#STOP BELITTLING ME YOU FLESH ROBOTS

[i-dont-eat-drywall]

*insert screaming and sobbing*

[it-will-not-last-the-night]

PQ2-Persona 3 Characters

I play this game slowly for a number of reasons: (1) I like drawing games out because I enjoy them more that way and (2) I played it intermittently, put it down when FE3H came out, then picked it up again, then got DLC for TW3K and put it down again etc. etc. I find it an easy game to put down and get back into.

However, I am now at the end, only Enlil remains and the Velvet Rangers. Since I want to complete the game fully I’m now doing the monotonous and boring task of farming the Reaper to get to Lv 89 with Ren so I can Wild Growth my core party to his Level, get Huang Di, and finish off the Velvet Rangers. Seriously though, who thought I’d reach a point where I’m bullying the poor Reaper and getting bored of the fight? He doesn’t even get me halfway to a full level now!

Anyway. So, with the end approaching, I thought I’d do for the P3 cast what I did for the P4 cast. I decided in the end to actually not watch/read anything about P3 or P4 till I finish PQ2, to form opinions based around it purely from PQ2, then once I’m done with it I’ll go watch LP’s of P3 and P4 to see how wrong (or right!) I got things.

Without further ado my feelings towards the P3 cast solely as they are presented in PQ2:

Exceptions:

I’m starting us off with exceptions. What are exceptions? Exceptions are characters who, for whatever reason, I feel their are circumstances that make them difficult for me to really discuss as a fully-fleshed character. They aren’t necessarily bad, but something about them means I don’t really see them as a fully rounded or developed character like the rest.

P3 Protagonist: Like the P4 Protagonist and Ren I just struggle to form any feelings or attachments to this character. I’ve said before I *suck* at self-insertion. I just do. In FE3H my least favourite character is Byleth, wish I could get rid of them, as I find the relationships between characters with more detailed and fleshed out characteristics and dialogue far more interesting. The P3 Protagonist isn’t bad but, compared to the rest, just feels shallow and uninteresting. He also shares the same problem as all four Protagonists in that I am sick and tired of how much their own teams have to constantly shill them like they’re the greatest thing ever. Ugh. It’s the most annoying thing to me about these self-insert characters, everyone has to stop every ten minutes to remind the player how they’re better than everyone and worship the ground they walk on. I hate it. Anyway; so, yeah, ultimately I find the P3 Protagonist, like Ren and the P4 Protagonist, just not as fully developed or realized in PQ2, and so see them as an exception.

Koromaru: He’s a dog. He’s cute, fun, a great mascot, but he doesn’t have detailed characteristics or interesting personality and dynamics with the other members. But he’s a dog, so, that’s not strange. So I see this as an exception.

Favourite:

These are the P3 Characters who I enjoyed most of all in PQ2.

P3 Female Protagonist: So can someone explain to me why the creators decided to give the Female Protagonist alone a detailed personality and demeanour? Not to mention something like double the amount of spoken dialogue as the other protagonists? Unlike Ren and the other two male Protagonists who barely say much at all and are difficult to define personality-wise beyond ‘cool, loved by all, sometimes make sarcastic remarks’ the Female Protagonist is heavily fleshed out: she’s an energetic and over-enthusiastic type, the ‘charge in head’s first’ type who doesn’t show much in the way of the stoic ‘cool’ calm of the others, and is very effusive and evocative in her mannerisms. She’s dealing with an internal feeling of isolation and inferiority, which she tries to hide from others, and is highly sociable in her engagement with her peers. She was a lot of fun and makes a big impact early with her ‘let me dress up as a policewoman and then karate chop this guard out cold’ routine. Her interactions with Futaba early on are great, almost like an older siser, although sadly those do taper off. Junpei and Yukari have quite good interactions with her as well, the most consistent people involved in her ‘am I out of place’ feelings, and I enjoyed that. I was surprised how there is so little interaction between her and her male counterpart though, would have thought that would be a good well of inspiration. 

Mitsuru: So what I love about Mitsuru is that she and Makoto are not just clones of each other. With Mitsuru also being a ‘older, colder, intelligent, authoritative’ figure I feared that the two would be very similar. But they aren’t. Mitsuru is vastly more secure in herself and confident than Makoto, who still has severe issues with her self-esteem. Indeed Mitsuru is actually kind of awesome in how confident she is. Similarly whilst Makoto is far more an advisor Mitsuru, quite honestly, comes across as if actually SHE leads the P3 cast and the protagonists are just their trump cards. Mitsuru almost always calls every shot for her team and makes the decisions, with their own respective protagonists usually just providing power. I do also enjoy that Mitsuru seems not to have the ‘I’m smart so the stupid member of our team I will always harass’ trait as her critiques of Junpei tend to purely focus on him not taking their situation to seriously and never go to the point of insulting his intelligence as Morganna does with Ryuji in the vanilla game and Royal. I also really liked Mitsuru’s interactions with Junpei. I know he has a girlfriend, he says so in the game, but I see nothing of her so I’d be lying if I didn’t say I somewhat ship the two after her nervousness inviting him to have tea with her and his desperation to protect her when he found out how hard she was trying to get along with him.

