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kingangelrose · 4 years ago

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RWBY Volume 8 Chapter 1 Recap

“Divide” ------------------

We start off this new volume by seeing a girl scrubbing a wooden floor, that girl was Cinder Fall, before she was with Salem, this memory caused the Cinder now to scratch the seat of the airship seat that Neo was sitting in.

Cinder tells Neo to fly the ship over in the storm where the giant Grimm whale is, along with swarms of flying Grimm around it, going to return to Salem and give her the relic.

The whale opens its mouth, letting Cinder and Neo land the airship inside of it, they both walk up the stairs, to see Salem sitting on her throne. This was Neo’s first time ever seeing Salem in person.

Cinder bows to Salem, addressing her as her queen, Salem gets up from her throne, turning around with a little smile on her face. Salem tells Cinder that when she chose her for the vessel for the Maidens, she had put her trust in her, saying that she trusts she wouldn’t return empty handed.

Cinder presents the relic of knowledge to Salem, saying that she herself took it, which made Neo upset, Tyrian arrives saying to Cinder that outsmarting Ironwood speaks less of her intellect and more to his, saying that she was outsmarted by the heroes first, Cinder responds by saying that Ironwood and his forces outsmarted him as well, also saying that it was a shame Arthur Watts didn’t return with Tyrian.

Tyrian says that Watts a necessary sacrifice and hopes Neo doesn’t become another. Cinder tells Salem that Neo has very useful abilities and has proven to be a valuable asset, Salem says that Cinder really enjoys collecting them, which made Neo have second thoughts.

In new attire, Emerald and Mercury arrive, along with Hazel, Emerald runs to greet Cinder, but Cinder tells her to be quiet, stopping Emerald in tracks. Tyrian says while him and Watts were wreaking havoc in Atlas, Cinder was atoning for her past failures.

Cinder says that Penny stopped her from obtaining the Winter Maiden’s power, saying that now that she knows she has said power, it won’t take long before she finishes what she started and obtains the Winter Maiden’s power. However, Salem says that she gave Cinder no such commands.

Cinder tries to plea with Salem to reconsider, but Salem says that this “game” is not hers to win, it is Salem’s herself, she also says that just become she is of more value to her than a pawn, that doesn’t mean that she is a player, saying that everything is already set in motion, and that all that Cinder has to do is act when Salem tells her to.

“Of course.....without you....I am nothing...” - Cinder Fall With that, Salem waves her hands to everyone in the room, telling them to leave her presence, as she watches along as Atlas and Mantle are slowly about to be taken over. ------------------

Meanwhile, Oscar was in a poor looking village with a lot of homeless people and children in it after surviving the fall thanks to Ozpin, who returned in his mind, one offering him food in which he accepted and thanked the poor man for. The heroes arrive in the airship over the village, picking up Oscar.

Oscar says that he was stupid to think that Ironwood would listen to him, and every choice he made was wrong, Ruby says to Oscar that they all did what they thought was best and she’s glad that Oscar is safe. Just then, Joanna Greenleaf of the Happy Huntress waves her arms high to get the heroes’ attention to descend and get inside their base, in which they did.

Ruby, Weiss, Oscar, and met up with Yang, Blake, Jaune, Nora and Ren, also with who were already there, Nora walks towards Oscar, but instead of an intense and big hug, it was a soft and embracing one, Weiss asks Oscar how did he end up in the slums, Oscar responds by saying it’s a long story, and he has the feeling there was a few of them from everyone else as well, Ozpin in Oscar’s mind asked if he was going to tell them what happened, but in his mind, Oscar replied by saying that him and Ozpin aren’t done talking yet.

Oscar then asked where was Qrow, but none of them knew, unaware that he was arrested along with Robyn Hill. Joanna arrives in the room asking the heroes are they ready to work, she tells them that a large Grimm horde is hovering over the tundra and the people of Mantle are suck with no heat and no military protection, and while the Happy Huntresses are happy to give the heroes a place to lay low for the time being, the time came to give the people of Mantle help.

Ren asked how when Ironwood has stopped evacuations to Atlas, and with Salem’s forces surrounding them, they couldn’t get them out themselves, Joanna says that a crater beneath Atlas should suffice, even though it isn’t the safest route to go, she says the carter is warm that with all the people of Mantle in one place, they can do a better job protecting them. Joanna says that May Marigold can send the heroes where they are needed most, saying that they all have to get the people to the carter before nightfall, and that may have a chance in the slums.

“We’re never going to sleep again, I know it...” - Weiss Schnee “Either you’re helping, or you’re baggage...” - Joanna Greenleaf

While the plan was already being set in motion later on, Yang stands up and says to everyone that they have to go out and do what they can for Mantle, Ruby says that they need to do what they can for everyone, asking about Amity and telling the whole world about Salem and that they can’t do it all alone, needing help. Blake agrees saying that the Happy Huntresses are handling the evacuation better, saying there is a bigger picture.

