego (the sword's personality), which overtook him due to the fact that he did not earn the sword, and was not powerful enough to control it. The sword gave him the ability to be unkillable (and therefore immortal/unaging), and the ability to kill non-gifted easily by simple contact.

i would like to emphasize that i am very likely wrong, as this is BSD we're talking about after all. I am working from memory and a very small amount of research, and also using this as an excuse to procrastinate. Take this with a grain of salt. but also, please add onto this if you have thoughts. I have not read Crime and Punishment (I have copy but I've been busy) or any other Dostoevsky book, so if you have and you think this relates to his books in any way (or that it contradicts them) I'd love to hear it!

[hauntedheroines]

How about ♫ for Fuchsia and Steerpike? 💕

Oh you wonderful person <3

I chose to analyse the song below because follows their story in a perfect chronological order.

For my full Fuchsia x Steerpike playlist click the link.

I can analyse other songs for them as well (please please please ask for more)

Say When - The Fray

I see you there, don't know where you come from Unaware of a stare from someone Don't appear to care that I saw you and I want you

And everyone is rising to meet you, to greet you Turn around and you're walking toward me I'm breaking down and you're breathing slowly You say the word and I will be your man, your man

During countless useless rituals which the royal Family is bond to attempt, people remember Fuchsia exists if only to pay respect and proper courtesy to a Goran. Fuchsia tolerates it as she was taught to. Her mind is not on them anyway. It’s on the last minutes of ceremony when deccurum will be less strict and she will be allowed short but exciting moments of talk with a certain kitchen boy, her clown of the clouds. His snaky face would never betray it, but she is the only one in the room he is craving to see as well.

We're coming close and then even closer We bring it in but we go no further We're separate, two ghosts in one mirror, no nearer

He seeks her in her solitude. He finds her mostly in the woods, singing made-up nursery rhymes to herself, spining her wild hair over her exposed shoulders from clothes that are too big for her. They speak, but barely talk. It seens like there is a bridge between them they can never fully cross. Even when she starts to agree to secretly meet him in the castle, the years of neglect or outright abuse and never knowing intimacy makes them both distrustful and cluesless on how to procced. Even Steerpike, who takes the most iniative, acts by-the-book on the rules of romance: flowers, poems, pets. A safe path to trade upon. A shiny garmet to distract Fuchsia from the otherwise lack of grace of her companion and vile nature that she is certain to spurn if she ever sees it.

They came from different worlds and yet were the same. He is a kitchen boy and she is a princess. By convenience they shouldn’t be together, but convenience always seems to work against them. The princess, in the most unpredictable way, is an outcast whom Gormenghast finds no use for and thefore is left to fed for herself. And although Fuchsia has not experience abuse like Steerpike has perse - as her material needs were being met - she was not cared for either. Unable to wear the crown for being a woman, she is worthless in the eyes of Gormenghast, and even her family makes her aware of it.

Say when and my own two hands Will comfort you tonight, tonight Say when and my own two arms Will carry you tonight, tonight

The first time Fuchsia embraces him it's by Nanny's grave. Estelle Daniel, Gormenghast’s producer, described the grave scene as follows:

"I think you understand in this scene that they actually do love each other. You know there is a real chemistry there. In a way, if Fuchsia were to have said, 'Look, let’s just get on a white horse and ride away from the castle together and just be lovers,' I think there are moments where Steerpike might almost have agreed."

Come across you lost and broken You're coming to but you're slow in waking You start to shake, you still haven't spoken, what happened

She asked to see beneath the mask, but turned away from him.

They're coming back and you just don't know when You want to cry but there's nothing coming They're gonna push until you give in or say when

He suffocates a cry after she leaves the room which he spend days decorating for her. Maybe it would feel good to cry, but after sucessfully holding it back for many years, he has forgotten how to. Remembering his purpose renews his resolve: "I'm gonna make them wish they were never born, or at least not born where they were."

Dr. Prunesquallor, Mr Flay, and his little lordship Titus are under his trail and soon everyone will know the real Steerpike and declare him a public enemy.

Now we're here, and it turns to chaos Hurricane, coming all around us Double crack throws you back from the window, you stay low

Everyone is talking about it. Steerpike, the snake - killed her aunts, and now Mister Flay. Steerpike, the runaway, is threatening the monarchy, her mother and brother. Steerpike, the rat - he is hiding in the dirts, in between the walls of Gormenghast. We must find him.

