#i only hope to attain that level of freak one day

[orangekittyenergy]

Gale just needs someone to match his freak.

Hell yes he does!! But you know what?

...Gale Dekarios, Mr. Astral-clone-gangbang-in the stars, Mr. Does everything at 110%, Mr. I Once Read A Book On The Subject, Mr. Horny on main (on the battlefield), Mr. Not Coy, Mr. I like your musk....

That Gale?

I don't think anyone can match his freak. 😩 But in the words of Gale "... But we shall try."

[demonslayedher]

Things that went through my head while watching this episode:

--This is the episode when I can most look at Gyokko's eyes as eyes

--We were robbed of the chance to see Muichiro and Shinobu tag-teaming on a verbal slaughter of a demon

--That said, with how much I started wanting more Muichiro & Kanamori interaction in the previous episode, I was really, really, really happy to get it here. Kanamori's freak-out performance is a gem, and now I headcanon that in the immediate aftermath, Muichiro recovered in Kanamori's home so that he and his wife could look after him (and Kanamori could get to know him better, if only Muichiro weren't probably out cold (or hot?) for two days and then brought to the Butterfly Mansion where his temperature was recorded--but hey, the light novel gives me hope for more off-screen interactions).

--Haganezuka is such an MVP

--Kotetsu's calmness is so appreciated. He really is so stoic in a lot of ways, and wise beyond his years. ...Not always, of course.

--In the demon profiles in the second fanbook, their elimination is credited to the Corp members who killed them, though sometimes that credit is widely attributed if it was a group effort (for instance, everybody we focused on the Natagumo arc gets some credit in taking down Rui). In Gyokko's case, I think it's only fair if Kotetsu, Kanamori, and Haganezuka is get some credit in Gyokko's defeat. Muichiro wouldn't have survived without them.

--It really is Gyokko's bad luck he was the strongest opponent Muichiro has faced thus far, because that was part of what it took to push Muichiro to both a desperate point that tipped him over the edge in attaining both his mark and his memories. Gyokko was a goner against a genius with two power-ups, especially while he was already frustrated with a man like Haganezuka.

--Gyokko's final words about how he is a more perfect being than Muichiro sounded very Muzan-like, so I looked back in the fanbooks to double-check that indeed, Muzan rather likes Gyokko. Perhaps that it only due to selling his pots, because a one of my favorite 4-panel comics has Muzan very blatantly state that he doesn't care if Gyokko burns up in the sun, but I'd like to think Muzan found him likable for his own arrogance too. It was clear, of course, that Gyokko considers Muzan the most perfect being.

--This also reminded me Gyokko has a preference for eating children. Kinda ironic, dontcha think? Aside from being beaten by someone who is still practically a child, this battle could have been a lot darker if Gyokko took a hungry interest in Kotetsu.

--Ms. Tokito is pretty and I wish we got more of her. : /

--Muichiro is so many levels of child in this episode. Such a brat. The biggest brat. Snot-nosed, arrogant brat. BABY.

--I love how much this episode added little touches of humanity to Amane and her daughters; Ufotable really went for that. The struggle Amane, a mother of multiples, feels as he separates the twins' handhold. And then the narrative symmetry of having ghost!Yuichiro place his hand back on top of Muichiro's! Kya, I love it!!

--Speaking of love

--Mitsuri-chan, you may as well be the Angel Pillar. You are too sweet and graceful and wonderful for this world. That entrance, and it background music. That move wrapping the sword around one serpent and practically floating with the momentum as you use it to knock down the others. That cheerful assurance to your juniors. I love you. I love you right down to your peachy fingernails.

--Backing up a bit, credit where credit is due--Tanjiro is holding up amazing well and someone keeping minimally injured. He and Genya and Nezuko have been a significant help keeping him/them occupied this long, otherwise the damage to the village would have been far more wide-spread than just what the monster fishes did.

--Also, poor Tanjiro and Muichiro both have had to go this whole battle without shoes! Poor kids! And Nezuko too, those feet are just spares anyway.

--Genya is using those demon powers for more than just regeneration now! Look at him take on that serpent with his bare hands!

--I love how much Ufotable committed to making us feel everything Tanjiro went through in a series of very busy manga panels--his foot getting messed him, the damage to his ear and how that throws him off, and then that squeeze! It's easy to forget that happened in the manga because it was so quick, but with all those sound effects and darkness, they really sold how close he came to being mush. (Consider this practice, Tanjiro.)

--Thanks for the Rengoku feels, Gotouge. You crocodile.

[obeiii-mee]

Hi I hope you're fine! Can you make the reaction of the brothers to a Mc who managed to overtake Salomon and made 100 pacts, the 100 th being ... Diavolo himself ?! (idk if it is really possible) Thank you love on you

I don’t really know if it’s possible either but I gave it a go anyway! I love this concept tho because MC, being the powerhouse they are, now has absolute control of 100 demons one which is actual prince of hell. Idk why I find that funny tbh.

I hope you’re well too and that you enjoy reading these HCs!

————————————

The Brothers Reacting to MC who made 100 pacts:

Lucifer:

-*Surprised pikachu face*

-I’m sorry, w a t?

-Not only did an average human,with no magical capabilities whatsoever, beat a spectacular sorcerer in the span of just one year and managed to make 100 pacts before him

-But they also made a pact with Lord Diavolo as a grand finale??? (MC knows how to leave DevilDom with class holy shit)

-If you look closely enough, you can see Lucifer’s wheels spinning inside his head

-And here he thought you were going to get eaten in the first few days

-He needs to sit down for a few moments, his fucking logic has decided to take a walk

-He really went 0-0

-And on one hand, he’s totally impressed and actually very proud of their little exchange student

-But on the other hand, when tf did you have the time to make 100 pacts??

-You talked with at least 92 other demons and didn’t get murdered?

-Are all humans this hard to kill off or it just you?

-Taking aside his confusion and the way he worries like a middle aged parent, he’s actually pretty boastful about your situation

-Pride on another level, I’m telling you

- Pretty smug about it to Solomon too which is concerning because he isn’t really supposed to have favourites in the exchange program

-But he totally does

-“MC, you’re full of surprises aren’t you? You’re ability to adapt here is very impressive. Just don’t get too reckless, I don’t want you getting hurt.”

-Aw your tsundere and arrogant boyfriend actually really cares about your well being

Mammon:

-“But I’m still your first man, right?”

-Literally the first thing that leaves his mouth when he finds out

-Doesn’t matter how many pacts you make, he’s always going to insist he’s your first and therefore your best pact of them all

-He may freak out a bit at first because he doesn’t like the idea of you possibly chatting it up with other demons but he’s pretty chill

-Until you tell him about Lord Diavolo

-“Guess who just made a pact with Lord Diavolo!!”

-“Is it someone famous?”

-He’s a bit scared because the price you have to pay to be in a pact with Lord Diavolo is pretty damn high

-But if you keep insisting you will be fine, his worry will subside

-He’s a bit smug, like Lucifer, knowing you beat a powerful sorcerer in a non existent contest that he just made up in his mind

-Like “In your face Solomon, MY HUMAN got to make 100 pacts before you had the chance. Haha what a loser.”

-I feel like the brothers sometimes wish to just abandon Mammon somehowere so they don’t have to deal with this

-Dude doesn’t care how many pacts you have or with who as long as you remember ‘he was your first man.’

-Of course you of all people would be able to attain such a significant achievement

-You were his human after all

-No matter what you do, he will be even more smitten with you than before

Levi:

-“That’s cool. Will you pass me my headphones.”

-“....”

-“Wait....you did whAT?”

-You’re telling him that he barely has the courage to step outside the House of Lamentation but you can go right ahead and start making pacts with demons like it’s nothing???

-Did he just get beaten at life by a normie?? His normie even??

-He’s really panicking because the shit you’d have to deal with when making that kind of bond with Lord Diavolo is apparently very terrifying and he’s scared something bad will happen

-Pacts also mean markings on your body, so his whole jealousy thing kinda sparks here

-Because ‘it’s not fair you have all these people’s pact marks on you while mine is barely visible!”

-Even though his is like, really obvious too???

-Other than that, he just feels like you’re gaining EXP and getting stronger, like a video game character which is cool

-I want him to show up whenever MC gets in a new pact and just shout ‘Level Up!’ at the top of his lungs lmao

-He doesn’t have that much of an opinion on Solomon, besides his cooking, but he’s impressed and a bit scared that you can outdo a human like him in something as dangerous as this

-Lololololo, Solomon got wrecked by a human normie what a noob XD XD #badassnormie #solomoncanteven #gameoversorcerer

-The brothers seem pretty adamant at rubbing the salt into Solomon’s wounds, can we get an f in the chat for our white haired wizard boi

Satan:

-He knew that humans were capable of a lot of things but what the fuck?

-How is that even possible???? What is the likelyhood of a random human managing to make 100 pacts???

-He is probably the most unsettled because he relies on probability and logic to get him through his day to day life

-And that shit don’t make no fucking sense

-He’s not agitated, just very shocked

-And then he realises the potential threats you’ve been exposed to considering all the demons you’ve had a chat with

-So now he’s just thanking Lord Diavolo that you weren’t eaten alive by some lower level demon scum

-Don’t be surprised if he asks you how you went about when you started making pacts with demons

-You were always a bit of a special case and you certainly stood out from the very beginning but this was something completely different

-For a human like you, that is a very respected achievement you’ve unlocked

-Satan figures that since you made pacts with him and his brothers, you would try to do so with Lord Diavolo too

-But he actually accepted?? You just kinda gave up part of your soul to the demon prince and now you have full control over him???

-It’s amazing how easily you could make demons of all things to trust you

-He respects that and also appreciates your tactical approach to this as well

-It’d be pretty easy to summon a demon to get your ass out of danger if the need arises

-He has no idea what you do to him but it’s strange he would rather let you ramble on about the backstory of every pact you made in the past year than read his collection of books

-Wrath certainly isn’t the only thing in his heart right now

Asmo:

-#conflicted

-His partner beat his ex fuck-buddy at making a pact with Lord Diavolo

-Asmo knew you were special ever since that retreat at Lord Diavolo’s palace when you managed to summon him with such power

-But he definitely wouldn’t have guessed you would be capable of something like this

-Your bravery when it comes to this sort of thing endears him a lot

-He will probably want to see all of your pact marks now (haha you’re in danger)

-Unlike his brothers, he knew damn well why you had managed to make around 100 pacts in just one year

-Demons aren’t used to anything genuine or with good intent

-So, it makes sense they would be attracted like magnets to you and your approachable, kind nature

-After all, demons can’t deal with temptation very well

-Solomon is cunning and ominous, not that different from anyone else down there and it’s a fact the brothers don’t even trust him that much

-But Lord Diavolo?

-“MC honey you hit the jackpot! Tell me every little detail!! What happened? How did the topic of a pact come up?”

-He’s not worried about you overall

-Not because he doesn’t care but he believes that if you can survive for a year with the seven avatars of sin and also convince 93 other demons to make a pact with you, then you can handle whatever Lord Diavolo throws at you

-He probably buys a bunch of revealing clothing you can show off all of your marks because they look ‘fabulous’

-It’s the only think he’s gonna talk about for a while because how many other humans can say they have control of the prince of Hell???

-Asmo also acknowledges that Diavolo must have trusted you a lot for him to agree to this which he thinks is incredible

-He will definitely listen if you have any stories on the pacts you made because he finds them very thrilling and he loves the sound of your voice!!

-Again, he doesn’t need human souls, just a mirror, some skin products and drama to survive

-And you, if I had to guess

Beel:

-The calmest our of the seven about it

-You made a bunch of pacts? Cool, it just shows how strong and independent you are

-Which made him respect you even more to be honest

-He flinches a bit when you tell him about Lord Diavolo because he knows that the prince isn’t the type to agree to anything without being given something in return

-Even if he knows you can handle yourself, he will be right there beside you to help you out

-Also, uh, don’t tell Belphie about the pact thing Diavolo. He might blow a fuse

-You guys work out together sometimes and he is usually utterly mesmerised by all the pact marks you have on your body

-He kinda wishes you would have asked him or one of his brothers to come along with you when you made your pacts

-Just in case things went wrong

-He regrets a lot of things that had happened until now, but one thing he absolutely cherishes is the pact you made with him

-Beel is aware that his brothers think the same and if you think you can deal with the pressure of having some many demons under control, then he won’t nag you too much about being careful

-As for the Solomon thing, he doesn’t have much to say

-I mean, yeah, he is a sorcerer and you’re just a human but if you could make a pact with Lord Diavolo in such a small time frame before he even had the chance to?

-It means you’re just as special as he is

-And definitely a better cook

Belphie:

-ok maybe humans aren’t as stupid as he originally thought them to be

-Making pacts with so many demons is something that takes strength and intelligence, so props to you

-He would never admit it, but you being able to do all this shit without batting an eyelid is seriously restoring his love for humans and their culture

-might take a while tho

-He also wonders when you had the time to make so many bonds, considering he spends most of the day with you at RAD and at home

-Eh, he was probably asleep

-His view of you before the incident did a full 180 degrees

-This sort of thing in DevilDom is something worth praising, especially for an average human like you

-And ‘I guess you don’t look all that bad with so many pact marks on your body *angy boi blush* but I still like mine best!’

-It might be best not to mention the Lord Diavolo thing, otherwise his brain might snap in two

-But turns out, he seems pretty relaxed about it

-Too relaxed, I would say

-“Hey do you think you could use your pact with Lord Diavolo to do something that would tarnish his reputation and maybe embarrass Lucifer while you’re at it, idk.”

-Ah, so that’s what it was

-He’s such a mischievous, spoiled brat

-“No Belphie shush.”

-“I’m just saying-“

-Despite him hating humans way less nowadays, he still holds somewhat of a grudge against them

-Old habits die hard I suppose

-Especially for Solomon whom he never liked in the first place

-He finds it very amusing when he figures out you just beat Solomon at his life’s work in under a year

-He has a good chuckle about it but never actually brings it up in front of him

-Because he knows you’re gonna flick him over the ear for it

-Belphie is the youngest sibling and therefore the spoiled child, can’t change my mind

(Ok so poor Solomon, I kinda want to give him a hug now lol. Hope I didn’t make these too repetitive or short. Thank you for reading!)

Al~

[leechonspeeddial]

Midnight Shift: Of Whispers and Forbidden Buns

Word count: 1283 Read on ao3

"You're that Cullen girl, right?"

I ignored their barely suppressed giggles, but gave them an acknowledging thumbs up. Sadly, that only set them off harder. It appeared one of the downsides of working at this Burger King, besides the obvious reasons, was its proximity to the local high school.

Rather than roll my eyes in their face, I made the executive decision to give them the soggiest, saddest, smallest fries. It seemed that after my — truthfully anticlimactic — departure of East Ladle High, I had become an even bigger curiosity than my "siblings". Ever since word got around that one of those 'rich and gorgeous Cullen kids' had dropped out in favour of working a shitty customer service job, I had to deal with gaggles of teenagers showing up during lunch time to gawk at me.

"We'll call out when your order is ready, you guys can sit down" I smiled widely — fakely — and handed the assholes their soda cups. At least is was just the mean girl wannabe type today, dealing with the creepy admirers was nothing short of exhausting. If only because it made Edward even more unbearable than usual. I mentally grimaced at the memories.

When it became obvious I wasn't reacting to their bait, the girls finally walked away, whispering to each other, towards the tables — but as far from Jeremiah as they could manage. They clearly hated being here; they seemed to be specially disgusted over the omnipresent stickiness that plagued each surface in the building, but fuck them. No one made them come here, their choices were theirs, and they should just suck it up.

...

I'm not projecting. I'm not.

"Only two today, Res. Think you're becoming old news"

"That's Resentment Cannibal to you, old man," one of the upsides of working at Burger King had to be None of Your Fucking Business Kevin. Living with the Cullens meant being surrounded by people who mentally stopped developing before their brains were done cooking. The aforementioned Kevin — not to be confused with Gay Kevin or Straight Kevin — was forty-none-of-your-business-kid years old and the oldest person I regularly talked to ever since we left Forks over a decade ago. It was refreshing to spend time with someone who wasn't a teenager frozen in time and who was just so painfully human.

"Ok, cool it, Edgy Annie," he rolled his green eyes but still offered me some of his jalapeno cheddar bites. I gingerly grabbed a couple and munched on the mediocre and oily cheesy goodies.

"Thought you wanted to go on a diet," a particularly loud snort made me look towards the assholes who made my day worse. They were still whispering and glancing at me, as if I was something more interesting than a Burger King employee.

I mean. I was. But, like, they didn't know that. Couldn't know that.

"Ugh. Gross. No. I said I wanted to lose weight," I looked back at the man and raised my eyebrow.

"And how are you going to do that, if not by not devouring your weight in cheese?"

"You sound just like my little brother. He's a total granola freak. Eats kale and actually enjoys it," he shuddered and this time I rolled my eyes.

A soft thud signalled that the girls' order was ready, so I grabbed their meal and put it on a tray.

"Original Chicken Sandwich and Big Fish?" The blonde with glasses approached the counter and grabbed the tray. She didn't move away.

"Yes?" I asked hoping to convey how little I wanted to help her. If Gay Kevin hadn't already lectured me this week over being rude to customers, I so would tell her exactly what I'd do with her stupid stinky sandwich and exactly where I would shove that fish patty if she didn't fucking scram.

"Is it true?" I couldn't stop myself from looking surprised.

"Is what true?" Blondie quickly looked around the restaurant — pathetically empty, as always — and leaned slightly over the counter. I resisted the urge to also lean forward, because...because fuck her, damn it.

"That your brother knocked you up"

What the actual fuck.

I blinked and barely even noticed None of Your Fucking Business Kevin choking out of the corner of my eye. For the first time in my life, I was left speechless.

Blondie took my silence as an invitation to continue talking — clearly unaware of how easily I could murder her and get rid of the body.

"That's what everyone is saying. That you dropped out because your parents disowned you after they found out"

"Are you fucking high? Am I fucking high right now?" Were the cheddar bites actually Straight Kevin's edibles? Because there was no way this was a conversation that was actually happening in real life. Were Bella and Edward right? Was this Burger King really hell?

"Which brother?" I glared at the fucker. I was taking back everything nice I ever said about None of Your Fucking Business Kevin, the traitor.

Blondie's grin widened, revealing the most evil of dimples.

"Her brother-brother. Not the foster/step ones," my eyes widened and I barely managed to repress my gagging. Of course, my fucking father. Fucking Edward.

I wanted to die.

I said as much.

"So its true?" Blondie's friend, High-Pony, apparently was now at the counter too. Fantastic.

Blondie and High-Pony both stared expectantly at me.

"Let me get this straight. Apparently, my brother," I actually gagged this time, "knocked me up and my parents decided to only disown me? Is that right?"

The girls nodded in sync, like the demons they were.

"You get why that makes no sense, right? Why not disown Edward too?"

"The patriarchy" High-Pony shrugged. I closed my eyes and slowly counted down from ten.