Yang goes on the say that Amity isn’t complete yet, Ruby asks Pietro what would be needed to launch Amity, Pietro responds by saying that him and others made a progress with construction and fuel collection, which were all potentially manageable, however, it couldn’t be launch without clearance from Ironwood’s terminal, Yang tells Ruby that it’d be impossible for Ironwood to cooperate with them, Ruby says that he doesn’t have to and they just need the green light from his terminal, Yang questions Ruby about going back to the academy.

Pietro tells them at there are two terminals, one in Ironwood’s office and one in main Atlas Military Compound, in the base of the city, if they get in the compound in the operations room, which wasn’t certain, Oscar asks if this was the easy opinion.

Yang says that what Pietro is trying to say is that it can’t be done and it was pointless, telling Ruby that even if she were to somehow get the message out, there would be no guarantee help would come, Ruby snaps back at Yang and says it isn’t pointless, saying that Atlas is Salem’s current target, no longer being in hiding and once she’s done with Atlas, she’ll move on to the rest of Remnant, saying that they need to warn them.

Yang sighs and says to Ruby that when they arrived to Atlas, everyone said she would follow her lead, but things haven’t worked out, by everyone’s expression, deep down the feeling was mutual. Ren walks to the Ruby and says that there are people who need them now, which was something they could actually do, Ren decided to go with Yang later on, while Nora went with Ruby. Nora tells Ren that this isn’t about just Atlas, but about all of Remnant, agreeing with Ruby about warning the world of what’s coming, so they can prepare.

Jaune intervenes and says that they all can do both get Amity up and running and warn Mantle, Ruby then says that Salem has gotten this far by dividing them and that they have to stick together, Oscar disagrees and says what Salem really wants is to turn them against each other and that they can work separately and still be united.

Penny suggests that she could give the relic to Salem and hopefully call off her attack on the kingdom, Oscar says that they couldn’t trust Salem to actually do that and the moment she obtains the relic of creation, Atlas falls under Mantle. Yang says that no one is turning Penny in to anyone, that’s the one thing they can all agree on.

Ruby asks Pietro if he could helps to the terminal, but Penny intervenes and says, with the maiden flare in eyes that she’ll go with them instead, Before Yang walked out, Pietro toss a set of keys to the pharmacy to Yang, with a set of new tools inside of it. Nora tells Ren that she’s going with Ruby, Ren asked what about Mantle and Nora replied by saying she is saving Mantle, because she actually believes that she can do this.

So the teams are now set, one is Yang, Jaune, Ren and Oscar, the other is Ruby, Weiss, Blake and Nora. Blake tells Ruby that they still united, even if their separated. Maria says through Weiss’ communication com that she can fly in the airship and take Pietro to Amity to prepare, but she doesn’t know how we’re getting Ruby’s team to Atlas, however, Weiss had a idea for how they could, before she could tell her what it is, everyone got a call on their scrolls from Ironwood himself.

Penny answers the call and Ironwood says hello, he says that he’ll come pick Penny up right away if she tells him where she is, and that Atlas need her. Ruby was the one who responded to him and says that Penny isn’t going anywhere until he changes his mind about Mantle and there is still a chance for all of Remnant.

“Mantle...? You’re still worried about Mantle? Remnant is doomed, Ruby! Unless we leave, Salem will destroy Mantle and with it, any hope humanity has left. We need to think about that future...if she makes it through the defenses...everything that falls will be on your hands...” - James Ironwood

As Penny felt scared, Ruby embraced her with a hug.

Meanwhile, four of the Ace Operatives, Marrow Amin, Vine Zeki, Elm Ederne and Harriet Bree mourned the lost of their leader, Clover Ebi, who was killed by Tyrian, while Ironwood, with a new robotic arm was with Winter Schnee, who was in a hospital bed, bandaged up after her fight with Cinder.

An atlas guard notifies Ironwood that the prisoners had arrived, being Qrow and Robyn, Ironwood asks the doctors the give him and Winter the room, Winter says that she’ll be fine, but she could barely move her left arm and had a cast on the right. Ironwood then thanked Winter and that he wouldn’t know what to do without her, he says to her that no one has ever seen a Grimm force before, saying the city’s hard light shields will hold, but not for long.

Winter asked Ironwood what he would do, suddenly, Councilman Sleet and Councilwoman Camilla arrive, demanding answers from Ironwood as to what he was doing and why did he declared Martial Law, Ironwood answers Winter’s question by saying.... “I’m going to do everything I can defend this kingdom....no matter the cost....” - James Ironwood

Solidifying this vow, Ironwood walked out of the room, pulled out his gun and shot Councilman Sleet, possibly killing him, Camilla was shocked and afraid to even say a word afterwards, and all Winter could do was watch as Harriett looked back at her.

