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keelywolfe · 4 years ago

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FIC: Welcome To Backwater ch.2 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Stretch isn’t running away, not really.

He took the bus.

Only to end up in a little town in the middle of nowhere, meeting unusual people, dealing with unexpected happenings, what the hell is going on in this place?

Content: Spicyhoney, Midwest Gothic

Note: Just as a heads up, I'd give this story a warning for mild horror and mild gore. None of our boys, but better to let y'all know!

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Read Chapter Two ‘Meet and Greet’ on AO3

Read it here!

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For the next week Stretch spent most of his time trying to figure out the method in the madness to Red’s store management. His first day of ‘training’ pretty much consisted of Red showing up long enough to demo the cash register and then shuffling off to the apartment at the back where he lived. Not that pushing a couple of numbered buttons was that complicated, but that wasn’t the only issue cropping up around here along with the local corn.

First of all, nothing in the shop was priced. All the items were recorded in a ragged notebook with coffee ring stains on the cover, where Stretch got to figure out if an item fell under the category of ‘toilet paper’, ‘paper, toilet’, ‘ass wipers’, or ‘shitty ass wipers’, all written in Red’s sloppy handwriting. The sheer number of items that fell under ‘ass’ and ‘shitty’ were staggering.

Turned out, the little store actually did a fair amount of business. Plenty of Humans stopped in to pick up one or two things rather than drive to the nearest Wally World which according to Granny Collemore, who Stretch was guessing was the unofficial town gossip, was better than a thirty-minute drive away.

“Don’t need to be driving an hour for a little bum tissue,” she bellowed happily, “shopping day is Sunday, we’ll stock up then!”

Stretch nodded as he rang her up, wincing away from her volume. He’d figured out pretty quickly that the old woman was stone deaf, but she didn’t seem to care if all she got was a smile and plenty of nods, so that was fine.

She handed over a wad of cash pulled from a little embroidered change purse that let out a puff of lavender so strong when she opened it that it overshadowed the store’s normal musty smell, hollering the whole time. By the time she left, Stretch knew enough about the local weather patterns to make a rain prediction and that the way someone named Pritchard was hamming on a pretty young’un Eloise meant they’d best they be married soon ‘fore it turned into a shotgun wedding. He nodded along with every proclamation, hurrying around the counter to open the door for her and ended up spending five minutes waiting for her to shuffle her way out, her bunny slippers leading the way.

But as she was leaving, she reached up and gave him a gentle pat on the cheekbone, her wrinkled hand barely able to reach. “You’re a nice boy,” she told him, too loud and with a pink, gummy smile.

Stretch was too startled to flinch away and only managed to mumble a thank you as she headed off into the growing heat of the morning, a hunched figure in a flowery dress and pink slippers, her bag of emergency tp bumping against her hip as she trundled along.

That was another thing. He’d thought that the Humans around here would be distrustful, even malicious, but that wasn’t proving to be the case. Aside from a little surprise when they first saw him, all the customers so far were small-town kindly. Kids came into the shop to raid the nickel-candy rack, their bikes left in piles outside as excited groups came roaring in. Mothers came in with babies wearing only their diapers, fanning themselves and laughing out their, ‘my, isn’t it a hot one today?’ as they bought a half-gallon of milk and some fresh apples to put in the bottom of their strollers.

No one in town seemed to care that he was a Monster past asking his name and maybe it was just ‘cause of Red being a skeleton, too. Could be that Granny Collemore was out there somewhere bellowing that the local shopkeeper had family visiting, who knew? It was sure different than he was used to. The general sentiment in Ebott about Monsters was resentment; over them taking jobs, enrolling in the schools, whatever it was, they didn’t want Monsters doing it.

It was…nice, he decided, to not have someone dislike him on sight.

That was how he spent his mornings. He worked in the shop, idly dusting, putting away the deliveries that a guy in the pickup truck and overalls brought in daily, and borrowing Red’s wifi to listen to soft music on his phone. The calls had trickled to only once a day and the glaring red alert number of his messages kept climbing.

Stretch didn’t look at them, only skipped right over to Spotify and the 'The Wedding Singer Divorce Special pt 2' playlist.

Red came in every day to relieve him at around two. He grunted out something that resembled a hello as he heaved himself up on the stool, leaning his cane against it as he pulled out a battered romance novel from beneath the counter. The creased covered did not in the slightest hide the young, scantily-clad woman caught up in a fiery embrace with her highland Lord.

“be back later,” Stretch said as he hung up his apron. Not that it mattered, wasn’t like Red was his dad or even a friend, not really, and he didn’t care when Stretch came home. A couple times they’d eaten together, takeout from the local diner that was imaginatively called ‘Mama’s’, not ‘Eats’, watched a little but that was it. His lack of idle chitchat was the complete opposite of Blue’s constant stream of chatter and after years of that, the silence was kinda disconcerting, but maybe not in a bad way.

Red didn’t even look up from his book, only pulled a crumpled bill out of his pocket and pushed it across the counter, “pick up some beer at the station, wouldja?”

“sure,” Stretch said, almost grateful for something else to do. It was miles better than sitting the rest of the day in his little room with its faded, floral wallpaper where the air conditioning wasn’t quite able to combat the heat of the mid-afternoon sun. He’d done that once, the first day, and after that made a point of staying out of his room until sundown to give it chance to cool off.

The town itself wasn’t much more than a bunch of ramshackle houses. To the west were fields, the leafy tops of what Stretch was now certain was corn rustling in the wind. Off to the east, the landscape slowly went from flat plains to trees, their wilting leaves yellowing in the heat and ending in a wooded area that surrounded maybe half the town. Shame it was too far away provide much shade unless you went walking right into it. Main street consisted of a few other public buildings; a tractor store right up next to the thrift shop, a little one-room schoolhouse with an attached shed that served as the town library, the Sheriff’s office, and the movie theater.

On the outskirts of town there was also a bar, The Whistling Cow, its glowing neon sign a single point of orange light on dark nights. As much as Stretch wanted a drink, he stuck with filching beer from the cooler Red kept under the counter. Hanging around with strange, drunk humans usually didn't end well for him.

The movie theater was where he’d taken to heading after work. Someone with a sense of humor must’ve named the place, since ‘The Grandeur’ literally only had one theater and maybe thirty seats, if that. The proprietor ran the ticket booth and the concession stand, and in his threadbare uniform with its yellowing shirt, he looked a lot like Lurch's second cousin, once removed.

But he was a nice enough fella and it was a good way to waste some time. Even if the only movies showing were old black and whites, the popcorn was fresh, with real butter, and the added bonus of air conditioning. Besides, the Three Stooges were funny as shit any old day.

That was where Stretch was headed today; the afternoon showing only cost two bucks, then another for popcorn and he was set for a few hours. It was better than trying to get anything to tune in on the television in his overboiled room. With a lot of coaxing, he might manage to get a PBS channel, but there was only so much time a person could spend sweating their way through a staticky version of Sesame Street.

Stretch got to his seat just as the lights were going down, settling in with his popcorn. Before the movie there were a few cartoons, and it was kinda wild to get to see Steamboat Willy chugging along on the big screen again.

Today’s flick was an honest to bitsy silent movie and Stretch watched with a wide grin as Charlie Chaplin slap-schticked his way across the stage. There were a few other people in the seats, at least one of them snoring; probably only came to get out of the summertime heat.

But it wasn’t really the movie he was here for. Not today.

He’d seen her the first time he came. Sitting in the far back row, not that uncommon, some people liked to sit far away. No one else seemed to notice her and that wasn’t strange either. Normally even he didn’t pay much attention to anyone else in the theater, who did? So long as a person was quiet, made no ripples in the pond, no one saw them. Movies were for escapism, not to make new friends.

But this lady. To begin with, her clothes were about a century out of date, with her pink suit and matching pillbox hat, her white gloves, and whenever the house lights came up while they switch the reel, she vanished without even a shimmer of dust motes, only returning once the darkness did.

He’d been back three times so far and she’d been in the theater for every showing. Sitting on her own watching the flick, always in the same seat. This time, Stretch was sitting in the seat next to it. He munched his buttery popcorn and watched as Charlie Chaplin-ed his way through the movie. He didn’t have to wait long.

None of the Humans noticed. The black-and-white light coming from the screen was dim enough that anyone sitting in the audience was nothing but a shadow. Humans tended towards the unobservant side, anyway, none of them had to be as aware of their surroundings as a Monster did, especially one like Stretch with only 5 HP between him and dust.

Besides, there wasn’t any fanfare about it. One minute the chair next to him was empty and the next, a young woman was sitting there, her hands clasped primly in her lap as she looked up at the movie with rapt attention.

“like the movies, huh?” Stretch said, very softly. “always wanted to be an actor myself, but i don’t have the guts for it.”

Waste of a good pun, he didn’t even think the woman had a chance to notice he was a skeleton. She startled, one faintly translucent hand flying to her mouth as if to stifle a scream. Stretch only munched on another piece of popcorn and let her gather her wits or ectoplasm or whatever ghosts had. Wasn’t like he had room to talk, the inside of his skull was as hollow as a drunken apology.

She settled quick enough and asked in a wispy little voice, “you can see me?”

Stretch slouched back and propped his sneakers up on the seat in front of him. “sure. it’s a monster thing. we see things that humans don’t, sometimes.” Or didn’t bother to see, Stretch wasn’t sure which.

“Sometimes they see me,” she admitted. “but they always run away.”

Yeah, Stretch couldn’t really blame them for that one. Humans weren’t used to ghosts, not the way Monsters were, and now that he was sitting up close, he could see the way she flickered a little, that pretty face sometimes flashing onto something else, half still pretty as a picture from an old magazine and the other a bloody ruin. There was a gaping hole on one side of her head, her blonde hair matted into dark clumps, and one blue eye stared out, unseeing. There were flecks scattered on the shoulder of her pink suit, chips of ivory, and Stretch knew enough about bones to recognize skull fragments. Another flicker and it was gone, only a pretty young Human woman looking back at him. The effect was a little off-putting, true, but it wasn’t like she could help it.

Besides, Stretch didn’t have to look. He was watching the movie.

“what’s your name?” he asked, softly.

She hesitated and he wondered if she didn’t want to tell him or if she didn’t know. Her eyes were large, absurdly long lashes sweeping against her cheeks as she considered. When she spoke again her voice was a little stronger, surer, “Doris.”

“doris, my name is stretch,” he told her, “and it is a pleasure to meet you.”

They sat together in silence for a little while. The music coming brightly from the speakers was as cheerful as a carousel, offering happiness and humor when she spoke again abruptly. “I know this is very forward. But. Could you do something for me?”

“maybe,” Stretch said, a little wary. Better not to make promises to unknown ghosts, they could get tetchy.

She smiled, a wry curve of lips as if she could hear his thoughts. “Your popcorn.”

He looked down at the paper cup in his hand, still half-full of buttery kernels. “you want some?” he asked, bemused.

She let out a whispery laugh, like a wind rustling through summer cattails. “No, but. Can I smell it?”

Oh. “sure.” He held the cup out and she leaned over it, inhaling deeply, or, well, looked like she did, he didn’t think ghosts actually breathed, but who knew? When she bent down twin ribbons of blood ran from both her nostrils, dark and slick. It didn’t drip into the popcorn, couldn’t, it wasn’t present in the same way the little carton was, but he felt his appetite fade. He still politely pretended not to notice.

She leaned back with a happy sigh and all signs of the blood were gone. “Thank you. I go behind the counter sometimes to smell it, but it’s not the same.”

“i bet. gotta be in a paper bucket or it ain’t right.” If she could go out to the concession stand, that meant at least she wasn’t stuck sitting in this one seat. Maybe it was just her favorite. “you get out much?” He jerked his head towards the door, “outside, i mean.”

“No,” She shook her head sadly, and her hair brushed her shoulders. “I have to stay in the theater.”

He nodded sympathetically. That was gonna make this a little harder, but not too much. He liked the movies, anyway. “yeah, it works that way sometimes. but hey, i’ll stop back in and see you again. if that’s okay?”

She brightened visibly, coming sharply into focus like a lens turned on a camera, until the chair behind her only barely showing through. “Would you?”

Now that was a vow he could make and Stretch sketched a cross over his chest with a finger and said solemnly, “i promise.”

Their chat must’ve been getting a little loud. Someone was turning around in the front seats. The room was too dark to see, but he didn’t have to witness a glare to feel it. Stretch slouched down in his seat and took the hint.

Hey, he’d made a friend. Well, most of one and it was the important part. A soul without a body was a lot nicer than a body without a soul, hands down.

Which made him wonder about the gas station attendant, because Mitch made Red seem like a warm, outgoing person.

The ancient artwork on the front window of the gas station showed a shiny, smiling attendant in a tidy uniform, his neatly cut hair almost hidden beneath his cap as he held up a dripping gas nozzle in offering. That guy must’ve gotten promoted out of state, because the only dress code Mitch followed was ‘fuck it, looks clean.’ Long, straggly hair poked out from his dirty baseball cap and, of all things, he was reading the New York Times, the business section.

His saving grace was that his disinterest in all customers was universal. Mitch was an equal opportunity kind of guy; he didn’t give a shit about anyone.

Stretch opened the door carefully so that the cowbell only gave a muted clang. He hesitated inside the door and decided to brave a question. Hey, he’d made one friend today, may as well push his luck. “you got any coffee on?”

It was a pretty safe bet, even as hot as it was. Coffee wouldn’t help with the sweat that was already dampening his shirt from walking over from the theater, but Stretch felt a little unsteady from meeting Doris. He could use a dose of caffeine to shore him up.

Mitch didn’t look up from his paper, but he jerked his chin towards the back wall. “Yep, but the only coffee I got is hot. Ain’t no ‘spressos around here, Slick.”

“Hot is fine.” He didn’t bother correcting him on the name. Started with an S, close enough, they’d be best pals in no time. The carafe of coffee smelled surprisingly fresh, considering that Mitch looked like he’d been holding that chair down for a few hours. There was a plastic basket next to the carafe filled with little coffee mate creamer cups. He added four French vanilla, carrying his murky coffee up to the counter with Red’s six-pack. Beer was one thing they didn’t sell at the store, no alcohol at all, something to do with the liquor laws in this county and Red not paying those skinflint jackholes for a license, not on his ass, thanks much.

He paid for both, picked up his change from where Mitch tossed it unhelpfully on the counter and went outside, fumbling out his smokes on the way.

Stretch sat down on the crumbling curb, drinking his coffee and smoking, letting the caffeine and nicotine wash over him in a twin, soothing rush. He’d been trying to cut down with his funds being on the uncertain side, cigarettes were a pricy vice, and he couldn’t bum any from Red the way he did the beers.

The sun was still high overhead pouring down the heat, coming up off the pavement in shimmery waves. Sweat was rising up on his bones, his t-shirt clinging damply to his ribs and spine. Somewhere nearby, he could hear children playing, the hollow thud of a basketball and their laughter carrying on in the still air. He didn’t have anywhere he needed to be, no one’s expectations to live up to.

When his cigarette was done and pinched out, Stretch climbed back to his feet and headed for the grocery to drop off the beers before they got warm. Again, he went easy on the door, keeping the bell to a faint rattle rather than a clang. It was only when he turned around that he saw the front counter was empty, Red’s book bent open on the counter but no skeleton around to pick it back up.

He set the beers on the counter, calling, “red?”

No reply and that was strangely ominous in a little store where even a short skeleton would be hard pressed to hide.

There was a long hallway in the back that led past a couple storerooms to the apartment Red lived in. He gave the storerooms a glance, just in case Red had a sudden urge to restock the sanitary napkin display, and wasn’t very surprised to find them unoccupied. He saw the door to Red’s apartment was open a crack like it never was and that cranked ominous up to sinister. The lingering sweat on his bones was chilling in the air conditioning, but that wasn’t the only reason a sudden shiver rattled him.

“red?” Stretch called weakly as he pushed open the door.

The living room was small with a ratty plaid sofa and a coffee table littered with beer cans and balled up chip bags, and standing in the center of it was a person who was not Red, not unless he got one hell of a growth spurt while Stretch was gone.

Once, Stretch would’ve just taken a shortcut out, right the hell to the Sheriff station down the road and never had he missed the skill more than when the guy-who-was-definitely-not-Red started to turn around. The instinct to teleport was still there even if the ability wasn’t, fizzling out with an aching pain right in the middle of his chest.

It was only a minor distraction and Stretch blundered over to grab a lamp from a side table, yanking the cord right out of the wall as he brandished it over his head like a club, yelling shrilly, “what the fuck are you doing in here?”

The guy turned around, looking back at him with deep crimson eye lights that flicked briefly up to the lamp before meeting his wild gaze. His voice was as smooth and dark as deep water as he stated coolly, “I believe that’s my question.”

Stretch could stare and the only coherent thought amongst the many tangled ones scrambling through his mind was only two words. Simple. Descriptive.

Oh, shit.

-tbc-

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #underfell sans #underswap sans #welcome to backwater

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nuoyipeach · 4 years ago

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Pregnancy (jaejoy os) pt1

21/3/2020

Sooyoung dropped her spoon getting up in a haste, her bowl of cereal falling over as she accidentally hit it and spilled everywhere. She ran off to their bedroom, and Jaehyun heard her slam a door open. He stopped eating and quickly followed behind, and found her in the bathroom leaned over the toilet as she threw up continuously. He went behind her and held her hair back with one hand, the other holding her body up.

"It's OK, slowly... Take it easy baby..."

Sooyoung was on the verge of tears from throwing up so much. Her throat hurt, head spinning, not to mention the horrible feeling in her stomach. She grabbed her tummy with one hand while had other held her up from practically falling into the toilet.

After a few minutes, she seemed better as she simply breathed heavily. Jaehyun slowly held her up and took her to the sink, helping her wash her face and gargle. He then picked her up bridal style and took her to bed, before going back to the toilet to flush and clean up. He returned to see her laying sideways and heard her sniffle. Sitting behind her, he looked over her shoulder to see her crying. He held her hand over her tummy, slowly laying upright next to her, slipping his other arm underneath her to hold her close.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm... I don't know... I feel bad... I don't know anymore..."

Jaehyun left soft kisses on her cheek, shoulder and hand, then he'd her tighter with his head in the crook of her neck. "Don't cry. I'm here." he knew why she cried. He realised a pattern, that whenever she threw up, she'd have a mood swing right after.

Sooyoung held his hand tighter and tighter, afraid that if she let go she'd lose him. For some reason she had a fear of him leaving, because she was pregnant.

She threw up, which was disgusting. She was starting to lose her attractive figure. She wouldn't be able to attend his needs. She was becoming a load to take care off, finding herself burdensome.

What if he doesn't love me anymore?

"I heard that." she heard him say, and realised she said the last line out loud. "And your wrong. If I didn't love you, I would've left you the moment I found out you were pregnant. Also, why wouldn't I love my own wife? This baby is mine too. I'm more than happy we're having a baby. Don't do this Sooyoung. Don't think like this."

Sooyoung slowly turned to his side, burying her face into his chest. Jaehyun brushed her hair with one hand, and traced her slightly protruding tummy with the other. It has only been three months, but he was already craving to hold the baby, wanting it out soon. He wasn't lying when he said he loved it. He was so overwhelmed with joy, that he almost held a party if not for Sooyoung's protest.

"Come on, you still need to eat something. What do you feel like having that won't make you sick?"

Sooyoung moved her face away slightly and played with his tank top thinking. A lot of things made her nauseous, even milk like earlier. Whatever she thought of made her feel sick, and that made her sadder because she couldn't find something to eat.

"I don't know..." she teared up. Jaehyun sighed and kissed her head, wiping away her tears.

"I'll make you a strawberry smoothie. How's that?"

Not feeling sick, Sooyoung decided to just go with it and nodded. Jaehyun got up and tucked her in, handing her the TV remote. "Stay here, I'll be right back." he smiled and kissed her before leaving. Sooyoung turned on a random cartoon channel, but simply thought about Jaehyun the whole time. He was so perfect in everything that she couldn't think about one small flaw even. Even his skin was too perfect.

Sooyoung heard him say all the same to her, but that was before she got pregnant. Now, she wondered whether he thought about her the same way. Or did his feelings change. She can't help think this way. Her mood swings were horrible, and she could only be thankful Jaehyun was calm enough to deal with her.

"Here." she turned to see jaehyun back with strawberry smoothie, and a bowl of gelatto. "Since you're getting sick to diary, maybe this will be better."

Sooyoung sat up smiling as he placed the tray next to her and sat at the edge of the bed. He first gave her some medicine, then the smoothie. She drank it up, finishing halfway in one go, and heard him chuckle amused.

"Damn. I should make more next time, you are going eating twice as much from now on."

Jaehyun instantly regretted his words when she slammed the cup down.

"Are you calling me fat?" she asked upset. He shook his head smiling, and held her hand.

"Of course not. You have to eat a lot. It's for the baby. We don't want either of you weak, right?"

Sooyoung looked down to her hands, when he suddenly spooned some gelatto and fed her. She looked at him, and decided to ask what's been bothering her the whole time.

"Do you think I'm perfect to you like I was before?"

Jaehyun furrowed his eyebrows confused and set the bowl down. "What do you mean?"

"You always called me perfect, pretty, healthy fit, graceful... But you don't anymore... Am I ugly now that I'm pregnant? I mean, I know I'm breaking out a little on my forehead, and I lost shape, but it's not that bad right? I've been gobbling up food though... I must look unattractive now to people. I feel so down..."

Before she could say anymore, Jaehyun jumped onto her pushing her down and hovered above her, making sure not to put pressure on her body. He pressed his lips onto hers, and bit on her bottom lip sucking it.

Their make out session was quick as Jaehyun pulled away and turned then over, having Sooyoung straddle his lap as they both sat up. He continued to kiss her, lips, cheek, nose, jaw, collar, neck, even until the valley of her breasts, her low cut night dress giving him easy access. He nuzzled into her chest, one hand on her back, and another tracing her tummy again.

"I'm sorry if I didn't say it to you up front. I'll be honest with you, but you're even more beautiful when you're pregnant. I don't care about your fit body, your break outs, your eating habits. Your body is perfect for our baby, your face is always pretty to me no matter what, and your eating habits are adorable, because you're eating for two people now. You're always perfect to me. Everything happening to you is natural, and that's what I love about you, so you're perfect. I don't want you to change a thing."

He kissed her exposed skin above her breasts, slowly going back up to her lips to see her cheeks stained with tears. He kissed them away before attaching their lips again, Sooyoung's hands finally leaving his tank top and gripping his hair and around his neck as she too pulled him closer.

"I need more strawberries!"

Sooyoung whined kicking the blanket. Six and a half months and her cravings were getting worse, as did her mood swings. She got mad too easily, to the point Jaehyun decided to work from home since she'd get upset of him leaving her alone.

Right now he checked the fridge but they ran out. He sighed and closed it, going back to the bedroom where Sooyoung laid sprawled across the bed.

"We're out baby. How about we both go down to the grocery store and get some? You must feel sad staying in all the time."

Sooyoung huffed not wanting to get up, crossing her arms and pouting. But Jaehyun could only chuckle because he knew she'd listen. He knew she'd been feeling sad staying in a lot since she was scared to go out, so going out once today would help her open up a little. And she knows that he knew that she'd go anyways. He sat next to her and opened his arms.

"Come here." he cooed. Being extra emotional now, Jaehyun would try to show affection to her even more seeing that it made her happy. Sooyoung looked at him with a big smile and slowly got up scooting closer. She snuggled into his embrace, her bump pressing against his side where he felt a kick, and squealed. "See, even the baby loves my cuddles."

Sooyoung looked up and grinned at him. "What can I say. Your cuddles are the best. But not to be shared outside us, got that?" she commanded, making him laugh and nod. He got up and slowly helped her stand as well, passing her her coat as he put his on himself.

"I'll walk you, don't worry. But it's time to go out and get some fresh air, especially for you."

They were soon out walking around the neighbourhood to the grocery store. Sooyoung really enjoyed the outdoors from being inside for so long. The fresh air really helped her feel better. Though she was taking a long time to walk, Jaehyun didn't care and walked with her, an arm around her waist holding her close to him. Any passerby around them could tell what kind of a happy family they already were, and could only imagine how happy they would be more when the baby comes out.

Once at the store, Sooyoung decided to sit on the benches at the entrance while Jaehyun did the shopping since he didn't want her to walk around too much. Sooyoung's place was at the opening, near the counter that she could hear them. She was playing with her phone, going through some things when she saw a text from Jaehyun saying he's almost at the cashier. Sooyoung was about to get up when she over heard the cashier talking into her phone.

"Yea he's here again. You know, pale tall guy, built and has dimples. I can never ever focus... Oh my God, he's coming, gotta go!"

Sooyoung looked and saw Jaehyun making his way to the cash register, and noticed the way the young lady, obviously a new adult, suddenly became all shy and flirty. Jaehyun placed the basket on the counter and smiled, being the polite man he was, while she looked through the items.

"Wow, so many strawberries again. You must really like them." she tried to converse. Jaehyun chuckled and was about to answer, when someone called him.

"Hyunnie, did you get my strawberries?"

Both the cashier and Jaehyun looked to see Sooyoung come and hold his hand. Sooyoung peeked and saw the girl's smile drop, especially when she saw her baby bump. Jaehyun chuckled and kissed her forehead.

"Enough for two weeks this time. Then we won't have to come out again." he joked. Sooyoung scowled at him, then peeked again to see the cashier glare at her, scanning the products faster this time. She rested her head on his shoulder and hugged Jaehyun's arm, and he knew there was only one reason behind her clingy behaviour, and this wasn't only when she's pregnant, but since they were together three years ago.

She was jealous.

Once she was done packing their things up, Jaehyun gave his (black) card and waited for her to swipe it, when he decided to have some fun.

"You should smile more, you look prettier."

He felt a sharp pain in his arm as Sooyoung dug her nails into it, and bit his bottom lip holding in the yelp. The girl pressed her lips holding in a smile and blushed, losing focus for a second. She quickly got back, and gave them the bag, and before anymore was exchanged, Sooyoung dragged Jaehyun away the moment he took his card back.

Jaehyun chuckled as she ignored him on the way home. But he noticed how she wasn't angry like usual, but she was sad. He felt bad for teasing her, but couldn't get her to talk even when they reached home. Sooyoung went to the bedroom, and Jaehyun followed after putting away the groceries, finding her laid down facing away from the door. He laid down next to her, and tried to hug her but she pushed his arms off.

"Baby, what's wrong?"

"You've been seeing someone... And it's that cashier sl*t!"

Jaehyun felt hurt, but it was partly his fault. He knew he shouldn't be teasing her like this during her last few weeks, especially when she was naturally protective of him. He sighed and hugged her tight so that she couldn't let go this time, and kissed her shoulder and neck.

"I'm sorry I teased you. But it's not true. I don't even know her name, she's just always working there, so I became familiarised. I'd never do that to you baby, you know it. Look at me, please."

Sooyoung couldn't, as she was hiding her face into the pillow with a smaller one on top because she couldn't stop crying. Jaehyun snaked an arm under her head, and pulled her over to turn around to him. He pulled the top pillow away and tried to face her, but she forced her face down and hid in his chest.

"Baby please, trust me. I shouldn't have teased you. I'm sorry Sooyoung, look at me just please, you don't have to talk to me."

Sooyoung wrapped an arm around his torso, cuddling more into him, face burying into his chest. Jaehyun smiled lightly and held her close as well, his arm under head head combing her hair back.

"You know, with you and Sohyun later around, I don't think I'll be able to look let alone talk to any other girl." he chuckled trying to lighten the mood. Sooyoung just sighed, suddenly whining silently before sitting up. Jaehyun could tell she felt uncomfortable about something. "What's wrong?"

"It's just..." her left hand went up to the top of her right breast, pressing into it. "It hurts here..."

Jaehyun took her hand off and kissed it. "You're lactating. Remember the doctor said it would hurt sometimes since they're growing." he slowly shifted to sit behind her, trapping her between his legs. "I'll massage, here."

He started to softly press down her shoulders, putting small pressures with his fingers at wherever he felt knots. Slowly he shifted his hands to the top of her breasts where she claimed it hurt, and gently pressed down. Sooyoung flinched in discomfort, and he mumbled a quiet sorry before massaging more gently.

