#just encountered it in print for the first time - but it was from a local author writing a character who’s supposed to be from Maryland

[homestuckreplay]

psychoanalyzing rose’s mother (because rose won’t do it)

(page 903-910)

The Skaianet Laboratory Unestablishment countdown ticks from 1:43 down to 1:34. I see those 413s being snuck in. I am genuinely at a point where if I see a number that isn’t 413 I get suspicious.

I love Rose so so much. And I love that she’s into psychoanalysis (kind of). But her saying ‘this incongruous thing? I pretend I do not see it’ is just like her saying there is ‘nothing to psychoanalyze’ about her mother’s love of wizards (p.360). She’s going in with preconceived expectations and not willing to interrogate the unexpected.

Like. Let’s look at the facts. In this massive, empty lab with thousands of twinkling boxes and no people, somebody has left a pink plastic table and chairs, a tea set, a scarf, a pink and white bed with cat, flower, heart and paw print designs, a princess themed dresser, cat stuffed toys, and WIZARD DOLLS. Pretty pink masters of the arcane with their long beards and pointy hats. Kind of a giveaway as to which local wizard-loving woman might own all this.

Rose’s mom has brought all this down to the lab, where she either works or just spends time. And she’s probably lonely down here and trying to recapture a childhood, whether that’s her own or Rose’s. We know from the pretty princess doll (p.363) that Mom likes to buy traditionally girly gifts for Rose, so this could even be old toys of Rose’s that she doesn’t even remember, her mom still playing with them to remind her of when she used to play with Rose. If Mom works here, then she’s up at this meteor terminal thinking about how one day, her daughter and anyone else they both care about are both going to be in danger from this upcoming apocalypse. And maybe she wants to hold on to the time she’s had with Rose before everything changes, or maybe she wishes she could be the one being taken care of, miles from the nearest town and with no partner or other family at home. She’s looking for comfort, she may well want to escape her own daughter’s judgment, and ultimately she has to parent herself as much as Rose does.

All this very important content is immediately overshadowed by the tiny kitten. There is a kitten hiding in the teapot. A TEAPOT SIZED KITTEN. I thought I was over this but I am not. A SMALL KITTEN!

Page 909 is composed similarly to Jade’s furry thoughts on page 797, but with the opposite emotion behind it. But clowns is clowns, and I don’t think John is scared of finding a bunch of regular ass harlequins like Dad might keep downstairs. That also wouldn’t explain why John’s always been kept from going in Dad’s room (and I could be wrong but it seems uncommon to not even know what’s inside a parent’s room). I think John is scared that his dad has a different secret. Based on the contents of Dad’s safe (p.544) I wonder if Dad is an amateur investigator who’s been looking into some of the strange phenomena associated with Skaia. Maybe John is about to encounter red-string cork boards and more tidbits about meteors, and find out that his dad is way more involved in current events than previously thought.

In page titles, ‘ascend’ first appears on page 660 and ‘descend’ not until page 840 (though the word is used in passing on both page 358 and 361). ‘Ascend’ also appears on page 759 in Nanna’s prophecy, where she states that ‘together [the Heir, Seer, Knight and Witch] will Ascend’. On page 909 the narrator treats ‘descend’ as an expectation, but it’s a fairly recent one. It’s one of my favorite things about serial fiction to see these tidbits of patterns and lore be dropped in and then woven through the narrative as if they’ve always been crucial, until it’s impossible to divorce the two. But it’s still possible to see that Homestuck characters weren’t ascending on day one.

> John: Examine room.

[starbuck]

okay, here’s a question: do any of you out there naturally use the phrase “whole-nother” to mean “entirely different,” i.e. “that’s a whole-nother thing”?

i’m trying to figure out if it’s a regionalism from the East Coast Mid-Atlantic area or just an overall Americanism.

[cheolsblackgf]

office encounters [l.jh]

⇒ woozi x reader

⇒ word count: 3.8k (including the bonus)

⇒ warnings: just some insults but nothing too crazy

⇒ content: office romance; rivals to lovers; some kissing yadda yadda; little bit of girl bossing

⇒ note: hello pls don’t @ me about how long it’s been i already know.. didn’t think this would mark my return bc i wrote this almost a year ago but lowkey i kinda cooked with this one so i thought i’d share.. also side note PLEASE come to my inbox if you find an error bc i literally proofread like 14 times looking for this one error i saw before but it just disappeared or smth idk so if you find it i’ll give you a brownie!!! anyways 시작해볼까요

“You look pretty today.”

Jihoon from corporate communication usually has a sarcastic quip for you when you cross paths in the copy room. Where humor comes easy for him, annoyance comes easy for you the same. You both seem to get on each other’s nerves in all the right ways; never enough to report the other to HR, but enough that you’d steer clear of him the entire day if he said something that got under your skin. Something like, “Why’s marketing’s posters suck so bad?” He’ll ask, and subsequently answer himself with, “Oh, that’s right. ‘Cause you’re the one making them.” Either he doesn’t know you spend so much time figuring out which design looks best, or he knows and purposely wants to get you riled up. It works, because you’re an emotional person and if someone criticizes your work, it feels like a personal attack.

This time, though, you’re making flyers for the office yard sale slash fundraiser, and he’s making copies of coupons for the local stores. Since there are about forty floors in your building, you’ll easily be occupied for at least two hours, hanging multiple flyers on each floor. Jihoon has his hands full as well, he makes one hundred copies for each store, with there being four stores total in the area. Luckily, you go to the copier first, so when he walks in, you quickly rest with a smug smile on your face.

“Hey,” he says casually. You’re waiting for him to tell you to hurry your ass up on the copier but he doesn’t. Hey?

Instead, you respond, “Hi,” and turn back to the copier to see how many sheets are left. Still sixty five.

“You look pretty today.” He tries next. You almost hit cancel on the print job right then and there. How can he say something like that. You look pretty today? Try again, Lee! It’s not gonna work!

You don’t immediately thank him for his compliment. You just think that somehow, he’ll add in a “—pretty ugly!” and then laugh it off. That’s the Jihoon you know. Not this “hey” man. Usually when you walk into the copy room, he groans and rolls his eyes. He always has a dig ready, too. “Didn’t realise it was loser day at the copy machine.” He’d say. You always have something to come back at him with. “Must be why you’re here.” It doesn’t seem like he’ll bicker with you today at all.

The display on the machine says there’s still forty sheets left. That means you can either pretend you left something at your desk and quickly exit the room until it’s done, or you can brave it and see what this guy is up to.

The second one. “I look pretty today? What are you up to?” You narrow your eyes at him, assuming there’s either a catch or some sort of joke hidden in his praise.

“No gimmicks,” he shrugs. “I just call it like I see it.” Oh, okay.

He’s standing on one side of the machine with you at the other. The polite smile stained on his face drives you up a wall. You feel like if you reciprocate it, it’ll be overkill. Him complimenting you doesn’t change the fact that you are office enemies. His team and your team often clash, as they’re the ones that share your team’s ideas with the higher ups, only after an intense filtering which often strips your ideas down to nothing. It always sucks because he acts so smug about it when your ideas don’t get pitched how you envisioned them. “Get some better ideas then,” he’d say. Of course, you can’t go out like that, so you tell him “Tell your team to think of one idea to begin with. You get your rocks off by stealing ours, your department would be helpless without us.” It’s mostly true, but sometimes, Jihoon has good ideas. When you two are having a good day, you’ll show each other ideas and give helpful feedback. But that usually doesn’t happen if either one of you has a quip locked and loaded already.

“Didn’t realise your mouth was able to produce compliments when it comes to me.” Twenty two sheets left. He reaches over you for the mini scotch tape. “You know, usually when someone compliments you, you just say thank you and forget about it in five minutes.” While he focuses on his task with the tape, you stare at the display on the copier and watch the number of sheets remaining go down, just so you don’t have to look at him.

He’s never called you pretty before. You need everyone to understand this. The only times he compliments you are rare and they’re always work related. Nice job during that tug of war. Those prints look great. These tchotchke designs would surely sell well. The dessert you brought to the potluck was delicious.

New to the list: you look pretty today.

You’re not sure how to feel internally, but externally, your mind is already made up. You’re annoyed. How could he say something like that with such a serious face and not be joking? Why couldn’t he be joking?

“I would say thank you, but I don’t know what this is.” He raises his eyebrows at your comment. “This? I don’t know what it is either because I can’t figure out what you’re talking about.”

The copier chimes to tell you the print job is finished. You log out of the machine and move aside to collect your sheets. You’ll definitely have to make a second trip—and perhaps with a box of some sort to hold all of the sheets—but you just want to leave this room.

Jihoon starts to grab a stack of the sheets as well. “Where are these going?” He asks, sounding nothing but sincere.

“Don’t know yet. I have to put them on each floor, though. I’ll find something to put them in in a little bit.”

“D’you need help?”

You set the sheets down. “Okay, listen. I was fine playing that game three minutes ago, but I don’t get it. Every day you look at me like the bane of your existence. You tell me my designs suck, you only fill my tea mug halfway when I ask for some, and you hog the copy machine whenever I need to use it. What gives?”

It would be hard to refute the fact that Jihoon is very handsome, and you have imagined an alternate universe where he was nice to you and even flirted with you, but nothing past that. You’ve never thought of what it would be like to be his girlfriend, to wake up in the morning beside him, to have him fill your tea mug up until it’s full, to meet in the copy room to steal a few extra kisses—okay, maybe a couple times you’ve thought of this. But it almost always gets overshadowed by his behaviour towards you. He is rude to you. He doesn’t like you enough to give up the act, but he also doesn’t hate you enough to ignore you completely. He has some sort of balance that only works with you. He playfully fights with other coworkers, but only as a stand-alone. Your feud is cemented into the very foundations of the building you each show up to every morning at seven o’clock on the dot. It’s ritualistic. It’s familiar. It sucks.

Jihoon leans against the wall and crosses his arms. “What gives? I just think you look pretty today. Can’t a man compliment his pretty coworker once? It’s really not that unheard of, but if you think something else is going on, you’re right. I like you. I never said it before because I assumed you also liked me which is why we do what we do, but I’m getting the feeling you don’t feel the same way which is fine. We can just go back to how we were and forget this ever happened.”

You take the stack of copies you were holding before and quickly leave the room. Once they’re placed on your desk, you awkwardly make your way back to the copy room and get the next set of sheets. Jihoon hasn’t moved from his position against the wall even after you’ve signed off of the machine and relocated the copies out of the way.

Truthfully, you just didn’t know what to say. Him confessing this way was not only unexpected, but also a bit annoying. To think, he’s liked you all this time but consistently and routinely found enjoyment in belittling you. Granted, you also took part in it against him, but only as retaliation and defense for yourself. The whole reason this rivalry started was because he made a comment against you. Why would you be mean to someone you like?

The week goes by slowly without Jihoon’s teasing. He comes by your cubicle once to offer you a mini cupcake from the convenience store on the fifth floor. You decline. He doesn’t come back again.

You thought of pulling him aside to really unpack and discuss everything, but then you consider how much worse it could get if you do that. Things are already pretty bad if neither of you have spoken or even just said hi to each other.

By Friday of the next week, though, you’ve had it with the silence. Your cubicle conveniently is in view of the copy room so you slyly watch the door waiting for Jihoon to go in there. He always prints to-do sheets on Friday for everyone in his department for the following week. At eleven on the dot, you see him disappear in there and you make your move immediately, booking it for the room.

You casually walk in and shut the door, but not before making sure no one was coming. No one really likes it when the door to the copy room is shut because people have been caught doing … things in there, but this shouldn’t take you long. Definitely not enough time to do … things with anyone.

“Hey,” You try, in the same tone as he used with you last week. He looks up from the machine and gives you a confused yet tired look. “What are you doing?” He sighs.

“You look pretty today.” You smile, hopping up on the counter and swinging your legs. He finishes signing in on the printer and runs his print job. He turns around to face you fully. “If you’re here to make fun of me for being nice to you, I think it’s best you stop now because I don’t find it amusing.”