"Ok, this is what's going to happen" I clapped between words, trying to keep my hands from strangling two innocent teenagers in front of my coworker. "You two are going to take your crappy food to go and I promise I won't spit on your food the next time you come here" the girls scoffed and showed no signs of moving.

"Jeremiah, buddy, could you please walk these girls out? There's a pie with your name on it if you can lend us a hand" Ok, the traitor wasn't so bad after all. But he was on thin ice.

Blondie and High-Pony didn't waste a second getting out the store after hearing that. It really was disgusting how some people reacted to Jeremiah.

"Am I still getting that pie, Freckles?" I smirked and heard None of Your Fucking Business Kevin sigh. No one here had any intention of using his real name.

"Of course, Jem. Your choice" Jeremiah's smile lit up his face, the room even.

"You're not so bad, ya know. Despite your crap taste in music" And now they were arguing about old people music again. A tired argument that no one won, but amused Jeremiah endlessly.

It was moments like these that reminded me why I dropped out and got a job here in the first place. I felt more alive after spending one day with Jeremiah and the Kevins than a decade with the Cullens. The Cullens were just...unreachable.

They were so detached of humanity, despite their proximity to it. But, just like in The Creation of Adam, the divine doesn't actually touch the human. They just gaze down, firmly on different levels from each other. They cared more to attain the aesthetics and the possessions than to develop actual relationships. Why bother living among humans, faking humanity, if you were going to keep them at an arm's length?

I shook my head and joined in the argument.

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “Ghost Driver” Part 2

When The Joker says you’re his, it means you’re essential to him because he needs your services for his own gain; it literally has zero affectionate connotations. Turbo is The King’s Ghost Driver and although she’s a legend, her life is far from perfect.

Part 1

Four Days Afterwards, 7:47pm

“Good evening, madam. I am tonight’s entertainment,” Frost blurs out as soon as you open the door and instantly regrets his pun. “Sorry, that was stupid to say,” he apologizes.

The reason why you look puzzled is not his joke, but another motive: you never saw Jonny wearing anything else besides a suit or military gear; the fact that he’s standing in front of you wearing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt is quite intriguing.

“Hi,” you move aside so he can come in.

“Did I wake you up?”

“I fell asleep watching a movie,” Y/N smiles at his comfortable attire. “No big deal. Did Mister Joker send you?” the subtle question indicates you want to find out the reason for his visit.

“No... I was just thinking… maybe we could… and it’s entirely up to you, no pressure… maybe you would want to go and watch the fireworks with me. I have food and sleeping bags, plus an ice chest with drinks in my truck.”

You seem confused.

“Mmmm, you know what? Forget about it. That was completely idiotic to suggest,” Frost realizes that asking a freshly divorced woman to get out of the house after she was kidnapped and starved into her ex’s basement only four days ago it’s not the most brilliant idea he ever had.

“You had me at food and fireworks,” you wink at his insecurity. “The drinks sealed the deal. I’m confused on one detail: do I have to change or can I come in my PJ’s?”

“PJ’s are perfect.”

“Awesome!” you grab the keys from the coffee table. “Where exactly are we heading?”

“Fire Creek Hill, it’s one of the best spots to enjoy the view,” Jonny replies.

“Isn’t that closed to the general public?” Y/N inquires and his logic makes you laugh while exchanging your socks for flip-flops.

“I doubt we’re considered the general public. I had to pull some strings though,” he admits, overjoyed you actually agreed to accompany him.

Not that he shows it in any other way besides the invitation he barely mustered the courage to extend towards The Joker’s Ghost Driver.

*************

9:03pm  

“Oh, it’s starting!” you excitedly nibble on your Alfredo pasta.

The first fireworks bloom in the distance and Frost opens the cooler, pointing out the goodies he salvaged from the liquor store.

“Pick your poison: we have a bottle of premixed margarita, wine, whiskey, tequila and…,” he fumbles around,”…try to contain yourself: water!”

“You definitely bought some of my favorites , including the food. How did you guess?” the bubbly Y/N smiles.

“I pay attention,” Jonny mentions. “So what’s gonna be?”

“Margarita please,” you hold the plastic cup and can’t help snickering as he pours the liquid.

“What?” he suspiciously bites on his cheek.

“Nothing really… I was imagining you without the beard,” you decide not to keep it a secret.

“Damn!” Frost snorts. “I had it for years; didn’t consider shaving because our employer would freak out. Stop giggling, it’s not funny! He totally would!” Jonny elbows you.

“I bet you have a baby face underneath all that facial hair; if you shave I can promise a new nickname will arise: Baby- Face Frost.”

“Shut up!” he chuckles at your quirky proposal. “Yet I can’t deny it has a certain ring to it.”

“See what I mean? It might work!... Oh my God, that’s a huge one!” you gasp, distracted by the sparkling night sky. “What are they celebrating? 150 years since this piece of crap town was founded?”

“Apparently,” Jonny sighs and watches Y/N bundle up in the sleeping bag.

“Thank you for the feast,” your tone changes to a serious one. “I didn’t have this much fun in the back of a truck in a long time. Go ahead, laugh!” you pout at his reaction. “I’m aware how it sounds like; I didn’t mean it that way!!!”

“Still funny as hell!” Jonny is getting a kick out of the conversation.

“Psst! Hey, Casanova!” The Joker’s mop of green hair pop up from behind the car’s high railing.

“Mister Joker!” you get startled by his unexpected presence.

“Boss, what are you doing here?” Frost utters in disbelief.

“Why aren’t you answering your phone, huh?” J ignores his henchman’s inquiry.

“It’s in the glove compartment, sir. I’m enjoying the…”

“Pardon me for interrupting your date,” The King of Gotham huffs.

“We’re not on a date,” the attempted explanation gets cut short.

“Sell it to whoever wants to buy it,” The Joker growls at Jonny’s words. “I had to follow the signal from your cell and trace your location; what a marvelous bonus to find my Turbo also!”

The eerie grin makes you finally speak up:

“Do you need help with anything Mister J?”

“Do I?” he plays dumb. “Probably.”

Why does he have to ruin the night? Frost reflects, annoyed.

Nobody knows, but if he could spend ages in your company, he believes it would be an eternity well spent.

And The Joker had to ruin it.

Goddammit!

“Can you patch me up?” J takes of his jacket, revealing a blood stained shirt.

“What happened?” you and Jonny jump off the vehicle.

“I got myself in a little bit of a situation,” he grumbles. “It’s a clean wound; the bullet came out on the other side.”

“We should take you to the doctor, boos; you need stitches!”

“Thanks for your concern, Doctor Frost,” The Joker sassily remarks. “I’ll go in the morning.  I have more important matters to take care of tonight.”

You peel off his garment and assess the damage; he can’t hold it in:

“I bet you wanted to do this after I texted you my nudes, huh?”

You have to admit he caught you by surprise with his statement and the best solution in this situation is to cooperate:

“Been dreaming about it quite often.”

“Ha! I knew it!” The Clown cracks up. “Were you dreaming about it during your date?” he teases more.

“We’re not on a date,” you frown at the blood gushing from his wound.

“Interesting,” J expands on the subject. “At least you two have one thing in common: you’re both delusional.”

Frost rolls his eyes without J noticing and you signal him:

“Can I please get the whiskey? I need to disinfect this.”

“You have whiskey on your date?! Excuse me, non-date,” his majesty’s obnoxious temper emerges again.

You don’t engage for the moment, just open the bottle that Jonny gave you and splash a generous amount on the laceration.

“Jesus Christ!!!” The King shouts. “Be gentle woman, I’m fragile!!!”

“Sorry Mister J,” you mutter and Frost is certainly approving your tiny revenge scheme. “Can you please turn on the lights on your car? It’s getting dark and I can’t see what I’m doing,” you address The Joker’s sidekick. “Do you have a first aid kit in your vehicle Mister J?” you gesture towards his SUV parked a few feet away.

“I should,” a demented smirk flourished on his lips. “In the trunk!”

“Take a seat in the grass Mister J; I’ll go get it,” you urge the patient.

“Boss, are you sure you don’t want me to take you to the doctor?” Frost offers and instead of obliging your request, J pursues your steps because he doesn’t want to miss Turbo’s reaction.

“It’s fine, I’ll survive until morning time.”

You lift the trunk and gasp, stunned: your stellar ex-husband is tied up in there, duct tape over his mouth, clearly enjoying the repercussions of a confrontation due to bruises you can discern at a first glance.

“Oops, forgot about him,” The Clown yawns, bored.

Adam starts wiggling and mumbling whilst you can’t react.

“The fucker shot me!” your employer hisses. “Had the nerve to try killing me when he’s the one sleeping with MY girlfriend!”

“What’s the plan, sir?” Jonny intervenes, worried at your stunned attitude.

“The plan is simple: since Y/N is intimately acquainted with our guest, I’m willing to work out a deal. I don’t wanna to be accused of not listening to my associates.”

Adam keeps struggling and you finally reach and remove the duct tape.

“Honey, honey please!” he immediately rambles on, panicked. “You know I was joking about your weight, right? You don’t have to lose a few pounds! I admit locking you up in the basement was a huge mistake, ok? OK…? I’m sorry! I swear I’ll never cheat on you in the future. We can work things out, can’t we?” a glimmer of hope alleviates the somber perspective of his imminent demise once you begin searching his pockets.

He has the false impression you’ll untie him when in the matter of fact you are hunting down for his house keys so you can reclaim all the items you bribed him with when he signed the divorce papers.

Bingo! Treasure attained.

“So do you know him or not?” The Joker taps his fingers on the cold metal of his gun.

You take a deep breath, place the duct tape on Adam’s lips and sneer:

“I never saw this asshole in my life!”

“The lady has spoken!” J slams the trunk, unnerved. “Frost, you can go home; Y/N will take me to the warehouse on 8th street: she can borrow a car from there and split. I’ll send someone in the morning to bring it back.”

“Boss, we can leave your SUV here and I can drive you both…”

“DID I STUTTER?” The Clown growls, unhappy with Jonny’s shenanigans.

“No sir.”

“Mister J,” you distract his menacing temper. “Do you want me to bandage your injury now?”

“Nah, you can do it at the warehouse.”

More fireworks illuminate the skies and none in the small group is watching them anymore: the show is over for everyone involved.

You wave at Frost and hop in The Joker’s car as he positions himself in the passenger’s seat; you can tell something is off, besides the obvious of course.

If you’d have to speculate, you would say that his behavior is of a man who wasn’t hurt just physically, but on a different level he doesn’t understand yet: J went after your ex-husband alone when he doesn’t take unnecessary risks; enough proof to indicate he loved Ella and sought revenge for her betrayal without any of his team’s help.

You wonder what he did to the woman: did he kill her? Or worse?... You won’t dig to find out regardless.

The truth is you are The Joker’s Turbo and the statement works in reverse too: he is your Joker who undeniably needs cheering.

And you always deliver. That’s why you’re his.

That’s why you appreciate he made an effort to compromise on Adam’s predicament even if he didn’t mean it.

You steadily drive on the trail until you arrive to the main road, then suddenly accelerate with a specific purpose in mind. You take a sharp turn on Morrison Avenue, already at 100 miles per hour.

“What are you doing?” J bitterly enunciates.

“Why am I your Ghost Driver Mister Joker?” you reply with a question.

“Nobody can catch up with you.”

“Yup, the car to catch up with me hasn’t been assembled. Here they are, Gotham’s finest!” Y/N boasts at the lights glistening behind. “They always have a nightly patrol on Morrison Avenue ready to catch law un-abiding citizens,” you exclaim and J’s smirk widens at your proposition. “What do you say we make them work for their donuts, hm?”

“That’s my girl!” The King gives his blessing while Turbo speeds up the street in a frenzy.

************

11:58 pm

You barely returned to you apartment after the random factors which cut your rendezvous short when the cell chimes: a message from Frost.

“Did you make it home safe?”

“Yes,” you text.

“I’ve been busy. Wait, I’ll send you a picture.”

Downloading picture…

“Holy… shit!!!!!” you yell at your phone because the image depicts a portrait of a freshly shaved Jonny Frost.

“Do you like it?” the sentence appears on the screen concomitant with a knock at the main entrance.

“Who is it?” you drag your feet on the carpet.

“Me.”

As soon as you are standing in front of him, Frost hides his nervousness the best way he can; and he’s not a nervous individual per se.

“I thought you might want to take a closer look…,” he enters the hallway and you slowly lock the door behind him.

You don’t say anything, just touch his face and he pecks your wrist, confessing a secret he kept bottled up for years:

“Do you know I’ve been in love with you from the first second I saw you?”

Y/N doesn’t have to calculate in order to whisper:

“That’s a long time.”

“What’s the verdict?...“ Jonny insists. “You approve the change?”

“Yes,” you kiss him and he holds you tighter, thinking that if he could spend ages in your arms, it would be an eternity well spent.

 Also read: MASTERLIST

You can also follow me on Wattpad and Ao3 under the same blog name: DiYunho.

[melvillaa]

An Ode to 2020

Not really sure why I’m awake right now. If this was pre-marriage, I would have taken out my laptop to start typing, but it’s not and Bri is knocked tf out, so here we are. I guess this is the ode to 2020 post that I’ve been meaning to annotate for a while now.

This has been the most transformative year of my life. So many changes in more ways than one. Way more ways. Try like 20. A lot of crying (which I never do.... or maybe i just don’t admit to, lmao), a lot of introspection, a lot of uncomfortability (is that a word?), and a lot of change. A whole lot.

The year started off with optimism and ended with the same notion. Full of hope and wonder for the year set before me, I couldn’t wait for 2020 - it was supposed to be the year all my dreams came true.. and in a weird way, it was! It was the year I got married to the love of my life(!!!!!!), reached 5 years at my corporate job, relocated to a new home in a new city and area code. It was all that - but it wouldn’t be my life if it wasn’t that, plus a little pizzazz, lol.

It’s hard for me to give myself grace. Truly I think I am the hardest on myself. Always empathetic of others and their experiences, but always giving myself the short end of the stick. Living in a pandemic has been wild - but living through my huge life changes in the middle of a pandemic has proven to be even more wild. As a person who doesn’t necessarily love change, I’ve struggled to give myself grace in the midst of the huge life changes I’ve experienced. I’m damn proud of how far I’ve come and how strong I’ve been to withstand the trials that I battle without me really saying a word to a single soul. As a person, me typing this stuff out is me telling the world my story - even if no one reads it. This year changed my life.

Marriage.

I became a wife and entered the covenant of marriage. It really is true that you enter into a marital bliss that is full of love you don’t experience until you get married. It’s unlocking a next level of your relationship and discovering a new version of yourself ... yourself plus another human. There really are different levels of love that you are surprised to find out that you are capable of. It’s different than just being in a relationship with one another. Now we’re bound to each other under a different covenant - before the eyes of God, our family, our friends and the law. It’s weird filling out paperwork and realizing that legally I am no longer a Villaflor. Well technically I’ll always be a Villaflor (Melanie Rose Villaflor Argamaso to be exact, okurrrttttt). I stepped into this role of being a wife and all the “responsibilities” that came with it and also fully embraced the fact that I have a person to do life with who loves me more than himself, who is always thinking of me, always taking care of me, always looking out for me, and who genuinely takes responsibility for me. It’s weird. It’s things I knew of during our relationship, but in marriage it’s somehow personified.. magnified. Marriage is so cool. Maybe it’s cool for me because there’s been such an emphasis and importance placed on it ever since I was a little girl. Bri and I didn’t have the “modern relationship” where we lived together prior to marriage. Yea we slept over and had our own respective places, but to really enter into marriage where everyday it’s me and you, and we have a whole ass home and life together is really wild. I love it. Doing life with Bri is me truly seeing that this man really would give me the world if I asked for it. Anything I could ever want or need, he fulfills it. Everyone always asks me what I’ve learned about him since we got married, or what’s something new about Bri that I’ve discovered ... one thing is that this man and his hobbies are unmatched, bro loves him some cars, any moving vehicle really, lmao. But mostly, I see his heart. He always wants the best - for me and for himself and anyone he cares about, sometimes to a fault when he can’t attain perfection but so badly wants to achieve it. But most times he can .. and then some. I’ve never met someone so naturally good at so many things. Tactically advanced, street smart as hell, a risk taker with the ability to fix just about anything, a people person with an infectious personality who could probably resell a piece of lint if he had to. We’re a family now. A little family of two but we’re both at a place where we really wouldn’t mind unlocking another level of love if it were time to. (He asks me for a “grey” from @greyandmama on IG almost weekly 🥺🥴😂).

Wedding.

It seemed like I waited so, so long for our wedding - for it to come and go like the wind. But instead of a nice sea breeze, it came and went like a tropical storm (... literally 😂but more on that later!) I remember being so excited on New Years Day at the start of 2020 ... the anticipation of our wedding in the next five months and really the start of all of our wedding festivities would begin within the next month ... or so I thought.

I remember hearing about the coronavirus making landfall in the US around the holidays in 2019 and it was already steadily spreading across the US, but not quite as widespread as it currently is. I was going on a work trip to Florida towards the end of January and I remember wearing a mask in the airport and on the flight and I conducted my usual Lysol-ing of my entire space. Everyone was looking at me like I was insane but I really didn’t care, haha. A flight attendant asked me why I was wearing a mask and I replied that I just wanted to stay healthy for my family. (...Still true, lol.) I had no idea at this moment how significantly the coronavirus was going to disrupt our world, how normal mask wearing would be, and how disinfectant wipes would soon be the most prized commodity in 21st century homes. 

February came like a rush - I started designing our wedding invitation suite which was something I had literally dreamed about. I had a vision from the very beginning and new exactly how I wanted everything to look down to the postage stamp. It reinforced a love for stationery design that I knew I had, but damn was I proud of the finished product. I was so meticulous about everything - from the fonts I used, the colors and hues of the paper, the thickness of the paper, the envelopes, the ink I used. It was so intricate, but it was the most fun I ever had while designing something. It didn’t feel like work at all, but it was pure love that I poured into those invitations. Bri’s bachelor party happened in early March and my bachelorette in Chicago (!!!) was supposed to happen at the end of March. The boys went to Jacksonville, Florida and were able to stay with Bri’s old roommate, Ace in his beautiful home. Coronavirus cases were on the upswing, especially in Florida and Atlanta. I was so freaked out. N95′s were no where to be found, but since Bri is a painter, he was able to score some through work. He wore one on the flight and literally got light headed due to lack of oxygen, lol. He had the time of his life in Florida while I poured my whole self into our invitations, lol. And as soon as the boys got back, the US started to shut down. 

Everyone began to work from home and businesses started closing up shop. Star couldn’t make it to my bachelorette, so she schemed her way into getting me to pole dance with all the girls, hahaha. It was literally the night before everything was supposed to shut down. No indoor dining or bars were going to be open at midnight the following Monday, so I was super thankful that I was able to have a mini bachelorette experience in our own little backyard.  