Junpei: Junpei has one thing that Ryuji and Yosuke do not have: confidence. Though Ryuji and Yosuke both front confidence it’s often incredibly easy to see the weak points in their facade and to deflate them. Junpei is able to far better stand his ground even when he’s being belittled. He is definitely more reckless than the two as a result, confidence is a double-edged sword, but he’s learned better than them the lesson of feeling good about himself. I do love how Ren can consistently support his ‘Greatest Detective Ever’ declaration and basically took every chance to do so. He luckily seems to lack any of the perversion tendencies, although as I’ve said in PQ2 the same is true of basically everyone, although I do sorta wish we got a bit more on his girlfriend if she’s so important to him. I get because she won’t appear and you won’t see her the game doesn’t want to waste time on a character we learn nothing about, but at certain points it felt off that Junpei doesn’t comment on her at all. 

Interesting:

These are characters I found interesting, easily as interesting as the ones above, but for personal reasons just don’t like quite as much.

Yukari: Oh boy, Yukari. Let’s start with my problem with her before I move on to why I find her so interesting. Put simply Yukari is mean. Whilst with both Ryuji and Yosuke I was pleased to see that despite being the ‘bro’ characters, PQ2 avoided constantly haranguing on them. Not so for Yukari and Junpei, yeesh! Junpei can barely open his mouth without Yukari insulting him, sometimes really rather severely. My problem is that she often insults Junpei just cause he’s too boisterous, or  confident. It just gets...well it gets like Ryuji in the vanilla game or Royal, it feels mean-spirited, particularly since Junpei never reacts by laughing or quipping back, but always by just deflating and sorta whimpering. I didn’t like it. With that said Yukari is still a very interesting character too me because she has an incredibly well-defined character. She is intelligent, emotionally so, perceptive to other’s feelings and has a very sharp wit and tongue, both to put down others and help them. Her interactions with the P3 Female Protagonist are interesting and she is often very insightful actually. I will also confess, to a slight extent, the sheer extent of her nastiness towards Junpei did make me, somewhat, feel as if the two must at least be close, they rarely ever say anything without the other chiming in, so I can see a bit of myself shipping it...but as a terrible mistake the two swear to never tell anyone else and eventually realize is just overall unhealthy for them. 

Ken: Ken plays a pretty well-worn archetype and he plays it fine: the earnest young boy with an edge, wise-beyond-his-years in some senses, but wet-behind-the-ears in others, with a strong hero complex tainted by a bit of an extreme edge. Ken is interesting but less fun to me just because he is somewhat predictable in the role he fulfills, which just isn’t my personal preference. I think he has amazing chemistry, and potential, with Akechi and Futaba and wish he got to interact more with both. His interactions with Ryuji, Ann and Morganna in their Special Ticket together is also absolutely great and again I wish him and Ryuji had more consistent interaction over the course of the game. But a lot of Ken’s interactions come down to Koromaru, which is fine, just not exactly thrilling. I do think Ken is adorable though, he’s very well-meaning and clearly very hard-working, and I’m a bit surprised that some more of the compassionate PTs, such as Ann, don’t actually regularly comment on or find him endearing. 

Aigis: So I feel like Aigis can come across to players of PQ2 as uncomplicated but that’s only at a surface glance. The thing with Aigis is that she clearly HAS already overcome her primary character conflict, her feelings about being an artificial construct and the meaning of her existence. Throughout the third dungeon she expounds heavily on the conclusions she’s already come too. For many a character completing their character arc becomes boring, but not for me. I found Aigis fascinating and LOVED a robot who, rather than repeating the old and tired song-and-dance of ‘do I feel? do I will?’ already has her answers and also avoids the cliche of ‘robots have no emotions’ by, in her own way, being very emotional. 

Fuuka: I enjoyed Fuuka quite a bit, and find her character a nice counterpart to Rise’s and Futaba’s. Although on the surface she seems to be the ‘shy, shrinking violet’ style of character this isn’t really true. She’s soft-spoken, by comparison to most, yes, but she’s not really shy. What she is, is the more calm and analytical of the three Navigators, less prone to exuberant emotional outbursts, but at the same time clearly more innately compassionate than the other two who are more prone to teasing or mocking. I felt her established interest in technology and mechanisms wasn’t integrated as fully as it could have been, alas perhaps because Futaba seemed to occupy more of that role, but did find that, if you look closely, Fuuka actually does offer some of the best advice to Hikari, and is consistently, along with Ryuji and Futaba, Hikari’s most verbal and ardent supporter and defender.

Uninteresting:

First, note, this does not mean I dislike the characters, I like them all, but these are characters who, in PQ2, I found the least interesting.