Sooyoung leaned back against his chest, her head falling back on his shoulder as she tried to relax. His hands slowly went underneath her breasts, massaging them gently there. "Better?" he asked and pecked her forehead.

"Hmm... Thank you..." she mumbled. Jaehyun stopped, and wrapped his arms around her chest hugging her, and continued kissing her neck.

"I love everything about you..."

"What do you mean?" she asked, confused by his sudden confession.

His hands started to move up to her hair, combing it down. "I love your hair."

Poked her nose. "I love seeing your face."

Rubbed and kissed her shoulder. "I love touching your skin."

Held her hand. "I love your delicate hands."

Held her breast, and her tummy. "I love that you're going through all this for our baby. Your breasts, tummy, hips are getting bigger. I know how uncomfortable you are, but you're going through with it for our baby. I can't love you enough for all this."

Sooyoung looked down at their hands as he held both hers around her tummy, and continuously kissed her from head to shoulder. She slowly faced him when he suddenly rubbed his nose on hers lovingly.

"Jaehyun, why are my mood swings so bad... I hate it. I feel like I'm disturbing you... And even to myself, I hate it."

Jaehyun sighed and kissed both her hands before hugging her again, and swung side to side.

"I don't find it a nuisance. But I'm sorry you feel bad about it yourself. It's normal, but I guess I shouldn't tease you anymore." he chuckled. "From now on, I'll love you so much you'll be begging for me to stop, but I won't because you deserve to be loved more than ever."

Sooyoung felt uncomfortable, and woke up. Something wasn't letting her sleep, and she figured the baby must have been moving around as she felt something on her tummy. She shifted, and realised Jaehyun's arm was holding her securely to himself, so turned around slowly to face him. She cupped his cheek and traced it with her thumb, and a smile slowly crept onto her lips.

"Why... are you up... so late?" Jaehyun mumbled and held her hand on his cheek, eyes still closed.

"I can't sleep... The baby's awake I thi- Ack!" she suddenly crouched slightly, grabbing her lower tummy. Her sound was enough to wake Jaehyun completely and sit up right away. He held her arms and helped her sit up.

"What happened?"

"I think she just kicked too ha- AKH!" she groaned louder, crouching even more. Jaehyun quickly got up, put on a tank top and sweat pants, and got both their coats. He then took his own hoodie and shorts and put them on Sooyoung after taking off her night dress, not bothered to help her out on a bra. He carried her to stand, and helped her out on her coat, put his own on, then carried her again downstairs to his car.

"Wait, no, it's just a ki- AKH!" he stood her up to open the door, when his attention was taken away by her next action, as liquid poured out between her legs.

"NO IT'S NOT, YOUR WATER BROKE!"

Jaehyun didn't take another second before pushing her into the passenger's seat and driving off, one hand on the wheel while the other held her hand to let her squeeze something through the pain.

It didn't take long to reach the hospital, and Sooyoung was quickly taken into a ward. But the doctor came in, and shook her head.

"We'll have to wait. The opening is too small, or she'll be hurt."

Sooyoung couldn't take having to sit through her labour pain, at three in the morning, and for the next four hours. She cried every few minutes, and all Jaehyun could do was lay down next to her and hold her close. He wished to share the pain, as seeing her tears broke his heart. At one point she yelled so loud he couldn't take it, and forced the nurse to call the doctor.

"She's in pain! Just check, I'm sure it's OK now, please!"

The doctor took a look at Sooyoung, and nodded at the nurse. "I think it is OK. Take her to the delivery room. Sir, you can follow her and put on the robe and mask."

Jaehyun was prepared, and he stood next to Sooyoung as she kept tossing and turning on bed, gripping on the side bars of the delivery bed. He took both her hands and held them himself. Sooyoung hesitated, but with a sudden pain, dug her nails into his skin.

"That's it... It's OK, let it out. It'll be over soon." he whispered and kissed her forehead.

The baby was out, and Sooyoung opened her arms out coaxing to hold her, tears of joy streaming down her cheeks. "Jung Sohyun... Our beautiful daughter... You're here, with us... I can't believe it."

Jaehyun crouched down next to them and held both of them close to him. He looked at Sooyoung as they shared a loving stare and kissed. "Thank you Sooyoung. You gave us the best gift anyone could ask for. You made us happier. I love you so much." he let out a tear before kissing her again.

"I promise, both of you, and any future child we have, that I'll never love anyone else but you."

"Future child?" Sooyoung asked quietly. Jaehyun simply smiled back with a wink.

"Remember what I said, you're even more beautiful when you're pregnant."

part 2

#NCT #nct 127 #nct jaehyun #jeong jaehyun #red velvet #red velvet fanfic #red velvet joy #Park Sooyoung #kpop fanfic #kpop oneshots #fluff #nct fluff #red velvet fluff #jeong yoonoh

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dontasktheradiodemon · 4 years ago

Text

Reading Area #1 (1/18/2021)

Click here if you’re like “What the heck is this about?”

Valera @autokrates joins Kyxs @usedhearts while reading in the library and pulls out some tea. They hang out and chat about, among other things, Kyxs's death, magic, weird inhuman reproduction, and alien/infernal politics.

Kyxs

Books always attracted him, like a fly to honey, and so it's no wonder that he finally ends up in the library. Most of the volumes on the shelves, he couldn't even read the titles of, but he'd found a nice sci-fi novel in a shelf and sat down with that, just casually flipping through it and skimming.

Valera

Hope Kyxs didn't think he'd get alone time, even in an estate big enough to get lost in. Here comes Valera, a leather bound alien text shoved under one arm, the other holding an oversized mug of tea. To their credit, they offer a little murbling trill in greeting before taking a seat across the way from him in a piled up coil of tail and armchair cushions hidden under a throw blanket. Ohoho, this fish is ready to get COZY.

Kyxs

He looked up with a blink when she entered, but smiled her way. He slowly shut his book and held it in his lap.

"Hey, Val, haven't had a chance to see you yet, nor a chance to thank you for inviting me along. This--" He gestured around them. "Is way better than being in a bunker waiting things out. I'm having a blast."

Valera

"So I can imagine!" They grin, then cock their head to the side and rearrange themselves so they can lean in to get a closer look at their guest.

"Extermination day is your..." Ahem. "*Death Day,* right?" They sound it out carefully, a clear division between two words that didn't belong together in their mind. "Happy Death Day, Kyxs. I hope you've been able to enjoy this one more than the last."

Kyxs

He chuckled, giving a nod. "It is, and thanks. Yeah, usually I have a drink of whiskey with Alastor and listen to the radio waves through the extermination and that's all. Having mixed drinks with my boyfriend and hanging out on a beach side island mansion? Maaaajor upgrade."

Kyxs laughed a little more. "So, still weird to know that we're all dead humans, huh?"

Valera

"Very." They snort, turning to put their tea on the end table next to their chair. "I've seen plenty of humans die, but not as many start walking and talking in new form right afterwards."

They tap the edge of their book, humming as they watch him. "I'm glad I could provide a change of pace for you and yours. I almost didn't offer! I thought it might be too forward with how little we actually know each other, and I'm a TERRIBLE judge on how humans or ex-humans will respond to... Anything, honestly."

Kyxs

"Well, I'm glad you did." He shrugged a bit, leaning his elbow on the arm of his chair.

"Y'know what the worst part of arriving in Hell is? The drop. One minute, you're dying peacefully, and then next--" They lift a hand, making a motion with a finger like something falling. A cartoon sound effect of falling and then a comedic smacking sound play on the air. It's as smooch as any Alastor's effects, but it's clear he's been practicing with the noises.

"You're falling and splatting on the ground. I had the unlucky fortune to do that a few scant minutes before the Extermination kicked off for that year, and as jarring as it is to just fall in, falling in on Extermination day is worse."

Valera

A frown. "I'm surprised you survived. Well, I mean.." A dip of the head. "You *didn't*, obviously. But you didn't *double* die. How did

freshly fallen sinner not immediately get exterminated? You'd have been a walking target!"

Kyxs

"Simple: Alastor. He was waiting for me when I dropped in, immediately got me up and rushed me to a bunker. Didn't even ask anything of me until after the Extermination." He shrugged a bit.

"Without him, I'd have been double dead for sure."

Valera

"Ah. Must have been a fan of your work." They're just going to take a sip of their tea, don't mind them. They know you, sad radio boy.

Kyxs

His mouth snapped shut, but his expression is a familiar static smile. Kyxs takes a moment to blink and then take a breath, relaxing. He just had to remind himself that they were an alien, maybe they wouldn't judge him like other humans would?

"....Yeah. He was. He followed me, listening in via the radios around me, watching what I was doing. Said he liked my style, but that I could have more flair, more power. Offered to teach me, if I worked for him in exchange. I took the deal." He tries his best to act casual, but his next shrug is a little too stiff.

Valera

They watch him stiffen up, and roll their eyes at his carefully manufactured casual mannerisms. "Here's a little tip from your local theater major, kid. Alastor can get away with the stiffly smiling puppet man act because that's how he *always* is. If you flip the switch on suddenly, everyone is going to notice and be on edge."

Ssssip. Mm, good tea. "Anyway. Making a Deal with Alastor was stupid, obviously, but I'm glad it's working out."

Kyxs

He sighed. "I know, I'm working on it. I only have high school theater to rely on." He laughed, crossing his legs.

"Eh, not as stupid as some people might think. Alastor's actually reasonable, mostly. If he respects you, which I was fortunate enough to earn by my actions in life. He'll give you good terms then, but if you're an idiot and act like one around him, well..." He trailed off and shrugged.

Valera

"Earning his respect doesn't seem that hard... Unless you also want him to fear you just a bit." They grin, all teeth.

"Not that I'd know. I have *no* idea if any Alastors out there respect me. But I do have things they want, and that's good enough. The only ones I make deals with are the ones I know have a vested interest in my survival."

Kyxs

"I don't know about that, there's not much Alastor fears." He took a breath, his hand playing with the pages of the shut book on his lap.

"Which ones are vested in your survival? Or are you not allowed to say?"

Valera

"I disagree MOST heartily, dear boy! There's plenty he fears. But if you haven't figured out what yet, I'm certainly not going to tell you and ruin his fun!" They crack their book open, setting it in their lap as they tug the throw up over their shoulders. Hoohoo cozy time.

"I could tell you specifics, but I wouldn't benefit from you knowing. Suffice to say, the ones that like going to Earth for visits or ingredients make an effort to keep in my good graces. Free rides are hard to come by."

Kyxs

He nodded. "True, I don't know much about what other Alastors fear, only the one I know. Who can say which ones of them have the same fears?"

He leaned over, tilting his head to try and get a peek at her book. "What're you reading?"

Valera

A few seconds of watching him crane his neck, and they obligingly turn the book sideways so he can see text he absolutely can't understand. It was reflex, don't question it too much.

"This? Nothing special, really. It's a book on chronomancy, time manipulation and the like. This one is about creating pockets of reality where time is dilated. Not terribly useful to me, but I like to study the basics of anything I can."

Kyxs

She was right, he could't read it, but he enjoyed being able to see the script, it looked nice. That explination flew over his head, though, and he blinked. "Soooo, time travel? What's.....time dilation?"

Valera

"Time dilation is.." They pull the book back, brows furrowing. "To simplify it to an absurd degree, time dilation is where time slows down. So this teaches you the theory behind creating pockets of space where time slows to a crawl relative to the world outside of it."

Kyxs

"Think I read a fantasy western where someone could do that. Had to burn a metal with Allomancy to do it, though." He chuckled. "But that's....neat? Is that something you can do?"

Valera

"Oh yeah, totally." They toss the book at Kyxs, watching as it freezes in midair, then seems to fall in slow motion.

"I already learned how to break this kind of magic at its zenith, but I did it with brute force. I'm studying the theory to learn how to pick it apart instead of just smashing it with a metaphorical hammer. Because eventually I wont be able to just" here they whip out the airquotes, voice turning exasperated "'orbital drop kick' my way to victory."

Kyxs

Kyxs blinked as the book froze and watched as it kept slowly moving towards him.

"Orbital drop kick, huh? So you got a lot of raw power but no finesse?"

Valera

"Oh, uh. Yeah." They roll their eyes, reaching out to pluck the book from the air before it went too far.

"I ruin a lot of things, losing control of spells. There's actually a spot in one of my off planet estates that infinitely spawns chickens because I overcharged one part of a time weave." A pause. "So if you're ever hungry, paradox chicken is cheap."

Kyxs

Kyxs blinked again, and then laughed, putting his face in his hand. "Paradox chicken?"

He lifted his head and, still giggling, continued. "So, is it just a planet of chickens now, or do they disappear after a while?"

Valera

They snort, waving a hand dismissively as they settle back into their coils. "I put a portal underneath the point that whisks them away to a processing facility. But it sure LOOKED like it was going to turn into a chicken planet for a while there. I didn't exactly have a response plan ready for *an endless flood of chickens*."

Kyxs

"Endless chickens. You could solve world hunger-- or actually, ALL worlds hunger." He laughed again.

"Okay, what else have you fucked up magically?" He looks legitimately excited by this.

Valera

They sniff. "Oh you want to hear about all my FAILURES huh? Not my dazzling successes? I broke an entire MOON out of a time freeze you know!"

A moment, and then they drop the act, grinning again. "Veci learn to channel our magic through boards carved with symbols. They're rigidly designed and have a bunch of redundancies to keep dumbass kids from hurting themselves. They do all sorts of things, and ONLY those things. So I, of course, wired a bunch of them together and powered them all at once."

A long sigh. "Long story short, the whole kit and kaboodle went flying off into low orbit and is probably still going."

Kyxs

Kyxs laughed, harder this time. "Oh my god! Just bam, zoom! Off it goes! That's incredible."

He sighed and wiped at his eye. "Reminds me of when Alastor started teaching me magic-- nearly broke every piece of radio equipment I touched."

Valera

His host watches him, fins twitching as they hold their mug of tea in cupped hands. "Aw, hatchling's growing pains. I assume you've gotten better control since then?"

Kyxs

"Oh yeah, a lot better. I still don't have the simple finesse and control that Alastor does, but I'm also not a full fledged radio demon yet." He shrugged.

"I still have to concentrate for stuff that comes naturally to Alastor." To prove his point, an audience gave sporadic clapping after he spoke and he sighed.

"Like that. Still need to whip my audience into shape."

Valera

"So I've heard! You don't inspire the same fear, but you also didn't exactly spring into Hell fully formed and blasting Overlords with unfathomable power. Or whatever. I wasn't there for it, I'm sure his manifestation was greatly exaggerated."

Kyxs

Kyxs rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged a bit. "I dunno, I've looked into it, quite a bit, and most reports are shockingly accurate from what I can tell. Alastor doesn't like to talk about the specifics a lot, though. But he did kill just...a whole fuckton of sinners."

Valera

They shrug. "Sinners die all the time. But we're focusing on you here. Do you MIND that people aren't as afraid of you?"

Kyxs

"Not really? Like everyone's _so_ afraid of Alastor that he can't do much of anything without people running in terror. I can go places and do things on his behalf and even then people won't just up and run because of my mere presence. Being feared to that extent's gotta be tiring." He shrugs back.

Valera

Sip-- Oh, they're out of tea. Ah well. "Speaking from experience? Exhausting. Especially for someone who was previous used to being well liked. You should feel bad for him, but only a little. He did choose to do all that murder after all."

Kyxs

His head tilted, looking curious. "People feared you? Like they do Alastor? But....you're so nice?" His bright green eyes squinted.

"Though considering you can make a chicken paradox, I guess getting on your bad side is a bad idea."

Valera

Well, if he's going to say his piece.. They carefully set the empty mug aside, face blandly neutral as they speak.

"I was thrust into power at twenty years of age, unprepared and terrified. When people attacked me, I responded in turn. When their families protested, I held public executions, to prove a point. A plot of treason? I strung their bodies up for everyone to see!"

A shrug. "Once people see you pull the trigger on an entire city in response to something they did, they realize what they're trying to fight against only gets worse every time they try to put it down."

Kyxs

"Oh geez." Their eyes widen with each word and they look away, elbows on their knees and hands covering their mouth.

After Valera was done, they were quiet a moment. "Yeah, that'd do it," They muttered.

Kyxs sat back up, leaning back in their chair, arms crossing over their stomach. "I killed my father and brother. They were both my first victims. And then I went off and killed a lot of other people. Not a whole city's worth, but for one person just on their own? I killed a lot."

They shrugged. "I keep that under wraps for most of Hell, on Alastor's advice. Thought since you shared...." They shrugged.

Valera

What a strange heart to heart this is. They'd hesitate to call Kyxs anything more than a maybe-friend, but.. He tries. They offer a smile, one side crooked higher than the other.

"Weird that he'd tell you to keep a few murders under wraps, considering the circumstances! But I'm sure he had his reasons. Maybe keeping your victims from deciding to settle the score personally."

A beat. "Oh. I haven't done a widespread cull since I hit thirty, so don't... worry? I guess? I made a deal; ten years of compassion after ten years of cruelty. Six in now, and people have gotten comfortable enough to insult me to my face."

Kyxs

"I think it's less about the murders themselves and more me being a serial killer and all the media coverage I had before I died. Some people in Hell go real hard for true crime shit and have no qualms about stalking you." He laughed softly.

Kyxs's head titled, curious. "What happens when the ten years are up? Will you go back to doing stuff like that or do you think your decade of compassion's changed you enough to not do it again?"

Valera

"Figures, even in Hell where killers are in spitting distance on any given street corner, the big names still get creepy fans. Ever had people ring into the station over you yet?"

The question catches their attention, eyes alight with mischief. "I'd started to find the devotion to compassion rather boring, but then it lead me to Pentious. I _like_ being attentive with him. Making him happy makes _me_ happy. It's pleasant! And weird!"

They magic up fresh tea, offering a duplicate mug to Kyxs. "In four years time, I'll likely have young children to worry about. Another thing I never expected. So.. The best answer I can give is.. I don't know! This year alone has upset my status quo immensely."

Kyxs

He laughed, shaking his head. "No, thankfully. It helps that Kyxs isn't the name I went by when I was up top. I _do_ get people calling in thirsty as fuck for Alastor, though. In a variety of ways."

Kyxs shuddered a bit, and then grinned.

"Oh yeah, love can do that. Having someone to share things with is just really nice. Whether it's a friend or a significant other, it's really nice just being around people you like and care about."

He blinked and tilted his head. "Kids? With....Pentious? I thought sinners were sterile?"

Valera

"You are." They go back to cupping their drink. Time for more explaining! "Veci can reproduce with anything that has a soul. Sinners like you and Pentious ARE souls, condemned to Hell for your sins in life."

A pleased hum.. And then they snort. "Before you ask, yes I'm sure it works, and I've got the embarrassing story about Alastor being my midwife to prove it."

Kyxs

He blinks again at that and finally takes a sip of the tea she'd given him.

"Ah, hm, I don't think I want to hear that story yet. I don't think I'm mentally prepared." He chuckled. "But that's really interesting. Is it cause your people are so much more magically inclined?"

Valera

"You will never be mentally prepared. And if you ever are, you'll have better luck asking Angel. He was there too." A dainty wrist to their forehead, and they sigh dramatically. "My BEAUTIFUL spusband, my knight in SHINING armor.."

But no, Kyxs was NOT ready to hear the story, and Valera was not about to share it. Instead they grin over their tea, mischief in their eyes. "To answer your question. Yes and no. We're very magically inclined, but we're also genetically all over the place, compared to humans. For example, I bet you had two genetic donors, both normal husband, and you came out looking like either of them. "

Kyxs

Another rapid set of blinks. This converstation really was getting a lot of those out of him. "Angel was there?" He grinned at her display. "Well, that explains everything, he's definitely a knight in shinning armor."

He nods, very seriously, yes absolutely, knight in shinning armor.

"Yeah, that's pretty much how humans do it. Two parents, both equal in indignity." He snorted into his tea as he took another sip.

Valera

Oh no, there they go back into their dramatic swoon. "Of course Angel was there! He was the one whisking me away once things started happening, the one right by my side through thick and thin!"

And cue another sigh, flowery as you please. Then they snap back to normal, chinhanding at Kyxs. "I've got seven parents. All genetically related to me. Though the indignity stands, anyone who thinks reproduction is beautiful is wrong, and worse, they're stupid."

Kyxs

More blinking! His eyelids are going to get tired at this rate. "Seven? If it's not too weird to ask, how?? I only know about human biology, so forgive the ignorance."

He was trying very hard to not giggle as he took yet another sip of tea.

Valera

Kyxs' eyelids were going to be so buff by the time this was over. "Well, in MY case the genes were harvested and then patched together in a controlled environment. Yes, that's right darling... I'm DESIGNER." Hairflip. Anyway.

"But it CAN happen naturally. The optimum mating period is fairly generous, as long as there's enough.. traits.. mixed in there by the time the shop closes, the results can be any mix of the parents... Or you just do it magically. We've got spells to avoid the sexual part of reproduction entirely. Options are out there, suffice to say."

Kyxs

He gives a BIG laugh at the hairflip. That was a good one, tickled his funnybone something good.

"I see. That's really cool. So like, anyone can have a kid if they want, I guess the opposite is true too? Like there's probably magical contraception and all that?"

Valera

Good, they live to entertain!

"Of course! I just use the standard non magical medical solutions. Keeps me from having weird magic interactions!"

Kyxs

Kyxs laughed again. "Oh God what kind of weird magical reactions can they cause?"

Valera

"I mean, I laid three eggs. So failure is a common one." They roll their eyes. "No, I know what you want. Sometimes you change colors if your contraceptive doesn't mesh well with your magic. Or you can turn sparkly."

Kyxs

"_Sparkly?_" Their eyes get real big for a moment there. "Man, I want weird magical reactions that turn people sparkly to exist in Hell that sounds funny as fuck."

They laughed and set their empty cup aside. "I take it yours meshes, though-- or are you normally blue?" Kyxs smirked.

Valera

"I hatched *red,* actually." They flutter their lashes... Then snort and shake their head. "That's true, but misleading. Veci change colors as they grow up fairly frequently, nothing to do with contraceptives. No, I use regular old injections, good for six months at a time. Though my old magical one would sometimes make my horns get blue speckles. As far as side effects, it was pretty harmless!"

Now it's their turn to lean in, eyebrow raising. "You've asked *me* a bunch of questions, but what about you? Any magical contraceptives on your side of things, Kyxs?"

Kyxs

Oh, the blinking time is back, that's good. He laughed after, shaking his head.

"Oh, no, not that I know of. Sinners being sterile and all there's no real need for injections? I don't know what's up with the Hellborns though, so maybe they got some." He shrugged.

Valera

"Oh, boo. Though the idea of Hellborns making minor contracts with...." They trail off, leaning back in their seat.

"Oh my gods. Do they make deals with Stolas? No, no... Unless they were trading for information on contraceptive *herbs*. No, they'd go to Gaap, probably? He's the prince who rules over that sort of thing, if my memory serves. I haven't brushed up on my knowledge of demons in *years*." Plus Gaap was the one that Alastor had called on for them.. They should send a gift basket.

Kyxs

"I've been lacking in my demon studies, honestly. I know about Prince Stolas, but Gaap's not familiar to me? Is he a Duke or...?" He trailed off, shifting to tuck his feet under him on the chair.

Valera

"He's a prince, same as Stolas. Though, that's assuming your Hell works the same as some of the others I've been to. I'd honestly suggest you do your own research when you get home, if possible. Though if you want, I could ask Stolas when I see him on our coffee date." They shuffle deeper into their blankets.

"Do you want a refill on the tea, or is that enough for you?"

Kyxs

"Oh! Yeah a refill would be nice." He picked up his empty cup to hand over.

"Yeah I should. I need to be in the know more when it comes to Hellborns rather than just sinner Overlords."

Valera

A twitch of their fin, and his tea is refilled. Who needs TEAPOTS when you've got MAGIC ~~and a teapot and tea cabinet in the kitchen you can draw boiling water and leaves from~~?

"Indeed! Though, really I should as well. If I'm going to marry a man aspiring to conquer, I need to learn everything I can to help support him in his efforts. His greatest enemies, possible allies, how to manage them.. You know. Political stuff."

Kyxs

He takes a sip of the new tea. Ah yes tasty.

"Yeah, I've been putting it off a lot because of the politics. But considering I'm bound to the Radio Demon, and he's working with the Princess, maybe it's a good idea to look more into things."

Valera

"Take it from a politician. Politics are the worst and I hate them. Death to politics as we know it can't come soon enough." A heaving sigh.

"It sounds like a good idea. If you're going to help your boss, you need to know what you're doing. If I'm going to help my husband, so do I. We're together in misery!"

Kyxs

"Yay!" Kyxs gave a little fake cheer and then laughed.

"Well, as they say, misery loves company." He gave a shrug. "But you said you were planning on having coffee with Prince Stolas? Swanky." He laughed a little.

Valera

They groan, nearly vanishing into their own coils as they slowly place their book over their face. Politicsssssss....

Oh, right. Stolas. They remain exactly as they are, voice muffled but much more cheery. "We're going to meet up and swap parenting tips over iced coffee! He seems lovely, so I'm looking forward to it."

Kyxs

"That sounds so wholesome for a chat with a Prince of Hell." Kyxs couldn't help another giggle.

"Then again, Hellborns are a lot different from sinners. Who's to say they can't be wholesome?"

Valera

They wave a hand, vague and airy. "Parents operate on a higher frequency. We make eye contact and a bond is established. In that moment, we are allies in exasperation and adoration for the weird tiny people we're stuck with."

The book is brought down far enough to peek their third eye over at Kyxs, surprise tinging their voice. "You've met Charlie, haven't you? She's a total sweetheart, and about as Hellborn as it gets."

Kyxs

"Oh yeah! I have, she's really nice. I think my brain just slots her into her own category cause she's Princess." He shrugged again.

"She's very _very_ enthusiastic about things, which is really adorable. I really kinda wanna meet her parents just to see how they could've raised someone as sweet and compassionate in Hell of all places."

Valera

"You know, fair. She's certainly not like any other Hellborn out there, with that parentage." The royal baby, the little Angel of Hell. Poor Charlie.

And then her parents. Ugh. "I've heard very little about Charlotte's parents." They begin, carefully. "But I've heard nothing _good_ about them. I think Charlie's personality is her own doing."

Kyxs

"That's a fair point. I've heard things about Lucifer and Lilith, and none of it wasn't someone doing some ass kissing, sooo..." He snorted and shrugged again.

"It'd make sense if Charlie was mostly a self made Princess."

Valera

"Quite so, Kyxs." The book is finally pulled away, set on the table between them so Valera can have both hands free.

"Apologies, I didn't mean to derail the conversation. Was there anything in particular you wanted to discuss?"

Kyxs

"Oh, not really. I kinda like derailed converstations, makes it easier to go with the flow." He tilted his head.

"Alastor hasn't been any trouble has he? I mean, the one that's my boss, of course."

Valera

They stare at him, blank faced as they process his question. Alastor... Trouble... His *boss* Alastor.... Had he? Had he been trouble? Quick, brain, go evaluate a specific Alastor even though they all looked almost identical. Which one was his boss? Not Stick, right? No of course not. So that meant...

A few seconds of silence, and... "Oh! Not at all. He's lovely. A model guest. Good shot, too." Nailed it.

Kyxs

"Good shot?" His eyebrow raised and he lifted his cup for another sip of tea.

"What was he shooting?"

Valera

"Fish! We went speargun fishing together on the pier. It was very fun, he's good company." Oho, a purr from the fish, good job Alastor, wherever you are.

"I almost feel bad for worrying, all the Alastors have been behaving very well. So far."

Kyxs

"Oh never feel bad about worrying about Alastors making trouble. They'd never be rude, but I will say if they weren't your guests, they would be making a loooot more chaos than they are." He shook his head and smirked.

"Sometimes it's funny, sometimes....not so much."

Valera

They open their mouth to respond, then hesitate, tension tightening their shoulders. "Yes. Sometimes not so much is right."

... Not going to elaborate on that, Valera? No? Alright. "Well, with him at least, we managed to get along well enough with weapons in our hands! Always a good sign. Hopefully even when he isn't bound by his manners we'll muddle through, but we'll see."