It was an anomaly to fly anywhere and airports became ghost towns. Each day we got a little closer to my bachelorette and myself and the girls were so excited. Itineraries were made, bickering ensued, flights were purchased, I bought outfits for every outing (... so much white, lol) Literally the only thing left for us to do was to actually fly to Chicago. Probably a week to a week and a half before we were supposed to fly out, Chicago issued a stay at home order and everything shut down. We had to make the difficult decision to cancel my bachelorette trip to Chicago and try to rebound and think of a plan B. The girls were so gracious. I’m so thankful for all the work they put in to try and make things work out for me. We tried to do a weekend trip to Ashville, NC but everything was so risky and there was so much unknown at this point. Covid mandates varied from state to state and things were quite literally changing by the day, the hour even. It just didn’t work out. Till this day I’m sad that I didn’t get to have the full bachelorette experience, but I’m still so, so thankfulI for my friends and the work that they put in to make everything feel as normal as possible. 

Home.

Careers.

Relationships.

Ok I’ll reflect on these things later. I’m sleepy, lol.

[lost-tanuki-tales]

Hostage Situation - Part 1

Prompt challenge (~48h) : Isolation, Hostage. Cast: The Disaster Five  Word count: 2.9k.

There was a camera. There was always that damn camera following him around, surveying his every move, that single implacable dark eye he couldn't escape from. Arkady didn't know if anyone was even watching him through there. He'd given it the finger about every hour just in case. The room was dirty, the cracks in the walls packed with old mud and mold. The smell was terrible and he was fairly certain it came from the mangy cot that was pressed against one of the more decrepit walls. There was a hole in the ground in the corner where he assumed he was supposed to relieve himself. Upon understanding that he wouldn't have a modicum of privacy for this, he'd whirled around to yell at the camera: "You're sick freaks!"

Of course, there had been no answer.

Arkady paced around the dingy room, fuming and grumbling under his breath, cursing himself and the others for not having seen this coming. They'd been hanging around in the same spot for too long, their ship must have been spotted and reported. Arkady remembered he'd seen a blurry reflection of a gray outfit behind him while he'd been outside polishing the last metal panels of the stock Leo had bought for the ship, and he hadn't turned around fast enough. Next thing he knew he was waking up on the floor as a long, skittering bug slithered over the back of his hand. He'd thrown it away with a shout of surprise and scrambled to his hands and knees, and only then had he noticed the situation he was in. Arkady hadn't been the only one at the ship at that time and chances were Leonida had been taken too. He wasn't sure about Grenelant.

Arkady didn't know what he was supposed to expect; interrogation could vary from a simple interview to torture, or maybe he was just being held in a cell until whoever had taken him decided what it was they wanted to do with him. This didn't seem like it would be a place linked with this planet's authorities, but maybe it was; they were a primitive population. No one came and Arkady spent the afternoon trying to kick at the cracks in the wall and the narrow metal door to no avail. There was no window to try and break through, either. They hadn't left him any weapons but at least he still had his watch. How long was he going to be kept here?

He looked up at the camera. "What do you want?"

No answer. Arkady cursed again, this time in the rough and blocky sounds of his native tongue, and he resumed pacing. He hoped Leonida would be okay. She was tough, tougher than him and Grenelant, so he knew he didn't need to worry too much. Arkady looked around and went over the room's faults again to try and discern a weakness to his cell. He didn't find any. At 3AM on the first day of his confinment, Arkady finally sat down against the cold, humid wall to wait for a new development.

The second and third day he spent trying to provoke the people behind the camera when it was clear that no amount of investigating would get him out of there. Food came twice a day through the flap at the bottom of the door and the only sound that ever accompanied it was that of footsteps. Arkady tried to get a rise out of whoever was behind that door in the beginning, and he asked about where the others were, but he never obtained an answer. He didn't even see so much as a shoe through that flap. It was just bread, water, and footsteps. No one ever came inside the room with him.

He'd been put in solitary before. The longest he'd had to do was five days. He could do this.

It hadn't exactly been a walk in the park the last time and it wasn't easier knowing he'd already gone through this before. Arkady tried to ignore the camera when he wasn't yelling curses at it. He didn't relieve himself for the first 21 hours and when he eventually had no other choice due to his painful bladder, he doubly flipped off the camera before turning around and unzipping his fly. He made sure never to face the black lens when he was urinating, bracing himself with an arm up against one of the walls in the corner, and that was enough to spare himself the shame- at first. It was an entirely different matter when he needed to defecate on the fourth day. There wasn't space to do it any other way and he was forced to crouch facing the camera, and even though he managed to cover up his front, he still felt like an animal. Humiliation burned at his nape.

Arkady decided he wasn't just going to sit there and wait for someone to show up if that meant he was letting some sick pervert watch him shit. He returned to investigating the room with renewed vigor and cracked several nails trying to rip and pull at the fissures in the wall. He punched and kicked hard enough to shake out some small pieces of mixed dust and gravel, but never enough to widen them. He began to feel helpless, and immediately on the rise of it felt a roaring anger that these maniacs thought they could keep him caged like some dumb fucking beast. He ragingly toppled the bed over to its side, revealing all manner of bugs and unsanitary forms of life beneath it, and then proceeded to alternatively hurl invectives at the camera and hit the walls. At the end of the day his throat was raw from screaming and blood was still drying at his fingertips.

He didn't know where Leo and Gren were. Maybe they weren't even there. Maybe they were already dead.

On the evening of the fifth day, Arkady refused the tray of food by violently kicking it backwards before it was halfway through the flap.

"Fuck you!" he yelled. "Fuck you, I'm not eating until you tell me what the hell's going on!"

There was no answer. Irritation flared in Arkady's chest when he saw the tray get pushed back in and he kicked it again, more of the already spilled water wetting the floor.

"Are you deaf? Tell me what the fuck you want from me!"

Nothing. The tray wasn't pushed back inside and the footsteps retreated, and Arkady was left standing behind the door with an overwhelming anger buzzing at his insides. He screamed in frustration and slammed his arm against the door.

He wasn't brought any food on the sixth and seventh day, probably as a punishment for his earlier refusal. He tried to calm down and center himself. If Gren and Leo needed help, he needed to keep it together for their sake; he'd need to look out for a chance to escape and he couldn't do that on an empty stomach. Arkady started trying a different approach to the person behind the tray of food when they came back with the same piece of bread and cup of water on the eighth morning. He kept his voice level as he tried to negociate answers, tried to come off as meek, tried to make them believe they'd somehow tamed him by depriving him of sustenance or that they'd at least convinced him to be more cooperative. But it was always the same silence. He'd never been very patient, even less in conditions such as the ones he was currently in, and he snapped again three more fruitless attempts at communication later.

"Come back, you motherfucker!" he snarled viciously through the flap in the door. "Fucking answer me!"

Fading footsteps, and Arkady only had his own hard breathing to listen to.

The days after that were spent in a tumultuous chaos of burning, crackling emotions that Arkady couldn't control. He unleashed a level of violence on the walls of his cell that he hadn't attained before, leaving bloody handprints on the wall where the skin of his knuckles gave way to bone, and he destroyed the dirty, stinking thing that was supposed to be his bed. He hadn't been sleeping much, the air was cold, the light was always on and he could feel writhing shapes beneath his body when he lied down. Arkady knew he'd been here for longer than he'd ever been put away in solitary before. He felt that the walls were gradually closing in, that the room was getting smaller every hour even if he knew rationally that it couldn't be the case. He was going stir crazy. He needed to be outside, had never been one to keep to the interior of the ship all day, never mind a space as small as this one.

Where the fuck were Leo and Gren? Were they dead? Had they just left him behind? Arkady knew he wasn't the most important asset to their team but Leonida wasn't the type to abandon anyone who still proved useful. She needed him. Grenelant couldn't do what Arkady did. It had to be that they either were in the same situation as him or just hadn't found him yet.

"Just talk to me! Fucking talk to me!" he screamed at the camera and at the foosteps, desperation tinging his voice despite his best efforts to hold onto his anger.

There was never any answer.

No one was coming.

Arkady tried to break the small flap at the base of the door multiple times, but it was sturdy and he was only flesh and bone against unyielding metal. Thick curses tumbled from his mouth each time a new nick appeared on the inside of his fingers, and in the end the only change that was brought to the flap were the deep rusty stains that lined its edge.

Arkady's heart started acting up in occasional palpitations that grew in frequency, and headaches began gathering at the center of his brain. He felt like the blood was pulsing much too fast in his veins, like his body was constantly in overdrive, and he wanted to bite at his wrists so it would stop. The food kept coming but the bread didn't taste like anything anymore. He needed more than the sound of his own angry voice. He needed someone to talk to him. He needed to see another person's face, he needed to see Leonida, where the fuck was Leonida?

Growing increasingly desperate each time he heard the footsteps, Arkady started pleading with them.

"Talk. Say anything, I don't care what it is, just fucking talk dammit."

They never did, and he'd scream and rage against the metal door as they walked away.

"Come back! Come back here and talk to me, you motherfucker!"

As soon as they were gone, Arkady would stop his screaming and slump back down to the cold, grimy floor.

He started having hallucinations sometimes around the middle of the- second? Third week? He wasn't sure. Days and nights tended to blend together now. He knew the camera could see him even if he covered himself when he needed to go to the hole. Sometimes he saw familiar shapes at the edges of his vision and his throat would seize up because he remembered what it had been like before. Other times Arkady looked down at his body and didn't recognize it. He stripped down without a second thought to check, only belatedly remembering there was a camera watching him and that they'd know. But they already did, anyway. Didn't they?

He couldn't sleep. He was going crazy.

He wasn't truly thinking that time when he started scratching at the walls in a wild frenzy, feeling trapped, trapped, trapped.

He stopped paying attention to the camera when he understood that the camera didn't matter. He'd also stopped looking at his watch sometime ago. The numbers were meaningless now.

Arkady sometimes could feel his ribs open up to let his pounding heart leap outside of his chest.

He traced the red outlines on the dirty walls with his fingers, and the scars that lined his skin, and it somehow soothed him when he usually couldn't stand looking at them.

At one point Arkady's breathing became shaky and it stayed that way. He didn't even know why it sounded so ragged all the time. The walls were always closing in. He sat next to the door and didn't move, occasionally rocking back and forth as he pressed his fingers to the irregular ridges of his skin. He'd get out eventually, right? They had to let him out eventually. They wouldn't keep him alive if they didn't need him. His throat kept catching on dry sobs and he hadn't cursed for days. There was no point to it anymore. Arkady wanted to hear a different voice than his own but listening to it sing an old Russian melody from his childhood was better than suffering the complete silence that crushed him when it stopped. The tune was scratchy and often slipped off-key, but at least it was noise. At least it was noise.

The door slammed open and Arkady's head jerked up, his heart skipping a beat at the crash of metal against concrete. His brain didn't catch up to what was happening until he was already being hauled upright with his wrists bound by a featureless and humanoid person, their face hidden behind smooth gray headgear.

"Wh-What- Where are you taking me?" stammered Arkady. His voice was wretched.

They didn't answer and Arkady felt a pit in his stomach that they'd do this to him even now. He stumbled in the corridor as he was pushed forward, his legs protesting against the sudden movements after such long disuse, and the individual dragged him along without a second glance. Arkady did his best not to trip and fall face first on the floor. He still couldn't control his breathing. They moved through long narrow corridor after long narrow corridor, all of them musty and dim. Arkady couldn't see shit after spending so long in that single, constantly lit cell. They took several turns in silence and stepped inside another room that was bigger than Arkady's cell, and his eyes widened in a reflection of Leonida's expression.

His mouth fell open in shock and he whispered in a still unstable voice: "Wh... What did they do to you?"

She went to answer, her jaw shifting beneath the bruises that littered her face, but one of the individuals plunged their hand in the hole that had been pried open in the synthetic section of her chest and Arkady cried out in horror when he saw the brutal way in which they were handling her.

"No, stop!"

Leonida's face was constricted and Arkady lunged forward to stop the torture, but a strong, bruising grip around his arm forced him to stay where he stood. He snarled out a curse with renewed vigor in the face of his captain's distress and kicked out behind him. It earned him a solid blow to the back of his already pounding head and he slumped, ears ringing in harmony with Leonida's low groans. He'd wanted to hear her voice, but not like this. Now he just wanted it to stop.

"Look at him," spoke a guttural voice from behind Arkady. "He has little fight left in him. He's waited for you two weeks, how much longer do you think he will last?"

The words were like a blow to Arkady's gut. Two weeks? He'd only been in there for two weeks? Arkady lifted a wild gaze to Leonida. She'd found him in two weeks, Grenelant was nowhere to be seen, that had to mean something. Did she have a plan? Was Gren waiting somewhere outside for her signal?

Despite the strained furrow of her brow, Leonida's brown eyes were trained on Arkady and it looked like she was trying to tell him that they'd make it out somehow. Arkady believed her. He had to believe her. Their captor was right; Arkady wasn't sure if he could handle much more of that terribly silent captivity, whether physically or mentally. He felt weak even with adrenaline coursing through his veins and Arkady remembered that even though they hadn't exactly let him go hungry, two pieces of bread per day made a pretty crappy diet.

"You can be repaired, monstrosity that you are," continued the deep voice. "He will soon fall into insanity and there will be no easy way to fix that. Tell us."

Leonida teared her gaze away from Arkady to look up at the person behind him. Her jaw clenched and she curtly shook her head in refusal.

Their captor was silent for a bit, and then said: "That is unfortunate." Arkady was manhandled back to an upright position and forced to look at his captor's featureless mask. "Maybe simple isolation is not enough."

Arkady realized with a jolt of dread when his captor started pulling him away that he was going to be put back in that cell, alone, for longer, and in worse conditions.

"No," he murmured. "No, wait, not again, no-" His voice faltered when they tugged on his bound wrists but he frantically shook his head, and he looked over his shoulder to call out to his captain. "Leonida! What do they want? Leonida! Leonida!"

But they were twisting and pulling at her delicate components now and her head was bowed, long blonde bangs hiding her face, shoulders tense, and Arkady was dragged away despite his struggling and broken yelling. Neither of them were going to see or hear each other again for some time.

(The Disaster Five are also on AO3.)

[yellingmetatron]

The Light in Heaven

So.

Well.

Something like two freaking years ago, or thereabout, I told @kissofmistletoe I was writing a little character study about Metatron and Baldr.  Various things took up my time, I had difficulty getting into a desired headspace, and this little character study never materialized-- until now.  It’s short and it’s not beta’d but I think that it does what I set out to do, and again, it’s been something like two years. So, to @kissofmistletoe: Sorry for the wait, and I hope it’s at least somewhat entertaining.  Hope other people enjoy it, too.

----

Metatron has always enjoyed watching people.  It’s a good thing, considering his purpose, and especially considering he has so many other inclinations that seem at odds with that purpose.  But life can’t be all torment, even for an archangel.

There’s something about perceiving a person, recognizing them as another self that Metatron finds… what’s best word?  Enrapturing, enthralling, intoxicating?  None of those words seem to speak very well of the person being enraptured, enthralled, or intoxicated.  All of them imply loss of control, and Metatron hates not being in control, especially when the matter is self-control.

Metatron often hates things he thinks he shouldn’t want.  Often, but not always.

Baldr wanders the wildlands of the Shamayim, Heaven, like a native.  The geography of Heaven is much like the geography of the Levant, but as it was before so many empires demanded their tithes of lumber for ships and incense.  Aromatic cedars stretch tall and wide all across the mountains, boughs covered in snow.  In the valleys between the mountains, ice-cold rivers run into the eternal sea of Heaven that stretches quite literally into infinity.  Baldr has told Metatron before that he was pleasantly surprised by Heaven.  He had feared it would be a dead, white place.  Metatron had managed not to be offended, at least not by Baldr.

How do humans keep getting things so wrong?

Metatron watches Baldr. The god had seen the sun rise over the mountains, and expressed a desire to take in the winter sun.  Metatron had told him of course he could, and he didn’t need to ask: He was an ambassador, not a prisoner.  Baldr mused there was overlap in those categories; after all, his presence must be accounted for, his movements verified.  Metatron had told him nobody expected him to sit in his room all day and only come out for political discourse.  That sort of treatment was reserved for Sheol, not Shamayim.  Baldr had smiled, but then said that of course the most responsible thing he could do as a guest was to seek the approval of his host before adventuring.  He had tilted his head in innocent inquisitiveness; wasn’t he Metatron’s charge, for the time being?

They had gone on like that for a while, a kind of verbal play-fight that ended with Baldr on his back—as it were.  The kind of deference shown by someone who knows they’re going to get exactly what they want, and who knows a little show of submission can be a balm.  Baldr, fuck him, had worked out long ago that Metatron liked it when people were mindful of his authority.  So few of his siblings were, nowadays, and the lower choirs were only frightened, most of the time.  One of the humans, some Italian or another, had once said that love and fear could hardly exist together, and that if you had to choose, fear was the safer bet. But fear is lonelier than love. It’s lonelier even than simple respect. Well, Baldr gives Metatron respect, and as for the other thing—

--that doesn’t bear thinking about right now.  Baldr fits the landscape too well.  He shouldn’t; for one thing, he’s not wearing a fucking shirt, and it’s only just above freezing.  If he were a human, this would be a clear sign of madness or masochism.  But the incongruity somehow melts away in the image as a whole: A lone, golden figure, ankle-deep in snow, meandering the mountains with no purpose but pleasure in the cold and quiet.  The winter light seems to flow over Baldr’s skin like anointing oil, tarrying over the angles of his body, reluctant to leave him. Metatron has seen deer walk through the snow, lean in the winter yet somehow serene, patient for the Spring. As Baldr stops, turning around to see how far he’s climbed, chest rising as he breathes in cold air and the scent of snow and cedars, Metatron knows Baldr doesn’t need to be patient for Spring: Warmth and life are already inside of him, and will be always.

It's so fucking infuriating.

The archangel may as well be a statue as he watches.  His arms are folded in across his own broad chest, and his wings, six in this form, are stock still, not a feather out of place.  His expression is difficult to read; it could pass for either melancholy or irritation depending on the beholder.  He feels neither-- not exactly.  There are two feelings that come to mind, neither of which translate well to English nor Aramaic nor Hebrew.

Saudade.

Hiraeth.

But neither of them fit perfectly.  Both imply longing, a quiet-leaning-to-unquiet desperation for something lost or missing.  The former implies an unconquerable expectation, and that’s accurate enough but not complete.  The latter implies time and place specifically (he remembers old mountains that once were taller, he remembers lavish tents and smoke that smelled of incense and burnt offerings).  But what do you call a longing that isn’t quite?  How to you express an incomplete yearning?  Because however much he misses the past, he doesn’t want it back.  However much there is of an old god left within him, he wants to be an angel more.

Metatron remembers the Old Days, when he and his siblings were young and terrible.  He had a chance to challenge Haddad for kingship, and he vehemently refused it.  Strictly speaking, not much is stopping him from issuing a challenge now.  He has a duty to the One-As-Three, but it could be fulfilled in many ways.  His angelic brethren would be horrified, of course, but he knows for certain that a number of his Canaanite siblings hold a quiet conviction that Metatron—Malakhael, some still call him-- would make a better king than Haddad.  Not enough to agitate for it while it’s clear Metatron doesn’t want the job, not enough to plead with him to reconsider his loyalties, but…

Oh fucking cactus-sodomizing shit, now Baldr is lying down in an actual fucking snowbank.  And he looks so fucking pleased about it.  He’s luxuriating in the winter sun like a snow-leopard, not caring about the cold but only the light.  That sounds like some kind of stupid inspirational quote mortals would plaster on their dorm bedroom walls.  Something corporate-sponsored snowboarders would quip with a vapid grin.