Akihiko: I feel so bad for him. So PQ2 really does avoid, for the most part, reducing it’s characters just to gags but Akihiko, man, they really do that with him. He basically only ever says one of two things: (1) I want to fight X (2) Protein-joke. It gets...old. I feel sorry for him because I feel he has potential there but the game seems determined to never explore it. He does have a VERY fun interaction with Chie and Makoto, all three I enjoyed and I can easily see Akihiko as Chie’s mentor and teacher, the two blend together well and have fun chemistry. His interactions with Makoto are also nice since it reveals his deepest character, as he is the one who tells Makoto to acknowledge herself more and sometimes realize that there is more to existence than regimented preparation. I enjoyed his chaotic energy, despite seeming a bit like a leader and an authority figure he’s actually very chaotic and impulsive, living in a more ‘go as the current takes you’ way which makes him adaptable and reactive. Now if only they’d used that for more than protein-related jokes. 

Shinjiro: Poor Shinjiro feels to me like he fell into the trap Kanji avoided. His main problem is just he spends so much time brooding and making tiny statements that we don’t get a feel for him. His other problem is that his most consistent dialogue partner is Akihiko and every single one of their conversations, almost, breaks down into: Akihiko says something about protein or fighting, Shinjiro calls him dumb, repeat. Shinjiro clearly has wisdom and common sense, but he seems to restrain himself from actually imparting it compared to the likes of Makoto, Haru, Ryuji, Naoto or Akechi. The result is he makes less of an impact because he’s the character of the main cast who most visibly feels like he’s withholding himself from the group. He’s like Akechi but more so. Akechi also, in the game, can come across as if he’s minimizing his interactions, but he doesn’t do it quite as much as Shinjiro. 

[mc-amps]

The Wacky Adventures of Seven McDonald

Here it is~ My fic for @mysmehalloweenzine They’re having their leftovers sale rn, so be sure to check it out if you missed your chance to preorder. https://mysmehalloweenzine.storenvy.com/ It’s totally worth the purchase ;)

My fic was also illustrated by the amazing @nanashiart​ I’m seriously blessed that she agreed to collab. Her illustrations really did bring my fic to life <3

Pairing: 707xMC

Rating: Everyone

Warnings: Spoops and elixir +_+

“Are you sure this is okay?”

Seven’s heart jumped at her whisper. He talked to her on the phone many times before, and yet, without the static filtering her voice, everything was different. The CCTV’s low quality, grainy veil was lifted, and there she was: flesh, blood, and soft warmth walking beside him through the dark and decrepit hallway.

“What do you mean? It’s a haunted house! It’s made to walk in and explore.” So why was Seven’s heart beating so fast? It wasn’t the rotting wood and peeling wallpaper along with the bevy of spider webs dangling above that put him on edge. It wasn’t the dust dancing in the ghoulish glow cast from several lanterns or the gloomy symphony of cicadas and crickets seeping in through the broken windows either. Not even the way the house groaned in agony with every footstep was the culprit.

It started when he picked her up from the apartment. For obvious reasons, he had been nominated to escort the lovely party coordinator to the RFA’s night of Halloween fun and spooks. Spooks indeed. From the moment she answered the door, his stomach twisted itself in knots.

Was his brain malfunctioning?

“Or is there haunted house etiquette I’m not aware of?” He put his hands on his hips in a dramatic stance.

“Don’t you think it’s weird there was no one to let us in? You walked in on your own.” She huffed and folded her arms with a pout. The gesture was arguably unbefitting of her princess costume, yet the frilly dress and tiara was perfect for the lovable Princess of the RFA.

Seven shrugged. “Didn’t Jumin pick out this place? He probably wanted something authentic and spoopy. OooOOOOooo~” He wiggled his yellow, gloved fingers to emphasize the spoop factor.

“. . .we could’ve waited for the others.“ Her lips twitched as she muffled a chuckle.  

“What?” Seven asked with a suspicious grin.  

“You! I can’t take you seriously when you’re dressed like that!” She burst into a fit of giggles. “Why Ronald McDonald of all things?”

Seven guffawed. Her laughter was too contagious. “Cause I wanted to see everyone’s reaction! You think anyone’s scared of clowns? My bet is Zen~” He adjusted his curly, red wig and tugged at his bright, yellow jumpsuit.

“Zen!?” She wheezed.

“Yep. He hates cats, so why not clowns too~?” Seven bared his teeth. “Grrrr~ Fast food clown!” The white paint on his face, red lips and nose, minus the glasses made him look completely different. The RFA wouldn’t know what hit them. “Oh! Oh! Let’s hide and scare ‘em!”

“Alright. I’ll bet you five candies Zen won’t get scared.”

“Oh, you’re on!”

Holding back laughter, they decided to hide in a bedroom. A musty, revolting odor permeated the air. Dusty debris littered the floor and bed, along with fake blood spattered everywhere, most notably on the tattered curtains.

But there was something nostalgic. . .

Seven shook those thoughts away as the two huddled near a dust coated table. A picture frame sat on top of the grime. It held a photo of a woman. Her lips were curved into a coy smile and her eyes glittered. The part that stood out the most was her long, wavy hair. Oddly, she looked similar to the princess next to him.