Turns out he is the one who finds her, by the window of her secret attic. This is where their story began and where it ends.

It all began with a man and a country Every plan turns another century Around again, another nation fallen Maybe God can be on both sides Of the gun, never understood why Some of us never get it so good, so good Some of this was here before us All of this will go after us It never stops until we give in

Jonathan Rhys Meyers described Steerpike's presence in Gormenghast akeen to being in The Truman Show: You can't get away. Most of you can do is control it. When Fuchsia and Steerpike dream of shaking these archaic walls or just being free from it, they are talking about fighting a strict unmoavable centuries old system of rigid hierarchy and nonsensical traditions that have made people living under it borderline eschizophrenic.*

*I know the characters over-the-top and theatrical manners can be seeing as such or as an artistic choice by the director, but I think it can be both

Barquentine tells the Queen herself that "even kings come and go - gormenghast remains". Gormenghast is an entity on itself, a giant monster and every character is in it's belly.

Steerpike could be the one to break the social order. He told her once he could not understand how there should be poor and rich. She dreamed of a shinny hero, she saw him now as a villain - he could be both. They can break the wheel together, because he is stronger now. With her, he is. For her, he is.

Thank you for your request <3

SEND ME A ♫ WITH THE NAME OF A SHIP AND I’LL TELL YOU A SONG THAT FITS THEM PERFECTLY

[wrathfulmercy]

Similarities I found in towl about the way I write Rick part 1

Obviously these are all just my opinions and interpretations but I wanted to share them since I write Rick since 2019 now and had all these things in my head before the series even released. Beware! Spoilers for episode 1 underneath the cut! And tw: heavy topics and long text

- Rick mentions his father was a farmer (what I didn’t expect cause I always imagined him being a sheriff or something too) and that he got disappointed by him as he bluntly lied into Rick’s face. He did it to protect the family in his point of view, but Rick was shocked and hurt by the dishonesty. I always imagined Rick’s father as someone who drastically damaged his general trust and “helped” develop Rick’s trust issues and lack of self esteem cause when he couldn’t trust his father, he wonders if he himself is someone to trust or who will sooner or later be like his father and lets people down. (To be fair I imagined his father as a strict asshole xD but that’s just overdramatizing it for writing purposes and cause it fits to my rick)

- At the beginning of the episode Rick tries to kill himself or at least has suicidal thoughts he doesn’t go through with. I always imagined Rick as someone who struggles or struggled with some kind of self harm (simply because I feel so similar to him that it would fit) and that for him it was more or less a blessing as the world fell to change his auto aggression into external aggression he could let out on the walkers or someone else. Many of you know I studied psychology and know a lot about it from myself as well and in the past self harm was often mistaken with suicide attempts in treatment. It’s not the same! People who self harm often don’t want to die, they self harm because they want to keep themselves under control so they don’t kill themselves. Self harm and suicidal tendencies are not the same! Some people self harm to feel alive again, to feel themselves again (that’s why mindfulness in therapy is such a big topic), to control their overwhelming feelings or to feel the pain in a physical way instead of the emotional way (cause you can somehow control physical pain by treating it - a wound for example that’s why many people who self harm take extra good self care of it - but you can’t control emotional pain. I describe Rick often as a control freak and even if I think that in this scene his suicidal tendencies were indeed real, it showed definitely a part of him I always expected while others often told me like “what Rick? Never would he think about suicide or self harm”. Oh yes he does. He likes the pain and thrives from it cause it makes him feel alive. Thats why he goes absolutely savage without a second thought cause he can let it out there and fight like a monster and it doesn’t even bother him cause he only feels alive then. You can even see how his look changes and he comes back to life after he cut himself and realizes what he was doing. Great acting as well! Cause often you end a dissociative moment where you could easily unalive yourself by inflicting pain so you come back to reality then and often you can’t even remember how you got there. Thats why people who blame others for suicide cause “it’s selfish” are absolutely in the wrong too cause no one in the right mind would do it if they would be able to think that far in that moment. You’re not cause you’re in an absolute exceptional circumstance where your brain chemicals are not working anymore. Pain or the caused adrenaline after it can help bringing it back. Sorry for the Ted talk.