Kyxs

"Well, if he didn't take a shot at you with a weapon in his hands, I'd say you're at least good in that he won't immediately kill you." He laughed again.

"I mean, not that he could? I think you'd be able to take anyone in Hell, honestly. Maybe not Lucifer himself, but you never know."

Valera

They grimace, shaking their head at the idea. "I could take Alastor in a fight, but I don't know about any Hellborn. And even if I *could* take them on, I wouldn't want to. Fighting is *stressful*."

Kyxs

He nodded and shrugged. "Fair enough, I haven't actually fought anyone else in Hell, so I don't even know what a big demon magical fight would be like."

Valera

"Oh, you haven't? Do you even know what you're truly capable of?" Now they're interested again.

"If you want to get an idea, I could always spar with one of my friends while you watched. Sparring is one thing, that's just playing."

Kyxs

"Not like, fully capable? I've gone into uhhh, my 'true' demon form a couple times but never to really fight? Or at least not anyone who was even near my level in terms of power." He used airquotes around the true part, and then shrugged.

"But I wouldn't say no to seeing some sparring, sounds fun."

Valera

"Sure! Probably not this time, but we can absolutely arrange something when less people are around to get in the crossfire."

They've abandoned the idea of reading by now, just a bundle of fish in a blanket sitting pretty.

"So, Kyxs. What do you want in Hell? You're stuck there theoretically forever, have you got a goal?"

Kyxs

They pondered that question for a bit, one clawed hand scratching at the base of one of their horns.

"Not really sure? Beyond like, doing the radio thing, learning from Alastor, and playing music, I don't have big overarching goals? I'm.... kind of content with that? Which is weird when you think about it, being content in Hell of all places but hey." They shrugged. "I'll take it."

Valera

"That might be for the best, honestly. But yeah, there's a pretty big flaw in Hell's design."

They shrug. "Humans can adapt to just about anything. That's your claim to fame. Give them eternity and they'll build civilizations, like they did on Earth, and like they did in Hell. Mediocre food? You get used to it."

Kyxs

Kyxs laughed. "Don't let Alastor hear you calling Earth food mediocre, he'll take that as a challenge."

He leaned back, tilting his head to stair up at the ceiling. "Kinda makes you wonder how Hell's supposed to be a punishment when it seems like more of the same. Maybe that _is_ the punishment? You think it's gonna be a change, but it's not. I dunno, I can't claim to know what God was thinking when he came up with it."

Valera

"Alastor can take it as a challenge, I've rarely had food from Earth that actually tasted good. It's not made for a Veci tongue to enjoy. If he thinks he can do better than all the other attempts, let him!" A snort, and then they shrug.

"I can't say much for your God, but they never struck me as the creative sort. Or as all knowing as they act. It's kind of embarrassing, like a kid who made a mess and then tries to hide it." They pause, raising an eyebrow. "Though of course, I get to say that because I'm an alien with gods I can punch in the face. Yours seems a bit loftier."

Kyxs

"Yeah, loftier." He rolled his eyes. "He's an asshole. Thought so when I was alive and still think so now. His sons aren't much better, any of em. Though," He giggles, "It does make me laugh that the family who where the biggest bible thumpers are the ones in Hell with me, the heathen, now."

Valera

Well that earns him a quizzical look. "What does that mean? What family?"

Kyxs

Kyxs winced a little and glanced away. "_My_ family. My uh brother and father. Huge Christian bible thumpers and yet," He giggled again. "They're both in Hell now too. Looks like all their hypocrisy got the best of them."

Valera

They scrunch their face like they just sucked a lemon, sinking further into their blanket. "Gods, I forget that people having families is *normal*. Sounds like yours wasn't great though. I take it you were responsible for their surprise entrances to Hell?"

Kyxs

"Yeah. Said earlier that I killed em, but yeah. Knife to the neck for dear old dad and just a bunch of stabs to the chest for big brother." His face also scrunched. "Really had hoped that they'd been exterminated."

Valera

"Well sure, but I don't know how much family you have. Had. Have?" Squint. "Either way, good riddance. Next round, just throw them into the street yourself. You want a problem solved, do it yourself and all that!"

Kyxs

"Easier said than done, I don't know where they hole up for the exterminations, and I doubt they'd let me in so that I _could_ toss them out." He shrugged. "Just have to find some other way, I guess."

Valera

Valera scoffs, pointing a finger at Kyxs. "You have a lot to learn, kid. I hope Alastor teaches you how to properly track a target by next extermination. It's all about networking with people who want to be in your good graces."

A dismissive toss of the head, and the fish rises to their feet. "Speaking of family we hate, though, I should check on my *own* brother to make sure he hasn't said anything stupid to any of my guests. I'll see you later, Kyxs."

Kyxs

"I know how to track people, they just have some...powerful friends." He sighed. When Val got up, he nodded.

"Brothers are the worst. Alright, see ya later then, Val."

He gave a little wave as she left.

#((two today because I wasn’t able to upload one yesterday))#extermination party palace #autokrates #usedhearts

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fuckyeahwarriorwomen · 4 years ago

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Copy of article below thge cut, should the original ever go away

Leading up to the 20th anniversary of the March 10, 1997 premiere of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Yahoo TV is celebrating “Why Genre Shows Matter” and the history of how these shows have tackled universal themes (e.g. how much high school sucks) and broader social issues.

Perhaps because they seek to imagine the world that’s possible rather than the world that is, genre shows have a long tradition of striving to expand the horizons of what’s possible for women on television. Within the realm of space operas alone, there’s a direct line that connects Lieutenant Uhura’s prominent perch amongst the Enterprise‘s largely male bridge crew on the original Star Trek to The Expanse‘s fiercely independent engineer, Naomi Nagata. And each point along this continuum helps inform the next: commanding officers like Babylon 5‘s Susan Ivanova and Voyager‘s Kathryn Janeway are linked by a devotion to duty, if not necessarily temperament, while Killjoys‘ scrappy bounty hunter, Yala, could have been a student of Firefly‘s highly-skilled soldier, Zoë Washburne. On this International Women’s Day, we celebrate the accomplishments of one such influential intergalactic heroine.

Her name is Aeryn. Officer Aeryn Sun if we’re being formal, one of the interstellar outlaws at the center of Farscape, the wildly ambitious Australian/American space serial that ran from 1999 to 2003 on the Sci-Fi Channel. Bred from birth to be a loyal Sebacean soldier in the Peacekeeper army that patrols her section of the galaxy, Officer Sun switches careers after inadvertently ending up aboard a living spaceship named Moya that’s occupied by a motley crew of jailbreakers. These convicts-turned-comrades include towering warrior Ka D’Argo, blue-hued priestess Zhaan, flatulent deposed despot Rygel XVI, and John Crichton, an Earth-born astronaut who is very, very far from home. Created by Rockne S. O’Bannon and produced by The Jim Henson Company, Farscape enjoyed a bumpy four-season stateside run that ended prematurely when the network declined to fund a fifth and final year. (Sci-Fi later aired, but didn’t finance, a wrap-up miniseries, Farscape: The Peacekeeper Wars, in 2004.)

The original cast of ‘Farscape’ (Credit: Everett Collection)

One of the joys of Farscape is that its defining house style is the lack of a defining house style. Episodes can range from standalone homages to body-switching comedies and vintage Loony Tunes cartoons to densely plotted multi-part stories that don’t conclude with conventionally happy endings. The primary constant amidst this narrative and tonal juggling is the turbulent love story between Aeryn Sun and John Crichton. Revisited today, Farscape stands as something of a bridge between eras of space opera, linking the last wave of episodic space adventures like Star Trek: Voyager and Stargate: SG-1 to the intensely emotional serialized narratives that later drove Battlestar Galactica and its ilk. Aeryn is both a traditional and transformational figure as well; raised to be an impersonal enforcer in the Imperial Stormtrooper mold, she comes to live out a promise that John makes to her in the very first episode: “You can be more.”

“Oh, I’ve got chills down my arm,” says Aeryn’s alter ego, Claudia Black, as she reflects on the character and those prophetic words nearly two decades later. “Her evolution as an individual takes off in an extraordinary way [after that].” Over the course of Yahoo TV’s hour-long conversation with the Australian actress, it’s clear that she does regard Aeryn as an individual unto herself, one who took on a life that sometimes superseded the actress’s own. “I was always happy to hand the character off,” Black says. “I would say [to the producers], ‘If I’m going in the wrong direction then please find someone to serve Aeryn, please. Because she deserves to have the full love of a person who can give you what you need.’ She was honestly such a privilege to play, and I never abused that privilege.”

And Black very nearly didn’t get that privilege. The role had already been cast when she first auditioned for Farscape, but the creative team encouraged her to read for Aeryn anyway. That reading later led to a screen test opposite Tennessee-born Ben Browder, who would be playing John Crichton. (Interestingly, Browder’s casting is, in part, what opened the door to Black inheriting the role from the English actress who had originally been chosen as Aeryn. “Because of the Australian co-production agreement, if they brought in a lead actor from America, the second lead had to be Australian,” Black explains. “So thank god for our union!”) Immediately recognizing the crackling onscreen chemistry between them, Browder pushed hard for her to land the role over network skepticism. “I was a controversial choice for sure,” Black says now. “I was just lucky in the end.”

Whatever the circumstances of how she got the role, Black climbed aboard Moya with strong ideas about how to play Aeryn. Superficially, the character is part of the wave of warrior women that swept through genre shows in the ’90s and early ’00s, whose ranks included Xena, Buffy, and even Cleo of Cleopatra 2525 fame. But as conceived by O’Bannon and carried forward by executive producer David Kemper, who became a driving creative force behind the show, Aeryn cuts against that archetype as well. Unlike Xena, she doesn’t necessarily relish battle; it’s something that’s been programmed into her. (Although, as Aeryn memorably remarks in The Peacekeeper Wars: “Shooting makes me feel better!“) She also reverses the arc traversed by Buffy and Cleo, which begins with them in places of perceived weakness — as a cheerleader and exotic dancer, respectively — and leads towards empowerment.

Because of her militaristic upbringing, Aeryn starts from a place of fierce strength. Her journey over the lifespan of the show, then, becomes about softening what Black describes as Aeryn’s “jagged edges” without surrendering her agency. “I’ve always loved science fiction because of the way it affords us an opportunity to look at humanity from an outsider’s perspective,” Black says. “And Aeryn really gets to experience it firsthand the best way that humans can, which is through love, in all of its forms. When I look at humanity, and my own life, we have to break before we can grow. That’s really what happened with Aeryn; she became stronger with softer edges.” (For the record, Aeryn may start out as a superior fighter to Buffy, but Black says that Sarah Michelle Gellar would easily mop the floor with her in real life. “Sarah has a black belt in karate, and I have two left feet! I always felt like a bit of an imposter [as Aeryn] just on the physical front. If I could push the reset button, I’d go back and get good at some form of martial art.”)

But that stronger-to-softer arc is also more treacherous to navigate than a traditional empowerment story, flirting, as it does, with the fanboy-friendly stereotype of the buttoned-up ice queen whose resolve (and inhibitions) melt when love, generally in the form of a strapping male hero, comes her way. The risk of falling headlong into that tired trope is something Farscape had to deal with throughout its run, especially as the core of the show was always the romance between John and Aeryn.

And while that romance takes a number of unexpected twists and turns — most boldly in a Season 3 storyline that saw Aeryn committing herself fully to a cloned version of Crichton, only to see him die and then have to re-learn how to love the original John — it ultimately culminates with two staples of a standard love story: a marriage proposal and a pregnancy. “It seemed pretty clear to me that Rockne’s intention in the pilot was that this was going to be a love story for the ages,” Black says. Not only that, but it was a love story penned by a largely male writing staff who had their own opinions about how to depict Aeryn’s gradual acceptance of Crichton’s love that sometimes ran counter to Black’s feelings. “I recall moments where they wanted me to be more vulnerable with Aeryn, and I didn’t want to be because I didn’t think it was time and I didn’t think she was ready,” she says. “But it wasn’t my place to say.”

Nevertheless, she persistently found ways to make her voice heard, whether it was by talking one-on-one with specific writers or her co-star, who was equally eager to avoid certain genre show clichés. Black recalls one instance early on in the show’s run when Browder actively pushed back against Sci-Fi’s directive that John Crichton demonstrate the same sex drive as James T. Kirk. “They wanted Crichton to have an alien girl of the week. Ben put his foot down and said, ‘No, he’s not that kind of guy. This isn’t the story I want to tell.’ And on my side I was saying, ‘Yeah, what does that say about Aeryn if she’s going to fall in love with a guy [like that]?’ We wanted to investigate and have them experience the more positive aspects of attraction, as well as what’s worth fighting for and what’s worth dying for,” she says. “Maybe the show would have continued longer if we’d been able to please the network! They know what they’re going to need in order to keep [viewers] interested and tuning in. But we’re very proud of what we managed to make regardless, because of those choices.”

The ongoing battle that Black personally waged throughout Farscape‘s run was ensuring that Aeryn maintained control over her own body. In the genre shows of her era, the female leads were stronger and savvier than ever, and that translated into fashion choices that expressed their own body confidence and sexuality. Xena rode into battle in a heaving breastplate, while Buffy fought vampires in halter tops and Relic Hunter‘s Sydney Fox always donned a tight tank top before exploring some ancient tomb. But flashing cleavage, leg, and midriff also made those characters desirable pin-ups for the male audience courted by networks and advertisers. (Farscape added its own version of a pin-up type midway through the first season in the form of Chiana, a grey-skinned con artist with a plunging neckline and a voracious sexual appetite.)

But those fashions didn’t make sense for a soldier fighting in an army where men and women’s bodies were interchangeable. In fact, Black remembers reading a very specific direction to the makeup department in the production notes for the pilot. “When I take my Peacekeeper helmet off [for the first time], the note read in big print, ‘She looks masculine.’ They thickened my eyebrows — which are already thick! — and shaded my face in very minimal makeup. All of the on-set gallery images of me in the first season are with that very masculine makeup.”

Aeryn in her ‘masculine’ Season 1 appearance (Credit: Everett Collection)

By Season 2, though, Aeryn’s appearance underwent a noticeable change; her hair got longer and straighter, and her Peacekeeper uniform gave way to outfits that walked a line between practical and revealing. Black, who describes herself as a feminist, agreed to these cosmetic changes as she felt they were part of a “natural progression” for Aeryn. “I was honoring where she had come from at the same time having to find a way to let her grow into whatever it is she was going to become,” she says. (This clip from Farscape‘s aforementioned Looney Tunes-inspired episode, “Revenging Angel,” neatly summarizes — and satirizes — the female body types commonly featured on genre shows that Aeryn deliberately defies.)

Already objectively beautiful, Aeryn’s sexuality continued to emerge as she grew into her new self. Even so, Black could sense it wasn’t emerging quickly enough to satisfy certain expectations. “I felt that I was being pushed to show more flesh than was necessary,” she admits, pointing to one incident in the show’s fourth season where it was written into the script that Aeryn would sit poolside in a bikini. “I just said, ‘I will get in a bikini for you if it makes sense, but this woman’s world is falling apart.’ It was the last thing I thought Aeryn would do [in that moment]. It felt really frivolous and superficial to me.” (Black had already donned a bikini to play pregnant Aeryn in a hallucinatory scene in the Season 4 premiere. “They not only had me in a bikini, but they gave me a pregnant belly as well, which is really hard to pull off and make it look naturalistic,” she says.)

Black remembers shooting down an even more egregious bit of flesh-flashing in an earlier episode. As an international production, Farscape frequently shot extra scenes for certain ad-free European markets that would fill the time normally allotted for commercials. The cast referred to these filler sequences as “Euro scenes,” and they rarely involved big story or character beats. According to Black, this particular episode dispatched D’Argo and Aeryn on a planetside mission, and the writers cobbled together a Euro scene that she describes as “absurd.” “They said, ‘Let’s have a scene where we cut to them by a lake, and Aeryn turns and sees a bunch of soldiers across the lake. Aeryn takes off her clothes, swims across the lake, and fights these soldiers completely naked, then comes back to D’Argo and off they go.'”

In later seasons, Aeryn naturally progressed towards more revealing fashion choices (Credit: Everett Collection)

“There were so many things about it that were so bizarre,” she continues. “I said, ‘You know what, please explain this to me, how this honestly can fit in.’ In the end, they just said, ‘All right, fine — we won’t do it.’ That’s what I felt I was having to haggle for a lot of the time: my right to keep my clothes on until it was appropriate. I’ve always felt as an actor — and I’m sure other females have felt like this as well — that when you sign on the dotted line and enter the business that somehow you’ve given your body away as a piece of property, and you spend the rest of your career haggling for pieces of it back.” And the actress credits Browder with backing her up in her fight for Aeryn to be in full control of her own femininity and, by extension, her destiny. “Aeryn is really as feminist as I am, but she’s nothing without Crichton, which is an interesting statement to make,” she says. “So as much as we praise Aeryn, we must give full credit to Crichton and to Ben for shaping him the way that he did. It’s the space that he gives her. He’s such an exquisite champion of her growth and development, that it becomes possible for her to grow to her full size.”

In the 13 years since the concluding Peacekeeper Wars miniseries, rumors have occasionally flown about Farscape‘s return. At one point, there was talk of a webisode series following John and Aeryn’s child, D’Ago Sun-Crichton, but funding never came to fruition. (The show did continue in comic book form for a time, but publication ceased circa 2011.) Black, whose recent credits include stints on The CW genre shows Containment and The Originals, has no updates on any future revivals, and jokes that if Aeryn and Crichton ever do return, they’ll be “tired, ornery, and not really wanting another battle.”

Claudia Black as Dahlia on ‘The Originals’ (Credit: Annette Brown/The CW)

In a way, though, Aeryn’s larger battle has already been won. One of the breakout characters on Battlestar Galactica — which premiered in December 2003, nine months after Farscape‘s series finale — was Kara “Starbuck” Thrace, who displays some of the same steely spine, and jagged edges, of Officer Sun. And today’s genre TV landscape is populated with women who, consciously or not, reflect Aeryn’s assertiveness, independence, and refusal to conform to societal (or genre) norms of appearance or attitude, whether it’s Orphan Black‘s Helena, Sense8‘s Nomi, or Jessica Jones.

For this Scaper, she lives on off-screen as well. When my wife and I learned that we’d be having a daughter, we thought about all the things we wanted for her life. To know that she, and she alone, is in control of her body. To be strong in the face of injustice. To be confident in her own power. And to know that when she chooses to give her heart to another person, that person will be her champion, and give her the space to grow to her full size. And so we picked a name that, for us, would embody all of our hopes and dreams for the individual she’s becoming with each passing year.

Her name is Aeryn.

#warrior women #aeryn sun #claudia black #farscape #feminism

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dragonsaphirareads · 5 years ago

Text

Flying Low, Flying High

Day 7 of @tsshipmonth2020 Fluffuary

Ship: LAMP

AU: Wing/College

Word Count: 3300

Summary: In a world where humans had wings, Logan was born without any. It wasn’t until college when he started to realize that maybe, he didn’t need them anyways.

(Like listening to podfics? You can listen to this oneshot on my YT channel here!)

Logan had been born without wings. His parents had found out when his mother was in her third trimester that the bones and muscles required for their growth had not formed, and that they never would.

They didn’t let that affect how they raised their son, of course. His parents loved him, and he never doubted that. But his parents couldn’t protect him from the rest of the world, and how they would treat someone as different as him.

He didn’t get to play with the other kids at recess. They would make excuses, telling him their teams were full or that it would be unfair, but Logan knew they were lying. He knew it was because he was different, because he’d been born without something that they all had. They weren’t willing to alter their game for him.

He spent recess in the classroom, reading at his desk while the teacher graded papers. She would occasionally look over at him with sympathy, her own burgundy and black wings fluttering.

Logan would draw as well, though he wasn’t much of an artist. He only ever drew one thing - wings. Big wings, small wings, wings of all colors and shapes and sizes. Always on a little boy with brown hair and brown eyes, just like himself, and he imagined what his wings would have looked like if he had them. Sometimes they were white, sometimes black, but mostly they were a dark navy blue.

One time, another kid had to stay in from recess because he had been misbehaving during class. The boy sat right behind Logan, and he could feel him breathing down his neck as he drew.

“Is that you?” The kid whispered loudly when the teacher stepped out of the room. Logan didn’t answer him - the kid had never been particularly nice to him, making fun of his glasses and the fact that he liked to read. He just pulled his paper a little closer to his chest, curling his arm around it protectively.

“Why are you drawing wings on yourself? You don’t have any.” The kid spat, and Logan bent his head, trying to ignore him. “You’re just a freak! You’ll never be normal like the rest of us so you shouldn’t even pretend!”

And before Logan knew what was going on, the paper was yanked out from under his arms and shredded in front of his eyes. The kid had a smirk on his face, glowering down at Logan.

“You’re a loser who’s never gonna be anything! You’re gonna be alone forever cause nobody’s gonna love a weirdo like you!”

When the teacher walked back into the room with a stack of copies, she found Logan with his head on the desk, sobbing his eyes out while the other kid looked uncomfortable, his wings curled around himself to try and hide.

After that, Logan was allowed to visit the library during recess when there were other students who stayed inside.

Logan stopped drawing those pictures once he hit middle school. By that point, he’d accepted that he would never have wings like the rest of the kids around him, and it became his goal to just disappear into the crowd. If he didn’t draw attention to himself, then the bullies would leave him alone.

Though that also meant Logan also didn’t make many friends during his school years. Distancing himself from everyone made that pretty much impossible. He told himself he didn’t care - he had his studies and his books to keep him entertained, and he was happy being alone.

He tried to keep that attitude when he went off to college as well, but the universe seemed to have other plans for him.

Logan first met Patton Foster at orientation, when they sat beside each other during opening ceremonies. Logan tried to keep his head down as usual, sitting at the front where nobody else wanted to and reading a book as he waited. But then there was a boy sitting next to him, with curly red hair and huge, fluffy looking gray and brown wings, and Logan braced himself for the inevitable first question he would receive.

“Whatcha reading?”

He blinked. That was not what he expected. He closed the book slightly so the other could read the title, and he gasped.

“Oh, I love that one!”

Logan finally looked up, seeing for the first time the boy’s clear blue eyes and brilliant smile. “Really? I’ve never met anyone who’s read it before.”

“What!? Of course, it’s my favorite! I’ve got my copy in my room right now! It’s even signed!”

“You’ve got a signed copy?!”

“Mhm! Oh, I’m Patton, by the way! Probably should have started with that!” Patton laughed, scratching the back of his head.

“I’m Logan.”

They talked until the orientation activities began, and Patton insisted that Logan join his group as they went to another part of campus. Logan felt his nerves slowly relaxing. Patton seemed to be a kind person - he hadn’t even looked at Logan’s back with that curious expression people normally do when they want to ask but aren’t sure how. He was sure Patton had noticed though, which was why he still kept himself guarded, only letting the conversation drift to light, unimportant topics.

“So what dorm are you in, Logan?” Patton asked as the group was wrapping up and they were splitting off.

“Holly.”

“Oh really? Me too! Do you wanna walk back together?” Patton exclaimed, his wings fluttering with excitement. Logan carefully agreed, suddenly becoming all too aware again of what he was lacking.

They walked back to the dorm hall together, and Logan did notice that Patton was stepping very strangely as he went. Like he was trying to make sure every step actually touched the ground.

“You can fly if you want.” Logan told him as they approached the tall building and Patton was eyeing the balconies above them. The redhead startled, looking at him curiously.

“Really? But what about you?”

Logan shrugged. “It’s a more efficient way to reach your room. I live on the first floor anyways, but even if I had to take the stairs or the elevator, there would be no point in asking you to come with me when you can simply fly up there.”

Patton averted his eyes, suddenly uncomfortable. Logan rolled his own. “You don’t have to pretend you can’t see it. I don’t have wings - it’s impossible to miss that fact. I’m not going to get offended if you bring it up.”

“Well, I... I didn’t want to be insensitive.”

“Unless you were planning on touching my back without my permission to “check if there’s anything there” or lifting me without my permission to “show me what I’m missing,” then I believe you’re perfectly fine.”

Patton’s jaw dropped and his voice dropped to a disbelieving whisper. “People have done that?!”

“Some. Most just keep to long stares and occasional mutters under their breath. It’s nothing I’m not used to.” Logan told him, walking towards the front of the building. He heard Patton running after him.

“But that’s awful! How could people do that to you?!” Patton’s wings bristled, growing to twice their normal size and making him look big and menacing.

Logan shrugged again, fighting to keep his arms at ease at his sides rather than crossing them. “It’s just a fact of life. People gawk at those who are different from them. Some just take it too far. It’s not happening to you, so there’s no need to get worked up about it.”

“Of course there is! Why wouldn’t I get worked up about someone picking on a friend!?”

Friend? Logan slowed, staring at Patton curiously.

“We’re... friends?”

Patton nodded. “Yes! I mean, if that’s ok! I’d like to be your friend, Logan!”

Then Logan did cross his arms, his fingernails digging into his skin as he tried to comprehend what was happening. A friend? Logan didn’t make friends. He never had. But on this first day, there was already someone claiming he wanted to be his friend?

Was it out of pity? Patton didn’t seem like the type, but Logan had never been any good at reading people’s true intentions. True kindness and plain old sympathy looked the same to him, so he tried to avoid both.

Well, if it was false, it would eventually reveal itself. It always did. That was why Logan nodded, hearing Patton squeal happily.

“Awesome! You should come visit my room sometime, my roommate went all-out decorating it! It’s 504, ok? And if you come up on a Sunday, we might have fresh cookies!”

Logan hummed, promising to come up and see him at some point. Then he entered the building and heard the harsh swish of air from Patton lifting off the ground.

Though Logan didn’t know it at the time, that would be the inciting incident that everything would revolve around. That day, his life completely changed directions without him ever realizing it.

As it turned out, Patton was in several of Logan’s classes, so they spent a lot of time together both in class and outside it. After the first few days, any fear of Patton spending time with him out of pity vanished. It was clear that Patton was a genuinely kind person who found Logan interesting for who he was, rather than what he lacked.

Because of that, Logan forced himself to suppress the growing feelings that threatened to surface every time he saw the bubbly young man. This was Logan’s first friend, he didn’t want to ruin that by throwing these new feelings into the mix.

One day, they left the classroom together as always and Patton was happily chattering about a cartoon he’d recently watched when he suddenly stopped and stared at someone. Logan followed his gaze and saw a kid dressed in all black with striking purple hair and huge gray and black wings leaning against the wall and staring at his phone.

“Virgil!” Patton called excitedly, running over and hugging him. The other wrapped an arm around Patton in return, kissing the side of his head. “I didn’t think you had class right now!”

“I don’t. I had to meet with my professor for something, so I figured I’d wait for you.” Virgil told him, and Patton cooed happily.

Logan watched this from a distance, feeling a rock forming in his stomach. Of course Patton already had a boyfriend. He was such a sweet, adorable, genuine person, Logan was foolish to think he was the first person to realize that.

At least it would make it easier to push away his own feelings now, knowing that Patton was already taken. They would stay friends, and Logan was perfectly happy with that. He had to be.

“Logan, c’mere!” Patton waved him over, and Logan forced a neutral smile onto his face as he walked to the two of them. “This is my boyfriend Virgil! Virgil, this is Logan!”

Virgil saluted him lazily with a lopsided smile. “Hey.”

“Nice to meet you.” Logan greeted, eyes flickering between the two of them.

“We were just about to get some lunch, do you wanna come with us?” Patton asked Virgil, and after a moment he nodded.

“Sure, I’ve got a little time.”

“Is that ok, Logan?” Patton asked, and Logan nodded stiffly. “Perfect!”

Logan lagged behind them as they walked to the dining hall. The sidewalk was only wide enough for two people side by side, so he let them have their time alone. After they ate, he made an excuse that he had homework to do and excused himself early, leaving Patton and Virgil alone together.

Patton didn’t treat him any differently after that, but Logan found himself making more excuses to spend time alone. It hurt to be around Patton now, even though Logan had already been planning on not making a move to change their relationship. Just knowing that it wasn’t an option anymore made it too painful to see him. His relationship with Virgil was perfect - they complemented each other in every way. It didn’t help that he also found Virgil extremely attractive as well.