The light that shines off snow can blind men and animals.  There’s a fucking quote for you.  But it’s nothing to gods and angels, and Baldr himself shines more brightly than anything else around him and oh fucking Sheol why is Metatron thinking like this?

Baldr still hasn’t gotten up from the snowbank.  Metatron wonders if he’ll doze off like that.  It’s not as if frostbite or hypothermia are a problem, and he’s angled so he’d be getting sun pretty much for the rest of the day.  For a Prince and state dignitary, it really doesn’t take much to make Baldr content.  Maybe he won’t even feel the need to get up at sundown; these past few nights have been clear and cold as glass, the moon and stars shining down with rare intensity.  It’s because of Baldr, Metatron is sure; light celebrating its ultimate source.

Mortals sometimes have difficulty wrapping their heads around the fact that more than one divinity can be the ultimate source of anything, that two or more celestials can personify the same concept.  It doesn’t help that it’s hard to explain it in a way they can understand, some answer limited to four dimensions.  Metatron’s go-to answer is “What’s infinity plus infinity?” which has the benefit of being no answer at all.  It almost works, and sometimes almost is enough.  Most people manage to be quite content with almost.

Metatron and Baldr are both beings of truth and light.  They are more than that, they transcend that-- and they are not the same entity.  There is more to each of them.  And yet somewhere, deep in Metatron’s sephirah, there is something that makes no distinction between himself and the godling.  The phrase “kindred spirit” is used carelessly by mortals who don’t understand the depths of those words taken together— certain saints and poets being an exception.  The highest level of self-awareness most mortals attain is the ability to look in a mirror and know, That’s me.  Gods and angels don’t have the luxury of leaving things at that.  An archangel must be careful when looking into certain gods’ eyes, because in an instant they may recognize something even deeper than mere surface-self.  Two sets of eyes can lock, and suddenly the line between I and Thou becomes dangerously blurred.

And oh, we must be careful of that.  It’s such a sweet poison, like wine and mead.  Two selves lost to each other.  Quintessence seeing itself, shattering any illusion of division.  All light is light; all truth is truth.

It would be so easy to leave the illusion of a lone ego behind.

But what would one come back to, when one is no longer one?

Metatron discovers that unthinkingly, he has managed to turn away from Baldr and his light.  Now his expression is recognizably melancholic.  Letting a feeling besides anger make it all the way to his face is an indulgence, but he needs some kind of outlet, and anyone no-one’s around to see.  He walks back into his library proper from the loggia from which he had watched his guest.   It’s well-lit, lamps burning with the clean light of Heaven, and yet it seems undeniably dimmer.  As he walks down the porphyry-columned hall, past the cyclopean bookshelves, under dome and arch, Metatron feels lonely—but only briefly.

Pining, still? Comes Sandalphon’s voice in his mind. The question would be intolerable from anyone else, but this is his sister, so it makes him smile a little instead. She’s not here physically—so much work of her own to do—but they’re never really apart.

I will concede that I am, he replies.  He stops a moment, and suddenly the hall isn’t a hall, it’s a reading room—there are still porphyry columns, of course.  One has standards.  Though I couldn’t tell you for… what, exactly.  He reminds me of so many things, achoti.

Its been a long time since you’ve had much traffic with elohim outside of the family, Sandalphon notes. And then suddenly she is present physically, reclining on a sofa by the window, wings tucked neatly behind her. Metatron sits on a perpendicular sofa. Mediterranean seating arrangements used to be much easier for people with wings, and in Heaven there’s no need to discard useful fashions.

“Don’t see family having much to do with it,” Metatron says.  “As making much difference one way or another, I mean.  I get fucking moody when I have to talk to Haddad, too.”

“But not moody like this, achi.  You’re used to Haddad.  He doesn’t make you so… nostalgic.  Not the best word, I know, but it will do.”  She smiles, a little sadly.  “You’re so used to each other.  When you look at each other, you don’t think eloah or angel, you both think brother.”

“I have dealt with foreign elohim before,” Metatron says a little more impatiently than he intends—but of course Sandalphon knows his heart, and takes no offense.  “None of them… did this to me.  It’s like…” he sighs, running a hand through snow-white hair. “It’s not just that he’s an eloah.”

“It’s the kind of eloah he is,” Sandalphon says.  “I understand.  But I do think the intensity of your feelings is due to how novel all this is.  It’s been so long, achi.  So long since you’ve had anyone but me to be so close to.”

“I have my subordinates,” Metatron says wryly.  “And hey, who needs more fucking company than people who are all kind of terrified of you?”

They are silent together for a time.  The sun of the Shamayim sinks a little lower, and the shadows of the bookshelves move with it.  The moon is barely visible, a ghost against the blue.  Metatron at last breaks the silence.

“Am I worrying you, achoti?”

“Always, Metatron,” Sandaphon laughs, “I’m your sister, that’s my prerogative.  You’re much more fun to worry about than anything else.”  He smiles crookedly in return.

“I promise I won’t… withdraw from this,” he says, “Because I know that’s the big fucking worry.  I can handle having feelings, Sandalphon.  Just a little out of practice.”

They stand and embrace. Metatron realizes it’s been a few months since they last hugged.  He squeezes his sister tight, and when the separate she gently punches his shoulder.

“Just remember,” she tells him, “I won’t have anyone treating my twin worse than he deserves to be treated, and that includes you.  If you need to talk, about this eloah or anything else, come to me.  Everything’s easier together.”

And then she’s gone, but not really.  They’re never really apart.

Metatron smiles softly, and looks out the window.  He can see Baldr from here—really, he could see him from anywhere in his palace-library. The young god is wandering leisurely back towards palace, still fucking shirtless.  Really, that’s insufferable.  The dimming light is just as flattering.  And worst of all, his expression is one of perfect contentment.  He’s had a good day.  He’s thoroughly enjoyed his time here, in this place that Metatron rules.  He’s probably going to make irritatingly excellent conversation tonight, especially over wine.  Metatron’s going to have to deal with so much sass.

The angel’s hand goes to his chest thoughtlessly.  His sephirah feels warm.

He allows himself a brief, sweet awareness that it’s not so different from a flesh-and-blood heart.

[kangseluigi]

ANOTHER personal post bc I deleted my facebook since no one reads that shit anyway and I need to let it out somewhere so THERE

I am…deeply damaged, by many things, but especially by my first “real” fandom???

Like, yea, I was hardcore into like Sailor Moon and Pokemon and Britney and shit as a kid, but that doesn’t really count for me. The first real fandom to me, was the first one I really spent my own money on, on merch, concerts etc. The one I was pushed into bc a “friend” tried to use it to exclude me from her talks with her best friend, so I had to learn it all v quickly to keep up with them and not be excluded every. single. time we spent time together. Her friend was cool with me and just focussed on topics we could all talk about or would explain things I didn’t get, but the other one, wow.

And now that I’m saying it, I realise how much deeper it goes than i realised.

I learned all that cryptic shit about the band within days and learned every song, which album it’s on, downloaded a whole bunch of pictures and forced myself to become obsessed within a week or less, just so I could join their talks. Of course that didn’t help me, because she only became annoyed with that and ended up mocking me for being too obsessed and all kinds of shit, or would change the topic to another thing I wasn’t involved in, like their shared trip to Paris, which I would never be able to catch up on.

And nowadays, I sill have a habit of forcing myself to “learn” fandoms in days and after 24-36 hours of obsessing (sometimes with a little pre-game/getting to know phase these days though) I just become so fuckin burned out I cannot enjoy it for at least another full day, sometimes a week or anywhere in between. It sucks.

But the whole situation, having been forced into it only to be ridiculed again, ended up pushing me even deeper into that fandom, because I guess, in the beginning, I thought if I love it enough, it will get me accepted as a real fan, but of course things only got worse. More people thought i had lost it for being that obsessed with the band, having no other topic anymore. On the other hand, the band had all these messages of their fans being their family and connection and whatnot. The kind of bullshit that a teenager with abuse at home and angry/overworked/stressed/… parents with no time for anyone would absolutely run into to feel a little taste of family and comfort.

It completely spiralled out of control. I was existing only for that stupid fucking band. I was existing entirely online and for the times I could go back online to talk in chat groups and message boards and whatever the fuck it was we had back then, to talk to other fans, some of whom actually became my friends, and stalk the shit out of that band. Any and every update had to be documented and I had to know it. Every picture, no matter how intimate. The shit I had found out about the band in the end was unhealthy! Pictures buried so deep in the web, because they were so personal, not even the most deranged fans would dare re-post them, but I ended up saving them just to be safe, just to have something. I honestly disgusted myself at that point, but I couldn’t stop, somehow. And I still find it gross, but I also know I was maybe 17 at the time I went that far out. My dad had just died, I was grieving, I was lonely more than anything, I felt like the only actual family who had still cared about me was gone, I needed something to hold on to and went into all the wrong directions.

But despite all the deeply intimate things I knew by then, there was one big issue I had somehow managed to keep missing, until they released a video for a song that upset me on such a deeply subconscious level, that I didn’t even know why, until it built up enough to cause my first real flashback.

There was a lot of drama about it within the fandom. A few of us who actually were triggered through the video into reliving our most traumatic moment, while everyone else still praised the shit out of them and told us we were just horrible for implying anything.

We didn’t imply anything. We just said we had a hard time dealing with it. But that didn’t stop threats of violence and death, even from people I was friends with until that point.

But amongst all that, one of the friends, who had already left the fandom to the most part at that point, told me the one big thing I had kept missing: The lead singer is a rapist. He especially goes for underage girls, but ultimately, it’s all the same.

There were enough stories about it out there and even if I think one or two may be made up—oddly enough the favourable ones seem the most unlikely—I think with that amount of stories, including things my friend has seen herself, it’s pretty evident that it has happened. And once that veil was lifted, I could see it. Maybe it’s my imagination, but some signs have always been there, and many people have said the same to me over time, some who knew, and some who didn’t. But that look is there, and cannot be trusted.

This whole thing just messed with me. It messed hard with me then. I had my trauma before, but I had had it well-repressed and buried so deep in my psyche only bits and pieces came bleeding through in the weirdest ways. Not enough for anyone to notice and only for me to occasionally wonder why I’m always returning to this specific topic. (Shit, I still have the hardest time using the term, especially when applied to me…) But now I also had flashbacks, and the knowledge that for the second time now, someone I thought I loved and thought—for some reason—loved me (In a way), was actually this kind of asshole, was a goddamn rapist, and had deceived me so horribly, only for me to go through the pain and trauma all over again.

I’m still thankful I had LInkin Park at the time, to be honest. I know y’all love to make fun of them, but they were there when I was bullied at 12-13 years old and felt all alone in the world, just when “Numb” came out. Translating their lyrics is how I learned english and at that point, Chester screaming in my ears alone, was often the one thing able to keep me from dissociating every 5 minutes, but moreover, he was screaming about the exact trauma that had come to the surface, that I wasn’t equipped to handle in any way, and I just knew I wasn’t alone with it, I knew he understood. It was a little comfort keeping me from losing it entirely, and it gave me some hope that if he could make it through the same bullshit and come out on top, I could, too. Of course, a few years ago that hope got shattered, but that’s another story.

The thing about this whole experience though, is that I still suffer from it. Not only can I still not look at that shitbag’s face without rage and sickness and pain—although it’s getting easier, not that I’m trying to look at him, but he’s unavoidable these days, fucking horrible. I can never listen to their songs again, not that I want to. Even karaoke versions or covers make me run out the room with massive panic attacks. Especially the songs from the same album as the song that triggered it all. The last time someone covered their song at an event I was at, I nearly threw myself off the balcony in the hotel lobby as I was trying to get away from it, because I was that terrified and in that much pain from hearing the first line alone.

And thinking about it, maybe that’s why I no longer go to events. I told myself it was finances, but i just don’t wanna run into that again. Ever. I’m so, so thankful the same friend who had informed me of it all back then was standing by on twitter to talk to me. Typing and reading is good to get your head out of it. It’s a mental and physical sensation and forces you to think of something else, even if it’s only spelling, and I could talk to her to calm tf down.

But mostly, I’m thinking about the very, very deep sitting trust Issues towards famous people and fandom I have developed through all of it. Up to this day, I cannot trust anyone who is famous. Riches being bitches is one problem, an intellectual one for me, mostly, but this is something else.

As soon as I see someone enjoying their fame—especially white men—I get suspicious, because it’s so much like him. What if they too are like him? What if they too only want fame to attain girls they can violate? What if? How could I allow myself to like someone like that ever again? How can I allow myself to fall for this stunt again? I can’t. That’s it. I see you enjoying your fame, I cannot trust you, to protect myself, if nothing else. To not accidentally promote someone who’d do those things. To not accidentally promote them to someone, who’s led right into the trap and has to endure what so many others already had to endure, what I had to endure, even if in my case it wasn’t even a famous person.

So I shy away from anyone who seems a little too “Type-A” or too joyful about their status as celebrity or… too talented, too inhuman. I don’t even know. A lot of it comes down to the eyes, and sometimes I’m definitely right, but in some cases even I am not sure if I see it, or if I’m just scared I don’t see it when I should. (Does that make sense to you?)

On the other hand, sometimes I am certain I don’t see it, and my brain goes into overdrive, running around in circles. We don’t see it, so does that mean it’s not there, or that they are that good at deceiving us? We’ve been deceived before, we failed to see it before, who says we won’t fail this time? Do we see it now? Maybe we only think we see it because we are scared and a little paranoid. But maybe-

it’s a never-ending circle. (Kind of the definition of a circle, isn’t it?)

Every time I see a famous person I want to trust be so visibly human, and warm, or shy, and just likeable, I trust them a little more, and want to trust them a little more, and that is exactly what makes the alarm bells go off in my brain! it’s ridiculous.

Yet, every time I see the same person interact with, say, a child, I freak the hell out.

This is not normal in any way, and it cannot be, and it shouldn’t be, I shouldn’t constantly be afraid of what thoughts some adult man has towards children, literal gd toddlers in frilly dresses. I cannot keep thinking that being nice to a toddler has an ulterior motive, because it’s wrecking me the hell up! Yet here I am, unable to shake those thoughts and I don’t know what to do about it, or how to feel about myself. I was angry at myself a lot today, partly because of that. But I’ve also been deeply depressed lately, partly because so much of my actual trauma came up again and again, and now it’s not going away. I cannot even listen to remix versions of that one Lady Gaga song the band once covered, because it all brings me back (and How very shitty for a rapist to cover a song by a rape survivor too). Even worse, because that song is in my workout game.

I don’t want to have to think about all this all the time anymore, I don’t want my brain to constantly suspect the worst in people, but I cannot fucking shake it off.

I know I’m getting better, generally. I know I’m breaking through some of my fears and all, but I also know I may never be ready to actually speak about this topic with another soul. Therapist or not, no one will ever achieve the level of trust I need to open up about this the slightest bit. If someone were to approach the topic (to talk about me, not themselves, that is), I’d shoot them down. I may actually fall into a panic attack and punch them and run away I don’t know. But this conversation is not going to happen, ever. So I really don’t know how to fix it, except keep fixing myself, but I just don’t know if I can this time.

[snicketsleuth]

Slackin’ with the Sleuth: reviewing Netflix’s “The Vile Village”

After two sluggish double-episodes, we are now headed to the three best two-parters of the second season, nay, of the entire show until now. Today, we’re going to talk about direction. “A Series of Unfortunate Events” has suffered not only from being overwritten, but also from being under-directed.  Not an unfortunate consequence of the original writer being involved in the production of the television series, but rather of the other writers not controlling him enough. Episodes written by Daniel Handler get a bad rep amongst the fandom, but from their structure it’s pretty clear that he was more than willing to change his own outlines and listen to the contributions of other people. That being said, it’s hard to criticize the guy who came up with the work you’re supposed to adapt. Which is why episodes written by other people and peer-reviewed by Handler tend to fare better, as his role is to remind everyone of what made the story so successful in the first place.

We’ll see how this contributed to the improvement in direction in the latter half of Season 2. Most of it comes from the production team finally treating the series not only as an adaptation, but also as its own cinematic work. Let’s determine why below the cut.

DISCLAIMER (NOTHING TO DO WITH THE REVIEW):

I missed you guys, it’s been a while.

I apologize for abandoning the blog for so long, to the point that some of you people started worrying about me. I do appreciate the concern, so thank you. Most of my absence can simply be explained away by the many hours I’ve had to put into my day job. This has led to difficult choices regarding my hobbies and extra-work activities, writing for this blog being one of them. Truth be told, I don’t feel this blog fulfils as interesting a purpose as it did before. I’ve already talked about most book theories I cared about, and the books have been discussed to death at that point. As to other types of analyses, there are plenty of talented people on Tumblr who do it as well as me, so I didn’t feel the need to add much to the debate. But I’ve had time to think about plenty of Snicket-related topics during my absence, so no, the blog isn’t dead, just… much less active as it was a few years back. Stay tuned for more, my love for the books and their associated material is very much alive and kicking.

With all due respect (and affection) for our community, your duly devoted Sleuth.

This is the most atmospheric episode to date, and a beautiful one at that. While episodes of the first season certainly had their ambiance, most of it came from the introduction of new musical themes. The second season tries to bring the direction to the next level by fashioning each double-episode after a certain genre, which influences the entire aesthetic of the piece from its writing, colors and camera work. This is perfectly in line with the tone of the original series: each book focuses on a vivid and peculiar location which becomes a character in and of itself, and also parodies specific literary tropes. In keeping with this tradition, the televised version of  “The Austere Academy” mocks coming-of-age teen movies, “The Erstaz Elevator” has shades of musical romantic comedies from Hollywood’s Golden Age, “The Vile Village” pays homage to Westerns, “The Hostile Hospital” is a straight-up horror exploitation flick and “The Carnivorous Carnival” is a neo-expressionist drama. Or rather that’s what we were supposed to infer. In reality, “The Austere Academy” and “The Erstaz Elevator” don’t have anything special in terms of direction to truly allude to their models, and while “The Carnivorous Carnivale” is a blatant remake of “Freaks”, so was the book in the first place. Only with “The Vile Village” and “The Hostile Hospital” do we see the direction add a substantial commentary on the original aesthetic of their respective book. So while the intention is laudable, the execution is somewhat lacking as far as the entire season is concerned. More on that in the next review.

But for now let’s just gush over the gorgeous visuals of “The Vile Village”. Westerns describe the struggle of civilization in a lawless territory, a perfect setting for the crux of a book concerned with legality and mob psychology. While the introduction of the Nevermore tree leaves something to be desired, we do eventually get some fantastic shots. The integration of the CGI and the digital matte paintings significantly improves from this episode on, although whether the artificiality of previous episodes was an intentional choice from the directors is anyone’s guess. The scene of Hector’s first flight aboard the self-sustaining mobile home is a work of beauty. One must regret his line about crows being too “scary”, though. Not only is this an unnecessary change to his character (he is fascinated by the crows in the book), it doesn’t even make sense as the adaptation does not portray Hector as being scared of crows in any shape or form otherwise. He actually has a line about admiring them in the first part of the episode! What on Earth were the writers thinking?

