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runningwithhellhounds · 3 years

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Theo, across recent timescapes. Theo x life: a series of impressions.

Theo is an invasive agent in Hayden's sensory collection. She's trying to not pay him any mind.

She also tried to erase his self-importance by pretending he didn't exist when she knew he watched with his bridge-burn eyes as she and Liam kissed. Found success in his uncharacteristic silence in a moment that was ruinable.

They are standing in dappled shadows on the forest ground, waiting for Liam, who ran ahead to make a call out of Theo's earshot. Theo is sitting by a tree with his knees up and loosely spread, with his hands in between them. His hands, chained: it's simplest hazard control. Effective, though. Hayden feels spiteful as she's walking left to right, throwing a palm-sized rock from hand to hand. Theo looks bored, irked.

''Where are you going to, little Red Riding Hood?'' Theo addresses her, smooth to self-entertain, making her stop mid-throw, causing the rock to hit her palm and fall on the ground. She picks it up and mimes throwing it at him. Success unfound, in how he doesn't flinch. Success unfound, in how he's making this into a story about a little girl and a sneaky wolf.

She considers him. If answering at all would cater to his amusement, or lesser his situational unpleasantries, which she's trying to avoid. But Theo is in the midway of doing nothing and determined to draw attention to himself, the way he has been.

''We're out of flowers, I'm afraid. Would you like some redwood wood, instead?'' Theo offers in a made-pleasant public service voice. Hayden notices that he's siding with the forest, here, scuttling into its floors where he has found purchase through extended stay.

''You know all the tree species?'' Hayden asks. Takes a bite and wills it into a treat for herself, rather than bait. Theo probably meant the tall and non-wiggly tree he's sitting against; Hayden wonders if he ever studied forestry, or if this is werewolfery knowledge.

''I know better things, too. If you come closer, I'll whisper them to you.'' He grins. Lifts his chained wrists as he adds, ''No pressure, though.''

Hayden considers him. Again and again. This is, she guesses, learnt prudency; a refined taste for justice, maybe. Guesses resurrection does that to you.

''Warning, beware of dog,'' she says.

Theo looks at her, eyes hooding and mouth neutralising. He shrugs, looks sideways. Attention, lost. Trade, declined. Secretful threat traded for blankness, if anything. Hayden, it seems, does not entertain in Theo-ways.

—

Theo Raeken, it turns out, has a finitude to his spread of catastrophe. Sheriff Stilinski watches cross-armed as running-mouth-boy exposes the culprits of murder; aggravates them like it's his best expertise until they say things they tried not to say and so saves his own slate from police-worthy additions.

Stilinski watches as Theo, for some inexplicable reason, lingers in the police department. Theo is sitting on one of the reception benches, eating a bag of mixed nuts from the vending machine. One would think it's ill-advised, that as soon as Parrish released him, Theo asked Parrish to buy him some goods from the vending machine, said he was detained unfairly. Deprived of food for this short but uneasy time. Didn't have his belongings on him. But it mustn't be nonsensical; it must be some behavioural tactic of making himself appear unconcerned. As having clear consciousness, innocence, all of those.

Stilinski resumes watching through the screen as Theo's chewing slows down when an officer with a police dog walks to the machine. He watches Theo's frowned, suffering, doubtful expression, staring into the dog's eyes like he can't take the dog seriously. The officer stops fishing change out of his wallet with a metal scoop in his cupped hand to shoot Theo a questioning look.

''Everything alright, son?'' the officer jingles the change in his hand, looking Theo over.

Theo's gaze doesn't even change when he looks up. Doesn't turn into a stranglehold of a gaze, either. ''Does your dog bite?''

The officer considers Theo, the sagged, unruffled spectre of him.

''No need to worry,'' he assures. Starts inserting the coins. He then turns to Theo in an afterthought. ''Is someone picking you up? You need anything?''

''Oh,'' Theo breathes, ''for real? Would you? Just something to eat? I've been stuck here waiting.''

Stilinski watches as Theo picks up a protein bar from the machine drawer. Flavoured water, a second later. Probably, apathy comes easily to him. He must not think in any understandable way; rather, he must think unfeelingly. Kid's got— not a care in the world.

—

Liam is holding a bouquet and inspecting its flowery contents. Frowning at the petals he's scraping at, glowering at the buds he's poking.

In the aftermath of the ceremony ran on the anniversary of Liam's school in the decorated sports hall, his mother is standing by the chairs in unison with another boy watching her son.

She knows him from a photo Liam showed her, a boy new in the school, softly named: Theo. It was evident that Liam took the photo discreetly, which she commented on and which Liam denied. She notes the distance at which Theo keeping and approaches him.

''Don't worry, he's not keeping secrets from his friends,'' she says. ''He doesn't have a girlfriend, at least not that I know of. I was the one who gave him the flowers.''

''Oh?'' Theo says. ''I see.''

He puts his hands in his pockets. He's probably shy. This happens sometimes, with high-school boys, they can become clumsy with themselves. She feels motherly talking to them in moments like this; motherly and pleasant in her efforts to engage adolescents when they are dithering.

''I think he's reconciling masculinity with flowers,'' she comments.

He smiles. Smirks, more like it. They must be close.

''Good colour choice,'' he comments on the orange of the flowers.

She nudges his arm. ''Go talk to him when they're done taking photos.''

Theo shakes his head, shrugs once. ''Nah. I will be leaving soon, anyway,'' he says, and she drops her hand from his arm. He's probably a little shy.

—

Mediterranean sunrise comes with a surprise: a man awakening on the ground a few steps from the barely-formed footpath. A man, or maybe younger, his Mediterranean awakening accompanied by the smell of fig trees, and all. Kind red soil.

He's naked. He's slowly wiping a hand across his lips. You know, suddenly, that this is a complication. The circumstance makes his body looks like an involuntarily stripped body. Perspective changes: red soil is now needled soil. Acrid tones sour the sunrise.

''Hey,'' you call, stepping closer in your sandals and a coral-printed towel around your neck, feeling unsuitable for the demands of the situation. ''Hey. Are you okay? Should I call the police?''

He's pushing himself up. Not looking at you. Not mindful of the resin at his back. This is indicative, you think, of something, because you're mindful of the way road dust is making your hair dry and webby, while his attention is this narrow, or overall absent.

He looks up, then, at you. ''What?''

A surprise gifted by a foreign agency; not Italian, then. You switch to English and try to make it not clumsy.

''I'll call the police for you,'' you assure him. Scramble to find your phone in your tote bag.

''D'n't call th'police,'' he says. He isn't trying to cover where his body is exposed.

''I don't want to assume anything,'' you say, feeling odd and performative. ''But— Look. I can just call the emergency number and they can direct you to a centre for sexual assault.''

Body, bodily manuscripted into the soft soil. He looks like he's processing slowly. Gets distracted inspecting his hands. Is that blood, you wonder, realise, really, it all just getting worse and fraughter. In between his fingers.

''Don't call th'police,'' he says. ''Was jus' drunk.''

''Is that blood? On your fingers.''

''I jus'. D'n't call. Did s'me things I shouldn't have.'' He reads your face, then says, ''Not like that. T'myself.''

Heat is lowering to the grounds of the morning and your sandals are light on your feet, escape-hairs pleasant, pine trees your favourite. And the hostility-seen boy is trying to act alright.

''It's okay,'' you say, wondering if it is; something complicated about the okayness of not-okay. You squat down, to balance the eye heights. ''I can call the hotline for—''

''No, n't—. Just stupid, no police. Please.''

''Do you want some water,'' you say, taking it out of your bag, and he takes it. Uncaps and smells it, blinking with his nose above the bottle opening, before he shakes his head a little, and starts drinking. Your phone is still in your hand, but you're unsure. You give him your second non-swimly shorts and wait until he overcomes his hesitance and gingerly takes them.

''You don't have to tell me,'' you insist. ''But I'm sure that there's someone who—''

''Thanks. It's okay, you can go now.'' He starts moving to get the shorts on, then swiftly straightens his back, inhaling deeply and looking up. Must be avoiding some hidden ache.

You hesitate, phone in your hand, legs starting to feel stiff from the position.

''I could drive you someplace. My car is ten min—''

''Thanks, but I'm okay now. You can't help,'' he interrupts. There are cases like this one, right, people using caustic means for secret-maintaining ends.

''Are you sure?'' you press. ''I could go away while you're talking to—''

''You're not helping,'' he says, monotone now, now operative and controlled to be alkaline. He's looking at your eyes fixedly, and you stop hesitating. ''You should go.''

Ground gives. You shake your head and start walking away, leaving him with your shorts and thinking then good fucking luck, honey.

You turn back one more time. He's looking at you leaving with unfocused glossy eyes, and you wonder, surely not for the last time, how deeply and stickily swamp-lodged he must be.

—

A hot guy is walking in the chest-high sea and doing little dives. Grazing the water surface with his fingertips in between and wiping salt from his eyes, before diving again and re-salting his eyes, like some deliberately mindless-seeming cyclical mechanism. Salt for maintenance, salt a nuisance.

Now he bends his knees and only submerges up to his chin, and you imagine he's sensing freshness at his nape.

''You just have to relax,'' you say loudly from where you come to stand in the water to your ankles, ''and you can probably hold your breath for longer than that.''

He stands up and turns until he spots you. You walk closer until the water is at your waist and he's looking at you like someone unexpectedly interrupted. Unexpectedly perceived, unfortunately. A popular kid being addressed by an unpopular one.

''You wanna teach me how to swim?'' he asks and smirks a little, and you shrug.

''If you feel like you can't stay underwater for more than five seconds, it's probably because you're panicking. You can hold your breath comfortably for at least fifteen seconds, I dare say.''

He looks at the glistening in the water, looking weary.

''Can I,'' he says, more of a response made to be unrevealing than a question.

''One thing I'll say,'' you say, untying your hair to avoid breaking it when it will be wet and to be casual, maybe; mitigate the upfrontness and possible insinuation, ''is that your body looks mad functional. Don't take this in any funky way.''

''I won't,'' he says.

—

Theo is in no space. Some telephone line space.

Should I be taking this personally, Liam texts him. He knows that Theo has been straightforwardly ignoring his messages. He hopes, actually; hopes Theo hasn't run into any of his long-known non-friends who see his face as a face, fanged, and not eyes, often confused, tongue, often tied, responses, often belated. Hopes that Theo isn't not answering because of some surviving anachronism from his past, but rather because of something new. That would be more manageable.

He also hopes that Theo isn't not answering because he is succumbing to his self-damaging instincts, even though that would mean simmering resentment towards Liam; even though that would likely be the best possible option in the precarious array of options in Theo's life.

Liam texts, did you know that if space was infinitely big and infinitely old, it would be white? I don't really get why, do you?

—

You have a boy couched in your living room. His name is Theo. Picked him up on a staff-only fire escape. It would be a leisurely sight, now, a tracksuit-hoodie-boy sitting right next to a drying rack, which he said he didn't mind. If it wasn't for your rapid heart. Heart: heated, speaking in unit-free measures. Heat: a smooth, unfibrous thing.

''May I,'' he murmurs, and you lean in.

It's a classic student situation: a breathless undertaking to the backtune of wine in tea mugs. He selected a Sierra Nevada mug with a setting sun. Came with the flat.

''Add me on Facebook,'' you say. The two of you haven't even done much, but you feel so hooked, by the fire-escape boy who moves in a way so self-assured and touches indoor objects warily. ''Or Instagram. Wherever you want.''

''I don't use social media,'' he says. He uses his hold on your hand and your finger to push his hair out of his eye. You like the way it parts and hits his temples.

''Phone number?'' You suggest, more joking than not. Exchanging phone numbers feel more joke-like than not.

''No phone number,'' he says. Must see your expression, shrugs and says, ''Guess I'm too old for technology.'' He smirks at the dry look you shoot at him, knowing your age of twenty-three to his twenty-two. He's saying too old and you don't buy it. He carries no weariness in his jaguar body. He takes his lower lip in his mouth. ''What if,'' he then says, ''I'm a vampire.'' He touches the tip of his tongue to his upper teeth.

''My favourite paranormal activity,'' you say.

''Too bad,'' he says, grinning. You look at his ajar lips and think: too bad.

''Your canines are sharp, though,'' you say. ''At least.''

He grins wide. Pointedly and slowly leans towards your neck with an open mouth, until teeth make contact. You feel your smile dropping when his phone beeps. He hesitates for a beat and then leans his forehead on your chin, just breathing there, and you know you are both thinking about him saying no phone number.

''But none for me,'' you say. Because of all the places your bodies have been touching, a beat of silence means: five heartbeats of him staring at his phone, engulfed in the jacket he discarded on the floor by the couch, and you staring at him. And then he leans over, easily shifting your weight, until he can kick the jacket, some, not really achieving anything.

''Another vampire,'' he says, then, on the side of unapologetic. Luckily, you are known to be unresentful. Good at not taking things personally. ''From another brood.'' He places his hands back on your hips.

''Hm,'' you say. It's fine. The monomania of the green-eye boy is temporary. He's hot, but your desire never lasts, anyway.

—

There's a guy on your bus ride, on the opposite side of the passage, one seat forward. Your age. You noticed the generic niceness of his face.

He's drawing a sinusoidal curve on the fogged window. Moves his hand further right, where the window is still fogged. Starts drawing vertical lines, carefully, some methodology to it, the lines parallel to each other. He pauses after he draws four. Huffs, twists his smile into one that is hiding and downturned. He crosses the four lines with one that is horizontal, then adds another vertical line to the side.

You feel yourself smile. He drops his hand, shakes his head a little. Looks through the window at the frost-covered barren brown fields, away from his prisoner day-count. It's funny. He's funny. You look away.

—

It's a short, crude thing. Like this:

A fictitious boy stumbles out of a bare-walled building. Languid, unrestful body. Unleisurely, water-logged body. A tired backstreet play-doh thing. Young.

''Hey,'' you call. ''You. You good?''

The night is warm, humid. A post-rain road construction night. A night for cicadas, if you drive further out.

He inhales in the way of catching breath. Squints at his watch, eyes go glassy. Looks at the moon overhead, then squints at you. And you— you feel awake now.

You look him over, the sugarburn boy with a backwards baseball cap. The trouble of a tooth cavity, which means: okay, if you have some money. Some reckless uncare, too. He's watching you. You inhale slowly, but it turns out all tell-tale anyway. He must see the appeal you feel, in how he licks his lips and tilts his head.

''Interested?'' he asks.

You hesitate. Feel for your jacket pocket with your wallet in it. Lift it without taking it out, clear enough.

He nods. Clears his throat.

''Can you play nice?'' he asks. Teasing, but also not.

You can.

He nods. Looks at his watch. You follow him.

—

You pick up your pretend-sugar fake-care service by a closed ice-cream stand, its inviting light sign shining red on his face. It's raining lightly when you pull up and he doesn't have his hood up like he knows the wet hair strands sticking to his forehead make him look good. In the car, he has no song requests when you ask.

''How can I service you?'' he asks.

—

''What should I call you,'' you ask.

''No need to call me,'' he says.

''What if I want to,'' you admit. Not subtle and elusive. If I may be so bold as to in the back of your mouth.

He pauses, thinks. His gaze is saccading empty spot to empty spot and you know the only type of name you'll get is a fake. You'll take it, as a consolation purchase.

''Theo,'' he says.

—

Alec answers the knock with a toothbrush in his hand.

''Theo. Jesus,'' he breathes.

''Hello,'' Theo responds, overly carefully-crafted for the simplicity of a greeting, but Theo has never carried himself as though he was simple. ''I brought you those,'' he hands Alec paper sheets folded in half. ''I got my hands on some werewolves. Could you give those to Scott?''

It's more automatic than not, when Alec takes and unfolds them. They are black-and-white prints of photographs of ID's.

''You did?'' Alec says, still dumbfounded, still in the act of being interrupted. Habit-mindedness sliced in half. ''How?''

Theo shrugs. His face furrows for a beat, then he fiddles with the door handle, pushing it down twice.

Alec looks at the goods in his hands: a toothbrush, werewolfy profiles. ''Do you want me to tell him that they're from you?''

Theo looks conflicted. That's fair; it's a conflicting state of circumstances, or what is it that Liam told Alec. Maybe Theo turned to Alec because of the implied similarity: both well-accustomed to doing what it takes. Maybe Theo is finding some comfort in that; like Alec would recognise that Theo is a runaway object, or a throwaway one, only having made himself a weapon because he had been made into one first. Like Alec would recognise that Theo is trying to pay his dues. Or maybe Alec is misjudging and Theo isn't seeking comfort at all, which is what Malia thinks. Guess Alec is a little soft for softer scenarios.

''Jesus,'' Alec says again. ''You were gone so long. You didn't say anything. Have you—'' He hesitates, frowns a little. ''Does—Ah, well, you know. Does Liam know?'' He was going for tentative with this one before he swerved. Tending to the habits of skittish wolves.

Theo is looking past Alec's shoulder, distanced and glassy. Alec thinks of dolls, their eyes amiss in that they are unseeing and custom-built. It's a thought too cruel, unless it's sympathetic.

Theo shakes his head, slowly, and exhales, touches his temples with his index fingers, then drops them lower and presses them over his jaw muscles.

''TMJ pain?'' Alec asks.

Theo drops his hands. ''What?''

''Oh. The jaw joint,'' Alec points to his own.

Theo shrugs. ''It's just tender. This muscle,'' he taps.

''Have you been stressed? TMJ problems are common for young people. Can happen because of stress. Stress can cause teeth grinding.'' A clumsy explanation, but Alec can't re-order its parts now, just hopes Theo takes it. Hopes Theo makes his skin onion peel and shows something less dry underneath. And Theo:

Theo looks at him expressionlessly, for a beat, and then exaggeratedly sad-faces. Pouts, closes his eyes, nods slowly. ''I've been stressed,'' he says.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32225941

#teen wolf #theo raeken #thiam #teen wolf fic #for theo-thinkers who hunger #and dont frequent ao3 my home #do you like it any #do you want to buy me a treat yet #i painted a generic boy into my painting and am calling him theo for implied and unclear wolfery

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jj-ktae · 4 years

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Papers, II

Title : Papers Pairing : Park Jinyoung x Fem!Reader Genre : Victorian Era, Romance, Fluff, Angst, smut-ish, Words : 2484 Summary : In the merciless 1850′s, Park Jinyoung finds solace in tiny pieces of paper and their owner. Will be updated every Wednesday at 9 p.m CEST.

Prologue - I -

II,

Jinyoung wouldn’t say he is easy to disconcert. He saw too much to be concerned about trivial issues and his personality took the same way; he cannot be bothered easily.

Still, after recovering from the initial shock, his mind went into chaos. He blamed it on his overly imaginative self even as he tried to understand who the person could be.

She isn’t a student; none of them would wander the school outside of their usual schedule. They call themselves artists but their involvement with their surroundings is close to non-existent.

She can’t be a teacher. There is only one woman teaching and she hasn’t been around lately.

As Jinyoung falls on the slightly ripped couch and breathes the humid ambient air, he comes to the only conclusion he can feel satisfied with.

She has to be one of the persons in charge of keeping the school clean. He had seen a couple of women, all in their forties, walking around with their brooms.

They usually never work during class hours and hug the walls in fear of being noticed covered in dirt.

Jinyoung snorts, it’s not like they are doing the dirty work because the spoiled kids can’t take care of themselves.

So it makes sense. An old lady being bored and finding entertainment in chatting with a young gentleman is not shocking. It’s a good way to go unnoticed.

“I’m hungry,” Jackson cuts his thoughts with a grunt, “all we have are onions.”

“I thought there was bread left…” Jaebeom answers as he starts looking around the minuscule kitchen. He comes back with an old piece of half mouldy bread and tilts his head.

He hates that he even has to fill his stomach.

Money is something that comes in very little among for them. They usually take turns helping around in a small factory nearby but Jackson had to punch one the guy there.

It seems he didn’t like being called the filthy and useless orphan.

“There’s only the mine left.” Jinyoung concludes, “I will go tomorrow and ask if they have something for us. Next time keep your anger to yourself, Jackson.”

He sounds like he is scolding him but he is boiling inside. Jinyoung would have done way worse than a punch but he knows better than to let himself starve. There is only one way to survive and it doesn’t involve fighting for your own principles.

Sadly.

Jackson doesn’t say more but still, he joins Jaebeom. “Let’s just make a soup with the onions.” Jinyoung hears him cough loudly for a good minute before leaning against the couch.

He cannot stand the situation anymore.

He shouldn’t be worried about surviving; he should enjoy youth and have minor problems. He wants to worry about his future for a good reason, he wants to wake up without grimacing at how his stomach hurts.

His childhood was one of an orphan. It started with death and kept being surrounded by it. The orphanage wasn’t only a place of regular beating and fighting, it was also where they took the kids to work.