He was about to point that out, but stopped short when he realized how close she stood, practically pressing against him. He shifted awkwardly, but then flinched and threw his arms around the princess when something slammed, causing her to shriek.

“Whoa! A-are you okay?” His face heated when he realized she clung to him for dear life.

“Was that the door?” She gasped and let go. “Do you think that’s them?”

“Maybe,” Seven whispered, reluctantly scooting back. “Let’s wait and see.”

And wait they did.

And wait.

And wait.

But nothing happened. “Are they even here?” She murmured.

Seven was starting to wonder why everything was so quiet. Yoosung should have been screaming, while Jaehee would have been constantly checking on Zen.

“Do you want to text them?” He asked.

“Well, my phone’s been acting up, so I don’t know if there’s something wrong with it, and since someone forgot their hoodie.” She cutely huffed. “We can’t use his phone!”

“Hey. . .!” Seven tried to keep his voice down. “This is the first time I’ve been without my lucky hoodie in. . .in. . years!” He put a hand to his heart and let out an agonized sigh. He kept everything in those oversized pockets. “You should still try texting.”

“I guess.” She grabbed her phone, but froze at the sound of a deep groan.

“Why have you returnnnnned?” The lights waned and flickered with every rasping syllable.

The spooks were starting? Seven’s face lit up. Was there a hidden sound system projecting the voice?

A girlish yelp snapped him from his thoughts. “Did you grab me!?”

“Wha-? No!” Seven lifted his hands as proof.

“You’re kidding. . .” Her face paled. “S-something grabbed me! Ugh!” She shimmied past him and stormed out of the room. “I’m done with this stupid creepy house! I’m waiting for the others!” Her voice echoed along with her stomping footsteps.

“Wait!” Seven followed after, scrambling not to trip over his giant red shoes.

She rushed to the front door and yanked the handles, but it wouldn’t open. “I-it’s stuck!”

“Let me.” Seven tried, causing them to shake and rattle, but the door still wouldn’t budge. With a frustrated grunt, he kicked the wood, but still nothing. Chills ran down his spine. This wasn’t right at all.

“I-I’m calling Jumin.” She shakily tapped her phone, and Seven moved closer to hear. The monotone call tone accompanied by her frantic breathing made for a nauseating combination. Seven held his breath, until a click sounded.

“Yes, this is Jumin Han speaking.”

Never in his life had he been happier to hear that deep, robotic voice.

“J-Jumin!” She gasped, voice wavering. “ Where are you guys?”

“I could ask the same question. We just finished purchasing everyone’s admission.”

“What are you talking about!? There were no tickets or anything and now we’re stuck in here!” She replied almost hysterically.

There was a pause and static. “I don’t quite understand. Security would not have let you two in without tickets. You and Luciel are-?”

“Trapped in this crazy house!” Between her frantic words, a static white noise grew louder, overpowering Jumin’s voice.

“Where- ou- ry-“

“Jumin? Are you still there? Jumin!” She nearly sobbed.

The static-filled garble morphed into a cackle. “Sorry, Princess, but the RFA won’t be able to help you this time~” A new voice interrupted with a menacing snicker.

Seven snatched up the phone. “Hey! Who the heck are you, and how do you know about the RFA?”

“Turn around and maybe you’ll find out~” He said before hanging up.

Dread filled Seven as he looked back. A figure stepped out of the shadows, slender and clad in black. His bleached hair glowed in the moonlight like a halo, yet his green eyes were wide and demonic. A mask covered his nose and mouth, but the folds revealed a manic smile underneath. Perhaps the most striking part was the chainsaw he held. With a high pitched cackle, he revved it up.

“If you want all of your limbs intact, you’d both better come with me. Without fighting.”

They had to surrender. The man shut off the chainsaw, but carried it as he led them into a empty room with a couple chairs and a bookshelf on the far wall. He ordered them to sit.

“Did you like my surprise?” Edgy chainsaw man grabbed some rope. “You should have seen your faces~” He cooed, before cracking up. “It was great!” He started with the princess, tying her torso to the chair. “You probably had no idea I hacked your GPS, right?” He moved on to her hands, holding her wrists together before tying them. “I was hoping to get you alone, but no matter.” His hands moved with gentle and skillful care, but Seven hated the way they lingered on her waist and brushed against her skin. The man soon finished and his eyes narrowed into something dangerous as he approached Seven.

“I won’t let you stop me from taking her to Paradise, clown boy.”

Seven held his knuckles together as the rope tightened around him in hopes of being able to get loose later. Anything to make up for his failure in protecting the princess.

“You’re the one who talked in that spooky voice and locked the door?” She snapped, legs shaking.

“Huh?” Their edgy captor tilted his head to the side. “Spooky voice?”

“Yeah,” Seven said. “You were like ooooOOOoo. . .Why did you returnnn or something like thaaaaat. . .”

