#from keying cars and running away to sacrificing everything for a perfect future

[gratuiciel]

the revelation kinda felt weird because kisaki never admitted his feelings himself, he was forced to admit them bc takemichi started getting prophetic visions of his biggest L (proposing to hina out of the blue and she just replies "sorry" lmao oof) and then questioned him about future hina's murder. which makes me think that maybe final timeline takemichi's "do you love hina?" might be his way to have them face their feelings on equal footing since after that takemichi just says "i love her too" and they both smile (which is definitely more wholesome and less likely to result in kisaki being on the defensive lmao)

feel like wakui didn't explore the comedic potential of time traveller takemichi and regular takemichi getting caught up in each other's problems enough tbh. probably would've messed with the story's serious moments but this is why mangas have bonus pages at the end (still sad that there aren't any in the main series (although wakui posted a lot of sketches on twt while the series was ongoing apparently))

time traveller takemichi: (leaves)

regular takemichi, waking up in jail: wait what

time traveller takemichi: that's payback for almost cheating on hina with emma

regular takemichi: that wasn't even meeeee (echoing from a distance)

i totally agree about kisaki losing it each time after he loses hina and takemichi, and yeah he definitely lost by being miserable throughout his life and creating a more miserable world (i also love pain)

i forgot about izana! oh man he must've been something in the og timeline, too. does that mean that the black dragons are the biggest gang of tokyo in this timeline? kinda cool to think about

Tormented by the thoughts of Kisaki's possible upbringing. Like you can't tell me a kid who dedicated his entire life to a girl who was kind to him for five seconds was not somewhat neglected. Bullying at school? Absent parents? Like they weren't even at the same school, they went to the same cram school!

From his bedroom, you can tell his family is pretty rich (tons of books and like three pc monitors at thirteen plus gaming console and a TV? Okay dude) so the parents spending all of their time at work is plausible.

Also him at like 11 being all superior thinking he's the smartest guy around= putting all of his value in his intellect -> parents that probably ask for the best results and nothing else?

And the fact that he's so alienated from the other kids even at cram school. There's gotta be some flavour of bullying in there, especially with how common it is in Japan plus with the timeline (the 80s and 90s being the worst in terms of bullying -I have a source for that lmaooo this my researcher bias).

Because I wonder what turned tiny shy Kisaki into a criminal in *checks notes* two years.

[im-pretending-imthere-already]

by the warm current

As kids, my sister and I spent our summers near the river, often falling on our long garments. Our knees scraped and bruised by the sharp rocks that lay beside the strong, warm stream. The hot days rushed by as we spent our hours playing under the hot, blinding sun. If my sister adored anything, it was birds. Often we spent our days searching for them in the scorching heat of the summer, looking for all the wings that have been neatly crafted, threaded into shape. Our collection of feathers of all colours were kept safe, hidden to preserve their infinite beauty, kept in a wooden rustic box under our bed. The box neatly tucked away between the sheets that were perfectly stored by mother. One grim evening, one of my older siblings had found our box hidden between the worn out blankets, that night we were forced into womanhood, our childhood was stripped away from us. Our summers were no longer warm, our knees left with scars.

What is it to truly be a woman? A question I still struggle with. Reverend Michael often referred to womanhood as preparing to serve God by serving your husband, which we spent the following years doing, leaving our ambitions and dreams of independence behind. Our personalities were to be crushed under the high expectations of becoming nothing other than slaves which men used. Our days were spent caring for our younger siblings who occupied our time dirtying the floors we just scrubbed. Our womanhood, reduced to becoming mothers and leaving our aspirations for our sons. Too tall, too confident, too short, too skinny, too immodest, too fat, too lanky, too talkative, too hairy, too loud, too aggressive, our existence is nothing more than a checklist for men to choose from. Growing up, I admired adulthood. I admired the idea of growing up to serve my husband, the idea of dressing modestly and spending my time cleaning, to become a woman. But as I grew into that woman, I began despising it.

My teenage years were regulated by the women of the church who made it their mission to crush my dreams, my life was to be sacrificed for god. Waking up to the screaming children of the church who demanded breakfast, my days were the same every single day. After the tedious mornings of cooking, cleaning and caring tirelessly, we met the citrus trees sprinkled with the soft dew on their delicate leaves in the community garden as we planned to prepare our annual lemon pie. Every year we were to prepare a feast full of food, including our lemon pie as the dessert for the mating party. This glamorous party was only a facade, a sweet glaze over a dark oppressive, controlled, and abusive future. This year was different, however, as I was becoming a woman of age, all day I had been thinking about what was to come, the life I was forced to have, pushed into a designated role my whole life. This is it, this is the dream of the church, this is what my life was to be, what my family had planned, what the reverend had envisioned.

That day I realised I couldn't do this, after seeing all the women blatantly eyed by the men of the church, scanned from bottom to up, graded as if they were a gift to be expected, a helpless little kitten to be chosen from a shelter or rescued from a basket left on the road. My older sister stood beside me, we glared at each other exchanging the same thoughts. Our life was more than this, our dreams were not to be forgotten, hidden in the blankets of our mind. I had heard about a couple of people who had escaped before, I didn't know how to but we had to get out. That night I decided to do the unthinkable, I had to make a plan, I had to take action, I had to escape this cage and fly away.

Reverend Michael was my father however he was never a typical father, more like a shepherd grazing his sheep, controlling us to become nothing more than slaves for his sick fantasies. He slept in the cabin house beside ours, but I knew he was going to arrive late today due to the ceremony, like every year before. It was the perfect time as if the universe aligned for our freedom. In my nightgown, I slid out as my sister was fast asleep. The night was dark, the air thick and foggy, the moon barely lit watching over me as I ran barefoot, in my white gown to the reverend's cabin. I knew where to look, under the vase he kept his spare key, which I used to unlock his door. I walk in knowing exactly where to find what I'm looking for, his diary, kept in the last drawer of his desk conveniently hidden in between his bibles. I flick through the delicate pages looking for something useful when I stumble across the gold mine. It wrote the name of a woman named "Angela Zachery" and her cabin number''14", suspected of breaking out "Mary Williams". I quickly close the book, return his diary precisely into its spot and leave the same way I entered, leaving no trace behind me.