It was common until recently. Children would work wherever it was needed. The orphanages were the easiest place to find young people without family to put them to work.

From six to thirteen he, Jaebeom and Jackson wandered the coal mines, covered in dust and breathing the disgusting air. Several acts were made, but these applied to the kids with family who could report to the police.

It certainly didn’t apply to orphans whose only guardians were greedy people.

It’s a mystery how they survived, for most the other kids developed diseases or even died while working.

Jinyoung remembers how Jackson would try to protect them by working the most. He would be doing the job of three kids so that Jinyoung and Jaebeom would rest while no one was working. Back then he was already the most robust and lively of them three.

Hearing him cough so loudly puts him in such a state of rage.

There is nothing he can do about it; Jackson is stubborn and keeps on practicing swordsmanship while working an insane number of hours to bring money.

He barely lets them go in his place, explaining they have better things to do, almost begging them to make it with their intelligence and rely on his strength to take them out of here.

Guilt often adds to the number of things Jinyoung worries about.

So he fights, even though literature is annoying, even though he wants to run away and hide somewhere safe.

Jaebeom puts a worn-out bowl of soup in front of him and again, he wants to cry.

The amphitheatre is huge, Jinyoung thinks. They barely ever enter this room as most of their class are held in smaller rooms. The art department takes most of the space since many more students attend their classes.

Painting seems to be much more coveted.

He sits in silence, his shabby-looking bag now on the floor. He never uses it, mostly because it looks like a rag, but also because he hates weighing himself down with useless things. Today though, he has to go and find them a new place to earn money and he can’t risk his notebook falling into coal.

The teacher enters and starts explaining the importance of commas in sentences.

Jinyoung wants to sleep already.

It lasts for what seems like an eternity and Jinyoung ends up trying to find more inspiration. He takes the notes you had left behind in hope it would help and surprisingly it does. He writes five pages of his story. It evolved from the encounter of two people hidden behind pieces of paper to interrogations about the society and what it holds. He kept the identities secret, just like they are in reality.

Jaebeom has to nudge him when the class ends, so he absent-mindedly throws his notebook in the bag and walks away. He should hurry before the mine’s chief leaves.

He apprehends going there but he has no choice. He knows none of them want to go back there but it is the easiest way to get money without dealing with disrespectful people. The mine is like hell but everyone is the same under the ground.

It doesn’t take long to convince the chief. He is glad to find more people willing to risk their lives as apparently, he lost a few recently. The wage isn't big as expected, but it’s enough to eat more than rotten onions and mouldy bread.

“Why do you want to take turns? I’ve got kids working all day here.” The chief doesn’t know how painful these words are.

“We are students, sir.” Is all he answers; he certainly doesn’t want to explain how none of them are going to ruin their lives here daily.

The man is bewildered but he smiles, his dirty teeth appearing. “Why do you want to work here if you have money-”

“We don’t. We are orphans.” Jinyoung cuts through gritted teeth.

The chief ends up laughing so loud that Jinyoung wants to beat him up.

“I see...we can’t have you leech off society, right? Do as you please, I want one of you here every day. Money is once a week.”

Jinyoung takes a deep breath before nodding.

“Starting tomorrow, 8 p.m. until 8 a.m.” is what seals the deal. Jinyoung is absolutely not pleased as he leaves the place.

He is about to go back home when he feels his bag lighter than it is supposed to be.

When he opens it and notices the notebook missing, he runs back into the mine at full speed.

When you hear about the classroom not being used anymore your first reaction is to be relieved. You don’t know why but something seemed abnormal with this gentleman and his questions. You have no idea if he saw your answer but there is no need for you to worry about it anymore.

Life is about to go back to normal and you don’t know if it is for the best or not.

Vivienne has been teasing you about how you had been anticipating this exchange and you had brushed her off, explaining that there is nothing to be excited about.

This could cost more than it could bring.

You enter the numerous rooms one after the others, not without secretly checking under the tables.

It makes you wonder.

What would have been his answer?

Maybe he would have agreed; the rich love being flattered, anyways. He would have written about how true what you answered was, about how the wealthy are the cornerstones of the society and how everyone should be thankful for their hard work.

So yes, it’s probably for the best.

“They told me the main amphitheatre would be used for more classes now. The one where you have been sticking the notes is going to be renovated.” Vivienne announces from behind you.

“I know…” you utter.

So much for being relieved.

You open the door of the amphitheatre and start from the tables. You hate this room; it is big and it means more work for you but today is payday and you promised you would buy a cake for Vivienne’s birthday even though she told you to keep your money.

“Do they not teach them how to use a bin?” The latter is already complaining, making you smile in the middle of your work.

The sun is rapidly falling, painting the room with shades of pink and purple so you work faster. You don’t want to go back home at ungodly hours again.

Yesterday you spent an hour cleaning the stains of paint on the floor and even your skin itches from the amount of alcohol you used.

You’re sweeping between the tables when you find a notebook.

Vivienne is cleaning the huge board when you pick it up, puzzled. You look around before kneeling to grab it.

The handwriting is messy but it looks like it belongs to a student. There are notes, tiny drawings and lost sentences. Pieces of paper fall from between two pages. You pick one and your eyes go wide when you find your own handwriting.

These are the notes you left to the young gentleman.

“Sir, if you’re looking for the room being renovated, it is in the other part of the building.” Vivienne speaks loudly, making you look up from your spot between the tables.

You turn around, surprised to see a guy standing. He is breathless, his face and clothes are covered in coal and he is way too sweaty.

“Sir, I can take you-”

“I’m not here to renovate this goddamn place.” The answer startles the two of you but when you find him looking at you before approaching, you don’t need more explanations.

You get up, the notebook in your hands and the pieces of paper back on the floor.

He stops before you, his eyes so deep it makes you take a couple of steps back.

Jinyoung looks down and finds your answers, forgotten between dust. He sighs and leans to pick them up before extending his hand.

“I forgot my notebook.”

You blink, mouth opened. Didn’t he say he is a student? Why would a student be covered in coal and be this dishevelled?

“...you are...a student?” Vivienne gasps, realizing she had been speaking this way to someone who isn’t part of the school personnel. “I’m sorry sir.” she lets the dirty sponge fall back into her bucket before hurrying toward you. “We shall leave.” her eyes find the floor instantly.

Eye-contact with a wealthy person is something no sane - and poor - person should do.

She grabs your arm to take you out but Jinyoung is quick to grab your arm.

You’re done for. You are going to get fired, beaten, criticized by the whole neighbourhood for doing such a rude thing.

Jinyoung sees it, the way fear appears on your face, the way you wish the ground would swallow you. Even covered in coal, dirty and smelling like sweat and humidity, you still think he belongs to a class that you should bow to and beg for mercy.

Anger takes him, makes him forget about how absurd the situation is, blurs his vision, covers everything from the ground to your devastating beauty.

He snorts and tilts his head. “So, care to tell me what you think about the rich again?”

How did he even know it was you?

Vivienne freezes, a hand going to her mouth but before she can beg you again to leave, you stop her.

“Wait for me outside. You have nothing to do with this so leave.” You look at her with a tender smile, one she recognizes as resignation toward your fate.

“I will...wait for you.” She whispers, not daring enough to look at a fuming Jinyoung.

Once she is gone you hand the notebook to Jinyoung before freeing yourself from his grip.

“I am sorry for what I did, sir. I didn’t wish to look into your belongings nor did I think before answering the notes I found. I will leave and never find myself before you ever again so I beg you to forget about my friend who isn’t involved in such idiocy.” It is your only option. You will endure everything before leaving and pray for this incident not to spread in any way.

You know how things go when someone makes a mistake. No mistake is allowed for people like you.

Jinyoung grabs his notebook before shaking his head.

“You didn’t answer.” is all he says.

You want to cry when you bow to recite the praises.

“As I already answered, the rich are the essence of-”

“Is that what you really think? Even covered in dirt, even when you have to kneel every day, beg for forgiveness, fight for food and act like you are invisible?” Jinyoung is smiling when you get back up. “You don’t want them to disappear? You don’t want the rich to pay for the way they treat the poor? YOU DON’T HATE THEM?” He ends up yelling when he finds himself unable to control his feelings.

“No, sir.”

Jinyoung laughs, “Well, I do.” he says before turning around. His knuckles are turning white from how tight he is gripping the notebook.

It takes a while for you to process the words but when you fully grasp what he just said, you speak again.

“Why?”

Jinyoung stops. He doesn’t turn around, but you guess he is still angered by the situation.

“Because of how frightened you are. Because we must beg for forgiveness even when we did nothing wrong. Because no matter how I torture myself, I will never understand how inequitable this bloody society is. Nonetheless, you risk nothing with the filthy me, young lady.”

And he leaves.

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askultimateluckytrash · 4 years

Note

so you just left them? you stayed at Hope's peak? what happened to you then? did you see the 78th class at all?

“Yes, I left them. I stayed at Hope’s Peak, or what was left of it. It was just a crumbling, empty building full of corpses at that point. I snuck around, trying to avoid the Remnants of Despair, trying to find food and clothes to wear...It was horrible, but I was more than willing to do it to carry on the legacy of hope. I thought...Well, I was beginning to worry that I was the only one left in the world to help hope. That I would have to become the Ultimate Hope. And that was something that someone like me would surely mess up. But I would’ve done it, if that was what hope needed. Luckily, that’s where I found the real Ultimate Hope: Izuru Kamukura. He must’ve been there for Junko’s killing game, at some point, wandering around the school like I was. We ran into each other. I remembered him from the Student Council murders. How could I forget? Ahaha, he shot me. But I remembered that he had introduced himself as the Ultimate Hope, and of course that was the truth. I knew it when he shot me. Never has a feeling given me so much hope before-- the idea of dying. Dying at the hands of the Ultimate Hope...He could see what despair I would bring the world. He could see how worthless I was. So he killed me, and I loved it. But...Unfortunately, because of my luck, I survived. But-- ahaha, sorry, I always get distracted by that memory. Anyway, I met him in the empty Hope’s Peak, and I recognized him as the Ultimate Hope. I thought he would kill me again, but instead he just took me. He allowed me a second chance, to bring hope to the world, to justify my existence. He took me and allowed me to be his servant, to be a slave of hope, to help him however I could. And he would punish me whenever I did something wrong or despairful. He was helping me. Helping me to help hope better. In those first few weeks, I was mostly helping by entertaining him. He gets bored so easily, ahaha. I was happy to help him enjoy himself however he wanted, beating me, breaking my arm, throwing me down the stairs, shooting at me, throwing knives at me, making me stick my hand in a fire...He was so sweet back in those days. Any time I would get hurt, he would be right there with a bandage or ice, and he would help me get better again. Later on, in Despair when I would get hurt, he just had Mikan patch me up instead of doing it himself. We stayed there, in the empty Hope’s Peak, until Junko’s killing game ended. We stayed in Jin Kirigiri’s apartments I think...Just being bored, waiting for Junko to finish up her revenge plot. She came by sometimes, and I hated it, but she never stayed long. Then her killing game ended and I took her arm from her corpse, and we went back to Despair Headquarters together. That was the helicopter crash...Ah, no I didn’t see any of the 78th class there. I know I must’ve been there while they were, and I saw the barriers Junko put up blocking them off from the rest of the school. But I didn’t actually see any of them. That’s a shame...I would’ve loved to see Makoto battling her despair!”

#tw: abuse

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cherishtaengs · 5 years

Text

I Hate That I... (pt. 4 - Y/N)

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3 | pt. 5 |

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2088

It’s the night of the party and you wish you’d brought gloves or something. You stick your hands into the pockets of your jacket, hiding them from the crisp air outside. If there was one thing you hated, it was having cold hands.

Sammi tugs you by the arm toward the house, and you notice the few people talking outside rather than inside. One of them catch your eye as you pass by; it’s Sanghyuk, and he’s talking to a girl who had the misfortune of being roped into conversation with him. She looks like she was enjoying the momentary attention, but just the thought of having to talk to any of Taeyang’s friends made you frown. Sanghyuk notices your stare, and returns it with a quizzical lift of his eyebrow. You don’t stop to acknowledge him, and it didn’t look like he was going to pause mid conversation, either, so you break the eye contact. You haven’t even been here for five minutes and you were already thinking of leaving.

“He’s kind of cute,” Sammi ushers you into the house, nudging past a few absent-minded people. “Isn’t he?”

You shake your head, pulling yourself away from Sammi and taking your hands out of your pockets. “You literally think everyone’s cute.”

“You’re right,” Sammi replies matter-of-factly, adjusting the straps on her top. You weren’t sure why she’d only gone for a sweater over her shirt; it was pretty cold for fall tonight, and you’d worn a layered jacket. Your friend wasn’t too happy with the less than stylish choice, but she let it slide, saying something about how you’d make it up to her later. You didn’t mind dressing up on occasion, but if you had to spend a cold night at this party, you’d rather be comfortable and warm than fashion forward.

“So,” you sweep your eyes around the room, taking in the casual setting. “What’s your plan, O wise one?”

“Well, it’s not really a great scheme like you may have thought. It’s very simple, very easy to follow through with.”

You waited, but you had an inkling of what she was suggesting.

“Let’s just say, I know two people who may be waiting for you,” your friend continues, looking over your shoulder as if searching for someone. “And don’t look now, but there’s one right over there. All you have to do is walk past him once, maybe twice, and let him come to you.”

You fight the urge to spin around, but you knew without even having to. It was probably Taeyang, canoodling with some poor unsuspecting person who thought they had all his attention. Not that it bothered you; the demon could do whatever he wanted, it wasn’t your business.

“Why would I do that?” you hiss, not liking the idea of being paraded back and forth. “Why can’t we just stay away and enjoy the party?”

Sammi sighs. “Y/N, you may be dense, but I’m not. Inseong didn’t just give you that invitation for no reason. He also didn’t give you his phone number for you to waste this opportunity. I bet you didn’t even text him once since the other day, did you?”

“Just to tell him we’d be coming.”

“Right, well, obviously Inseong didn’t just want an RSVP,” she sets a hand on your shoulder, giving you an almost pleading stare. “I’m willing to bet that he wanted to actually make conversation with you. Look at it this way- he stands up for you when Taeyang’s being a jerk. He makes sure you’re okay. If nothing else, I’d settle for believing that he wants to be friends. And, he gave you all the right conditions to make a move yourself, but you can’t just let it all go to waste. If you can be friends with Inseong, I don’t think you’d have to worry about Taeyang anymore.”

You weren’t sure why Sammi wanted to set you up with Inseong so badly, but it honestly wasn’t like you didn’t want to talk to him at all. To be fair, you wanted to be around Inseong; his whole aura was just so strangely calming for you, and it made you feel silly to think that since you barely knew the guy, but he somehow managed to make you feel both nervous and comfortable around him. Of course you wanted to get to know him better, you just didn’t know if he wanted the same.

“Okay, tell you what,” you sigh at last, setting a hand atop Sammi’s arm. “I’ll go parade myself around the house for a bit, and whoever comes to me first gets the honor of my company.”

A grin stretches across your friend’s face, replacing the serious expression she wore just a moment ago with excitement for you. “Great! While you do that, I’ll be looking around for some entertainment myself. If you need me, my phone’s on.”

With a final encouraging pat to your shoulder and a wink, Sammi slips past you and seemed to immediately disappear into the growing crowd. Already starting to feel a bit overwhelmed, you took a deep breath and turned, ready to catch a glimpse of whoever it was that she said was waiting for you. To your surprise, however, there was no one familiar anywhere around you; no Taeyang, no Inseong. Not even their friends.

“So much for the easy way out,” you muttered to yourself, pushing past people to head for the kitchen. Hopefully, they had some water or something else you could drink and pretend it was taking the edge off.

As you squeezed your way into the kitchen, you half expected to run into either of the boys. You weren’t sure why, but the anticipation had you on edge; you really wanted Inseong to find you first, but on the other hand, would you really mind if it was Taeyang instead? But right as that thought entered your mind, you kicked it back out. You weren’t going to let Taeyang get any kind of leverage over you, even if he didn’t know about it. Letting your guard down around Taeyang, like you did at the library just two days ago would mean losing. And you weren’t going to lose to Taeyang, of all people.

Inseong, however, you’d be willing to give a chance. Not that you even thought it would work out, since he was older and way out of your league. Embarrassed, you shake those thoughts out of your head, too. You weren’t making a decision on either of them yet.

Somehow in all of your wandering, you found yourself back at the front door. The porch seemed to be vacant for the moment, so you took the opportunity to catch some fresh air. You hadn’t run into anyone tonight, hadn’t even caught a glimpse of Sammi.

It was almost as if the universe was edging you on into chasing after one of the two. Quite frankly, you weren’t a very big fan of any kind of running, so you tried your best to ignore the universe’s persistent tugging. If you were meant to meet Taeyang or Inseong here tonight, then they’d come find you.

“What’s someone like you doing out here all alone?”

Seems like the universe can get impatient, too.

You turn around, expecting the cheesy line to have come from some loser looking for an easy lay. Instead, you see Inseong leaning against the doorframe, slight grin on his face. You feel yourself relax, smiling back before you could stop yourself.

“Someone like me?” you raise an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Inseong just smiles wider and joins you by the railing, leaning his elbows next to yours. “Got bored inside?”

“I don’t really know anyone else here,” you shrug. “And my friend left me with a quest.”

“Quest?” Inseong looks at you with a quizzical lift of his eyebrows. Your cheeks heat and you realize explaining Sammi’s plan for the night was not a good move unless you wanted to scare Inseong away. Which you definitely did not want to do.

“Nothing important,” you brush it off. “I don’t mind standing out here anyway. There’s something aesthetically pleasing about disconnecting yourself from a raging party and staring at a lawn, I guess.”

At that, Inseong chuckles, a warm sound you felt in your chest. In the dim light, you saw the sharp dimple at the corner of his lip. “It does sound like a nice aesthetic, if also a little lonely.”

You bite back a response quickly, suddenly too embarrassed to start flirting with him. Instead you nod and tip your head up to get a better view of the dark sky.

“You know, Taeyang isn’t such a terrible guy.”

You wished you’d just gone ahead and flirted, because now the conversation had taken a sour turn. Why couldn’t he have said something funny and cute? Why did he want to jump right into talking about Taeyang? You stay silent for a moment, hoping Inseong didn’t press you to reply.

“Well,” he continues. “He can come off like a bit of a jerk, but I promise that’s not all there is to him. You probably don’t know this but, we go way back. I’ve known Taeyang since he was barely a teenager.”

You weren’t sure why Inseong was giving you a history of Taeyang’s life, something you didn’t really care about hearing, but you didn’t think it was polite to interrupt him and say so. So you watch the grey clouds drift past as he talked.

“He’s never been good at expressing his emotions outright. You might not believe me, but Taeyang used to be very shy. He’d just sit so quietly and observe a conversation unless you asked him a question directly. Sometimes, you’d even forget he was there.”

You roll your eyes, something in the pit of your stomach flipping in an odd way that you didn’t quite like. “You’re right. I don’t believe you.”

It didn’t make sense to you that someone like Taeyang, who basked in attention and popularity like a cat does sunlight, could ever have been the quiet type.

Inseong shook his head. “He’s changed a lot, trust me. Maybe not for the better, but it’s a long way from where he used to be. But you know about that, too, don’t you?”

He was talking about your high school years with Taeyang, the way he’d managed to completely ruin your senior year. “I don’t know what he was like before high school, but he was the bane of my existence in senior year.”

When you turn your head to face Inseong, you see him focused intently on you. So you sigh and continue your recollection of how exactly Taeyang had turned into your “enemy”.

“I’ll spare you the overly dramatic details. Now you may not believe me, but once upon a time Taeyang and I actually got along.” You pause for dramatic effect, allowing Inseong to react. “We weren’t close or anything, but we also didn’t hate each other. And then he started getting on my nerves. I wish I knew the reason for it, but I don’t. It’s like he was purposely trying to make my life a living hell.”

You stopped to take a breath as the memories of his constant teasing and pointless bickering came back to you. Thinking back on it, both of you were immature and petty; it was childish. But Taeyang had started it, so that automatically made him the bigger child.

“And you think he does it because he hates you?” the older boy tilts his head, resting his chin on a palm.

“He wouldn’t try so hard if he didn’t,” you shrug, casting a sideways glance at the party.

Inseong was silent for a moment, as if considering both sides of a complicated story. “And you think he’d keep kissing you even if he hated you?”

You weren’t surprised that Inseong knew about how Taeyang held the kisses over you like some kind of award, but for some reason hearing it from him directly felt like a slap. “He’s trying to get under my skin. He’s using me, and I’m just letting him.”

You hoped your voice didn’t sound as unsure to Inseong as it did to you. But if he noticed the hesitation, Inseong ignored it and just offered you an understanding smile.