Patton had picked up on his behavior, but Logan told him he thought he might be getting sick and didn’t want him catching it, and that was enough to keep him away for a week or so.

But it didn’t last forever. One day near the end of October, Logan opened his door to find Patton standing outside.

“Patton?”

“Hey Logan! Are you feeling better today?”

Feeling better? Oh, right, he’d mentioned feeling nauseous the day before to avoid having to be around Patton and Virgil.

“O-oh, yes, I’m feeling better. I must have just eaten too much.”

Patton hummed in sympathy. “Well I’m glad you’re doing better, because I wanted to know if you would come watch Roman perform tomorrow afternoon!”

Roman was Patton’s roommate, and on the sky-dance team. Logan didn’t particularly want to go, but he found he couldn’t say no to Patton’s puppy dog eyes.

“When is it?”

The next day, promptly at 2pm, he made his way over to the open field behind the rec center with a blanket, as instructed. A stage had been constructed on the edge of the field, facing away from the river that ran past campus.

Apparently, this performance was part of a larger charity event the school was hosting, and its main draw was the ability to picnic near the river. As such, there were people of all ages walking around. Logan did his best to keep his head down and move quickly to find his friend, and he found himself thankful for once for his lack of wings. It made it much easier to move through the crowd.

He found Patton near the front, lounging on a bright blue blanket with Virgil sitting behind him, absently scrolling through his phone. Patton sat up in excitement as Logan approached, waving him closer.

“Logan! I’m so glad you came, it’s such a perfect day! We’re so lucky!”

“Lucky for Princey, I wasn’t gonna sit out here if it was cold or raining.” Virgil droned, and Patton pouted.

“That’s mean, don’t you want to support him?”

“Oh c’mon Pat, we both know he’d rather be caught dead than get wet and look like a drowned rat while he’s performing.”

Patton seemed to reluctantly agree with that, and as Logan laid his blanket down there was a high pitched squeal from the loudspeakers and an announcement that the performance would start in just a moment.

Logan didn’t know exactly what to expect. He’d always avoided going to sporting events in school, and sky-dance especially. It was pointless to him - why would he go and watch a sport that he had no interest in, and couldn’t even join if he wanted to?

All he knew was that it was a flashy sport, complete with embellished costumes, intense makeup, and props. From what little he knew about Patton’s roommate, it seemed to suit him perfectly.

Music came to life through the speakers, and a young man came walking out on stage in time with the beat. As expected, he had on a flashy costume, a white outfit with gold embroidery running across it, and a red sash crossing over his chest. But the costume was nothing compared to his wings.

At first glance they looked white, but as the young man began to dance to the music, the stage lights bounced against his wings and he realized that they had been decorated with iridescent threads, reflecting a full rainbow onto the black curtains on the side of the stage.

Even as the music picked up and the rest of the team ran out on stage and took flight into the air, Logan kept his eyes fixed on that first dancer. When he took off into the air, Logan saw that he had pieces of translucent fabric wrapped around his wrists and ankles, which trailed behind him as he flew.

Suddenly, Logan wished he hadn’t written the sport off so quickly, because he was mesmerized. Every movement was part of a larger dance, and with every dancer in sync, it was easy to forget that it wasn’t just one person performing.

“That was amazing!” Patton cheered as the dancers took a bow, looking over at Logan and gently tapping him on the shoulder. “Are you ok?”

Logan shook his head to break himself out of his trance. “That was... unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.”

“The sky-dance team here is really good! They’ve gone to nationals almost every year, apparently!”

“I can see why.” Logan responded to Patton, staring at the now empty stage as the performers scattered into the crowd. Then he noticed that the dancer he’d been so entranced by seemed to be making a beeline for them.

He was even prettier up close. His skin was perfect and he had gorgeous brown eyes, and his wings looked incredibly soft. Logan suddenly had a strong urge to run his fingers through the downy feathers, and he clamped his arms at his sides to keep himself still.

“That was incredible, Roman! You looked great!” Patton squealed, jumping to his feet and throwing his arms around the dancer. Roman laughed, hugging him back.

“I think you mean incredibly extra. Look at you, you look like you just walked out of the circus.” Virgil stood up, teasing Roman as the latter made a face at him.

“You’re just jealous that my wings look better than yours!”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

Roman rolled his eyes, moving away from Patton and tugging Virgil into a one armed hug. Then he pressed a kiss to Virgil’s check, leaving a red mark from the lipstick he’d been wearing.

“Aww, come on!” Virgil whined, tugging himself out of Roman’s grip and wiping at his cheek with his sleeve, only managing to smudge the lipstick more.

“Me next!” Patton cheered, offering his cheek to Roman for a kiss too, which Roman happily obliged.

Logan was confused, and Patton saw it on his face when he looked back. “What’s the matter Logan?”

“I thought... that you and Virgil were dating?”

“Hmm? Oh, we are!”

Logan blinked, pointing at Patton’s cheek. “But...”

“I’m dating Roman too! We’re all dating each other! It’s called polyamory, and I--”

“I know what it is.” Logan interrupted him quickly, and Patton pursed his lips. “I just... didn’t know you were.” He tried to keep his tone casual, not accusatory or hopeful.

Patton sighed. “Yeah, I was a little scared to tell you at first, cause not everyone’s ok with it, you know? But... well, I realized that I really wanted to ask you something, but I needed to know if you were ok with it first.”

“Ok with... what?” Logan asked, his heart jumping into his throat. Could Patton be saying what he thought he might be saying?

“I... really like you, Logan. And I’d really like to go out with you, but if you’d rather be with a monogamous partner, then I’d understand--”

“Yes!” Logan shouted, then panicking and covering his mouth when he realized how loud it was. “Y-Yes, I would... I would like that.”

Patton’s smile grew and he tackled Logan in a hug. Logan slowly returned it, seeing Virgil and Roman smiling at him as well.

As they separated, Patton suggested they all go get something to eat from the vendors across the field. They agreed, and Patton grabbed his hand and walked side by side with him.

Logan couldn’t help but give the hand a small squeeze, knowing he would never be able to convey the full extent of his gratitude and love.

Patton squeezed back, and Logan got the feeling that he already knew.

#LAMP #CALM #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #tsshipmonth2020

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allisonswrittenwords · 5 years ago

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Happy (belated) Valentine’s Day!

Better late than never, being that it is Valentine’s Day weekend and all.

When I was trying to think of what I wanted to write about for Valentine’s Day, needing the obligatory holiday post and all, I thought about things I liked as a kid that represented love. Before Valentine’s Day parties at school, I was a kid who was home most days, watching cartoons and playing with my brother. One thing we enjoyed together as little kids was listening to Teddy Ruxpin tell us stories. Before we could read the books, we would look at the pictures while Teddy told the story. I had seven book-and-tape sets – there were so many more – 39 in the storybook series, as well as cassettes in the Answer Box and Picture Show) – and one of those sets was about love. Specifically, the love between a main character and a one-off character.

Grubby’s Romance is the seventh adventure book-and-tape set in The World of Teddy Ruxpin series. The story was also adapted into an episode the animated The Adventures of Teddy Ruxpin, which pulled its episodes directly from the cassette tape stories. That episode aired as the seventh episode of season one.

“A Most Unusual Experience”

I’ll take “Reviews of Allison’s Written Words for $500, Alex.”

I can make jokes, it’s my site!

Anyway, this story tells of the time that Teddy Ruxpin, Grubby, and Newton Gimmick had a most unusual experience, involving Gimmick’s newly invented “Portable Reducing Machine.” This more portable device operates much like Gimmick’s larger shrinking machine (using The First Crystal, Imagination, which helps shrink and grow the characters), but as the name says, is portable and can be taken along for a journey.

The trio is off to find clues about the other six crystals (Honesty, Trust, Bravery, Friendship, Freedom, and The Black Box) from The Hard to Find City to make it work properly, so they fire up the Airship and prepare to head off in search of those clues.

However, someone else is quite interested in their adventure: Tweeg. And he’s annoyed with Gimmick’s success as an inventor (man, Tweeg must be a terrible inventor!). And the arrival of Gimmick’s two new friends has caused some consternation with Tweeg, who finds them to be an interference.

He sends L.B. The Bounder to “get rid of” Teddy, Grubby, and Newton.

L.B., curious about the device sitting there out in the open, presses the red button on the Portable Reducing Machine, shrinking the trio – and the Airship – down to a very tiny size! Tweeg is thrilled about this, believing the trio to have disappeared.

Of course, the type of day to fly the Airship is perfect when it is normal size, but when it is super tiny and you’re contending with gale force winds, you’re going to run into some problems. Like a “leaf in the wind,” the group is blown into a forest, far away from Newton Gimmick’s home.

The group encounters The Snail, and after asking for his help in locating Newton’s house, decide to go with him to the Annual Spring Dance (he’s late, as usual). The Snail suggests asking the butterflies for help in locating home (the bees are too difficult to ask), and the group arrives at the dance.

Everyone in the forest was there, and that’s when Grubby spots her…

“I Get A Glimpse Of You Out of the Corner Of My Eye…”

Grubby sings a song about his encounter with the love at first sight, spotted from across the room, a Caterpillar named Karen. Despite his reservations about dancing with her, he does. For the next few days, he spends so much time about Karen, as Newton and Teddy figure out a way to get back home. Theirs is a love equated to the twinkle of an eye.

But as fast as they fall in love, Karen begins to behave strangely, building a shell around herself as Grubby watches with sadness. Karen can’t stop herself, and explains that she knows it is what she is supposed to do, and Grubby, beside himself with this, waits for days by the shell. Newton and Teddy discuss this, and Teddy realizes that Karen built a cocoon around herself, as she is a caterpillar and is about to become a butterfly.

By the time Teddy and Newton get to Grubby to tell him this fact, Karen has already emerged from her cocoon. And much to Grubby’s delight, she is something equally amazing to him.

A Beautiful Butterfly

Karen has become a beautiful butterfly during her time in her cocoon shell, and tells her new friends that she remembers The Snail saying that butterflies could lead the Airship home. With Karen and the other butterflies leading the way, the Airship travels back to Newton’s home, landing is successfully.

After landing and positioning itself the same way it was before it was shrunk to a very small size, Grubby asks Karen to push the green button on the Portable Reducing Machine, which restores the Airship and its occupants to normal size.

And thankfully, it works. Because most of Gimmick’s inventions don’t. Thank goodness he got this one right!

Goodbyes

Grubby knew it was only an accident that allowed him to be in Karen’s world, and with a tear in his eye, he says goodbye to his love, as she and the other butterflies fly away to fill the summer sky with beauty.

Of course, Tweeg is super unhappy with this turn of events. Which just means that Teddy, Grubby, and Newton are safe…for now.

You can listen to Honey, I Shrunk Teddy Ruxpin – er, Grubby’s Romance – as it was intended on Lost Bedtime Story Classics. This channel has a great and extensive (read: almost complete) collection of Teddy Ruxpin stories, among other treats.

youtube

Upload via Lost Bedtime Story Classics

The Adventures of Teddy Ruxpin

As I said, the story appears as an early episode of the television series, but has some extra scenes in the form of a secondary storyline to pad out the run time. The audio adventures run 16 minutes each, but the television series was 21 minutes without commercials.

The series was mostly serialized, but had connecting plots and story arcs within the same week, including the original stories as well as new stories developed for the television series, greatly expanding on the adventures the trio takes. The series aired for 65 episodes over two seasons between 1986 and 1987, ending when Worlds of Wonder faced financial difficulties (they later went into bankruptcy in 1988). Unfortunately, the show ended in a cliffhanger on October 23, 1987 due to this.

youtube

Upload via Jack W. Tweeg

The episode had its own videocassette release, which involved the use of the terrifying man-sized suit from the live action Teddy Ruxpin videos.

youtube

Upload via redilliop

It’s nice to know the mouth moved on the suit, but man was this frightening!

Takeaways

I loved Teddy Ruxpin, and I don’t really have a personal preference as far as the stories went. I remember really liking Grubby’s Romance because of the Portable Shrinking Machine, since these plots in cartoons always seemed to fascinate me as a little kid. As an adult, it seems like no cartoon was complete without a main character facing down shrinking. It is kind of like how science fiction series always have a body switching episode.

Just remember friends, I couldn’t have cared less about the romantic plot line, I liked the shrinking plot line!

But this was a nice story, especially the song Grubby sings about falling in love! Grubby is an upbeat character, but he always had an Eeyore-sound to his voice, so you kind of rooted for him to fall in love. Even if it was accidental.

And Now, You!

Do you have a favorite story from the Teddy Ruxpin series, be it the cassettes or the cartoon? I’d love to know your favorite stories/plots, as well as your memories of Teddy Ruxpin.

In 2016, I wrote about the live action Teddy Ruxpin taking two kids on a trip to help them fall asleep, but I haven’t really done much with Teddy since then. I feel like I should – there’s so much to explore with the series, with YouTube having plenty to see and hear, probably more than many of us Teddy Ruxpin owners ever heard as kids.

I hope you had a nice Valentine’s Day, and may you feel the kind of love that Grubby felt, but hopefully not accidentally.

And hopefully, it isn’t “flighty.”

Have a great rest of the weekend!

(Accidental) Love is in the air for Grubby, when he, Teddy Ruxpin, and Newton Gimmick are accidentally shrunken and wind up in a village of bugs. Grubby falls in love with one of them. Is this a love that is meant to be? Happy (belated) Valentine's Day!

#ValentinesDay #Grubby #Love #Teddy Ruxpin #The Adventures of Teddy Ruxpin #The World of Teddy Ruxpin #Worlds of Wonder

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ducktracy · 5 years ago

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56. bosko’s knight-mare (1933)

release date: june 8th, 1933

series: looney tunes

director: hugh harman

starring: carman maxwell (bosko), rochelle hudson (honey)

i wonder what this cartoon could possibly be about. as the title suggests, bosko dreams that he’s a knight in medieval times, but quickly realizes it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.

this opening is almost exactly like the opening to an itch in time! bosko (elmer) is reading a book by the fire, lounging in his rocking chair, whereas bruno (whatever the dog’s name is in that cartoon) is asleep, waking up to scratch at a flea.

bosko excitedly tells bruno the story he’s reading about knights, but bruno is asleep. undeterred, bosko continues his read until the radio signals that it’s 8pm. he turns the channel and enjoys “knights are bold”, but falls asleep. listening to a song about knights and reading about knights, i wonder where this could possibly go. side note, i guess that’s carman maxwell voicing bosko? it doesn’t sound like johnny murray, and of course rochelle hudson is the only voice credit i’ve found. he sounds a LOT more like mickey mouse here, moreso than usual. pretty interesting, i wonder if he’ll always continue to sound like that? his voice seems to have been fluctuating as of late.

you guessed it. bosko dreams he’s a knight, perched on a gallant horse. he sings a few bars of “knights are bold”, later switching over to “young and healthy”. his faithful companion bruno is right behind him, also iron clad.

bosko approaches a castle, guarded by a moat. he does a yell (very similar to the one the hippo does in lady, play your mandolin!) and the drawbridge drops down for him. a looney tunes staple as various doors open to reveal the inside of the castle—and a trio of squires trumpeting a fanfare. their helmets snap shut in the middle of their blaring noise, and thusly cutting their trumpets in half. great gag of the squires playing on their broken trumpets, the sound tinny and high pitched.

eagerly, bosko and bruno cross the bridge, each doing a little dance. bosko slides out of his suit of armor to the tune of “shave and a haircut”, and barges in on the knights of the round table.

here’s somethint your math teachers and history textbooks don’t teach you: the knights of the round table were actually the marx brothers. huh! who’da thunk it? i love all of the anachronistic elements here—bosko’s jazzy dancing and singing and the inclusion of the marx brothers all in the medieval era. it makes the entire premise a lot funnier. the marx brothers sing, and there’s a great visual of two knights clinking their beer glasses together, the beer rising up in the air and then catching them with the next clink. there’s a great dancing sequence with “42nd street” blazing in the background. i love the overlay of bosko dancing and the knights dancing in the background! the quality of these cartoons has improved drastically, and will continue to do so! apparently, there was also a scene where laurel and hardy are there, too? research tells me it was cut in the 80s on nickelodeon for time, which is a bummer. i wish i could’ve seen it! maybe there’s another rip of it that has it.

in my last review, i joked about how we were overdue for a kidnapping. i spoke too soon. enter the villain, a dastardly knight singing “knights are bold” on his horse. he wants to woo a certain damsel, who happens to be honey. she’s having none of it, pooh-poohing him and griping “i don’t like that old meanie!” old meanie is the last straw for the knight, and he breaks a padlock with his teeth and breaks into her tower.

honey begs for help, and bosko stops his shindig to run to the rescue (along with his suit of armor, which he dives into). there’s a great shot of the villain climbing the stairs of the tower, and tiny little bosko squeezing in beneath his legs and beating him to honey. i have utmost respect for any animator who has to draw stairs—my condolences!

bosko tells the villain “stop, you mug!”, but to no avail. okay, quick ancedote. so i had talked about yesterday how in bosko’s picture show it sounds like he says “that dirty fuck!”, even though his lip movements say “mug”. i guess this solidifies that he really DOES say mug. it’s one of those things where if you think either of the words, you’re going to hear your desired outcome. how disappointing! i can always imagine.

anyway, the villain takes out a cigar and snaps bosko’s helmet shut on the tip, cutting it off. he then flips bosko’s helmet open like a lighter and lights it. that’s so creative and funny! something about cigars makes them inherently funny to me, especially when you have cute characters or babies chuffing on a big fat cigar. they just look funny to me. a higher air of authority than a measly old cigarette. my ability to find humor in everything comes in handy. the villain blows smoke in bosko’s face and puts him aside with ease.

once more does honey cry for help, but it’s too late. the villain snatches her up and jumps out of the window, aiming to land on his horse below. technically he does, but he drags the horse’s ass with him a few feet in the ground. nevertheless, the horse charges on, its now stretched out body carrying the kidnapper and his damsel in distress.

bosko charges after them via donkey, but a lake blocks their path. the donkey bucks him into the water, where his suit of armor turns into a submarine (brilliant!). he follows the villain to his own castle, perched on top of a mountain with a winding, twisting road. the castle, like all things in 30s cartoons, is sentient, using its drawbridge tongue to throw bosko inside. another great, dizzying stair shot of bosko chasing the villain up the stairs to his chamber.

in the safety of his own tower, the villain slams the door shut to keep bosko out. then, of course, bosko pops out from beneath his bed and shoots him! i love unprecedented gags like these. the villain rolls up his sleeve (which is metal—great gag) and socks bosko right in the face, knocking him unconscious. honey begs for him to wake up, caressing his face.

bosko DOES wake up, but to bruno licking his face instead. bosko bats him away and sleepily stumbles down the hallway in a fugue, stopped only by a suit of armor he just so happens to own. not wanting a repeat of his dream, bosko lets his grudge towards knights known as he uses the battle axe the knight is holding to smash it to pieces. iris out as he happily jumps into the comfort of his own bed.

when i first read the title of this cartoon, i didn’t have high hopes. i’m not a big medieval damsel in distress hero swoops in to save her kind of gal, but i’m actually pleasantly surprised! bosko was endearing as ever and the gags were creative and at their best. the animation was beautiful, from all the dancing scenes to chase scenes, and the music score only uplifts it further. i love the anachronisms in this cartoon (such as the marx brothers), it made it funnier and certainly appealed to the lunacy of looney tunes. overall, worth a watch! these bosko cartoons have been getting better and better, and i’ll be interested to see how the remaining few turn out (10 more reviews til our buddy buddy makes an appearance... the countdown begins).

link!

#lt #bosko’s knight-mare #reviews #long post #racism tw

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anistarrose · 6 years ago

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Some Sunny Day - Chapter 7: Dark Void (Gravity Falls Same Coin Theory)

Summary: An encounter in the Mindscape begins to expose a harsh reality that none of the Pines want to face, Stan least of all.

Warnings: Manipulation through lying, (brief) self-blame

Previous / Next

The Beginning

(The Same Coin Theory is by @dubsdeedubs and @renmorris!)

“There’s nothing down there,” Stan repeated, coils of dark fog winding around his arms and seeping into the sleeves of his suit. “You should have stayed in the real world, Ford.”

In the vending machine behind him, a black liquid began to rise in level, filling it until its lights no longer flickered and the sounds of the piano music grew muffled. Then, the darkness began to seep out and snake across the floorboards like an oil leak, staining everything black.

Ford’s stomach churned, and a sickening sour-sweet taste burned at the back of his throat. “Stanley, you… you have to have heard that song, you couldn’t have not heard —”

Stan tilted his head like a confused dog, expression still impossibly blank. “Song?”

From either Dipper or Mabel, Ford heard a sharp, upset intake of breath, mirroring the tightening feeling in his heart. “What — what did Bill do to you?!” he gasped.

“Bill?” Stan murmured. “Bill’s dead.”

He paused. “Right, Stanford?”

Finally, there was something flickering in his expression — the faintest hint of fear, of vulnerability, like a frightened child turning to a trusted adult for reassurance. “We killed him. Didn’t we?”

“You’re scared of what’s behind that machine,” Ford realized aloud. Curling his hands into fists to hide how much they were shaking, he added: “Stanley, I know it’s frightening, but you can’t just… trap yourself in some fantasy where everything’s alright. I’m sorry, but in order to fix this, you have to admit that Bill isn’t —”

Stan flinched, and as the wave of terror contorted his face, a bolt of blue lightning flew across the room, illuminating its every detail for a few brilliant microseconds.

“T-there’s nothing down there, I told you!” Stan stumbled away from his family, pressing his back to the dripping, almost unrecognizable vending machine. At his feet, a whirlpool of darkness grew, throwing off tendrils that struck the few remaining light patches and drowned them in shadow.

“Grunkle Stan!” Dipper and Mabel cried out in unison, just as Soos yelled “Mr. Pines!” and stepped forwards —

The Shack shuddered, floorboards torn apart beneath Soos’s feet. From beneath them, there erupted a geyser of cold, churning, all-consuming blackness —

“Soos!” Mabel yelled, reaching forward — but his form had already vanished into the plume of dark water. “Soos! Soos, say something! Are you —”

“If you won’t leave,” Stan interrupted, speaking in only a whisper yet somehow becoming the most commanding voice in the room, “then I guess I’ll have to…”

He made a motion like he was snapping his fingers, but no noise came. Around Soos, the water swirled into a perfect sphere, floating off the ground and towards the impossibly high ceiling until it disappeared into the ink-black clouds.

“Grunkle Stan, t-that wasn’t you, was it?” Dipper stammered. “You wouldn’t —”

Stan stared downwards as the fog around him thickened, droplets of darkness condensing on his fingers and then rolling off, joining the rivers that carved their way between upturned floorboards. They flowed stronger and stronger, wider and wider, splitting off separate channels that wound around the Pines and forming a constantly shifting web.

Dipper pulled Ford back from one of them, only to nearly stumble into another himself before Ford caught him. His knuckles were white as he gripped Ford’s hand.

“There’s nothing to be scared of,” Stan said.

“Stanley…” Ford whispered. “Stanley, please…”

Mabel took a single cautious step towards Stan, watching the floor carefully, but one of the darkest clouds above released an absolute waterfall of a downpour, sending a wave of blackness cascading down towards her —

Without a moment to spare, Ford summoned a glowing rectangular blue barrier above her, tilted to direct the water back towards the foggy chasm — but even then, Mabel barely had enough time to dive out of the way before it shattered, its fragments dissolving into darkness.

“Run,” Ford choked out, wiping dark splashes off his face with a trembling arm. When Dipper and Mabel turned to him in shock, he raised his voice: “Run! It’s too dangerous to stay here!”

Because Ford had been horribly mistaken, because this just couldn’t be the real Stan, because Stan would never do anything like this, no matter how frightened he was…

…would he?

No. No, he just couldn’t.

“It’s Bill!” Ford shouted to the kids — it has to be — and with that, another bolt of lightning tore through the air, evaporating fog away for a single moment before Stan screamed, a huge wave appearing behind him and chilling the whole room as it surged towards Ford and the kids —

They ran, not having any time to try to find what had happened to Soos, not having any time to look down at their footing — only time to pray to blind luck that none of them would step in a riptide current of darkness, and be carried away into whatever void awaited them.

Fighting against all his survival instincts, Ford turned back for just a moment and saw that Stan was following them, wading through the surging waves like they were nothing.

“I don’t want to hurt you!” Stan cried, and in any other situation, the sheer anguish in his voice would have been more than enough to make Ford believe him.

“I’m just doing this to keep you away from — from it! To try to protect you from it!”

“But from what?!” Dipper yelled over the sound of crashing waves, coming to a halt altogether as he turned to face Stan. “If it’s Bill, we need to know about it, so we can —”

The floorboards snapped beneath his feet, spraying gray splinters everywhere and sending him plummeting down to the cold, dark void below. For a split second, his tiny hand still reached out of the water, grasping desperately, futilely, at the jagged edge of one of the planks, but before Ford could grab ahold of it, it was pulled out of his reach, dragged by some impossibly strong current.

Mabel cried out, but the water began to gurgle upwards from the hole left in the floor, slowly at first but then erupting into a raging waterspout. Out of pure reflex, Ford grabbed her and began to run, carrying her away even as she struggled to free herself from his grip.

“We’ll go back for him,” Ford gasped, “I swear. We’ll go back for him and Soos as soon as we can. We won’t be any use to them if we’re — if we’re captured ourselves.”

He took a step onto one of the winding, floating staircases, and it melted, pouring down into the abyss. For a moment, Ford and Mabel hovered in the air like they were in some old-fashioned cartoon, but gravity took hold of them a second later, and for a moment they were falling, the g-force pulling at them and twisting Ford’s stomach —

But they were in the mind, and eventually they imagined themselves to a halt, floating in a sea of thick gray clouds — just plain, cold, uniform gray, stretching on forever in every direction. Stan was no longer anywhere to be seen.

“Grunkle Ford?” Mabel whispered. “Which… which way is up?”

Ford was about to point to above their heads, when suddenly a splatter of black rained up, from beneath their feet. And then there was another, coming from behind them and moving in a nearly horizontal direction.

Ford cursed in an alien language.

Of course, of course. This whole area disregarded the laws of gravity; he’d seen that with all the staircases. The way that felt like up to him, the way it felt like he’d fallen from, could easily just be a trick, an illusion — in fact, he’d bet that it was.

An illusion… Something was nagging at him, something he knew he was forgetting. Something important, something dangerous.

“Mabel, could you pick a direction for us to go?” he asked quietly. “I… I don’t know any way to get out of here, other than trying everything until something works.”

There was, of course, always the chance that they’d just get more lost, but what other choice did they have? No one was coming to help them, and there had to be at least an hour remaining before Stan’s sedative wore off and he woke up, if not even longer…

Mabel nodded, and pointed a bit above and to the left of them. “Let’s try that way, I guess?”

“That’s good,” Ford replied, and then added more quietly: “I’m… I’m so sorry that I put you in danger like this. You’ve been very brave.”

Mabel squeezed his arm. “We wouldn’t have let you leave us outside the Mindscape anyways. You said you knew that, didn’t you?”

“That’s true.”

They floated upwards (?) through the fog in silence for a moment.

“Keep squeezing my arm like that. Make sure we don’t get separated.”

“I will,” Mabel replied. Then she frowned. “If I get… if I end up like Dipper and Soos, you’ll go on without me, right?”

“In the moment… I may have to. But I’ll come back. I promise.”

“I know you will, Grunkle Ford. But… if you get captured, what do I do? How do I save you and the others?”

“I…”

What was Ford supposed to say — that he had no plan other than relying on sheer determination, possibly with an additional hint of self-martyrdom if required?

Something cold splattered against his arm, bleeding through his coat and sweater, turning him numb and blurring his vision…

“Grunkle Ford!” Mabel yelled, as if from a distance. “Grunkle Ford, you’re falling!”

He shook his head, and again he could feel Mabel gripping his other arm, the only thing keeping him from plummeting into the foggy abyss.