You grin at him. “The opposite actually. I think it’s cute that you like me, but I really wish you would’ve asked me on a date first. And maybe just been nicer to begin with?” Both your eyes dart to the door as a polite knock is heard from the outside. You jump down from the counter and place your hands on Jihoon’s shoulders from behind. Your head rounds the side of his face. “Walk me to my car later?” And he agrees.

You go to let the person in and see yourself out. It feels a bit elementary, that proposal. Walk me to my car? gives the same energy as walk me home from the bus stop? and if you weren’t already getting some twisted wave of déjà vu, you definitely are now.

You didn’t know Jihoon until last year when he started working for this company. The previous person in his position suffered an extreme illness that forced them to resign so he promptly had to fill their position. He wasn’t trained that well, but he’s done the best he could thus far. You don’t know what you would do if he wasn’t in the office. Of course, some of your coworkers are also people you get drinks with from time to time, but Jihoon feels the most… familiar. Despite having never met with him outside of the office, he feels like the most grounding person since he doesn’t put on any front or act with you. You wouldn’t let him either. That’s why his confession feels so out of left field on the one hand, but normal on the other. He doesn’t hide how he feels from you, but he must have if he’s liked you and hasn’t said it until now.

Later comes. It’s 3:42 PM when you finally wrap it up for the day. Jihoon usually leaves earlier than you, but it appears he waited to clock out so you two would leave at the same time.

Okay, you’ll admit that’s sweet. You don’t think you’d do the same for him, but only because you don’t like your job enough to stay any later.

He meets you at your cubicle. “All done?” He asks, moving into your space to help you with your things. “Yep. If you could just carry this bag for me, that would be great, thank you.” He takes the bag from you with no qualms and waits patiently as you gather the rest of your belongings.

You were sadly unable to finish all the work you meant to get done today, so you’re leaving with a bit of homework—namely designing some flyers for part two of the yard sale slash fundraiser. The first fundraiser didn’t go as planned, so the upper level management suggested a second instalment.

Jihoon probably has the same amount of work too, so you wonder how he’s leaving the office empty handed.

On the elevator ride down, neither of you say anything. All you do is stare at the bright red floor descent display and wait until it gets to 1. Upon this happening, Jihoon lets you off first and you lead the way to the parking garage.

“I take it you didn’t get a lot done today?” He wonders, surveying the various items you’re carrying. “Sadly. Honestly, if Claudette hadn’t announced the second fundraiser, I’d be as carefree and empty handed as you.” You meant to come off as nonchalant, but judging by the way Jihoon completely stopped in his tracks upon your completion of the sentence, it was everything but that. “Carefree and empty handed?” He parrots in disbelief.

“CC is scrambling to get Q3 numbers up before having to report to corporate and nothing is working. Honestly, if Claudette didn’t conjure up another fundraiser, you would’ve had to find another sad sap to carry your things to your car because I wouldn’t be here right now.” He explains, which makes you laugh a bit but otherwise frown. You didn’t realise the company’s numbers were so far down that the fundraiser is essentially a double edged sword, but you figured it couldn’t have been for no reason.

Jihoon has always been very efficient with his work, even if about two months ago (maybe even less) you would’ve scoffed and said otherwise. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.” You say, meaning to be encouraging but not entirely sure if it came off that way. “Thanks. You too.”

With your hands full, you couldn’t grab your keys to unlock your car so you have Jihoon do it for you. “Where is this bag going?” He holds it up just in case you forgot which bag it is. “Uh, you can just throw it in the backseat. Well, don’t literally throw it but um—”

“I got it.” He chuckles at your disorganised thoughts.

Once all of your things are settled in the car, you close everything up and stand face to face with Jihoon. “Thank you for the help, I really appreciate it.” You say. “Anytime. I hope you get all your work done.” You reflect the wish back to him. Sadly, you guys just awkwardly stand there for a bit before realising this conversation is not going anywhere else.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, hm? You have my number, right?” He nods and bids you goodbye. You get into your car but don’t start it. Instead, you watch through your rearview mirror as Jihoon turns the corner to the staircase. Had you known his car was on a different level, you would’ve offered to drop him off since the parking garage’s elevator is out of commission. However, in hindsight, the conversation was already awkward enough.

Later that night, you two text back and forth for multiple hours. All the way until 2AM you guys were exchanging messages. He’s really a sweet guy even over text.

At 2:19, he texts you goodnight and says he’ll see you in the morning.

In the morning, like you expected, you see Jihoon milling about the office floor. He sends you a wave, but his hands are full so it’s nothing more than that. You try to catch him to offer your help, but he disappears in an instant.

The flyers you were supposed to make were only half done because most of your time last night was spent talking to Jihoon. You’re extremely guilty, and you feel horrible because you know all the work you have will carry into the weekend, but you made your bed.

Eventually, Jihoon visits you at your cubicle and apologises for keeping you up last night. “It’s not your fault. I wanted to talk to you.” He smiles at this and gives your shoulder a supportive pat. “You’ll get it done.”

For the rest of the day, he leaves you alone—other than bringing you a mug of tea—and honestly, that was for the best. You do manage to catch up on and finish all the work so you text Jihoon the good news. He suggests ice cream after work to celebrate and you agree.

Your manager stops by your cubicle to compliment your hard work. “And I saw you being extra smiley with Jihoon. Good luck.” Before you can refute her statement with any type of defense, she disappears.

Extra smiley. Hm.

At the end of the day, Jihoon meets you at your cubicle once again and this time, you don’t have anything for him to carry except your comically large tote bag that you bring into the office everyday. Before you two leave, you grab your heels from under your desk that you change out of everyday upon arrival to the office. You attempt to put them in your bag, but Jihoon shakes his head. “Put those on.”

“Why?”

“We’re going out to dinner. As a date.” He reveals. You drop the heels back on the floor. “You really are a sad sap.” You remark, sliding one of your sneakers off. “Not for everyone.”

“So you’re saying I’m special?”

“Something like that, yeah.” He speaks nonchalantly. Coming from him, though, these words mean a lot to you. Ever since his initial confession, you can tell not all of his confidence is there. But it’s your goal to show him that he doesn’t have to try as hard, he’s already got you.

As you struggle with getting your sock off, Jihoon groans. “Hurry up, the reservation is for six o’clock.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Reservation? Wow, you must really like me.” He watches as you slip the other heel on. “You know that already. Come on.” He grabs your hand and leads you to the elevator. You press the down button and wait for the elevator to come up. In that time, Jihoon takes your bag from you and fixes the wrinkles in your dress.

The two of you step into the elevator and after hitting 1, the doors close and it begins its descent. In the reflective doors, Jihoon stares at you. “You’re so pretty.” He says. “Am I?” You respond. He nods. “Thank you, my sad sap.” You add, pausing for dramatic effect.

“Okay, you were pretty until about five seconds ago.” He clarifies, but holds your hand tighter all the while. He thinks maybe you’re right, he is a sad sap. But only when it comes to you.

[the end]

SIKEEEEE

BONUS

You’re almost giggling on your way to the copy room. As soon as you saw Jihoon go in there, you knew it was your cue. It wasn’t any type of plan or anything, but lately, you guys have only been able to meet in the copy room because everyone has gotten extremely suspicious of you guys and you didn’t wanna say anything.

As soon as you make it to the room, you shut the door and see your boyfriend already working on the machine. You hop up and make your place on the counter while Jihoon does his thing. “Clear?” He asks with his back to you. “Clear. For now. Come here.” You hold your arms out just as he turns to you and he makes his way over. “Missed you last night.” You whisper. He leans in to your embrace and presses a kiss to your lips. “Me too. Let’s get dinner tonight.” All your plans with Jihoon have been spontaneous because the workload has been unpredictable lately. If you both end the day with no incomplete assignments, you’ll go out and do something together, but if not, you save it for another day.

His print job ends and he reluctantly breaks away from you to go grab his copies. There’s only maybe twenty in the stack, but he asks you if you have any to make. You hand him the sheet you’re copying and he starts it up for you while you wait patiently on the counter. You zone out to the sound of Jihoon clicking around on the printer settings, so much so that you don’t hear him when he asks you how many copies you need. He asks again, “How many copies, baby?”

“Oh! Sorry, thirty-six please.” He’s not annoyed you weren’t listening. In fact, he smiles a little bit and is amused.

He inputs the amount you need and waits for the machine to start printing before making his way back to you. “What do you feel like for dinner?” He asks, caging you in with his arms. “Not sure, but not seafood.”

He pouts. “But baby, I love seafood.”

“Then you can go get seafood and I’ll stay home and watch Queen of Tears.” He gasps at this idea. Even though you’re not serious, he fakes being upset for a second.

A moment later, the door opens and your manager Claudette walks in. She doesn’t see you two right away, but once she does, she says “Oh brother,” and walks right out. She leaves the door open and you can hear her call out to someone else and say, “You owe me twenty dollars!”

You and Jihoon exchange a look. “Who do you think she’s talking to?” You ask him. He pauses for a second and moves away from you. “Me.”

“What?” But he’s already on his way out of the room. “See you later!” He doesn’t realise that he’s forgotten his copies so you’ll definitely be seeing him again soon.

The office will definitely be on fire by tomorrow with this news, you’re already aware. On the bright side, though, you can finally celebrate your first public couple activity: getting bullied by the entire office.

[the end (real)]

masterlist

[dailyadventureprompts]

Encounter: The Bridgebuilder's Impasse

Frustrated with interruptions to the flow of commerce, a local caravan magnate has hired your party to slay the giant who's repeatedly destroyed the bridge spanning a turbulent river causing delays and costly detours across the realm. The one wrinkle to this otherwise straightforward mission is that the giant is the one who built the bridge in the first place, and rather than hunting a rampaging monster you and your companions have signed on to assassinate a beloved local artisan.

Whoever said “two heads are better than one” never met the giant Gilbult Gultib (or Gultib Gilbult, as he often insists) who far more embodies the adage “Every artist is their own worst critic”.  Immensely talented in stonecutting and engineering, Gilbult (or Gultib depending on who you ask) has been building and rebuilding the same bridge for the better part of two centuries, sometimes letting it stand for a generation, sometimes scrapping it and starting over several times over the course of the same month. 

With a perfectionist streak as wide as the river he's trying to cross, neither head can agree how, muchless when the bridge should be finished, agreeing only that what came before will be insufficient going forward and that they must return to the drafting board once again.

Adventure Hooks:

The locals are of divided opinion about Gultib Gilbult, most regard him as something of a curiosity, as much a fixture of the landscape as the river itself, while others see him as a gruff but otherwise pleasant neighbour or family friend. There's a very vocal minority that wish that he would get on with building the bridge, or else move and leave the maintenance to someone who won't tear it down on a whim, especially the merchants who end up paying an arm and a leg on unexpected barge fees. There's been an uptick in those actively calling for the giant to be driven off, all of which just so happen to be in the pay of the local quarry owner, who's in talks with the Caravan magnate about the construction of a tollbridge in the near future.

Having reached a new low of indecision, the giant has resulted to gambling with himself to decide the composition of this version of the bridge, anteing particular stones against himself in the hope that luck and strategy will let the superior side of his mind win out. This is just as much a stalemate as any other, but may present an opportunity for the party to resolve the situation without violence.

The tricky thing about accepting adventuring contracts from successful merchants is that they're VERY good at paperwork, and while this one did come with a sizeable advance, the fine print threatens numerous penalties (including debt and possible outlawing) if the party don't fulfill their end of the bargain and take out the giant in a timely manner.

Artist

[pyramidsoul]

The Dahmer Case and The Cannibalism Topic

“Cannibal” was the adjective used by media to refer Dahmer the most as they learnt of the man’s gruesome acts. It was synonymous of terror and horror at that time, the name of Jeffrey Dahmer echoed not only in the city of Milwaukee but also around the entire world. It was unusual to hear of a criminal who eat his victims, it was a shocking news, and the name of Jeffrey Dahmer was remembered under the name of "The Milwaukee Cannibal”. But what was behind this name? What did it mean for Dahmer and where's cannibalism come from?