“You know you could stop it anytime you want, right?” Inseong fully turned to you, and you noticed how he was much closer to you than you thought. You shifted your gaze to the floor, staring hard at your feet. “You don’t have to keep playing along.”

You weren’t sure what to say, and a slightly breathless voice broke the heavy silence, saving you from having to answer at all.

“You can’t be thinking to quit so soon,” Taeyang said, the set of his shoulders and raise of his eyebrows reflecting the challenge in his voice.

“Things are just starting to get interesting.”

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do-your-socks-have-holes-in-them · 5 years

Text

Spooky Month 10/25

Prompt: Ghost Hunting

Summary: Patton joins his brothers on their ghost hunt, and makes a new friend.

Warnings: implied past character death, because... ghosts

Pairings: platonic Moxiety

@sanderssidescelebrations

~ ~ ~

Twelve-year-old Patton Sanders sighed and crossed his arms, leaning back in the creaky old porch swing. He didn’t even want to be here, really. Ghost hunting in some abandoned house that was supposed to be haunted hadn’t sounded like that much fun to begin with, especially the way his older brothers described it. Logan kept going on about proving whether ghosts existed at all, and it wasn’t very exciting to start out with the thought that what they were looking for probably didn’t exist in the first place! Roman, on the other hand, seemed convinced he could fight a ghost with his bare hands and become some sort of hero.

Patton didn’t like either of those ways of thinking about it, not that the twins listened to him—they were going into high school next year, so obviously they knew everything. They had only invited him at all because they wanted another person to help carry all the equipment they’d ordered from Amazon, and he’d agreed because he didn’t have much better to do that day. Then, as soon as they got to the house…

“Um… Patton… maybe it’s best if you stay out here for now,” Logan had suggested when he’d tried to follow them in.

“We wouldn’t want you to get hurt if it turns out to be dangerous,” Roman added. “We’re technically responsible for you right now.”

“If everything seems safe, then you can join us.”

“Make sure nobody steals our bikes, okay?” With that last remark, they’d both disappeared into the house and shut the door, leaving him outside on the porch. He wasn’t mad at them exactly, but he wasn’t having a great time either. It was nice out, at least, but it was still boring out here, and if anybody came by and saw him they’d all probably get in trouble, and he hadn’t even thought to bring anything to entertain himself with.

Through the door, he tried to listen for what exactly they were doing in there. It sounded like mostly a lot of metallic clunks as they set up their stuff, plus the muffled sound of each of them trying to tell the other he was doing it all wrong. Patton jumped and almost fell off the swing when something started making a horrible staticky noise, but he was pretty sure he remembered them saying it was supposed to do that. …For some reason. They would have demonstrated last night, but had ended up decided there was no point turning it on when there couldn’t possibly be a ghost in their house. (Patton was pretty sure they were afraid there might be, but he was nice enough not to say so.)

“Ghosts!” Roman called, loud enough to be heard clearly through the door. “If there truly is anyone… or anything… haunting this house- come out and show yourself to us!”

Silence followed, except for the horrible static, of course. Logan gave it a try next. Less dramatic, but still loud enough to be heard from anywhere in the house, of course.

“If there are any spirits here, give us a sign of your presence.”

There was another silence from any potential ghosts. Logan started to say something else, but Roman was already trying a… different strategy, encouraged by the lack of response so far.

“Hello? Ghost? Get out here, unless you’re afraid to-”

He cut off with a muffled protest, and Logan hissed something at him Patton couldn’t make out. Roman was laughing almost too hard to continue. Only almost, though.

“Why not? The ghost is a coward!” Logan snapped at him to cut it out, but it was easy to tell he was laughing, too, however much he wanted to pretend he wasn’t. “Hey! Ghost! You’re-”

Patton had no idea what happened after that, but he heard a crash, and then his brothers screamed, and before he could finish scrambling off the swing to make sure they were okay they had already come running out of the house with everything they’d set up scooped haphazardly into their arms.

“What happened?! Did you see the ghost? Guys?”

They didn’t seem to hear him. They were busy sorting out the equipment to make sure it wasn’t damaged from their hasty exit, looking wide-eyed at each other and saying things like “do you think that got recorded?” and “Roman, I told you not to do that-” “But it worked!”

“Does that mean it’s not safe?” Patton tried again, except not very loudly. “If you don’t tell me it’s not safe, I’m gonna go in, okay?”

They did not, in fact, tell him anything of the sort, or even appear to notice he had said anything. So, feeling a little bit guilty, but not very, because they hadn’t been very nice to him so far today, he opened the door as quietly as he could and walked inside.

The interior of the possibly haunted house wasn’t all that impressive. Mostly, it was just dark and- he sneezed mid-thought- dusty. There wasn’t even any furniture. Which made sense, because there was no one living here- or, at least, no one living here- but it was still weird, walking through a house with completely empty rooms.

“Hello?” he called quietly. There was no answer, which was a little bit of a relief. “Uh, sorry about Roman and Logan. It sounded like they were being kinda rude, but they… didn’t mean it? I mean, I don’t think they thought you were real.” He paused again, shuffling his feet awkwardly. “I just wanted to say hi, I guess, if you’re there…” He waited a few more seconds, then sighed disappointedly and turned to leave.

“Hey.”

Patton squeaked and spun around. There was a boy standing behind him. He looked closer to the twins’ age than Patton’s, with dark clothes and dyed hair. More to the point, Patton could see through him.

“Oh- oh gosh, hi, I didn’t think that would actually work!”

The boy shrugged, almost embarrassed. “Not a lot of people to talk to when you’re haunting a house, so, if you’re not gonna be a jerk about it…”

“Of course not!” Patton started to put out his hand to shake, but stopped when he remembered his new friend wasn’t really… solid. “Um- I’m Patton, what’s your name?”

“Oh, uh…” Now he did look embarrassed. “It’s Virgil,” he muttered.

“That’s a cool name!” He smiled, and Virgil blinked and hesitantly smiled back.

---

It took far longer than either of them would have liked to admit for Logan and Roman to realize they couldn’t see Patton anymore. Logan dropped the camera he’d been bemoaning the lack of clear ghost images on and looked around a bit frantically, only to realize the door of the house was ajar.

“Oh. Oh, no.”

“We’ll just have to go back in there and save him,” Roman decided, pacing back and forth on the sidewalk. “Patton is not gonna get killed by a ghost on my watch!”

Logan had to agree. Much as he didn’t like the idea of possibly missing out on evidence, he also agreed they would have to leave the ghost-hunting equipment outside- if the ghost showed up again, it would be much easier to run away without all that. (Also, he was pretty sure half of that stuff was fake anyway.) They crept up to the door together and eased it open, almost holding their breath. They were not prepared for what they saw inside.

Patton was sitting cross-legged on the floor, and the ghost who’d appeared out of nowhere to scare them half to death earlier was in a similar position next to him, and as far as either of them could tell they were just… talking. As they watched in stunned silence, Patton cracked a terrible pun, and the ghost laughed.

This was insane. Logan took a step forward, unsure if it was still a good plan to grab Patton and run, and a floorboard creaked. Both Patton and the ghost looked up. He resisted the urge to take a step back again. “Patton? What… are you doing?”

“Right- guys, this is Virgil! He’s sorry for scaring you earlier, right?” He stared at Virgil, who looked incredibly awkward and sheepish.

“Y-yeah. Sorry. I guess I overreacted a little.”

“A little?!” Roman scoffed. “I thought you were going to kill us!”

“And now,” Patton interrupted, raising his voice, “you two have to apologize for coming in here and being rude to him.”

They both looked at him with incredulous expressions. But then they looked a little to the side of him, at the ghost waiting expectantly, and mutually decided it might be a good idea to just go along with it.

“Yes… Of course. We apologize.”

“Sorry I called you a coward.”

Patton beamed. “There we go! Come sit with us, I was just telling Virgil about the last season of Steven Universe ‘cause he doesn’t have a TV in here and-”

“Well, I’m sorry to interrupt,” Logan interrupted, “but we do sort of need to go home. It’s getting close to dinner time.”

“Oh.” Patton slumped sadly, and Virgil looked disappointed as well. He leaned in and said something to Patton, very quietly.

“Yeah, of course!” Patton turned back to his brothers. “We can come back to visit again, right?”

They glanced at each other. “Why?”

“To see my new friend?” But they didn’t seem to be particularly swayed by that, so he added, “And if you don’t, I’ll tell mom you brought me here in the first place.”

Now that was a threat. “Fine,” Roman agreed quickly, “whatever- do not tell her anything about this.” Virgil was laughing. Roman waited until Patton was looking away and made a face at him. Apparently, just because he was dead didn’t mean he was above being just as childish and making one back.

“Come on,” Logan said to both of them- still not willing to leave the safety of the doorway- and Patton stood up reluctantly and followed him out. Just before closing the door behind him, he turned back and waved to Virgil.

“Bye,” he called. “See you later!”

After a moment, Virgil smiled and waved in return. “Yeah… Later.”

#yes this is rather late shhh #sanders sides #sanders sides spooky month 2019 #platonic moxiety #my post #my writing

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gingerdrab · 6 years

Text

Trick or Treat

Ship: Wonwoo x Reader Genre: Fluff, Halloween shit Word Count: 2.8k Summary: Wonu, a shy, quiet boy in your class, overhears you saying that you’ve never celebrated Halloween before. He makes it his mission to change that, since he loves Halloween, and just may have a thing for you… Writer’s Notes: breh I forgot to post this damn sorry lol, i got so super busy with work omgggg. also, I wrote this before the Halloween Vlive so wow thanks Minghao 4 wearing this costume and messing up my fic ugh lol jk ily anyways, hope u like it, this is my first ever Seventeen fic so yeah and it was rlly rushed tbh

“I can’t believe you’ve lived your entire life from childhood, into adulthood, without ever celebrating Halloween.”

Dara, the rather annoying, loud-mouthed girl who sat next to you in your poetry class, stared at you in utter disbelief after you had casually mentioned that little fact about yourself.

“I mean, it’s really not that big of a deal? It’s just not really a thing where I’m from and it’s my first year being an exchange student here so…”

She continued looking at you as if it were your fault that the entire season of Autumn chose not to exist where you grew up. Class had just ended and all the students were piling up behind you, eagerly trying to get through the doors and out into freedom. It was Friday, who could blame them? You cleared the door and tried to lose Dara in the crowd (lord forbid you’d have to listen to her drone on and on for another minute), walking quickly towards the library.

“Never celebrated Halloween…. Hmm….. But are you gonna celebrate this year, though?”

The question this time, belonged to a deep male voice. One you were sure you hadn’t heard before.

You stopped abruptly and spun around, causing a tall dark-haired figure to almost crash into you. You stared at him in surprise and mumbled an apology. He shook his head quickly, a small smile on his lips, and pushed his round glasses higher up his nose.

“You’re Y/N, right? I’m Wonu.” He introduced himself, his voice quiet and low.

“I…. didn’t know you talked to people” you replied, trying to remember when you’d ever seen him interact with anyone before. He usually sat in the back corner of class and almost always had his nose buried in a book.

“Well, I was curious. About your Halloween situation, I mean.”

“You know, I don’t see what the big deal is. But whatever, I have to go now anyways. Bye.”

You turned around and continued your quest, still a bit confused as to why the shyest boy in the world had chosen to talk to you about something he just randomly overheard.

As you walked onto the courtyard, you wiggled deeper into your scarf, the cold air biting at you. You noticed a shadow growing behind you.

“Are you following me?” You slowed down till you were walking side by side with Quiet Boy.

“I’m going to the library.” He said softly. “But you still haven’t answered my question, though. Are you gonna celebrate this year?”

You began walking up the library steps together. You felt most amused than annoyed by his persistence, so you continued to entertain him.

“I wasn’t planning to. Why are you so interested anyways? Are you the Pumpkin King or something?”

“Aha! So you do know Halloween things at least!” A look of almost victory playing across his face.

You both sat across from each other at an empty table at the end of the deserted library. You studied the boy as he reached into his backpack and pulled out a very worn out novel. You’d never seen him this friendly, or even happy. It looked good on him. He was a handsome guy, you supposed; with his short, messy raven locks, pretty lips, and dark, mysterious eyes. Really handsome, actually. You wondered why you’d never paid him much attention before now.

He looked up at you, your eyes meeting for a while.

“I just really like Halloween. And I think you’d like it too. You should go find some books about the history of it. I know you like that stuff.”

He quickly averted his eyes, blushing slightly from his oversharing.

“How could you possibly know what I like? We’ve literally never spoken before.”

His cheeks and ears turned a deeper shade of red. He looked into his book and replied, “I read your blog. And I always see you in here. You sit and research and write for hours.”

It was your turn to blush. “I-I didn’t think anyone I knew even read my stuff…” you muttered, heavily embarrassed.

He smiled again. “Well, to be fair, you didn’t really know me.”

“Wow, so you’re like a fan then?” you joked playfully. You both giggled, and you couldn’t help noticing how cute he looked.

You started thinking about what he had said. You actually knew quite a bit about Halloween, and you were totally willing to participate in some events. The problem was: you didn’t actually have any friends. Unless you counted Dara. (Which you totally didn’t.) This was only your fourth month here, and you’d been really focused on adjusting to school, and life in general, and hadn’t really had time to make friends. You knew a few people around campus, but not enough to call them friends. You wondered if Wonu had friends. What would he be like with them? Laughing and smiling? Funny? Serious? …..Cute?

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, forcing you out of your little daydream.

[4:01PM] Dara: I saw you talking to that creepy boy from class. Just be careful.

Creepy? You looked up at him, his eyes focused on the words in front of him, barely aware of what was happening around him. Creepy how? Yeah, he dressed all in black every single day and didn’t speak to anyone ever. But you definitely weren’t getting a creepy vibe from him. You ignored the text.

Wonu turned a page in his book, unaware that the way you were staring at him could probably bore a hole into his skull. You looked at the way his eyes flitted across the words, and how his tongue peeked out between his teeth. He was totally caught up in his own little world. It was adorable. You felt content, and finally reached into your bag for your laptop so you could write, thinking to yourself “ohmygod he reads my blog?!”

Somehow, your library visits together started becoming a regular thing. You’d both just ‘end up’ at the same table after class, him reading, and you writing, a comfortable silence between you two. It was a week after your initial meeting, and you both sat in your usual spots, this time, feeling just a bit too distracted to do any actual work.

“So you’ve never decorated for Halloween? Visited a pumpkin patch? Carved a pumpkin? Nothing?”

This again. You shook your head for each activity he mentioned.

“You’ve never been trick or treating?”

You laughed. “It’s not really a big deal! Besides, I’m too old for that one anyways.”

Wonu paused, looking at you incredulously. “Excuse me? Too old for dressing up in costumes and collecting candy? That’s the best part of Halloween! I can’t believe you’ve never done it before.”

You smiled at him and leaned your chin into your hand. “I guess I used to want to, when I was younger. But there was nowhere I could, and no one to do it with.”

The small smile growing on Wonu’s lips had a glint of mischievousness to it.

“Let’s go trick or treating, Y/N.”

He looked like an excited puppy. You, on the other hand, were simply confused.

“I’m serious! There’s gonna be a Halloween event on campus. We can dress up and walk around to the different departments… I think we’re all just trying to reconnect to our childhoods here, you know?”

“How do you even know about this?”

“I’m the Pumpkin King, remember?” he said with a smirk. “I’m kidding, my friends are the ones organizing it.”

So he did have friends.

Monday morning was fast approaching, your weekend had been a blur. You and Wonu had grown even closer via text, but you kinda wished you had gotten to see him over the weekend. You were simultaneously looking forward to your poetry class, and also dreading it. Dreading it, because there would be a randomly selected Haiku presentation, and you hated reading your work in front of anyone; but you were looking forward to sitting next to Wonu.

You got to class slightly earlier than usual and chose the seat next to the one he usually sat in. You knew it would be empty anyways. “Uh, Y/N? Why are you sitting there?”

It was Dara. Ugh. She looked from you to the door that Wonu had just started walking through and quickly got the picture. Quiet Boy reached his spot and stared at you, a faint blush rising on his cheeks.

“Mornin’” he whispered, while sitting next to you.

“Hi!” you replied, a bit too cheery, embarrassing yourself. Dammit, I seem too eager, don’t I? Your thoughts were racing. The majority of class passed with you sneaking looks to the boy next to you, constantly finding yourself blushing, and once or twice, catching his eye and seeing him turn slightly pinker. Your professor’s voice pierced the room suddenly, interrupting your sweet daydreams.

“Presentation time! Who’s going first?”

His eyes scanned the classroom, searching for either volunteers, or just someone unsuspecting to pick on. You kept your head lowered, anxiety wringing your insides, when you heard the seat next to yours creaking.

Wonu was standing up.

“Uh… I’ll try…”

You stared at him, a mixture of surprise and interest dawning on your face.

“This is… a, uh…. autumn-y thing, I wrote. Um, the theme was kinda open so… I just went with it-

In summer, I saw

Her in the sea of faces.

In autumn, I fell.”

Dara wouldn’t stop talking your ear off at lunch. She had heard about the Halloween event that would be taking place on campus and was gushing about what she was going to dress up as and who would be there and other boring things you tried not to take notice of.

“You should come with me! It’ll be your first Halloween thing! You can be something really cute and sexy!”

You turned to look at her, putting on your best annoyed expression.

“I’m already going. With Wonu.”

Dara faked a smile. “I thought you’d say that. Are you two dating or something?”

You sputtered, red tinting your cheeks already. “Wha- No. That’s – no – just stupid. Haha. No!

We’re friends. And he’s not creepy. He’s just… quiet.”

“Hmm. If you say so. I figured after that super obvious poem last class… Whatever.”

She walked away in a huff, much to your pleasure, leaving you to grow steadily more embarrassed just thinking of the poem and of dating Wonu. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t almost totally smitten by him. And even you had thought, or at least hoped, that the haiku he had written really was about you. Was he falling for you too? Did he even mean it like that? As if summoned by your thoughts, the Quiet Boy himself appeared at your side, taking a seat and grabbing some of your chips.

“Hey. I just got out of class.”

You almost choked on your drink. He was so friendly now, it made you both exhilarated and nervous.

“Hey! You nearly killed me, thanks.”

“Sorry,” he chuckled. “I wanted to ask you about the party.”

“Hm?”

“Did you.. have any ideas on what you wanted to dress up as?”

You definitely had at least 17 ideas. You’d never gotten to dress up for Halloween before, so you’d been toying with the idea of some classic costumes. But then, of course, there were the funny costumes. And memes. Would it be lame to try to make it cute or sexy? Stockings, mini skirt, and push up bra? Would it be weird to make it extra scary? Fake blood and gross scar makeup; the full works! You weren’t sure, but you knew whatever you picked, it had to be good.

“I don’t know yet. What about you?”

Wonu hesitated, shifting his gaze from your eyes and onto his hands. “I do. But it’s super cheesy.

It’s, uh, kind of a couple costume.”

You blushed a deep scarlet shade. You knew exactly what he was thinking.

Saturday evening found you standing in front of your mirror, applying blue makeup to your face. The costume Wonu had gotten for you was a perfect fit, and you couldn’t help getting more and more excited while you put yourself together. The doorbell to your apartment rang just as you were finished securing your long, red wig. The butterflies in your stomach became frantic with the realization that you were practically about to go on a date with your crush. (I mean, basically, come on)

You raced down the stairs and pulled open the door.

“Hey Sally”

Wonu stood in front of you with a smirk on his lips, looking absolutely handsome in his black and white striped suit and his face in matching paint.

“Hey Jack”

You giggled, feeling a bit ridiculous.

“Is this too much? We’re probably gonna get made fun of, aren’t we?” you questioned, locking your door and getting ready to head to campus with Wonu.

“Probably. But’s it’s definitely worth it. Don’t you think?”

You hummed in agreement, dropping into a synchronized walk with the tall guy.

You arrived on campus to see what could only be described as the Most Extra little Halloween village, complete with carved pumpkins everywhere, fairy lights strung from the trees, skeletons hanging on every corner and cute, spooky ghosts propped up against the walls. The place was crowded with college students mostly in costume, drinking, dancing to music, and just hanging around. A large number were making the trick or treating rounds, collecting candy (and sometimes shots of vodka lmao.) Wonu reached for your hand, and you felt your heartbeat quicken. You looked up at him to see him smiling, a soft blush rising on his cheeks.

“You look so excited. It’s way too adorable.”

He was right. You were the cutest right now, nearly bursting at the seams with delight, and now, even more so as he held on to your hand.

“Let’s go!” You both walked down the makeshift street, which was just the decorated hallway, stopping at each makeshift ‘house’, which were in actuality just classrooms. Each time you stopped, he let you be the one to knock and shout “Trick or Treat!” while almost erupting into laughter each time. At each of the ‘houses’, cute guys stood, giving out treats. They were introduced to you as Wonu’s friends, and without fail, they all teased him about the hand-holding thing. (And yet, he never let go.)