Let me fall, let me forget about all this, let me rest… part of his mind kept saying, but he managed to focus on the idea of his body levitating, and he floated back up to Mabel’s side, narrowly dodging another shower of water.

“It — it’s messing with my thoughts. We have to keep moving.”

Mabel started to say something, but more rain began to fall from all directions, and she and Ford both summoned a spherical barrier around them — Ford’s half metallic and glowing blue like alien technology, Mabel’s half pink and plastic like a hamster ball. But the darkness ate away at both sides like acid, spewing out dark wisps of vapor that blurred into the endless expanse of gray clouds and darkened them even more…

“We can’t block it off,” Ford realized. “We — we have to just make a break for it, and dodge all of it somehow —”

But I’m not even sure we’re heading the right way. I might as well just let it consume me — it’ll be a peaceful way to go out, at least…

“Let’s go!” Mabel told him, pointing to a direction where the rain seemed less intense and pulling Ford along. He barely snapped out of his thoughts in time to dodge a splash from the barrier as it collapsed in on itself fully, melting together towards its center and spraying off rain like some sort of dying star.

What was he thinking? He couldn’t just give up and pretend like nothing was wrong — Mabel needed him, Stan needed him…

From the clouds, a familiar dark figure materialized, drops of shadow slowly dripping off of his suit. Frowning very faintly, Stan flicked his hand, and a torrent of water rained down from above, swirling like a descending tornado and heading straight for Ford —

Mabel shoved him out of the way. The cyclone grazed her back, and darkness bled through her sweater, her hair…

She let go of Ford’s arm, and before he could reach back out to her, she floated away from him, limbs hanging limp. A detached, peaceful look spread across her face as she fell, the grey clouds closing around her until it looked as if she might have never been there in the first place.

“She’ll be safe now,” Stan whispered.

Something inside Ford — something that had been lurking somewhere between his desperation to save Stan and his instincts screaming at him to flee, something that had been growing strained ever since finding the vending machine — something snapped.

“What have you done?!” he roared. “What have you done to them?! Bring them back, or I’ll —”

“I’m keeping them safe.” Stan paused, as if unsure whether to continue. “And happy.”

“You’re lying,” Ford growled through gritted teeth. “You’re not Stan, and I was a fool for thinking you were. You’re B—”

“NO!”

Stan shuddered, wrapping his arms around his chest and tucking his hands beneath them. “D-don’t say that! Don’t say that I’m him —”

“I’ll say what I want, because there’s no way Stanley would ever do this. You are not my brother. You’re Bill Cipher, and nothing you say will delude me into believing otherwise —”

Stan let out a sob, his tears spilling out into waves that circled the two of them, cutting them off in every direction except for far, far above. Even beneath the sound of the raging water, Ford could hear Stan repeating, like a ritual:

“I’m not I’m not I’m not I’m not I’m not I can’t be I CAN’T BE I CAN’T —”

Really, honestly, Ford wanted nothing more than to hug him, but he knew the being that resembled his brother had to be an illusion, had to be Bill getting in his head —

In his head.

The nagging feeling from earlier returned to him, erupting into an explosion of panic, and self-hatred, and regret for his own stupidity.

For decades now, he’d taken it for granted that his mind was protected from Bill, his memories safe from interference, with only the occasional vivid dream left vulnerable to the demon. But the metal plate in his head was a physical barrier, not a mental one… which meant that in his body in the real world, it did nothing.

And his consciousness and memories, which he’d willingly projected into another mind, were left exposed.

He — foolishly, irresponsibly, idiotically — had felt safe bringing the kids and Soos into Stan’s mindscape with him because he’d figured that he’d be immune to the type of tricks Bill could play, that he would be capable of snapping the others out of it if the need arose. But he was just as vulnerable as they were, of course he was.

I’m such a fool. I just put everyone in even greater danger. There are so many decisions, spread out over so many years, that I could have made differently to prevent this.

Just a few yards away from him, Ford saw Stan’s face contort into a grimace, ink-black droplets leaving dark trails as they ran down his cheeks. Ever so slightly, he shook his head, and the whirlpool around them began to draw closer —

Ford launched himself into flight, moving as fast as he could possibly imagine and aiming for the opening at the top of the cyclone — the opening that was growing smaller and smaller with every second. He didn’t have a plan, other than to hope against hope that his thoughts and memories hadn’t been manipulated too much yet, and that he’d be able to continue fleeing from Bill until Stan woke up and he was brought back to the waking world —

The spot of light above him narrowed to a pinprick of light gray within the black, and the water grew closer and closer to him, spraying him with a mist of a thousand comforting thoughts: nothing’s wrong, your brother’s safe, just relax and forget about all these worries —

He had to power through this. He had to keep his thoughts his —

He reached for the opening above him, but the waves closed in around his wrist, numbing his arm and spilling down over the rest of his body. They raged around him, absorbing all light and striking out all thoughts, until the surroundings finally grew calm and uniform and blank.

Where am I, how did I get here, what…

Within the darkness, a single slit-pupiled eye blinked open, black droplets spilling off its lashes.

And then, from behind Ford, someone pressed a gun into his hands.

***

“Hey, Soos, you with me?”

Soos opened his eyes to find himself on the porch of the Shack — the real, colorful one, not the mindscape version — and to see Stan standing in front of him, one hand placed on Soos’s shoulder. He was back to wearing his white t-shirt and red beanie, and the smile on his face was wide, but not too wide. Soos hadn’t felt so relieved since Weirdmageddon.

(Relieved, or confused.)

“Mr. Pines, you’re okay!” he blurted out, wrapping Stan in a bear hug before he could stop himself, but Stan returned it, gently hitting Soos on the back.

“‘Course I am, bud. Remember? You guys got rid of Bill once and for all.”

Soos’s brain felt like it had gotten dust in it like a video game cartridge, and needed to be blown out in order to process his thoughts correctly. “Uh, actually… I’m not really sure if I do remember —”

“You did good back there, Soos.” Stan withdrew from the hug, a football appearing in his hands like it had materialized out of thin air. “Hey, you wanna toss the ol’ pigskin around? We haven’t done that since the one time last summer, have we?”

...then again, maybe remembering wasn’t all that important.

“Sure, Mr. Pines!”

“Alright, then! Go long!”

Soos started jogging out across the field, turning his head over his shoulder to look back at Stan, who was watching with a smile on his face. The first through arced through the air perfectly, landing in Soos’s hands with a satisfying clap.

He still had no idea what had happened to Ford and the kids, but for some reason, he found himself wondering about it less and less as the game of catch went on, until the thought couldn’t have been further from his mind.

***

Dipper stumbled to the ground, barely avoiding the wailing, glowing green specter as it soared over him.

“Heads up, Dipper!” he heard Stan yell, and he reached above him just in time to grab hold of a small rectangular device. On one end, it had two silver antenna, and between them, a conical piece that somewhat resembled a nozzle, while on an adjacent side it had a series of color-coded control buttons and switches.

Pointing the nozzle end at the ghost as it sped towards Ford (who was naturally just holding a camera and smiling without an ounce of concern), Dipper pressed the largest blue button —

A web of holographic, crisscrossing lines sprayed out, shifting in color from pink to purple and back to pink, ensnaring the ghost and automatically pulling it back towards him. It struggled against the net, wailing at an even more off-tune pitch, but it didn’t produce enough force for Dipper to even feel its pull, much less to dislodge the device from his grip.

Perfect!

“Hey, it worked!” Stan whistled. “You really caught yourself a spook!”

“Of course it worked, brother of little faith,” Ford retorted, raising his voice not out of serious anger but simply to be heard over the ghost’s howling. “That adhesive can trap anything, with or without a physical form. You should have seen how extensively Dipper tested it!”

Stan might have offered another good-natured wisecrack in response, but Mabel cut in: “Hey, bro, I get you’re excited about your new pet ghoul and all, but can you get it to quiet down? My ears feel like they’re melting!”

“Oh, uh, right! Sorry!” Dipper flicked a switch on his invention, and the ghost’s cries grew muffled. He turned to Ford, who was holding the camera, and announced: “This concludes today’s episode of Guide to Haunted Mansions with Dipper and the Pines Family! Join us next week, as we examine our new specimen in the lab! You’re not gonna want to miss it!”

Everyone cheered, chanting Pines! Pines Pines! as Ford got one last shot of the mansion’s room to close on.

“We may want want to edit out the part where I mentioned the adhesive,” Ford suggested once the camera was off, “lest some viewers with too much time on their hands realize that it’s of extraterrestrial origin. I’d rather not have the shadow government on our backs.”

Dipper nodded. “Yeah, good catch. I’ll edit it.”

For the briefest of moments as he turned towards the door to leave, he had a faint nagging feeling that something was wrong, that this whole scene was too perfect to be true, but he ignored it. On the way out, Stan gave him a high-five and an affectionate punch on the shoulder.

***

Mabel knew she was falling, knew that she probably shouldn’t be falling, but she couldn’t bring herself to try to stop, to fly back up. She felt peaceful like this — and what would she even go back to? More of Stan acting like that? Acting like…

With what felt like her last spark of energy, she pulled her arms and legs close to her body and squeezed her eyes shut.

I just wish Bill would leave us alone…

…

She pulled her sweater tightly over her head and knees, and settled down onto the ground.

“I just wish summer could last forever…” she found herself murmuring.

“T-that might be possible!”

“Sweater Town is not accepting incoming calls right now.”

“M-M-M-Mabel, it’s me!”

She peeked her head out of her sweater, finding a forest bathed in the red light of the setting sun. “Wha? Who said that?”

“I-I-I can help!” Blendin flickered into existence before her, his suit showing the briefest glimpses of an autumn schoolyard, and then, a burning ruin — both so quick they seemed almost imagined.

“The… time travel guy? What are you doing here?”

This all felt so wrong, for so many different reasons…

“You said you don't want summer to end, right? D-did-did I hear that right?”

“Yeah... why are you asking?”

Mabel didn’t trust this sort-of-friend of hers one bit, didn’t want to know where this conversation was going. It just felt chillingly, inexplicably sinister…

“Look, maybe it's against the rules, but you once did a favor for me, so I thought I could help you out!”

The setting sun gleamed off Blendin’s goggles, making them gleam yellow instead of red for just a moment. “It's called a time bubble, and it prevents time from going forward! Summer in Gravity Falls can last as long as you want it to!”

There was a feeling of déjà vu buzzing at the back of her mind like a fizzing caffeinated drink, faint but anxious, telling her she’d done all this before, that this had already happened —

She shook her head, and the buzz faded.

“Really?” she asked Blendin. “But… how does it work?”

Blendin pressed a button on his watch, and a holographic projection appeared in vivid light blue, showing a cracked sphere with four ducts connecting it to a striped base. Mabel had never seen it before in her life, or at least, she shouldn’t have, but the sight of it sent a chill through her.

“I just need you to get a little gizmo for me from your uncle. It's something small, he won't even know it's missing!”

“No,” Mabel whispered without knowing why, and then repeated, louder: “No. That — that thing’s dangerous!”

How do I know, why do I know this —

“What?!” Blendin exclaimed. “No no no, it’s — it’s perfectly harmless, I promise! And — and I can’t make the time bubble without it, so just hand it over, or I’ll have to —”

Mabel pulled Dipper’s backpack close to her and sprung to her feet, kicking Blendin in the knee and making a break for the Shack. “Dipper! Grunkle Ford! Grunkle Stan! Help!”

Time and space felt distorted, like her legs were carrying her further with each step than they should have been able to. Somehow, without actually looking back, she could see Blendin following her, hot on her heels at first but then slowly starting to lag behind…

Ford burst out of the Shack and fired a blast from his stun gun, striking Blendin square in the chest. He crumpled to the ground, the world turning gray for a second as a burst of yellow flew out from his form. Then color returned to the forest — no longer red, but rather, the peaceful, beautiful pink of a late August sunset.

Somewhat numbly, Mabel handed Ford the backpack, and he rifled through it quickly as Dipper and Stan rushed over, looking concerned.

“The rift is still stable,” Ford reported, his frown still tight with worry. “Now, Mabel, are you alright? Bill didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“I think? Does… does this mean Weirdmageddon won’t happen?”

Ford put a hand on her shoulder. “No. No, it won’t. I still have to seal this rift, but once that’s done, Bill will never be able to physically manifest in our dimension this way — thanks to you seeing through his tricks. We’ll be safe.”

Why did she even know what Weirdmageddon was? Why was no one surprised by her knowing? What was happening to —

“Mabel, I was so worried!” Dipper hugged her. “I’m so sorry for what I said — I’m not going to stay in Gravity Falls, I know that now…”

The apology barely registered for Mabel, the words muffled by the fog in her head. She’d already forgiven him, a long time ago.

“It’s okay, Dip,” she managed to say. “I don’t blame you…”

As Ford headed inside to seal the rift, Dipper following him, Stan and Mabel were left alone. He gave her a gentle pat on the back.

“Hey, pumpkin, you okay? There’s no need to be scared of nothin’ anymore. The triangle can’t do jack now.”

There was a gleam in Stan’s eyes that Ford and Dipper had lacked, Mabel realized. He seemed less distant. More real. More reminiscent of everything that felt wrong about all this.

“A-are you okay, Grunkle Stan? Bill didn’t do anything to you?” she blurted out, grabbing him by the arm.

It couldn’t be this easy. They couldn’t really be safe. Stan, especially, couldn’t really be safe, it just didn’t feel right —

“Don’t worry, kiddo. I’m fine.” He smiled to her. “I’d tell you if I wasn’t. I promise.”

“I know…” she told him, even though she really, really didn’t know anything. Her thoughts were jumbled, jumping around like popcorn in one of those glass-walled machines, striking the sides of her skull and exploding and just creating so much chaos that she just couldn’t find the right ones, couldn’t remember what she should have, what she needed to remember —

Stan hugged her, and the chaos faded to a distant roar, faint and consistent and easy to tune out.

“Bill’s never laid a hand on me,” he assured her. “I’ve got nothin’ to do with him — unless I run into him when he’s giving one of you guys a hard time, but I’ve got a feeling he won’t be doing much of anything like that anymore. That rift thing is what he wants from Ford, right? And he can’t get that now.”

Mabel nodded. Yeah, that all made sense. Stan was right, of course he was…

“I just… I had a dream, I think. Or a nightmare. Where Bill got into our world, and it — and it was all my fault, and I didn’t want to believe it so I locked myself in this… in this bubble… ”

Bubbles, dream bubbles, prison bubbles, Sweater Town, block out all the bad stuff, hide there forever, lying about it to keep you away from it —

“Must have been a trick that demon played,” Stan murmured, words oddly soothing — almost hypnotizing. “But it wasn’t real. And you’re stronger than that nightmare, I know you are.”

That’s right, everything is alright. Nothing bad happened, nothing was your fault —

But this isn’t real; that all was, Mabel was finally able to put to words. This is the dream, that was reality.

But she didn’t dare say as much out loud. Instead, she whispered: “Thanks, Grunkle Stan, you’re right. I’m… I’m gonna go inside now.”

“No problem, pumpkin,” Stan replied, helping her up. “You ever need anything, just come and ask.”

Mabel nodded, and then, the second she was out of Stan’s sight, she huddled down in the corner and shut her eyes, afraid to look at whatever illusions the dream might summon to tempt her.

Her first thought was that this was Bill’s doing again, that he was trying to trap her, to keep her and Ford and the others from finding where he lurked in Stan’s mind… but deep down, she knew that wasn’t it.

She remembered what it had felt like to be in the bubble Bill created, and like this one, it certainly had given her what she wanted — or at least, what she believed she wanted. But this… this illusion was more powerful. A stronger pull, a more irresistible temptation, so strong that she almost hadn’t even realized it was all a dream.

This was what her heart had yearned after for the past ten months. To be free of this guilt, this knowledge that she’d almost gotten her family killed.

And if anyone was going to understand that, it wasn’t going to be Bill. It was going to be Stan.

Stan, who must have been so afraid for his family’s sakes. Stan, who just wanted them all to be not just safe, but happy. Stan, who had always been so good at lying about his own happiness, so of course he would be good at lying to make others happy, too.

Stan, who was so similar to Bill, yet even more different.

“I’m gonna find a way to save you, Grunkle Stan,” Mabel whispered. “I’m gonna find a way to make it so you don’t have to lie. I promise.”

She told herself she wasn’t being hypocritical for tuning out the intrusive thoughts of what if he can’t be saved? and what if the truth is even worse than you think?

Because those thoughts couldn’t be true, she just wouldn’t let them be true…

What if there was never anyone else here that Stan needed saving from?

What if he only needs saving from himself?

***

A high-pitched, horrifyingly familiar voice screamed from all around Ford, the darkness seeping out of his surroundings and condensing together into one perfectly equilateral triangle.

“Oh, now what do we have HERE? Six-Fingers really thinks he can figure out a way to run the portal ‘safely?’ News flash, BRAINIAC: you’ve never —”

Ford found himself squeezing a trigger.

A brilliant beam of light shot out at Bill — blasting a hole in his chest, sparking a fire that consumed his triangular form in an instant, raging bright orange like burning sodium. For just a moment, there was an awful shriek of panic and horrified realization, but before Ford could even move to cover his ears, it was gone — it echoed for just a moment, and then faded out entirely.

Faintly red-orange embers were drifting to the ground, burning out and joining all the other particles that made up the dirt floor as if they had never been a part of anything else, a part of anything dangerous. Their orange glow disappeared, replaced by the faint blue light that the portal machinery projected, humming steadily and peacefully.

It was all very quick, and very decisive, and very not right. The world seemed to shift around Ford, and he felt as if he too was drifting to the ground, extinguished —

A steady hand caught him by the arm and held him until he regained his balance. A gruff, comfortingly familiar voice spoke from behind him:

“Hey, Stanford, you okay? We did it, buddy. Bill’s dead. We’re safe.”

Unsteadily, Ford turned, and saw Stan looking at him — his long brown hair was a mess, and his red jacket was singed, but his expression was comforting, full of relief. The portal cast its blue glow over him, too, flickering slightly like a fire…

“Where… what year is it?” Ford mumbled.

“It’s 1982,” Stan replied, patting him gently on the back. “You and Fidds made an invention to blast Bill out of existence. You remember that, right?”

“The portal… why is it…”

“We restarted it as a trap — because the gun only worked on him if he took a physical form. Is… is this coming back to you?”

“…Right,” Ford replied. “Right. I… I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me —”

“Hey, it’s okay. I… I get why this might be a lot to take in, but… you’re safe from Bill now. He’s never gonna hurt anyone again.”

“He’s…”

He’s really gone? I’m safe from him? You’re safe from him?

“Stanford! Are ya alright?” Fiddleford was running over to them now, slamming the door to the control chamber closed behind him.

“He’s gonna be,” Stan said confidently. “It all worked out just like we planned — Ford just needs a second to —”

“No,” Ford whispered. “Fiddleford, why are you… why are you…?!”

“Pardon?” Fiddleford asked, looking to Stan uncertainly.

“Young,” Ford finally choked out. “Why are either of you young? Why is Stan —”

Then the truth dawned on him, and as obvious as it seemed, it was a struggle to choke out, a struggle to admit. “This — this isn’t real, is it?”

“Whoa, Ford!” Stan put a hand on Ford’s arm. “Calm down. It’s okay, it’s —”

“It’s absolutely not okay!” Ford shouted, pulling himself away. “And you — you’re not even denying it!”

Stan let out a sad, quiet sigh.

“Does it really matter if this is real, Ford?”

“Yes! Yes, it does! It…”

Stan and McGucket were both staring at him, but now that Ford knew what to look for, there was a dullness to Fiddleford’s eyes, a lack of detail in his expression. While Stan… felt more real, more genuine. The bodies that all of them wore now were illusions, but the real Fiddleford wasn’t present in any capacity, as opposed to Stan, who was very much himself.

And Ford couldn’t bring himself to be that angry with the real Stan.

“I’m sorry. I just…”

He felt like he should remember something important about how he got here, something that might explain why Stan was here but Fiddleford wasn’t really, but reaching for the memory felt like plunging into a violent current, dark and chaotic and impossible to navigate —

What have you done? What have you done to them?

I’m keeping them safe. And happy.

“Ford, you don’t have to stay here,” Stan told him. “This isn’t some… some prison, some diabolical trap. I just… I thought you could use a break from reality. Some time to relax, in a place where… things went better. Where you can actually do the things you always wished you could do.”

“So — so you created this? Not Bill?”

“Yeah. Remember, we killed Bill in real life, too, it just… took a lot longer.”

Ford’s heart was pounding, like his body, his instincts, knew something his conscious mind didn’t — but Stan gently took him by the shoulders and turned him around to face the portal, its glow hypnotizing.

“In this world, it’s safe to use. You can explore anywhere you want to explore, alongside anyone you want to adventure with. You can even meet anyone you mighta given up on seeing again.”

Ford could think of a number of different people he’d given up on seeing again, had parted ways with far too soon, people for whom he would rejoice at an opportunity to talk to, even knowing they weren’t really there — but he couldn’t let himself get caught up in this illusion. He’d been in the middle of something important when he’d gotten pulled into this dream, he was sure of it. It was just the specifics that kept eluding him…

But then again, he’d already spent a fair amount of time here, hadn’t he? He could surely afford to waste just a little bit more.

“Ten minutes,” he told Stan. “That’s all.”

Then added: “...maybe fifteen, if we’re in the middle of something when the first ten minutes end. But that’s the absolute most.”

He knew it was a dangerous concession to be making, but he could control himself, of course he could.

(And…. ten minutes did feel unfairly brief. So did fifteen minutes, for that matter…)

Stan’s face lit up with excitement and maybe, just a hint of relief?

“Then to the portal!” he cheered, voice full of contagious enthusiasm.

“To the portal!” Ford echoed, oblivious as the watch on his wrist sublimated into a plume of dark fog.

***

“I've been lying about it to try to keep you away from it! To try to protect you from it!” — Stanley Pines, Scary-oke

***

The way I see it, Stan obviously loves his family and understands their desires far better than Bill could, but that also means the illusions he summons are even more powerful and tempting than the ones Mabel and company overcame in Weirdmageddon…

(Also, I recently wrote a Same Coin one-shot, The Phoenix in the Birch Trees, that can be taken as a prequel to this story. You don’t have to read that one to understand anything that goes on in SSD, of course, but I thought I’d leave it here in case anyone who missed it before is interested!)

and yeah the title is a pokemon reference. because, you know, nightmare demons who don't actually mean harm but trap people in dreams to protect themselves

#gravity falls #same coin theory #stanley pines #bill cipher #stanford pines #dipper pines #mabel pines #soos ramirez #fiddleford mcgucket #fic: some sunny day #rosalia writes fic

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semiwriting · 6 years ago

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Grizzly Bears

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There’s a storm coming. That’s what the news said. I hopped off the couch and went through the screen door onto the porch. It was pretty sunny right now, not that hot, but I didn’t want the bother of the sunlight in my eyes anyway. “Daddy! A storm’s coming!” I yelled out to the field where Daddy was pulling weeds out from crops. He stood up to look at me. “How long?” He yelled back. “They say it’s going to be five days this time!” I retreated back into the house after seeing him nod and turn back to the ground. I heard Todd talking to Mama loudly and saw Russ hop onto the couch with a popsicle. He had slightly lighter brown hair than Daddy, unlike me who had more blonde-ish hair like Mama. Todd...didn’t really have much hair yet. I didn’t know if that was normal for babies. “Did Mama say you could have that?”