The coming night my mind was occupied with one thought, cabin 14. I couldn't just leave, I had to make sure it was clear. It took a couple of nights which felt like forever but eventually, I got there. I remember it like it was yesterday. It was a Friday night, everyone had got to their cabins early after a hard day of work and the daily evening lecture was longer than usual. The pathways were empty, the road clear. I made my way, a little more professional than the night of the ceremony, in my brown dress and handwoven cardigan that wrapped its threads around my shoulders supporting me through my journey. If I was found by any person or even if "Angela" was a scam I would end up 6 feet deep into the ground before sunrise. I took the chance walking across the church to his cabin, no one was around, no one to be seen spying. I knocked on the door anticipating the worst, painting the images of my death. My life dissolving into nothing more than a forgotten story in the depths of my memories, an old story tale kept at the back of a dusty bookshelf. The door opened ever so slightly as I felt the fear shake through my body. She grabbed me inside so hard I stumbled inside falling to my knees in front of her as he shut the door aggressively. I introduced myself and explained my story and she sat there listening. Her eyes stared at me aggressively yet with a shadow of love. Her agreement brought me feelings, flushing my skin, red. Independence, freedom, individuality, expression, life. All books that she dusted alive within an instant. My dreams of independence and freedom rushed back through my bones to the crevices of my every thought. It was scheduled for Thursday night.

The night before the escape was probably one of the hardest and most important nights of my life, I was breaking the cage and finally getting the opportunity to fly, but the thought of leaving everything and everyone I knew terrified me. I wasn't to ever clean after my siblings, but I wasn't ever going to see them again. I wasn't going to have to make lemon pie for the church, but I wasn't going to celebrate with all my family ever again. Laying in my bed I couldn't get my eyes to shut as I laid there staring at the ceiling. The only support holding me together was the sheets I laid in and the light breathing of my sister beside me.

My bags packed, my thoughts collected, my breathing stable. This was it, this was my freedom. I get to leave and not look back. It was starting to get dark, the last evening to spend in this hell of a place. The trees rustling in the wind and air smelling of wood fire. I had kissed each of my younger siblings goodbye, hoping I would remain alive in their memories. My sister spent that evening reading, which we did often. An outlet we used to let our imagination roam free to live the lives we wish we had. As we put our coats on we stared at each other with fear, the sun had set and the sky was so empty reflecting the withdrawal we were to be hit with. We looked at each other and left, never to set foot in the cabin ever again.

Angela has sent some, waiting for us. He had a car organized outside the fence, we just had to make it outside. In the dark night, we threw our long dress off and climbed the fence gripping the holes with all our strength, looking back I could see Angela in the distance leaving. Climbing faster and faster, our bodies shaking with fear, our hearts anticipating our freedom. Hand over hand, foot over foot, we rose higher and higher. It felt like forever until we reached the top, then at the tip I stared into my sister's eyes when I heard a bang! My soul left my body for a moment from the fear as I saw my sister's body growing limp, her back falling into the fence becoming one with it. I stared into the sky for a moment, knowing I was targeted, I had no time. I had to leave my sister behind, running my way down the fence. I felt the wind brushing my cheeks, the heat irritating my skin. As I reached the last few steps I fell onto the floor, my vision blurring into two. There was no option but to get up, leaving my sister hanging on the fence and running into the truck.

As fast as my life gained sweetness it got bitter again. I stayed in a home with many people, I had food and clothing. But life without my sister was hard, the image of her murder remaining drilled into my head. I saw the soul leave her body, I saw her life end. I often wonder how different things would have turned out if I never left, if I was caught, if we moved a metre to the right if we left on Friday?

My favourite place grew to become the beach, reminding me of the warm river my sister and I loved ever so dearly, connecting our dreams to every nook of the world. As I sit here today, on the warm sand, I often find myself looking beside me to find my sister's spirit constantly gifting me with feathers. Today I have the privilege of sitting on this beach, feeling the wind through my hair, the cool breeze on my shoulders and my sister's feathers can be forever stored, kept safe and loved, not to be a secret but to be a memory of resilience.

-F.A

[idolizerp]

[ LOADING INFORMATION ON HONEY’S MAIN VOCAL GYURI…. ]

DETAILS

CURRENT AGE: 23 DEBUT AGE: 19 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 13 SKILL POINTS: 11 PERFORMANCE | 17 VOCAL | 08 DANCE | 00 RAP SECONDARY SKILLS: Imitations

INTERVIEW

msg think they’ve struck gold when they see her. it certainly helps that she provides an almost perfect base to work with: an impressive voice, decent visuals, decent everything else (”don’t worry,” they tell her, ���we can fix that.”). if anything, she’s the ideal candidate to conform to the standards they plan to thrust upon her. especially when she’s just so willing to comply. kang gyuri is presented as bright smiles, shy laughter, and clever quips; embodying msg’s demands to a t, and in turn, living up to honey’s saccharine sweet name. which prompts management to kick it up a notch and add the ‘protective unnie’ to the mix: the mother-like figure who’s constantly watching over the other members and tending to their needs. 

ever kind, ever caring. ever fake.

still, popularity doesn’t immediately come for her. she wonders whether it’s to do with the fact her visuals aren’t extraordinary. maybe her aegyo doesn’t come across as naturally as the others do, and with the fascination for high pitched squeals and pouts, she’s at a loss. but it’s her voice, that voice, which elevates her into the spotlight, ensures she isn’t bombarded with the same harsh words directed to others. some of the time, at least.

although there are certain things she can’t escape. such as the criticism over her unstable vocals (see: their debut stage), the comments suggesting that her glare was directed at a fellow member (see: the trending forum post in may). netizens deem her personality to be rather sly, completely going against what the group is meant to represent. nothing sweet about a girl with rumoured hidden intentions. talented? yes. pretty? sure. genuine? well—

shame, then, that she isn’t eager to go anywhere. the hatred and rumours aren’t enough to usher her towards the exit and on the next flight to seogwipo. in fact, she vows to stick around, firmly fixed on attaining her dream to become a multi talented soloist. 

take it or leave it, she couldn’t care less.

BIOGRAPHY

the most common assumption shared by friends is surely, it must get lonely when her family consists of merely two members: dad and her. no other siblings to help out on the tangerine farm in seogwipo. no motherly figure to dote on him and her when days get tough. as if an additional member is somehow a necessity, to complete their happy little family portrait. to make everything better than it supposedly is.

fun fact: it’s fine the way it is now.

“don’t you think you need something else?” “what’s that?” “a thing, a pers—“ “can you get to the point?” “a mom.” “no.”

she isn’t afraid of calling out anyone attempting to question the notably absent motherly role. an arched brow and scoff greets strangers daring to inquire on the identity of this mystery woman. as far as she’s concerned, it shouldn’t matter who she may be when her dad’s managed to fulfil the role just fine. going above and beyond to ensure she’s happy, healthy.

he’s enough.  her dad’s enough. 