After visiting all the houses, and meeting all his friends, you settled on a bench at the end of the Halloween Street, already half-way through your third candy bar.

“So… I didn’t realize you were this popular. You’re so quiet all the time.”

He sat next to you, reaching over for some chocolate.

“Yeah, I just like to keep to myself. I mean, other than those guys you met, I don’t really talk to anyone else. I know most people from my classes think I’m some creepy guy.”

“I don’t think you’re creepy,” you said, smiling up at him.

“Even with the skeleton makeup?” he laughed.

“…it’s kinda sexy actually.” You felt your cheeks grow hot at your own boldness. Ohmygod, you actually said that.

You took a tentative look at Wonu next to you, who you were happy to note, was wearing a blush that matched yours exactly. He cleared his throat before fidgeting profusely and then said,

“So I … I hope you’ve figured out that this was a, um, date.”

You felt yourself growing braver and more playful at his returning shyness.

“A date? Well you never officially asked me, so I figured ─”

“Remember the haiku I read in class?” he cut you off. Your heart pounded a little harder, your previous glimmer of hope growing much larger in your mind.

“That was about you.”

Your heart practically stopped. In your head, you had turned into a teenage girl fist-pumping in exhilaration.

“Are you saying that you ─”

“I’ve been thinking about you since I started reading your blog. And since I started seeing you writing in the library.”

“Definitely a secret admirer then,” you smirked.

“Definitely. So can this be a date now then?” he questioned you, staring directly into your eyes, suddenly seeming braver than before.

You stared back at him, your gaze flickering briefly to his lips. He was close enough for you to feel his soft breath on your face. The makeup he wore over his eyes and cheeks honestly made him look hotter than usual, which was saying something. You nodded and were barely able to finish saying yes, when he moved forward, closing the space between you, and pressing his lips to yours. You leaned into the kiss, reaching your hand around his neck, and burying your fingers in his hair. You pulled apart from each other, after what felt like an eternity of innocent bliss, smiling widely.

“Good. Cause I really like you, Y/N” He stated, with the most confidence you’d ever seen from him since you started talking. He reached for your hand again, this time intertwining his fingers with yours.

You leaned forward slightly and pulled him in for another kiss. “I really like you too, Pumpkin King.”

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ladyloveandjustice · 6 years

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Fall 2018 Anime Overview: Double Decker! Doug & Kirill

Double Decker! Doug and Kirill follows a special police force devoted to dealing with cases involving “Anthem”, a highly dangerous super-drug that can be both fatal and grant uncontrollable superpowers. The squad is divided into three pairs of partners. The eponymous Kirill is a enthusiastic newbie who partners with a deadpan, “kind of an asshole” veteran named Doug.

It’s hard to say when a show crosses the line from “dumb in a fun way” to “just mind numbingly dumb” but I’d say Double Decker crossed that threshold around about the midpoint of the series. Which is a shame, because I was rooting for it. It seemed like an anime with a lot of potential- it was humorous, irreverent and bombastic, it seemed fun and colorful with a varied cast, it had a nice variety of ladies in the squad, and two of the ladies, Max and Yuri, were heavily coded as a couple right off the bat-

-with Max (on the left) in particular going putting off some Impressive Lesbian Energy with her aesthetic...and early on Doug announced that his life goal was to “eliminate poverty and class”, indicating the series intended to deal with social issues.

It IS possible to be a cheesy, fun show that is also inclusive and deals with social ills, but Double Decker’s clumsy, simplistic attempts to balance this with the larger goofy plot ultimately meant it fell short of being an truly entertaining romp AND was utterly disastrous at being socially aware.

Double Decker acts like it wants to say something about tolerance at points, but is ultimately gutless, toothless and halfhearted, sometimes verging on offensive. It became apparent the show wasn’t going to be truly LGBT inclusive with a character’s uh, “gender reveal” scene midseries that is a just...a mess. Some characters reactions to the “revelation” are just blatantly transphobic (thinking its hilarious, saying the character in question should “tell the truth" about their sex, etc) and this was never called out or challenged. It’s finally explained (baffllngly late in the series) that rather than actually being trans, this character is a cis man who just disguised himself as a woman for flimsy plot reasons, it doesn’t make how the reveal scene was handled and how it was painted as being “funny” any better. It’s not my lane so I won’t really go into it, but this article at Anime Herald covers the whole mess in detail. The whole thing is SO stupid and honestly there was no reason for it to be a plot at all.

If that “reveal” episode had me feeling wary about the show, the episode following sunk any hopes I had for it. Double Decker didn’t even have the guts to have Max and Yuri be explicitly romantically involved, instead just giving vague, baity hints. What’s worse, the episode focusing on Max was boring as sin. It was painfully bland and on the nose “critique” of high school proms SO rote it even had the girl who wanted to be popular transform into a literal “queen bee” (GET IT). The only thing we actually learn about Max in her supposed focus episode is that she hates proms because a bunch of kids rejected her trans friend at one which caused her friend to turn to drugs and disappear forever. Yep, not only can the show not bother to give us actual lesbians, trans people are just tragic props (and the attempt to say a thing about how trans people are treated badly would have felt a LOT more sincere if transness hadn’t been treated as a joke in THE EPISODE JUST BEFORE THIS ONE).

Doug also only became aware of poverty existing because of a tragic prop- his backstory amounts to a dead little shoe-shining street girl so one dimensional and cliche I’m surprised she wasn’t found frozen in an alley clutching a book of matches, and that one incident made him realize Poor People Shouldn’t Be a Thing so now he’s, uh....well, he’s not really doing anything about it, but he says he wants to, and that’s good enough right?

Yeah, that’s about the level of nuance we’re dealing with here. It’s nice that Double Decker tried, I guess, but if this was going to be the level of its effort, I wish it had just stuck to being a goofy sci-fi show. As it was, even the “goofy buddy cop” aspect felt really hollow because the show didn’t give us a reason to be invested in these partnerships or these characters.

I wanted to be invested! I was SO ready to appreciate the punk butch and her robot girlfriend, but instead we barely learn anything about them or see them interact. I was READY to be tremendously invested in the straightlaced office girl and her vulgar pink haired partner, but we didn’t learn anything beyond their surface personalities- nothing substantial about what drives them or where they come from or anything. Doug had his eye-rolly dead-little-girl backstory and admittedly sometimes amusing snarky asshole personality, but he spends so much time being insincere there wasn’t much to latch onto with him.

Kirill was pretty much the only one in this show who felt like an Actual Character, and I did find him extremely likable- he was utterly sincere in everything he did, full of heart, dumb and enthusiastic in a fun way, and incredibly sweet and supportive to his friends and loved ones (he was also the only one who was chill and accepting about the not-really-trans character too so that earned him some points) but all the stuff going around him was so empty it didn’t matter.

(ending spoilers here)

The show didn’t put the work into making you connect with these characters, but it DID still expect you to be invested in them. One of the kinda-lesbians appears to have died at one point in the show, but it makes zero impact because you knew basically nothing about that character anyway- it instead just feels annoying, like “wow, you’re just gonna kill that gay without bothering to develop her huh” but the show clearly expects you to be devastated. Then when it’s revealed at the end “PSYCH she’s alive for this ridiculous jokey contrived reason haha really pranked you huh” it’s just even more annoying. Just because I’m relieved you didn’t actually bury the gay doesn’t mean you pretending to bury her wasn’t insulting and pointless. All you did was bring my attention to how little you bothered to develop this character and how willing you are to use her and her kinda-girlfriend’s pain as a plot device, so thanks?

(spoilers end)

The humor of the show basically followed “you thought THIS thing was gonna happen but instead WACKY TWIST haha now the narrator makes a snarky comment about it” and while that was fun at first it just got old without anything going on besides that. And as for the plot, it’s...generous... to call it a plot. At the end it jumps straight to “AND SUDDENLY THERE WERE ALIENS” with almost zero foreshadowing and it just gets stupider from there. Such a ridiculous development would work on a show that was either a) a pure farce or b) something super wacky but with enough heart, drama and character to keep you invested, but DD was neither of those things. It was an anime that wanted you to care, but gave no fucks itself.

(Also this show is supposed to be related to Tiger and Bunny but I honestly have no idea how these two anime are connected in-universe. Is this a prequel? sequel? Are they happening at the same time? WHO KNOWS, THE CREATORS SURE DON’T)

The animation was also nothing to write home about, with a lot of awkward CGI shots and pretty ugly clothing designs- it was colorful enough to distract from it a lot of the time, but definitely not winning any aesthetics awards.

So yeah, Double Decker is very far from the worst anime I’ve ever watched, and I like the concept I think it was GOING for- but what we ended up with was something completely mediocre. The first couple episodes were fun, but by the end it was a chore to watch. I finished it because “well I’ve come this far might as well” rather than any real investment in the show. It wasn’t painful (except for the clumsy attempts at dealing with trans issues), but it was so completely stupid and forgettable, which is sad, because it seemed like it had so much potential at the start.

#double decker #double decker! doug & kirill #double decker doug and kirill #anime #fall 2018 anime #anime overview #my reviews

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allthestripes · 7 years

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Thank You For Existing - 2/4 Speaking Through Music series

It was senior year for Tweek and Craig, and Tweek’s fame was still growing. After his first tour, his life had been a whirlwind, but Craig’s steady, calming presence had kept him grounded enough to function. The Tweak’s had decided firmly that their son would graduate from South Park high and not tour during school. As such, his agent called frequently to see if Tweek had new songs to put out. It got to the point that Craig began answering the phone for his boyfriend, as Tweek would just scream into the receiver.

His studies took up most of his time, along with having to work at his parent’s coffee shop. They didn’t care that he was a famous musician making millions already; they needed an extra worker, and he was the best for the job. As such, the shop was always busy, people from all over the country flooding the small town to meet Tweek and have him make them coffee.

It was getting close to prom season, and Tweek was beginning to panic. He hadn’t been able to write any songs in almost a month, and his agent was breathing down his neck for something, anything.

“Craig, he wants something for people to play at proms across the country. That’s so much pressure!” he wailed one evening, curling up in his desk chair, legs tucked under his chin. His bandaged fingers pulled at his hair with one hand while the other was chewed on, Tweek glaring tiredly down at the page in front of him, covered in writing and crossed out words. His floor was littered with discarded ideas, his trashcan overflowing.

Craig sat behind him on his bed, watching him. When Tweek began to rip at his head, he got up and crossed the room, gently pulling his hands away wrapping his arms around him, locking Tweek’s arms at his sides. “Don’t hurt yourself,” he said. “I know you’re worried, but babe, people love you so much, they’ll understand that you need time off to think and live your own life.” He pressed a kiss to the top of his head and smiled when he was rewarded with a soft laugh.

“You’re right, I’m allowed to look after myself. I’m not here just to pump out song after song. I have things I want to do,” he agreed, sounding more cheerful than he had in weeks. He tilted his head back, planting a kiss of his own under Craig’s chin. “Thanks, Craig.”

Blushing, Craig stepped back. “Anyway,” he said after clearing his throat. “I came over today because I wanted to ask you to go to prom with me.”

Tweek turned his chair to look at his boyfriend, grinning at him. “I don’t know if I should say yes to such a lackluster offer,” he teased. “Aren’t these usually big deals with all kinds of stuff going into it?”

Craig shrugged, returning the look. “Not my style. I figured you’d prefer a simple offer than something extravagant, but I’m always willing to make a big deal over you.”

The other quickly shook his head. “Nah, you’re right, I do prefer this,” he said quickly. “Of course I’ll go with you, thanks for asking me.”

“Thanks for accepting my boring offer.”

Tweek snorted, then stood up. He walked to Craig and pressed his face into his chest, sighing. “Anytime.” Craig hugged him readily, enjoying the peaceful moment. This, of course, meant it was ruined quickly. Tweek’s phone began to blare a warning siren, the ringtone he had assigned his agent. Tweek groaned, falling away from the other and pulling on his hair harshly.

Craig frowned, snatching the phone up and swiping to answer. “What do you want?” he snapped in annoyance.

“Oh, it’s you. Put my client on,” the haughty voice issued, immediately grating on Craig’s nerves.

“Like fuck I will. Tell me what you want, and I’ll tell him in a way that isn’t manipulative and stress inducing,” he growled.

“Craig, it’s okay,” Tweek cut in. He looked tired, taking the phone and putting it to his ear before speaking. “What do you want now? I told you I don’t have anything.” Craig stood close by, unable to hear what was being said between the pair, but wanting to stay close in case he was needed.

“I don’t have time to do a concert,” he hissed out suddenly. “Craig is taking me to prom. God, it’s like you forget I’m a person with things I want to do myself!” His eyes were lit with fire, his exhaustion disappearing. Craig felt his heart warm as he watched, though he kept himself from smiling, knowing now was not the time.

He watched his boyfriend argue for a solid half hour, unable to tell if Tweek was winning or not. The heavy sigh he released didn’t fill him with confidence, and he touched his shoulder lightly.

“What is it, babe?” he asked.

“… He booked a concert for the night of prom,” Tweek murmured.

“What!? That’s total bullshit, he can’t do that!”

“Well, he did.” Tweek’s voice was hard, his mouth narrowing into a sliver. “And just to fuck me over, he let the school book me. So, I guess I can’t go with you, I’m going to be the fucking entertainment.”

Craig could hear the disappointment under the anger, and he allowed it to roll off him, knowing Tweek didn’t meant to snap at him. He grabbed his boyfriend’s hands, bringing them up to his lips. He kissed his fingertips and the band-aids decorating them tenderly. “Like Hell you aren’t going with me,” he said as Tweek’s face flushed red. “You’re going to enjoy your senior prom. Your agent can go suck a massive dick.”

Tweek’s face twitched as he held down a laugh, and he let out a breath, dropping his gaze to his feet. “If you say so, Craig.”

———-

The month leading up to prom was nothing less than chaos for the young couple. A flurry of crazed planning took up most of Tweek’s mind, keeping him distracted. Two weeks before prom, Craig pulled him into his car and drove them to South Park mall.

“What are we doing here, Craig?” Tweek asked, gripping his hand as they entered the building, Craig clearly having a destination in mind.

“We need to get suits for prom,” he answered easily. “I know you like to be more casual when you perform, but it’s a formal event, so to be let in I have to wear something nicer than black jeans and a clean shirt.” He paused long enough to shoot him a smile. “You don’t have to get one if you don’t want too, but you can help me pick one.”

With a tired sigh, Tweek followed him. He was exhausted lately, his paranoia keeping him awake. The only sleep he was getting was the hour-long lunch period he had, escaping to the nurse’s office and crashing there.

Entering the store, the pair where greeted brightly, the employees rushing to be attentive to their famous customer. He smiled weakly, collapsing into a chair beside the dressing room. He only half registered Craig pulling a few suits from the racks around him, pressing a kiss into his hair, and going into a changing room. When Craig stepped out, it was an entirely different story.

Tweek sat bolt upright in his seat, his eyes wide and locked onto his boyfriend. It occurred to him he had never seen Craig dress up for anything before, but goddamn if he didn’t highly approve.

Craig turned in a circle, his arms held out at his sides. “What do you think, babe?” he asked. “Too much? Need more? I’m not much of a fashion person.”

Cursing his mouth for failing him, Tweek gestured at him dumbly and nodded in approval. Craig had chosen a dark blue suit that seemed to have silver sparkles pressed into the threads. It was barely notable until Craig moved, then the light reflected from them, making him shine. A white undershirt covered his chest, and a tie matching the suit was clipped around his neck.

“Tweek? Are you alright?” he asked in concern, hugging him gently.

“Get this,” Tweek managed to command. His mind was filling with music, and he needed to get home right away. He shuffled from foot to foot impatiently as Craig changed back and went to the counter to rent the suit.

The musician all but yanked Craig out of the mall and shoved him into the car. Craig’s worry had waned, and he instead watched the other with deep fondness, recognizing the signs of a creative mood.

He hadn’t seen Tweek have one in so long, it was an extremely welcome site. Putting the car into gear, he pulled out of the parking lot and drove them back. Arriving at the Tweak house, Tweek pecked his cheek, then leapt out, sprinting into the house and up to his room.

Bursting into the room, he threw himself at his desk, snatching a pen and clicking it open, scribbling frantically. He used pen to write his song ideas, finding pencil smeared to easily when he rushed, and he broke a much smaller number of pens compared to pencils.

His parents, used to their son’s constant alertness, went to bed and slept soundly though his screeching and rushing around, banging around on the various instruments in his room as he brought the song in his head out to the world, stopping only to jot down the notes onto the music sheets.

In the early hours of the morning, Tweek collapsed on his bed, dead asleep. His newest song was stacked neatly in the one open spot on his messy desk, unreadable to just about everyone else in the world. His mother checked on him around seven, and seeing him resting, called him off from school for the day as well as sending Craig a text to let him know where the teen would be.

Craig smiled at the message that popped up on his phone, already in the school’s parking lot. He’d known that Tweek was going to work until he finished whatever was on his mind, then collapse. It wasn’t the first time he’d done this, and it wouldn’t be the last either.

———-

The remaining days to prom felt like someone had smashed the fast-forward button on Tweek’s life, propelling him through the days as though they didn’t exist. Lucky for him, Craig made sure to be around constantly, basically living in the Tweak house to help him prepare. The only thing Tweek had refused to be convinced to do was play the new song he had written for prom to Craig just yet.

“You’ll understand why when we’re there,” he promised, yanking his fingers through his hair in a vain attempt to fix it. “Just be patient for a little while, I promise it will be worth it.” Craig, who had asked for a sneak peek of the new song for the hundredth time, huffed and went into the bathroom to put on his suit.

Tweek felt incredibly guilty that Craig couldn’t go out to dinner with his friends beforehand, since he had to go to the community center to set up and Craig insisted on going with him. Craig did everything he could think of to assure him that there was nothing to feel bad about, he wanted to spend as much time with him as possible. Surprising him by showing up with takeout and his suit in a bag had helped. After eating, they showered and set about getting ready.

“Do I still look alright?” Craig asked, stepping out of the bathroom. Tweek’s breath caught in his throat as the sight of Dressed Up Craig entered his vision. He nodded mutely in response, watching Craig use his fingers to comb through his hair and style it slightly. Gulping, he turned away and shook himself, knowing he needed to stay focused.

They left shortly after, Tweek feeling extremely under-dressed, which he was. He had donned the same outfit he had worn for his first tour appearance, being sure to even have the same earrings in. Tweek was a deep believer in good luck, and seeing as his concert had done so well, it made sense (at least to him), to think that wearing the same outfit would cause a similar reaction. He had made one important addition, however: a warm, blue, slightly-too-big jacket was draped around him, the sleeves going down to his fingertips.

Craig thought it was the absolute cutest thing he had ever seen in his life.

Getting to the center, parents were already crowding around the entrance, though most of the teens wouldn’t arrive for another hour. This was fine by Tweek. The pair got their cheesy couple photo, Craig pulling him against him and smiling widely, managing to coax a nervous grin from his boyfriend.

Going into the building was like stepping into another world. The town had gone all out and donated massively to the high school that year; fairy lights were strung through the rafters and wrapped into designs that traveled up the walls. One side of the room had tables set up covered in white cloths, surrounded by fancy looking chairs. Center pieces sat on top of the pristine fabric, and Tweek couldn’t for the life of him figure out what the twisty gold-looking thing was supposed to be, but it was pretty all the same.

Moveable tiles had been set in place over the wooden floor boards on the half of the room not covered in seatery. Strobe lights were set up around the dance floor, and an area for the band, and Tweek, had been created between the giant speakers. Behind one of the speakers was a small table that had an AUX cord and someone’s phone for when Tweek and the helping band needed a break so the music wouldn’t have to stop for long.

The far wall had a long table set up, covered in snacks and drinks for the teens when they needed to rest and recharge.

Tweek let out a sigh and walked towards the performing area. Settling himself on the provided stool as adults rushed around to put the finishing touches on everything, he watched Craig, who had taken the table closest to him. He smiled slightly, appreciating the gesture, and Craig waved at him. They spent the time making faces at each other and giggling. Occasionally, Tweek would have to turn away to check his microphone for the sound technician, but the pair was left undisturbed for the most part.

When students began to arrive outside, someone pressed play on the phone behind the speaker and a pop song started up. Tweek’s performance would start after most of the students had arrived. Until then, he was allowed to get up and go to Craig. He did so gladly, running over to him.

Token, Clyde, Jimmy, Timmy, and Jason arrived first. Token and Clyde had come together, Token in a purple suit and red shirt, while Clyde was the opposite. Though neither Craig or Tweek were big on fashion, seeing Clyde’s outfit physically hurt them, Craig covering his eyes as Tweek pulled the hood of the jacket up to hide his face.