Jeffrey Dahmer in 1991

The Cannibalism for Jeffrey Dahmer

The cannibalism act didn’t occur immediately but it happened later with his sixth victim Raymond Smith (aka Ricky Beeks). Jeffrey Dahmer just moved in his new apartment in Milwaukee, at 924 N. 25th St., and he was ready to live by himself after leaving his grandma's house. It was already some years that Dahmer decided to attend gay clubs, where he frequently had encounters with strangers for one night stands. It was 1990 and Dahmer already doped and raped many boys, killing five of them too. But it was starting to not be enough, Dahmer was unsatisfied and he needed more. Cannibalism presented itself as a "simple" next step for Dahmer: after experiencing gay sex, to then having an unconscious body on his hands, on wishing to preserve all that pleasure, and seeing the people as objects, cannibalism subsequently followed as a inevitable action.

Dahmer's desire was to keep people with him, to do not forget the experiences he had with them. The previous attempts as doping the person or seeking for a corpse were a way to feel people close to him at his complete availability for Dahmer, motionless. He thought about the next step: "I began to feel that I needed more of a rush. I thought to myself, I want more. I wanted to keep this one, but I wanted him in me. I wanted him to become a part of me. That's when the idea of eating part of his body occurred to me." (- s. Grilling Dahmer). Dahmer's act wasn't a way to feel more evil or powerful, this was an action of a man who wanted to feel his victims closer. It happened again on his act on cutting and wearing the victims' skin, he wanted to become one with them, wrapped on their skins. At the end he also had the idea of "creating" living zombies willing to follow his orders and to stay with him forver.

The first article ever published on July 23, 1991, on The Journal, written by reporter Anne E. Schwartz, the first and only reporter to come to the scene visiting Dahmer's apartment.

Public’s Take on Dahmer’s Cannibalism

Predictably, people's reaction to Dahmer's cannibalism was shock. Local Milwaukee citizens didn't expect something like Dahmer's case to happen, Milwaukee was a pretty quiet city in Wisconsin where nothing like that ever happened. Soon the morning after Dahmer's arrest, Oxford apartments were already printed in the first page of The Journal, and Jeffrey Dahmer's case was already in people's mouth.

The most concerning, disgusting and shoking element on the case was surely the cannibalism, as already expressed before. At the beginning the cannibalism was an unverified uncertain information, and the reporters had to confirm it by looking at the confession, but soon after that it quickly became a first page topic. Dahmer’s cannibalism was printed on the first pages of newspapers, aimed at shocking people even more. For this reason journals of that time looked for the most unconcerning news, making fake news at times as well. Cannibalism became a topic of so much discussion, almost distorted, the main Dahmer’s case object to be so overused that journalists kept inventing fake news just to shock people even more. They made Dahmer appear like a sadistic monster who felt pleasure when eating all his victims, while the story was quite different as expressed in the paragraph before. Even Dahmer himself had fun with these kind of articles: “Isn't it amazing what they come up with?” he said.

(1)(2)Two articles taking about Dahmer’s cannibalism. (1) Courtesy of jdapt213. (3) Dahmer showing the fake news in court, 1992.

Specialists talking about Dahmer's cannibalism

Psychiatrists and experts tried to give an explaination on Dahmer’s cannibalism. Writer Brian Masters develops an interesting point when talking about infantile play, of parents pretending to be animal ready to devour them and the kids responding to be ferocious cannibal animals. Dr Morrisons also says: "Jeffrey Dahmer was not the only individual who was a cannibal or bit his victims, using his teeth as a weapon. If you remember about infancy, if we go purely psychologically, the only way an infant interacts with the world around him is to touch, feel and teeth, and this is a way that babies explore their world with their mouths. That’s what they use, that’s how they relate to the world. What is evident in all the serial murders is this trait of very oral or mouthing or biting or eating, ingesting, which is very infantile. But it seems a way in which they can be with their victim.”

Even through sexual acts, mouth is an important way to express love. Activities as biting or oral sex rekindle the childish instinct where loving and eating are bounded together. “The adult who prefers oral sex above other sexual experiences indicates an infantile need for nourishment, a wish to recreate the moment of being mothered.” Brian Masters writes. If we look back at Dahmer’s infancy, we notice some early behaviours which indicates some connections to his cannibalism. As already expressed before, cannibalism was just a consequence which came after as Dahmer’s needs continued to evolve. Yet Dahmer always had a lack of social skills, he had difficulties on creating bounds with other people and he was often so isolated. His father Lionel was out bacause of his job, while his mother Joyce struggled with her mental health. Jeffrey found himself alone with the mother's unconscious body some times, there it might have been the moment where he put his hear on his mother's chest to check if her heart was still working, action which was subsequentially repeated with his classmates in highschool and later with his victims. People always left, he was alone, and his lack of social bonds brought him to be even more introvert. Eating an individual is the deepest connection a person can ever get, it removes the feeling of alienation since the victim will live inside them forever and become a permanent part of themselves.

Jeffrey Dahmer's drawing project on creating a shrine where to put his victims' skulls and skeletons, a place to remember and collect his thoughts (Dahmer - 1993 interview).

Cannibalism in history and religion

In modern society cannibalism is almost seen as a taboo, something vile and inhumane. However, this isn't an exact definition, and cannibalism is deeply rooted in our origins. During Europe’s Age of Exploration distant people were often portrayed as cannibals, almost rapesented as bestial creatures. Instead, during 20th Century, the figure of the cannibal was studied more, the new approach wanted to explain more of this behavior, inserted into a certain context. The reasons that lead people to a person could be multiple: a warrior could eat the heart of his opponent to feel more powerful and take his power; a person can eat a relative body to express love and grief for the loss; or again some people can eat a human body as a necessity to survive.

The firsts reports on cannibalism can be found in ancient Greek times with the epic poem The Odyssey by Homer or Histories by Herodotus, but anthropologists suggest that cannibalism dates back to prehistoric times. Moving on, the discovery of cannibals by Cristoforo Colombo in America made people question about the topic on Christian doctrine of the resurrection for example. For that reason Christianity is probably the best example to take in consideration: one fo the most diffused religion in the world, the tenet of paganism, has a mystic ritual of "eating and drinking" the flesh and blood of Christ. For love, the person can be ate, based on this religion. In other cultures, the Iroquois and Fijians ate the flesh of their defeated enemies in order to absorb their power; for peoples of Papua New Guinea ate the heart or brains of their deceased elders to honour them; In medieval and modern European culture the practice of eating human was prevalent for religious or medicinal purposes. About medicinal purposes again, Chinese compounds included human organs as well as nails and hair, while, in early Greece, human blood was thought to treat epilepsy.

The Sons of Pindorama, Cannibalism in Brazil in 1557 as described by Hans Staden. Gravure de Théodore de Bry, 1562.

Cannibalism around the world

Dahmer was obviosly not the first criminal cannibal, names as Albert Fish, Issei Sagawa and Andrei Chikatilo are still remembered for their crimes and their cannibalism. As said before, the reason of cannibalism change based on the person and his deeds- the cannibal Armin Meiwes (aka Rotenburg Cannibal) ate 20 kilograms (44 lb) of human flesh of his victim, after that this last one agreed and wanted to be slaughtered, for sexual pleasure; Joachim Kroll (aka The Ruhr Cannibal) had a practical view and consumed his victims’ meat to save on his grocery bills, because meat was expensive. Albert Fish, on the other hand, eating the meat of the victims was like a trophy and liked to describe how the kids tasted to their parents.

Today, cannibalism among the population is rare, but still exists. Because of poverty, people living in Olinda slum are usual to consume human meat. Otherwise, there are tribes and cultures where cannibalism is still present. In Western New Guinea there’s a tribe called Korowai, whose tribesmen believe mysterious deaths are attributed to a demon, and their duty is to consume the dead’s meat in order to take revenge. In Fiji (previously named “Cannibal Island”) was famous for cannibalism, even if now this practice almost died out in the recent years. In India there’s a sect of Indian Monks called Aghori, whose few remaining members are used to drink from human skulls and cover their body in burnt human remains. There are also rumours of some cannibalism acts happened in The Democratic Republic of The Congo, Cambodia, Nuku Hiva and Liberia.

In animals cannibalism is common as well, mostly in invertebrates and fishes, but it occurs in other animal groups too. The filial cannibalism (usually when the young can’t last much because is sick, deformed or the mother can’t provide enough food, it becomes nutrient for the parent) is present in major species as leopards, African lions, Tonkean Macaques and fishes. The infanticide (males killing infants who aren’t theirs) is present in North American red squirrels, lions and chimpanzees. The matriphagy is when the mother is ate by the infants, another cannibalism form diffused within insects and arachnids. At last but not least, cannibalism can be diffused way earlier with eggs. The Burton’s Mouthbrooders carry their eggs in their mouths, and sometimes more than three-quarters eggs are been ingested. The female sharks instead, carry hundreds on eggs inside them, while they’re mating with multiple male sharks. Inside the womb, developing sharks will eat the unfertilised eggs and their siblings, leaving at the end only two unborn sharks, each one for each uterus.

(1) Tadpoles eating another tadpole, picture by Georgette Douwma, Nature Picture Gallery. (2) Korowai tribesmen, picture by Kristian Cabanis.

Sources: The Shrine of Jeffrey Dahmer; Grilling Dahmer; Monster: The True Story Of The Jeffrey Dahmer Murders; Britannica; Anthroencyclopedia; Jeffrey Dahmer trails on Court.tv; NBC; The Sun; National Geographic.

[clxckwork-sun-n-moon]

hey hi i've had this old forest gods thought and i need to bounce it off you bc. so the gods are Big and they roam the woods and especially moon is, given his habitat, likely to leave tracks - muddy earth and all that. so i cant help but imagine our dear photographer going out, perhaps looking for some scenic shots of the landscape, and finding giant ass tracks that do not belong to any creature they can identify. and they just stare. and behind them their friendly company in doll form just starts sweating. sun or moon or both together just having a squabble under their breaths about not revealing things too soon and definitely not scaring their best shot at winning their bet like this, meanwhile y/n is just trying to process whats in front of them and "huh, maybe those old legends about forest gods had some base in reality, but how much" and when they turn around to ask they get suspiciously innocent dolls doing his/their best to not let on they left those tracks you've drawn candid shots y/n took of their true forms but im just so curious about the transitional phase between "why are wooden dolls alive in this forest" and "ah yes my besties, sun and moon the forest gods, aka gremlin 1 and 2" and what hints y/n encountered hfdjsk

yeeeeaaaaa like. Sun has the upper hand (or foot) here because he can just will the forest to remove any trace of him left behind. people aren't finding the giant hoof-prints of his wanderings any time soon, unless he so wills it, and tbh he hasn't been in contact with humanity since the 1500s so it's very unlikely that he's willing it anytime soon (unless way way on in their relationship Y/N gives him big puppy eyes and says it'd make for a really cool photo). Eclipse also has an upper hand in that he can't leave tracks on the mountainside, and he only ventures close to town in doll form, so he's safe

Moon is permanently fucked, because even if he does put the effort into clearing his tracks, it's pretty clear something BIG just smeared a riverbank smooth (his tail). so it's probably not going to be uncommon for Y/N to be seeing a nice bank to take a photo of, only to see a reptilian hand print that's easily the size of their face in the mud. cue the "what the actual fuck is that" reaction

ironically, Sun is more likely than Moon to be frustrated/sweating over Y/N discovering the pair's nature too early. Moon is over on the edge of the forest with the smuggest aura behind his carved wooden grin as his brother is desperately trying to convince Y/N that it was probably a prank left behind by local kids to spook the newcomer in town.

the local townsfolk have long since gotten used to 'didn't see it' reactions to uncommon events, and will sometimes hide signs of the gods' presence themselves. stories take a long, long time to die off, and stories of the three gods still maintain enough respect to be acted on (and no-one wants too many out-of-towners coming in and making a fuss so if you saw something big in the river no the fuck you did not).

there are absolutely hidden-under-nonexistent breath squabbles that occur between Sun and Moon over Y/N finding out about their presence too fast - Sun doesn't want to scare them off too quickly, Moon thinks if they find out sooner rather than later then good for them, but more importantly Sun knows Moon doesn't care for hiding his trails so it's far more likely Y/N will connect the dots over Moon, at which point he's going to gain a lead in the 'game'. but Sun also thinks it's not good sport to reveal himself early just so he gets in before Moon, while Moon thinks it's stupid of Sun to go to so much effort in hiding himself when Y/N is clearly piecing things together about their 0 effort flower garden and perfect woodland walks whenever they go out with Sun.

at the end of the day, Y/N ends up discovering Sun first. the transition from 'weird funky dolls in the woods' to 'large gremlin besties' is a bit hazy, mostly because Y/N starts putting dots together with more research into the stories about the three gods without revealing the extent of their understanding to Sun and Moon (because those two get a bit strangely flustered whenever the three gods are mentioned). during all this research, they find a little ritual called 'Forgiveness of the Sun', and when they accidentally crush a flowering plant in their garden, they decide to go through with it. it's pretty much just bringing the dead plant into the woods and asking for the forest to forgive them for the accident, that it wasn't meant with bad intentions. and poor Sun gets so overwhelmed and excited that someone is doing one of his rituals for the first time in centuries, he comes rushing over and startles Y/N out of their shoes.