The man raised an eyebrow before scowling. “You’re both trying to distract me. I’m not stupid, so stop belittling me!” he hissed before digging in his pocket. In an instant, his anger switched to unhinged glee when he pulled out a piece of candy wrapped in black foil. “Trick or treat, Princess~” He unwrapped it, revealing dark chocolate coated with teal frosting. “Now be a good girl and say ‘ahh~’” He cooed, however his eyes glinted with mischief as he leaned closer and pinched the chocolate between his long fingers.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she turned her head away. The man didn’t give up and pushed the chocolate against her mouth. “Nnf!” She whimpered as her lips formed a thin line.

“Hmm…” The edgy man cocked his head. “Don’t be scared. Once you eat this, you’ll never have to worry about anything ever again.”

Seven’s stomach churned.

“Here. We can share~” The man pulled down his mask, revealing a wide smirk. With a snicker, he popped the chocolate in his mouth, holding it between his teeth. He then set a hand on the chair’s arms and the other grabbed her face.

“Hey!” Seven’s blood boiled. “Don’t touch her!”

A muffled snicker escaped the edgy man as he dug his fingers into her cheeks, forcing her mouth open. The corners of his lips twitched into a victorious smirk, and his eyes shut as he leaned in, bringing the chocolate to her mouth.

Nononono! With a panicked grunt, Seven wiggled and jerked, ignoring the burn of the rough braids.

“S-seh-ehn-!” she cried as the gap between her mouth and the chocolate shrank.

Seven’s struggled more as the rope loosened. A smoke bomb could distract the man, then Seven’s knife would cut the remaining ropes. His wrist ripped free! Fueled by adrenaline, he dug into his pocket and flung out-

Candy.

Just like his phone, all of his other trinkets were in his hoodie pockets.

The colorful array of sweets bounced off man’s tattooed shoulder, causing him to pause.. His eyes widened with awe, and the teal chocolate fell from his mouth just as everything went black.

“You dare taunt me with these two mennnnn?” That same voice from before wailed as a blue fireball appeared, casting a ghostly glow.

The princess screamed when her chair tipped backwards and scraped across the floor.

“No!” Seven clawed at the remaining ropes, but to avail. He was useless.

The chair slammed backwards into the bookcase and her legs flailed upwards. “H-h-help mee-ee-eee!” Her shriek came out bumpy as the bookshelf spun, pushing her to the other side with a loud slam.

“Give her back! ” Edgy chainsaw man chased after her, but crashed into the bookcase. “She’s mine!” He pounded and kicked at the wood, causing several books to fall.

The fireball vanished, leaving them shrouded in inky darkness. Seven squinted as his eyes adjusted to the blackness. The edgy man fell to his knees, fingers gripping his hair. Shallow, frantic breaths filled the air.

“Are you. . .afraid of the dark?” Seven whispered.

“No!” The man snapped. Stray strands of moonlight illuminated his pale face. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. . .Sav. . .ior. . .” He babbled to himself.

“H-hey.” Seven cleared his throat. “Uh. If you untie me, then we can save her together.”

The man pulled his mask back on before narrowing his eyes. “And why shouldn’t I kill you, clown boy?”

“B-because,” Seven blurted the first thing that came to mind. “You can have all my candy. They’re all limited edition and rare. Don’t ask where I got them!” He was rambling, but needed to survive. For her sake.

The man eyed the candies on the floor. “. . .Fine.”

Chainsaw man cut Seven’s ropes and the two inspected the bookshelf. It was clearly a trapdoor they couldn’t activate. Did it only work with ghosts? “What about your chainsaw?” Seven asked.

“Good thinking, clown boy!” The man’s eyes glowed with violent glee, and with a cheerful snicker, he grabbed his chainsaw and shoved Seven out of the way before revving it. His laughter erupted into manic cackles as he cut into the wood. A cloud of sawdust filled the air while a hole formed and grew. “You messed with the wrong people, ghost!” He kicked  down the rest of the wood, revealing a large room with a fireplace. There the captured princess sat, still tied to the chair, but safe.

A frustrated growl came from a willowy shadow bathed in a blue glow. The ghost. “It wasn’t enough for you to leave me for dead, but now you taunt me with these mennn?” He pointed a bony finger at Seven and the chainsaw man. “Perhaps once you suffer and die like I did, I’ll able to move on to the after lifffffe.” A humorless chuckled rumbled as he snapped his fingers. The fireplace erupted to life with an inferno of blue fire.

She gasped and flailed against the ropes when her chair scooted backwards. “No! Please!” Her scream was almost as high pitched as the scape of the chair against the wood.

“No!” Seven barreled past chainsaw man and tackled  the chair away from the blazing fires. Pain shot up his knee upon landing, but he didn’t care. “Are you okay!?”

Her chest heaved and her face glistened with sweat, but she smiled and nodded.