Clyde just laughed, enjoying their torment. Jimmy was in a yellow suit, something none of them had thought he would be able to pull off, but he did extremely well. Timmy had chosen light blue, and Jason had gone traditional with black. The three hadn’t asked anyone to go, knowing they would find someone to dance with who had come in a group like they had. If all else failed, they had no qualms just getting groovy with each other.

As students began to pour in, Tweek was called for. Craig kissed his forehead lightly, promising to hang out close to him while he performed. “This is technically the first time I’ve seen you play live,” he teased. “I’ll be watching you the whole time, so don’t worry too much.”

Tweek smiled, bid his friends goodbye, then returned to the band. The music turned off, and the band started to play, exciting the students. Many were big fans of Tweek’s music and were excited to hear him singing live.

Putting on his performing face, he smiled brightly, welcoming them all to prom before launching into a popular dance song. While he performed, Tweek kept an eye on the time. He wanted to end the dance with his new song for two reasons: one, it was a pretty easy song as far as the strain it put on his vocal cords, relaxing in a way, and a good wind up to end a long show, and two, he fully intended to embarrass Craig but didn’t want to make it impossible for him to escape. He wasn’t going to be that mean.

The dance was two hours long, and Tweek only took two breaks, and this only so the band could have a moment to rest. He himself was buzzing with energy, looking forward to Craig’s reaction.

Finally, it was nearing the end, and Tweek took the microphone from its hold and stood up, getting everyone’s attention.

“Thank you all for coming to this year’s prom, guys,” he started, pausing a moment while he was applauded. “Now, I know I haven’t released any new songs in a while, but I have something special for you tonight. I would like to perform the new song I wrote, if you’d all be willing to hear it.”

The room filled with excited chatter and the students agreed eagerly. Tweek smiled, then glanced towards Craig. “Craig, could you come up here, please?”

Craig looked around in confusion as everyone went silent, but he stood and walked to his boyfriend’s side, allowing Tweek to lead him back to the stool he had been sitting on all night. Tweek had pulled it out from its spot to the side and put in the center of the dance floor. Once Craig was seated, he grinned and kissed his cheek, eliciting squeals from some of the girls.

“I’ve had a hard time being inspired lately,” he said, “but Craig helped me out, like he always does. So, Craig, this song is for you. I’ve decided to call it, ‘Thank You For Existing’.” Craig’s cheeks turned red, but he smiled and nodded. Taking a step back, Tweek took a breath, then began.

“I got these fresh eyes, never seen you before like this…” He looked Craig up and down quickly, his eyes softening with affection. “My God, you’re beautiful.”

Craig’s eyes widened as his blush darkened. Tweek showed his love through actions more than he did words, and it was always a welcome surprise to be told something sweet.

“It’s like the first time, when we opened the door before we, got used to usual…”

Was… was Tweek talking about when they first got together? It had been an awkward shift in their dynamic from friends to lovers, but it had been a good awkward, if that even existed. The excitement of seeing one another for the first time every day hadn’t gone away, it had only grown into a routine. Craig’s mind raced as it pushed pieces into place, finding the deeper meaning in his boyfriend’s songs as he tended to do.

“It might seem superficial, mhmm… Stereotypical man… You dress up just a little and I’m like, 'Oh, damn’.” Tweek winked at him, derailing Craig’s attempts to reason through the words. It was almost ridiculous how easily Tweek was able to turn him into putty.

“So, suddenly, I’m in love with a stranger… I can’t believe he’s mine… Now all I see, is you, with fresh eyes, fresh eyes…”

As he repeated the line, the attendees began to clap in time to the beat, getting into the music.

“Appreciation… Well, it comes and it goes,” Tweek continued, giving a small shrug before moving behind his boyfriend and putting his arm around him. “But I, I’ll ride that wave with you. It’s human nature, to miss what’s under your nose 'til you, 'til you remind a fool…” He pressed a quick kiss to Craig’s jaw, then spun away as the drum picked up.

“Maybe all of this is simple… mhmm, my heart’s unconditional, yeah…” He turned back to face Craig, pointing him. “You dress up just a little and I’m like, 'Oh, damn’.”

His face felt like it was on fire, and Craig put his hands over his cheeks in a vain attempt to hide his embarrassment. If it had been anyone else, he could have flipped them off and stormed out, but… he couldn’t do that to Tweek. For sure he would need to get him back for this later though.

“If I could bottle this up, bottle, bottle this up, I would… I would bottle this up, bottle, bottle this up, I would…” Making his way back to him, Tweek leaned close to Craig’s face. “'Cause you’re gorgeous, in this moment… If I could bottle this up, I would…”

Craig threw out an arm, wrapping it around Tweek’s waste to keep him from leaving and holding him close. Even sitting, abet on a high stool, Craig was a good head taller than Tweek, not that it was stopping the singer from flustering the fuck out of him.

“So, suddenly, I’m in love with a stranger… I can’t believe he’s mine, yeah… And now all I see, is you, with fresh eyes, fresh eyes… Oooh… Oooh… Oooh…” Tweek let the microphone drop to the ground, throwing his arms around Craig’s neck as he stood on his tiptoes, smashing their lips together.

The crowd, already cheering from the song, lost their minds, screaming and whistling in approval.

Craig stood up, scooping Tweek into his arms, carrying him like a princess towards the doors of the community center. “If you were anyone else, I would be so mad,” he murmured softly. “But I seem to be unable to get mad at you, babe.”

Tweek grinned and snuggled closer to him. “I’m pretty lucky then, huh?”

“The luckiest.”

———-

The next day, Tweek called his agent, a first for him. He had never been the one to initiate contact before. The man on the other end of the line was surprised to get the call.

“I wrote a song and showed it at prom,” Tweek informed him. “It’s entirely possible someone recorded it and put it online. If they did, I don’t care, so don’t you dare try to get it taken down or anything. I’m emailing you the file, give it to whoever it is you give it to for this stuff. If you were going to ask, I did have fun, and the post prom was the best part. Bye now.” He hung up without waiting for him to say a word. He was still a bit salty over having to work on prom night, but it hadn’t been as bad as he had thought it would be. Though to be fair, that was entirely thanks to Craig.

After leaving the dance, they had returned to Tweek’s home and both had changed into sweatpants and t-shirts, though Tweek kept Craig’s jacket. They had then joined their friends at the mall, where post prom was being held. It had been a lot of fun, and Tweek received many compliments on what everyone was sure was going to be the new top of the charts hit.

“It’s a fuckin’ bop,” Clyde told him as the group lounged in the food court. They had chosen to sit by the wall rather than at a table. Craig was leaned against it with Tweek resting on his chest, his arms around him loosely. Token was beside him, Clyde laying with his head on his lap. Jimmy was sitting against the wheel of Timmy’s chair, and Jason was stretched out on his stomach in front of them.

“Thanks, Clyde,” Tweek said, smiling slightly. “I worked hard on that song.”

“It shows,” Token put in as Clyde nodded.

“Y-Yeah, Tweek,” Jimmy said, stealing a fry from Jason’s plate. “You r-r-rea-really kick s-s-ser-se-serious ass.” Jason swatted weakly at his hand, but gave a thumbs up in agreement, too tired to say anything.

“Timmy!”

Tweek felt his heart warm, grateful to have the support of his friends. Craig’s arms tightened around him and lips pressed into his soft hair.

“You did great, honey,” Craig cooed lowly to him. “I’m so proud of you.”

Soon after, they had gone home, tired and ready for bed. Craig stayed the night, leaving once they were both awake the next day.

He couldn’t help but feel a bit bad. Tweek put so much effort into his music, had even written two songs about him of all people to show his love, and Craig felt, dare he say, inadequate?

Did Tweek understand how much he loved him? How much he cared about, respected, and flat out adored him? He knew he wasn’t the best at expressing himself, but lately he had begun to feel like he wasn’t doing enough. Maybe it was due to Tweek declaring his feelings towards him on a world stage. The entire planet had literally heard Tweek singing about his love for Craig, and Craig had no way to match that…

Or did he?

The idea took shape in his mind, and he’s eyes grew wider as he thought of a solution. Running the rest of the way home, he jumped onto his computer, opening up Discord to message his friends in their group chat. Tweek wasn’t part of it only because he didn’t trust that it wasn’t being monitored at all points.

Typing quickly, he sent out: Do u guys want 2 start a band?

#tweek tweak #craig tucker #creek #musician au #fanfiction #south park #my writing #the song used is fresh eyes #by andy grammer #part two

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allthebest20 · 4 years

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Search Party: S1 (2016)

Created by Sarah-Violet Bliss, Charles Rogers, Michael Showalter

Starring Alia Shawkat and John Reynolds

This show was funny, enjoyable, and clever. I would give it a 6/10. I think Shawkat is a great actor, but she always plays characters that are, like, annoyingly realistic. Actually, in this show, they are all annoying realistic. Each of the four main characters remind me of real people I know and dislike. This is one of the things that makes it so good, tho! I have two complaints about the plot:

Warning: Spoilers

1. New York City has over 8 million people in it, so it’s just not realistic that they keep running into people they know over this two week period. I feel like they should have set the show in a slightly smaller city. I mean most cities could meet all the plot requirements: a market for weird demi-sexual performances, P.I.s, families with a ridiculous amounts of money, culty art stores, opportunities for actors and self-promoting non-profits.

2. why doesn’t Agnes Cho tell Chantal’s family about where she is? I mean, maybe she thought Chantal needed protection, but how can you watch someone’s family grieve like that and say nothing? It’s obvious that Agnes wants money too, and she could have collected the reward of a quarter of a million.

It was the character comedy that made the show enjoyable tho, and the season finale is very realistic and unexpected.

John Early plays the amoral white cis gay man we all know. The way he conducts himself in conversation is so on point. Unlike a narcissistic straight dude who typically talks only about himself, Early’s character Elliott does a great job at pretending like he cares about what you’re saying, but is actually judging you and manipulating the conversation to get something he wants. His whole cancer lie is funny, but a side plot I didn’t personally care that much about. I mean, it doesn’t really make sense (he has no contacts from high school anymore? what about social media? photos?), but it is funny how he bounces back so effortlessly. It seems to be a critique of cancel culture, especially how even when he’s briefly “cancelled,” he doesn’t actually feel any shame or change in anyway. As a rich, white man, he still has a network willing to prop him up with a book deal, and he ultimately pays no consequences. Of course, all this sets him up as the perfect little psychopath to help cover up a murder. It also sets up a lot of funny moments.

Portia, played by the super hot Meredith Hagner, is the theater kid who you didn’t really like, even though she was really nice, and now she’s going on to have a successful acting career on top of her family’s wealth. Like most Americans, I want my actors (and artists in general) to be poor and struggling before they make it big, but that’s rarely the case. I like how her character isn’t just dumb, sweet, or spoiled. She’s sometimes also clever, cold, and sad. She plays the insecure, image-obsessed millennial well. It’s almost easier for her to be a narcissist than Elliot, because we expect hot blonde actors to be narcissists, so she doesn’t have to play a role the same way he does. Of course, her character also fits into the plot perfectly: the hot lady who men drool over and everyone underestimates, who can also use her acting skills to lie and manipulate people.

John Reynolds’ character, Drew, is your classic boring-ass white man. He wants things to be normal and mundane so bad. He has boring friends, he says boring things, he has a boring job. He’s a good guy, a cutie, but dam, if he isn’t somewhere below average. I love how Drew is an UNPAID intern, and Dory and him live in a beautiful one bedroom apartment. It just screams “My parents pay my bills, but I don’t like to talk about it.”

Alia Shawkat plays the lead, Dory. I love the way they use music to show how she is creating this runaway mystery in her head, but it’s often ruined by outsiders dialogue. As a young millennial trying to find a satisfying career, I can identify with the mania she’s feeling, and it’s shown well. She’s constantly thinking “Is this a sign?” and “What should I be doing with my life?” Her character is really hard to read in the first season: why does she want to find Chantal? Is she trying too hard to create a dark mystery because she hates her own boring life? By the end of the season, I was beginning to think that maybe Chantal wasn’t in real trouble, but TV-bias did have me thinking something twisted was going to happen. I’m also not sure why Dory couldn’t go to Montreal alone or just with Drew, when it was clear her friends weren’t that into it. I do understand wanting desperately to know the truth.

The next two season’s explore Dory’s motives more, but I honestly wouldn’t strongly recommend them. Season two and three were both kind of anxiety producing: four cocky idiots trying to get a way with a murder in which they left behind a mountain of evidence, resulting in (SPOILER) Dory stupidly refusing to plead guilty and claim it was self-defense. It’s like despite everything, she still thinks she’ll get away with it OR (more likely) she just can’t come to terms with herself as a murderer.

They obviously should have called the cops after they killed Keith. As two educated white kids, they could have gotten away with it, even lied about the altercation to make it seem like Keith was more violent than he was. Elliot makes her second guess whether is was self-defense or not, even though Keith had been acting extremely sketchily towards her. Obviously, he didn’t deserve to die, but someone had to do something to get him off her. Ultimately, they all decide they are above the justice system, but I think Elliot is a little more to blame. The justice system is fucked, but not necessarily against them. If they had called the police immediately, they might have had to spend a few years (research tells me 0 to 12 before parole, average 3 to 5) in Canadian prison, but a man is dead, so maybe that’s okay.

It’s also worth mentioning Clare McNulty, although she’s really only in the last episode. Her character, Chantal, is hilariously normal: that girl who is so average looking and untalented, you think, well she must at least be friendly and humble, but astonishingly, she’s neither of those things. So often, TV shows only portray special characters, but like most of the characters in this show, Chantal is annoyingly normal and familiar. Her very existence reminds me of the assumptions we (or is it just me?) make about women’s confidence and morality levels.

It’s a funny show, relatable, realistic, and entertaining. I would recommend the first season, and the next 2 only if you are bored and have low-anxiety. I also just learned that Bowen Yang does a podcast about the show? I love him, so obviously I’ll give it a listen, though I can’t possible imagine what he could be saying about it.

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pxiao · 7 years

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Could ya give your thoughts on Zexal as a whole and tell is it really bad. can you?

As a whole post? Seems a bit vicious even for me. But as a whole I’ll say it, z-xal fans look away because as this is my pure opinions as a Z-xal hater. My opinions could be wrong and they can annoy you but remember this is my opinion and just as you have a right to be annoyed, I have a right to my opinion. Don’t whine if you find something you don’t like on a Z-xal hate piece.

The show is textbook at best and at worse just annoying with some horrible lessons. When the it first aired, I was willing to give it a try despite initially being put off by the character designs, if not just because I thought the fandom was being annoying. I got up to the cat girl episode till I just felt it was boring as all get out and stopped watching. It wasn’t a conspicuous decision either, I just didn’t feel like watching the next episode and I honestly forgot the show existed till Zexal 2 started and well by that point I didn’t give a damn. But I started to hear things about the show and well I honestly found it annoying and I watched it and I was right. Yoshida doesn’t seem skilled at creating characters, world building or even plotting.

Plot wise, a lot of the logic is ignored for trauma and angst. And I know that in Yu-Gi-Oh!, logic isn’t exactly common anyway but you still need some logic in people’s actions or there really isn’t any point in watching a show. If you watch the Yu-Gi-Oh! Abridged series, LittleKuriboh is doing a good job of pointing out the flaws of the Orichalcos season written by Yoshida. Like Atem’s duel against Rafael was started by Atem deciding to answer his challenge for rescue Professor Arthur … who was released for no reason before Atem even dueled Rafael and for no real reason either. Zexal is the same, a lot of episodes don’t do anything to advance the story, characters or even the world. It’s just duel of the week episodes which rarely have any effect on the world at all. Zexal’s story is generally duels of the week, some plot, more duels of the week and then final battle. There isn’t any rising action, it’s just exposition and then overdrawn climax. His attempts at “foreshadowing” are laughable. They don’t hint, they spell it out to the point we know what’s going to happen 99% percent of the the time. And lets face it, people like to watch shows that have some surprise as otherwise the show becomes a checklist and that was what Zexal felt like at times. It was less of a show and more of Yoshida’s checklist of the tropes that Yu-Gi-Oh! has done. A major plothole I found in the Barian onslaught was Shark’s attitude throughout the arc. Why did he go straight into war mode if he “knew Yuma’s feelings”. Yuma who spent the arc freaking out at the death and war that was going on, if Shark actually knew Yuma, he should know that a war is the last thing Yuma would ever want. But he spends the arc angsts over how he has to betray his friends. Why couldn’t he TALK to Yuma, while Astral is iffy, he should know how much of an influence that Yuma has on the alien and thus maybe a deal can be made. And if it couldn’t be, he could have at least tried before he lead a war that lead to his “friends” dying like a REAL ruler.

World building, ha. He doesn’t build worlds, he builds a blank slate that the characters “live” at. Heartland has no personality at all, despite being the city of the future there was nothing unique about it. Astral world and Barian worlds are just factions at war with that represent the concepts of order and chaos and that’s from the show TELLING US. We only see the Astral world dying and nothing about it’s people, the Barian world is just not shown at all except for some red rocks. If I had to compared Astral world and Barian world to say Arc-V’s worlds, it’s depressing. Arc-V has a bit of Chaos vs Order in the form of Academia and the Resistance and the difference in writing quality is depressing. Academia would is order and we get a taste of how messed up their ideological is from Sora, Serena and Edo. We see how the public openly supports their ideas, the children believe the lies that they’re making a better war and when they’re in danger they freak out as they thought of it as a game. Hell we see how they take their ideology to the extreme in the BB arc when Sanders and the students beg for Sanders to be carded as it follows their ideals. The resistance is chaos, as Shun states they had trouble creating a defense in time and it shows. The flashbacks show duelists not in any uniform, just attacking without any formation or plan, their bases are just tents huddled together and the Resistance didn’t even have a main base, it was different branches and by the time we see it, it’s all but dead. Maiami is defined by how free the setting is, there are a LARGE variety of dueling schools from You Show, Gongenzaka Dojo, LDS, the many different schools Yuya saw and Ryozanpaku. Each having a variety of philosophies and how the public acted show they had a healthy mix of positive, loving Entertainment duels, and negative traits, their bullying of Yuya in the past.

His characters are the worst, they aren’t really characters, just personality traits put together in the hopes of being a working personality. Most of the time, they’re just 2D cutouts. Don Thousand is a perfect example. In a story, the most important characters are the protagonist and the main enemy of the series as they shape what the show is. The worst thing you can do when making a main villain is making them easily replaceable. In the manga for Z-xal which was pretty similar to the anime Don was replaced while the story was going on because the artist didn’t like him and Yoshida EASILY replaced Don Thousand. That just proves that Don Thousand didn’t have a personality if he could be replaced by another villain so easily. In comparison, you can’t replace Zarc or Leo, they have shaped Arc-V plot and setting that if you take them out, the plot will change. He generally makes his protagonists overally perfect like what he did to Yusei in season 2 of 5D’s. Yuma is a horrible attempt to fix this, he had flaws for sure, but instead of Yuma growing, Yoshida made the show bend over backwards to make a flaw a virtue instead. The infuriating part is the show actually did a good job of showing his flaw but then everyone even the people that called out him earlier are telling to not change. You don’t make good characters that way, you destroy your show. Yoshida doesn’t do enough to build up the relationships that are supposed to form the backbone of the show and it feels hollow. A direct example is Yuya and Yuzu relationship vs Yuma and Kotori’s relationship. The couples are both childhood friends but the difference between their bonds is clear as day. Kotori is a side thought to Yuma at best and we never get an explanation of why Kotori and supposedly Yuma like each other. Their relationship development is Kotori screaming for Yuma and her getting jealous over him. Yuya and Yuzu? The first few episodes show how they understand each other the most and when something is up with one of them, they’re the first to realize it. Despite being separated for most of the show, Yuya and Yuzu continuously show support and love for each other while Yuma and Kotori barely interact despite being next to each other for the majority of the show. Arc-V shows plenty of times when Yuya puts her safety above everything and that includes his own ideals. Yuzu also puts Yuya’s safety over her own and her speeches are the only thing to reach him as the Zarc vs Ray/Reira duel showed. Fan reaction proves this, Yuya and Yuzu is one of the most popular ships in their fandom while Yuma and Kotori is hardly liked at all. And how he writes girls … Look Yu-Gi-Oh! isn’t going to win awards on how to write women unless you include Season 1 of Arc-V. But Yoshida is the worst at them, nearly every women he writes is obsessed over romance and plays little to no part in the story. Rio appeared as an independent girl that didn’t want to seen as part of Shark. And she became just that, she never made her own decisions ever and everything that came out of her mouth was about Shark and that’s it. She became his angst magnet. And based on how Aoi was written, I doubt he’s changed in Vr–ns.