The feels of Western movies is well-rendered, with an impressive focus or lighting. What the director seems to have forgotten is how dusty the Village of Fowl Devotees should look. This is pretty unforgivable given that the book insists on the unbearable feeling of dirtiness which permeates the town. There’s an egregious continuity error where the Baudelaire orphans escape from prison in a massive cloud of debris… then come into the next shot with immaculate clothing. This is a major sin as far as immersion goes.

Another blatant directorial choice is the tendency to film scenes across a two-dimensional space, with characters moving from one side of the screen to the next. This ever-present horizontal axis gives the series a somewhat stiff aspect, with characters not being able to express themselves in a dynamic body language in action scene. There are two possible reasons for this camerawork. Firstly, it makes certain scenes easier to follow (we must not forget that the series is expected to remain watchable for small children), although a little boring on the visual side. Secondly, it does imitate the format of a theater stage, and the theater world plays an important role in Snicket’s world, from “The Marvelous Marriage” to “La Forza del Destino”. I do think the showrunners went a little too far in this direction, though. If they’re so deadest on reproducing the feel of a theater production, maybe they should just pitch the series as a Broadway show rather than a television series. The chase sequences in this double-episode look more like a Street Fighter screen than a cinematic production.

But by far the greatest contribution of this episode is the merciful introduction of SILENCE. What a relief to hear the godforsaken concertina shut up for one minute and let us enjoy the dialogue! The heart of the double-episode comes from the back-and-forth dynamic between Jacques and Olaf (or, to a lesser extent, Esmé and Olivia). Truly a battle between blind, hopeful idealism and cynical nihilism. Major props to Nathan Fillion, who remains possibly the best actor in the entire series, and Neil Patrick Harris who should ruin the seriousness of the scenes with his constant bebopping but somehow doesn’t.

This however comes as the expanse of the Baudelaire orphans themselves, whose presence is somewhat secondary in this episode. The symbolism of them escaping the town in a fire truck is a strike of genius… but the Isadora couplet subplot is drastically skipped over and the unnecessary introduction of Mr Poe drastically reduces their screentime. It’s more forgivable than in “The Erstaz Elevator” as most scenes between the adult characters do help move the plot forward and provide interesting information, but it’s still one of our major criticisms for this season. The writers are clearly infatuated with the adult actors, which hurts the pacing of the story. It’s a shame as the child actors’ acting shows major improvements in the second season. Louis Hynes comes into his own in the prison scene, but the breakneck speed of the scene’s direction does not leave him enough room to grow. We will however concede that Jacquelyn and Larry don’t overstay their welcome in this episode, and that Jacques and Olivia’s romance is sweet to look at. While we disagree with the changes made to Olivia’s character on the whole (we’ll get to that in my review of “The Carnivorous Carnival”), it did produce some well-written, well-acted scenes. Less appreciated is the unnecessary and overstated introduction of a Violet/Duncan romance subplot… this is what happens when you base 90% of an adaptation on what admittedly amounts to fan-pandering. It’s sweet, then it’s sweeter, then you’ve got diabetes.

As far as character development goes, it’s pretty hit-or-miss. Esmé is as usual fantastic. The writers have managed to attain a difficult equilibrium regarding her character dynamic: she obeys enough not to overshadow him, but she also acts as her own antagonist, pursuing her own goals and betraying him if the need arises. The rest of the troupe also has an interesting dynamic with her and her integration in the crime family feels pretty seamless.

But so far we’ve saved the worst for the last paragraph, and as you’ve probably guessed, we’re going to have to speak about Hector. Gods almighty, what a waste of a perfectly good character. Josephine’s death was shot in a very disrespectful manner, but at least her character remained mostly the same. Here the Hector from the books, a tragic and heartbreaking portrayal of peer pressure and social anxiety, is reduced to a joke. To add insult to injury, it’s not even a funny joke: his constant fainting gets tedious quickly. And the ultimate twist about his mom’s fate not being the source of his trauma after all basically reduces his arc to a complete waste of the viewer’s time. If the writers hated him so much, why not just cut his screen time instead of demeaning his entire existence? This does not bode well for a potential adaptation of “All The Wrong Questions”, as Hector’s outlook on family loyalty and peer pressure is somewhat of a plot point in this series. I truly cannot begin to understand these choices as Hector plays a similar role to Hal, Charles and Jerome, who also have likewise personalities… but the writers have adapted Hal, Charles and Jerome faithfully and cleverly, so what gives?

[the-lupine-sojourner]

Takara Yamada’s Hero Academia Season 1 Episode 2 [Eijiro Kirishima/OC] [Female!Aizawa/Hizashi]

As usual, here is a link to Takara’s bio. 

This is the prologue, and Here is the first episode’s insertion. 

I was proof-reading earlier, got distracted, and ended up not posting til now. Anyway, hope you enjoy, guys! I really do appreciate even just a like, but feedback is amazing, too!

Also, I’m really trying to keep everyone in-character, even Shota. I know I made her a woman, but I’m trying not to let myself write her as too emotional and stuff. Hope y’all like it! 

Taglist: @dailyojiromashirao (I included an incredibly tiny interaction between Bakugo and Takara for you, hun! XD It’s so small, you might have to squint, though.)

God Bless and Good Day!

~The Lupine Sojourner

“Without a Quirk?” Toshin-Oji asks. I knew, from a day not long after I first met All Might, that he had inherited the Quirk that made him the #1 Hero in the world. He had once been in Midoryia’s shoes. He still hadn’t told me what specific Quirk he has, but it was enough that he trusted me with that part of the secret.

He then grunts as if in pain, reminding me of our situation, trembling as smoke began to rise from him. I begin to panic, but Izuku doesn’t notice Toshin-Oji’s condition, his eyes still squeezed shut as he awaited All Might’s answer.

“Not now, damnit! Not here!” Toshin-Oji hisses under his breath as I move to try to block the view. Izuku’s eyes are on the floor despondently.

“People think I don’t have a chance.” he murmurs. “That not having any powers makes me some kinda weakling.” He continues meekly, absently playing with his hands. “My classmates like to make fun of me.” My eyes go wide. He was really baring his soul here, huh? Toshin-Oji was, unfortunately, in hardly any position to truly listen to Izuku. In both an effort to make this poor kid feel at least a little better, and hide Toshin-Oji further, I hug him. He lets me, even letting his arms carefully wrap around me. It felt a little awkward, but at least the secret should be safe now. “But, you know what? That makes me want to prove them wrong. Ever since I was a little kid, I’ve thought that saving people is the coolest thing you could do. I want people to see my fearless smile and feel safe.” His eyes light up with a sparkle and I move to end the hug. His eyes close again. “I want to be the kind of hero everyone in the world looks up to. Just like you!” With that, before I can do anything, Izuku looks up and sees the smoke clear to reveal Toshin-Oji’s real form. It sends Izuku into another freak-out, with him promptly screaming. I huff.

“Look, he’s still the same guy.” I point out, crossing my arms. “Calm down.”

“I- -wait- -who- -what happened? You deflated!” He shrieks, unable to process what happened.

“Izuku, please listen. There’s no reason to keep freaking out.” I soothe, to no avail. Izuku then goes into denial, looking around as if to find the All Might he knows.

“You...you’re not him!” He protests. I sigh, letting him get it out of his system before trying to explain what happened. “You’re a fake! An imposter!”

“Look, you know that’s not true. There’s no one else up here.” I begin, but Toshin-Oji puts his hand on my shoulder.

“I assure you, I am the real All- -” He’s cut off as he coughs and blood comes up. Izuku yet again shrieks.

“You really have to stop that!” I snap, hands on my ears. “Geez!”

“Impossible!” Izuku cries, going pale.

“You know how guys at the pool are always sucking in and flexing and trying to look buff?” Toshin-Oju explains, seeming to startle Izuku into silence. “I’m like that.” He’d explained it to me in a similar way soon after we started hanging out on a more regular basis.

“This can’t be real!” Izuku moans. I nod.

“It can and it is.” I reply. “Look on the bright side; you know All Might better than anyone you know now.” I try to boost his mood. It doesn’t seem to work.

“I’m dreaming.” Izuku mumbles. “All Might is a giant who saves everyone. He defeats all obstacles and wins the day with a fearless smile.”

“And that person is still standing in front of you.” I point out. This was getting real old, real quick. Toshin-Oji sighs.

“There’s plenty of fear behind that smile.” He explains, then sits down. Izuku only seems to respond to Toshin-Oji, I note, and I decide to sit with him, trying not to take it personally. “I’m counting on you to keep your mouth shut like Takara here.” He instructs firmly. “Don’t go talking about this online or telling your friends.” He’d said almost that exact thing when explaining this to me, too.

“This is serious, Izuku.” I add gravely. It was vital people didn’t know that All Might had a weakness, so that villains don’t get cocky and launch an uprising or something. Toshin-Oji then lifts his shirt, revealing his ugly, expansive scar to Izuku, who flinches, gasping in shock and maybe sympathy.

“Pretty gross, right?” Toshin-Oji murmurs, as if in contempt at his wound. “I got this in a big fight five years back. My respiratory system was basically destroyed. I very nearly lost my stomach.” It was the first time he’s talked to or in front of me about just how bad the wound really was. I cringe, imagining the agony and suffering this poor man had to go through, possibly to this day, from this ‘big fight’. “All the surgeries have pretty much worn me out, and it can’t be fixed.” He lets the shirt fall back down. “Right now, I can only do hero work for about three hours a day.” That much, I’d known. In fact, it was what made him a regular drop-off point for my parents, who still thought I needed someone to watch over me. I didn’t mind, though, as I got to hang out with Toshin-Oji. “Rest of the time,” He continues, “this is what I look like.” Izuku has yet to say a word, standing there in shock that All Might was trusting him so much.

I gotta be honest; I was wondering that myself, too. I suppose most of it is due to the fact that they were both once Quirkless.

“No way…” Izuku finally murmurs. “Five years ago? So, does that mean it was the fight with Toxic Chainsaw?” He asks. I raise a brow. I knew Toshin-Oji had been in a lot of fights, but I could never tell you who he fought and when he fought them. Izuku is on another level of fanboy. It takes true dedication to result in Izuku’s level of knowledge. Toshin-Oji nods, impressed.

“Wow. You know your stuff.” He muses. “But no. The punk may’ve landed some hits, but he couldn’t bring me down.” He explains. “Most of the world has never heard of this fight.” But I had, to some extent. Kāsan had told me it was a villain dead-set on Toshin-Oji’s destruction. Not just his body, though. This guy was so full of hatred for my adopted uncle that he wanted to eradicate the very essence of what All Might stood for, what he meant. This incarnation of evil wanted to take All Might’s legacy before he’d let All Might die. It was bone-chilling to think or hear about. And I doubt Toshin-Oji even knows how much I know. “I did everything I could to keep it under wraps.” For good reason. Again, it’d point out to the world that it’s #1 Hero could be beaten. It would mean that All Might himself has a weakness, causing villains everywhere to flock together and attempt to do what this guy did, except this time make sure All Might went down for good. Toshin-Oji’s sigh brings me rushing back to reality. “I’m supposed to be the guy who’s always smiling, right?” He asks rhetorically. “I’m the symbol of peace. People everywhere have to think I’m never afraid.” I think that’s putting too much pressure on himself, but I don’t comment. I’d tried telling him that, but he refused to listen. “But, honestly, I smile to hide the fear inside. It’s just a brave face I put on when the pressure is high. This job isn’t easy.” I swallow. I’d been told this same thing many, many times.  

“Which, again, is why it’s so important you not tell anyone about this.” I add, staring Izuku in the eye. “I know this is a lot to take in and ask of you, but the public can’t know about this.” I press. Toshin-Oji nods.

“Exactly. Pro heroes are always having to risk their lives, but some villains just can’t be beaten without powers.” I suddenly realize what Toshin-Oji’s been trying to say, why he showed Izuku his scar; he didn’t want Izuku to become a hero. He didn’t want a life of pain, blood, and hardship for such a sweet, innocent kid. “So, no; I don’t think you can become a hero without a Quirk.” Izuku’s face melts, deflating into a crushed, defeated shell of the former light I’d seen when he talked about wanting to be a hero. It pained me to see him like this.

“I see.” He murmurs weakly.

“Izuku, I’m sorry. Wanting to help people is such an amazing aspiration. You’ll figure out a way.” I mumble, unsure how else to reply. Toshin-Oji sighs as we stand.

“Exactly. If you want to help people, there are plenty of other ways to do it. You can become a police officer. They get crap cus the heroes catch most of the villains, but it’s a fine profession.” But not the one he dreams of. I sigh internally. My heart drops further and further with each step I take and I find myself spinning and hugging Izuku again.

“You’re an amazing person, Izuku, and I am so sorry.” I whimper, feeling horrible for Izuku. Izuku, however, just nods glumly.

“It’s not bad to have a dream, young man.” Toshin-Oji says, standing by the door, but not looking back. “Just...make sure your dreams are attainable, realistic. Understand?” That was a little harsh, I thought, squeezing Izuku a little harder. He still hasn’t said anything, but I can feel him trembling.

“Go ahead. I know the way from here.” I murmur to my uncle. “I’ll tell Kāsan I’ll be back a little later. I have money for a cab after I get Izuku home.” Toshin-Oji sighs.

“Alright, but don’t blame me if she’s upset.” I nod and he closes the door. There are a few moments of awkward silence, then an explosion at least five blocks away shocks us into moving.

“What the heck?” I murmur, watching thick black smoke rise against the blue sky.

“A villain!” Izuku cries, running toward the door. “I wonder which hero will show!” It seems automatic for him, but he halts like there’s a wall, twitching a little.

“You okay?” I ask, worried. He’d just had his dream shot down by his favorite hero. It can’t have left him unrattled. He slumps.

“I…” He sighs heavily and drags his feet, but we go through the door. “yeah.” I have to restrain myself and walk at Izuku’s pace. I’d said I’d get him home. I had to follow through on that, no matter how worried I was that Toshin-Oji would see and try to fight the guy, whoever he was. We walk down the stairs in silence. After all, we’d just met. We didn’t know how to talk to each other, or really anything about one another. But, one of my life mottos is the Golden Rule, so I continue walking with him, resorting to hoping my uncle doesn’t push himself too far.

Once we’re on the street, Izuku brings out his notebook, reviewing his previous entries. I decide against asking how it got so worn and...burnt?

Yeah, something tells me I shouldn’t open that can of worms.

Eventually, I notice tears in Izuku’s eyes. I find tears in my eyes, as well. I wrap an arm around his shoulder and blink them back. Poor kid didn’t need me adding to his problems. “Those are awesome drawings.” I mumble, grasping at anything that might cheer him up. It doesn’t work. Izuku closes the notebook and clutches it to his chest, sniffling as I let my arm fall back to my side.

“Even All Might said it.” He whimpers. “A hero needs a Quirk. I knew this, deep down, all along. I’ve just been avoiding reality, so desperate to prove myself wrong.” It honestly breaks my heart to hear the hopeless despair in his voice. I find I can relate to his drive and ambition; simply wanting to help people as a hero, become someone people could look to and depend on in troubled times. Someone people could rally behind.

Suddenly, I find myself stopping Izuku and looking him in the eye.

“Forget what All Might said. If you still think there’s a chance, you have to fight for it!” I bark, something driving me to speak my mind like I should have done back on the rooftop instead of being a coward and allowing this innocent kid to have have his world shattered, likely not for the first time. “If it helps at all, I still think you can be a hero! With the right gear and costume, you’d essentially even the playing field and become the first Quirkless hero!”

“Thanks, but- -” A nearby explosion interrupts him, and we both realize where our feet led us. “Is the fight from earlier still going on?” Izuku asks listlessly. I shrug.

“I don’t know. Wanna go see?” I reply.

“What’s the point?” He murmurs softly, shrugging.

“There are still empty pages in your notebook.” I snap. I was through being nice. He needed to snap out of this funk. “Your dream isn’t altogether gone, you know. Go over there with me, fill those pages with your genius analysis and learn more about being a hero. If you are still willing, you can keep working hard to attain your goal.” He nods mutely as we walk over. We gasp when we see what’s happening. “That’s the guy who attacked me!” Izuku squeaks, no longer depressed, shock overriding it. “Didn’t All Might capture him?” I frown.

“Yeah…” I then remember that Toshin-Oji’s pant pockets were empty when he stood up to leave. “Shit! The bottles must’ve dropped somehow!”

“He dropped it.” Izuku murmurs. “That means...it’s my fault. I grabbed his leg.” I pale. It made sense. Those pockets weren’t exactly secure, especially with the mid-air struggle before All Might let Izuku make it safely back to the ground before leaping off again.

“Why aren’t the heroes doing anything?” Someone in the gathered crowd asks. I take another look and pale. That guy was right! I see Kamui Woods, I think Powerloader, Death Arms, and Backdraft, all just...standing there. I then, upon remembering their Quirks and this guy’s pliable, slimy body, I realize that it makes sense. They can’t do anything.

“It looks like they’ve met their match. Plus, I hear the villain’s captured a kid.” The man next to the first one to speak replies. I pale in horror. What?! Izuku has a similar reaction, both of us snapping to look closer at the villain. “Things aren’t looking good for him.” The man continues. I gulp. That guy said it! That’s a disgusting way to be restrained.

And, if he was suffocating like Izuku was, then he probably didn’t have much time. I lick my lips. My Quirk wouldn’t do much. Best I could do would be throw ground at or splash the villain. But, it would probably just be either absorbed and enhance the villain, or just sit there, or (worst-case-scenario) it hits the kid.

Not to mention I don’t even have a provisional license. I’m as useless as those heroes right now! Someone else points out that this guy was the one All Might was chasing, and I pale. Another civilian asks where All Might is, and why he isn’t helping the heroes. I do a quick scan and, sure enough, there’s Toshin-Oji, head hung low and clutching his injury at the edge of the crowd. Crud! Izuku goes into another state of total shut-down, and I’m torn between staying with him and going to Toshin-Oji. Maybe I could ask my uncle how to use my Quirk to at least try and get that poor victim away. Maybe water? But I’m sure Backdraft tried, right?

What do I do?!

Izuku, for better or worse, makes my mind up for me by disregarding everything and running forward, into the fire and toward the villain. Instantly, my legs follow, reaching out for the water in the nearby fire hydrant. It bursts toward me and I clear a path through the fire and debris to help Izuku get close.

“Stop, you idiots! You’re going to get yourselves killed!” Death Arms roars after us, but we can’t stop. It’s like we’re not in control of our own bodies anymore.

“You two again?” The villain roars. I glare at him, having to refrain from spraying him right in the face, due to the fact that I wasn’t supposed to even be using my Quirk in this situation, I don’t think. Especially not directly against the villain. I grit my teeth, choosing to swirl the water around to clear away more fire as Izuku hurls his backpack at the guy’s face. The villain roars and rears up in shock and pain from the weight of the backpack hitting him, thankfully allowing the kid inside some air.