Moon cannot allow himself to be outshone so of course he takes the next available opportunity to reveal himself in the most dramatic and awe-inspiring way possible in his eyes (leaping over a bridge from the river to snap down on a thief and drag him back into the river).

Y/N is over here going through so many levels of "that was extremely intimidating to witness but I still feel safe in your company because I know you're my friend and wouldn't hurt me" leaving Sun and Moon both relieved that this didn't scare them away, but confused because surely it has to have done something to bring them closer. but they aren't feeling the romance blossoming.

they're gods, they're not smart.

[fionarara]

+ hipster ! kenma .

+ tw : one mention of a drug, cigarettes, slight cat slander, please this is a joke

+ hipster ! kenma . owns a hairless sphynx cat, because cutesy cats with fluffy fur are for plebs + hipster ! kenma . who shows up to a kickback party at kuroo’s place and upon discovering that the fridge is only stocked full of ultra-generic basic beer brands, decides he would rather drink the warm belgium-imported craft beer which has not yet been cooled, because dude would never be caught holding a shitty bud light in hand or drinking a white claw + hipster ! kenma . “knows the DJ” when you walk into this music venue with him, but in actuality, they only had a singular random encounter on the street during one of kenma's smoke breaks from his part-time job at a local arcade bar: this DJ guy just happened to be strolling by when he casually asked kenma if he could bum a cig off of him and come in real quick just to use the bathroom

+ hipster ! kenma . says, not only is it too expensive to touch up the roots of your hair so often with bleach, but it’s also way too high maintenance, and according to hipster kenma, high-maintenance = highly manufactured, super lame. clearly, presenting with two-toned slightly unkempt hair with a heroin-chic grunge look is some sort of torch one can hold about their own authentic individuality against the status quo...and how one is too cool to give a fuck, yeah + hipster ! kenma . who only rolls his own cigarettes, being the loose tobacco aficionado he is, and uses Bali Shag brand–exclusively. shows you how to roll it just right into a small narrowed cone shape that’s precise and comfortable enough to rest between your pretty fingers, demonstrating how to twist the tip’s end of the handmade cig in the most exquisitely cool way so that when you flame it up, it'll flash with a dazzling little light show right before you take a puff and inhaaale + hipster ! kenma . shows you his entire collection of vintage 8-bit video games, his faves are the few that are most rare and special edition versions where only a handful in the world were made (500 copies worldwide to be exact) + hipster ! kenma . will often wear high quality acetate-plastic glasses with thick-rimmed frames – non-prescription. boy has 20/20 vision and, more often than not, has his bicolored strands of hair hanging over his eyes, barely able to see from his own peripheral vision, so can someone please explain why the guy has thirteen different varying-style pairs of them? + hipster ! kenma . who is, duh, a self-proclaimed male feminist. he even has a cat onesie for his hairless sphynx kitty made of organic cotton with the words 'The Future is Female' printed on it. he makes sure to put the garment on his penisy-looking cat before going out on any first date in case he happens to score that night by getting to bring the date home

+ hipster ! kenma . buys and then wears a thrifted 90s D.A.R.E. T-shirt three days in a row, but later that weekend does cocaine off the cover of a vinyl record by The Stokes at this hole-in-the-wall dive bar while attending Yamamoto’s birthday party

+ hipster ! kenma . hates every mainstream video game, yet you’ll still catch him playing Pokémon GO on the DL when he thinks no one is looking because the nostalgia can’t be beat no matter how much his little alt-heart tries, plus deep down he refuses to quit until he’s at least caught the shiny versions of Jolteon and Umbreon

+ hipster ! kenma . has a nose piercing, with a vintage sterling-silver stud that comes with a whole intricate story and history behind it that he purchased at this obscure pawn shop out in the arts district of a super hip neighborhood he heard about + hipster ! kenma . whose newest pair of skinny jeans are so tight on him, they’ve begun to chafe the delicate skin of his thighs and a small rash developed as a result (despite hinata repeatedly mentioning they were probably a bit too snug), so he takes himself in for a yearly doctor’s visit for a simple topical cream prescription fix when his physician informs him they’d detected some curious results of a lower sperm count, asking kenma if for any reason he’d been doing anything as of late that would impact his testicles…oopsie

+ hipster ! kenma . whose favorite beanie is definitely in need of a wash soon, however he can’t just go ruining the ethically-sourced organic cashmere it's made of and risk ruining this special material + hipster ! kenma . would grow a “dope stubble beard” – if only he could, but alas – (and he would use the word, alas, whenever sharing this dilemma with anyone) alas, he—cannot. “...damn my damned genetics...”

+ hipster ! kenma . has not been to see or support a nekoma game as an alumni ever since he seriously started working (–biking to work, by the way, because ‘excess fossil fuels are whack’) in the tech world at this startup company of some trendy new game app…since being associated with any jock conduct anymore is the antithesis of his counter-culture lifestyle now

+ hipster ! kenma . believes heavily in the issue of gentrification in the new neighborhood he just relocated to, without realizing he is part of the problem + hipster ! kenma. has a snide opinion about eeeeverything …

 + hipster ! kenma . part 2 . ⇢ + link2masterlist . ⇢

[koko-doodle]

My Roommates from Atlantis

Prologue

A FNAF ☀️ & 🌙 Mermay AU

Ever wonder where mythical creatures originated from? How did they come about? Myths and legends had to come from somewhere, surely it wasn’t just people making up stories to occupy their time… right? Across cultures there are similarities between the mythical beasts that men encountered throughout history. Yes there are differences but the core traits remain the same. For example, dragons existed in Norse mythology as well as Asian legends, Greeks also had dragons that came in many shapes and forms. Such similarities between cultures, myths, and legends HAVE to have some truth to them. Surely some of the creatures that you imagined as a child were real, somewhere. At least that’s what you used to think a few months ago.

If someone told you that your little island tourist town off the coast of Athens was a refuge for sirens, would you have believed them? Probably not. There are many so called “sightings” of mermaids or sirens in the area but you had always chalked it up to just being a tourist attraction, ways to bring money in and hype the guided reef and ruin tours your island home is known for. You’ve done hundreds of dives and never seen any indication of intelligent human-fish hybrids, they are just myths… or rather WERE myths. Now you know better than to doubt the existence of any magical creatures that scientists declare were never real. They are real, they are very powerful, very dangerous, and really, really annoying sometimes.

What started out as photos for tourists grew into a hobby of yours, marine photography. Taking underwater photos of people doing lame peace signs while scuba diving around the reefs was dull and quite boring until you became fascinated with the buzzing life behind the people. The communities that the reefs hold and the many mysteries behind each fish, mammal, or crustacean captivate you every time. Though you’ve seen these reefs and ruins countless times, there is always something new to discover.

Life eventually gave you a break and you were able to afford your own small boat. Rickety and probably not the safest but it is yours nonetheless. You took it out often to go take photos of the marine life around your town, mostly for yourself but you do sell them to local shops as postcards, prints, or larger framed decor. After developing photos several months ago you began to notice a figure in the background. Large like a shark. Well hidden. Almost unnoticeable but definitely there once you found it. It wasn’t like any normal creature you had seen, at first you could never come up with a logical explanation. After spending all your savings on an underwater camera, hiding it, then recording clear footage of the creature did you devise a plan to get a closer look at it. That was your first mistake.

As the saying goes, curiosity killed the cat or in this case, the dumb human.

After several attempts you finally got the face to face introduction you wanted but you injured yourself in the process and nearly drowned. He still hasn’t let that one go either, teases you constantly for it. You had made friends with a siren that you didn’t think really existed, it was cool. You learned a lot from him, a lot about the society of reef life and some other oddities like a dolphin that had a crush on one of your coworkers. One thing lead to another and you found out your new friend had a brother, a brother who preferred the night over the day. That was one meeting you were NOT prepared for.

Kraken. Leviathan. Giant squid. Any of them would suffice but none are less terrifying and easy to greet without freezing with fear, especially when he’s a trickster and loves scaring you half to death any chance he gets. You tried not to ask questions when the siren (who is about the size of a great white shark) introduces the kraken (who is easily the size of two large fishing boats) as his beloved brother. Family is family you guess, even though it made no sense whatsoever. Now you had one siren best friend and one gigantic, mischievous urchin who loved annoying you.

Everything was great for a while, you got VIP tours of areas you’ve never been to, seen treasure from multiple eras, and learned how to be friends with one mean looking “pet” shark. Life was pretty good until you had the pleasure of meeting siren hunters. You didn’t know such people existed, let alone how extreme they were. They were willing to do whatever it took to capture sirens at the expense of nothing, not even trading human lives for information would stop them. Why they are so desperate to capture sirens is still a mystery, one you aren’t willing to dig to find the answer to. Unfortunately you learned the hard way that getting noticed by them usually leads to death and although your new friends saved you, the price for such a deed cost you your life as a normal human.

Yep. You’re officially a scaly sea dweller. Perfect.

Which now brings you to the predicament you are currently facing. Conveniently sirens (and krakens) can live on land for periods of time disguised as humans which is just great and totally what you needed. To make matters worse, you’ve discovered they are no ordinary fish people either, they are gods, THE gods. The rulers of the seas, creators of the mermaids and sea creatures of legend, Poseidon and Neptune. So now you have two “cousins” staying with you, sleeping in your living room, eating your food, spending your money, taking up what minimal space you have at your shack of a house all while trying to hide your secrets from the crazy, psychotic, siren hunters who want to skin you alive.

This is going to be one LONG summer….