- he writes (love) letters to Michonne and I always imagined him as a reader and writer who likes poetry and wouldn’t only write beautiful letters but also nice poems for the ones he loves. He’s a romantic and I’m glad they showed that. (And yes again I feel so connected to him that since I write, I thought he has to write too haha)

- He admits to Michonne in the dream sequence that he’s late and I always imagined him as an over sleeper due to his insomnia and someone who sometimes is a bit tardy. Even if he tries desperately to be a morning person to get things done, he needs a lot of strong coffee and some time to pass before he functions and talks properly (and yes he loves staying in bed all day). He’s still super reliable and will always be there when you need him, but it might happen he is a bit late 🤣 and the insomnia and nightmares from his ptsd? Also well represented.

- In my head he always was a sweet tooth and a junk food lover and surprise: we got the pizza quote and how much he loves that xD

Bonus:

Also do I have to mention how I imagined the crm working with the ranks and everything years ago with my partners already? Also the A and B thing? My first verse for my OC Alex was the crm and I created her when I first wrote Rick in that world, imagining a character like her fitting there perfectly and teaming up with him. How funny that Thorne exactly fits that badass female character and how she is played by the love interest actress of the face I used for Alex. 🤣 damn I was so close with getting her actress right as well.

[theskoomacat]

I wrote "i'm not obsessed with anything atm" in that ask game and then lost myself completely in Remedy content not even a day later. clown behavior

Anyway Max Manpaynes 1 and 2 were ok, ppl say 3 was also okay but it's too far from other Remedy stuff so i'm not dissecting it. So here's the easter eggs from MP1 and 2 for people who haven't played them (reverse easter eggs rather because the stuff they were referencing did not not exist yet. what's first, an easter egg or an easter chicken?)

(at this point i realized that i've lost all my screencaps to a power outage. aye killing meself.)

The biggest most obvious thing were the TV shows. I guess the one thing you can trust Remedy to do is to put a fictional TV show in their game. Address Unknown was a wild ride. In MP1 the show is an obvious reference to Twin Peaks, it features the main character, a mental hospital patient, witnessing his double conversing with a backwards-speaking pink flamingo in a place with red drapes.

In MP2 this story evolves: we learn that the main character is tormented by his evil serial killer double, John Mirra, who frames mc for his murders. (hmmm sounds familiar)

(The fact that Sam does "acting" for all the series is the icing on the cake. draw Scratch like this challenge)

He is forced to look for Mirra, following the trail of his murder scenes into an alternate Noir York City, because Mirra has kidnapped his gf. He gets put into that mental institution from MP1's episode and is forced to kill his doctor self-defense and flee. He laments that through killing he has become John Mirra himself - maybe he has been Mirra the entire time. The series ends with him receiving a phone call from himself. (Naturally, the entire series is heavily focused on the concept of mirrors, including citing a poem by the poet Pool on the same topic).

Watching all this made it all click for me because I have seen but have not processed a snippet of an interview with Sam Lake where he said that he enjoyed Twin Peaks season 3: The Return (hello??) that also featured an evil double plot and the mc returning from another dimension after many years. The only thing that is different is that afai remember, evil Cooper was not Cooper himself - unlike how it happens in Address Unknown and Alan Wake 2. So it's extremely fun to see that after 20 years Sam has managed to turn these doodles on the margins into an entire AAA game, love it for him.

Another pretty fun meta moment when Max get heavily drugged:

(There is another note that tells him that he is a computer game character, to his dismay, but I like it less.) I know it was just a typical 4th wall-breaking joke back then but in the context of AW this becomes way cooler.

Other minor stuff that made me go leo_dicaprio_pointing.png:

665 and 667, the neighbors of the beast, are used as codes in both games.

one of the characters seemingly gets shot in the head in the first game, and in MP2 this conversation happens: "I saw you take a bullet to the head." "Maybe it's still there. Keeps me focused." - kind of taking a note of this for AW3.

MP1 constantly references the American Dream, the first part is called that as well - in contrast with the American Nightmare.

The whole thing with "Odin" - no real connection with AW but just fun to see Remedy putting heavy scandinavian mythology symbolism in the game unprompted.

man i can't remember more without the screencaps, this is so tragic. Nightingale was mentioned but iirc with no hidden meaning. here you go.

Anyway, I hope I have at least managed to enlighten the people who haven't heard of Address Unknown because in the context of AW2 this stuff is bonkers

[avaelangel]

So. I watched 1899 again. I have thoughts. Spoilers!