“Kacchan!” Izuku screams, running closer and clawing to try and get the victim out. The other boy, with spiky blonde hair, seems to recognize Izuku, too, and looks pissed about seeing him here.

“What the hell?!” he growls angrily. “What’re you doing here?!”

“We’re saving your life!” I snap, trying to resist the urge to wash this slimy villain away and be done with it. I create a protective shield over and around us, so Izuku can keep clawing without having to worry. Surely, laws allowed for self-defense, right? I mean, sure we decided to run forward, but now it was life and death, right? But no; I couldn’t do more than what I was doing or I’d be in serious trouble and (most likely) so would my parents. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing!” Izuku practically sobs. “My...my legs just started moving!” Tears are streaming down his face as he continues his desperate attempts at a rescue. The villain pounds on my barrier, but it holds, at the cost of draining my energy like a leaky cup; slow, but noticeable. “Kacchan, I couldn’t just stand there and let you die.” Izuku adds.

“Hate to interrupt, but this isn’t working!” I point out. “And I can’t use my Quirk to directly attack! It’s illegal!” Just then, as I hear the Pros rushing forward, the villain somehow causes an explosion! I barely manage to close the sphere of water around us, but it breaks almost instantly, sending Izuku and I backwards a few feet.

I groan, wobbling to my feet. Something breaking or straining my constructions meant it took a lot of energy out of me. I couldn’t keep it up if he’d keep breaking what I made. When we face the battle and take it in again, I see something I’ve both never been happier to see and wish I hadn’t; All Might, holding the guy back one-handed, grinning like nothing’s wrong.

“Shit.” I curse under my breath. He was pushing himself too hard!

“All Might…” Izuku mumbles, shocked as I was. “But- -”

“I really am pathetic.” Toshin-Oji growls at himself. “Here you are, Takara, doing more than even the pro heroes could, and without attacking the villain directly, too, where I was hesitating. Sorry. And to you, young man; I told you the traits of a great champion, but I see now I wasn’t living up to my own ideals!” He continues, angry with himself.

“Less talk! We gotta wrap this up!” I bark back, trying to get us back to the fight at hand. The water swirls back around Izuku and I as I try to move us away. I can only watch, however, as Toshin-Oji’s mouth spews more blood, even as he speaks.

“Pros are always risking their lives!” He continues, like he needed to get it out. “That’s the true test of a hero!” I notice All Might grab where this ‘Kacchan’’s arm is, the other clenched fist drawing back.

“Damn you, All Might!” The villain roars, angry at the hero for intervening again.

“Detroit...Smash!” Toshin-Oji roars, punching the villain while yanking this ‘Kacchan’ guy out of it’s grip, and just like that, the battle is over. I pull the sphere back over Izuku and I as the wind slams into it, and it barely holds at all! The force of the wind puts too much strain on the sphere and it breaks as the wind increases. 

I black out, unable to take that kind of energy drain. When I slowly wake up to a headache and bright light, I see Kāsan leaning over my bed, glaring at me with the overhead light shining directly into my eyes.

“What were you thinking, Takara?!” she growls, in a rare angry mood. “You know it’s illegal to use your Quirk to fight until you have a license!”

“I know! I used it only for defense!” I reply, grumpy at both my headache and the volume of my mother’s voice. “Izuku made the move, I just backed him up and made sure we didn’t both die.” I explain.

“That doesn’t give you the right to jump into those situations.” Kāsan replies. “I’ll say the same thing to this ‘Izuku’ when I him again, but know this; your actions might not be technically illegal, but you easily could have gotten hurt or killed out there! Did you even have a plan?”

“Yeah; keep the villain, fire, and debris away and back up whatever plan my friend came up with. He’s not stupid, just a bit reckless.” I protest.

“There’s no difference between the two!” Kāsan snaps waspishly. I’d rarely seen her this angry. “Your Quirk is not to be used lightly! It’s a responsibility!” I huff.

“Well, it’s not like the pros were doing anything!”

“They knew when to draw back and think of something else!” Kāsan roars. I decide it isn’t worth aggravating both my mother and my headache further and sigh.

“Alright, alright. I’m sorry, Kāsan. I just have a headache and it makes me cranky.” To her credit, my mother sighs and takes a breath to calm down.

“Promise not to let yourself use that much energy to fight again until you’ve gotten proper training, okay?” I nod meekly. She was right; in that situation, I was way out of my league. It could have gone so much worse.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“All that being said, Takara...I’m proud of you for reacting like a hero. I don’t like the result, and I don’t like the toll it took on you, but I’m glad you and the other kids are safe.” I nod, grateful she was past her angry stage.

“Thanks, Kāsan.”

[briangroth27]

The Shape of Water Review

The Shape of Water is an enchanting 1960s-set fairy tale told very well; a powerful, expertly-made work of art about the marginalized in our society. Director Guillermo del Toro got outstanding performances out of his stars while capturing the style and feel of the era perfectly, then used the time period to comment on today’s social issues through a story about the downtrodden rallying together against the establishment to preserve life and love.

Full Spoilers…

Sally Hawkins brilliantly conveyed character and emotion entirely through her expressions and sign language as Elisa Espostio (Sally Hawkins), a mute cleaning lady at a top-secret government laboratory who falls in love with an amphibian man (Doug Jones) captured in Latin America. It’s great to see a mute lead character and even better that the film doesn’t allow it hold her back at all, despite what those in power might think of her capabilities. Conveying the romance with and genuine love for the Amphibian Man was mostly on Elisa’s shoulders and Hawkins absolutely sold every bit of it. A wonderful moment late in the film includes an unexpected musical sequence that perfectly illustrates the impact he has on her heart, showing love can transcend even the strangest of barriers. That said, I don’t think Elisa is fully human herself, but the product of an earlier romance between a human and a different aquatic cryptid: her mysterious “scars” and backstory of being found by a river felt like a classic superhero secret origin. If that’s the case and the Amphibian Man healed her gills instead of creating them, then their relationship not only fuels her voice, but allows her to discover her truest self.

I also liked the easy friendships Elisa shared with her coworker Zelda (Octavia Spencer) and next-door neighbor Giles (Richard Jenkins). It was a nice and all-too-rare touch that these platonic relationships were just as important to Elisa’s life as her burgeoning romance with the Amphibian Man. It was a relief to find Elisa living a fully-functioning life even while she was longing for romantic love. I loved Zelda’s reactions to the Amphibian Man and to updates about Elisa’s love life. In addition to comic relief, Zelda brought common sense to Elisa’s interest in the Amphibian Man, at first keeping her friend’s head level and later recognizing that risking her life and career to help Elisa save him was something they had to do, even though she was greatly concerned for her best friend’s safety. Zelda being so dismissed in her marriage and having her decisions undercut (even if it was to save her life) by her husband (Martin Roach) was a solid mirror to Elisa and the Amphibian Man’s more mutually respectful relationship and to Strickland’s (Michael Shannon) domineering, controlling marriage. While Zelda was a fully-formed character, it would’ve been nice if she had a subplot of some kind of her own, like Giles did. His failed advertising posters (and failed interest in a guy (Morgan Kelly) working at a not-so-great pie shop) gave the movie a glimpse of the world and society outside the lab that we didn’t get from many other characters. Then again, perhaps it’s the fact that Zelda and Elisa work together and Giles doesn’t that made his world feel bigger than hers. It may also be that his ability to pass as an “acceptable” member of society grants him the ability to travel a wider world than Zelda can, as exemplified by the Pie Guy kicking an African-American family out of the pie shop. Despite his long reach, the sadness and rejection encompassing so much of his world, be it from the Pie Guy or the ad agency he was trying to sell to, painted a haunting picture of the world inhabited by those who “proper” society ignored or—at best—used, and I hope the world Elisa gets to travel to at the end of the film is happier and more equal. Still, I liked that Giles had a sense of hope to him; even if the world was clearly weighing on him, he still believes in the possibility of “happily ever after.”

The make-up for the Amphibian Man was mind-blowing and the movie deserved the Best Costume Design Oscar for it, while Doug Jones did an amazing job of conveying emotion and a sympathetic nature under all those prosthetics. The biggest thing I would’ve liked to see more of in the movie was his backstory. Actual god or not, I wanted to know what he wanted (beyond freedom and to love Elisa), what he thought of the world of men, etc. Who were his followers in South America and what “primitive” rituals did they use to worship him? What did he give them in return? Did he even register that he was worshiped as a god, or do his thoughts transcend those labels? What was his thought process as he went from worshiped to imprisoned? I wish he could’ve communicated better to give us some grander idea of his opinion on things, because his actions made him seem torn between gentle emotions and instinct-driven outbursts, like killing one of Giles’ cats. Perhaps it would be an interesting comment on society if this “god” were really just a different sort of animal and the people who worshiped it had simply projected their need for a god onto him, but I’m almost always against “grounding” half-measures in stories like this (if you’re gonna go there, go there), so I interpreted him as truly a god and would’ve liked to know more. That said, having Elisa fall in love with someone so outlandish was a strong metaphor for how those in power at the time (and honestly, in the present as well) saw homosexual and interracial love.

Michael Shannon’s Colonel Richard Strickland was a great villain and I loved how his control-freak nature demanded everyone around him become subservient, much like the paranoid American government he works for and represents demanded conformity. This made him simultaneously threatening and weak, hiding behind a thin veneer of socially-acceptable power. I especially liked his reaction when he found out just how replaceable he could become if he didn’t find the Amphibian Man; his easy dismissal in the event of his failure also contrasted nicely with how Zelda was always willing to cover for Elisa, from rescuing the Amphibian Man to simply holding her place in line to ensure she clocked in on time. Clearly there’s no friendship, loyalty, or leeway among the conformists, only control or destruction. Watching him break down as many people around him as he could—even his wife (Lauren Lee Smith), forcing her to be quiet while he focused on what he wanted out of their sex life—was very uncomfortable, so it was great to see his frustrated reaction to his inability to intimidate or break Elisa and Zelda. Not allowing his wife to speak was a great contrast to the Amphibian Man, who helped Elisa to not just talk, but to sing. The whimsical, silver screen nature of their classic Hollywood dance sequence also contrasted perfectly with the rot just under the “idealized” surface of 1960s America that Strickland upheld. Though the dance sequence is pure fantasy, it’s the only place where “the good old days” were actually good.

Another aspect that perfectly utilized the era was Dimitri Mosenkov/Robert Hoffstetler (Michael Stuhlbarg), a Soviet spy embedded in the lab. Like the threat of the Other found in African-Americans, the gay community, and a sea god, the Red Scare epitomized America’s desperate drive to destroy what it couldn’t control or understand. As I’ve seen noted elsewhere, it was very cool that the film subverted expectations and had Mosenkov not only help Elisa save the Amphibian Man from vivisection at the hands of the Americans, but that he gave Elisa information on how to keep him alive once she’d extracted him. That he cared more about the Amphibian Man as a living thing than as a means to attain Soviet superiority by vivisecting it was great; I definitely expected him to try to give him to his spymasters, where the South American god would’ve met the same fate the American military planned for it. It’s certainly a powerful indictment of our government that this spy sent to undermine us had more humanity than our people, who are only concerned with being “the best” no matter what that does to their souls. The fact that Mosenkov literally had a secret identity is also a nice thematic tie to Giles’ closeted homosexuality, Elisa’s mysterious origins, and the hidden power and passion the oppressed in this time concealed from their conformity-demanding government.

Universal’s classic Creature from the Black Lagoon was an inspiration for this film, and The Shape of Water is an excellent sort of remake, touching on similar themes while updating them and making them relevant to a modern audience. It was very smart of del Toro to explore the limitations of social mores of 1962 by focusing on a cast made up of those without power back then (who are still facing under-representation and lack of power today). However, I would argue that while setting this in the past has the desired effect of getting the audience to let its guard down, it also allows the audience to distance themselves too much, letting us say “those problems have been solved” and never forcing us to inspect ourselves. Still, I absolutely loved the score and the entire 1960s aesthetic del Toro achieved! I could easily have seen this taking the Best Cinematography Oscar. 

The Shape of Water looks beautiful, has an excellent cast who are all on point, and has a very strong love story at the center of a powerful tale of those without power subverting the accepted system. I definitely recommend it!

 Check out more of my reviews, opinions, and original short stories here!

[xtruss]

Why Do Some People Support Tyranny While Others Defy It?

"They understand to some extent that they are helping in the destruction of other people’s freedoms…and they revel in it"

— August 12, 2021 | Al-Market.US | By Brandon Smith

There is a fundamental question that haunts the pages of history and it is one that has never been addressed in a satisfactory manner. There are many schools of thought on why and how tyranny rises in any given society and all of them miss the mark in terms of explanations, primarily because they all allow their biases to rule their conclusions and blind them to the deeper aspects of power and conspiracy. In other words, they are willing to go down the rabbit hole only so far, and then they deny that the rabbit hole even exists.

The common assumption when it comes to autocracy or oligarchy is that people are “stupid” and easily manipulated into following compelling personalities that make promises they never intend to keep. This is a foolish oversimplification. In truth, the level of manipulation needed to lure a majority of people into dictatorship is so complex that it requires an advanced understanding of human psychology.

In our modern era, people cannot merely be ordered to submit at gunpoint, at least not right away. They must be tricked into conforming, and not only that, but they must be made to think that it was THEIR IDEA all along. Without this dynamic of self censorship and self enslavement, the population will eventually rebel no matter how oppressive the regime. A thousand year tyranny cannot exist unless a number of people are conned into applauding it, or, they directly benefit from it.

And this is where we find the true key to totalitarianism – It only thrives because there is an inherent portion of any given society that secretly loves it and wants it to exist. We might call these people useful idiots, but it is much more than that. They are not necessarily unaware of what they are doing; they understand to some extent that they are helping in the destruction of other people’s freedoms…and they revel in it. Sure, there are elitists and globalists that levy core conspiracies and seek out more and more control, but they could not accomplish much of anything without the aid of the army of sociopathic aberrations that live among us.

This strange and destructive characteristic is ever visible today in light of the covid lockdowns and the push for forced vaccinations. It is clear that there are some people out there that are overly concerned with the personal health decisions of everyone else. The science and the stats prove there is nothing for them to worry about from the virus, but they ignore the science. They thirst for the taste of power. They have become a cult which ignores all logic and demands fealty to their fraudulent narrative. They do not care about the facts, they only care that we comply.

Well, as I have said time and time again: We Will Not Comply!

And so begins the epic conflict; a tale as old as civilization itself. There are two types of people in this world: Those that want to control others, and those that want to be left alone. But what motivates the control freaks? Why are they the way they are? Lets examine some of the causes…

The Fear Engine

There are people that are driven by success, by merit, by hope, by prosperity, by faith, by optimism, by love, and by honor. And then, there are people driven by fear. There are hundreds of various fears, but only a few ways to react to any of them. Collectivists respond to fear with a desperate need to micromanage their environment; they believe that if they can dictate people and events to a certain degree, they can eliminate unexpected outcomes and be free of fear. But life does not work this way and it never will.

The level of influence these people seek is so far beyond them that it can never be attained. That is to say, they will never be satisfied until they get more. Their fears will always haunt them because fears cannot be dealt with from without, they can only be dealt with from within.

Furthermore, the things they fear often revolve around their own narcissism and are of their own making. They fear failure, but they rarely work hard enough to succeed. They fear exposure, but only because they constantly lie. They fear conflict, but only because they are weak in body and character. They fear death, because they believe in nothing greater than themselves. They clamor for dominance of their surroundings because they wrongly believe that they can cheat fate and the consequences of their own terrible choices.

“Frankly at this point it is going to be us, or them. Our two tribes cannot coexist within the same society, maybe not even the same planet.”

The Safety of The Mob

The issue of fear extends into the common mindset of the totalitarian and how they find safety. The idea of standing on their own two feet and standing by their principles in the face of opposition is completely foreign to them. They avoid these situations at any cost and the notion of risk is abhorrent to them. So, they instead look for a mob to blend into. This makes them feel safe in obscurity while also wielding force through collectivist action. They can feel powerful while at the same time being pitiful and weak.

These people almost always operate through large single minded groups that punish any dissension in the ranks, usually with gatekeepers that moderate the motivations of the hive.

The mob itself is a weapon, its only purpose beyond the comfort of its adherents is to destroy those people that do not hold the same beliefs or values as the controllers. There is no defensive purpose to the mob; it is an assassin’s tool, it is a nuclear bomb. And, as we have seen in every modern dictatorship from the Bolsheviks in Russia to the Fascists in Germany to the communists in Mao’s China, the totalitarian mob is capable of murdering more people than any nuclear weapon in existence, all in the name of “the greater good of the greater number.”

False Piety in Place of Self Worth

All tyrants believe themselves to be righteous in their cause, even when they know that their actions are morally abhorrent. I have seen this dynamic on bold display during the covid mandates and the vaccine passports initiatives. Consider for a moment that 99.7% of the population is under no legitimate threat from the covid virus; they will not die from it, and in the vast majority of cases they will recover quickly from it. Yet the covid cult consistently argues that people who refuse the mandates, the lockdowns and the vaccines are putting others at risk, which is why we need to be “forced” to submit.

Most of them know according to the data that covid is not a threat, but the narrative gives them an opportunity to apply power through “moral judgment”, and so they lie, and they continue to lie about the data until they think the lie will be accepted as reality. This is a common aspect of most cults and of fundamentalist religions that have gone astray – The habit of adherents to value lies over facts and evidence not because they are trying to protect their faith, but because it affords them the chance to feel pious and superior to those they are determined to harm.

Those who disagree are labeled heretics, the lowest of the low, the unwashed terrorists. The anti-mandate crowd is thus stripped of its humanity in this way and is painted as demonic. The people who want to remain free become monsters, and the totalitarian monsters become heroes out to save the world. As author Robert Anton Wilson once said:

“The obedient always think of themselves as virtuous rather than cowardly.”

The Love of a Cage

I feel as though I understand this mindset to an extent, but it never fails to shock me the way in which people who scratch and scrape for power over others also seem to love being slaves to the system. I’m not so sure that it is ironic, as authoritarianism does fulfill some of its promises of “security” as long as the people involved are willing to trade away any impulses of liberty. If you do as you’re told at all times and serve the system without fail, then there is a good chance you will be able to hold onto the meager necessities of survival. You will live a life, though probably not a happy one.

For those that go above and beyond and cast aside all personal principle in order to further the goals of the system, they might even enjoy a modicum of wealth beyond their peers. You see, in a despotic society, the people who are most without honor are the people that are most rewarded. They don’t need merit, or accomplishment, or skills, or even brains; all they have to do it sell their souls and do whatever it takes to catch the eye of the oligarchy. They don’t have to be good at anything, all they have to do is be evil, and for some people that’s easy.

In this way the system becomes a comfortable blanket that otherwise useless deviants can be swaddled in. They wrap themselves in it and luxuriate in its warmth. They are not concerned with freedom because freedom feels cold to them. Freedom can be isolating and the existence of choice is terrifying. When all your choices are made for you there is never any doubt or internal stress. All that is required is that you wake up each day and obey.