“Yes,” Russ swung his legs absentmindedly and reached for the remote to change the channel to a cartoon with bland and flat colors. Mama came into the living room and put her hand on her hip. “Did you tell your daddy about the storm coming?” “Yes, Mama, didn’t you hear me yelling?” “Okay, okay.” Daddy came back inside, the screen door slamming back and creaking as it moved. He pulled off his gloves and stuffed them into a pocket in his overalls; he rolled up the sleeves of his sweatshirt and walked over to Mama, kissing her. “We should go to Lee’s house for the storm,” he said to the side, not really at anybody but also to all of us. “Is it just rain, or is there noise with it?” “The TV said just rain, but a lot of it,” Mama said. She leaned her shoulder against the wall and crossed her arms over the floral print of her dress. “Always is, isn’t it?” He circled back around in his spot, keeping a hand on the base of Mama’s back. “You kids pack, alright. A week’s worth, just in case,” Mama told us. There were a few mumbled yeses from us; Russ ran up the stairs excitedly having already finished his popsicle, and I grabbed Todd’s hand and led him up the stairs. We packed our little suitcases, with me helping the boys pack since Todd was too young to know how to fold clothes and Russ would just throw his toys into his bag. “Rita, can you tuck me in?” Russ looked up at me from his bed later that night. “You know, you’re going to be too old to be tucked in soon,” I smiled at him. But I complied anyway, bringing the blankets up to his chin and flattening out the space around him. “Goodnight,” I said to him as I left the room, leaving the door slightly open so the hallway light would comfort him enough until he slept. I went back downstairs, Mama and Daddy now out of their day clothes. Mama was in the kitchen, washing the dishes, and Daddy was hugging her from behind, probably kissing her neck or something. Daddy always doted on Mama like that; he says he’s been in love with her since their schooling days and their fire’s never gone out, whatever that means. I’ve never known love so I guess I wouldn’t know. I started tidying up the living room from the mild chaos that came with Todd and Russ whenever playtime hits. Mama thanked me from the kitchen and asked if I had enough to eat for dinner. “Yes Mama,” I answered her. “When are we going to Lee’s house?” Lee was Mama’s brother. We stayed with him whenever storms come because he had a cellar and we didn’t. Lee’s family were my cousins; we would see Laney and Danny and their mama Gracie. “We’ll leave in two. It’s three days until the storm comes, we don’t want to stay at Lee’s for longer than we have to.” “And we can’t stay too long, anyway, the crops need an eye,” Daddy input with a smile. He came over and squeezed my shoulders together, giving me a kiss on the forehead. “You should go to sleep soon, babygirl.” I smiled to myself. I was excited to go to Lee’s house. We don’t see him often and only go to his house when it’s a five-day storm or more. We usually let the rain irrigate the crops by itself. Especially for noise storms, it could be dangerous if you don’t have a cellar. On Tuesday, we took the drive to Angola; it’s where Lee lives. It was about three hours away. And since the days before storms are unbearably hot, we were allowed to have the windows down. I leaned against the frame of the open window, watching the barren land barely even spotted with skinny trees go by. There were tufts of grass by the road. I imagined the last of the surviving animals lived in those small tufts or the remaining leaves of the trees. Maybe they all turned small and minuscule when the world turned hot. There couldn’t have been that many that died. But Daddy told me when when he was in schooling, he learned that when all the grasses started dying, it hurt a lot of species, and they died too. I saw a small type of rabbit bounce around and stop and look at our car. He sniffed the air and then flew out of sight when our car went by. I looked back inside the car. Russ was sitting in the middle, drawing something that looked like a dragon mixed with a lion. He was always a pretty good drawer; Mama likes to hang his drawings in his room or around the house and stuff. Says it really livens up the place. Todd was sitting at the other end than me, asleep in his car seat. I don’t know how anyone could sleep when they’re sweating this much, but Todd could sleep anywhere. There was one time we were at the grocery store and Russ was trying to convince Daddy to buy some cereal or candy, so I was standing with Mama and Todd for a while. Todd was holding Mama’s hand and ended up nodding off to sleep standing up in the store. “Daddy?” “Yes, babygirl?” “When do I get to go back to schooling and learn about all those animals that died?” He chuckled. “That’s not all you learn in school, you know. But your Mama and I think you can go back this year. With Russ, too.” “I missed a year, though. Is that okay?” “Yes, it’s fine, babygirl.” I got taken out of schooling after my first year of high school because Mama and Daddy said that they didn’t have enough money for another year. So on my year off, I helped them with the farming and selling the crops that Daddy planted. I got to go to town and talk to the locals a lot. Sometimes Mama would come with me, carrying Todd, and walk around town for a little bit. I would stand with baskets of food, selling them to people, and she would talk with the other mamas and their little babies. I don’t know what they would talk about, but sometimes when we got home she would get really sad and hug us a lot. I didn’t like seeing her sad, but I didn’t ever know what to do. And when Daddy got home from the field or the labor work, he would dote on her extra that night and they would watch a movie. I was shaken out of my thoughts when the car suddenly slowed down and pulled up next to a house. Three hours had passed and we were at Lee’s house. He was already coming outside of his house when we pulled up. “Miss Maybelle!” Lee walked up to the car with his arms open. “Mister Leevi!” Mama got out of the car and hugged her brother tightly. I helped the boys get out of the car, and Daddy went to hug Lee as well. “Rita! You grow every time I see you!” Lee smiled widely at me. “Hi, Uncle Lee.” “That’s Lee, to you,” he scooped me up into a hug. “Uncle makes me feel like an old man.” He turned to Russ and Todd and squatted to be at a more equal standing to the two. Russ jumped into his arms with a giddy smile, and Todd tried to run to him but ended up falling flat on his face in the dirt. Daddy helped him up and pulled a tissue out of his pocket to wipe the dirt off his face. Todd wasn’t that discouraged and wobbled over to Lee; for a one year old, he doesn’t cry that much. “You have to face your age sooner or later,” Mama said to him. “You trying to pick a fight, Miss Belle?” He stood with Todd in his arms. “My kids are the same age as yours.” We all traveled inside, beginning to socialize with Aunt Gracie. She was a petite woman, more so than Mama, but somehow Danny was taller than both Aunt Gracie and Lee. Him and Laney came in, smiling despite the occasion. Danny hugged me first. He was seventeen, only two years older than me. Laney was five, the same age as Russ, but was going to turn six in a couple months. “How you been, Rita? Last time you came for a storm was three or so months ago.” He lingered a bit longer than usual when hugging me and kept his arm around me. “Yeah, it’s too bad we only visit during the bad ones.” “But this one’s not supposed to bring any noise, right?” Mama stepped into the conversation. “There was an update, actually. Apparently it’s noise and all,” Lee said, pushing Laney lightly on the back to come say hi to us. Mama bent down to hug Laney and complimented her little dress, making her smile and giggle. “Y’all had a long drive, I’m sure you’re all hungry,” Aunt Gracie smiled to all of us. I disconnected from Danny to reach for the plate of brownies Aunt Gracie set on the table. I gave one to Russ who ripped his in half and took a bite out of one of the halves. “Honey, give some of that to Todd,” Mama picked up Todd who was grabbing out with his little hand to the plate. In response, Russ yelled ‘no’ and shoved one of the halves in his mouth. “Russel!” “Don’t worry, Belle, there’s plenty to go around,” Aunt Gracie giggled. “Hey, city boy? Why don’t I help you bring the bags and stuff down to the cellar?” Lee has been making fun of Daddy since they were teenagers, Mama always said. He didn’t have an accent like the rest of us; he moved out of the city when he was in high school. That’s when he met Mama. “Yeah, sure,” Daddy grinned, heading out to the car with Lee. “Hey, can I show you something?” Danny touched my arm. I looked over to Mama still holding Todd. Her and Aunt Gracie were chatting about something as Russ and Laney ripped up some brownies over a paper plate. Todd was nibbling on a small chunk of brownie, not really paying attention to anything else. “Sure.” I followed him into one of the other rooms. I looked around the room. Nothing really stood out. I faced him. “What did you want to show me?” “I, uh, actually wanted to talk to you about something,” he looked down at his hands, fidgeting with them. “About what?” I stared at his face; he was a bit pink. I heard Lee and Daddy join the conversation back in the kitchen. “I...I know we’re cousins, but--but I have these feelings…” He still wasn't really looking at my face. I peered toward the empty archway to the room. It was the only entrance and exit, and we were far enough from the kitchen that we couldn’t really hear the other conversation, and they probably couldn’t hear ours. “What do you mean?” I said slowly. He looked up, nervous yet sincere. “I think I really like you, Rita.” Before I could respond or even react--I didn’t know how to if I wanted to--he grabbed my hand and took a step closer to me. What do I do? I didn’t want to be mean to Danny, but I didn’t like him like that. We were cousins for goodness sake. I saw him look at my lips; I started to panic. What do I say? Do I say anything? Should I just try to leave? He was coming closer. “Daddy!” I yelled frantically. Danny jumped back in surprise. Daddy popped into the doorframe a few seconds later looking worried. “What’s wrong, sweetie?” He stepped into the room and put a hand on my arm, scanning my face. “I don’t feel too good,” I glanced at Danny briefly who was now red-faced and ashamed, staring at the carpet. “I think I have a bit of a headache.” “Does your stomach hurt, too?” He asked, guiding me out of the room and away from Danny. “No.” “Do you need any medicine?” “No, I think I just need to lie down or something.” “Okay, sweetie. It might just be from the heat from the drive.” I nodded, sitting in one of the chairs at the kitchen table where everyone else was around. Looking over at Russ and Laney, it looked like someone forced them to wash their hands. Laney was showing Russ some of her toys in the family room connected to the kitchen, continuously taking out toys from the bin and setting them on the ground. When Danny and I were little and over each other’s houses, we used to play farmer. Daddy would be in the field pulling weeds or bad crops, and Danny and I would be in front of the porch, digging small holes, putting pieces of grass or dandelions in them, and then patting the dirt in. It was sweet, innocent fun. And when we were at his house, we would play cops. We’d take turns chasing each other with finger guns, rolling around on the couch like they would over car hoods in movies. Lee said something about the time and everyone started moving, shaking me out of my thoughts. I stood and followed Mama into the cellar, assuming the storm was going to start soon. The cellar was how I remembered it. It was a pretty large room. There was a pantry in the corner, filled with the necessary amount of food; a bathroom was on that side of the room as well. There were two pull out couches, a futon or two against the walls. Over the years, piles of toys have appeared and disappeared in the corner. Russ and Laney rushed the toys, hopping on whatever they could find giddily. Todd yawned in Mama’s arms, and Mama asked if he was sleepy. I sat, curled up, against the wall. Mama and Daddy were sitting next to each other, me near them. Russ was sitting with Laney on the floor at one end of the room, deciding on coloring as tonight’s activity. I set my chin on my arms, trying to think of when it all went wrong. The last time we visited and I saw Danny he seemed fine, he seemed normal. It was only a couple months ago, I think, maybe three months? The last storm was two months ago and it was a small one so we didn’t visit then. How could he have developed feelings like this in such a short time? We hadn’t even seen each other. It didn’t make any sense. He didn’t make any sense. Having a crush on me… I buried the bottom half of my face behind my arms. When I was in schooling, I didn’t have any crushes. The girls were always talking about boys, and the boys were always talking about girls. It was kind of gross, if you ask me. I never really wanted a part of it so my friends didn’t talk much about it with me. I always felt kind of...isolated, but I tried not to get sad about it. I didn’t like boys, or girls, or anybody. But that was okay with me. I just had fun selling Daddy’s crops in town. That was good enough for me. The rain started soon after we came down here. I heard it faintly since we were underground. I looked over to the sound of dry heaving and saw Aunt Gracie leaning over a bucket, Lee holding her hand and rubbing her back. She usually got sick during storms. It was worse depending on how bad the storm was. It was kind of how when people had broken bones they could feel when it was going to rain? Except Aunt Gracie got sick. I heard it was because she got super sick when she was younger and now it affects her like this. I saw movement in front of me; Danny came by to sit next to me. I glanced to the side at Mama and Daddy. They were sitting close, talking quietly to Todd so he could fall asleep. I peered back at Danny cautiously. “Shouldn’t you be taking care of your mama?” I asked defensively. Danny smiled weakly. “My daddy takes care of her good when she’s sick. I don’t have to.” He paused. “I wanted to...can I talk to you?” He waited for me to answer, but I didn't. “I’m...I’m sorry. I know it’s wrong,” he looked at the ground. “I shouldn’t have, um, tried to come at you like that.” I didn’t say anything. “I’m really sorry, Rita.” I didn’t want to say anything. Without looking at him head-on, I could tell he felt sad. He didn’t move, he just sat against the wall near to where I was, silent. A couple hours passed, uneventful. I had gotten up to get a book about bears from the bookshelf. I was on page seventy-eight. Danny was chatting quietly with Russ and Laney. Laney jumped up happily, her dress bouncing with her; I think she stood just to show off her dress. It was light pink. Russ rubbed his eye with his fist; he was probably tired. I stared at the page of my book, not really reading it, but thinking about the bears in the book. This book was made after they all died off; the publication date was twenty years ago. The first chapter talked about how the global climate made it nearly impossible for the bears to continue living. Now they were all extinct. I frowned. The pictures of them looked so cute, it was unfortunate they weren’t around anymore. Suddenly, we heard the sound of glass shattering somewhere from above. We all looked up at the ceiling in vain. “Shit,” Lee said helplessly. “Probably one of the windows we didn’t get to reinforce yet.” Lee looked grim. The storm breaking one of his windows early on meant he was going to have a lot of water damage. The house will probably flood by morning. But there wasn’t much any of us could do. I looked towards Mama and Daddy. They looked equally as helpless. Our windows weren't really reinforced either. We were going to get home in a couple days and figure out how to deal with all the damage. A large crack in the sky boomed all around us. The lights flickered. Russ and Laney stopped what they were doing out of fear. Russ was afraid of the dark, and I think Laney didn’t really like noise storms. She stood up and held onto Danny’s sleeve. When the lights flickered again, Russ ran to Daddy; Daddy hugged him with one arm while he still had an arm around Mama. “What if the lights go out?” I heard Russ say to Daddy in a small voice. “We’ve got a generator, don’t you worry,” Lee chimed in. Russ looked to Daddy for clarification. He smiled. “That means that if the lights go out, the generator for the cellar will keep the lights down here on, even if the ones upstairs are still out.” I sat with my book, glancing at Danny for a moment, who I noticed was staring at me. He looked away. I looked back at my book. The grizzly bear. Similar to what we’re doing now, hibernate during the winter. They stock up food, huddle with their family, and wait for the storm to pass.

#short story #story: grizzly bears #speculative fiction #general fiction #contemporary fiction #realistic fiction #fiction #natural disasters #my writing #semiwriting

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paintedrecs · 7 years ago

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302, I Love You

[Read on AO3]

It was a beautiful summer morning—mid-70s with a light breeze, ideal weather for soaking up the sun without fear of overheating. If anyone asked, that was why Stiles was sitting on his balcony with a book he hadn’t touched in the last half hour and a mug of coffee he’d been absently sipping from, his gaze fixed on the parking lot several stories below.

Coincidentally, one of his neighbors—Hot Dude From 302, not that it was relevant—had chosen the same morning to wash his stupidly flashy Camaro. Stiles wasn’t watching him. He was sitting on his balcony, which happened to face the back parking lot, and Hot Dude happened to be in his general line of sight. And anyway, if he had been watching him, it was only to document the details of his flagrant lease-breaking activities, in case Stiles decided to file a complaint with their landlord.

Washing vehicles in their parking lot was explicitly against the rules, along with smoking, loud parties after 11 PM, and leaving trash bags in the hallway for people to potentially trip over, rather than dragging them all the way to the dumpsters—which were also located in their parking area.

If pressed, Stiles might admit that he’d broken the latter two rules once or twice. And that there might be an overstuffed trash bag sitting in the hallway at this very moment—deposited there because the smell had started to bug him, but not enough to motivate him to put on shoes and non-pj pants and make the trek downstairs. But that was more like rule-bending. It wasn’t an egregious violation like the unnecessarily thorough car washing that took place every Saturday, like clockwork.

Obviously this guy wasn’t originally from California, or he’d know how important water conservation was, and how much his utterly unacceptable behavior made everyone else in the building grind their teeth. Beacon Hills was in the middle of a fucking drought. And there 302 was, spraying water not only over the car’s sleek black surface, but over himself, too, making his loose shorts cling to his thighs, his already too-tight white tank top plastering against his chest and abs.

What was the point of even wearing a shirt to begin with if he was just going to get it soaked through every time, leaving the fabric offensively sheer?

“So you want him to take his shirt off for you,” Stiles's supposed best friend Scott said, kicking his feet up on the railing and crunching through a handful of pretzels.

“Shut up!” Stiles hissed. He instinctively tried to duck down in his lounge chair—as if that would accomplish anything—but 302 didn’t seem to have heard the exchange. He was too busy stretching across the hood, his back to them, the fabric of his wet shorts leaving little to Stiles’s admittedly very active imagination.

“You’re drooling,” Scott said. “This is kinda gross. I thought we were gonna be watching cartoons, not this guy’s ass.”

Stiles spluttered indignantly, then, when Scott motioned at his face, wiped away the possibly-drool from his chin. That happened sometimes when he was tired, okay? He hadn’t had enough of his coffee yet this morning. “I’m judging him,” he insisted. He firmly shut his mouth and twisted it into his most convincingly judgmental face.

“Judging whether you can get into his pants,” Scott said.

“Judging him for...not knowing how to use his hose,” Stiles countered, scrambling for a reasonable comeback.

Scott was, thankfully, silent for a bit. He popped more pretzels into his mouth and chewed while staring at Stiles meaningfully. Eventually, he concluded, “So you wanna teach him how to use his hose.”

302 suddenly swore loudly from down below, and Stiles jerked in his chair, nearly knocking his coffee—and himself—over. Once he’d made sure his mug and limbs were safe, he leaned forward to see what had happened.

Point proved, really. 302 had somehow sprayed himself right in the face with the hose, which required a special sort of uncoordinated talent that even Stiles didn’t possess. Scott was right; the guy clearly did need some hose-handling lessons. He was dripping wet, his dark hair flattened, leaving it almost as shiny and black as his car. Even from this distance, Stiles could see the water streaming off the sharp cut off his cheekbones.

Despite all that, the idiot hadn’t shut the hose off —he was just standing there, frozen in place, holding it as water arced into the air, the spray catching the sunlight in a miniature, shimmering rainbow.

He looked absolutely pitiful. Stiles almost felt bad for him. At the same time, though: “You remember that fountain by the library?”

Scott nodded. Of course he did. It’d been major drama when they were starting middle school; the local PTA had campaigned to have it torn out, claiming it was “inappropriate” for a public building to house a lifesize reproduction of The Birth of Venus. The sculptor’s argument—that it was a classic work of art that could be found in multiple books within the library itself—eventually toppled under the ire of parents with too much time on their hands.

Stiles had mourned its loss, taking art classes throughout high school with the vague idea of using his inevitable fame to battle similarly misguided attempts at censorship. As it turned out, he had no artistic skill, and he’d gradually found better channels for his righteous indignation. He was wondering now, though, if his bisexual awakening would’ve happened sooner if Venus had been replaced by something like...Eros. Or by a recreation of the tableau currently spread out below him. He would’ve spent a lot of time studying by that fountain during his teenage years.

“I should take the trash out,” he decided abruptly.

Scott moved his legs so Stiles could clamber over him and back into his studio’s compact living room. “So I should just go home, then?” he called after Stiles.

Stiles was too busy pulling on presentable pants, twisting in front of the mirror, then switching to his tighter jeans, to reply. He was cramming his feet into his shoes when Scott came inside.

“You might as well take this,” Scott said, shaking the now-empty bag of pretzels in front of Stiles’s face. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“You don’t have to leave,” Stiles grunted, tying off his shoelaces and grabbing the crinkly bag as he stood.

“I really think I do,” Scott said. “Good luck. Please don’t text me any details.”

“I’m not going to hit on him,” Stiles grumbled after Scott rudely slammed the door on his way out. He wasn’t. Mostly because his knowledge of 302 boiled down to a few key facts:

- Overcompensating (that car, c’mon) - Environmentally unfriendly - Antisocial (Stiles had never seen him interacting with anyone, and the majority of their neighbors were annoyingly friendly; most of them had shown up, uninvited, to his last after-11 PM party. Which Stiles had definitely not thrown hoping that 302 would be among the attendees. He’d only posted the sign by the mailboxes as a courtesy notice, not an invitation. Technically.)

Perhaps most importantly, according to those same mailboxes, 302 was living with someone named “Laura Hale.” It was the only name listed, and although Stiles had snooped on the various packages that were too big to fit inside, he hadn’t managed to uncover any additional details. He had lurked in the entryway for long enough to see a beautiful dark-haired woman collect one of those boxes, which had smashed the final hope he’d deny he’d been harboring.

Expecting a guy like that to not have an equally hot girlfriend to ferry around in his douchey car? Dream on, Stiles.

He attempted to crumple the pretzel remnants—something he’d been planning to eat himself, thanks a lot Scott—into the trash bag, which only resulted in squeezing out a mess of banana peels and coffee-stained paper towels. Okay, maybe that rule existed for a reason, too. He sighed, wiped his hands off on his jeans, and heaved the bag up, beginning the trudge down to the garbage bins.

Once outside the building, Stiles stepped gingerly over the sudsy water snaking along the pavement, thumped the dumpster lid loudly enough to announce his presence, then oh-so-casually headed over to check on his Jeep, which was parked two spaces away from 302’s current location. Their building had unassigned spots—too few for the number of residents, leaving the rest to park out on the street. That created a headache sometimes, but it’d allowed Stiles—after some careful planning and light bribery—to set up this accidental meeting.

302 glanced at Stiles when he passed by, then fumbled his hose, spraying himself again.

“Wow,” Stiles said, attempting to hop out of the way, grimacing when that movement sent him splashing right into a puddle. “You have a serious problem, dude.”

“Sorry,” 302 said, in a soft voice that Stiles could barely hear over the water’s relentlessly wasteful flow. Now that Stiles was closer to his elusive neighbor, he was able to see the red shading those marble-carved cheekbones; he’d probably been out in the sun for too long, considering himself too manly to reapply sunscreen.

The thought brought back a sudden flash of memory: an afternoon in late summer; a sprinkler hissing in circles as Stiles jumped through the cool, stinging spray; a dark-haired boy laughing, the silver glint of his braces catching the sun as Stiles tried to flick water in his direction, convincing him to join the fun. Stiles’s mom had come outside then, tsking at him in feigned disapproval, then calling them both over for a fresh coating of smelly, sticky sunscreen that Stiles would immediately do his best to wash off.

Scott, Stiles thought, then: No. He hadn’t moved to Beacon Hills yet. That was when Stiles was younger, when his best friend was a quiet boy who’d always said—despite Stiles’s constant attempts to get him into trouble—that the Stilinski household was a lot more peaceful than his. He’d liked Stiles’s mom’s cookies, his dad’s stories about work, and—Stiles liked to think, anyway—Stiles’s magnetic personality.

“Derek,” he said aloud, and 302 jumped.

“What?”

“Sorry, I was just—” Stiles shook his head. Why was he thinking of Derek now? The guy had moved away ages ago. They’d exchanged letters for a few months, then Scott had moved to town, Stiles had started spending a lot more time noticing girls, and the letters had stopped.

302 was still staring at him, his multicolored—mostly green?—eyes wide. Looking at him for too long was making Stiles feel weird, like there was something pressing at the back of his mind that he couldn’t quite grasp.

“You should be wearing sunglasses,” Stiles said stupidly. The bright light reflecting off the pavement was making him squint, and he’d been out there for less than five minutes.

“You’re not,” 302 said.

“My eyes are darker; more melanin means better protection,” Stiles automatically countered—it was an argument he’d often used as a know-it-all kid who didn’t want to stop playing outside—then tried to restrain his wince. He was being obvious. You didn’t start out a totally innocent conversation with a hot stranger by talking about his eye color, for fuck’s sake.

But 302 smiled. He had front teeth that were a little too big for his mouth—something that he might’ve been teased about when he was younger, because he immediately ducked his head and rolled his lips together, pressing them into a line that didn’t hide the equally endearing dimples in his cheeks.

Damn, Stiles thought. The guy was supposed to be kind of a dick. Not...this. Maybe he avoided hanging out with over-friendly neighbors because he was shy? Stiles had to mentally readjust his entire battle plan, which had mostly involved snarky commentary and a few clever innuendoes designed to test whether he really was taken.

“I was gonna ask you to wash my car,” Stiles said, plunging after his first thought, but unable to resist a slight dig. “While you’re wasting all that water.”

“Oh,” 302 said. His smile dimmed; even the curve of the hose seemed dejected suddenly. He released his tight grip on the spray attachment, the noise in the parking lot fading to the hum of bees in the hedge next door and the metallic creak of swings from the playground down the street. “I guess I could. It’s the Jeep, right?”

“Um,” Stiles said. “Yes. How did you know that?”

302 slid his hand down the hose, like he was planning to start rolling it back up, even though there were still suds on the Camaro’s roof. “It looks like your mom’s,” he said. “I remember you always used to say you wanted a car just like it, once you found out ordinary citizens couldn’t get Batmobiles.”

“How the—” Stiles stared at him. This was new. He hadn’t had a stalker before; at least, not that he’d known.

302 met his gaze for a few seconds, then looked away, his mouth twisting—in disappointment, weirdly, if Stiles was reading that expression correctly. “You don’t remember me, do you.”

“Should I?” Stiles asked. Maybe he’d hooked up with the guy and forgotten him, but that seemed incredibly unlikely. He’d remember a jawline like that. And why the hell would they have spent the night talking about Stiles’s childhood? He didn’t get that personal in relationships until...well, he’d always figured he’d start digging into the really gritty stuff at about the year marker, and no one had ever lasted that long.

“I guess not,” 302 said. “It’s been a long time. Laura said you wouldn’t and that I should get over myself and be the first one to say something. I was trying to work up the nerve, but then, just now, when you...”

He trailed off, so Stiles repeated it. “When I what?”

“When you said my name,” 302 said. “I...didn’t imagine that, did I?”

Stiles looked at him again, like he was seeing him for the first time. That’s what he’d thought this encounter was, but...he traced his gaze over the guy’s inky black hair, drying in the sunlight and beginning to wave slightly at the tips; the delicate curves of his ears, which somehow seemed a little smaller than they should be; the unusual color of his eyes.

“Derek,” Stiles said slowly, pulling that memory back to the forefront, the hazy image of his friend overlaying 302’s features. He had to make significant adjustments for puberty and an apparent explosion of late-blooming attractiveness, but: “Hale. Oh my god. Laura’s your sister. The scary older one you never wanted us to hang out with. How did I not make that connection?”

“It’s a common name,” Derek said. “Not like Stilinski. It was a lot easier for me to connect the dots.”

“Goddamn,” Stiles said. “Good thing my dad talked me out of joining the force. I would’ve been a shitty detective.”

“I doubt that,” Derek said, as generous as he’d been when they were kids. He had so many of the same mannerisms, now that Stiles was paying attention. “I look a little different than I used to.”

Stiles snorted before he could consider whether that was rude. That brought up a sudden, unsettling thought. “Wait, does that mean I don’t?”

As a kid, Stiles had been 80% eyes and mouth, and always a head shorter than the other boys his age. He’d hit his growth spurt late in high school, then shot up to six feet during college, but if his face was still that recognizable...

Derek was shaking his head. “I told you, I saw your name. A few weeks after we moved in.” He hesitated, then added, “But I think I would’ve recognized you anyway. You’ve changed, but there’s something...”

“Yeah,” Stiles said. He felt it, too. He’d first seen Derek about a month ago—or so he’d thought at the time—and had nearly been bowled over by the degree of instantaneous attraction. It wasn’t just the physical part, although that was undeniable. It was the sense that something about Derek felt right. Familiar, almost. He’d thought stupid things, like maybe soulmates weren’t as outlandish as he’d always assumed. Turned out all it’d meant was that some part of his brain was still connected to those old memories of Derek.

He tried not to let the disappointment wash over him. This was cool, too. It’d be fun to reconnect, to revisit the old times, like: he flushed suddenly, another long-forgotten image drifting out of the past. He touched his lips without thinking, remembering the dry press of Derek’s mouth against his, the brilliant green of his eyes as he pulled back, mouth still parted, looking terrified that Stiles would laugh at him.

“I just...wanted to try that. Before...” Derek had said. Then, before Stiles had any time to react or process it, Derek had revealed that his family was leaving town. He was gone the next week.

The red along Derek’s cheekbones was darkening. So he remembered it, too. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to make you think...” He started to turn away, coiling the hose in abrupt, jerky movements, like he was trying to figure out the fastest way to clear out of there. Just like he’d done after the kiss, dashing off, claiming he had to start packing.

“That last letter you wrote me,” Stiles said. Derek stopped, his back to him, shoulders tensed. “I didn’t reply. I’m sorry. I was a stupid kid; I didn’t know what to say.”

“I never knew if you’d stopped talking to me intentionally,” Derek said. “I tried a couple times, and then I figured if you wanted to get in touch again, you would.”

And Stiles never had. At first, it really had been that he was busy; middle school had seemed like the most exciting and terrifying thing in the entire world, and trying to navigate its treacherous waters while keeping Derek updated had proved too difficult to maintain. Then that third unanswered letter—the last one Derek had written—had arrived. Stiles didn't remember much of it. But he could still see its closing line, a shaky scrawl that looked like it'd been added at the last minute.

I’m sorry I made things weird.

The kiss had made Stiles feel weird, in a way he hadn’t been able to articulate. It’d taken a few more years before he’d really understood why, and by then, Derek was a distant memory. By the looks of it, the reverse hadn’t been true.

“I used to wonder why you did it,” Stiles said.

Derek finished putting the hose back, twisted the water off and removed the nozzle, then finally turned back around. “Why I kissed you? Or why I wrote you that stupid letter?”

Stiles touched his mouth again, watching as Derek’s gaze followed the movement. Things were a lot different now than they were back then. Odd lingering connection or not, they’d both grown into entirely different people. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t really need an answer to either.”

“So what’s your real question?”

“I liked you back then,” Stiles said. “A lot. I hated that you left me, right when everything started getting really big and confusing. I know you couldn’t help it, but every time I wrote you, it reminded me that you weren’t around anymore.”

Derek’s lips flattened a bit. He nodded, slowly. “So it was easier to let it go.”

“I don’t think it’d ever be easy to let you go,” Stiles said.

Derek’s mouth parted, his eyes searching Stiles’s.

“My question is,” Stiles said, taking a couple steps forward, then grimacing when that sent his sneaker splashing through one of Derek’s puddles.

“Sorry,” Derek said, but Stiles was already squelching the rest of the way over to him.

“So much for the seductive walk,” he said, close enough now for this to all go horribly wrong.

Derek hesitantly reached out, setting his hands on Stiles’s hips, then tightening his grip when Stiles reacted by leaning closer. “I remember the fountain, too.”

“The—shit, you heard that?”

“You’re pretty loud,” Derek said. “And hard to ignore.”

From most people, that might’ve seemed like an insult. The way Derek was looking at him, though, it felt like one of the nicer compliments Stiles had ever received.

“You weren’t here, though,” Stiles objected. “I remember, because that was the longest letter I wrote you. I think I transcribed half the town hall debate—the part I got to hear before my dad found me and kicked me out.”

“I remember,” Derek repeated, then cleared his throat. “I still have the drawing you sent.”

Stiles paused, his hands halfway up Derek’s chest—thick hair visible through the sheer fabric, as he’d guessed from his earlier vantage point—to his bare shoulders, which he’d been aching to touch for the last hour. The last month, if he was being honest. “Oh, the one of the fountain? God, I can’t believe you kept that. It’s gotta be barely recognizable.”

“I liked it,” Derek said. “It made me feel like I was there with you.”

It was strange to look into eyes this familiar, belonging to someone Stiles hardly knew anymore. He slipped a finger under the strap of Derek’s still-damp tank top, testing to see if it was as absurdly tight as he’d thought. There really was no point to him wearing this flimsy excuse for a shirt.

“You never asked your question,” Derek said.

“Right,” Stiles said. He had a lot of them, too numerous to delve into now. When Derek decided to move back, had he known Stiles was still around? Why had he returned? Was it for Laura, or was it his decision? And why had he ended up with a wet dream of a car, when he’d always been the practical one in their friendship?

For now, though, only one was pressing enough to ask. “Do you think it’s too late?”

“For what?” Derek asked.

“To try again.”

The first touch of Derek’s lips was hesitant, like it’d been all those years before. It was his answer—but a question, too, begun more than a decade ago.

This time, Stiles knew exactly how to respond.

“Okay,” he said after a while, setting a hand back on Derek’s chest but letting him chase his mouth for a few more lip-tingling moments. “You’ve gotten a lot better at that.”