[jjr1971]

My half-Japanese ex-girlfriend was the one who pointed out to me that the iconic Mobile Suit Gundam shares the same basic red white blue gold color scheme as Sailor Moon (Usagi Tsukino). In my limited experience with Gundam, the hero's Gundam always hews very close to this original, iconic design. My first Gundam series was Gundam Unicorn when it was streaming for free (with ads) on Sunrise's YouTube channel. It was even on Netflix for a time. No longer and it is of course out of print on physical media. I don't recommend it as a first Gundam show. Probably the best would be the original 1979 Gundam with the Canadian dub currently streaming on Crunchyroll. My first real Gundam series that I watched from start to finish was Mobile Suit Gundam: the Witch From Mercury, which I thoroughly enjoyed. I had watched some MSG: Iron Blooded Orphans here and there but never stuck with it. I just finished Gundam Seed some time ago and enjoyed it and also the 3rd compilation movie of the OG Gundam franchise, Mobile Suit Gundam III: Encounters in Space from 1982 which I saw subbed at my local AMC theater. I went back and am currently watching original Gundam on Crunchyroll with the Canadian dub as well as Gundam Wing, also with a Canadian dub. I also binged the short CGI series Gundam: Requiem for Vengeance, which is 6 episodes long and looks photo-realistic, like a videogame cut scene....it's a little uncanny valley but you get used to it. Since it's told from the perspective of the Zeon forces, it plays out like a horror movie, with the iconic Mobile Suit Gundam suddenly showing up and cutting them down, stalking and killing them relentlessly and looking cool AF doing it. The Zeon Zaku units look really cool, how they might look in real life or in a movie like Pacific Rim. The identity of the Gundam pilot is not revealed until the very end and it is every bit as heartbreaking & tragic as you can imagine. I'm still not a hardcore Gundam fan and I'm not interested in Gunpla, but I'm enjoying slowly getting more immersed in the Gundam franchise in my own way. I'm watching Mobile Suit Gundam Seed and Gundam See Destiny because I really really like Hisashi Hirai's character designs, his distinctive style that is consistent across different anime properties. His characters look especially innocent and appealing, puppy-dog eyes, etc. I'm enjoying original Gundam as well as Gundam Wing but for now I'm focusing on finishing Gundam Seed Destiny before I finish Gundam Wing and original Gundam.

[transman-badass]

Okay here's what I've got for this Southern Gothic idea

@cljordan-imperium @words-after-midnight @

this is going to be one of my darker stories so under the cut it goes.

The story involves a transman historian returning to the town one of his ancestors founded in Alabama. It's not for pleasure - he has no fond feelings towards the South - but rather he's following up on a theory of his. During the Civil War and Reconstruction period there was a female abolitionist who wrote under the name Mary Tuesday. She was a widow, or spinster, in her 30s, who dedicated her life to the cause, and to charity, and was extremely well-liked by those around her. As the story goes, Tuesday went down to Alabama after the Civil War to help with Reconstruction efforts, but her group was attacked by ex-confederate bandits. The supplies were stolen, the men were killed, and Tuesday taken, along with any other women, presumably to a brutal end. But the historian has a theory, one that's gaining popularity among his peers - Mary Tuesday might have been an early transman, living a double life as a man unknown to most. And the protagonist suspects Tuesday might have survived and escaped the attack.

So down the protagonist goes to the south, to face off the ghosts of the past - his own included. Most people don't recognize him, he transitioned after he left. The class divide, between his lower middle class/working poor upbringing and the world of the upper middle and higher, is immediately on display. He's allowed to stay in a former plantation outside of the city, which he has mixed feelings about. The plantation was the home of the man who legend says led the attack against Tuesday, a man so infamously cruel, even years later, when the town put up statues of quote unquote 'southern heroes', they refused to honor him. They say the only person he loved was his wife Dolly.

And sure, they say the plantation is haunted. Sure the town has some spooky tales, most well known to the protagonist being the local boogeyman figure [that I haven't named yet]. But the ghosts they say still walk the streets and houses turn out to be very different from the ghosts the protagonists actually encounters.

This story is partially a vent. I've lived in the south my whole life. I'm not a fan. All the bad things are true, and all the good things seem locked behind a paywall. And the bigotry is getting worse, at least, that's how it feels in this small town I live in. It's all Jesus, no love. Though I will say, I have never, in all my 30+ years, heard 'bless your heart' used as an insult. Last time I heard it, the full sentence was 'bless her heart, she's so deaf she can't understand me on the phone', said with a smile and small shake of the head.

Another thing that inspired this story was how many damn stories written before the millennium romanticized the south and the confederacy. I was looking through books that are probably long out of print and just boggling at them. The past really is a foreign country.

Other inspirations include Ghostland - highly recommend that book.

I aim to have a reasonably diverse cast, just like the south I've known my whole life. Don't plan to have any romance right now. There isn't really an external goal here. I don't know who's gonna read this, and when I first thought of the idea, I joked that I'd be cancelled for it. I'm writing this story for me, I think, more than some of the rest I've worked on. But if you like this idea, you're welcome to join me.

[fantasyfantasygames]

From The Mist

From The Mist, Wending Way Games, 2010

In the game From The Mist (FTM) you play a lost soul finding their way back into the world. You are literally a soul, an ephemeral piece of a person. The person themselves is gone. It's never clear whether you actually died - some people think you did, some are positive that you just ran away to start a new life elsewhere.

Your character starts as a series of connections - "threads" that draw you back to specific people. Chargen is a group activity. You all have ten threads to assign, 6 "minor" and 4 "major", which is a lot. However, 3 of your major and 4 of your minor are required to be shared with other PCs, and everyone in the group has 2 major and 2 minor in common. One of the default suggested setups is that you're a friend group, and I think a lot of folks will go with that, but I also really like the "friends of friends of friends" approach where you don't really know each other except through all these living people.

Your goal is to return as a whole person. Each time you resolve a thread, you get a piece of yourself back, and with it, some game stats. FTM's approach to resolving threads depends on your anchor as much as it does on you. Early on you'll just be appearing in dreams, encountering one another and having conversations in the sleeping minds of people you know. (I can only imagine they wake up confused.) After your first thread resolves, you obtain a faint voice, light breeze, or ghostly form. Slowly you pick up a more whole appearance, a real voice, and the ability to manipulate objects. The last thing you lose is your ability to appear in dreams, at which point you are restored to the world.

One thing I find appropriate is that you can "fail" but still close things out - you don't need to resolve the thread well. It's about giving mini-stories an end rather than righting wrongs.

The art is kind of unfortunate. It's low-quality Poser work, and while it works to create an eerie look in the early game, it doesn't even quite make it down into the uncanny valley when depicting late-game characters. I would rather have seen some charcoal drawings. Hell, I'd take photomanipulation over this, and I'm not a huge fan of photomanip. It doesn't give one a sense of setting, but that part seems reasonable to me - there's nothing weird going on in this setting but you.

The system is fairly middle-of-the-road. It's a d100 roll-under system with Price Is Right rules. You have a Body score that is also your hit points, not that taking damage does anything but fuzz you out for a night at worst. You also have a Heart score and a Mind score, used for things like keeping your courage and tracking down old acquaintances. I think there's a bit of Unknown Armies DNA at work, because while there are no skills you do get certain areas where you can flip-flop your dice rolls, turning a 62 into a 26 if it would help. There are no social stats or skills, and that's called out as intentional in one of the sidebars. It's the game's "fruitful void" - the entire point of the game is social connection, and giving it mechanics would trivialize it. Overall it fits ok.

I love the concept of this game. It really deserves a reboot with better art. I can definitely see playing it with a different system - a Cortex knockoff, maybe.

FTM is out of print. It was a British game, so if you live in the UK check out the local game store if they still have a "used" section.

[helloescapist]

To See His Smile

Word Count: 5,598

Setting: slow burn oneshot, Amajki x GN!reader; SFW

Content Warning(s): none

Summary: From your first encounter with the seemingly stoic hero, Suneater to the aloof senpai of The Big 3, and all of the pieces in between, you adored the many sides of Amajiki Tamaki, but what you loved most of all was the smile he rarely shared.

[Not my art, credit goes to the artist!]

There were so many sides to him, more than just the stoic emerging hero the public knew and adored. More the embodiment of anxiety and social recluse U.A. students were familiar with. There were so many sides to him, layers wrapped delicately and protectively like a rosebud who dared not yet blossom. The first glimpse beneath the surface was enough to have you hooked, not that you had ever intended to meet that fated day.

The train set for the Kansai region bustled with energy having departed on a school excursion. The optimistic chatter amongst classmates. Assigned groups knitted closely together. Some compared brochure notes, dedicated themselves to sight-seeing, the thrill of exploring neighboring temples and aging castles claiming their attention; others simply swapped treats amongst themselves pocky for senbei, health snacks packed by doting parents lost amongst the bargaining, all too willing to subject themselves to a wayward tour. Although based off of the composed members, it was likely their bellies would be their guide. While one group discussed desired activities, hearts poured into escaping to the shopping districts and local fashions, another could be heard just as eagerly plotting buoyant romantic rendezvous, daring to sneak into co-ed hotel rooms. The distant views of sakura trees passing them by, Mount Yoshino’s beauty left astray. Gentle waves of white and pink blossoms framed against a sky outline before the inevitable drawing of the destined station. Your own group partners adored in their perspective uniform, having chattered away as you watched the flowers disappear from view. Of all the things you had considered would happen that day, hanging off the side of a building was not in mind.

                The arrival was swift and full of excitement to the prospect of independence. Quick to disburse luggage at the school-selected onsen, not having bothered to change out of uniforms, and barely having the time to snug a scarf around your neck to protect from the chill the region offered before your group ushered you forward. Your heart practically humming in your eardrums, beyond excited at the prospect of visiting the sky gardens in person. From the shopping opportunities, restaurants, cafes, adorable mascots, and so much more, you were thrilled at the opportunity to immerse yourself in the botanical gardens, and be swept away of the composition of traditional Japanese flora, the even more tempting opportunities to interact with rare species accumulated from other countries, alluring for someone of your particular quirk. And the very reason you had crossed your fingers, prayed to every shrine and every God you could surmise, hinted at your group peers in the hope that they would consider it a stopping place for your voyage—your opportunity mostly provided by Yuki’s enthusiasm for pudding peeked at the mention of a famous café that was hosted by the botanical garden. The hearts were practically shined in her eyes as her hands clasped your own tightly, yanking you forward impatiently and excitedly. Her sunshine yellow hair printed with orange pats, her grin brighter than the sun, and the red plaid of her skirt ruffled as she urged you to run, tossing all decorum to the side. Behind you, the opposite to her energy were your companions, Aoi being pushed forward. Uneasy, murmuring about heights, and Mizuki’s hands pressed firmly across his shoulders as he urged him forward, half bothered to share words of reassurance but not dedicated enough to hide their exhaustion from the train. Your group parting upon the entry of the premise. Yuki pudding bound, her gusto radiating causing her tail to tap eagerly against the ground. Aoi tucked closely behind her, doing his best to remind her of her manners much like a motherly hen. Mizuki having found a fondness for the building’s mascot, and you slipped off to the gardens.

                And it was worth it. So very worth it. The gardens were nothing short of breathtaking. Tiers of gardens coordinated and widespread amongst the indoor radius. Its extensive variety flora captivating viewers. Waves of colors, symphony of scents. The occasional delicate floral notes orchestrated from roses, a tropical hint from palms, spicy white dianthus caryophyllus, and citrus notes from lemon balm. The calming effects of nature at your beck and call, and the colors that graced the sites. Reds derived from ginger plants and celosia. Oranges tinted from fruit bearing trees, kalanchoe thrysiflora, and yellows painted with devil’s tongues, and marigolds. Greens gifted from various ivy types, and dusty hues from barberry, agave, and even Chinese Jujube. Blues of many varieties ranging from lavenders to hydrangeas, and then there were the purples. Mystical wisteria, magical foxglove, and masquerading nightshade. Peaceful, and opportunities you could ever dream of, as you breathed in the warmth. Acknowledged the passing by of viewers. Groups of students that frocked pass you, whispers of romantic proposals, lovers that dared to sneak kisses from prying eyes, and even families on an outing. The only real question was, were to start. Hours poured over studying the brochure and information pamphlets, there were so many wonderful beginnings, opportunities to dive into study. But where? Where? There. Perfuming the air as you inspected petal after petal, delicate to the plant as you leaned over on bent knees, tucking your heart intentionally behind your ear as your lashes grazed your cheeks. The current specimen at your fingertips, dracaena. Careful to avoid any pricks as you inspected its pores, examined soil textures, and took notes on its surrounding, and potential uses. How difficult it would be to manifest this particular plant, and how tasking it might be on your stamina, body, and potential side-affects it may have on the environment, targets, or even yourself. Biting your lips, you were too absorbed in the specimen to notice your surroundings. The rush of students and onlookers peering from windows. Distant noise of explosions that lightly vibrated the spikes upon the Dracaena causing you to glance up, but for later than you would like to admit. Intrigue had turned to terror, people fled from the windows, the shattering of glass, and crumbling of walkways beneath your feet. Stationed at the edge of the sky botanical, visitors flooded the exits, and your heart thrummed in your ears. Eyes locked on the busied exit. A familiar pump of adrenaline in your muscles, but the distant ebb of a wail tore your gaze from escape.