/

“don’t you know who this is?”

by this, she means the likes of uhm junghwa and Fin.K.L. 
by this, she means the various trot cds scattered on her bedroom floor. by this, she means the songs that virtually everybody should know

her dad encourages her love for music by contributing to her extensive collection. no matter the artist, the year, the genre; each cd and tape is happily accepted and carefully tucked away into a tattered cardboard box for future listening. silence is frowned upon when there’s more than enough at her fingertips to drown it out, once and for all.

it begins first with trot, followed by ballads before quickly moving to pop, eventually becoming a mix between the three. songs are created by combining small aspects of each, taking the parts she likes and discarding the rest. it helps with the boredom. when she’s confined to a classroom with nothing to do, stuck in the car on a long drive with nothing to listen to. when her procrastination is at a sky high.

such creations are typically kept under wraps. namely since friends struggle to identify the inspirations behind each tune and she figures it’s better to keep them away. to save her the disappointment, them the confusion. that is, before a classmate requests a song out of plain curiosity and she goes along, not thinking much of it.

funny, really, how a man with a glossy business card believes otherwise.

/

thirteen and scouted, thirteen and determined. thirteen and ready to go.

there’s absolutely no problem in pursuing a dream, her dad explains. but it becomes one when it involves having to relocate to seoul. not to mention entering an industry with such an infamous reputation. one known to take advantage of girls as young, pretty, talented as her. because regardless of how tough she thinks herself to be, there’ll always be someone smarter, tougher than she is. which explains why the final decision doesn’t come about immediately. he requests time to run through the various options. backup plans, educational plans. anything to reassure him (and her) that this venture will result in something. anything to make up for deviating from the plans that was initially put in place for her: study, postgraduate study, work. not: study, train, possible star.

“you can always come back. you know that, right?” “of course.”

extra money is tucked away at the bottom of her suitcase if the situation in seoul proves difficult. for the purchase of a ticket back home once she’s had enough and wants to return home to familiarity. safety. part of her thinks she might eventually do just that, while another part of her vows to stick it through, no matter what.

the latter, she learns, wins out.

/ her dance moves are awkward. her accent is horrendous. 

but thank god she can sing. six years of training pushes her to the brink, tests her patience, and almost breaks her. key word to note, almost. trainers are deemed sadists for their knack for picking apart her self esteem before she even has time to piece herself together again. they demand perfection, she tries her damn best to give it to them at the cost of her own sanity, health. happiness.

she gives and gives and gives. they take and take and take.

it’s not enough. but she hangs on anyway, grits her teeth and continues to push, striving towards a goal dangled cruelly out of reach. she watches trainees like her disappear. girls who share the same dream deciding to opt out from how difficult it is, this path to stardom. unable to cope with the ongoing pressure to conform to ridiculously high standards, like how she’s feeling.

except she takes it all as motivation to keep going, sinking her teeth to what she believes is rightfully hers, the chance to prove her worth. refusing to leave until they drag it away from her, by force.

and she’ll get her chance—upon debut.

/

“you’re debuting? really?” “yep, really. i’m actually gonna be television soon.” “that’s my girl.”

of course, she doesn’t tell her dad what she’s sacrificed to get this far. prefers to brush over the “minor” details than mention them, saving him the trouble of fussing over her. even if he has more than enough reason to.  like how she hasn’t eaten a proper meal in days, apart from the fifth ice cube meant to pass as a snack—or lunch. could be both, she isn’t sure at this point. the entire thing screams dangerous and unhealthy, except staff demand she look nothing less than amazing for debut. if that means forcing her body to cooperate, despite the warning signs begging her to stop, then so be it.

suffering, she learns, is the norm here. suffering, she’s told, is needed here. 

so that’s exactly what she does.

/ the taste of fame is just as she imagined: addictive, albeit with a slightly bitter aftertaste.  previous hardships are forgotten once honey gains traction and she’s immediately swept up in all it brings. performances, cfs, variety show appearances, being on the road to becoming a somebody than a nobody. consecutive early morning starts can be forgiven once she’s able to grace the stage, lapping up the attention from strangers who adore her. people who’ve fallen for the image msg has crafted for her.

( because isn’t this what she’s trained for? isn’t this what she’s always wanted? )

and maybe it’s just that, the satisfaction with the idol life that allows her to overlook the issues bubbling beneath the surface, threatening to ruin everything she’s worked so damn hard for. she’s done too much, come too far to turn her back on years of dedication, on a dream that’s been in motion for as long as she can remember. so she chooses to ignore, pretends none of it exists. it’s better that way.

praise makes up for the lack of sleep and back to back schedules.   fanchants distract her from thinking back to her last healthy, fulfilling meal. colourful stages overshadow her desire to return home and escape the attention.

this is what she’s always wanted: adoration.

[healthnotion]

6 Ways to Streamline Your Mornings

In an ideal world, all of our mornings would be relaxed, unhurried times to eat a nice homemade breakfast, enjoy a quality cup of coffee, and just lounge around or read a favorite book.

The reality for many of us, though, is that mornings are about cold, ruthless efficiency: getting up, getting ready, and getting out the door for school or work. And if you have kids, they add a whole ‘nother chaotic dimension to this process.

And so, our mornings inevitably feel rushed and stressed, and we therefore start the day on precisely the wrong foot. Our brain takes that bad start, filters the rest of our experiences through it, and tinges the entire day with a poor hue.

Is there a way to ensure your mornings get off on the right foot, though, and set your whole day up for success?

Of course there is! One of the keys is streamlining — putting systems in place to ensure your morning is as efficient as possible, while also providing some ritual and joy as well.

Much of this requires prep the night before, but I’ve found it can actually be sort of soothing to prep for the next morning knowing that you’re taking a load off your future self.

1. Establish a Routine in the First Place

If your mornings feel rushed, it’s quite possible that it’s because you lack a routine at all. When it comes to streamlining, the first step is to ensure that you have a rock-solid morning routine that gets you and your household out the door with the least amount of fuss.

Without a routine, every phase of your morning is interrupted by the need to make decisions. What to make for breakfast. What to wear to work. What to pack for the kids’ lunches. What to do with the 10 extra minutes you always have after the kids leave for school and before you have to get to work. Each choice eats up time, fragments your flow, and creates decision fatigue before you’ve even left the house!

With a routine in place, your decision-making is taken care of, and your morning can largely run on autopilot.

Have a set wake-up time that isn’t deviated from; know the exact first three things you’ll do upon waking (shower, coffee, breakfast); know how you’ll spend that modicum of free time (reading a book, journaling, etc.).

Get a routine in place (remaining open to modifying it as things change), and 75% of streamlining your morning is already done. Now let’s get into some specifics.

2. Automate Your Coffee/Tea

While I tend to advocate for making time to turn your morning coffee into a ritual, I get that for some folks it’s just not that important. It’s more fuel and energy than languid pleasure. If you’re in that camp, there are a couple things you can do to automate, or at least speed up your morning beverage.