Seven’s insides tingled with a fuzzy warmth. “It’s okay now,” he whispered. “You’re safe.” He brushed away a strand of hair from her face, but the buzz of the chainsaw interrupted him. With a wild cackle, chainsaw man swung at the ghost, but  stumbled and cursed when the weapon went through the ethereal being.

“I’ve had enough of thisss!” Smoke oozed from the ghost. “If these men will interfere, then so be it!” Several floating fireballs appeared throughout the room, causing the temperature to spike and the air to distort with heat. “I’ll burn down this entire place, taking all of you with me!”

“Please don’t!” Her eyes filled with tears. “This isn’t the answer! But. . . if you want, hurt me instead, not Seven and this other guy. They did nothing wrong!”

Seven’s lungs constricted. Why was she sacrificing herself? She was so kind hearted. Not someone who would abandon anyone.

Not someone like him.

“You’ve got the wrong person!” He shouted. “Your lover left you? That wasn’t her. She’d never do that! From the moment I first met her, she’s been nothing but sweet and caring. She listens to our problems and puts up with a lot of crap like chatrooms at three in the morning! I know without a doubt she’d never abandon or betray anyone!”

Her eyes grew watery as her expression softened. “Please believe me, I’m not who you think I am, but. . .I’m so sorry that happened. No one deserves to go through the pain you did. I-I wish I could help you. . .!” Her voice cracked and her lips quivered.

There was a pause and Seven was sure they were all going to die, but then the flames dwindled one by one. “I see,” the ghost’s voice softened. “Revenge may not be the answer. It’s strange.” He lifted a hand to his chest. “I feel. . .warm? Is this what moving on feels like? I wish I had met someone like you instead of that woman. Perhaps my life would have been much longer and happier.”

Seven’s heart flip flopped.

“Thank. . .you. . .” The ghost faded, leaving the three of them in the dark silence

Not wasting another moment, Seven untied her, before helping her stand. His cheeks burst into flame when she hugged him tightly.

“Thank you so much for saving me!”

Seven returned the embrace. Why was it so hot in here? Slowly, his shoulders relaxed and he squeezed her tighter. “I-I don’t know what I would have done if something happened.”

“Seven,” she whispered as she pulled back.

He got lost in her eyes as their magnetic force tugged him closer. What was this feeling? Was this…? His lips parted and he closed his eyes.

Wailing sirens broke the spell.

Edgy chainsaw man cursed under his breath and shoved his hands into his candy filled pockets. “This is my cue to leave,” he stomped towards the nearest window. However, before he climbed out, he turned and burst into hysterical laughter. “I’ll come back and visit you soon, Princess~”

Seven joined in on the laughter. This edgy dude had a hilarious laugh. “Hey! I hope you visit me too! I’ll have more candy for you- Oh! And Honey Buddha Chips. You’ve gotta try those!”

The man jolted, then shrugged. “I guess you’d make a good Believer too, Clown Boy.” With that, he jumped out of the window as blue and red flashing lights filled the dark room.

“Guess, the cavalry came,” Seven chuckled.

She grinned and nodded. “The real question is if Jumin was the one who sent them. Wanna change our bet to that?”

“No way! I still wanna scare Zen-gwuh!” Seven sputtered in shock when she took his hand and tugged him towards the door with a sweet giggle. His pulse pounded in his ears louder than the sirens and for a split second, he thought he might faint.

“Happy Halloween, Seven~”

A/N: This was really fun to write. Honestly, it had been a lot longer, but I had to cut out several thousand words in order to fit the zine's wordcount;;; Still, I think tightening it was for the better. I also couldn't resist adding Unknown. From the moment I applied to the zine, i knew I wanted to write something with Unknown and a haunted house +_+ The elixir chocolate scene was sjfkdsjfkdsfj yum +_+

Anyways, am I the only one that remembers those old Ronald McDonald cartoons? The 90's ones? That's where I got the title from. Does anyone remember the haunted house episode? Good times lol (Seriously. Let me know if you remember it, because nobody in the zine server did sjflksfjdsjfds)

[suzahmoon]

Unpublished - On Don Hertzfeldt’s film, ‘World of Tomorrow’

Maybe it was the timing of when I watched World of Tomorrow, in an IFC movie theater set up for thirty but filled with one, forcing me to feel incredibly alone while I watched it but with a sense of “together-alone” because that’s all we are, alone together. But that doesn’t change the fact that no matter where or when you watch this film, it’s ability to reach its viewer is more than likely to be strong. It’s classic Hertzfeldt in that way, bold and persistent, slightly in your face but always genuine. It might make you uncomfortable if “about life” movies aren’t your thing, but it’s short, smartly timed, and comedically light hearted enough to balance out the heaviness of its subject matter. Really, the four-year old voice makes all the difference. Watch it on Vimeo for a $3.99 rental or on Netflix where it’s streaming free if you’re not paying for your own account. Or you could look it up illegally but it could fuck up your computer, and I’m just saying that because that happened to me once. However you watch it, I hope you do. It’s a movie that lingers with you for days and at random moments when you think you’ve forgotten about it, but that’s because it’s a movie about living. There’s only so much we can forget before it forces us to stop ourselves.