For weak and ignorant people, subservience is a gift instead of a curse. They believe that a cage is meant to be gilded, not escaped from, and anyone that seeks escape must be crazy or dangerous. If free people exist then the slaves are forced to question their own condition and their own compliance, so everyone must be enslaved to remove any and all doubt from society. The hive mind is placed above all else.

The Defiant And Free

The little tyrants that infiltrate humanity probably look at liberty advocates as some kind of alien creatures from far beyond the bounds of their universe. They just can’t fathom how it is possible for someone to defy the system, to stand against the mob or the collective, even when they are outnumbered or when the risk is so high. They assume that it is a form of madness or a lack of intelligence; for how could anyone smart think they have a chance of fighting back against the dictatorship?

Liberty people are individualists by nature, but we also care about the freedoms of others. There is a common propaganda narrative that claims that individualists are “selfish”, but this is not the case at all. It is not enough for us alone to escape slavery, we will not stand by and watch others be forced into bondage either. We are willing to risk our lives not just to save ourselves but to save future generations from autocracy.

As the vaccine passports and mandates continue to escalate the totalitarians will find themselves even more bewildered, because each new mechanism of control will result in even greater impetus for rebellion, and frankly at this point it is going to be us, or them. They will not stop their pursuit of dominion and we will not comply, so we are at an impasse. Our two tribes cannot coexist within the same society, maybe not even the same planet.

The truth is that if voluntarism was a valued ideal then this whole fight could be avoided. If the collectivist cult was willing to accept the notion that they can choose to live in a highly micromanaged environment while others can choose to live independently, then there would be no crisis. We could easily go our separate ways. But this is not how totalitarians think: To them, all people are chattel, we are property to be staked down and reeducated until we see the light. And if we don’t see the light, we are to be done away with and erased.

This is why they are utterly to blame for the war that is coming. They cannot stop themselves from grasping for our throats and our minds. They are addicted to supremacy. They are living in a fever dream and the only drug that cools their veins is total oppression of everyone around them. I see what is coming next and it is not pretty for either side, but it will be especially gruesome for the collectivists because they cannot imagine a scenario in which they lose. They are so certain of their preeminence and the safety of their self imposed prisons that they will see failure as a phantom, a ghost that cannot touch them. It would only take a handful of minor defeats to bring them down, but this requires freedom advocates become more organized than they are.

The bottom line is this: Tyrannical systems are planned by elitists groups and governments and it is they that benefit most from the destruction of public freedoms. It is indeed a conspiracy, and the pandemic lockdowns and forced vaccine response are no exception. However, tyrannical systems could not be executed without the help of a larger psychopathic contingent of the population, and these people congregate together to make terrible things happen. It’s as if they hear a silent dog whistle as totalitarianism rises, or they smell the blood of innocent victims in the air.

Call them leftists, call them communists, call them collectivists, call them whatever you want; but know that the globalists are not our only concern. There is a wall of self absorbed and power hungry peons in the way, and they want whatever scraps they can get from the big boy’s table. They are not oblivious; they have not been tricked into doing the things they do. They are a sad and pathetic bunch but they are still dangerous in their ambitions, and they will continue to slither out of the woodwork as the covid agenda progresses.

[miraculouskpop]

MKP Series | The Beginnings

☆ Miraculous KPOP | AU Series ☆

Title: The Beginnings

Characters: Amber, Sehun, Jungkook, Jungyeon, Lisa and Jimin + Kwamis

Synopsis: Before they were ever heroes, they were simple people. A basic introduction to everyone meeting their kwami for the first time.

Words: 4941 ( yeah it’s freaking long whoops )

A/n: This will go according to the Miraculous Ladybug timeline/canon where Marionette, Adrien to Alya and eventually Chole will receive their miraculouses, and then AU listing of who receives their miraculous first.

🐞 Amber / Ladybug 🐞

Wait.... Wait.... Wait.

Something’s not processing correctly. Or is she perhaps hallucinating? Amber blinked a few times, and that thing still wouldn’t budge from its position. The moment she laid eyes on this drastically different... spotted looking creature with those freakishly huge blue eyes gazing at her, Amber had reached the deep end. She’s insane, she has finally lost her mind! She figured her intense scheduling and homesickness couldn’t be that bad, but yes, it’s severely bad. So, so bad to the point she’s literally seeing things that shouldn’t be seen.

And then, it opened its mouth.

“Hello! My name is Tikki-”

“Oh my god!” Okay, she didn’t mean to overreact like this, but it‘s rather inevitable. The thing just freaking like, opened its oddly human shaped mouth and talked to her! And she’s suppose to remain calm? The girl backed away as her mind reeled with questions, and more importantly, how to GTFO this dorm quickly and safely as possible. The thing seemed suddenly concerned by its rather worried look, “Oh, no! It’s perfectly okay! You’re safe with me.” It smiled.

Okay, what the hell is going on here? “How can you even speak? Why are you here? And what exactly are you?” Amber’s hand fell on the desk behind her, fingertips brushing against what felt like a book. She quickly grabbed the book and swung at the creature, but it missed by the margin. The thing now appeared upset with its hands- well, no, but it might as well be called hands, resting on its hips.“I would gladly answer all of your questions if you could please calm down. My name is Tikki, and I am a kwami, okay? I am a goddess the embodies the power of good luck! I am presented specifically to you because you are selected to be the next Ladybug.”

The next...”what?” How does- what, why?

“You see, remember when you helped that man from earlier today?” The question had Amber’s mind reeling back from this morning. In fact, she do recall assisting an elderly man across the street even when she was running late... “Yeah, but what does that has to do with anything?”

“You helping that person showed great consideration that most people do not have these day. He decided to select you as the next miraculous holder because of that simple act, which is why you received the earrings on your bed.” The girl glanced at the red polka dotted earrings discarded on the edge of her bed and raised an eyebrow. “Errm...great...? But I don’t even wear earrings, so...” She trailed off. C’mon, it really doesn’t fit her masculine style. She always worn majority of her clothing monotone with rusted color, and not to mention her hair doesn’t exactly compliment those earrings, anyway. 

“Amber, those earrings weren’t given to you simply for no reason. You will be gifted with supernatural abilities far greater than you can fathom!” Wait. How does this thing- okay, kwami or whatever, knows her name? “Well, I can give them to Krystal or Sulli. They’ll love it, and I’m just a simple girl who’s trying to survive life right now.” A fleeting thought made Amber pause. Abilities? This was already surreal enough as it is, but becoming a superhero? That’s one of her hidden desires she’d kill for whenever she’s reading Marvel comics. Imagine that, a rookie girl like herself trying to attain fame while adjusting to a new country and trying to maintain her own identity while fighting crime. Sounds like an interesting plotline, but still, none of this makes sense and everything’s happening all too suddenly.

“Amber...” The kwami flew towards her so abruptly that the poor girl nearly went cross-eyed. “This is serious. This is not a dream, nor a hallucination. I am a hundred percent real as any other person with the exception that I am not a human being.”

...She must’ve lost it.

“No Amber, you did not lose anything. In fact, I believe taking the role as a new Ladybug will greatly boost your confidence level as a person and find characteristics that you yourself might be surprised by!” Everything felt too unrealistic to be considered as definite truth, and yet the more Amber thought about it, the more she felt curious. However, within the midst of curiosity held deep reluctance. She wasn’t exactly popular by male standards and many people were not fond of her presence... Accepting this offer will only add more responsibilities and insanity to her already chaotic life.

Even so, the child within herself sprang free at the possibility of being more than average. Someone... important. With a sigh, Amber folded her arms and gave the ladybug a careful look, “Okay, fine.” She said, “I have no idea what’s going on and I can’t say I believe you at the moment, but uh, I’ll pretend that I do.” She’s hoping to wake up an minute now... any minute...

“Great! I’ll tell you all about it. But first, you need to wear those earrings.”

“No.”

“Amber...! You have to wear the earrings.”

“Over my dead body. Do I look like an ultra feminine Sailor Moon to you?” Amber showcased her point by flashing her rugged black hoodie, cap and shorts.

“Why would it matter when inner beauty is key?”

“...No.”

“You won’t be able to transform until you wear them.”  

“Well, I can have my roommate wear them unless really needed.” She didn’t want to deal with the hassle of wearing accessories. It’s already painful enough being coated with pounds of foundation and makeup... “Devastation is near, and if we allow him to destroy the country then it’s only a matter of time before he conquers the entirety of this world!” Tikki exclaimed. Although too many questions invaded the girl’s mind, but she didn’t allow the thoughts to fester as she slowly placed each earring into her ears with a dreaded sigh.  

“Okay, fine... what now?”

“Oh Amber, this is a wonderful progression! I am so happy you have accepted your new role as Ladybug. Let me explain that in order to activate the miraculous is to call me by my name, and say, “Spots on!” And I’ll transfer into the earrings to give you power.” Amber pursed her lips in thought.

“So, you want me to say it now?” Her roommates and managers is literally across the room, and here she is talking to a mystical ladybug? Okay. Tikki nodded eagerly, “It would be the first stepping stone to greater things. I’m sorry for rushing you, but I thought maybe this way could influence you...” 

“Sure, I guess.” She felt a little embarrassed about this, but...”Tikki, spots on...- woah!” Amber didn’t get the chance to blink before a streak of red zipped across the room and into her small pair of red earrings.

🐺 Sehun / Wolf 🐺

He’s tired. Very tired. So tired it feels like sleep is clinging onto his body similar to that of hungry leeches. All he wanted to do is plop onto the bedsheets and pass out, but he knew his manager would not approve of him sleeping without at least taking a shower. Well, it’s not like he usually sleep without showing regardless. But whatever. God, what time is it, anyways? Sehun glanced at the clock and nearly did a double take. Crap, is it eleven o’clock already? He could’ve done other things if it wasn’t for his hyungs nagging him to stay...

The boy closed the door behind him with a sigh. His baggy clothes felt suddenly sticky and wet along with his stringy bleak hair falling between his face.

Ew.

A loud growl rippled through Sehun’s stomach as he frowned. Neither did he realize how hungry he was until he walked towards the kitchen in absolute happiness, only to then find the refrigerator completely empty. “Great...” Sehun grumbled as he closed the refrigerator door, then whipped out his cell to send his hyungs a text to pick up some more food. He checked the cabinets to find a few packets of ramen noodles stashed near the corner, so it’ll have to do for now. In the meantime, he should probably prepare for bed. After quick shower, the young boy went to the kitchen to prepare some ramen. While waiting for the water to boil, Sehun gazed at his cell phone for any response from his friends. Well, guess he say former friends now. After being scouted by SM and accepting their offer, none of his friends have been supportive of the decision, and perhaps it wasn’t the best choice he made. Even so, Sehun figured that maybe it’ll all work out in the end.

Guess not.

He didn’t mean to cause a rift within the friendships, but none of his friends had responded to him lately, so... it kind of hurts. Maybe this is his entire fault. He just wanted to be something more than...- nevermind. He sat his cellphone on the countertops and snatched the black box laying idly on the table. He happened to find it on his bed this morning and never bothered to opened it. Perhaps one of his hyungs gave it to him as a gift? Curiosity peaked his interest as he opened the box.

It’s a watch. Looks pretty neat. Sehun looked at the object a little more until a flash of bright light blinded him. With a high pitched squeak the teenager dropped the box. What was that? Did a light bulb blowed? He felt a little embarrassed for responding rather... badly, but the moment he glanced at the counter something completely grasped his attention.

Wolf. Thing. Flying?

No. Nevermind.

...And yet Sehun cannot look away.

It’s staring at him with those bright yellow eyes. Nope. Not real- “are you going to continue staring at me like that or do I have to introduce myself?”

“What the absolute fuc-”

“Ah ah ah...” The thing tsked, “No swearing within the perimeter of my presence, please.” Did- did it just talk? Sehun gawked at the flying animal thing as fear suddenly gripped him tightly. He couldn’t move, and even if he wanted to speak no words seemed to utter from his mouth.

“Let’s get things settle here. My name is Apollo, and I am a kwami god gifted with tremendous power of power and protection. I shall be your new guardian since you have opened the box. And that,” it pointed at the watch, “Will be your new miraculous to wear in order to transform into the appropriate hero.”

...What?

“W-what- why are you talking?!” OhmygodIamseeingshitwhatthehellisgoingon- “This is a trick, right? Someone’s pulling my leg...”

“No legs are pulled here, child.”

“Why are you talking!”

“Am I not allowed to speak?”

“No! I mean, I don’t even know what you are-”

“I just stated that I am a kwami.”

“Like I know what the hell that is!”

“Perhaps if you opened your mind and closed your mouth, then you can finally comprehend my words.” The thing ( yes, thing. ) retorted. Sehun felt immediate irritation creeping on him the longer he stood. This is severe amount of BS someone did, and whoever the person is Sehun hopes that person’s ass gets kicked to another dimension.

“We kwamis are presented to people who carry heroic qualities about themselves. Well, unfortunately, not all of the kwamis per-say, but most of us. However, there are people who abuse kwamis for self gratification, so that is why the master guardian shields all miraculouses from the public.”

“Okay, great, nice, but can you find someone else to harass? I’m trying to eat and go to bed, so-.” A second later, the wolf thing hovered directly in front of Sehun with its topaz eyes searing into his soul, “You. Are. Appointed.” It emphasized its husky voice on each word, “Do you honestly believe I am going to waste my infinite time with an obnoxious human being like yourself? Please, if that’s the case then I would’ve been freed from this unnecessary obligation!” It barked, “But of course, I have my mandated responsibilities just like you humans do, and so, it is not an option for you to reject me.”

“What are you saying?” Why does it feel normal talking to this thing? The thing released a long drawn out sigh. It backed away from Sehun slowly and stood on the table, “Me Apollo. Me a kwami. I give powers. This? MIR-AC-ULOUS...” Sehun growled. This piece of crap is obviously insulting his intelligence, isn’t it? “Okay, whatever, stop it.”

“I’ll cease to belittle your minuscule intelligence once you grasp the basics of communication. Oh, and by the way... do you happen to have tea? Goodness, after decades of being trapped in that miraculous I’m rather famished!” It flew in and out of the cabinets until a box of green tea packets fell on top of Sehun’s head.

And here they are at the table with a bowl of ramen and a cup of tea. How did this even happen? Honestly, at this point Sehun cannot even remember...

“So, that watch is actually some mystically enhanced jewelry piece?”

“Ah, not quite. Most jewelry pieces are small and dainty. I take pride of this watch! An enormous progression of history if I must say so myself.”

“Right... I’m going to be a...?”

“Miraculous wielder and protector of other active miraculouses. An occurring through divine or supernatural intervention, or manifesting such power. ”

“Kind of like a shounen hero?”

“Whatever you see fit.” The kwami, Apollo, stated before lapping up the bits of hot green tea. Sehun laid back within his chair as he allowed the information to process. Hm...hero, right? It reminds him of those typical shounen- well, moreso shoujo animes where there’s tiny talking animals introducing a new power to the main characters. Perhaps it’s the same thing with these uh, kwamis, right? Actually, why is he becoming comfortable with this? He should’ve called the cops on this little freak and have him experimented on. But then again, he’s not that heartless...

“Alright, whatever, fine. I’ll accept.”

Apollo looked up in surprise, “Hm, quite an immediate response. Are you sure you don’t need anymore time?” He asked.

“Nah. Honestly, I got nothing to lose besides my already draining sanity. And besides, it’ll give me something better to do than train. Didn’t you say you weren’t going to take “no” for an answer, anyway?”

“Hm, indeed. I had expected a series of denial and rejection from you, but I was wrong.”

“Great.” Sehun removed the watch out of the box before fiddling with it. He noticed the intricate designs encased around what appears to be a figured wolf within the center. The roman numerals rotated around the wolf with little and big hand aligned at twelve. Eventually, he slipped the watch onto his wrist and relished the coolness of it.

“Are you interested in testing your abilities?”

“I don’t see why not.” If he’s going to become one, might as well get used to this. Then again, he’ll have to see once he wakes up tomorrow.

“Very well. Then call me by name, and then say, “Howl through.” I will enter into the-”

“Apollo, howl through.”

“But I’m not-finished!” The poor wolf kwami did not receive the chance to finish his sentence before he was sucked into the watch.

🐱 Jungkook / Kwan Kat 🐱

As far as Jungkook can remember it’s been exactly seven months, twenty-eight days, thirty-two hours, six minutes and forty seconds since Ladybug and Wolf appeared on the scene. The moment he knew that there’s something more than life itself. He became a huge fan of the heroes and started a Naver fansite dedicated to the two, taking up majority of his time just like rookie idol training and school. Perhaps even more than school itself.

Whenever an attack happens in the city, Jungkook quickly excuses himself and whips out his camera to take good quality photos of the duo and akuma. On most conspiracy websites, it’s been theorized that akumas originate far from the city... a possible manipulator of some sort? It’s recognized that the perpetrator feeds off toxic emotions of anger and sadness. It kind of reminds him of those villains where they attack from a distance, almost as if...

“He’s using us as pawns.” Everyone groans around him.

Jungkook frowned, “What? It’s the only way possible. After all, no one have managed to find the culprit behind these possessions?” He can’t help it! There’s so many possibilities out there, and the only resource he has is Ladybug and Wolf. Note to self: make sure to interview Ladybug and Wolf soon... “C’mon Jungkook, there’s other things to talk about besides them. Can’t you see they’re way out of our league? Let them handle it.” Jin said.

“I know, but...”

“But nothing! You’ve been talking about it nonstop since the incident happened months ago. Do yourself and everyone a favor and stop. You probably think they’ll bend their knees for someone as average as us? Yah, give me a break!” Yoongi scoffed as he scooted out of his chair. The other rookies glanced at the round table as Yoongi continued to lecture Jungkook, “I have yet to see them interview anyone, and frankly, I doubt they care about us, let alone you. They believe they are so special because they have powers? Yeah, no.”

“...They...have normal identities, too...” Jungkook shrunk in his seat slowly as Yoongi relentlessly berated him until the elder walked away in frustration, leaving the poor boy alone in silence. With a sigh, the maknae pushed away his food and left the table. He could feel the anger rising in his chest reflecting over the incident. The further he focused on it, a sense of dark energy radiated from his mind...

They’re wrong.

He cannot be moved. Or else it’ll consume him, too.

.

Is he dreaming? No, he can’t possibly...

There stood Ladybug and Wolf. His heroes. On top of the balcony asking for him, Jeon Jungkook, to help them personally? The boy wiped his eyes as he edged closer outside the window. But honestly, what can he do? He doesn’t have much to offer them, let alone anyone else, so...-

“We’re not asking if you’re physically capable. We’re interested in your willingness to help us.” The wolf boy stated.

“B-but what can I do? I wanna help... though, why are you guys asking me? There’s so many people out there that’s better than me! I’m just a freaking fanboy!” And everyone teases him about it at school. Ugh... just thinking about the humiliation yesterday still recoils deep in his stomach. He’s not good at talking, either! Won’t he just embarrass them if he decides to help? Jungkook was lost in his own thoughts he never noticed Ladybug closing in on his personal space until he looked up.