First, you can get yourself a coffee maker that has a timer built in to brew your coffee at a set time each morning, so that it will be hot and ready as soon as you hit the kitchen. If you want to maintain quality, get one with a grinder built-in; freshly ground beans will always beat pre-ground coffee thrown into a filter the night before. If you’re a tea person, you can get electric kettles with timers built in (though you do still have to add/steep the tea yourself).

In the summer months, you can also switch to cold brew if that’s your thing, which just requires the coffee being pulled out of the fridge and poured into a glass. No muss, no fuss.

If coffee is an important ritual for you, but it makes your morning a bit more harried, commit to waking up 10 minutes earlier. Just 10 minutes is all it takes, and you’ll find that it’s worth it if that practice helps set your mind right for the day. This of course goes for any other ritual you’d like to incorporate into your morning routine, and want to take at a non-frantic pace: prayer, meditation, journaling, reading, etc.

3. Pick Out Your Clothes the Night Before

While some titans of industry can get away with wearing the exact same thing every day, that’s not realistic for most people. It’s also just not very fun; your personal style should be something you enjoy crafting anew each day. What you can do is pick out your outfit the night before. If you’re bold, you can even plan out your entire week’s outfits on Sunday evening, not necessarily getting them out, but ordering them in your closet so you can just go to whichever set of clothes is next up.

This is all much easier when your clothes are actually organized rather that strewn about in a chaotic jumble.

If you have small kids, who don’t have strong opinions and won’t want to choose what they’re wearing based on their fluctuating feelings, do the same for their outfits. (Theirs are a lot easier to pick out for a whole week ahead of time, if for nothing else than their clothing is just smaller.) Note: This is especially helpful for dads who are dressing little girls. I can’t thank my wife enough for picking out our daughter’s week of outfits on Sunday.

Even if your kids are older and don’t want to decide what they’ll be wearing a week ahead of time, you can still have them pick out what they want to wear the next day before they go to bed.

4. Make Your Breakfast a Speedy, Routined Affair

There are a million ways to make your breakfast prep quicker in the morning. Most people resort to small, portable non-meals (granola bar, piece of fruit, etc.) or something incredibly unhealthy (McDonald’s). Ideally, you want to strike a balance between nutritious (at least somewhat!), real (rather than processed), and filling. But it’s difficult to get all 3 without sacrificing a good chunk of time in the morning to prep.

That’s where the make-ahead breakfast comes in handy. While there are numerous options out there on the internet (overnight oatmeal is a particularly good pick), we have two supremely delicious, real, better-for-you-than-processed options here on the Art of Manliness: make-ahead breakfast sammies and make-ahead breakfast burritos.

Both require prep, of course, but then they just go in the freezer and can be pulled out and made in a couple minutes in the morning. Make up to a few weeks ahead at a time. Not only will your mornings be streamlined, but you’ll have a delicious and filling breakfast too. Win-win.

Kids can of course eat these as well, though there are other kid-friendly streamlining options here too. Whip up a batch of protein-packed pancakes at the start of the week, perfect your microwaved egg-in-a-mug, etc.

5. Pack Your Lunch the Night Before

Not only does packing a lunch versus eating out save boatloads of money, it’s also guaranteed to be the healthier, more nutritious course. But then morning comes, and you’re rushing around, and you don’t even think about lunch before you’re already in the car. Eating out again!

Instead, make a point to pack your lunch the night before (I always thought this steamer bag idea from Primer seemed like an awesome way to easily create nutritious and delicious grab-n-go lunches). Pre-planning allows you to make healthy choices before you need to actually make those choices. And if not actually packaging your lunch for the next day, at least think about what you’re going to bring so that the mental prep, sometimes the hardest part, is done ahead of time. Often, you simply stall because you can’t figure out what to bring, and then . . . eating out again!

If you have kids who a) bring their own lunch to school, and b) aren’t old enough to prep/pack it on their own, this is a game changer. Sure, it takes work to pack things the night before, but it makes mornings so much smoother. I’ve found it’s actually easiest to do right after dinner and before you’ve even cleaned anything up. While everything is still out, pack up some leftovers, cut up some fruit/veggies, throw it in the fridge, and you’re good to go.

6. Get Up Just a Bit Earlier

While many articles about making your mornings better say to get up way earlier, I’m advocating for rolling your alarm back just 10 or 15 minutes. If you already feel frazzled by the time you leave the house, those 10 minutes will make a bigger difference than you think. Use them for those aforementioned mind-centering rituals, or even just as some extra wiggle room for troubleshooting whatever might come up.

I know it’s hard to get up earlier than you really need to, but when it’s just 10 minutes (start with 5 if you need!) it’s a lot easier to swallow. I can pretty much guarantee that if your mornings are consistently stressing you out, the 9am version of yourself will thank the version who got up at 6:15am instead of 6:30am.

There’s plenty more you can do to streamline your mornings, many of which will be applicable to your specific situation. But these things listed above are pretty much universal and can be applied to most households. Use them to get started, and then think about other things you can implement to streamline even more.

A good morning makes not only your morning better, but kicks off a compounding effect that will improve your whole day.  

The post 6 Ways to Streamline Your Mornings appeared first on The Art of Manliness.

6 Ways to Streamline Your Mornings published first on https://mensproblem.tumblr.com

[northofsomewhererp]

Your Name, Age (17+), & Timezone: Tash, old enough to retire, UTC +10

Your Birthday: August 1st (fun fact, I share it with all the horses down under)

Indiana Miles Waters turned 28 years old on September 1st. He’s a mechanic in Greensville. His face claim is Ryan Guzman.

Admin Note: Now to send in the URL, and remember to wait until his follow link is up to start posting!

Bio:

Miles had never been sure how his life would turn out. He’d never had that dream - not the grand, luxurious dream where everything was alright, the world at his fingertips. Not the suburban one, with white picket fences, 2.5 kids, and the golden retriever. He’d had enough trouble picturing a steady home … four walls, a roof. That was Miles’ endgame.

For as long as he could remember, Miles had lived with his father, his new partner, and his half-brother. It hadn’t been what Miles had wanted, but Miles, the four-year-old in the middle of the chaos, hadn’t had a say. And he hadn’t gotten one in all of the years to follow - no tantrum, no screaming match, no threat would sway Jaxon Water’s decision. And so, Miles was permitted one day a month - one lousy day - to visit his mother. Jaxon had carried on like it was a gift, a blessing through his spite. Miles’ hatred had deepened. The gum on his shoe meant more to him (the gum, he’d argue, was something to eat, more than Jaxon bothered to put on their table).