Next I don’t think Yoshida understands the idea of a card game show. While card game shows are generally shonen series, they don’t have the same rules as a general shonen series. An enemy having a broken power in a regular shonen is accepted because the point of shonen is to make things unfair for the protagonist so the audience can feel something when they overcome it. That doesn’t work with card games, there has to be a SENSE of balance as card games are meant to be a game first and foremost. Otherwise the enemy comes across as overpowered to the point of ridiculousness. Don Thousand was overpowered to the point I was rolling my eye when he was literally breaking the rules of the game. From easily causing 50,000 points of damage, to summoning monsters with 10,000 and later 100,000 attack points. Don didn’t feel powerful, he felt like the writers were trying too hard to make him dangerous and instead came off as annoying.

But the worst part of this is how Yoshida never changes. Everything that he works on has a basic plot and character types and he never varies. His writing has the same ideas in the seasons he writes. And I’ve seen how some people defend him on this because of his writing style. I strongly disagree, authors can have similar themes and ideas but they should never make a series the exact same. Kasumi Ono was the director for 5d’s and Arc-V while there are similarities in themes and character points, it’s impossible to say they’re alike at all. Or the writer for Type-Moon, compared Fate/Stay Night and Fate/Extra. They take the same concept and play with it so the story is different. Authors don’t have to make everything original but the problem is Yoshida rarely changes the details at all.

#zxl damn it #wow that was a lot #even for me #I'm actually kinda tired now

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justanothercinemaniac · 7 years

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Epic Movie (Re)Watch #140 - Singin’ in the Rain

Spoilers below

Have I seen it before: Yes

Did I like it then: Yes.

Do I remember it: Yes.

Did I see it in theaters: No.

Format: Blu-ray

This post is dedicated to @hyla-brook, as I can no longer watch this movie without thinking of my friend.

1) This film is not only one of the best movie musicals of all time, but one of the best movies of all time period. More on that coming up.

2) The opening credits include the line, “Suggested by the song...” In fact, the entire film was written AFTER the songs with only two exceptions (“Moses” and “Make ‘Em Laugh”), with all the other songs already being released and known to the world at the time. This effectively makes Singin’ in the Rain one of the earliest karaoke musicals (alá Rock of Ages), but today the songs are known largely if not exclusively because of the long lasting popularity of this film.

3) The backstory given by Don (Gene Kelly) is a wonderful opening to the film for almost countless reasons.

youtube

For one, we get a strong establishment of the friendship and loyalty which exists between Don and Cosmo (Donald O’Connor) as relationship as important to the film as Don’s love with Kathy. We also get a clear establishment of the film’s sense of humor, giving us a nice juxtaposition of expectations vs reality (“Dignity, always dignity.”) and incredible slapstick moments. It is also one of the most accurate portrayals of how someone finds success in Hollywood: through an endless stream of shit jobs in the hopes that you’ll be noticed. Kelly’s and O’Connor’s comedic brilliance are on full display, and we also get our fist inkling of the tumultuous relationships between Don and Lina.

Don [after he gets a lead in a movie, to Lina who was a jerk before]: “Are you doing anything tonight, Ms. Lamont? [She shakes her head no.] That’s funny...I’m busy.”

4) In case you ever think Hollywood making normal people feel self conscious about themselves is a modern invention:

Female Movie Patron [while Lina is onscreen]: “She’s so refined. I think I’ll kill myself.”

(GIF originally posted by @casey-jones)

5) Lina Lamont.

Lina’s character is established immediately from the second she opens her mouth: drunk on power, more than a bit of a moron, and a selfish jerk. She’s hysterical and Jean Hagen totally loses herself in the character. No, that’s not Hagen’s normal speaking voice, but you thought it didn’t you? That’s how incredible she is in the role, and it is easy to forget how much brilliance she shows off when compared to the trio of Kelly, O’Connor, and Debbie Reynolds. This film wouldn’t be nearly the classic it is without Jean Hagen as Lina Lamont.

6) In case there was any question: I am Cosmo.

Studio Rep [about Lina]: “The studio has to keep their stars from looking ridiculous at any cost.”

Don: “No one’s got that much money.”

7) There are going to be so many Cosmo quotes in this recap, I’m just warning you. Because, you know, I’m Cosmo basically.

Don [being swarmed by fans]: “Hey Cos, do something! Call me a cab!”

Cosmo: “Okay, you’re a cab!”

8) Debbie Reynolds as Kathy Seldon.

What on earth can I say about one of the greatest actresses of all time in only her fourth credited screen real knocking it out of the park? I honestly don’t know but I’ll try to figure it out as I type. Reynolds is...perfection. In a trio of incredible performances I think she may give the strongest. Her chemistry with Kelly is great, subtle, trusting, and she does just such a wonderful job of making Kathy an amazing character. She’s not some manic pixie dream girl. She has her own desires, her own dreams, her own sacrifices she’s willing to make. Reynolds is able to portray Kathy as honestly good while still remaining interesting, honestly optimistic without being too naive or annoying, and honesty is just the word to apply to Reynolds’ whole work in the film. I love it.

9) One of the things I LOVE about this film is that Don and Kathy are not a “love at first sight” type of relationship. Don’s hitting on her is obviously because he’s a cad, she shuts him down, and then they’re able to have this unique conflict with each other where they both sort of act like jerks. Yet later they develop an honest connection with and affection for each other in such little time, it speaks greatly to the chemistry of the performers. One of my favorite love stories from this era of cinema.

10) The advent of the talkies are captured pretty accurately in this film. Everyone is skeptical about it, thinks it’ll be a fad, but the few likes Cosmo and studio head RF Simpson see how it could (and probably will be) the future.

11) I don’t think there is a better showcase for Donald O’Connor’s skills as a physical comedian than in “Make ‘Em Laugh”.

According to IMDb:

Donald O'Connor recalled, "I was smoking four packs of cigarettes a day then, and getting up those walls was murder. They had to bank one wall so I could make it up and then through another wall. We filmed that whole sequence in one day. We did it on a concrete floor. My body just had to absorb this tremendous shock. Things were building to such a crescendo that I thought I'd have to commit suicide for the ending. I came back on the set three days later. All the grips applauded. [Gene Kelly] applauded, told me what a great number it was. Then Gene said, "Do you think you could do that number again?" I said, "Sure, any time". He said, "Well, we're going to have to do it again tomorrow". No one had checked the aperture of the camera and they fogged out all the film. So the next day I did it again! By the end my feet and ankles were a mass of bruises."

The entire number is just packed full of classic Charlie Chaplin or Buster Keaton style gags all done to a fast pace number and it gets to the reason this old school movie musical has lasted the test of time where others have failed:

Most old school movie musicals have songs which don’t serve the film AT ALL they could be totally skipped and nothing would change. In some respects this film is the same. HOWEVER: the numbers are just so wildly and fantastically fun and entertaining that you are never bored by watching them. You are just so focused on what is going on and enjoying it so damn much you wouldn’t dream of skipping it (for the most part). THAT is why this film is such a classic. THAT is why it stands the test of time.

12)

RF [after pitching a talkie to Don]: “Lockwood and Lamont! They talk!”

Lina: “Of course we talk! Don’t everybody?”

Man RF, you did NOT think that through.

13) For me, “Beautiful Girls” is always the number I want to skip. It just is not nearly as entertaining as some of the other ones. It does nothing for me.

(GIF source unknown [if this is your GIF please let me know].)

14) Be still my beating heart.

Don: “Kathy I’m trying to say something to you but I’m such a ham. I guess I’m unable to without the proper setting.”

My heart doesn’t get mushy romantic for much, but "You Were Meant For Me”...It is just so beautifully staged, the lighting and setting is incredible, and Kelly is able to portray such honest emotion in the song that...I LOVE IT!

15) “Moses” is another example of a number which really doesn’t serve the plot in anyway but is just so damn entertaining I don’t really care! Donald O’Connor is great again, and we get some nice bromantic fun!

16) We get like a solid ten minutes of this film’s excellent comedy in two back to back scenes: when the filmmakers are trying to deal with the sound equipment, and when they see just how poorly it worked in the final film. It’s accurate really to today too: audiences will forgive crappy visuals but if your sound is shit then your film is shit. I know this because I’ve directed a number of films with shit sound (most of them back in high school).

17) Don’s conflict is perfectly summed up in one line:

Don: “The picture’s a museum piece. I’m a museum piece.”

The film’s mostly a musical comedy so it’s easy to forget about Don’s conflict, but he’s an actor in a changing industry and his first encounter with Kathy had him questioning his skills. Everything he does for the movies in this film is driven by that issue.

18) “Good Morning”.

Another song which is totally superfluous and serves the plot in no real way, I totally love it. It shows the trio at their best together in a wildly fun and entertaining number. But it was a pain to shoot!

After they finished the "Good Morning" number, Debbie Reynolds had to be carried to her dressing room because she had burst some blood vessels in her feet. Despite her hard work on the "Good Morning" number, Gene Kelly decided that someone should dub her tap sounds, so he went into a dubbing room to dub the sound of her feet as well as his own.

During a TV interview Debbie Reynolds shared while filming "Good Morning" one of her feet was bleeding, requiring flesh-colored bandages beneath her hose. As the trio collapsed on the overturned sofa, she turned her head to Donald O'Connor and said, "Thank God that's over." Watch closely and you can see her say it during the dubbed jolly laughter.

Their effort yielded one of the best numbers in the film!

19) The iconic titular song/number: “Singin’ in the Rain”.

Pretty much everything you need to know about Kelly’s devotion and hardwork in the film can be summed up by this fact:

The "Singing in the Rain" number took all day to set up--and Gene Kelly was very ill (some say with a fever over 101). When it was all set up, Kelly insisted on doing a take--even though the blocking was only rudimentary (starting and ending positions only), and the director was ready to send him home. He ad-libbed most of it and it only took one take, which is what you see on film.

Kelly’s sheer joy and the memorable/simple imagery is what makes the number so iconic. It is truly relatable, and its existence makes walking in the rain just a bit less melancholy.

20) Hey, remember how I’m Cosmo?

RF: “Cosmo, remind me to give you a raise!”

Cosmo: “Oh RF!”

RF: “Yes?”

Cosmo: “Give me a raise.”

21) Okay, “Broadway Melody”...

“Broadway Melody” is THE most superfluous number in the film and honestly the one which could probably be cut. It is very entertaining - and much more engrossing than its equivalent in Kelly’s An American in Paris in my opinion - but it’s just so damn long! It works as it’s own short film. However the visuals are incredibly strong and Kelly is in top form, so it obviously doesn’t ruin the film. But honestly it is the song you are most easy to skip and keep watching.

22) Aww, these two...

Don [to Kathy]: “From now on there’s only one fan I’m worried about.”

23) So far Lina has been a funny antagonistic dunce in the film, but damn if at the end she doesn’t turn into a manipulative evil jerk. I LOVE IT! She shows off she’s smarter than she’s shown [at least a little], boosts her own public image, almost sabotages Kathy’s career, and tries to extort RF into giving her more power. It is the fact she flies so close to the sun which causes her downfall, but damn if she ain’t just EVIL!!!!!

24) According to IMDb:

In the "Would You" number, Kathy Selden (Debbie Reynolds) is dubbing the voice of Lina Lamont (Jean Hagen) because Lina's voice is shrill and screechy. However, it's not Reynolds who is really speaking, it's Jean Hagen herself, who actually had a beautiful deep, rich voice. So you have Jean Hagen dubbing Debbie Reynolds dubbing Jean Hagen. And when Debbie is supposedly dubbing Jean's singing of "Would You", the voice you hear singing actually belongs to Betty Noyes, who had a much richer singing voice than Debbie.

25) These three are just so happy to embarrass Lina.

26) Kathy’s teary eyed look at Don when she realizes he WASN’T being a total jerk by having her sing for Lina and in fact letting the whole world know who she is just...be still my heart.

I miss Debbie Reynolds.

Singin’ in the Rain is a classic of cinema. Even though it falls into the trope of songs which don’t advance the plot, the songs are just SO fun to watch! This film is pure entertainment, with great acting on all parts (especially from the trio of Kelly, O’Connor, and Reynolds) and just honest character writing. It’s SO good! Go watch it if you haven’t!

#Singin' in the Rain #Debbie Reynolds #Gene Kelly #Donald O'Connor #Singin in the Rain #Jean Hagen #Epic Movie (Re)Watch #Movie #Film #GIF

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the-apocryphal-one · 7 years

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I binged all of the anime because I got a fourteen day free trial for it and if I start slacking on watching something I never finish it because I get distracted easily and don’t want to get charged. I’m a cheapskate. So yeah, I didn’t take it in small chunks like I probably should have.

BUT ANYWAY, it forced me to watch Chiaki die again. Except this time it’s worse! And then we see her wondering what happened to her video game buddy as she’s rapidly bleeding out on the floor and he’s unsympathetically staring at her. THAT’S ALWAYS FUN.

From what I can tell, the anime’s kind of controversial with fans, and I can definitely see why. The brainwashing thing was cheap. I don’t actually dislike the idea, but it was made far too potent an it should have been. Junko could have used a combination of brainwashing and pushed them over the edge with her own ideological indoctrination.

But one really big issue I had with it and don’t want to give a pass, was it made the ending of the second game almost completely pointless. There was always a threat of every character (barring the player character) around you dying, regardless of who they are, or how helpful to the plot they may or may not be. With the last episode, they just toss that out the window and go “Everyone’s alive! Don’t ask us to explain it.” The second game’s cast surviving still retaining their old personalities and memories through pure force of will? Okay, fine, I’ll take it. It’s not too out there and it gives us more closure. Like you said, it’s cheesy, but I’ll take it. It doesn’t really take away too much from the ending of the game. But the anime just revives everyone? SERIOUSLY?? And not only that, they killed off Kyoko just to bring her back to life? Why? What was the point of that at all? I remember how Monokuma and Makoto in the first game keep saying how it wasn’t like some manga or anime, and once someone was dead, they stayed dead, and everyone had to deal with it. Oh, the irony! Death isn’t treated at all like it was in the games and considering how much of a big part it played in them, that’s kind of a big deal. I’m all for happy, even if at least somewhat unrealistic, endings and usually don’t get as upset over “Disney endings” as other people, but even I have limits on how much I’m willing to roll with. I can see people arguing with “they deserved a happy ending,” and I won’t deny that at all, but this was a little too much for me. I can understand why people like it but it’s just too happy for me. With any media as dark and grisly as DR3, I don’t like happy endings like that too much. And then they didn’t even bring back Chiaki? Come on, if you’re going to bring everyone back to life, why leave out Chiaki? Oh well. At least we have Ibuki. I’m still going to pretend it didn’t happen.

For the things I liked, though…

Izuru Kamukura was really cool, and the writers did a good job of writing him. He unironically said “memes” so that automatically makes him more likable. I’m aware of the actual meaning of the word, but considering how memes are the language of the internet, there’s no doubt the fanbase got a kick out of it. I wish we saw more of him. And I wish we got to see Hajime/Izuru more in the Future arc. That would have been really nice. I’d like to have seen the weird fusion of the personalities between Hajime and Izuru. But how did his hair grow so long suddenly? Was one of the things they did to him make his hair grow out? And how did they make him lucky? That’s some technology they’ve got if they can make you arguably luckier than Nagito through surgery. But yeah, seeing Izuru was amazing. All things considered, it makes a lot of sense why he’d be so bored and apathetic about everything. Izuru’s great.

I like the “game” in the Future arc and the idea of the forbidden moves. That was a really neat idea. Kyoko’s forbidden move was pretty dumb because of how pointless it was, but the idea of it was really neat. I wish Makoto & company wasn’t thrown into another killing game again, but they did something a little different than that so it wasn’t as boring as it very easily could have been. I’m really glad that you told me to watch the two arcs at the same time because the color palette and overall tone is way too dark to sit through twelve episodes of.

I’m pretty split on the Despair arc. I liked it starting out but when mind control started becoming such an important part of the plot, it started going downhill. Like I said, I don’t think the idea of brainwashing needs to be taken out completely, just nerfed. It would help Junko manipulate so many people to her side so quickly but wouldn’t be able to control their minds. I thought brainwashing in DR2 seemed to be used interchangeably with “indoctrinating” but it can be used in this context too. Being able to control people’s minds seems to not mesh too well with what Junko said on how she was able to convert people. I went back and watched a few snippets of the sixth trial and while nothing too explicit, they don’t exactly seem to be implying the same thing. There is one thing that blatantly contradicts the second game–in DR3, Junko is able to recruit Izuru by just taking advantage of his boredom, but in the second game, she says that she, quote, “broke his spirit.” There’s no reason Junko would lie about that. When she lies for kicks like that, she immediately confesses once she gets the reaction she wants. You could stretch it but ehhhh. I’d talk about a few other things that could have been taken advantage of, but the mind control brainwashing was one of the worst parts of the entire series for me.

On the other hand, the Despair arc added to Hajime’s character and added even more to his relationship with Chiaki. I liked it a lot, and seeing them play video games with each other was sweet. It was even sweeter when she hung outside of the reserve students’ part of the school waiting for him. You’d think Hajime would have told her he wouldn’t be around anymore.

I don’t have very much to say on the new characters. I feel like I should have cared about them more, but they didn’t do much for him. Yukizome was fine and had some nice moments with her students but that’s about it. The “mastermind”’s idea was so dumb, it actually took me a while to figure out what was going on. The only characters whose arc did something for me was Ruruka and Seika. I think Sakakura being in love it Munakata was supposed to be a plot twist? It was so obvious it’s hard to tell. Oh, and Mitarai exists. I cannot name one character trait he has because I forgot about him.

I know why they couldn’t, and why they didn’t, but DR3 should have focused on the pre-existing cast. All of the characters are already set up. Introductions were minimal, and people are familiar with them. Newcomers would already be mostly lost (and from the reviews, they certainly were), so why not go all out? Better completely lose everyone not familiar with the series than give us new characters who have to have their arcs go through so quickly. So many new characters in just 24 episodes was way too much for me to remember. Or care about them. Or at least for me.

I promise, I enjoyed the anime and I want to re-watch it in the English dub before my Funimation free trial expires since it’s apparently an official abridged kind of thing and Kyoko’s final line was an outtake. That is way too funny to pass up. There were a few big problems (there’s probably more but the mind control and the overly happy ending were the biggest ones for me) but it didn’t nearly destroy it for me. I think the set up for the tragedy at Hope’s Peak pretty well. The actual slaughter was a little bit rushed, but it was still good. And gory, but it worked. Izuru blankly watching everything go down just to get some kind of entertainment was…yeah. It pretty much tells you all you need to know about him. It makes perfect sense why Junko would lie about the Hope’s Peak Tragedy, and it certainly makes more sense for such an apathetic person not to do something like that. When the explanation behind it was first presented to us, I thought Izuru just lost his mind just because he was nothing. He was built to be nothing but a figurehead with a bunch of talents and he got sick of it. I’m completely fine with the different explanation given to us. I want to talk about what other stuff I like about it, but I just plain enjoyed it, and want to re-watch it soon. After I watch the anime of the first game, of course.

I could complain about it some more but I don’t really feel like saying so many negative things about something I liked. XD

Glad you enjoyed the anime! I did too! And yeah, it is pretty divisive among the fandom, but don’t let haters ruin it for you and vice-versa. If you liked it, you liked it.

Yes how could they watching Chiaki die again sucked. And in such an awful way too. At least we got to see Izuru cry a little but that’s like the only happy part of it. That and the fact he didn’t kill her (like I and everyone else thought). Cinnamon roll did not deserve that :(

I’m actually kind of okay with the brainwashing thing? I do think it could have been done better, but we only have Junko’s word that she’s charismatic enough to turn people into a terrorist cult, and the class was so unified at that point she couldn’t have converted them one by one (look how fast they noticed Mikan was missing). Even Izuru didn’t buy that “despair = wonderful!” shtick and only hung around because he was bored. I think a mix would have worked better–like Mikan and Nagito are so unstable I can see Junko being able to push them over the edge, but people like Ibuki and Nekomaru? They’d probably have needed some kind of mind control.

They kiiiiiiiind of explain it with Hajizuru using his Ultimate Everything to bring everyone back and undo the brainwashing. As for Kyoko: @hopeymchope actually wrote a post explaining that Kyoko’s fake-out death was meant to serve as a parallel to Chapter 5 of the first game. Rather than sacrificing Makoto to save herself, she sacrifices herself to save Makoto, and that showcases her development. And in that vein, yeah, I see why they did it. I just wish they hadn’t included so many other fake-out deaths, or that they hadn’t done it in the first place since they wrote themselves into a corner.