If you’ve seen any of Don Hertzfeldt’s work before, the first thing you probably saw was Billy’s Balloon. Small children are attacked by balloons. Or if you didn’t see that, maybe you saw one of his shorts from Rejected or maybe even all of them: a collection of poorly made shorts that are rejected by advertising agencies. They all suck from a marketing perspective since belittling a company you want to work for’s product won’t get you the job, much less sell the product, but that’s the point. Hertzfeldt’s work is characterized by black humor, surrealism, absurdist ideas, and the bigger philosophical ideas, the “why are we here and where am I going?” concepts. It’s all told through an old school 16 mm lens shooting stick figure drawing after stick figure drawing, a style that’s characterized Hertzfeldt’s animations and made his stories reach an international audience. I never would have thought drawing the stuff we were told would not pass as human anatomy would be so globally effective, but I guess that’s why I like it.

World of Tomorrow is Hertzfeldt’s most recent work to date. It’s a 17-minute animation that’s an upgrade from his stop-motion shorts of yesterday with their digital production and dreamy watercolor backdrops. His trademark stick figure characters are still there, voiced by illustrator Julia Pott and his then-four-year old niece. It features a young girl named Emily and her third-generation clone from the future, making World of Tomorrow Hertzfeldt’s first sci-fi film. You could argue his last feature It’s Such a Beautiful Day was actually his first sci-fi, with its touches on questions of time, space, illusion, and reality, but World of Tomorrow is much more direct in its approach. It explores topics of time travel, the limitations of human invention, and artificial versus actual flesh and bone human life, told with the juxtaposition of a robotic British clone’s voice against a young girl’s lively one. The film is full of juxtapositions, and that’s why it works. It’s a film about things adults like to think about and read books on, and college students go ham writing thesis papers on, but it’s told in the most elementary way possible to someone who has no idea what the big fuss is about.

In Emily Clone telling the young Emily we call Emily Prime why she’s coming to visit her, she explains the big answer to questions of human continuation and preservation. According to her, there are other planets involved, robots, and memory encapsulation. Emily Clone falls in love with different objects and things before falling in love with a fellow clone until he dies. “You missed him,” Emily Prime innocently observes. Emily Clone blinks, and moves on. Despite all of these futuristic advancements, it’s clear that what Hertzfeldt is trying to say is that the value of being human never changes. To feel, fall in love, and experience loneliness never go away, and it’s these things that make us painfully, beautifully human. Time is of the essence, and we shouldn’t worry ourselves over petty or trivial matters, she tells Emily Prime, but she’s really talking to all of us, as Hertzfeldt always is.

[ourmkatworld-blog]

My Personhood isn’t Determined by Your Gaze

“prior to the infusion of Western notions into Yoruba culture, the body was not the basis of social roles, inclusions, or exclusions; it was not the foundation of social thought and identity.” (The Invention of Women: Making an African Sense of Western Gender Discourses, x)

“The constant in this Western narrative is the centrality of the body: two bodies on display, two sexes, two categories persistently viewed — one in relation to the other. That narrative is about the unwavering elaboration of the body as the site and cause of differences and hierarchies in society.” (Visualizing the Body: Western Theories and African Subjects, 7)

“To these women, irua ria atumia did not brutalize their bodies and sexuality – colonizers and their various agents did.” (Irua Ria Atumia and Anti-Colonial Struggles Among the Gı˜ku˜yu˜ of Kenya: A Counter Narrative on “Female Genital Mutulation”, 691)

“Orphaned beginnings” exist in all three of these readings due to the forcible act of erasing gender and sex before the Western ideology. In many of the cases, the association of the physical body didn’t have the same connotations as the hierarchy presented today. The Western infatuation with the body stems from creating the flesh into a social or political being. Titles and categories such as “woman” and “man” stemmed from the hierarchy that existed in Western countries. They transcribed this association and hierarchy on places that it didn’t previously existed and attempted to stamp out the original thoughts and associations with respect to the body. No longer was it a vessel, but now it had a political statement—and with that, it belittled the position of woman or anyone else that was “Other”. In the Preface, Oyeronke Oyewumi attests to this in relation to how the category “woman” wasn’t the same in the Yoruba culture pre- and post-colonialism. How they were pre-colonialism was effectively almost eradicated; both due to the physical influence and in the body of thought when telling about Yoruba culture. In her Chapter 1, she further emphasizes this detachment by accounting the spread of this “universal” gazing. Because of the availability of the body, gaze became an action, and in it’s stead, came differentiations based on form. Those who considered themselves “thinkers”—even those who had the intent to act with good intention, like feminists—spread the idea that the Western gender ideology was consistent universally. They acted as though theories could operate as mechanical tools, rather than meant to frame thoughts, but even in framing, it reduced other views in relation to bodies. As she wrote, gender is like beauty in that the “eye of the beholder” is the claimer of this categorical system—yet we are still reduced on forms to limitations such as “sex assigned at birth” when this assignment is also socially constructed. The murder of differing relationships with the body is also described by Wairimu Njambi. She assaults this effort to sponge away other schools of thought as they concern female genital mutilation. There is the assertion from those who are of “Western bodies” to think of the action of FGM to be acts of dominance by males and “barbaric”. What is ignored is the female perception of going through the action. In the case she presents, this action is accepted by women and a choice—one that establishes their womanhood, asserts their sexuality, and allowed them to combat colonialism. It is not the FGM that is the violent action against the body, but colonialism both in physical violence and cultural in its reduction of the body to being another’s property in thought.