Still … it hadn’t been all bad. Miles wouldn’t go so far as to call it a home, but he’d had a family. He’d had his brother. It hadn’t been perfect - Miles, after all, hadn’t signed up to become a live-in babysitter, hadn’t requested a shadow, hadn’t wanted to worry about someone other than himself. But … he’d taken it on, and he’d tucked Fin under his wing without raising a fuss. No-one could say he’d done well, but Miles had tried. Dammit, Miles had tried for Fin.

Lifting the odd loaf of bread, gallon of milk, or bottle of cough medicine from their local corner store was a quick fix, and Miles had mastered it by the age of twelve. His methods weren’t ideal, but he’d learned to stand on his own to feet - and he’d learn, in his own … particular way, how to scrape by for himself and his brother. Life hadn’t been perfect, but Miles knew his place in it. And then, Carmen had passed away. Miles’ one day, his escape, was gone. Carmen had been spiralling for a long time, never having truly recovered from the break-up, the affair, from Jaxon’s continuing torment … Miles had watched it happen, Jaxon had watched it happen, and the grieving 12-year-old would not forget that. It was Jaxon’s fault. Jaxon and the other woman.

He’d needed an out. But to get there, he’d needed cash. An income he was never going to get from Jaxon … but Jaxon wasn’t important. MIles only had to find the right people, the right in (to get out), whisper the right words in the right ears, and before long, he was running “errands” across Daytona Beach, putting those early pickpocketing, shoplifting skills to the test. The first and only tests he’d passed with flying colours. One thing had led to another, and before long, Miles was in too deep. He wasn’t too far gone not to recognise that, but he was too involved to back away. And he wouldn’t want t. For the first time in his life, Miles had something. Besides, what was one missing sports car? They could get another. The fuckers could afford it. And deserved it if they were stupid enough to leave the vehicle within reach … nevermind the locked garages. Security? Miles didn’t know her.

He’d never wanted to drag Fin down with him. The auto theft circuit wasn’t meant to be his brother’s future, Miles had wanted better for him … but he’d fucked up. Like everything else in his life, that had blown up in his face. It wasn’t until the girlfriend that Miles saw the opportunity to shock Fin back into sense, back to school … hell, back to sanity. Safety. The girl - Legs? Blondie? Miles never could remember her name - had a reputation. Miles knew it, everyone knew it … everyone, it seemed, but Fin. She’d been taking his brother for a ride - Miles, and God-knows-who-else. Miles had lost track of the stories. Her stories. He’d tried to warn him, has gone so far as to try and trick him into walking in on her and her latest fling. It hadn’t worked … nothing had worked.

Until one night, pissed beyond measure at the trouble his brother’s antics had caused, furious at the repercussions he could already feel raining down on his head (it wouldn’t be the first time Miles had taken the brunt of his brother’s consequences, and it wouldn’t be the last), he’d lost whatever sense he’d had left. Fin wouldn’t listen. Miles would make him listen. Legs - he really sure had at least remembered her name - had been all too eager. A tumble between the sheets with the older brother had been on her radar, whether either of the Waters had been aware of it or not.

Miles should have known it would go south. In fact … he’d never admit it, but the dark, twisted part of him that had been festering for years, had known exactly what it would do. Fin had crossed a line, Miles had burned every last bridge. The fights had escalated, five minutes couldn’t pass between them without a black eye, or a busted lip. And that was on a good day. Miles had been practicing his suturing for years … and that was a damn good thing.  Doctors asked too many questions.

Miles hadn’t known of Fin’s mistake with the kid until the day of the speedway bust. The day their lives went to shit (and that, Miles thought, was saying something). He’d been ready, a master of excuses, to fight, to snag himself a shorter sentence … even better, no sentence! But … but Fin. Despite everything, Miles had stuck his hand up, he’d claimed full responsibility. Miles had taken the fall, the plea, he’d barked “guilty” to anyone who would listen. He’d kept his brother out of it.

… only to find out that while Miles had sacrificed his own freedom for Fin, Fin had done nothing but toss himself deeper into Hell’s clutches. Seven (in what initially had been nine) years of his life for nothing. Freedom, Miles realised when he was granted it, and took his first steps as a free man since 21, didn’t taste sweet. It tasted bitter. Fin wasn’t the little brother he’d sacrificed the last bowl of cereal for, or given whatever loose change he could scrounge together for one last shot at Space Invaders … Fin was someone else. Something else. He wasn’t family. Carmen was, and she’d been gone 15 years.

Now, Miles’ plans are up in the air. He isn’t naive enough to believe it’s as easy as “turning his life around”, and … he isn’t sure that he wants to. With no qualifications, no real education beyond his GED, and a criminal record behind him, he knows his chances are slim. Just as he knows that with the right connections … well, every door would be opened to him once more. And this time, he knew what not to do. He wouldn’t get caught, for one. And he wouldn’t have Fin dragging him down. He may have secured himself a probationary position at one of Greensville’s garages, but … only time would tell if Miles could keep himself on the straight and narrow, for once in his damn life.

Activity (1-10): 6-7 (lurking though? About a 20)

Have you read the rules?: removed

In the event that you leave, can we keep your biography for future use? No, sorry!

Sample:

Legitimate jobs, Miles was learning, were the new and improved bane of his entire existence. 

There were start times. And right now, that meant rolling out of the warmth of– what was her name again? It meant rolling out of the warmth of Last Night's bed, and fucking off while she showered. There’d be no return invite - not that he’d been looking for one. He was a free man, and free men were … well, free to take advantage of that. 

Kicking his feet from the bed, Miles hauled his jeans up, and set out in search of his shirt while his hands worked to buckle his belt. It wasn’t in the bedroom - had she taken it to the bathroom? Fucker. He didn’t have time for that crap. Just as he was prepping himself to don his jacket and his head off, he spotted the missing top, tossed over the coffee table, a makeshift grey place mat. Crinkled to shit, but Miles didn’t care. What mechanic ironed his fucking t-shirts? 

It should have been a case of waltzing from the door (in fact, it should have been a case of waiting to say goodbye before seeing himself out), but that wasn’t on Miles’ agenda. Instead, he took himself to the kitchen, snagging a banana from Last Night’s fruit bowl, and proceeded to the door from there … along with the coffee shop loyalty card propped against her key bowl. Get the sixth free.

Today was his lucky day. 

[thegeekcurmudgeon]

The Other Worlds Austin 2017 preview Day 3

Design by tattoo and graphics artist David Poe

Returning for a fourth exciting year, Other Worlds Austin, one of the premier SciFi Film Festivals in the US, features some of the best and unheralded genre films. Beginning on Thursday December 7 at Flix Brewhouse, the four day event includes 16 full length films, a slew of shorts, and a screenwriting workshop. Not terribly surprising to anyone who regularly follows my writings, I’ll be at the event.