(I am right with you in the throes of saltiness that they didn’t bring Chiaki back. So salty I’m writing a fic that does hello shameless self-plugging)

The fanbase went nuts when he first said “memes”. There were memes about him saying memes (speaking of, that scene is even funnier in the English version). But yes, Izuru Kamukura ended up being one of the best parts of the anime. He was written really well and got some good character development. It shot him right up to one of my favorite characters. Not bad for a guy who got maybe five minutes of screentime in his source game.

Yeah, I also wish we got to see more of “fused” Hajime + Izuru. The little we did see was really cool.

Nobody knows how his hair got so long so fast. It just…exploded out of his skull. It is one of the unanswered mysteries of DR (along with how it always looks like it’s in a shampoo commercial. Seriously, those locks have volume). Ditto for how you magically implant luck into someone.

Monokuma Hunter was a neat game. I remember when the anime was still running, people had a lot of fun guessing the character’s forbidden actions. There were also some funny jokes about them (like Kiyotaka being the mastermind because Makoto couldn’t run in the hall). I think I like Future Arc less than Despair Arc simply because they don’t let you get attached enough to the newcomers, or else make it really obvious when they’re going to off someone.

I actually buy that Junko was lying (or at least exaggerating) about her abilities and how she swayed everyone in the second game, since her goal was to drive them into despair and possess their bodies. So making things look as bad as possible to further that goal is something I can see her doing. In a different vein, I took Junko’s line about breaking Izuru’s spirit to mean she thought she’d broken his spirit, and never realized he was more interested in watching the hope vs despair conflict than in despair.

Yeeeeeeeeees the Hinanami was so cute, one of the highlights of Despair Arc. And seeing more Hajime was great, especially pre-SDR2 Hajime! There’s an amazingly marked difference between how he acts when he thinks he’s a “nobody” and when he thinks he isn’t, cool to analyze. Hajime actually didn’t know he wouldn’t be returning from the project, so that’s why he didn’t tell Chiaki.

Yeah, a lot of the newer cast didn’t stand out to me. Just about the only ones I liked were Seiko and Koichi. Chisa’s okay at times, and…that’s it. Just wasn’t enough screentime for the others. Ahahaha yeah, Juzo being gay was supposed to be a twist, but half the fanbase had guessed it by then. Ryota is…ugh. Do not like him. And the less said about the mastermind the better.

I think Izuru does have some pent-up resentment over how everyone’s used him (his dialogue in Chapter 0 sounded pretty damn bitter). But I also like the fact they made him a neutral observer rather than snapping, it actually serves to contrast him pretty well with Junko. They’re both geniuses, perpetually bored, and seeking a way out of it–but whereas Junko gets off to despair, Izuru doesn’t. He doesn’t enjoy suffering, while she does, but he also doesn’t care enough to intervene. And while he can see the unpredictability of despair, he finds value and interest in hope too, while Junko just thinks that hope is stagnant. It made him a much deeper and more interesting character compared to the game, where he was more a “shadow” for Hajime.

The anime of the first game is...um...let’s just say it skips over a lot of things. It’s definitely not something I’d buy membership for, but if you’re already using your free trial...

There’s actually not a lot of places you can go from here, once you watch the dubbed DR3. There’s some supplementary material you can read if you want, but that was pretty much the last of the HPA arc. The newest game, NDRV3, did come out, but it hasn’t been released to the West yet–won’t til this September. So again, that’s an entire section of spoilers you need to avoid.

#dangan ronpa 3 #submission #answers

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insert-witty-comment · 7 years

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Hello everyone.Last time on Hawkins Book Club, we learned what synchronicity actually is, time-traveling Neo-Nazis are sticklers for freshly cut grass, there was once a guy who flew around the US in a flying saucer with eight women to look for gold, the KKK uses magick, MK-Ultra actually was connected to Montauk, why the Demogorgon was attracted to Eleven, JFK’s brother liked to trip out on LSD with Nazi rapists, skinheads are actually kind, experienced aura-readers, Mark Hamill is literally the reincarnation of an alien from another universe, the Star Wars films are documentaries, there were Hitler-clones in existence, the Third Reich tried to access the Upside-Down (meaning that we could have had Stranger Things be about the Demogorgon murdering SS Stormtroopers and Hitler clones), Cthulhu and the Elder Gods are real, there could be a whole bunch of UFO-flying Nazis camped out in Antarctica and inside the Earth, George Bush’s dad was insane and there might be a good chance that Brenner is Eleven’s father.First of all, I would like to apologize for not updating this little review column thing last week. There wasn’t an E-book version of this book available, so I had to order a physical copy from a rather… um…. let’s just say “colorful” individual in Wisconsin. To my surprise, when it finally got here I discovered that it was signed by the author himself, so that’s a neat bonus. Speaking of which, the primary author of 1998’s Montauk: The Alien Connection is a new member to the Montauk Party; a guy named Stewart Swerdlow. Without further ado, let’s reconvene the Book Club and jump in.Our old friend Peter Moon writes the Introduction. Here he states that our education system has lied about the nature of space and time.“The biggest secret of time and space that has been unlocked is that these very components of our physicality can be manipulated. This is still a novel idea to conventional scientists, scholars and news media who are manipulated from birth. Manipulation of consciousness comes under the heading of ‘mind control,’ a subject which has never been fully embraced by major media.”Jesus Christ Moon, just let it go. I can’t believe that he’s STILL bitter over being blocked from television. Anyway, he says that mind control is integral to understanding space and time.“The human brain is actually a perfect computer which is fully capable of serving as a tool for cosmic enlightenment to its host. The problem is that this response in mankind has been short-circuited due to any number of various factors. These could include aliens, ancient priesthoods, religious indoctrination, youth groups and the CIA’s documented mind control project known as MK-Ultra. MK-Ultra was a 20th century ‘modernization’ of ancient techniques such as those employed by the ancient Assassins, a Middle Eastern cult during the Middle Ages who programmed subjects to kill through the use of hashish.”I’m starting to think that Ubisoft should be cutting this guy a check too. Anyway, Moon then goes on to claim that not only do truth serum drugs force people to spill their secrets, they also “can be used to tap the collective unconscious”, meaning that someone injected with them would suddenly have omnipotent knowledge about the entire universe… somehow. Moon suggests that we start asking people injected with truth serum about God, evolution “and the very nature of reality” because of this. He also touches on the head of MK-Ultra, Dr. Ewen Cameron and the LSD experiments, interestingly enough. He also states that Preston Nichols now believes that there were “Montauk Girls” in addition to the Boys and that there are literally hundreds of these programmed people all over Long Island. This leads into Moon introducing Stewart Swerdlow, the guy who was given the pseudo name of “Stan Campbell” in Montauk Revisited. You may remember him as the guy who shot Jesus in the face. Regardless, Duncan Cameron helpfully chimes in to say that this guy is an even more powerful psychic than he is. I didn’t know there was a sliding scale of psychic powers, but whatever.Chapter 1 talks about the 1943 Philadelphia Experiment which I’m sure you’re quite familiar with by this point, but it comes with a twist. It focuses on a Nazi named Johannes von Gruber. Why is he there? Well it turns out the Nazis were helping out the Americans with their teleportation.“Such an accomplishment would eliminate war on Earth because whoever controlled this technology would be invincible. The major governments of the world – the United States, Germany, Britain, Russian, and France – would then band together to eliminate the lesser powers and races of the Earth. They planned to beam vast conquering armies anywhere in the universe they desired. The new world government rule the known universe! For this the Reich was willing to unite with the United States. Because of the contacts that the Reich had with a certain group of ‘visitors,’ the United States was also willing to lay aside ideological differences. Each side believed that it would eventually control the entire plan.”………………………………………………………………………………There are so many things wrong with this paragraph alone that it would take an entire post just to point them all out. So I’m going to just move on.Anyway, the experiment actually starts and the shit immediately hits the fan; equipment starts sparking, men start falling overboard, people literally start melting into the floor. So von Gruber decides to jump overboard himself. He woke up at Montauk in 1960 and was immediately accosted by an American military officer and two grey aliens. They strapped him to a chair, gave him a brief update on how that whole “World War II” thing panned out, and another alien came in, tried to comfort him, and then immediately electroshocked him to death. He then rocketed up toward Heaven, complete with angelic guides (because I guess Heaven allows Nazis in now). He then experienced a life review,“Then he was told that he had to complete something on Earth. He was shown a woman in labor in a brand new hospital. The next thing he knew, he was inside a tube of light heading toward her.”Oh God, please tell me this isn’t going where I think its going.But of course, my prayers go unanswered. So cut to a woman named Eleanor giving birth to the author, Stewart Swerdlow. In an interesting synchronicity with Stranger Things, this guy was born on November 5th, 1956.Yes, you read that right, 1956.Somehow, the aliens or angels or whatever sent the Nazi back four years from 1960 to be reborn. No, that doesn’t make any sense, and I’m not going to even try to explain it. So while you’re trying to wrap your head around that, Swerdlow then claims that Yakov Sverdlov was his great-uncle. So how does the first Chairman of the Soviet Union relate to a reincarnated Nazi in the body of an American kid? Well, his grandfather helped form the Communist Party in America and his father worked on military projects in the Southwest. His mother was the daughter of a Gypsy in central Europe who had this experience;“When my grandmother was a little girl in Austria, she was playing outside with two cousins when she glanced up and saw the image of a man who looked exactly like the Jack of Spades in playing cards. Quickly, she told her cousins to look up at it. Immediately, they fell dead to the ground.”Way to go Grandma.“Shortly after that incident, my grandmother was sent to America to live with relatives. Amazingly, nearly a century later, I was involved with a group of government related individuals who were trying to understand the meaning of a message from hyperspace. Beamed from outside the Earth, the message was an image of a being who resembled the Jack of Spades!”Hey aliens, next time can you try making a message that doesn’t kill little girls? And maybe one that actually makes sense? Anyway, the rest of the chapter is just Swerdlow’s turn to recount his shitty childhood, and it’s somehow even worse than that of Nichols and Moon. First off, he said that he saw the spirits of the dead all over the place, there was a constant ringing in his ears, colors “flashed in his eyes” and he had glimpses of the future events that always came to pass. He was constantly frightened and suffering from nightmares. In addition;“Although brilliant in school, I found it slow-paced and boring. Usually I stayed home pretending to be sick, entertaining myself with psychic and mental games. Practically friendless, I found people my own age to be childish and stupid. Instead I preferred the company of the adults, particularly the elderly. For some reason, I enjoyed hearing stories about the old days, especially the 1930’s and 1940’s. I loved watching war movies, but I was ashamed to tell anyone that I always privately cheered for the Germans because my background is Jewish. Interestingly enough, I also cheered for Indians in Western movies.”So I guess this poor boy was still being influenced by his past fanatical beliefs and memories from his time as a loyal officer of the Nazi Party who was also psychic who could see the future, dead people, auras and “mind-patterns”. This seems like something that Stephen King would write, and to be honest I would probably read it. It got even worse for the poor kid as he was constantly being abducted by aliens and exposed to painful experiments by them.Chapter 3 describes one such abduction he experienced when he was six. So the aliens took young Stewart on a quick tour around the world and then brought him to an alien fleet and a council of aliens. Here, a giant butterfly telepathically explains that its species used its DNA to create Earth’s butterflies which are used to “monitor magnetism and know how to adjust it so that it has a beneficial effect on the environment (yes, really). Moths were created as a negative aspect of this by the “dark side.” The butterfly also explains that its species hitchhikes with humanoid aliens in order to populate other worlds and to adopt humanoid “spiritual students”, one of which was Stewart.“Finally, it said that it was time for me to communicate with the other beings, but it wanted me to know that for the rest of my stay on Earth, it would send Monarch butterflies to greet and comfort me. Whenever I saw a white butterfly at an opportune moment, there was a message for me. As the grand butterfly communicated with me, pulsating glows emanated from its beautiful wings.”Next time I see a butterfly, I’m crushing it to fend off these aliens. Stewart is then approached by a big white praying mantis which scares the hell out of him, and a fish person who states that humans had “marine origins”. He then passes out and re awakens in a chair surrounded by more aliens. First a lizard person explains that he is a defector of a massive empire trying to take over the galaxy. He states that thousands of years ago his people came to Earth in a ship that is now the moon. Another ship would come before the end of this century and reawaken the army currently in stasis underground after being defeated by the “Lyraen Empire”. These “reptilians” also maintain bases on Venus and other moons, reproduce mostly by cloning and state that Stewart will eventually convert them to “the Light” because his soul was already an emissary to them long ago. Next up is an alien literally described as looking like the Creature from the Black Lagoon. He claims that his people were the original inhabitants of Earth but were devastated by humans and aliens. However, pockets of them still exist in the deepest parts of the oceans, and they worked as liaisons between the Atlanteans and the whales and dolphins. Apparently these sea mammals are advanced races from another galaxy. I don’t know how advanced they could be if they are so easily hunted down by Japanese whalers, but whatever. Anyway, the Gill-men were transported to Neptune by other aliens.“Continuing, he told me that I have dolphin DNA; therefore, I could learn to communicate with his species in order to help mankind and the dolphin/whale systems.”Oh, so I guess Swerdlow will be the one giving us the heads up when the Vogons get ready to demolish Earth. Next, a Thin Man introduces himself as a representative of “the Federation of Planets”, which is composed of 120 member civilizations, and that they’ll let Earth join if we successfully fend off an invasion by the reptilian empire by ourselves. So I guess their membership requirements are a tad bit more stringent than the UN. He also explains that all of the alien races were speaking to young Stewart because they all contributed DNA to his creation, which his “soul-personality” already agreed to and traveled to other galaxies and alternate universes as training, and that there would be further conditioning in his new life. Seeing as how Stewart is getting all of this dumped on him at the tender age of six, he responds by vomiting all over the alien ambassadors (seriously). This didn’t really seem to faze them as a grey alien then steps over the puddle of vomit to inform the terrified boy that they will be regularly abducting him to check on him, because his body contained chemicals that the greys needed. He also informed Stewart that if his mission fails, then the other alien races would probably fight amongst themselves and bring their war to Earth. Again, Stewart was six when they told him this. At the same age you were worrying about your first day of Kindergarten, this kid was being told that if he screwed up, he would kick off an intergalactic war.So you know, no pressure!So then a Ethereal) identifies himself as a Sirian and tells him that the Sirians created the Egyptian civilization and gave the Torah to the Jewish people. They also created the Crystal Skull, so I guess this means that yes, there actually is a reason for aliens to exist in the Indiana Jones movies. They also possesses the most advanced technology in the universe and intentionally create conflict between the various races to foster evolution. Also, Stewart’s “soul-personality” came from them, so he’s simultaneously both a reincarnated alien and a Nazi. This particular Sirian said that his and the poor boy’s soul-personalities were linked, and he would serve as a guide. As Stewart got older, more memories of his past lives would emerge, and when his “alternate selves come together”, his mission would begin. Stewart was then unceremoniously dumped back in his bed, where he understandably woke up screaming in terror.After this, Stewart would have nightmares about the incident and began developing his psychic abilities. Some strange force compelled him to watch literally everything in the science-fiction genre and read about space travel.“My frustration grew as I realized that there was absolutely no one on the face of the Earth with whom I could converse. Invariably, I wanted to speak about my knowledge of what lay beyond physical reality but was afraid of others’ reactions. In those days (the late 50’s and 60’s), UFOs were still considered to be from the land of the mentally ill.”You know, as opposed to now where they’re accepted as scientific fact. When he got older, he started getting abducted almost every night to be instructed about “physical reality”, time travel and other topics. He woke up extremely exhausted the next morning each time. Because of this, in school he excelled in everything, but was bored and had no patience for other kids and people in general. One day when he was eleven, he was abducted by three greys and taken to a small room with a screen showing a conveyor belt. The aliens telepathically told him to watch pictures appearing on the screen and meat slices corresponding to them and asked to determine if he would eat it or not. This test went on for a bit with all sorts of creatures appearing on screen, and every time he would answer “yes” to something, the taste of it would appear in his mouth. He eventually got incredibly sick because of this and the aliens dumped him back in his bed, pissed because he didn’t finish the test. Stewart was disturbed as he realized that the aliens would have had to kill all of those creatures to get the meat, and one of the pictures was of a man.Chapter 4 talks about his teenage years. His family moved from Brooklyn to Suffolk County Long Island (My home county) and the abductions increased, but in an astral form. He frequently woke up naked in a large room on a bench with a group of other humans and they were educated on their roles as soldiers for the aliens. When Stewart was thirteen, he started “dreaming” about being abducted to a government facility where he was chased by military personnel. When he woke up, he would always see “the face of a blond man surrounded by red light” laughing at him from his bedroom window. He felt like the man was related to him. Also at this point he started undergoing some horrifying examinations by the greys, which are so fucking disgusting that I will not be retyping them here.At this point, he started having a “deep longing for children” and felt that he was a father who missed his kids. This feeling was confirmed when at seventeen he woke up strapped to chair (fully clothed instead of naked for once) and was approached by a grey and a “blond alien”, while two humans in military uniforms watched. He was shown a baby girl that was a hybrid between a human and grey, and was informed that she was his child cobbled together from his genetics. In fact, he fathered multiple children; some of which died and the others were taken to a “safe world”. He was shown this child because the aliens wanted to see if he would form a bond. He did, so the aliens kicked him back to Earth. After this he had the uncontrollable urge to heavily exercise and keep his body in peak condition. The aliens also put in a chip in his eyes that turned them into cameras and gave the aliens some control over where the eyes were directed, which in turned messed with his eyesight. They also started broadcasting his thoughts and past memories onto a screen in order to determine what his future would look like based on his “mind-patterns” during their abductions. The chapter closes out with Swerdlow revealing that the aliens started dumping him in Camp Hero at Montauk.Chapter 5 describes what he did there. It turns out he was dumped there since he was a prepubescent child, during which he was strapped to a table where he was “examined, mentally scanned for my brainwave signature or sexually abused in ways that stored my energetics and magnified them by computer. This went on until puberty.” Seeing as how he only tried to escape once and survived the testing, he was “promoted” by being placed in charge of the younger boys.“The preparation of the children included teaching them to implicitly obey orders, without any questions whatsoever. I taught them how to mentally focus on command so that their bodily energies could be removed by the psychic/mentalist to whom they were assigned. I instructed them on how to know what colors and symbols to mentally use to facilitate any given experiment. They were also taught how to relinquish their bodies and allow themselves to die without the innate defensive reaction of resistance inherent to all living beings.”This is horrifying. He also explains that there’s a difference between psychics and mentalists; the former can only read minds, but the latter can manipulate them. The kids were used to boost the energy of both types of people. The best subjects for this were in the three to twelve age range because their minds were “pure and uncontaminated”. However, their fear led to “scattered and disjointed energy outputs” that were useless to the scientists. And if that wasn’t bad enough, they were sexually abused by various project workers. You’d think the people running this place would prevent the pedos from having access to them because all of this drove many of the kids insane, and so they had to be “terminated”. So instead of giving the kids painless lethal injections, the scientists instead inexplicably shoved them into small chambers were they starved to death, and their bodies were dumped in the ocean. This just seems so unnecessarily evil and inefficient as hell. However, some of the staff would occasionally “adopt” a boy by reprogramming his memories and changing some of his physical features.Some of these boys were the children of politicians or military leaders who were abducted from their beds. They were treated differently from the other kids, and were always returned home, but not before getting implants placed in their eyes and programmed to fulfill unique tasks, which always included “tagging” other boys for use in the Project.The majority of the “expendable common boys” were taken from outside of New York, to alleviate suspicion over the disappearances. They came from all over the country.“Taken from families where they would not be missed as much as others, they were the children of prostitutes, drug addicts, and alcoholics, or they came from poor rural families with many children.”Holy shit, Monty Python was right too!Anyway, if for some strange reason the parents didn’t want to give their son up to bunch of sadistic aliens and Neo-Nazis, then Project people would arrange for an accident, ranging from cars driving into a river to house fires to full on natural disasters to fake the kid’s death. They also grabbed runaways off the street.In addition to the kids, they also grabbed a bunch of homeless people as well to travel through time and space. This tended to be a bit hit-and-miss as many of these people were lost in transit. So if someone did get through, they set up receivers to make transit easier by acquiring “vibrations”. These pathways were opened up by Duncan Cameron, and the Project people literally harnessed the kids’ imagination to boost his powers. When a boy “burned out” from being a living battery, they were exposed to a “fear program” that kicked their adrenaline into overdrive, which got a bit more energy out of them until they either died, went insane, or both. After that, their bodies were handed over to the greys, who proceeded to extract their organs and body fluids into large vats, in which they swam around in like the universe’s most fucked up pool to extract nutrients. Before humans just started handing over kids to them, Swerdlow claims that the aliens created vampires and chupacabras to extract nutrients for them. Occasionally reptilians would show up to watch the mind control experiments. Of course, Swerdlow feels completely awful over his role in all of this and is still plagued by guilt.Chapters 6-8 describe his travels around the Middle East. But first, he described how he hated with a passion, yet studied accounting because he was programmed to do so to help manage the Montauk boys. Also, he nearly died after being injected with sodium pentathol during a wisdom tooth removal. He believes this was because the anesthesia is used in truth serum as well.So he was “compelled” to take an overseas trip “sponsored by a Zionist organization that sought to bring volunteers to Israel and promote colonization of the arid land there.” Essentially, he was going to work on a communist farm called a “kibbutz”. On the way there, he stopped in Italy where the volcano at Pompeii unlocked some his memories of a past life, and a “French woman with Italian citizenship” randomly decided to try and convince him to become a medical doctor and marry her daughter, as one does. When he arrived in Tel Aviv, he was overcome with emotion, but found himself starting at departure board for Teheran, Iran for nearly an hour. He was then compelled to look at departure boards for Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, Nairobi, Kenya and Johannesburg, South Africa until his kind-of-an-asshole program companion got his attention. They waited with three women for a while until a guy came to pick them up. He drove them to Jerusalem where the women were dropped off at a youth hostel and Swerdlow and his companion were dumped at an old, empty British army barracks, where they told to sleep in a cell. When Swerdlow fell asleep, he woke up back at the airport, boarding a plane to Teheran. What follows is a series of flashes in which Swerdlow finds himself in a cave, more naked examinations, a “hyperspace subway system that circled the globe”, a shitty Nairobi bathroom, more examinations and a Sirian who told Swerdlow that he was an ambassador to the Israelis as their ally. Finally, he woke up back in Jerusalem.The next day, a van drove him and his companion to a poor kibbutz called Gvar Am in the Gaza Strip. The trip there was awful, because in Swerdlow’s own words; “Israelis do not drive their cars, they aim them.” He slept in a crappy house and worked in pear groves until the afternoon, “but not before some of the Scottish volunteers became exhausted and passed out from the heat.” He also made a friend with a British guy, whom he later found was an agent for both British and Soviet intelligence. How that’s supposed to work, I have no idea. Regardless, Swerdlow then decides to go meet some relatives in the town of Holon. His bus driver dropped him off, but he had no idea where his relatives actually live, so he wandered around until he literally stumbled into the house of the husband of his grandmother’s cousin.Chapter 8 describes how while wandering the Negev desert, Swerdlow was abducted by the Sirians. They told him that the Hebrews were created by them, and that they were currently trying to “purify” the modern Israelis by altering their mind-patterns. They examined him yet again and showed him his true identity. He was then taken to Mars, where he saw a large group of human men shackled together and digging with shovels. A Rigel alien explained to them that seeing as how they fulfilled their service on Earth and Mars, they would be examined for transportation to Rigel. If they failed the examination, they would be “eliminated.” This whole event was apparently orchestrated just for Swerdlow. He was then taken to the Sirians home world of Khoom, a frozen and snowy world devastated by an ancient war. Here, nine beings called “the Ohalu Council” inform him that he originally sent his soul-personality to Earth and that there were nine other people on Earth like him, each directed by a council member. They remind him of the upcoming war with the reptilian Draco and reveal that just like the CIA in Afghanistan, they also gave weapons to the Draco, who proceeded to use the weapons against them. Swerdlow also discovered that the Ark of the Covenant was actually a communication device between the Sirians and the Hebrews. The Sirians then dumped him back in the desert, three days after he left.“I believe that the Sirians are trying to undermine the plans of all factions involved on Earth; the New World Order, the Draco, the Greys, the Tall Blonds, etc. Their agenda is to bring all events to a climax, then usurp all power, possibly via the Israelis. This is only speculation on my part. Time will tell.”I’m sure it will. Chapter 9 discusses his return to the U.S. Here he reveals that as a young man one of the experiments he was a part of was “The Marriage Project”, which was designed to mate the Montauk boys with specific girls to produce specific children. So the twenty-two year old Swerdlow was matched with a fourteen year old Mia from Massachusetts who “was part of my own frequency”, because their soul-personalities were once one and split off long ago. They then proceeded to have sex while a literal crowd of people watched. Two years later, this happened;“One evening, when Mia was sixteen and I was twenty-four, we were brought together in a clinical environment under the watchful eyes of scientists. Here it was explained that our genetics were perfectly aligned with sequences that were reciprocal to one another. Mia had more Pleiadian genetics; mine were Sirian. This combination would produce a child of unusual abilities. Brought naked into a white room, we made love three times in succession. The entire episode was dreamlike and almost a blur. At the end, I knew inside of myself that Mia was pregnant.”This is so fucked up.So this produced a girl named Jaime, which Swerdlow was prevented from seeing in order to “avoid contamination of her mind-patterns”. She can see the future and “all possible alternate realities”, but at the time of the time of the writing, she was a teenager who didn’t know about her potential. Swerdlow is currently trying to guide her, while she understandably tries to avoid him.Chapter 10 describes how Swerdlow got a job as an internal auditor with a pharmaceutical company. Somewhat hilariously, he actually starts complaining that he has to get up for work in the morning during one of his abductions. During this, his captors tell him that his “marriage” with Mia was over, and that he should go out and live a “conventional life”. So he met with a secretary in the company named Michele, who he detested because she was “nasty and opinionated” with a short temper. However, they were both mind-controlled to marry each other after only a month. They also aborted a child they produced because Michele “did not want to look pregnant when she walked down the aisle.” Swerdlow is sad that he didn’t stop her, and gives the “truth” about abortion;“I now believe that abortion is wrong unless the mother’s life is in danger or the pregnancy is the result of rape. I also understand that the soul-personality does not enter into the body until the first breath, but it is that soul-personality, and no one else, that must decide whether or not to continue the life-stream. People who do not want children should take the proper precautions before the pregnancy, not destroy a possible life-stream after it is created. Although this may sound fundamentalist to some, it is what I know to be the proper way.”Ah, so it shouldn’t being the choice of the mother, the father or the government as to whether a fetus should be aborted, but the choice of the fetus itself, of course!This book.The two had more fights after this and wanted to call off the wedding, but Swerdlow received a telepathic message saying that the marriage would not be permanent, Swerdlow already agreed to it, and “This woman had agreed to be the vessel for the entry of my children into the physical plane.” I have no idea why Michele agreed to marry him, but they did marry and moved to Patchogue, Long Island.Chapter 11 talks about the strange events that occurred at their house. For whatever reason, they usually happened when Swerdlow’s in-laws were staying over. Their house was broken into, but only things that had little value were stolen, they were constantly hearing footsteps in their house, young children tried to break into the house (which he responded to by setting up a six-foot tall fence and alarm system), he saw shadowy figures in the house, the abductions continued and a wire was shoved into his penis, two disembodied robot heads had a conversation over his bed, you know, the usual. He also describes how during one of his abductions a human/grey hybrid young girl was shown to him, and he was told that she was his daughter. His house was also “attacked” several times by black military helicopters that didn’t really do much other than mess with the electronics and radios in the house. His wife was also having dreams of abductions as well, during which she was checked for pregnancy. Every time she had this dream, she became pregnant soon after.This brings us to Chapter 12, which is about Swerdlow’s children, all of whom were delivered via Caesarean-section. The first, Matthew was born in 1983 and was constantly crying, and his parents both had dreams of him being abducted. A couple of months after his birth, Swerdlow was informed during an abduction that his children were “not under my jurisdiction” because they were part of the experiments, and he would have to hand them over. Swerdlow actually grows some balls for once and tells them to fuck off. However, by the time Matthew was seven, he began talking about how a tall, red-eyed man dressed in black came into his room at night and telepathically said that he came from the underground, and that Matthew came from the underground as well, and that his parents were being monitored. Matthew described to his father about how there were cities underground and was able to describe a relay system. He was also abducted by grey aliens, who handed him a space bazooka and told him that he would use it in that upcoming intergalactic war, and that he would get dragged into the same genetic experiments as his dad. Swerdlow also reveals that Matthew was the only kid who inherited his psychic abilities. His second son, Jeremy is probably the most normal person in the entire family, the only strange thing that happened to him was that a grey alien would occasionally come into his room at night and take some of his toys.Next came Daniel. During the pregnancy, the doctor informed his parents that he may be born with Down’s Syndrome. After that, Swerdlow had an abduction during which this happened;“A female grey came into the room holding a small bundle. No one told me that she was female. I simply knew that ‘it’ was a she. As she approached, a male voice said that she wanted to show me something. Slowly unwrapping the top of the blanket, the female revealed an adorable blond-haired baby. The male voice said that it was mine, and asked if I wanted to hold it. Replying that I did, the female started to unwrap the whole baby, revealing an octopus-like torso with legs instead of a human body. Screaming and crying at the same time, I told them to take it away. The same voice said that it was going to an aquatic world and that I would never see it again. Waking up in my bed, I prayed with all my might that Danny would be a normal child. I cannot describe my relief when the doctor called with the positive test results.”So Swerdlow essentially disowned one of his children just because it looked like a complete abomination against God. What a dick.“When Danny started to talk, he told me about a man with a clown face who came into his room at night to take him flying. He said that when the man put a magic wand in the middle of his forehead, they immediately were in a place that had balloon lights of different colors.”So underground inhabitants, aliens, clowns with magical powers, balloons…..…Are the Swerdlow kids getting stalked by Pennywise?)Anyway, the clown took Daniel to see his “baby sister”, who ended up scratching his face with claws. Also, the kid can talk to angels. Not aliens masquerading as angels, but real, honest-to-God angels who tell him the future. This is just casually tossed in on the last paragraph as an afterthought with no elaboration.Chapters 13-14 are about Swerdlow’s CIA application, which was already covered in Montauk Revisited, so I’ll just breeze through it. He simply answered a “Help Wanted” ad in the newspaper, was told that he would be valuable due to his knowledge of ten languages, was asked a barrage of questions during the events described in Montauk Revisited and was declined by the CIA because he was a security risk.Continued in Part 2 via /r/StrangerThings