                A little girl dressed in overalls that hung loosely on her shoulders, hung desperately to the ground. Her fingers giving out beneath her as the building swayed with some unseen collision. Her eyes wide as tears rolled from her cheeks. Trembling as she screamed for her guardian, but amongst the growing tragedy, her voice was lost amongst the crumbling rubble. A bite of your lip, and quick calculations in your thoughts as you scanned every flora in your immediate knowledge before devising a half hazard plan drawn from necessity. Drawing yourself forward, you stretched your hands out, manifesting the strength of Chocolate Vines, its scent carried on the smoke as you wound it around a steel beam, the end coiled snug against your wrist as you dived for the child.

                Nope. Of all the possibilities the day offered, it had never occurred to you that you would be hanging from the side of a building, snagged against the side of the building with scratches marring your flesh. Shattered glass and crumbling concrete, and a child secured tightly at your side. Her sobs echoing your ear drums as she buried her nose into the flesh of your ribs. Given the circumstances, what with the life-threatening consequences one wrong move could provide, you hadn’t suspected that of all the whispers of romantic endeavors your classmates had dreamed of would star you. You.

                His mask, adorned in gold trim across his brow pass the bridge of his nose. Indigo tinted, his temple drawn, eyes squinted, and tentacles??? While the information is relatively unsurprising looking back on that fateful day, at the time, it was the quite the shock as he hoisted the combined weight of the child and you towards him before snagging onto your torso. Your vines beginning to wilt and snag, growing weak stressed from the demands. Around you, the building was unstable, the child anxious and trembling, and the boy who held you snug against his gaze followed a distant fight tumble about as he navigated his way to the ground. He seemed sure-footed, his bare feet delicate and adept at mobilizing his body in the quivering structure. It was in that time you etched his figure into your memory. The tips of his ears flushed against the changing winds. Hair the color of fresh blueberries, bangs that hung over baptisia australis eyes that threatened the shade of blue wild indigo blossoms as they refused to meet your own. Focused on the security and the safety of his passengers. What a cute misconception that was—the poor boy was horrified. His stomach had been in the pits, trembling at the close proximity to you, didn’t dare face the humiliation, and even worse, the situation and maneuvering had left him with little choice in positions to support your weight. He didn’t dare meet your eye, too stuck on calculating whether he should adjust his hold and risk dropping the child and you, or risk you believing that he, Suneater was a degenerate that had grasp on your chest, and the inevitable, deserved slap that would accompany it. What would Fat Gum do?

That had been the first of many encounters, and your first glimpse at the man behind the mask, adorned by the alias Suneater. Your initial introduction has been surprising; it wasn’t every day you get flung from a building, and are rescued by a cute elven boy. Let alone one so stoic. You hadn’t missed the gentle glimpse he had given you at the time, as you drew forth a small flower crown for the little one as you awaited the return of her guardians. The sight of its petals giving her a smile as you did your best to manifest other floral distractions. The gentle peek before tugging on his hood, shielding his face, and capturing your heart, but the second layer, the one that you tucked dearly to your heart was as much of a chanced opportunity as your introduction, and a rarity that you suspected only Togata Mirio.

The entrance exam for U.A. was… a lot. It was exhausting. Rounds of machinery hell bent on crushing you and your competitors. If the grueling exam wasn’t one thing, the practical was another. The point system had drawn out the fierce drive in everyone, not to mention the freak situation with that one kid with green hair—what on earth was that? The mere thought of it bore out a sigh from you as you drew yourself outside, searching out a water source and sunshine. Anything to recharge your battery. After all, the number of vines and ivies you had utilized to catapult yourself into the air, and how many rows of thorns you had weaponized itself—you honestly couldn’t count, but were well aware of the drain your body had endured. Your bones ached, and you felt fatigued as you stretched under the shade of a nearby tree, giving yourself a moment before preparing to drag yourself home. Sweat clung to your brow as you breathed in the soft day’s air, languidly wiping it away. You could feel the way your seat suit had clung to your form, not having considered how cutesy they appeared with the cat figure, and the other applicants hadn’t considered you a competent candidate, and admittedly, you felt a little embarrassed by the cat ears that adorned the hoodie, your cheeks burning at the thought. But how could you refuse to wear it? It had purchased with love, a symbol of good luck from your family, and sort of all the more reason why you had chosen a secluded area to cool off before the trek home.

                “Ahhh, that was GREAT!” A booming voice cheered. Deep and enthusiastic, stretched out over taunt muscles, and a wide smile far bigger than the sky above, and bright hair that dared to reach the clouds. Round eyes that squinted and heavily patted the back of his comrade as he heaved marked boxes for the U.A. faculty, “reminds me of our entrance exam! And that one kid! Man, the new first year class is going to be amazing. Don’t you think?”

                “There-there’s so many of them,” a weak voice mumbled. Struggling unlike his counterpart, standing shorter as well, the delicate boy had been roped into assisting the staff amongst the U.A. entrance. A doing of his friend’s own enthusiasm, who had often enjoyed watching the entrance exam, but this time, he had insisted, or rather dragged the timid boy. Volunteered him as well, and in doing so, exposed him to the upcoming class, and another reason to fret over his own capabilities. His soft complexion complicated as he gazed down at the contents of his luggage.

                A girl playfully responding to the blonde’s statement as she pushed forward, the smile on her face evident and humming. Her periwinkle blue hair long and buoyant. What she said, you hadn’t heard, and became increasingly realized that they were not aware of your existence. Their comradery drawing your attention as you watched both the bright boy, and beautiful girl speak to one another, heaving supplies towards the distance, and the boy strayed, dragging behind languidly. His movements stiff, full of worry. His face revealing his unease as his brow wrinkled. His thoughts claiming his attention, causing a thrum of chill down his spine and gloom over head. The stark difference from the hero who had rescued you. A complicated look etched across his features, his bangs looming over his face and high cheek bones. “I-I just want to go home,” he whispered.

                Adorned in the shade of the tree, you could make out the tense way he carried himself. Aware that his companions had led the way, perhaps unintentionally leaving him behind, or perhaps giving him a moment to breathe. You weren’t entirely sure, but having witnessed to his distress. You found yourself standing, considering whether or not to check in on him, you mean… was he okay? His eyes drawing swiftly up, wide. You could feel your heart slam into your throat, your stomach occupied in the place in which it used to rest as it threatened back flips. Shuffling you backwards, seeking further shade to hide as though you had done something so indecent as spying. Y-you could explain. It wasn’t that you were intentionally spying! You were here first! You were? Right? Yeah, of course, it was a simple explanation, and then when the group had passed you by, you didn’t want to be rude--- oh no, you were spying. Practically snooping, and preparing to apologize, and bend yourself down so far as to touch your knees with your own forehead. Forgiveness. You needed forgiveness, but would he give it? Oh no, no, no one wants to be seen at such a low, but it was the soft hum that caught you off guard. Encouraged you to stay tucked against the tree that offered a shield from sight. “ah, but Mirio asked this of me…. I should- I should do it.” His smile was as soft as his voice. Tender as the look in his eyes that traced the fluttering of wings. Its delicate hues danced playfully near him as if greeting his grace, and enjoying his equally pleasant aura. A pailo demetrius butterflied that dared to skim the ends of his hair, testing its landing spot. Undoubtedly having confused him for a wild flower, his hair having deceived the butterfly, or rather welcomed its attention. Not that the butterfly seemed to mind, greeted with a smile, nor did your rescuer. The most delicate smile creased his lips, met his soft eyes as he resolved himself to the task. “Thank you,” he whispered warmly to the butterfly before following after his companions. The setting of the sun basking in his soft glow.

Spying wasn’t right, and in part, maybe you had blossomed a questionable pass time hobby, but for all the luck in the world, you had witnessed something rare, unfathomably valuable, and equally breakable, and you would do everything in your power to witness it, if only for one more time.

The third time your paths had crossed was more conventional, orchestrated by Aizawa-sensei, and the first time you had officially heard his name, his true name rather than the one he had dubbed as a hero. It had been the demonstration provided by The Big 3, although it wasn’t intended to be so. It was simply supposed to be an explanation of the Hero Work-Studies that had escalated further than intended.

The class had been a murmur of excitement, curiousity, and drive. There were those who were star struck, like Midoriya, who was drawn into his own world, composed of strategy break down, quirk application, and overall… fanboyism. Others such as Bakugo and Kirishima were eager to hear about the opportunities the program offered, the prior setting himself bars above and eagerness, and confidence. Then, there were the skeptical, the ones with questions and considerations such as Asui and Tokoyami. The range of the classroom was wide, and diverse, each hero-to-be hanging on every word, and every action of The Big 3, and then there was you. Your eyes landed on him, the one dubbed the alias, Suneater, and introduced as Amajiki Tamaki. Just like that fated day, his eyes strayed. Shook underneath the gaze of others, quivered uneasily. His frown growing, and the quiet mumblings that from your seat, seemed incomprehensible. The soft of his skin revealing his anxiety, and trembles as he inevitably turned his back to the class once more. Miserable, and out of place, it was a side of him that U.A. as a whole had grown accustomed to, and perhaps familiarized themselves with, but the transition of anxiety to the sheer acknowledgement of his companion, Togata-senpai. The amount of pride in someone else’s accomplishments, and joy of the memories he shared to the class. Perhaps, it was the real him, a complex mixture of anxiety and pride in friends, and yet, it was that gentle smile of that fateful day that would not leave your heart, and whispered the reality to you. You were determined to see every side of Amajiki-senpai that you could.

And there it was, the mission. The determination and the drive to capture that smile once more, just to witness it again. You had left the Hero-Work program explanation with admittedly two goals in mind: the first to be accepted by a Hero, and the second… to see Amajiki-senpai’s smile once more! Lucky for you, this goal was thankfully intertwined in execution in skills.

The hours you subjected yourself to studying, poured yourself over tomes. Thumbed your fingers across spirals, exhausted your eyes into the late nights. Accidentally falling asleep at your desk. Worrying your family in more ways than you dared to admit, and missed out on a number of opportunities to engage in extra-curricular activities. The days felt almost like a blur of coursework, class hours and week days spent pouring yourself amongst the pages of botany pages. U.A.’s library offered so much valuable information, but your quirk required work. Knowledge, practice, and practical application… To be honest, going about blindly and testing out plant after flora, after specimen, and cacti would wreak havoc across Japan, and give rise to invasive species, that you suspected would endanger your potential hero licensure. Something you longed to avoid at all costs, after goal all, the first goal was to achieve a Hero-Work study, but that didn’t mean that you would be thorough in your investigation. After all, that’s what the practice fields were for, right? Principal Nezu, please forgive you for any future transposing’s your practice may inflict on the U.A. gardens. Thus, the library hadn’t been enough, drawing information from various internet sources, and on the weekends, daring yourself to outings dedicated to your research. Garden visit after garden visit, touring nursery after nursery, you were dedicated, and in time, your first goal had been achieved, but it wasn’t what you had hoped for. It wasn’t what any of you had hoped for.