“I should hope so,” Derek said, with a throaty chuckle that made Stiles feel warm all over.

“We should move out of the parking lot,” Stiles said reluctantly. “I’m not the only one with a balcony. And you should probably do something with your ridiculous car before anyone needs to back out of their spaces.”

“Not my car,” Derek said. He tangled his fingers with Stiles’s, dropping a very distracting kiss onto the tip of his nose.

“Not your—yes it is. You wash it every damn weekend.”

“It’s Laura’s,” Derek said. “I have a Camry. You probably haven’t seen it; Laura makes me park it out on the street so hers doesn’t get scratched.”

Stiles stared at him, processing that information. “Let me guess; she also makes you wash it for her?”

“It’s a trade-off,” Derek said. “She hates handling all the grocery shopping and apartment cleaning when I’m on shift, but she said she’d stop complaining if I spent an hour out here every Saturday. She claimed she was the one doing me a favor, but I haven’t been so sure about that.”

“She might’ve been right,” Stiles said, wondering if everyone in the building—everyone but Derek—had been watching this whole thing unfold. “Wait, what kind of shifts do you work? Are you at the hospital?”

Derek cleared his throat again, looking oddly embarrassed. “No, I uh. I’m at the station. I work with your dad now. He makes a pretty great Sheriff.”

“Deputy Derek Hale,” Stiles said. That part really shouldn’t have come as a surprise; Derek had always been the one hanging off stories from the station. While Stiles snooped around in his dad’s files, dreaming up exciting new criminal-catching methods, Derek had stayed by the then-deputy’s side, asking boring questions about procedure and policy. “For fuck’s sake. I can’t believe my dad didn’t tell me you were back.”

Derek’s cheekbones took on that pink tint again. “He said he, uh. Doesn’t like getting involved in your romantic life anymore. But that if we ever did figure things out, he wanted us to both come over for dinner.”

“Well,” Stiles said. “Then I guess we should get back to figuring things out.”

It took 207’s extended, irritable honking to finally move them out of the parking lot. Stiles was the one who ended up with a sunburn, as it turned out. But he didn’t mind that much, not when it came with Derek in his apartment, smoothing aloe vera onto the back of his neck, and then playfully kissing his nose again before smearing the gel along his lips’ path.

The next Saturday morning, the parking lot was quiet and still. Stiles was out on his balcony, a mug of coffee in one hand, the other resting lightly on Derek’s knee.

“Derek, look,” he hissed, nodding at the silver SUV that 401 was attempting to very quietly unlock. Rookie move; should’ve parked on the street if she didn’t want to be seen. “I bet you anything she’s sneaking off to the casino again before her husband wakes up.”

Derek didn't lift his eyes from the thick book he was reading—some boring examination of the history of European conflicts, last Stiles had checked. He hummed in the back of his throat, though, then rested his hand on top of Stiles’s to show he was listening.

Once 401 was safely on her way, revving the engine triumphantly as soon as she'd made it halfway down the block, Stiles drained the rest of his coffee. “Alright, I'm gonna take a shower.”

“Okay,” Derek said. He moved his hand and flipped a page of his book, still frowning in concentration at the dense, tiny text.

“You should join me,” Stiles said. “In fact, I think we should make that a habit for a while. It's about time you started making some serious strides in water conservation.”

“Honestly, Stiles,” Derek sighed.

But he set the book down.

#sterek #eternalsterek #sterekweek2017 #sterekmeetcute #derek hale #stiles stilinski #my fics

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shinydarkai2000 · 4 years ago

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Alright, here's what scared me as a kid. Keep in mind, this may be kind of stupid.

Have you ever been scared by something that you trusted? A familiar piece of media that you know front to back, suddenly shocks you in a way that you just can't forget. Even bringing about sudden fear upon even remembering the accompanying music, as though you legit had PTSD?

On a related note, do you guys remember Elmo's World?

I'm not even joking. As a kid on the Autism Spectrum, I naturally gravitated towards the predictable format that the show offered. I always knew what to expect. It was familiar and safe. Well, for the most part.

I don't even remember when I first saw the episode about dogs. I do know that it had to have been on the cassette, aptly titled "Babies, Dogs, and More," with the "more" meaning "farms." Admittedly, all three episodes on that VHS gave off somewhat unsettling vibes, but it was the second one on there, the one about dogs, that truly traumatized me.

Okay, so, I'm just gonna give you a synopsis of the events within the episode in an attempt to explain to anyone reading why it unsettled me, for one reason or another. Here we go:

Firstly, the episode starts with the standard greeting: Elmo welcomes the viewer to his titular, hand-drawn world. Only, for some reason, the camera is at a surprisingly low angle, when the camera is normally positioned at eye level. For some reason, Elmo is legitimately looking down at you. Then, after greetings are "exchanged," Elmo asks you to read his mind and guess what he's thinking about. This is usually accompanied by a hint or two, the first of which is the three main furniture items, those being the drawer, the shade, and the door respectively, barking. And the door in particular has the lowest, most intimidating bark out of all of them. Elmo opens the door and is subsequently trampled by a small stampede of dogs, multiple times. In fact, after the montage that follows, he enters the screen BEING PUSHED AND TRAMPLED YET AGAIN!!! Hell, when he's saying Dorothy's question, this time being "How do you walk a dog?", he looks in the direction that the dog hoard went, and decides to WHISPER the word dog! He is LEGITIMATELY CONCERNED that he might get trampled again! Elmo decides to ask Mr. Noodle, as usual. This time around, it's his brother, played by Michael Jeter (may he rest in peace). And the idea is that he is holding a leash that is suspended in midair, and it's supposed to represent a "pretend dog." Except this pretend dog is moving at breakneck speeds, running under Mr. Noodle's legs multiple times, leaping several feet into the air, and even causing the poor man to FLIP IN THE AIR and land on his side! HARD! After getting up, but not without failing to do so a couple times, Mr. Noodle is then DRAGGED AWAY by this PRETEND DOG! What the fuck! Moving on, the kids and the baby segments are as usual. Then we get to the counting segment, or what you could also refer to as "Elmo's Question for You." It's clear that for this question, Elmo is in front of a Blue Screen, because he does not look natural in his own world. Anyway, the question involves ice-skating dogs, which also look very unnatural in their movement and speed, coupled by the weird rendition of the Blue Danube Waltz by Richard Strauss. Enter the surprisingly dirty looking dog, which asks the next question: What can have a pet dog and what can't? Elmo and the dog go to the drawer, who uncharacteristically, obeys Elmo's wishes to receive an answer without causing implied physical harm, which is just super suspicious, because if there's one thing about Elmo's World that is almost 100% consistent, it's that the drawer is an asshole! And it doesn't help that the music in this segment is also weirdly unsettling for some reason. Then, we briefly check up on Mr. Noodle again, and see that he's gotten the hang of walking the pretend dog by now, but still somewhat struggling. And once again, the music is somewhat unsettling. Now, my memory is a bit foggy here, but I believe that it's just a standard story about how this one kid got a new puppy and detailing the responsibilities that come with it. Pretty standard stuff. Afterwards, it shows Elmo being absolutely overwhelmed by the dog hoard's licking. Yeah, remember those guys? They're back. Anyway, they run off, and the TV runs in like some kind of smaller dog breed so that we can have the usual cartoon segment. Also, the hoard comes back, because they want to watch as well, for some reason. Cartoon segment time: Dogs and their Feelings. It's portrayed like a legit therapy session for this one dog named Sigmund. The therapist asks Sigmund to portray his emotions for various hypothetical scenarios, with Sigmund refusing to cooperate, which is actually rather comedic in hindsight. Of course, the therapist ends up having to act them out herself, appearing very viscous for anger, might I add. Eventually Sigmund runs off, and soon comes back in a jersey because he "wants to play Basketball." He then hands the therapist a bone, and she proceeds to growl and shake it around in her mouth. And that's where it ends! One more look at Mr. Noodle, with the same music as last time, and Elmo wants to learn more. The hoard comes back, and they mention some brief facts about themselves before running off at the "sound" of a whistle. But as they're running off, Elmo still tries to get in one last question: Do dogs have jobs? And this is where the main source of my childhood trauma begins... Immediately after Elmo asks the question, the door barks again. And I'm not even joking, that bark does not even sound like a normal dog. It sounds like a hell hound or something! Elmo opens the door, and the real "guests" are revealed: William Wegman's dogs. For those of you who don't know what these are, they're these PEOPLE with ACTUAL DOG HEADS!!! The first one we see is a cop, and his accompanying music still leaves a mark on my very soul! It's such a commanding, forceful track, and even worse, it's the kind of thing that sticks around in your head afterwards! He tells Elmo that dogs do have jobs, and that some dogs work with the police. Cut to Elmo's reaction, and when we cut back, there's a different dog person there. This one is dressed up like a clown and tells Elmo that there are some dogs that work in the circus, with this really fast paced rendition of the Benny Hill theme behind him. Also, I didn't mention this earlier, but these two dog people are just against some sort of white void of a background. Then Dorothy imagines Elmo as a dog. And it is the most unnatural looking thing I have ever seen! Circus dog Elmo fails to jump through a hoop, and then laughs like his usual self. Next, the Elmo dog is trying to herd sheep, who are just droning on with their baas. Elmo dog joins them with sad sounding howls, and in pity, the sheep stand to attention like army soldiers! The voice of one of the dog people makes a really shitty pun about how the sheep "herd" Elmo, which is so bad that even the sheep don't get it, and then Elmo dog has them march off screen, but not before turning to the camera and laughing again for some reason. Lastly, Elmo dog is pulling a sled in an Arctic looking environment, with another Elmo riding the sled and telling him to mush? It's just super confusing... End of imagination segment. Both dog people are together now, and the leave with the excuse that they "have to bake a cake." What the fuck kind of excuse is that? Where did that even come from?! Elmo then shows a home video of Telly pretending to be a dog, but Telly is taking it really far, even licking the camera!!! That is not just pretend, if you ask me! Then, of course, Elmo plays "the Dog Song" on the piano to the tune of the chorus of Jingle Bells, and sings with the accompaniment of the dog hoard, and we say our goodbyes.

Holy fuck. This may not seem like anything scary, but as an autistic toddler, this shit was the closest thing I had to a horror movie. If you want to see what the fuck I'm talking about for yourself, then look it up on YouTube. You could also just look it up on the Sesame Street website, I think, but they changed the police dog's music there for some reason. So maybe look for the episode on YouTube, and if you can, find a version that isn't posted by the official Sesame Street channel, just to be sure you get the full experience.

Do I regret posting this long ass comment here? Absolutely not! I'm old enough not to give a shit about being mocked for this anymore.

#shenanigans #elmo #elmo's world #trauma #childhood #childhood trauma #halloween

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recentanimenews · 4 years ago

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Anime in America Podcast: Full Episode 7 Transcript

What do you remember from your first time seeing anime on TV? Find out how all this came to be and more as Crunchyroll's Anime in America podcast takes some time to speak with author and scholar Roland Kelts and Toonami's own Jason DeMarco in the latest episode! Read on for the full episode 7 transcript below.

The Anime in America series is available on crunchyroll.com, animeinamerica.com, and wherever you listen to podcasts.

EPISODE 7: RAISED BY TV

Guests: Jason DeMarco, Roland Kelts

Disclaimer: The following program contains language not suitable for all ages. Discretion advised.

[Lofi music]

In February 1963, a guy named Fred Ladd got a call from NBC’s Jim Dodd. Somebody from NBC liked Fred’s work on a series created by taking 30- to 50-minute European cartoons that were cut into 5-minute segments and dubbed for release under the title “Cartoon Classics” and recommended Fred to Jim.

The mystery NBC agent had seen a cartoon on TV during a trip to Japan that he thought might play well on American television. After screening an episode, so did Fred. Jim Dodd asked if he’d be interested in dubbing and localizing the cartoon. That cartoon, or anime as we call them today, was an Osamu Tezuka led Mushi Production titled Tetsuan Atom.

NBC recognized the need for new cartoons, as childrens’ entertainment on TV just wasn’t being served. At the time, many networks were airing libraries of animated films that had finished their theatrical runs. TV cartoons were expensive to make, both in raw production costs and because shows required 52 episodes for syndication so networks could continue to air reruns for long periods to recoup the licensing costs without the program becoming stale.

They saw Japanese cartoons as the perfect solution to this problem, predicting a low price tag, even with the added cost of dubbing. If Tetsuan Atom was a hit, they could continue picking up Japanese cartoons at cost to fill out their programming schedules.

There was just one problem though. The cartoons were um… they were Japanese.

[Lofi music]

NBC had made an executive decision to not hide the fact that the cartoons were of Japanese origin. Meaning that if asked they weren’t going to deny it, but they weren’t going to advertise it either. Lingering post-war sentiments and xenophobia might ostracize exactly the audience they were aiming for. But fortunately Tezuka, influenced by Disney, was a practitioner of what’s known as “mukokuseki,” or “statelessness.” The appearance of his characters and the setting of his works were ambiguous, allowing any viewer to more easily identify with them or, today, allowing an anime avatar on Twitter to argue that anime characters are supposed to be white. [Whistle]

Anyway, the idea worked. Many of the earliest anime fans have similar stories about not even knowing that many of their favorite childhood cartoons were Japanese at all until much later in their lives. Just like in episode two when you didn’t realize that in the Power Rangers suits were just Japanese people fighting other Japanese people in puddy outfits, speaking japanese, then recorded over in english cut with american footage. Or you didn’t know as a kid that Muppet Babies was animated by the same studio that made Dragon Ball Z. Who would’ve thought?

Basically, to them, it was just another cartoon.

But anyway, things get a little rocky with Tetsuan Atom.

To that point NBC had been working with an agent representing Mushi Production named Kazuhiko Fujita, who shocked them by shooting down their initial offer. Just as they were reassessing what to do, one Kiyoshi Fujita (no relation) discovered the situation and got both Mushi Production and Fuji TV onboard with the deal. This might seem a little confusing, but it becomes important later on...

So, Fred dubbed the pilot episode to present to the NBC reps and by summer of ‘63 they were all convinced they had a hit. He would go on to dub the entire 52 episode series using spare studio space with three voice actors at a cost of 1,800 USD total per episode before Tetsuan Atom, now retitled Astro Boy, aired on WNEW-TV channel 5 in New York as a test run before launching on NBC’s own Channel 4 network nationwide to popular acclaim and, according to Fred, launching the anime industry as we know it today.

Overjoyed with the international success of Astroy Boy in the U.S., Tezuka returned to NBC looking to sell them on the upcoming adaptation of his manga Jungle Taitei Leo, submitting his entire plan for the series pre-production to the broadcasting company to make sure it would meet MCAA standards and now I guess we’ve gotta talk about American television in the 60s for a little bit.

[Lofi music]

The reason Tezuka submitted his plan ahead was because three whole episodes of Tetsuan Atom didn’t make the cut to the Astro Boy series because of their content and, if not for a visit by Fred to Mushi Production, that number might’ve been six. America wasn’t interested so much in the cartoon they were licensing as much as the raw animation and were more than willing to change just about everything in the show to suit American tastes and meet MCAA broadcasting requirements.

Too much violence? Cut it out. Character death? No! They’re just knocked out. Police man have a Japanese name? Let’s just change it to Officer McLaw, because… cops are Irish. At the time… and also now, uh American cartoons were expected to have each episode be a self-contained story. If some clever editing on the U.S. side couldn’t transform a “to be continued” into a “the end,” sometimes they’d have the Japanese studio redo the end. Consequently, that’s how Tetsuan Atom became Astro Boy… also maybe a little guilt over that whole atomic bomb thing.

When it came to Jungle Taitei Leo, NBC had some demands. Cut all the “law of the jungle” violence. Cut Leo growing up and having kids (NBC had sold Astro Boy as a new Pinnochio and were using a Bambi angle for Leo), and also no Leo dying at the end. Tezuka... agreed to change all of it, which basically made the new story nothing like his original work. And the series, slated for 76 episodes, was also cut down to 52 to meet NBC’s broadcasting requirements. Also they changed Leo’s name to Simba to avoid comparisons to the MGM lion, who I’m sure you had no idea was named Leo, and then to Kimba after it was brought up that Simba was just the word for Lion in Swahili and I’m sure you can’t imagine anyone being that uncreative...? Um...

Fred was on the forefront of many of these changes, editing and changing just about every aspect of NBC’s anime pickups in whatever way he thought would appeal to an American audience. But it should also be said that he was basically on the forefront of almost every TV anime Americans laid eyes on through the 90s. If he didn’t work on it personally, he was often instrumental in connecting creators with licensors to make it happen. His contribution to anime in America can not be understated. If it’s any consolation, Fred himself wasn’t a fan of Toei’s Japanese localization of his own original film, “Pinocchio in Outer Space”...

…

I repeat: Pinocchio in Outer Space.

[Clip from Pinoccio in Outer Space trailer plays]

Older woman: Where’s Pinocchio now, daughter?

Younger woman: Well, he began to grow selfish and inconsiderate.

Jiminy Cricket?: We have to do something! Think you can hypnotize that big lummox?

Other Person: I don’t even know where his eyes are!

Jiminy Cricket?: In his head, genius.

[Clip ends]

You remember the guy who’s NOT in outer space? Imagine him in outer space. And that’s the, that’s the guy who was in charge of anime.

Anyway, look it up…it’s not anime so it has no place in this podcast.

Then Mushi Productions began to run into trouble. Tezuka had already taken over the industry in the same way a Walmart moves into your small town and destroys all local businesses owned by your friends and family. He set his production costs to a dangerously low $3,000 per episode which, along with his nationwide reputation as a master of his craft, forced other studios to drop to his price point or drop out entirely. Many of them, unable to compete with his raw reputation, chose the latter. This set a precedent that the industry is still feeling the affects nearly 60 years later.

Mushi was already running at the lowest possible cost while increasing their production efforts to put their cartoons up to American standards. Typical American cartoons were comprised of around 6,500 cels while Japanese cartoons clocked in at only 4,000. Mushi was still trying to catch up when Fuji Network and NBC demanded Mushi’s next production be in color… I should probably mention that all anime before this had been in grayscale. The whole world, actually. Color hadn’t been invented yet, so this was a BIG ask.

Tezuka wasn’t sure how to tackle that task, so Mushi’s Kaoru Anami called Fred to ask for help, which led to him arranging a meeting with Disney’s Preston Blair in which he showed them the ropes. The result was Jungle Taitei Leo becoming the first color anime in 1966, Mushi’s production costs reaching a new peak, and maybe just maybe possibly Disney’s first contact with the inspiration for a certain controversial 1994 animated film about an unnamed jungle animal.

Mushi was now relying on American investment in their productions to break even and then… NBC started rejecting Tezuka's projects.

Tezuka’s take on the Chinese classic Journey to the West, “Goku no Daibouken,” was turned away because Goku was too mean. The mideval fantasy featuring a princess pretending to be a prince and getting into sword fights, “Ribon no Kishi,” was rejected due to what can best be described as “sex switching” panic, the modern word for that being transphobia. W3, a story about three aliens disguised as animals exploring the Earth to decide whether or not it was a universal threat was rejected for… no particular reason is clear but it’s about three animals deciding whether or not Earth should be destroyed, so... yeah. And finally Dororo, which just recently got a new adaptation, which I’m gonna guess got rejected because of violence and also “sex switching” panic over Dororo dressing as a boy. So there’s that.

Tezuka was afraid of antagonizing NBC by shopping his product elsewhere. After being forced to produce Goku no Daibouken at a loss, however, Mushi ended up selling Ribon no Kishi and W3 to Joe Oriolo, the co-creator of Casper the Friendly Ghost, of all things.

[Casper the Friendly Ghost theme]

Ultimately it wasn’t enough. Mushi would enter a decline and, with blood in the water, new studios started popping up, many helmed by Mushi’s own former staff, and began looking to the U.S. to sell their works. In 1968 Tezuka would form a new studio, Tezuka Productions, leaving Mushi to its troubles as it circled the drain and finally went bankrupt in 1968.

By the late 60s other studios were shopping out their works to America. Kazuhiko Fujita (if you remember him?) reemerged, having convinced Television Corporation of Japan (or TCJ) and Tatsukono to let him shop out international rights for the next several years. Among them, TCJ’s 8 Man, and Tetsujin 28-go, and Tatsunoko’s Space Ace, and Mach GoGoGo. NBC didn’t bite but ABC picked up 8 Man, pretty reasonably given the current market trends simply retitling it “8th Man.” When NBC and ABC passed on Tetsujin 28-go, Fred himself picked up the license, starting his own Delphi Associates Incorporated to localize it and releasing the series as Gigantor through Trans-Lux which, he claims, eclipsed even Astro Boy in its popularity. Mach GoGoGo ended up getting acquired directly by Trans-Lux and released as Speed Racer, becoming the most successful anime hit in the U.S. for years.

[Speed Racer Opening! (original version)]

At the time, Japanese studios were very focused on selling their works to America. TCJ was unwilling to sell the first 26 episodes of Tetsujin 28-go’s 52 episode series because they didn’t believe it was up to American standards and were even willing to go back and make changes to the ends of the latter 26 to keep with America’s self-contained story requests.

Tatsunoko had offered to go back and add color to the entire black and white Space Ace series for NBC, even coloring one episode as a sample, before they were turned down for another cartoon called “Cool McCool,” which may have been for the best since Fred had planned to change Ace’s name to “Ring-O”... because he threw rings…

Anime fell on hard times in the 70s as public outcry against violence and advertising on children’s programming heated up. ACT, or A-C-T, or “Action for Children’s Television” had started up in ‘68 and had their sights set directly on cartoons, driving several titles like Space Ghost and Fantastic Four off the air before the turn of the decade. By the early 70s they were petitioning the FCC and were breathing down Jimmy Carter’s neck the moment he got into office in ‘77. Their power would diminish in the 80s with Reaganomics pulling back the FCC’s ACT-directed demands on programming, but during the 70s even the edited down violence of Fred Ladd’s localizations were unsafe.

In the span of six years, American capital had vastly changed the landscape of Japanese animation, only for America to suddenly pull away and leave Japanese studios to pick up the pieces. While America was having another conservative moment, Japan’s animation industry headed in the opposite direction, moving into a new era of space-faring science fiction and increasing mature themes.

Even as Astro Boy was still airing on TV, some great minds started to think, “what if, instead of adapting Japanese cartoons, we just hired Japanese studios to cheaply animate OUR ideas instead?” These geniuses worked at Videocraft International and would quickly partner with Toei animation to produce the first ever cartoon produced in America and animated in Japan, the King Kong Show in 1969 [King Kong show intro]. They would go on to animate the 1981 Spider-Man, G.I. Joe, Inspector Gadget, Transformers, My Little Pony, The Jetsons, The Smurfs, and even… yes… even Muppet Babies.

Japanese studio Topcraft was also an early adopter, partnering with American Rankin/Bass in 1971 to produce a number of animated series like “The Jackson 5ive” that’s spelled with the number “5,” instead of an “F.” And several notable animated films from the 80s like Frosty’s Winter Wonderland, The Hobbit, and The Last Unicorn. All these projects were produced, written, and voice acted by Rankin/Bass in the U.S., while the animation was done at least in part but usually entirely by Topcraft.

The relationship lasted until 1985 when Topcraft went bankrupt and got bought by someone you’ll remember from the previous episode, Hayao Miyazaki, who changed its name to the infamously difficult to pronounce “Ghibli” [“gh” pronounced like “geo”], or “Gibli?” [“gh” pronounced like “get”], or… “Ghibli” [“gh” pronounced like “yee”]. Some of its other animators formed Pacific Animation Corporation to continue working with Rankin/Bass on series like ThunderCats and Silverhawks before also retreating to Ghibli three years later when Walt Disney bought out their studio in 1988 to form Walt Disney Animation Japan to churn out all their direct-to-video movie sequels in the 90s…

Tokyo Movie Shinsha, or TMS, was another studio that jumped on this trend. After a 1981 collaboration with French DIC Audiovisuel animating Ulysses 31 before animating a number of series with DIC’s new American arm. Over the next few decades TMS would animate cartoons for ABC, CBS, DIC, Disney, and Warner Brothers. Among their long list credits are cartoons like DuckTales, Tiny Toons, Ghostbusters, Gargoyles, and Batman: The Animated Series. Who would’ve thought? All the arguments we��ve had over Avatar: The Last Airbender, and EVERY American cartoon is up for debate on whether or not it’s anime. All of them.

One of the earliest adopters was famous televangelist and Christian known for hating ALL of his neighbors, Pat Robertson. Between 1981 and 1983, Robertson’s conservative evangelical Christan television network and production company, the Christian Broadcasting Network, or CBN for short, [55 Years of the Christian Broadcasting Network] recently revamped as a cable network, connected with Tatsunoko Production to produce two 52 episode series. First Super Book, which chronicled the events of the Old and New Testament; and it’s companion series Flying House, in which three kids, a professor, and a robot, travel through time to witness… numerous events of the New Testament… I guess being around for some of the Old Testament stuff would’ve been a little too much for the kids, so I understand.

The 1980s of course saw the rise of cable TV. Regulations of cable infrastructure relaxed causing a subscription increase from 16 million to 53 million households over the decade and a concurrent rise in cable programming networks from 28 to 79. Imagine that FEW networks. But at the time, that meant way more channels and way more airtime to fill, dramatically increasing the need for low budget animated content. By 1986, Japanese companies were starting to catch on to their own value, and so was Japanese yen, and those two factors together caused a rate increase of 40% between 1986 and 1988. At which point many U.S. groups did what they do best and found a cheaper option which meant turning straight to Korea.

Anyway, basically, even if you’re not an anime fan, if you like cartoons at all, even a little bit, chances are you’re at least a fan of Japanese animation. Although nowadays, it’s uh, mostly Korean.

Now I’ve already complained about Fred’s modifications to anime to make it unnecessarily family friendly, but for this next part I have to advise that you remove your children from the room or the car or wherever you’re listening to this podcast.

The end of the 70s marked the beginning of a decade long bloodbath, what I call the hackjob era of anime. We’re not just talking localizations anymore but wholesale editing room carnage of Japanese source material to build entirely new stories. If you’re into Slasher cinema feel free to check out the Harmony Gold episode for more of what follows. It all started with one man… listeners be advised.

As stated before, anime was out for most of the 70s with only films, mostly Toei adaptations of Western fairytales like Puss ‘n Boots, making their way to our shores, until a man named Sandy Frank attended the April 1977 Marche International des Programmes de Television in Cannes, excuse me, I do not speak French, where Tatsunoko was showing off one of its latest anime titled Kagaku Ninja-tai Gatchaman, or Science Ninja Team Gatchaman. The following month he sat down for the premiere of Star Wars and kept thinking back to that cartoon that had all the same elements as the movie he was watching in animation form.

Star Wars’s massive success spurred Frank. He secured the license from Tatsunoko’s Yoshida brothers then called your friend and mine, Fred Ladd, to see if he would be interested in working on the localization. New York-based Fred wasn’t crazy about the idea of helping a production that would be based out of California and rejected the offer outright when he heard that the lead would be not a writer, but an animator from Hanna-Barbera.

Now I may have my own issues with some of Fred’s editorial choices when it came to localization, but I have to respect his instincts here because Sandy Frank Entertainment had a unique approach when it came to the source material... And by that I mean none of them knew Japanese and they didn’t bother finding anyone who did. Despite having the scripts, they basically used none of them, instead watching the episodes and basically kinda interpreting what they saw, generally hacking the anime to bits, adding a cute R2-D2-like character to lighten the mood, and slapping the title Battle of the Planets over the finished product before sending it straight to millions of children's eyeballs in 1978.

And it bombed… so badly. It bombed so badly, in fact, that Turner’s Henry Gillespie would end up calling up none other than Fred Ladd to fix it. Imagine having the foresight to say “no” to a project, and then collecting a check to come fix it, and not have to have your name on it. Sounds dope. They relocalized the whole thing from the original source material and gave it the new title G-Force. And here I have to give Fred some credit, along with lighter FCC restrictions under- [sigh] oh f- I don’t wanna give Reagan props. But [sigh] it w- yeah, it was Reagan. It was Reagan. Reagan lightened FCC restrictions. So anyway, G-Force aired in 1986 to mostly negative criticism, failing to even reach the success of Battle of the Planets, but it seems that was mostly due to Battle of the Planets fans complaining that G-Force was too different… from Battle of the Planets, which was too different from the original Japanese source material. Sometimes you just can’t win, I don’t know what to tell you. I’m sorry. Oh, and if you need any other evidence that Frank may not have known what he was doing, his second claim to fame is the raw number of his movies that have appeared on Mystery Science Theater 3000. The show where they make fun of movies? Yeah.