I think, Daniel is a stowaway. We see him wear the same suit everybody has in the end. But he also says ''I'm not going to leave you again''. Did he leave in the very beginning, seeing his wife getting absolutely consumed by her desire to avoid the pain? There is also an open capsule on the spaceship. I thought it was Maura's, but hers is between Eyk and Krester, and the second one is beside Jerome. I might be wrong, but could Ciaran move Daniel out of spite? Out of the way? We don't know how death actually works there, but I'm assuming that the turning off works only in one cycle of the simulation. But what about the outer body? I don't want to think about Daniel ending up as a brain in a jar or a core of a massive computer. Because the spaceship is just not real. He does say ''I'll always be there''. It could have been an oath to his maddened wife or a consolation oath of a person who might not be alive for long.

Every memory ends with Maura's ''Wake up'' and a pyramid-pupil in a person's eye. The show ends with a zoom into Maura's eye with a pyramid-pupil. The spaceship might be closer to Ciaran, but still not enough. It might be an actual bridge between the simulations of a greater scale. Maura's monologue (poem?) in the very first scene actually shows us the entire scope of that particular branch of the simulation. How long ago Ciaran took over? Two years or four months?

These are two dates we here about the most. Two years ago Eyk's family died, two years ago Maura miscarried. Four months ago Ciaran reached out and four months ago Prometheus vanished. So, did Maura's project start two years ago? Did Ciaran hijack it when Elliot died, four months ago? Henry does say to Elliot that ''his body remembers''. Could the project start before Elliot's supposed diagnosis?

Maura and Daniel created ''home away from home'', so Elliot's playroom, of course, wasn't a grave from the start. They lived in that landscape that Maura must have took from her memories. But we do see a homely inside of a grim pyramid, with no toys or a trace of Elliot beside the pictures. Was the playroom a basement of the pyramid that is seemingly in a different place?

I feel so sorry for Elliot. I am conflicted on how much of the real him there is actually left. Like Maura, he has the same attire exept for the Mental Hospital (I'll do a post on clothes). In his memory he says things and behaves in a way that a child, who wasn't exposed to the weird and dark false-reality of things, would. But he also says things that Maura would probably want him to say and think. Elliot also seems older in the Mental Hospital scene. Yeah, kids grow fast, but was this scene filmed later on purpose? Or was it just the magic of cinema, not the timing?

That mark on his neck. Could mark a simulated person? Could mark him as core of the whole thing? You know, sometimes in games there are simple cubes that hold a part or a whole location. Those cubes are out of sight, under the whole thing. Did Elliot hold the entire simulation above him? Is it why he can't die, be turned off and was important in Henry's part of getting out? Of course, he held the pyramid, but maybe that's why he did? Because he takes part in loading the simulation and in the turning it off. Maura wanted him close in the whole process.

Henry does have some control, I think. Would Maura put him at the imaginary high step of an imaginary food chain, only to feed her ilusion of being his victim? I doubt it. He probably has some control, enough control to torture people, but not enough to get out or do more. He has orderlies. They kick in whn he needs them. His own thumb-dudes like in Spy Kids. The ship is his experiment inside someone else's. Probably, Ciaran's. Henry is aware of his older son's doing, probably. I don't really thing they are aligned, though. Maybe, Ciaran used him to take over. They teamed up to take Maura's discovery away and in the midst of it Henry got betrayed.

Daniel says ''all will be lost'' if Maura doesn't stop Ciaran. Is he the only voice of reason or the tool to steer her in the right direction? I absolutely believe in Daniel, by the way. I think Maura remembers his touch, she instantly cares for Elliot. He is the only link to the 21st century, I think, we have. Dated and era-not appropriate vibes are there for the same reason too, probably. Also, Maura swears only in the end, when Henry has got her. I am SURE ''fuck'' & ''fucking'' existed in the 18th century, but the way Maura and Daniel use it seems so much more modern.

Yes, this is The Solace House. Why Solace though? Solace in Denial seems to be too easy. Maybe, it always was his name. Like Maura is the Star Of The Sea, Daniel was meant to mellow out her comet-like genius, to keep her away from the storms. From falling. But he loved her too much to overpower her high-reaching desire to alter the grimness of their actual reality. What also proves their connection to me, that his ''I love you. Never forger'' has a responce from Maura. ''Never ever''. She says it in the moments that would mean most, maybe, thinking that saying it to much might devalue the answer. To overthink this even more, she doesn't say I love you back. But they also might have switched places in that exchange, so there is no need at times. The important thing is that the one knows that he\she is loved. And will never ever forget.