It should have brought you joy, a sense of pride and recognition in your skills, and to some extent, it did. At least, initially. To have been selected for the Hero-Work program and to have been placed under Kesagiri Man’s care was one that desired praise, and an extra serving of tonkatsu at dinner. How you had beamed in your hero uniform, specially tailored to your form. Leaves that gathered and crawled up right your right leg, blossoming to cover your form naturally before trailing around your left shoulder until coiling at your wrist. Admittedly, to the few, it bordered risky, but remained modest. The intricately delicate head mask that had curved to the shape of your brow, slipping behind your ears into your hair as though fitted for royalty gave you the impression of having slipped from the pages of a fairytale, and how you had painstakingly thumbed through names, landing on the trial run of Danu. In addition to the praise, well, you really had felt excited for the weeks to come. After all, to have garnered a Pro-Hero’s attention wasn’t something to be easily dismissed, it was quite the accomplishment as well as noteworthy key point on any resume, and when it had been decided you would play a role in the Shie Hassaikai Raid, you were beaming at the opportunity to work alongside pro-heroes, and even better… the opportunity to see Amajiki-senpai adorn the alias Suneater. You were practically beam like a sunflower in summer, so much so you had even accidentally blossomed Indigoletta rose buds, rich in lavender petals and devoid of thorns, but now, all of that joy was nullified. The creeping sensation that crept up your neck, raised the hair on your forearms as fumes filled the air. The sound of rubble, and stone clashed in a chaos of elements. Gunfire that radiated amongst the surrounding area, breaths of wind and smoke. The stray attacks that grazed pass you. The numbing realization of how serious, and out of hand the situation had become. What had been a strategic plan, with intention and a clear route: those infiltrating had faced far dangerous circumstances than expected while you were left on the side lines. Charged with defending the injured, and supply those in need of immediate medical assistance—how you had stayed up hours expanding your knowledge into medical herbs. Rosemary, lavender, cloves, ginger, dandelion, eucalyptus—you named It, you had mentally filed it away, practiced manifesting it in your home (your home would smell of herbs and spices for months to come, not that your family had hinted any frustration, even going so far as to add leftovers in recent dishes). All the anticipation, and all captivated feelings of accomplishment had been diminished like a flame left in the rain as your fingers hesitantly traced his cheek, far paler than normal. How had this happened? The heroes…. You had pro-heroes. How had it become the Hassaikai Incident? Strained features, taunt lips that pursed and winced. The faintest of groan carried on dwindled sharp breaths, and eyelashes clasped between squeezed eye lids. A feeble warmth beginning to blossom across his features, as the color drained from his blanched complexion. Evidence littered across his cloak, carved into his features. His quirk beginning to mollify, octopus tentacles withdrawing, chicken feet and wings extracted, and the oddest traces of gemstones. Blood that stained, and rubble that threatened open wounds. The trembling in your fingertips undeniable as anxiety thrummed through your body, panicked heart beats that claimed your ear drums, and dulled your senses and response time. All you had wanted was to see him smile.

                The recovery had been better than expected, although truth be told, it was perhaps the anxiety that had convinced you it was worse than it truly was. You couldn’t bring yourself to admit how many trips you had made to the local hospital, peaking in on his progress. This is where you had witnessed, yet another side of the elven hero. The soft humility was commendable. The way he expressed concern for others involved in the incident from the loss of a mentor, inquired about Togata-senpa’s condition, and even yours—how that had sent your heart into fits. The sweet care for others, shifting attention to those who he deemed worthy even if it was at the cost of his own care—the way the tips of his ears would blush upon being fretted over by his attendant. The tender gazes out of the window when he achieved a moment, free of further probing. It was enough to elicit a soft sigh from you, and a bubbling of melancholy. Spying, when had you become such a snoop? You promise your parents hadn’t raised you this way, and imagined your siblings would chastise you if they had known, but for all the stolen glimpses between the hospital door, the shuffle of the occasional nurse, and even Recovery Girl’s reassurance that he was certainly recuperating just fine, and even awkwardly dodged your elder’s insistence that while he was a cumbersome boy, he wouldn’t reject a visit from a companion. Yet, you could never bring yourself to knock, merely leaving random visitation flowers with the nurse in the charge of him for the day, sputtering out some clumsy excuse to leave without greeting him. The last visit having been total humiliation that had you buried in your pillow. You really hadn’t mean to escalate from mere snoop to pervert. The adrenaline of the nurse having rejected your delivery request under Recovery Girl’s insistence you were amped up! You could do it! You could! Until the door popped open, the distinct giggle of Hado-senpai emitting from the room, and thin muscles that impacted your face. Your rush having dragged you straight into his chest, to both of your horror. “She-she didn’t see me,” he had stammered, yanking his bandaged form against the door frame, resting his forehead against it, and shielding his features. Failure. Complete and total failure, and even worse. Contact. The flowers in your hands smooshed against you. Hado-senpai’s periwinkle curls caught in the air, practically thrumming with the electric current personality radiated. Her bags practically bouncing with her, as her delicate blue topaz eyes found the bouquet caught in your fingers, a presumptuous grin spreading as she attempted to draw Amajiki-senpai’s attention. You noped out of there as fast as your legs could carry you, pushing the floral arrangement into her hands before disbursing down the hall, eliciting knowing giggles from medical staff.

Upon hearing that Amajiki-senpai had decided that the laughter was directed at him specifically, you had determined to keep your distance for the time being. Well, at least until the shame had dissipated. In that absence, you struggled, and remained vigilant. You really, just wanted to see his smile again, and while Vermilion’s had survived the onslaught despite the odds, Suneater’s had practically been banished into the shadows. More late hours dedicated over books, anything to see that captivating smile resurface. The determination to have that very same smile directed your way having taken root at the school festival.

Class 1-A had found themselves determine to win over the student body while the beauty pageant fostered growing tensions amongst competitors. The ever-boiling tension between Hado-senpai and Kenranzaki-senpai had ushered in wave after wave of stomach aches on your behalf. Having been allocated a sewing position in the costume creation for 1-A’s performance, you had definitely developed a whole new appreciation for the hero uniform department, and received a few private requests as well. That’s how you saw it, the growing crushing realization that if you didn’t land every stitch on Kenranzaki-senpai’s gown with a dedicated level that reached her expectations, you suspected you would be receiving end of her tank, or much worse given her talent as a member of U.A.’s Department of Support. The terror sending you reeling as you sat to the side, panicked, rushed, and wary of every scuffle between the two upper classmen. In this time frame, you had bore witness to a gentle reassurance. The warmth Amajiki-senpai in attempting to consul his friend’s feelings, and on the day of the pageant, as you wearily mended a snag on Kenranzaki-senpai’s dress (seriously though, a tank? In a DRESS?), there he was, front and center. Braving the crowd. A fond smile that graced his lips, one so warm you suspected it could thaw even the coldest winter day, perhaps could even still the ever-driven Kenzranzaki-senpai. Imagine, all of the students who had gathered, pressed against the stage in anticipation to see beauty. Blissfully unaware that a true vision of enchantment was not Hado-senpai that twirled in the air, but her supporter, Amajiki-senpai squished amongst viewers, happy to see her achieve her goal.

The burning desire to have that smile, that mythical smile directed your way had led you here. Fingers covered in dirt; the soil wedged between your nails. Your hands delicately cupping the earth between your digits. All the hours of being Hatsume Mei’s test subject had come to bare fruits, and to the gods above, it had been trying. How Midoriya had endured her assertive personality, and well, risky decision-making skills were beyond you—you suspected it would be weeks before all of your bruises and scrapes healed, but here it was. The full soil report across the school grounds, targeted to more secluded areas. Each region mapped consistently. Hatsume may be a bit fanatical in her own unique way, but she was extremely thorough. Your smile expanding as you examined your surroundings. From Hatsume’s report, you were able to determine the soil type was a match, from the drainage needs, the pH balance, and even the sun exposure. “it’s perfect,” you whispered to yourself as you yanked out your water bottle, chugging it as quickly as you could before threading your hands deeper into the ground, making sure to clear the topsoil. “I can do this.” With closed, tight eyes, you dedicated your all to envisioning the roots strong and sturdy. Its shrub structure encompassing the area, healthy, dark green leaves, and felted form. Lance like stems that gave way to various shades of purple, deep violets, and light and delicate lilac. Grow. Grow. Grooooow. Spreading across the opening, tucked away on U.A. grounds were only students who wished to have a moment alone would wander, out of sight, and out of mind. The perfect escape. Murmuring praise to encourage its growth, after all, everything grows with kindness. Its blooms reaching towards the sky, enjoying the high sky, and stretching slowly, but surely before maturing at ten feet tall, wide spread and the heavenly sweet scent of honey beckoning the environment. Your grin spread, a soft shade of scarlet spread across cheeks.

You had done it. Buddleja japonica. A native variety of butterfly bush. The delicate flutter of wings, emerging colors drawn from all surrounding areas, enticed by the promise of nectar. Exhaustion weaved on your features, and admittedly, you knew that latter, you would need to provide another round of foliage to entice the butterflies to remain, but for now, you could only bask in the scenic view of your makeshift butterfly garden, and approaching figure. Thin, and taller than yourself, long fingers that grasped the note you had slid into his genkan cubby at school, the telling shade of the envelope and cute sticker you had attached. The surprise on his face, admittedly because he had steeled himself to facing a challenge head-on, some part of him believing someone hated him enough to call him out to a secluded area of the school—not that anything in the note had suggested as such, although you had to confess that the vague request to meet you here regardless of the daring heart addition may have sent the wrong impression, and had the poor boy reeling into a variety of panic attacks before he had worked up the nerve to appear.

His deep-set amethyst hair catching the glimmer of sunlight, his eyes deeper than the sweetest Murasaki tart now wide as the glow of a blush spread from the tips of his ears, danced across his cheeks, and landed on the tip of his nose. His mouth opening in wonder, and awe as the butterflies danced across flower petals. The occasional one straying to greet his arrival before his eyes found you, knelt on the ground. The exhaustion as evident as the dirt that marred your hands with the level of dedication your quirk and feelings had nurtured, your hair falling just right in the iridescent of the day creating the faintest of halo glows. The coy expression you bared, gazing ever so affectionately at… him? The realization causing his form to shake and him to advert his eyes, the blossoming of warmth in his heart and smile that threatened to break. His wrist drawn up to hide himself from view. Doing the best to conceal the growing blush that had claimed his delicate features, his almond eyes widened as they traced your silhouette. “B-beautiful,” whispered shyly across the flutter of a butterfly’s wings.

[andmaybegayer]

Last Monday of the Week 2023-11-13

Snack time

Listening: Recommendation from The Friends after movie night, Czech Cultural Anthropologist and Weird Synth Guy Ventolín. This song is MHD, an ode to the public transport network.

It kicks ass and I will brook no argument.

Reading: I finally reestablished my RSS reader and got digging into Tons Of Bullshit I have not been reading for a long time. It also makes me much more eager to explore new blogs since I can add them to a collection, one of which was Soatok's bias-affirming (for me who has used ed25519 for years now) rundown of elliptic curve cryptographic algorithms.

Yes boss I assure you I'm looking at this blog of a blue anthro dhole for work reasons. A customer asked for guidance on key replacement.

Watching: Troll 2, at Bad Movie Night with the friends. A very well put together movie held back by not being a very good movie. A lot of fun to watch.

Really solid makeup work going on in this movie. The troll queen's actor is really having a great time playing a sexy evil goth character.

Playing: Getting back into In Other Waters. I was starting to tear through the story a little and was like "huh I should go check out this rock outcropping" and stumbled onto an entirely new ecosystem that I had not encountered before and ended up bringing back a full load of samples to analyze.

The game does a really great job of explaining the surface appearance of the ecosystem while leaving some of the deeper interactions as speculation, that makes it feel a lot like reading actual research literature about ecosystems. Even when you've filled out the folio on a species you've only just scratched the surface of why it is the way it is, you've fully described its behaviours but that's not near complete.

Making: Diwali over the weekend, so lots of confections. Making a lot of these start to finish for the first time, since I'd usually be in a production line at home.