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imbearlyawake · 7 years

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The Anomaly

Explaining The Anomaly- April 2013

So there I was, sitting there, alone, in the dormitory lounge at three in the morning with the rain slapping against the dark windows. Rather than making a trip to the local drugstore for candy and energy drinks for the next day, I got online to sign up onto a dating website.

Naturally, I started with E-Harmony, then Match.com, but each well known site either cost a ridiculous subscription fee, or I was “rejected” and barred from the site. Most likely for all the right reasons, as I was barely 18 years old and seeking out romance with the wrong motivation. I went ahead and started looking at the lesser funded sites that most would definitely steer clear from. I signed up and I chatted away with many strangers, “winked” at those I found attractive, and clicked through many pictures. Really this site was based on sexual appeal more than anything else, but at the time I was looking for love.

I found a charming guy on this site, Chris. He loves to travel, cook, go on hikes, is of an athletic build, and loves dogs. So far, so good. I sent him a message:

“I would love to travel the world. Let's get to know each other and maybe we can be travel buddies :)”

Chris and I hit it off well, and for the first time in a few years, I had butterflies. I thought at the time that he was the one, that this was my miraculous love story, that it was love at first “site”. I barely knew him. Through texts with him and getting to know him, he was so charming to me, my crush on him only grew. I learned that he was working at the Long John Silver's in the Phoenix area, so I planned to surprise him by stopping in on my way from home back to my room on campus.

On the drive down, I got so terribly nervous. My parents didn't know that I met him online, I said that I met him through friends at school. I was about 10 miles out from the exit to the Long John Silver's when I had a panic attack. I was driving and suddenly I had tunnel vision getting worse, I was hyperventilating, I was so nervous to meet him, I don't know why. Maybe it was the idea that he was the one for me that set me off. I pulled off the road, got a drink from a convenience store and brought my nerves back down to earth. I then drove the rest of the way to park at the Long John Silver's/ I had to wait a while before he started his shift, but when I finally did meet him, my very first impression was that he was much, much less attractive than I imagined him to be, but I chose to look past his appearances.

I planned out our first date entirely by myself. A hike to the top of 'A' Mountain with my best friend and her boyfriend. For that date, I had to drive out thirty minutes to pick him up because he had no car or money. I did so and learned that he was drunk at the beginning of our date. He explained afterward that he was just so nervous that he just wanted to take the edge off. Only half way through the hike, and my best friend told me that she had a bad feeling about Chris, but that she was also very tired and had to go home early. Since that first date with Chris, we never went out on a real date again.

After what now seems like a complete disaster of a date, I was charmed by him and I continued to see Chris. After school and work I would drive out the distance to his apartment and I stayed the night, I practically lived there.

His apartment was pitiful. It crawled with ants in the bathroom, the carpet was stained with cigarette ashes and spit spots. His only furniture included a very lumpy couch that had to be covered by a blanket and a blow up mattress that was perforated to hell. He had a television, a Wii game system, and a strobe light all in a corner on the floor as his entertainment system. He had no cable, he only rented movies from Red-box’s over and over again. His favorite was Pulp Fiction.

After I would arrive at his apartment, usually in the evening, one of two things would happen: he would either be passed out on the couch and I would have to wait for over an hour for him to wake up to let me in, or he would let me in immediately and interrogate me as to why it took me 45 minutes to get to his house instead of my usual 30. I hated both outcomes, I hated the interrogation the most.

“Where the hell have you been? Did you have to stop by Tyrone's to give him his first?” he asked.

“I don't know any Tyrone. Where is this all coming from?”

“Oh don't pretend like you don't know, Tyrone is your big, black cock that you love to fuck around with before coming here to play me! How many other guys are there that you want to fuck behind my back? Why don't you just stay there with them? You never really loved me anyways.”

I never gave him any reason to believe that I had or would cheat on him. I did tell him I loved him, even though I knew deep down it wasn't real love, it was more like a childlike love. Every day that I said it, the more I believed it, the more I grew dependent on Chris to distract me from my every day worries such as my dropping grades.

At the beginning, Chris would only drink a 40oz of Mickey's, never got him drunk, so I never thought twice about it. I'm more of the hard liquor kind of gal, so I asked him to get Vodka so that I could make up some Bloody Mary's. He drank the rest of the fifth of vodka after the first two bloody marys were made and passed out on the couch for two hours, only to wake up to find me alone and bored. He then started to buy harder liquors everyday after work and drink entire fifths of vodka and whiskey by the hour. All of his worst traits were intensified by the end of each night.

He explained to me before that he was suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, but I never really believed that, just an excuse that he's using to cover his depression and anxiety, maybe some other disorder.

He was jealous, extremely jealous, of men that don't exist except in his imagination. I never gave him a reason to be jealous. He also felt condescended by me because I was attending a university, whereas he is a high school dropout living on minimum wage with no driver's license. He blamed me for his being upset all the time. He threatened to leave me time and time again.

Keep in mind, I got into this relationship by the fear of being alone, he held that over me like the strings of a puppet. He hated my morals and values which contradicted his. For instance he had three tattoos. Two of brass knuckles on each of his shoulders, and one of the Insane Clown Posse Hatchet man. I didn't believe in the idea of tattoos, really they turned me off because I'd rather see untouched skin and believe that I was the first to admire it. He hated that I was Christian and he thought that I judged him more harshly than he deserved, though I never passed judgment on him, only support and encouragement.

He hated my family because he knew that my parents would never approve of him, to him that was the final straw. He was willing to fight my dad simply because he didn't feel like he should be judged by someone he's never met.

We argued every night, though it was really him yelling at me and me trying to apologize and explain my situation more clearly to calm him down. Instead, he was like a lawyer with his words and he knew how to twist them to make me into the one at fault. He would yell at me, threaten to leave me alone, tell me how ungrateful, useless, unworthy, slutty and overall undeserving of life I was. He would have me crying on the bathroom floor.

I couldn't breathe or stand or fight him off and away when he broke me down. He kept battering me with his words, making me feel guilty for upsetting him, until he passed out from intoxication. I would be so greatly distressed that I found myself clinging to his cigarette-stained toilet vomiting from the stress and anxiety alone, and when I had nothing left to give, my stomach was still churning and heaving painfully in my gut.

I could never sleep after something like that, especially when all that I wanted to do was have him forgive me again and love me as his princess again. I was truly believed that his love was the only love I would ever need. I would lie on the floor next to the couch where he lied on and I waited for him to wake up. When he did, he found me covered in tears and my face swollen from crying and wanted to know what he did to me because he “didn't remember anything” from just hours before. But he was so sweet after, he would hug me so tightly and hold me together again after tearing me apart. I was his princess again.

This repeated every night, just like this. He would drink till he was drunk, verbally abuse me until I was crying and begging him to stop talking to me and to forgive me for everything that was wrong in his life, then he would pass out and wake up to apologize and piece me together again.

Over and over again, and I still made the drive to see him. I loaned him cash when he was strapped, even though I knew he was only going to buy more alcohol and cigarettes with it. I drove him to work, I had sex with him. He took my virginity and he found ways to use that against me.

“You might as well go ahead and fuck every guy you know, shouldn't be too hard now that you're no longer saving yourself for anyone.”

That stung.

Soon the school year ended and I was to move back in with my parents a few hours away from Chris. Chris told me to move in with him, and to hell with what others think. If I didn't move in with him, then I clearly didn't love him enough to stand up to my parents. So I tried.

“I'm moving in with Chris,” I told my Dad.

“The hell you are, if you do that, your mother and I are not supporting you at all. No cell phone, no college support, no car, nothing from us.”

I was devastated, I loved my parents, but I didn't want to disappoint anyone. So I called Chris and begged him to reconsider. After seeing the stress it caused me, he called it off. That night was my last night to spend with Chris, it was also the most brutal night.

He pulled a knife on me, though he played it off like it was a joke. After he was fully saturated with his drink of choice, he went through the motions again of blaming me for his problems and why he was depressed. He expressed his disappointment with me and wanted me gone because I was worthless to him. He yelled for me to leave his apartment for good, I even took his apartment key off of my key ring to return to him because I was sure he was serious, but he only used that action as leverage.

“Why would you even think I was serious? Are you really so stupid to not know that was a test to see if you could so easily leave me? What college would even want you, stupid girl?

“You were ready to leave me! You took my key off of your key ring and returned it! You were going to leave, that just proves you never loved me!”

He yelled more at me and I crawled to the bathroom, like I've done so many times before. I closed the door and leaned against it with what little strength I had left in me. I locked it behind me so that he couldn't just push me out of the way, but he broke through the frame and picked me up off of his floor to drag me to his front door to kick me out, claiming that he had called the cops to have me removed. But I insisted on staying, told him I would never leave him by choice. I sat there crying on the floor where he dropped me and he watched, waiting, for an hour as I sobbed, waiting for the cops to arrive.

Finally he had enough of my crying, and with a hidden satisfied smile on his face, he knelt in front of me and started to pick up the tiny, tiny pieces of me again.

“I'm so sorry, my princess, I'll never do that again to you. I can't help myself, my PTSD turns me into a monster that I just can't control. I don't deserve you, please stop crying, I don't want you to leave. Don't worry, the cops aren't really coming. I would never want you to leave.”

How I got out of this cycle of emotional torture was only thanks to my parents. I did move back in with them after the school year, and they demanded that I ended all contact with Chris. Either it was over between Chris and I, or it was over between my family and I.

I hate ultimatums. I will walk out on those who set the line in front of me.

My parents raised me to walk from “this or that”. I hated that they had drawn the line in the sand- it felt so incredibly betraying to me.

But I thought of my siblings, Dylan, Charlotte, and Taylor.

Who would I be to walk out on them? Who would I be to become the “older sister that we don’t talk to anymore”. No siblings, no cousins, no grandparents or aunts and uncles. My family is my community, my identity.

The thought of leaving my family behind terrified me, only because I know the pain it would cause. That thought was the reason behind my decision to leave Chris.

The last time I ever saw him was when I went down to pick up my things. He called me that night, as we were still at the rocky end of our relationship. I broke up with him over the phone and that started his drunken abuse. I was so incredibly upset with him after his last barrage of curse words and hate over the phone that I made up my mind.

“Dad, I know it’s late, but I need to do this. Can you drive me to Phoenix to get my things?”

On the way, as I was sobbing quietly in my dad’s truck, he pulled into a gas station and brought back to me tissues and Reese’s cups. Not a word was spoken, but I felt his love and pain because his daughter was heartbroken.

After an hour long drive in the middle of the night, I walked up the stairs to his door alone and I walked in.

His entire apartment smelled like blood. I could see that he punched the walls and the doors over and over again until his bleeding knuckles touched everything, putting his blood everywhere. I gathered my things, trying my damnedest to not acknowledge his presence or his scathing words. My dad waited outside the apartment as I insisted that I went alone to get my things.

I was out within moments and left his key on the counter, even though Chris begged and begged for me to stay with him.

I was out. I was done.

#abusive relationship #emotional abuse #domestic abuse #trauma

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