Here’s what to expect at Other Worlds Austin 2017

shows

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 9

10 AM – 11:30 AM FILM TALKS: PHILIP EISNER TALKS EVENT HORIZON BLACK HOLE TO HELL: THE USE, REUSE AND ABUSE OF ARCHETYPES IN SCIFI AND HORROR (AND SCIFI HORROR)

Location: Austin School of Film at Motion Media Arts Center Address:  2200 Tillery Street – Austin, Texas 78723

(Open to the public, but please RSVP as a courtesy)

Can the familiar still frighten you? How do movies marvel us with visions of a future inspired more often than not, by other movies we’ve seen? Join acclaimed screenwriter Philip Eisner (EVENT HORIZON) as he breaks down some well-travelled cinematic set pieces (haunted houses, mystical swords, blood-thirsty monsters) across the genres to show how writers build off memory to construct their own mythology. Featuring clips from a variety of films, this workshop is perfect for genre filmmakers and fans alike. Remember, where we’re going, we won’t need eyes to see.

12:10PM UNDER WORLD SHORTS

Taste

Adrian Selkowitz | USA | 13min Writer: Lauren Kincheloe

Claire, a beautiful and calculating trophy wife, has convinced her husband to invite an influential Hollywood power couple to dinner, believing that preparing an elaborate meal for them might result in her starring in her own cooking show. Things begin to go awry when the arriving guests step over a woman’s naked body in the driveway.

Paul’s Bad Day

Phil Bucci | USA | 2min

After blacking out, Paul wakes to find his world changed forever. (Alumi: Special Forces‘16)

Spell Claire

Greg Emetaz | USA | 8min

Claire purchases an antique educational toy that reignites fond memories from childhood and lays bare the sorry state her life is now in.

Mary & Marsha in the Manor of Madness

Kris Theorin | USA | 3min

Sinister secrets await as Mary helps her girlfriend Marsha escape from her parent’s gothic mansion one dark and eldritch night, a Lovecraftian escapade through the Manor of Madness.

Immersion

Mikhael Bassilli | USA | 7min

A man mysteriously finds himself in a room with a couple dead guys, a gun, some money, and a dubious gentleman observing from the shadows.

Studded Nightmare

Jean-Claude Leblanc | Canada | 9min

When J.-F. is inexplicably drawn to the chair in which a man committed suicide, style isn’t the only thing the leather antique brings to his home.

Couples Night

The Summers Brothers | USA | 4min

A couples night goes off the rails when one couple reveals they’re blood sacrificing devil worshippers. And then things get weird…(Alumni: The Bench ’16)

Three Skeleton Key

Andrew Hamer | USA | 10min

In this adaptation of the George G. Toudouze classic short story, an American lighthouse crew become unnerved when a ship ignores their light, running aground on the reefs. They soon discover that something is on board the ship, and it’s not human.

La Sirena

Rosita Lama Muvdi | USA | 24min

In this psychosexual fairy tale set in a small fishing village, after Hector threatens to end his affair with Mia, she discovers a mysterious woman, Mara, washed up on shore, naked and with a hook lodged into her ribcage.

Holiday Fear

Nicholas Santos | USA | 4min

In the final act of a slasher film, Bruce attempts to reclaim his manliness and impress the final girl by finishing off the killer.

  12:25PM CLOSER THAN WE THINK (WORLD PREMIERE)

Brett Ryan Bonowicz | USA | 85min

Cast: Syd Mead, Aubrey de Grey, and Matt Novak

From 1958 to 1963, a Sunday comic strip predicted the future. Arthur Radebaugh’s Closer Than We Think represents mid-century futurism at its most daring and optimistic. From Robot Driving to Space Monkey Colonies, Radebaugh’s visions of the future heavily influenced The Jetsons and many of his predictions have come true in the decades since the strip first ran in newspapers. Featuring interviews with designers Syd Mead (Tron, Blade Runner), and Rick Guidice (NASA), futurists like Kirk Citron (Editor of The Long News), scientists like Aubrey de Grey (SENS Research Foundation) and historians of mid-century futurism, this documentary tells the story of Arthur’s life and explores what it means to predict the future. A love letter to the mysterious illustrator from those of us living in his future. (Alumni: The Perfect 46 ’14)

  2:45PM SCIFI SHORTS – ALL THAT CAN BE KNOWN

Seam

Elan Dassani & Rajeev Dassani | USA | 21min

When Yusef discovers his beloved wife Ayana is a Sleeper, a living android bomb left over from a past war, he has only one choice: flee with her to the border of the Machine homeland in the desert, and pray they can make it before time runs out.

Scanners

Natalie Jenison | TEXAS | 15min

Alan’s new job as a member of a security scan team is to do nothing but attend the mysteriously non-functioning scanner under the watchful eye of a paranoid boss until he fixes the machine and unwittingly opens a portal into the unknown.

The Quantified Self

Gleb Osantinski | USA | 16min

Writers: Gleb Osatinski, Danielle Ellen

When well-meaning parents turn the self-tracking into a family religion, the consequences fall outside the quantifiable. (Alumni: House at the Edge of the Galaxy ’14)

Einstein-Rosen

Olga Osorio | Spain | 9min

Summer of 1982. Teo claims he has found a wormhole. His brother Óscar does not believe him… at least not for now.

Skinjacker

Dan Horrigan | UK | 6min

After the evacuation it’s possible to go months without seeing another human being. So we turned to Pleasure Core ltd to keep us human – and being human has some dark surprises. (Alumni: Populace ’16)

The Ningyo

Miguel Ortega | USA | 27min

Writers: Miguel Ortega, Tran Ma, Gregory Collins

Professor Marlowe finds a piece of a map pointing to the place where the Ningyo, a mythical Japanese creature, could be found. He decides to risk everything and go after the Ningyo on his own in hopes to bring to light what could be one of the greatest contributions to science. What he could not anticipate is that, in his search, he is confronted with a choice that puts the very foundations of his morality to the test.

3:00PM PAINLESS (TEXAS PREMIERE)

  Jordan Horowitz | USA | 91min

Writer: Jordan Horowitz Cast: Joey Klein, Evelina Marie, Kip Gilman, Pascal Yen-Pfister

Born with a rare condition that leaves him alienated and unable to feel physical pain, Henry Long becomes obsessed with finding a cure. A need for normalcy leads him down a dark path where he must decide if finding a cure is worth paying the ultimate price.