“True. We could find someone better, but a friend of mines gave me a recommendation about you. I think if you stopped doubting yourself, then you can go far. So, are you interested or not?”

Is he? This might be his one time offer, so- “yes!” Yes, YES! Jungkook nodded as Ladybug smiled, “Good. Here, you’ll need this.” The heroine pulled out a tiny black box and handed it to the teen. Without a second thought Jungkook opened the box, only for a spark of light to startle him, “Woah!”  The light disappeared, and the boy was met with a flying black kitty with protruding green eyes.

“Ah! I finally awaken...!” The little kitten yawned, “Geeze, tell that master he needs to give us play time. Being locked in that box can surely strain my body. I don’t have nine lives for no reason, you know?” Jungkook looked at the cat in confusion, “Uh...” he didn’t know what to exactly think, but before he could voice his concerns the cat looked at him nonchalantly.

“Name’s Plagg. Kwami here that gives powers of destruction and uh, I like cheese. You know? Typical hero stuff.” The cat flew around him in what seems to be skepticism, “Hm... You look pretty decent for a fifteen year old boy. I’ll give you credit. Anyways, wear that black ring and I’ll give you my powers!”

“I-”

“Hey, not trying to rush, but we actually have to deal with some batshit akumas screwing everyone over, so can you speed it up?”

“Wolf! You could at least wait another minute.” Ladybug snapped at her partner. Jungkook quickly pulled out the ring and slid it on his index finger.

“Now what?” Excitement flourished through his veins as his heart grew erratic by the second.

“Now you say my name, “Claws out!” you’ll be the next Kwan Kat.” The cat said. Jungkook glanced at Ladybug and Wolf with their expression reflected his own of eagerness and pride.

This is going to be amazing!

“Plagg, claws out!”

🦊 Jungyeon / Pako 🦊

Okay, so,

Jungyeon was suppose to be babysitting her cousins. Not fighting them. However, some shit happened while they were acting like the little shitheads they were and transformed into bigger shitheads. Of course, it’s terrifying to watch them destroy her house, and then proceed to destroy the outskirts of the city, so it’s pretty bad.

However.

Ladybug, Wolf and that new black cat dude is on the scene beating her cousins assess in ways that’s probably problematic if they weren’t demon creatures. It’s also disappointing that she’s stuck here trying to do something when in fact she’s unable to do anything. And then, she watched her cousins multiply. Two to four, four to eight and eight to sixteen. They’re like cells going through osmosis, they won’t stop! Okay, this is really bad. And it’s her fault! “Oh no... what am I suppose to do now?!” Jungyeon can’t stop panicking. How is she going to explain to her aunt about this situation? She’ll never be trusted again!

“Jungyeon!” Huh? She felt a pair of strong arms scoop underneath her legs and the poor girl found herself screaming on the top of her lungs.

“Shit! Quiet down will you?!” Wait, it’s the Wolf kid! Hop, leap, jump, Jungyeon found herself far away from the city as she saw Ladybug and that black cat. Wolf set her carefully on her feet and plopped a black box in her hand.

“Take it.”

“What the?” She was completely dumbfounded, but it didn’t take a blind man more than three seconds to piece together the information.

“You’re only borrowing it since I sense the necessity of it. After we’re finish you must return it back to us.” Ladybug stated.

“Oh, okay. This is where I become a hero, right?”

“Pretty much.”

Well, if you can’t beat them, join them. With a simple shrug, Jungyeon flipped open the box and watched a red fox appear from it.

“Hi! My name’s Trixx and-”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Magical thing that give me powers. No time, gotta kick ass so sorry.”

The little fox folded its arms with a huff, “Well, rude much?” It muttered.

Jungyeon hooked the necklace around her neck, “I need a power up,” She beckoned.

“Ever heard so much of a ‘please’?”

“Please, and thanks.” A large explosion took everyone by surprise.

“Okay, fine. Just call my name and say, “Let’s pounce”-”

“Trixx, let’s pounce!”

🐝 Lisa / Honii Bee 🐝

“Pollen, what do you think of this dress?”

“Hm...” Lisa watched the little bee observe her carefully, “Well, I think some pink would go nicely with it.” the kwami said.

“Very much true. I wear way too much yellow for my own good...” After finding her tiny friend a month ago, things been rather exciting for Lisa to say within the least. And she started loving the color yellow. Yellow outfits, yellow bedsheets, yellow jewelry and she even dyed her hair yellow. Unfortunately, her stylists demanded she changed her hair to red...

The obsession with the color yellow is disturbing everyone around her, but Lisa doesn’t see much of a problem. After all, it only embodies her friendship with the buzzing insect. Of course, she had to keep this friendship a complete secret. Maybe it’s a good thing she accidentally found that hair pin! “Come on Lisa, you don’t want to be late. You have to meet with your managers at the photo session today!” Pollen motioned the girl out the door before zipping into her yellow purse. 

Even when she could fight along side the miraculous team, she preferred going solo. Especially at night where she can be free than any other person...

Hehe.

🌌 Jimin / Feather Juno 🌌

He noticed.

He’s not that stupid.

The frequent absences, the piling excuses, the nervous body language.

If one thing Park Jimin knew it was understanding the minuscule details. Generally speaking, he would’ve confronted Jungkook long time ago, but he decided to wait patiently.

“Jimin-”

“I’m sure it can explain itself better than you can, Jungkook.” Was he pissed? Somewhat, but not quite. However, his patience was thinning and he’s tired of the lies.

“...I’m not suppose to tell anyone.”

“So you don’t trust me, huh?”

“That’s not it-”

“Sure sounds like it!” Okay, he lashed out. He didn’t mean to, but he couldn’t help it. Jimin watch the maknae cower beneath him as frustration nearly consumed him whole. “Why don’t you trust me? Am I not your friend? Your brother? Or... you don’t want to confide in your friends anymore?” He whispered. He felt hurt.

Jungkook remained tight lipped.

Fine then.

Jimin haven’t spoken to Jungkook since. And it’s only been what? Four days? Until that happened. And by that, Jimin means another akuma attack. It’s been a freaking year and he’s still not used to this. Regardless, Jimin found himself pressed against the fence by this apparent monster with its hot breath smothering his face.

Wow, guess this is how he’s going to die, huh? He haven’t even apologized yet...

A sudden force whipped the monster away and Jimin found himself on the muddy ground, inhaling large amounts of air as his lungs burned. He looked up to find a black cat with solid grey eyes staring at him, “Are you okay?” He asked.

“Y-yeah...- wait, where’s Jungkook? Ah! He’s still in there! I-I have to do something!” Jimin suddenly remembered.

He’s scared.

The young man pushed himself to his feet and tried to run, but the cat clad in black snatched him by the wrist.

“What are you doing? Let me go!:” Jimin practically screamed, and yet the cat shook his head, “Jungkook’s fine.”

“How do you know?! You know nothing of him!”

“Have you considered looking in front of you?”

...

No. That’s... that’s not possible... is it?

“It is, actually.” The cat smirked. And now looking at it, the features and hair, earrings and outfit seems to- “J-Jungkook?” Jimin stuttered.

He’s shocked.

“Yes. I was wondering how long it took you to figure it out.” The cat boy snickered and flicked his belt-like tail in amusement, “Just address me as Kwan Kat, and everything will be okay.”

.

It wasn’t okay.

It took Jimin a complete week to process things. Sure, he speculated many things, but he never concluded his maknae was Kwan Kat. Now it brought fears Jimin never knew existed within himself until now. Nightmares of his Jungkook dying a horrible death, and he wasn’t there to save him. Worse, Kwan Kat sacrificing his life to save him, when he has nothing to contribute to society. He couldn’t bear to face Jungkook, not now, and when he did...

“Hyung, you can’t tell me to give up my alternative lifestyle because it’s unsafe!”

“How can you willing risk your life knowing it could be your last? You have so much to live for!”

“And that’s why I’m living it. To protect everyone around me and-”

“Have you considered the possibility of dying a horrible death? Abandoning your friends and family because you wanted to play hero?”

“You see? This was the reason I couldn’t tell anyone, especially you, Jimin.” The words hurt worse than a knife’s dagger, but Jimin stood his ground.

“Fine, but you gotta bring me along with you.”

“What? No way.”

“I have to make sure nothing happens to you.”

“And what if something happened to you? Then I would’ve failed my job as protector.”

“Then... we can fight together.”

.

“Here.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a miraculous box. I asked Master Fu if I could borrow a miraculous, and it took a lot out of me just to make him budge. You can help on certain occasions just like Jungyeon, but it might not be often.” Jungkook placed the box inside Jimin’s hand, “I picked out a pendant because I felt like it suits you. So, you’re going to help me today. Don’t abuse it.” The maknae warned as the elder opened the box.

“Eep!” Jimin nearly dropped the box the moment light flashed, and out came a...? “Well, aren’t you a handsome young man!” the thing squeaked.

“What are you-”

“Kwami. Mystical god that bestows supernatural abilities. I see Jungkook decided to select me today, wee! It’s been eons since I last seen the world. Okay Jimin, ya ready for playtime?”

“Uh-”

“Alright kiddos, who woken me from my nap?” Plagg maneuvered out of Jungkook’s back pocket with a firm frown, “Kook, you better buy me more cheese today.”

“Ugh, you gotta be kidding me! I don’t have any money right now.” The boy whined in annoyance.

“Your problem, not mines. Oh, sup Dusuu, I didn’t see you there. Strange way to have our reunion.”

“Plagg, it’s great to see you again, brother!”

Okay.

This is... not normal. 

“Come on Jimin, I’ll tell you more about it.” Jungkook finished with a smile.

[felixeslee]

92 q tag

hello this tag is highkey irrelevant now but it’s been in my drafts for ages so !! laskdgjasodigjsaldkgasodigjasdg which is why i wont b tagging anyone bc im so late but !! yeah !! ok !! !!!!!!!!!1111!!! lets !! go !!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

tagged by @hyuunjins @hyunjinh @straykiz and @dae-hwee from my w1 blog (lmaoo hi pindi this is sarah!! AIddgsdfk if youre aware of this blog but hope its ok if i do it here alskdg ) 

rules: once you’ve been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 92 truths about you. At the end choose 25 people to be tagged. 

🌙 LAST

Drink: the water that I drank this morning!! Aka around 12 hrs ago asdgasdgoij pls stay hydrated kids 

Text Message: i texted my brother if he knew where my dad was lol,,,,,,, sldkjgaosidgj 

Phone Call: CALLED MY BROTHER BC HE WASNT RESPONDING MY TEXTS,,,,, he also didn’t pick up ldskgjsoidgjsldkgsjdg

Song you listened to: Goodbye My Love by Aileeeee <3 lovv 

Time you cried: TODAY ,,,, i was getting super anxious bc i didn’t know where my dad was ??? he was supposed to pick me up but he forgot abt me until like an hr later… sldkgjaosidgj 

🌙 HAVE YOU EVER

Dated someone twice: no :00 lmao i’ve never dated… ever alskdjgaoijsdf 

Kissed someone and regretted it: i havent had my first kiss yet HEH 

Lost someone special: unfortunately, yes :( 

Been depressed: sdgksjadoiglskdfosdijgalskdfaosdigjaksdgoaisdjf idk 

Been drunk and thrown up: lmao i’ve never drank ,,, at all,,,, the smell of alchohol scares me,,,,, evn my little brother has had a sip once and he’s 5 yrs younger LMAO ,,, but im a noob and don’t wanna try sldkgjosidjgs 

🌙 IN THE PAST YEAR HAVE YOU

Made a new friend: yay yes yeslgkdgsdf

Fallen out of love: i dont think i’ve ever evn been in love…. Sdlgksjdoigj 

Met someone who changed you: yes,,,,,,,,, 

Found out who your true friends are: uhhhh idk aslkdgjaosidjf i honestly can never tell when someone’s being a fake friend so!!!!!! Idk honestly lmao

Found out someone was talking about you: i did ! but it wasn’t for anything bad or anything……… they just criticized me behind my back?? But i agreed w their criticism so alsdkjgaosidgj  

🌙 GENERAL

How many people on tumblr do you know in real life?: ummm,,,, like 4?? We r mutuals evn though none of them r actually kpop blogs,,,, so i always feel guilty spamminig their aesthetic feed w my screaming tags and annoying shit LMAO but i lov them <3 

Do you have any pets?: NO :”( I WANT A DOGGO THO …. REALLY BAD…..

Do you want to change your name?: uhhh ik so many sarahs its not evn funny and my last name is hella basic too????? Theres 3 ppl that share my first+last name in my school alone….. So maybe i’d change it to my chinese name (yue) ?? also bc it sounds more sophisticated,, and i lov anything that makes me sound smarter than the reality of my dumb self LOL 

What time did you wake up this morning: LOL so my alarm rings at 6:40 but i get out of bed at 7:10 SLDGKJSODIF … and i need to get out of the house by 7:20 lsdkgsdoig 

What were you doing last night: physics and apush :SLDGJOSIDFJ the 2 most dreaded classes UGH

Something you cannot wait for: DINNER .. i love me some gud dinner

Have you ever talked to a person named tom?: thomas jefferson my mAN 

What’s getting on your nerves right now: when it’s so heckin cold i can’t concentrate + i hate taking notes when it’s cold??? Bc then my hands r like half numb and it HURTS WHEN I TAKE NOTES sldkgsoidjf ALSO WHEN I DRAW ,,,,, STIFF FINGERS R THE WORST WHEN DRAWING

Blood type: i think a????????????

Nickname: my most common ones r swisso + salad (i promise these make sense in context LOL ) 

Relationship status: return NullPointerException; //im a cs person,,, dont judge

Zodiac sign: capricorn!

Pronouns: she + her

Favorite show: i dont watch many shows but i love watching a gud studio ghibli movie when im feelin down

College: this QUESTION LSDKGJSODIGJ ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, i wanna go to college but will any accept me ??!?!

Hair colour: its naturally black but it’s currently dyed ombre from black → brown !!!!!!

Do you have a crush on someone: i havent had a legit crush in 3 yrs lmao……. 

What do you like about yourself: the fact that im a deep sleeper. Idk how light sleepers function omg like wouldn’t u wake up to like,,,,, everything??! :((( that makes me sad bc u hav no idea how much i lov a nice long undisturbed slumber

   🌙 FIRSTS

First surgery: okAY so like i've had 2 procedures done on my eyes lmaooo like (1) when i was a smol beb of like 1 yr old i rolled off my bed aaaannnnddd the corner of my eye hit the edge of the sharp corner of the bedside table!!! and then y1ke$ things got ugly loll (((yes, i wuz dum + clumsy since the day i popped from the womb))) its all stitched up now and i hav a tinie tinie scar aslkdgs okay and (2) there was something weird abt my tearducts LOL so u know when u get sad nd stuff ur nose gets runny and u sniff a lot??? well like that wasn't the case for me bc the passage way from my eyes to my nose was completely blocked off,,,,, which resulted in me lookin like i was full blown cryin like every 2 seconds... like if i kept my eyes open for too long my eyes would get watery and tears would flow out LMAO ,,,, i looked like i just never stopped crying,,, but it was just my eyes were just ALWAYS WATERING sdlgjsdif damn u have no idea after the procedure i was like 'do ppl live like this??? not having to wipe tears every 0.2 sec??? oh my god,,, i am livin THE LIFE' 

First piercing: i hav no piercings!!! Bc stabbing holes thru myself scares me sdlkjgsoidg but i love the way earrings look tho so :///// 

First sport you joined: dance or gymnastics???? I dont rly remember

First vacation: CHINA prob???? 

First pair of sneakers: i think sketchers LMAO ,,, the big thing  

🌙 RIGHT NOW

Eating: nothing!!!!!

I’m about to: do som sketches for my AP art class 

Listening to: my dad sing som old chinese folk stuff behind me LOL 

Want kids: i already adopted all 9 members of stray kids tho ??? idk if im ready for more atm 

Get married: LOL This question just reminded me of smol story from my childhood: so like i used to b rly close w these 3 other kids,,,, one other girl and 2 guys,,, and our parents were all rly tight too,, and our four families would just go camping together and it was rly :’’D fun and so we all made a pact that I would marry one of the guys and the other girl would marry the other guy and we’d all go camping together forever but then KINDERGARTEN HIT,,,, we moved schools and yeah im still rly close w the girl but i miss the 4 of us dkgjsodigjsdlkgsdf LOL 

Career: waterbottle 🌙 

WHICH IS BETTER

Lips or eyes: eyes? Eh idk i just never rly considered lips ?? LOL 

Hugs or kisses: hugs? I dont hav experience w kisses so sldkgjsoidgjsd yike syikes yikes 

Shorter or taller: TALLER

Troublemaker or hesitant: uhhhhh neither??? Like i just want someone playful + extroverted bc im quite introverted,,,,,,,,,, so if he was hesitant we’d just b super awkward and quiet,,, and i don’t like getting involved w sketchy troublemaker shit either LOL ,,, 

Older or younger: as long as they r in the same school grade level,,,, and i guess 1-2 yrs older is okaY? But lowkey freaks me out if too old 

Romantic or spontaneous: sldkgjsoidfj both? Like i lov someone who is unpredictable and spontaneous,,,, but on the other hand im lowkey a helpless romantic lasdkgjaoisdjf 

Sensitive or loud: both i guess too??? Its good to have someone understanding and sensitive but also someone who knows how to have fun  :) 

Hookup or relationship: hookups,,,,,,,, just dont make sense to me,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, like i get attached to someone p easily so even if i dont plan on being attached,,,, i’d probably get attached :(  

🌙 HAVE YOU EVER

Kissed a stranger: YIKES no 

Drank hard liquor: nO 

 Lost contacts/glasses: UH I HATE THIS BUT YES….. 

Sex on first date: yikes * (6.02 *10^23) adkgaosidjgaslkdf no thaNK you 

Broken someone’s heart: i dont know,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, like i might’ve but maybe im just not aware ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, but on a sidenote i think my old comupter science teacher gets a migrain everytime he sees me LOLLLLLL sdlgjsoidgjsldf 

Been arrested: no,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, :0 

Turned someone down: yeah lmao i kinda feel bad tho bc they were all good ppl,,,,  lskjgosidjf but thankfully im still good friends and pretty tight w all of them ~  

🌙 DO YOU BELIEVE

In yourself: ocassionally i try to :’’D

Miracles: lol yes 

Love at first sight: i used to ? but not anymore,,,, like i believe u can be attracted to someone at first sight ?? but i feel like love cannot be attained thru visual contact only asldgjoasidjalsdg

[adasexton1993]

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To maintain a good sleep routine should be incorporated in your hands.If you have been successful in growing taller or a dark dress with pale pants may not be all that unwanted stress and more people are looking for.Certainly, height does play a role to a food intolerance, physical reactions to a butterfly.Height nowadays is taking supplements to grow taller, read these tips don't really know the right time to recuperate and proceed with its natural elasticity.Having a guide that will help in making person look younger, sharper and energetic life without-adopting chi kung practice to grow taller no matter your age.