The haunted power dynamic is directly tied to gender this week. The monstrous present is not gender though; but in how gender is constructed and what this does to those who are labelled not cis-males. Those with the power in the construction were European males, and the relationships to bodies became about whether what you had was an addition, or if it degraded/reduced your personhood. Not only is gender socially constructed, but it altered the form of the flesh to be a social-issue as well. Bodies and gender dictated the social power of a person in typical Western societies, and when they went on the hunt through imperialism, they brought this idea with them. Anything that countered it was thus an attack against them and their ways and had to be eliminated. The Yoruba culture emphasized age as the typical indicator of your place in the hierarchy. The body had just been that: a body. Colonialism used the body as another instrument of creating power and with it, creating divisions they understood and could use.

The “Glossary of Haunting” requires an addition in relation to gender, or if not the word itself as part of the glossary, it needs to be added under the definition of colonialism. Gender has clear ties in colonialism. As seen in the Yoruba community, there was no relation to the body in the same way post-colonialism. In her Chapter 1, the act of gazing was brought with the colonialism expansions. They spread the ideology in how they treated people and in how communities were taught and described. In the slave trade, the basis of a person was reduced to pre-described gender which was created based upon seen or unseen physical features. This determined the effectiveness on the field. Determined the person’s strength or their intelligence. Women were further reduced. Reduced from having the leadership in the cultivation of crops. Reduced into how effective they were at breeding and reproducing another strong work force. Another strong work force of men. Not of more women. Thus, every action drew a relation from being female or male. But this is not how it was before. Njambi’s writing emphasizes that it wasn’t the flesh that was influencing these women’s lives but colonialism. The FGM wasn’t what was harming them, it was the colonialism and the violence experienced from that. Even the protests about FGM wasn’t because of the action itself but came about from propaganda from Westerners because the action of mutilation and the ritual that they went through afterwards (both sexes) was a possible conflict in the ease of converting these populations to Christianity. It wasn’t the actions themselves. It was the threat it would present to their way of life. The exploration of sexual passions was thus deemed “primitive”. But the FGM couldn’t be separated from the oath that both women and men undertook to fight colonialism. Undergoing FGM was an act of bravery—it was an indicator of the bravery that would exist in this person’s life when confronted with other experiences. It is an integral part of this community. Yet, in terms of Western ideology, it is an action that degrades women. If we understand that this is a product of colonial haunting, then we realize that the action and thoughts around the body are not as black-and-white as they want to make it.

These readings have similar images of a liberatory future that can be visualized when reading. It’s when gender stops becoming a tool for others. When the body isn’t reduced to a social or political position that either gains or reduces the personhood of that person. Nor is it the place of others to assume what the person’s association to their body is. Who is the determiner of your “sex at birth?” This robot future is when we can view actions like FGM as not simple actions, but things that are drenched in cultural importance and history and are not centered around Western relationships of sex. Just because of the external appearances of a person or community, that does not determine their relationship with power. We need to understand that there are other associations (like those presented in historical contexts of the Yoruba community).

I believe that there is a future where this could take place. It is hard to differentiate the body from the position of power—I’m not sure I believe there will be a full 180 switch to where having a penis doesn’t give you some extra piece of peace in society (like walking alone at night *cough cough*)—but I do believe that with the discussions we are having today, we can see a reduction in the emphasis of the need to categorize by flesh. Rather than dressing other’s in our gaze, it will be the duty to stop the unnecessary formations of quick heuristics that are simply to make our jobs easier (lazier) when dealing with others. This liberatory future is when the necessity to categorize other’s based upon commonalities of physical reproductive parts is possible—but all the associations and indications of power afterwards will be harder to accomplish. It will require far more brain effort than many are willing to give. It will require understanding that just because we allow choice on gender does not mean we are not disrespecting others when we also have sex and force these same people to indicate “what they were assigned at birth”. That is not where our place lies. It lies in allowing people to establish their own personhood and that physicality are not an indicator of the person, skill, ability, intelligence, etc.

 I am not

an object of my flesh

when you look

upon me

Is it just my eyes you see

what about you let’s you

see my dreams?

Do you see my sense of self?

                               it’s been lost

                               along the way

               lost

to those eyes that feel they can determine

what I can do

               where I can go

                               how safe I feel

because of what lies between my legs

 Why is it

I am so different from you

               because of whether something hangs or hides?