It went well and involved some interesting problem solving, such as 3D printing a forming die for one of the snacks that needs to be squeezed into noodles directly into hot oil.

Tools and Equipment: Online RSS readers. My last RSS reader was a local affair on my PC and that's fine, but it runs into annoying limitations if you want to read while away from your desk. I would often read comics or blogs while out and then have to come home and manually clear them from my reader.

I'm now self-hosting FreshRSS but you don't have to do that, you can just use one of the many cloud readers. This way I have one reading list always syncing in the background and available on my phone, PC, laptop, work laptop, and anywhere else I want.

[albertonykus]

Where to Find Doraemon in English

Without a doubt, one of the main reasons that Doraemon is generally unknown in the English-speaking world is that most of the franchise is not widely available in English. However, English versions of some Doraemon media do exist, and in this post I will review how to obtain several of them. The “core components” of the franchise considered here are the original manga (1969–1996), the classic anime series (1979–2005), and the rebooted anime series (2005–present).

A selection of Doraemon manga chapters have been translated into English as a 10-volume series. These volumes were released as educational material to help Japanese speakers learn English, so they also include the original Japanese text printed above the manga panels. All the volumes in the series can be ordered from Japanese Amazon, which does ship internationally, at least to many places.

A second English series of selected manga chapters has been released in a similar format, though this time as six volumes and organized by specific themes. The stories compiled in this series do not overlap with those in the previous one, so both can be read without encountering any duplicate chapters. These volumes can also be ordered from Japanese Amazon.

An even greater range of manga chapters has actually been localized into English... however, these are only available on Kindle in the United States and Canada.

An English dub of the 2005 anime series aired in the USA between 2014–2015, covering 95 individual stories (52 half-hour episodes). It has not been officially released on home media or streaming services, but can be found archived online. From what little I’ve seen, the dubbing itself appears to be reasonably well done, though it should be noted that this dub contains numerous edits meant to "Americanize" the content, so it is quite heavily modified from the Japanese original.

A different English dub of the 2005 series aired in the UK between 2015–2016. It includes some episodes that were not adapted for the American dub (and vice versa). However, it has not been released on home media either and many of the episodes are currently lost, which I find surprising given how recently it was on air. In fact, the complete list of episodes it includes is apparently unconfirmed, though it has been inferred that it most likely consists of the first 26 episodes from the Japanese version. In any case, surviving episodes from this dub have been archived online. I also haven’t watched much of it, but the voices seem fine and it contains far fewer edits to the original material compared to the US dub. As far as official Doraemon English dubs with accessible full episodes go, this one is probably the most faithful to the Japanese version. (It even dubbed the theme song!)

Two movies, Stand by Me Doraemon and Stand by Me Doraemon 2, are currently on at least American and British Netflix with English dubbing (featuring the voice cast from the US English dub) and subtitling available. I’m not the biggest fan of these films (especially the first one) and don’t recommend them as an entry point into the franchise, though plenty of Doraemon fans would probably disagree with me on that point.

Despite the relative obscurity of Doraemon in most of the Anglosphere, there is actually a long and complex history of Doraemon English media beyond what I’ve described above. If you’re interested in learning more, here is a detailed video series on that subject!

As for unofficial translations, all I’ll say is that fanmade English subtitles of variable quality exist for the remaining Doraemon movies (excepting this year’s movie that, as of the time of writing, was just released in Japanese theaters) and some episodes of both the 1979 and 2005 series. There are even fanmade English dubs of a few episodes out there. However, numerous episodes (especially from the 1979 series) remain unavailable in English in any capacity. Maybe one day...

[ogradyfilm]

2023: A Year in (Movie) Review(s)

Every cinephile has at least one Holy Grail. It's a common story: interest in said rare movie is piqued by a fleeting allusion in the pages of some neglected reference book or obscure magazine article. Gradually, curiosity evolves into infatuation, then obsession, manifesting as a desperate pursuit that might persist for decades, the search constantly hampered by the tragic fact that the White Whale in question remains stubbornly elusive—either out-of-print or never officially licensed or localized in the first place. And even if it is available (usually through sources of dubious legality), the image quality is always barely a step above an nth generation VHS transfer.

Well, in 2023, I managed to cross five such films off my personal “bucket list”—and despite the year’s numerous challenges (financially, in particular), I think that’s an accomplishment worth celebrating. Thus, in the interest of posterity, I’ve enumerated them below, along with brief descriptions and links to the corresponding reviews I wrote immediately after seeing them:

A Page of Madness: Of all the miraculous discoveries on this list, this one was undoubtedly the most unceremonious and anticlimactic. I randomly stumbled across this silent avant-garde masterpiece (of which I became aware way back in college) while nonchalantly browsing Amazon Prime’s digital library; suddenly, there it was, available to rent for a paltry three dollars. The movie itself was sublime, of course; after spending such a significant chunk of my life hunting it down, however, the relative ease with which I ultimately acquired it couldn’t help but feel a bit… underwhelming.

Samurai Wolf: Although Hideo Gosha’s lean, mean chanbara classic has never truly been out of reach to those “in the know,” my own research into the assorted bootlegs and unauthorized foreign imports available via various online marketplaces was… less than encouraging. Fortunately, Film Movement came to the rescue like a chivalrous ronin; the restoration on the company’s Blu-ray release is borderline pristine, enriching the director’s already bold compositions and dynamic camerawork. Nihilism and moral decay have seldom looked so beautiful.

Angel’s Egg: Home video copies of Mamoru Oshii’s surreal animated allegory tend to be obscenely, prohibitively expensive in the West, and tickets for the infrequent repertory screenings generally sell out almost instantly. Thankfully, a recent overabundance of free time afforded me the opportunity to experience the film’s haunting, hallucinatory magic under ideal circumstances—in a theater absolutely packed with fellow fans and aficionados. The Q&A with art director/character designer Yoshitaka Amano that followed the feature presentation (courtesy of Japan Society) was just icing on the cake.

Door: While Banmei Takahashi’s taut, suspenseful, claustrophobic thriller is the latest addition to this list (I learned of its existence roughly a year ago, through out-of-context clips shared between several Twitter accounts), you shouldn’t make the mistake of underestimating my enthusiasm for it—my desire to see it burned with the fiery passion of a spurned admirer. As luck would have it, my thirst was sated rather quickly compared to the previous entries on this countdown; the movie played at this year’s Brooklyn Horror Film Festival—perfectly scheduled to coincide with the Halloween season.

Tokyo: The Last Megalopolis - When I initially encountered this ambitious, extravagant, and extremely expensive special effects extravaganza, the only viable way to view it was in twelve parts on YouTube, compressed to about 240p resolution—a format that hardly does the spectacle justice. Thank goodness for the fine programmers at Japan Society; the big screen really smooths out the movie’s minor flaws and superficial blemishes, and Kyusaku Shimada’s magnificent performance as the nefarious Yasunori Kato certainly benefits from a more expansive frame. Guess I can finally stop requesting the film in the feedback section of literally every post-screening survey…

And that essentially sums up my 2023; the satisfaction of enjoying so many films that had been taunting and tantalizing my imagination definitely took the sting out of the whole "prolonged unemployment" situation. With that said, I’d like to wish everybody a very Happy New Year! Hopefully, my adventures in cinema will continue in 2024. (For God’s sake, will some distributor please show Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s Sweet Home the love it so richly deserves?!)

[skylarmoon71]

Leonardo (TMNT 2014-2016)- Chapter 2

He didn’t tell Vincent about the encounter, or his brothers. He wasn’t sure what to tell. That you had him right where you wanted him for the second time and you just walked away. That even though he knew he should have apprehended you and alerted the police, that some part of him was a bit relieved that you’d gotten away.

He was conflicted.

Patrols after that made him weary. Like he would see you at some point, and his feelings of uncertainty would return. He knew deep down that you weren’t a bad person. But his head wouldn’t let him justify the killings you were doing. Because it was wrong.

So he waited. At that same point every other day in hopes that he could see you again. He’d run there around the same time after. Just waiting. Staring at the sky and wondering what mayhem you were probably causing.

For months he kept it up, but there was no sign of you.

He was beginning to wonder if you’d gotten way over your head.

Then one day Donnie had asked that you all meet at April’s.

There was a set up much like in the lair just like Donnie’s. She was a reporter after all. This particular room was strictly for solving cases and stopping crime. All the while getting the main scope.

Donnie was busy clicking on the keys. Vincent stood with her arms crossed and when Leo saw your picture on the screen his eyes widened.

“That’s her!!”

He could never forget your face.

“I’ve been putting together a collective profile on her ever since that day. I generated an artificial facial recognition scan and compared it to the case we dealt with. The way she moved, I thought it might not have been the first time.” Donnie stuck a flash drive into the computer, and when the file popped up, they stared at the information. Or lack thereof.

“Why is it blank?” April asked.

“Because according to my search, this woman does not exist.” Leo was speechless.

“I aint like the sound of that. We all saw her. Ya saying she’s some type of ghost?” Raph looked annoyed.

“Not exactly.” Donnie continued swiping files. This time when your image appeared, it was in a crowded area. It wasn’t the only one either. A number of different images were present. All from different angles and cities. Possibly countries.

“This is a lot bigger than any of us realize. We thought she was just operating on a local scale. “ Donnie pulled a news article.

“June 25th, 2015.Tokyo Japan. The Yakuza organization responsible for the trafficking ring was demolished.” Donnie pulled a photo as he spoke. You were completely blended in with the other group.

“Look at the time stamp.” Donnie instructs.

They all lean closer.

“June 24th..She was there a day before it happened. “ Leo mumbles. Donnie nods.

“December 6th 2015, Sochi, Russia. Assassination attempt on a civil rights activist is disrupted by an unknown vigilante. “

“January 12th 2016, Bristol, United Kingdom. Supremacy group disbanded, responsible for over two dozen deaths.”

Each country that he crossed off was followed by an image of you in that location.

“She’s targeting crime on a global scale..” Vincent states. Donnie nods, leaning back in his chair.

“Whoever this is, she’s not just stopping crime. She’s completely eliminating it. She’s been doing this a lot longer than we even realized. Her prints are somehow untraceable. I have no idea how she’s traveling. It’s possible that her tech skills go beyond even what I am capable of. “ Even Donnie knew when he’d met his match.

“Whoever she is, catching her is near impossible. This woman is unstoppable. “ Donnie explained.

None of them knew how to process the information.

~~~

When their little group meeting ended, Leo was alone with his thoughts. He’d completely underestimated you. As he ventured to the building to clear his head, his eyes lifted at the figure standing in his spot.

He stopped, and you turned.

“Long time no see.”

You sound so casual. This time you don’t have your weapon drawn.

“Why do you do it?”

He doesn’t need to explain, you understand what he’s asking.

“For the same reason you do. “

“You don’t have to kill. You’re strong. Powerful. Strategic. We can stop people without the casualties.”

His eyes look almost like a cry for you to take his hand and join him.

You just smile.

“I’m not going to change my ideology just because you flash those baby blues.” Leo was disheartened at the statement.

“You stand for justice, so do I. We just have different views. I’ve seen the work that you have done, and you do make a difference. But your faith in others, especially the human race, that’s your biggest weakness. You protect and serve, just like the police. But you aren’t one of them. They will never see you as one of them.”

“I don’t want to be seen as anyone. I’m me.”

You respect that.

“You’re a unique case. A part of me really wishes that I could be like that.”

“You can!” You shake your head.

“That’s the difference between me and you. You’re hopeful and just. You’re the very definition of a hero. I’m a killer. And as long as there are people out there that take pleasure in causing pain to others, then I’ll be there to stop them. Permanently. “

Leo’s expression fell, and he watched as you moved closer to the ledge.

“Never lose that spark baby blue.”

It was a teasing nickname. But he couldn’t help but feel comforted by it. You leap right off the building, and Leo’s eyes followed.

He’d never stop trying.