[MST3K Sandy Frank song]

Next came Force Five in 1980, from Jim Terry Productions, a chop job of five different Toei robot anime: Divine Demon Dragon Gaiking, Planetary Robot Danguard Ace, Getter Robo G, UFO Robot Grendizer, and Sci-Fi West Saga Starzinger.

Then Voltron in 1983 from World Events Productions, a shmooshing together of Beast King GoLion, Armored Fleet Dairugger XV, and Lightspeed Electroid Albegas.

Then the most infamous of them all, Harmony Gold’s Robotech, a chimera of Super Dimension Fortress Macross, Super Dimension Cavalry Southern Cross, and Genesis Climber Mospeada in 1985 which I promised myself I would only speak of in the Harmony Gold episode, so we’re gonna move on.

By the 90s, Streamline and AnimEigo had set up shop and moderately successful but critically acclaimed anime films like Akira, Totoro, and Kiki’s Delivery Service were beginning to make their way to theatrical runs and VHS in the U.S. In fact the proliferation of VHS and the rise of video stores and rental shops like Blockbuster and Suncoast were allowing smaller startups to get into the game with smaller dubbing operations that couldn’t afford to tamper too much with the source material before making direct-to-video releases. Anime was a growing subculture in the U.S. before it finally hit the mainstream in the late 90s…

The 90s would also be the beginning of a historic shift in TV anime in the U.S., rather than editing and rebranding anime for American consumption, one network began marketing anime as a distinct medium. It was the beginning of a new era of “not kids stuff” “adult” animation straight from Japan. I’m talking of course about SyFy channel’s global showcase.

In the early 90s SyFy, or as it was known back then… SciFi, began airing anime films, OVA, and TV shows courtesy of Streamline Pictures and Central Park Media. Titles like Dominion Tank Police, Vampire Hunter D, Project A-Ko, and even Akira all showing up on TV in (most of) their violent glory and distinctly getting called out as Japanese products.

This was just the beginning of a rapid acceleration in awareness of anime that would hit critical mass with two titles. The mid 90s saw America’s introduction to the biggest shonen and shoujo franchises to ever hit the continent, both of which came close to stumbling and falling into obscurity right out of the gate: Dragon Ball Z and Sailor Moon.

America had its first taste of Toriyama’s take on the Chinese epic, Journey to the West, with the late 80s with Harmony Gold’s production of the movies Dragon Ball: Curse of the Blood Rubies and Dragon Ball: Mystical Adventure which renamed Goku and Bulma to Zero and Lena [Mystical Adventure Harmony Gold Dub clip]. They started on the TV series proper but didn’t make it very far since it was... not well received, resulting in what’s known today as the lost dub. But let's not dwell on Harmony Gold too much… because I hate them. They’re bad.

Also, the voice of Zero is also the voice of Naauta in the english dub of Fooly Cooly. So that’s just a fact that I know.

Dragon Ball Z was another story… I should probably specify that Dragon Ball Z is the sequel to Dragon Ball in which Goku grows up physically but not mentally at all, whatsoever, even a little bit. In the early 90s, a bright-eyed Japanese American anime fan by the name of Gen Fukunaga was surprised that one of his favorites, Dragon Ball Z, hadn’t made it over to the states. So, he did what anyone would do in his situation and contacted Toei to see if he could license and distribute the title in the U.S. himself. Seeing as how Gen was just starting up his company and Dragon Ball Z was one of Toei’s most coveted titles, Toei encouraged Gen to pick something else and said no.

With help from Nagafumi Hori was a big name in Toei’s live action arm, they reconsidered the proposal, inked the deal, and in 1994 Funimation was born.

Funimation partnered with Saban Entertainment, a company already involved in localizing Japanese live actions such as Power Rangers, to finance and distribute, and then sold out the home video rights to Pioneer Entertainment who then got a company called Ocean Studios to produce a dub. Saban was very strict about violence so they probably shouldn’t have even been working with DBZ but we ended up getting the first 67 episodes cut down to a 53 episode run in which blood was digitally painted out and mentions of “death” became “the next dimension.” With which I am very familiar.

DBZ entered syndication and found its way to Fox in 1996 but was cancelled two years later in 1998, inconveniently in the middle of the battle against the Ginyu Force right when Goku shows up in an episode titled “Goku… Super Saiyan?” And Americans are left with the biggest cliffhanger in the history of anime. Even bigger than just any episode of Dragon Ball Z, where you think something’s gonna happen and then they spend the next half hour charging up. More on that later.

Sailor Moon had an even rockier start. Having premiered in Japan in 1992 to massive success, its similarity to the hit adapted Super Sentai series known in the U.S. as Mighty Morphin Power Rangers and millions in toy sales made it an attractive license in the U.S.

DIC and Toon Makers entered a bidding war for the license which thankfully DIC won, since Toon Makers mostly wanted the rights to adapt their own Saban-esque hybrid production featuring live action actresses who turn into animated magical girls flying spaceships.

...No!

So the first 89 episodes were cut down to 82 to remove scenes of violence against children, nudity, and, if you’ll excuse the expression, to “de-gay” the series. These episodes were dubbed over with some name changes, and the series entered syndication on U.S. television on the UPN Network, home of Moesha, September 11th 1995, we were so young, and thrown into the entertainment industry is commonly referred to as a “dead” time slot in the early morning due to a lack of confidence in the IP, creating what in the Greek tragedy industry is commonly known as a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Low viewership put production of future dubs on hold and the first 65 episodes were re-run three times and word got out that DIC [DIC Logo - What Were You Really Thinking?] planned on dropping Sailor Moon from syndication. Chi Ming Hung, a Sailor Moon fan and graduate student in physics at State University of New York at Stony Brook, would not take that news lying down. She launched an online campaign which became known as S.O.S. or “Save Our Sailors”, at www.saveoursailors.org or https://www.saveoursailors.org, which gathered over 30,000 signatures, citing much better ratings in Canada where Sailor Moon was being broadcast in a prime television time slot.

The petition was a success, and in 1997 Sailor Moon moved to USA Network and production began on new dubs. The Save Our Sailors campaign is often cited as an early example of the power of anime fan activism when fans coming together could still create positive change rather than resulting in the DOXXING of helpless victims on Twitter.

At this point both Dragon Ball Z and Sailor Moon had a strong fanbase but nothing approaching mainstream recognition. Anime remained an obscure curiosity in the massive ecosystem of American media, but all that would change in the year 1998, the most significant year in anime in America since Astro Boy first aired on American television in 1963.

[Lofi music]

1998 would be anime’s big breakout moment into the American mainstream or, as one man described it, anime’s big bang.

[Explosion]

DeMarco: The big bang for anime on TV really was two-fold. It was Kids’ WB getting Pokemon, and then Toonami getting Dragon Ball Z.

That was Jason, or one half of the second coming of Fred Patton in this analogy I’ve been setting up.

DeMarco: I am Jason DeMarco, the co-creator and runner of Toonami. I’ve been working at Turner, now Warner Brothers, for 23 years.

Jason DeMarco and Sean Akins are two individuals most responsible for making anime what it is today as the co-creators of [Toonami intro] Toonami, a television programming block that you’re probably familiar with if you’re old enough to know what cable TV is, and perhaps the most referenced origin point in the anime fandom. All born from the time-honored television tradition of trying to fill broadcast time. A humble staffer at TNT, Jason was brought on by Sean to pitch a block for afternoon and evenings on Cartoon Network that could recycle re-runs from Turner’s large library of old cartoons.

DeMarco: It was like a reel. It was a very focused, three to five minute reel that contained everything we thought we might want in there, [“Timeless” by Goldie starts] that we thought was cool. So it was like, it was a lot of footage of skaters, it was a lot of hip hop and drum and bass, it was anime clips of I remember we- we bootlegged footage, we bootlegged clips of Dragon Ball Z because we had a, at the time Atlanta had a video store that only catered to Japanese folks [music ends]. And so we would go there and rent Dragon Ball Z VHSs that were not subtitled or in any way translated, just to watch them. We would watch the DBZ movies like Bardock and stuff like that, but without knowing what the fuck was going on, just cause we thought they looked amazing. So we bootleg duped one of those and cut in footage of that, and then we had footage of like Thundercats and like, you know older action cartoons, Space Ghost, and then we mixed that with robots and skaters and film rollout and comic books. It was like we were trying to sort of show, we wanted to create a block that wasn’t just an afternoon action cartoon block, but that represented all the things that we thought kids might be into. Or cool kids, anyway. At the time. And so it was this mishmash of stuff, and I remember we cut it to a drum and bass song. Goldie, “Timeless,” I believe. And that was our pitch, and then we called it Toonami, and then we had the logo made and it was like this crazy bubble 90s font, and so that was the pitch and then basically that’s what they saw “oh okay, that looks cool, let’s give them a little bit of money and see what they do.”

So, umm, basically anime wasn’t originally part of the deal, but Jason really wanted it. They started out with adjacent titles like the aforementioned Thundercats and “American” hybrid productions of several anime like Robotech and Voltron but, since anime was still cheap, they eventually got some budget to buy some real anime. Namely, Sailor Moon and Dragon Ball Z.

DeMarco: Well, we wanted it in there from the very beginning, but initially they said “look, we’re not gonna give you any money for programming right away, we’ll give you money to make this packaging stuff to make it into something, but for now, you’re just going to have to re-run what shit we already have lying around.” And so they already had the rights to I think Thundercats and they already had the rights to Herculoids and Space Ghost and Birdman and there was like a couple of other cartoons. And then we started off, and they started coming to us and saying “well what else would you want us to show?” And we said “have you heard of this show ‘Robotech?’” And they got Robotech pretty cheap, and then I think it was Sailor Moon came along, the opportunity to get Sailor Moon, and then we pushed them to get Dragon Ball Z. And they didn’t know what the fuck we were talking about, but they were able to find- it was airing at that time in cable markets, you know, like it wasn’t national, but it was in certain places. And so we were able to get the Ocean dub and so we started airing Dragon Ball Z, and from there it just totally took- like Sailor Moon did really well, and the Dragon Ball did incredibly well, and from there we were allowed to sort of pick and choose, as long as it fit something that could be shown to kids, we could kinda pick and choose the anime for a while.

The block launched its first anime in 1998 and, while many of us recall what an explosive moment it was in retrospect, it took a while before Jason and Sean realized the scope of what they’d created.

DeMarco: The day Toonami launched was probably Gil turning in the tape an hour before they went live, because they fucked around with it until the very last second. And nobody, there was no anticipation anyone was going to give a shit. It was literally just work, like “ah, woo, got that thing turned in.” And really, we were so disorganized and we were just all in our 20’s, you know what I mean, that it was a miracle that we got the tapes turned in every week, let alone that the block kept going. But yeah, there was no, it wasn’t like now where there’s instant feedback and you know 10 minutes later if your thing has been well received. It was like, there was, I mean there- the internet was not what it is, we were barely using email, so you certainly weren’t going on social media sites and getting instantaneous feedback on everything you’re doing. You had to wait a week for the ratings to come in, and then you had to wait months before you actually heard out in the world what people felt about your thing. I mean, the first time I realized people were really into Toonami was, I think, a year or two in, when we went to a con for something and were like “huh, there’s a lot of people here who like Toonami,” you know, or we did a contest called the “Space Ghost Coast to Coast,” where we gave away a bunch of trips to um… Six Flags across the United States. And I remember that like there were so many people that called in that it like broke the phone line, and that was an indicator like “oh, people like our stuff.” But that’s the only way you knew back then.

Even as Jason and Sean were waiting on ratings data, what would grow to become the largest anime fan community in the United States were tuning into Cartoon Network and watching Dragon Ball Z and Sailor Moon for the first time. That includes myself. Within a few years these titles, which had already played on Network TV but were no more recognizable than any other series that played for brief stints on television, would osmotically rise to a level of ubiquity where even the most media illiterate can recognize a picture of Goku or Usagi-er-Serena, [cough] Serena [Sailor Moon clip of a character saying “Serena”] even if they don’t know the characters’ name.

It was on Toonami that the newly dubbed episodes for both series were finally broadcast, in DBZ’s case finally ending the years-long cliffhanger of the “Goku… Super Saiyan?” episode. He of course wasn’t. Goku didn’t become a Super Saiyan until 42 episodes later in “Transformed at Last.”

Soon the two were joined by titles like Ronin Warriors, Gundam Wing, and the many Tenchi series and eventually other tentpole titles that would pull in a new generation of fans like Cowboy Bebop, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Naruto, and Fullmetal Alchemist. For the next 10 years, all the blockbuster series that fans credit with inspiring their interest in Japanese animation were almost universally delivered to them through Toonami.

The block has even evolved with changes in the industry, existing today as a prestige spot for modern anime, where the most popular simulcast series eventually find their way to network TV.

DeMarco: Steaming, and a lot of shows have streaming-specific deals, I mean it’s changed everything from our deal structures to what we pay to how quickly we need to try to get shows on the air to how fast shows are dubbed. I mean, the speed of access to streaming means that your average anime fan who’s watching Toonami now has already watched whatever we’re showing subbed on Crunchyroll. So they’re watching it a second time, because they wanna see the dub. And so for us, it sort of, it allows us- first of all, we’ll know when shows are hot because they’ll hit places like Crunchyroll and people’ll start talking about them and saying “hey, you guys should check this out!” And second, everything moves faster. Like, we’re showing The Promised Neverland in a couple weeks, and it literally just finished, the sub version just finished its first season and we’re going to have the dub on a couple weeks later, you know? And I think we’re going to see that window get tighter and tighter and tighter until it’s simultaneous premieres for all kinds of shows. So it’s changed everything, and for fans I would argue for the better.

It’s no exaggeration to say Toonami may have been the most significant event in the history of anime localization in North America. Nowadays, if you speak to any anime fan between 25 and 40, they almost universally trace a straight line back to Toonami as their point of discovery for the medium, making its creator Jason DeMarco and Toonami’s robot host TOM two of the most beloved names in the fandom.

Now all this was great for the young adult fandom, but even as Toonami was lifting up the action shonen series of the 90s to mainstream popularity, a company called 4Kids was infiltrating kids programming and toy sales with some titles that would become as notorious for their popularity among children as they were for their parents complete inability to understand them.

DeMarco: I mean, it kinda did what the streaming boom is doing now. It just flooded money into the anime business and so there was a gold rush. It was like Dragon Ball became a massive hit, and then Pokemon became a massive hit and a massive merchandising success; and the success of those two shows and then Naruto behind them just sort of blew the doors open and sort of suddenly everybody was in the anime business.

The Pokemon anime hit America like a runaway Rhyhorn, airing on Kids’ WB on September 8th 1998, followed by Pokemon Red and Blue just 20 days later, then trading card game in December [Kids’ WB Pokemon bumper], almost immediately becoming the most popular childrens’ program in the U.S. with the games selling almost 10 million units, and the cards becoming ubiquitous at the picnic tables of every school recess in the nation.

While DBZ and Sailor Moon were still picking up steam but ultimately still passable as just another “show my teenager is into,” the Pokemon craze was impossible to ignore and the reaction by parents and the media was... I will just say violent and probably more than a little racist. Like, a lot racist.

The panic over Pokemon frequently became the subject of national news as legions of parents, pundits, and “licenses experts” tried breaking down this strange Japanese cartoon show from every angle to reveal its nefarious intent and definitely gave themselves away by calling it an “invasion.” Among the earliest complaints were that the series promoted violence, smoothly skating over American’s proud 50-year legacy of sensibly chuckling at a cat getting crushed, set on fire, or having its skin ripped off in the pursuit of an anthropomorphized mouse. Or also its proud history of… real life violence.

It was also accused of promoting gambling and addictive behavior, with newscasters referring to schoolyards as black markets for Pokemon trading cards ignoring contemporary American products like Magic: The Gathering or “the classics” like… baseball cards. This shit went on for YEARS, and I distinctly remember the Yu-Gi-Oh! card game entering that same conversation which had never really stopped shortly after its release almost half a decade later in March 2002.

If you weren’t around back then you probably got a small taste of what it was like during Niantics recent release of Pokemon GO with national news agencies blaming inattentiveness caused by the game for multiple assaults against players rather than… y’know… our country just not really being that a safe place?

If anime had a mainstream moment, it wasn’t Akira or even Dragon Ball Z, but Pokemon that was the first encounter, at least knowingly, between the majority of Americans and Japanese animation, setting off an arms race among media and toy companies for more of these cheap kids cartoons with merchandise options and launching a thousand articles titled “Watch out parents, BLANK is going to be the NEXT Pokemon!”

Fox Kids led the charge to catch up, broadcasting Digimon: Digital Monsters in August 1999 and partnering with 4Kids for Yu-Gi-Oh! in September 2001.

These franchises were obviously profitable on their own but even more so because media conglomerates found that even after 40 years of dealing with Americans, Japanese license holders were woefully ill-equipped to leverage the valuable IPs they were putting on the international market. And in this, 4Kids was also well ahead of the curve.

Kelts: Japan is still relatively provincial and isolated, so marketers tend to focus exclusively on Japan. And then when it comes to a foreign market, they just get confused or lack confidence and then they often just get a foreign partner. So in the case of Pokemon, which is classic, Pokemon signed away, back in 1996, they signed away all their subsidiary rights to an American company called 4Kids based in New York and they got something like $11 million overnight from 4Kids, and then they got nothing else.

Interviewer: [groan]

Kelts: So while Pokemon was taking off, TV series, and the feature films, anime feature films, selling out cinemas, the card games, everything, the creators, the five companies that created it here in Japan were getting nothing. They finally went to court back in 2004 and the legal team from Nintendo USA managed to get the rights back, eventually.

Of course, we’ll get into to that later… and that voice, by the way, was Roland Kelts, a Japanese American writer and journalist who literally wrote the book on the pop culture exchange between Japan and the U.S.

Kelts: You know, I ended up writing a book called “Japanimerica,” and that was because the publisher, the American publisher called Palgrave MacMillan came to me. I had written about Miyazaki Hayao, and I’d written about Haruki Murakami, the novelist, and various Japanese artists, so they asked me if I’d consider doing this book about anime and manga in the United States. At first I said no, because I thought it’s not really that popular in the U.S., you know? I didn’t, I didn’t really think anybody would care that much. And then um- because I was already living in Japan so I started, I was back in New York and I started poking around and talking to college kids and you know started realizing that “wow, they know a LOT [laughing] about Japanese pop culture.”

Taking advantage of Japan’s less sophisticated understanding of international rights, 4Kids made fortunes off Pokemon and Yu-Gi-Oh! with tricks like large upfront payments that didn’t provide any royalties for physical sales or merchandising, making sublicense contracts with other American companies to obfuscate their numbers, and outright cooking their books. They lied.

But seven-digit sums weren’t the only things 4Kids was editing. They were also editing… uh, everything...

Perhaps the greatest irony of the Pokemon panic era was parents crying about the violence in cartoons that were specifically edited for American consumption. It’s almost as if the broadcasters knew that parents' tolerance for violence and sexual content were lower in the U.S. than they were in Japan. And nowadays we look back at the 4Kids onigiri erasure [Pokemon: Jelly donut clip] and Yu-Gi-Oh! replacing guns with characters literally pointing their fingers to look like guns and we sadly shake our heads, but given the fits people were having over the edited down versions, it’s more difficult to criticize that decision.

It’s important to note that 4Kids is probably most notorious for their edits because of bizarre decisions like giving Sanji a brooklyn accent but just about every anime that made it to TV was edited for content in some way.

In addition to some breakout IPs, there was one more component to anime’s exploding popularity at the turn of the millenia that’s more difficult to quantify. Kids who grew up with the internet were entering their teens and the internet itself was developing more sophisticated ways of bringing together communities of like-minded people.

Kelts: The internet suddenly enabled fans to not only access the content, eventually, but also as you put it, to fansub the content and get it out there. And then at the same time, really important part of it was community. Because of the internet, fans could find other fans. So it didn’t matter if you were in Nebraska or New York City, you could like go “hey, man, are you into this? I’m into this, this is- this is awesome!” And that builds up a whole sense of confidence and community and you know, sharing of tips and ideas, and it also eventually communicated to the Japan side that “wow, there’s a lot of people out there who [chuckling] who like this shit,” you know? Like, I think the internet was magic.

Where before you’d have to bust your ass searching through webrings to find a site with some GIFs of your favorite anime, new communities on message boards and IRC made your fandom searchable and interactive, and eventually gave way to Reddit and the apparently maligned Gaia Online…

But no longer did you have kids in the mid-west discovering anime, thinking they were literally the only person in 10 square miles that liked it, and eventually switching back to football so they’d have something to talk with their friends about at school. Now they could log on to a forum dedicated to their favorite shows and give up their social life entirely. The internet had already been a growing force in anime fandom but combined with Toonami and Pokemon, its effect was multiplied.

The supplying force of media companies looking for cheap, timeblock-filling animation and niche fandom or creator-driven localization were giving way to a huge demand specifically for more of that good Japanese stuff...

Kelts: There were certain artists, a limited number of artists and producers, Tezuka was one of them, who wanted their work to have an international audience. And at the time, “international” meant “American,” mostly, back in the 60s and 70s. So Tezuka and the Yoshida brothers, who made Speed Racer and Battle of the Planets- oh, sorry, and Battleship Yamato, but most of it [chuckles] most of that story was driven by demand. Which is to say that in most cases, Japanese artists and Japanese studios did VERY little to really promote their work overseas. And part of that was linguistic problems, part of that was Japan’s relative isolation from the rest of the world, and so when you talk about the explosive growth in the 2000s, you know late 90s, early 2000s, that was really heavily demand driven. I mean, that was a lot of Americans- and other nationals, Europeans, French especially, actually demanding the work from Japan.

[Lofi music]

And so the early 2000s saw anime as a real mainstream force which would only continue to grow until now 20 years later Michael B. Jordan is doing Naruto fashion collabs and Kardashians are citing TRIGGER anime as the inspiration for their hair color and Porter Robinson is joining forces with A-1 pictures to make his own anime music video and also Megan Thee Stallion is being interviewed by us, Crunchyroll, on Instagram Live during quarantine? But it wasn’t quite so easy…

The rising prominence of Toonami, Pokemon, and some blockbuster movie releases created a firm following for anime in the U.S. after the turn of the millenia, but anime would soon become a victim of its own explosive growth. Big media companies like Warner Brothers, Fox, and Sony were suddenly interested in investing in anime again and they brought their monolithic pocketbooks to the bidding wars which caused the costs of licensing anime to skyrocket.

Japanese companies were also moving into the U.S. market, cutting out the middleman to manage their own properties in the U.S. and further increasing competition. Aniplex opened a division based out of Santa Monica called Aniplex of America and Japan Content Investments, or JCI, was formed by several Japanese interests to essentially act as a lender to help U.S. companies spend more on anime titles.

Even as new titans of the shonen genre in Naruto, Bleach, and One Piece rose to prominence, labeled by the American fandom (and pretty much only the American fandom) as the “Big 3,” many of the companies that had spent the past 20 years building up the anime industry into what it was were beginning to buckle under the pressure. Saban was broken up and sold to Disney in 2001, Streamline’s new owner Orion didn’t want to compete in the anime market and the company slowly withered until its 2002 closure, and the U.S. branch of Manga Entertainment stopped licensing new properties and was reduced down to a skeleton crew in 2004.

Then... the recession hit, the anime bubble burst, and things got WAY worse.

Geneon suddenly closed in 2007 for reasons that are still unclear. Central Park Media had been on a steady decline throughout the decade and finally filed for bankruptcy in 2009.

Alright, I’m about to drop a lotta acronyms and uh, company names, so maybe grab a pen and paper… or a tablet, iPad, whatever. Maybe one of those Toshiba laptops that convert into a tablet? Y’know, it’s the future. I’ll give you a second.

Okay.

AD Vision, or ADV for short, went through probably the most spectacular closure in 2009. The year before, 30 titles had disappeared from ADV’s website, and Funimation later announced they had been added to their own library as part of a partnership with ARM (part of the aforementioned JCI), which I will from henceforth refer to as ARM [pronounced like the body part], because it makes sense. Unable to pay back its licensing loans to ARM, ADV split its assets, licenses, and debts into multiple companies: Sentai Filmworks, Section23 Films, Valkyrie Media Partners, Seraphim Studios, and AEsir Holdings, with AEsir Holdings acting as the fall guy to absorb the debt and go bankrupt. Section23 was allegedly named after the subsection of Texas Debt law that allows a company to pull this kind of move. Obviously that didn’t go over very well, because three years later they were embroiled in a lawsuit with Funimation to the tune of $9 million dollars for “breach of contract” which I’m sorry to report ended in an undisclosed settlement out of court.

4Kids’s shady dealings would come home to roost when in 2006 Pokemon USA reclaimed the Pokemon anime from them as of season 9 and 2007 and 2008 saw them losing their programming blocks with both Warner Brothers and Fox. Then in 2011 4Kids ended up on the receiving end of a lawsuit with TV Tokyo and Nihon Ad Systems for “underpayments, wrongful deductions, and unmet obligations” for almost $5 million dollars for their handling of Yu-Gi-Oh!, which is probably generous considering it’s estimated 4Kids had made over $150 million dollars thanks to Yugi Muto. 4Kids maintained the rights to Yu-Gi-Oh! but they entered a death spiral, filing for chapter 11 bankruptcy in the midst of the court proceedings. In the following year 4Kids would lose the broadcast rights to Dragon Ball Z Kai to Saban, Yu-Gi-Oh! to Konami, and they would have to pay out another $1 million dollars to The Pokemon Company International. In 2012 they announced they would be reincorporating into 4Licensing Incorporated which itself entered bankruptcy in 2016.

This was a scary time in anime fandom, as the financial backlash of the multiple closures traveled across the Pacific to Japan, rocking the market in an industry that had begun to rely on international investment. Companies that no longer existed couldn’t renew licenses, causing a huge number of anime to fall into limbo, disproportionately affecting the most culturally important anime as licence holders now recognized their value while American publishers have since been unwilling or unable to pony up the cash to secure it.

Maybe the most iconic example of this was Neon Genesis Evangelion, which remained in the wind for a decade after ADV’s collapse and was only recently rescued when Netflix licensed it for what was likely an irresponsible amount of money (yet somehow not enough to cop the rights to Fly Me to the Moon?).

Things were looking bad for the anime industry at the end of the decade. Markets were in a tumultuous state, prices for anime licenses had been driven to unattainable peaks, and a new competitor was emerging...

While the industry floundered, a new generation of tech savvy youth suddenly had an easy alternative to spending $25 at Suncoast for a four episode DVD or waiting for a series to show up on Toonami. Piracy was easier than ever and now had some considerable advantages over legal channels when it came to distribution. Unburdened by negotiating licensing deals, managing physical distribution, or quality checking their product, file sharing services had made pirates the quickest source to watch new anime.

“Piracy is a service problem” is a famous quote by Valve’s Gabe Newell which I personally believe is bullshit, but something had to change to pull anime out of its nosedive.

And, since someone is paying me to talk about this, obviously something did.

[Lofi music]

Thank you for listening to Anime in America, presented by Crunchyroll. If you enjoyed this, please go to Crunchyroll.com/animeinamerica to watch some of the shows we mentioned in this episode, like Naruto or Fullmetal Alchemist. You can watch free, with ads, or get a 14-day free premium membership because… I like you, and my personal opinion is what matters.

Special thanks to Jason DeMarco and Roland Kelts for taking the time to talk with us.

This episode is hosted by me, Yedoye Travis, and you can find me on Instagram at ProfessorDoye or Twitter @YedoyeOT. This episode is researched and written by Peter Fobian, edited by Chris Lightbody, and produced by me, Braith Miller, Peter Fobian, and Jesse Gouldsbury.

By: [email protected]

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