  Painless screens with:

Appellation

Tracy Mathewson | UK | 11min

A scientist’s secret research is threatened when a neighbour reports his suspicious behaviour to the ruthless investigator tasked with finding and eliminating extremists like himself.

  5:30PM DEFECTIVE (US PREMIERE)

Reese Eveneshen | Canada | 102min

Writer: Reese Eveneshen Cast: Ashley Armstrong, Colin Paradine, Dennis Andres, Jamie Elizabeth Sampson, Raven Cousens

In the near future, Rhett Murphy and his estranged sister Jean are forced to flee from a militant police state after witnessing the dark secrets of a nefarious corporation. With a robotic police force and their killer drones commissioned to capture or terminate them, the siblings search for shelter and a way to take down the repressive regime that rules their lives.

  5:40PM TUFTLAND(KYRSYÄ) (NORTH AMERICAN PREMIERE)

Roope Olenius | Finland | 89min

Writers: Roope Olenius Cast: Veera W. Vilo, Saara Elina, Neea Viitamäki, Miikka J. Anttila.

A headstrong textile student tries to overcome her problems by accepting a summer job offer from an isolated and offbeat village of Kyrsyä. Once there, she finds her host family’s bucolic existence hides a dark undercurrent of female repression and cult-like conformity.

(In Finnish with English subtitles)

  8:20PM GNAW (TEXAS PREMIERE)

Haylar Garcia | USA | 98min

Writers: Jim Brennan, Haylar Garcia, and Kathryn Gould. Cast: Penelope Mitchell, Kyle Gass, Chris Johnson Sally Kirkland.

Jennifer Conrad is a small-town girl starting over in the big city. Fleeing an abusive relationship, all she wants is a chance to begin again. But it is hard to start over when something is eating you while you sleep … one painful bite at a time.

  8:25PM MINDHACK (NORTH AMERICAN PREMIERE)

Royce Gorsuch | USA |101min

Writer: Royce Gorsuch Cast: Chris Mason, Spencer Locke, and Faran Tahir.

Mason, a young mad genius attempts to ‘hack the human mind’ in order to fix humanity.  Mason believes that if we can reset the brain then we will move away from wars and hate, and can instead exist in harmony. During the course of his experiments Mason accidentally gives physical form to his inner voice, Finn, and the pair must work together to stop the opposing forces attempting to coopt the same technology for evil.

  11:00PM PURPLE FURY (WORLD PREMIERE)

Classified | USA | 120min

Writer: George Miller, Brendan McCarthy, Nico Lathouris, Ritchie Blackmore, Ian Gillan, Roger Glover, Jon Lord, Ian Paice, Prince, Robert DeLeo, Dean DeLeo, and Scott Weiland Cast: Tom Hardy, Charlize Theron, Nicholas Hoult

This road warrior gets captured, but it’s not really about him, it’s about this bad ass woman, who liberates all these other women and drives them across the desert in cinema’s longest car chase. One of the most talked about SciFi films of the decade is stripped of sound, given a purple tint, and synced up to Deep Purple’s Machine Head album, Prince’s Purple Rain and Stone Temple Pilot’s Purpe album.  Roger Waters claimed Dark Side of the Moon was recorded without once thinking of Wizard of Oz, and were pretty sure no one ever intended this pairing either.  Badges only, no individual tickets will be sold.

The Other Worlds Austin 2017 preview Day 3 was originally published on The Geek Curmudgeon

[im-pretending-imthere-already]

By the warm current

Tw: heavy topics and mention of murder and abuse

As kids, my sister and I spent our summers near the river, often falling on our long garments. Our knees scraped and bruised by the sharp rocks that lay beside the strong, warm stream. The hot days rushed by as we spent our hours playing under the hot, blinding sun. If my sister adored anything, it was birds. Often we spent our days searching for them in the scorching heat of the summer, looking for all the wings that have been neatly crafted, threaded into shape. Our collection of feathers of all colours were kept safe, hidden to preserve their infinite beauty, kept in a wooden rustic box under our bed. The box neatly tucked away between the sheets that were perfectly stored by mother. One grim evening, one of my older siblings had found our box hidden between the worn out blankets, that night we were forced into womanhood, our childhood was stripped away from us. Our summers were no longer warm, our knees left with scars.

What is it to truly be a woman? A question I still struggle with. Reverend Michael often referred to womanhood as preparing to serve God by serving your husband, which we spent the following years doing, leaving our ambitions and dreams of independence behind. Our personalities were to be crushed under the high expectations of becoming nothing other than slaves which men used. Our days were spent caring for our younger siblings who occupied our time dirtying the floors we just scrubbed. Our womanhood, reduced to becoming mothers and leaving our aspirations for our sons. Too tall, too confident, too short, too skinny, too immodest, too fat, too lanky, too talkative, too hairy, too loud, too aggressive, our existence is nothing more than a checklist for men to choose from. Growing up, I admired adulthood. I admired the idea of growing up to serve my husband, the idea of dressing modestly and spending my time cleaning, to become a woman. But as I reached womanhood I began despising it. 

My teenage years were regulated by the women of the church who made it their mission to crush my dreams, my life was to be sacrificed for god. Waking up to the screaming children of the church who demanded breakfast, my days were the same every single day. After the tedious mornings of cooking, cleaning and caring tirelessly, we met the citrus trees sprinkled with the soft dew on their delicate leaves in the community garden as we planned to prepare our annual lemon pie. Every year we were to prepare a feast full of food, including our lemon pie as the dessert for the mating party. This glamorous party was only a facade, a sweet glaze over a dark oppressive, controlled, and abusive future. This year was different however, as I was becoming a woman of age, all day I had been thinking about what was to come, the life I was forced to have, pushed into a designated role my whole life. This is it, this is the dream of the church, this is what my life was to be, what my family had planned, what the reverend had envisioned.

That day I realised I couldn't do this, after seeing all the women blatantly eyed by the men of the church, scanned from bottom to up, graded as if they were a gift to be expected, a helpless little kitten to be chosen from a shelter or rescued from a basket left on the road. My older sister stood beside me, we glared at each other exchanging the same thoughts. Our life was more than this, our dreams were not to be forgotten, hidden in the blankets of our mind. I had heard about a couple of people who had escaped before, I didn’t know how to but we had to get out. That night I decided to do the unthinkable, I had to make a plan, I had to take action, I had to escape this cage and fly away. 