Maura says that as kids her and Ciaran didn't get along much. But she still looks for him. Is there a trauma link? They seemingly expierenced the same treatment from their father, maybe Maura had it tougher because of Henry's preference. She still wanted to know what happened to him. Could the real reason for her search be coded under a desperate attempt to find her sibling? Whoever coded it, just tweaked a few things, making it out to be a selfless journey to defeat her monstrous father.

Also...isn't Maura a bit too much of the protagonist? British lady with knowledge that (at that time) is expected of men. She isn't taken seriously by most of people, but she is more helpful and more caring than anyone, really. She is smart, she is stubborn and has a dark secret. I feel like I have met her before. Was it a script for 18th century expierence created for Elliot? A family of travelers looking for adventures.

I've been going for long and haven't even touched on anybody else. I will. The last two things I want to talk about here: Albert and relationships inside Maura's family.

Albert is a bug, also the bug in the program. Daniel and Elliot clearly mastered bugs to their advantage, but I also thing the first appearance of Albert might have been a sign of the last calm moments, before the experiment with the ship started. The first loop, if you will.

At their core, Henry and Daniel are similar. They both would do or did everything to help their wives, forgeting their children in the end. But Henry's children were alive. Daniel's child was dying, while his wife tried not to let him die completely. Preventing him from moving on. Daniel does love Elliot, but in the storm of Maura's grief, his own was lost and could loose Maura also.

Could Ciaran hate Daniel? Did Ciaran try to use Maura's intelligence to his benefit and Daniel intervened? If Daniel was meant to be in the second empty capsule, does he include his life in ''All will be lost''? At the simplest twist, his time might be running out faster than everybody else's.

I will continue. I have more notes. Thank you for reading, if you did.

[viyil-words]

Things I'll Never Be

And I'll never be the one who wakes up with that beautiful kind of messy hair. Or the one who looks perfect in the picture she didn't know you were taking of her. I'll never be the one who can make sweatpants look good or pull her hair back in three seconds with the scrunchie on her wrist. And I'll never be the one who makes people laugh without trying or looks cute when she's angry or focused or sad. I'll never be the one who doodles perfect drawings in her notebook or seems wonderfully carefree or gets straight A's even though she was staring at you the whole semester. I'll never be the one who walks elegantly and whose hair falls perfectly in front of her eyes as she looks down at the book in her hand.

I'll never be the girl I've always wanted to be or the girl you wanted from me.

I'll be the one who looks a little frightening when she studies, a pencil between her teeth and her forehead crinkled in concentration. I'll be the one whose face gets red when she works out in the sun for too long, whose nose turns pink when it's cold out and she tips her head back to catch snowflakes on her tongue. I'll be the one who rudely avoids eye contact with you so that she can finish writing the scene or poem in her head. I'll be the one with poor posture who looks a little younger than her age and whose hair never seems to sit right on her head. I'll be the one whose glasses make her eyes invisible in pictures and bright light. I'll be the one who walks a little too stiffly and can't help but bite her nails in social situations.

I'll be the girl I've tried so hard to erase and the girl you replaced.

I'll be me.

I hate this idea we (I) have about what beautiful looks like. Not just when it comes to looks, but also when it comes to personality and hobbies and lifestyles. I hate that I've created this ideal version of myself that I'll never become, this version that is mysterious and creative and carefree, this girl that everyone loves and notices and wants to know. But the truth is, I'm not that way.

For all intents and purposes, I'm invisible.

I could go on a two-week humanitarian trip (yes, I'm using a real example) and not show up in any of the pictures--not because I'm camera shy, but because I'm just not the person anyone would think to take a picture of. I'm not photogenic and I'm not outgoing and I don't love attention and it doesn't cross my mind to ask for a picture when I'm having a beautiful moment. It doesn't cross my mind to go tell the group about the beautiful rainbow I just saw, or the child that I met, or the lesson that I learned. I tend to keep those things to myself, tucked away in my mind and my journal, and for that reason, I will always be invisible.

A ghost.

That used to really hurt me. I used to wish people saw me, that I was the kind of person people noticed and wanted to know, that I was beautiful in the way I've always imagined beautiful to be. But I think I'm becoming okay with the ghost kind of beautiful, the beautiful that shows itself in little traces--a warm feeling from the kind thing I said to you years ago (though you don't remember it was me), a soft smile when you see the heart I carved into the bathroom door, a laugh at the joke I made too quietly and someone else took the credit for, the kind of beautiful that grows in sidewalk cracks and plants seeds that blossom long after I'm gone. I think I'm okay with that kind of beautiful.

I think I'm okay with being a ghost.