Reverend Michael was my father however he was never a typical father, more like a shepherd grazing his sheep, controlling us to become nothing more than slaves for his sick fantasies. He slept in the cabin house beside ours, but I knew he was going to arrive late today due to the ceremony, like every year before. It was the perfect time, as if the universe aligned for our freedom. In my nightgown I slid out as my sister was fast asleep. The night was dark, the air thick and foggy, the moon barely lit watching over me as I ran barefoot, in my white gown to the reverend's cabin. I knew where to look, under the vase he kept his spare key, which I used to unlock his door. I walk in knowing exactly where to find what I'm looking for, his diary, kept in the last drawer of his desk conveniently hidden in between his bibles. I flick through the delicate pages looking for something useful, when I stubble across the gold mine. It wrote the name of a woman named “Angela Zachery” and her cabin number''14”, suspected of breaking out “Mary Williams”. I quickly close the book, return his diary precisely into its spot and leave the same way I entered, leaving no trace behind me. 

The coming night my mind was occupied with one thought, cabin 14. I couldn’t just leave, I had to make sure it was clear. It took a couple nights which felt like forever but eventually I got there. I remember it like it was yesterday. It was a Friday night, everyone had got to their cabins early after a hard day of work and the daily evening lecture was longer than usual. The pathways were empty, the road clear. I made my way, a little more professional than the night of the ceremony, in my brown dress and hand woven cardigan that wrapped its threads around my shoulders supporting me through my journey. If I was found by any person or even if “Angela” was a scam I would end up 6 feet deep into the ground before sunrise. I took the chance walking across the church to his cabin, no one was around, no one to be seen spying. I knocked on the door anticipating the worst, painting the images of my death. My life dissolving into nothing more than a forgotten story in the depths of my memories, an old story tale kept at the back of a dusty bookshelf. The door opened ever so slightly as I felt the fear shake through my body. She grabbed me inside so hard I stumbled inside falling to my knees in front of her as he shut the door aggressively. I introduced myself and explained my story and she sat there listening. Her eyes stared at me aggressively yet with a shadow of love. Her agreement brought me feelings, flushing my skin, red. Independence, freedom, individuality, expression, life. All books that she dusted alive within an instant. My dreams of independence and freedom rushed back through my bones to the crevices of my every thought. It was scheduled Thursday night. 

The night before the escape was probably one of the hardest and most important nights of my life, I was breaking the cage and finally getting the opportunity to fly, but the thought of leaving everything and everyone I knew terrified me. I wasn’t to ever clean after my siblings, but I wasn’t ever going to see them again. I wasn’t going to have to make lemon pie for the church, but I wasn’t going to celebrate with all my family ever again. Laying in my bed I couldn’t get my eyes to shut as I laid there staring at the ceiling. The only support holding me together was the sheets I laid in and the light breathing of my sister beside me. 

My bags packed, my thoughts collected, my breathing stable. This was it, this was my freedom. I get to leave and not look back. It was starting to get dark, the last evening to spend in this hell of a place. The trees rustling in the wind and air smelling of wood fire. I had kissed each of my younger siblings goodbye, hoping I would remain alive in their memories. My sister spent that evening reading, which we did often. An outlet we used to let our imagination roam free to live the lives we wish we had. As we put our coats on we stared at each other with fear, the sun had set and the sky was so empty reflecting the withdrawal we were to be hit with. We looked at each other and left, never to set foot in the cabin ever again. 

Angela has sent some, waiting for us. He had a car organized outside the fence, we just had to make it outside. In the dark night, we threw our long dress off and climbed the fence gripping the holes with all our strength, looking back I could see Angela in the distance leaving. Climbing faster and faster, our bodies shaking with fear, our hearts anticipating our freedom. Hand over hand, foot over foot, we rose higher and higher. It felt like forever until we reached the top, then at the tip I stared into my sisters eyes when I heard a bang! My soul left my body for a moment from the fear as I saw my sister's body growing limp, her back falling into the fence becoming one with it. I stared into the sky for a moment, knowing I was targeted, I had no time. I had to leave my sister behind, running my way down the fence. I felt the wind brushing my cheeks, the heat irritating my skin. As I reached the last few steps I fell onto the floor, my vision blurring into two. There was no option but to get up, leaving my sister hanging on the fence and running into the truck. 

As fast as my life gained sweetness it got bitter again. I stayed in a home with many people, I had food and clothing. But life without my sister was hard, the image of her murder remaining drilled into my head. I saw the soul leave her body, I saw her life end. I often wonder how different things would have turned out if I never left, if I was caught, if we moved a metre to the right, if we left on Friday? 

My favourite place grew to become the beach, reminding me of the warm river my sister and I loved ever so dearly,  connecting our dreams to every nook of the world. As I sit here today, on the warm sand, I often find myself looking beside me to find my sister's spirit constantly gifting me with feathers. Today I have the privilege of sitting on this beach, feeling the wind through my hair, the cool breeze on my shoulders and my sister's feathers can be forever stored, kept safe and loved, not to be a secret but to be a memory of resilience.

- all feedback is appreciated <3

[ttkinnie]

Fr, I think that's what's disappointing to many people about the reveal of his motivations. Because there isn't the expected consequence of him breaking down due to Hinata's rejection and subsequent murders of her and michi. Where was the emotional weight to everything he's done? Only time was his one manly tear when almost shooting michi and that's like my favorite scene of him with the breakdown after being kicked out of Toman.

The consequences of Time traveller takemichi just leaving are so funny to me. Wym I don't remember getting almost killed? How did I wake up in this situation? Tbh my headcanon is that Kisaki always kind of kills himself down the road. By losing his edge (he stops caring) or his sanity (getting paranoid and killing all of his allies) or doing it himself. There's a comfort knowing in the end he loses by never being happy while takemichi always had hinata's love while he was alive (<- I love pain).

For the og timeline I feel like he did the same thing but with izana who's bound to be crazier due to shin being alive but not caring one bit about him and being busy with mikey. The goose image is sooooo real i can never see him accepting peace even in the last tl (unrequited love for both hinata and takemichi, the wedding is the worst day of his life lmaooo)

Tormented by the thoughts of Kisaki's possible upbringing. Like you can't tell me a kid who dedicated his entire life to a girl who was kind to him for five seconds was not somewhat neglected. Bullying at school? Absent parents? Like they weren't even at the same school, they went to the same cram school!

From his bedroom, you can tell his family is pretty rich (tons of books and like three pc monitors at thirteen plus gaming console and a TV? Okay dude) so the parents spending all of their time at work is plausible.

Also him at like 11 being all superior thinking he's the smartest guy around= putting all of his value in his intellect -> parents that probably ask for the best results and nothing else?

And the fact that he's so alienated from the other kids even at cram school. There's gotta be some flavour of bullying in there, especially with how common it is in Japan plus with the timeline (the 80s and 90s being the worst in terms of bullying -I have a source for that lmaooo this my researcher bias).

Because I wonder what turned tiny shy Kisaki into a criminal in *checks notes* two years.