Meanwhile, Salem said to Jinn inside the relic that she had a question for her, she held the relic up to a Grimm to get the scent of Oscar, wanting it to bring him to her, so he could show her how to use the relic. ---------

With division and desperation all coming together in this chapter, what else can and will possible happened?

Will this volume be the heroes’ chance to united the world of Remnant or will this be repeat of Volume 3 filled with death and despair? Only time will tell.

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scribble-blog · 5 years ago

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Black Cats and Robinettes- a Role Reversal AU

Thanks @silverwhiteraven for giving me such a lovely prompt to work with!!! Find it here if you’d like to take your own stab at it!

Some side notes: In this AU I picture Adrien as our wonderful spotted hero! With Damian as our wonderful Black Cat. Chloé absolutely has the Bee Miraculous a la Adrien, but never exposed her identity (somehow) and fights beside them regularly. Marinette is the biological daughter of Bruce, and has been raised by him since she was a baby! Dick is very protective of her, as are Bruce, Alfred, Jason, Steph, Babs, Tim, Cass, etc, etc... how she functions as Robin when none of them want her near crime is hilarious I bet. (We all know she’s got a will of titanium and none of them can stop her from doing anything she wants to.)

Damian stared coldly around the room, watching as Césaire fawned around Rossi like cheap desperate paparazzi to a B list movie star. While Chloé and Adrien kept to themselves, icy facades disdainful, the stumbling pack of idiots they had been forced to travel with seemed to orbit her as always, presenting themselves for her approval as she spun low after lie.

He’d tried, long before, back when the Liar had only just started at their school, to show them the truth. A common courtesy, as no hero should let people be swindled they way she got them- but as soon as they made it clear they preferred to follow her blindly instead of believing the facts he presented, he’d let them go.

How Rossi has managed, with her mean intellect, to actually secure them the trip to Gotham he would never understand. Presumably, the entirety of the actual work rested on the shoulders of Césaire, Lavillant, and possibly Lahiffe, but he had no intention of asking to find out.

Truly, he’d had no intention of being on the trip at all, but Sabine and Tom has insisted that he join the school trip and spend time with his peers.

They’d been the best things to ever happen to him, when they’d adopted him six years ago. It was difficult now to tell them no for anything.

No, Damian Dupain-Cheng would never deny them anything they asked of him. When Talia had realized her... partner had lost the Black Cat Miraculous she had hoped he would pass on to their son, to him, she’d killed him for the slight and left Damian in the nearest city. Apparently, his genes were too “sullied” for him to actually bear the weight of being Ra’s al Ghul’s heir, without the promise of the powerful object falling into the League’s lap. It was her last gift to her son that she let him live.

They’d found him his very first day. Sabine’s sharp eyes had noticed him picking the pocket of a woman outside her storefront, and when he’d tried to retaliate when she grabbed him-

Well. She’d won his respect, and some of his fear. And they’d put him in the bedroom at the top of their home, and somehow...

He’d never left. And he’d gotten the last laugh against his mother for it, when Master Fu had chosen him for the very Miraculous Talia had conceived him for.

He shook his heads away front the thoughts as their tour guides, he assumed, approached. Surely it was them, because every other person in this lobby had been studiously avoiding the group. He heard Rossi mention her ‘best friend’ Maria Wayne one more time and resisted laughter. She couldn’t even get the girl’s damn name right.

“Welcome to Wayne Enterprises, everyone,” the taller guide said, gesturing openly for them all to gather up. “My name is Richard. Together with Marinette, one of our interns, we’ll be guiding your tour today.”

He motioned to the much shorter girl, who appeared to be their age. Damian gazed curiously, watching as she flinched away slightly from their focus before stilling, and then looking up, proudly, an easy smile on her face. Her blue eyes practically sparkled.

“It’s a pleasure to be able to join you today,” She said in perfect French, and Damian felt gleeful as her eyes darted towards Rossi with the slightest visible distaste. “Richard can understand French, but doesn’t speak it quite as well, so I am here to act as a translator when needed. I believe the notes for your group mentioned that some of you are not yet fluent in English. I will be available during the tour for any possible questions you have that aren’t as easy to articulate in English.”

Her eyes finally met Damian’s in her final sweep, and he tried not to let his breath catch. She was pretty, yes, but the force of her gaze was intense and it made Damian’s heartbeat stutter. Fuck.

Richard stepped forward again. “Alright. If you all have your guest passes-“

The tour was fun and genuinely engaging, though he noticed several people uncomprehending as they couldn’t quite catch Richard’s words, and no one had been brave enough to speak to Marinette except for Chloé. She’d asked several times for the girl to clarify a point in French.

Which the girl did, cheerfully. It was always some part of information that sat on the edges of Rossi’s many lies, nothing to call her out entirely but enough that the Liar was spending whatever seconds she wasn’t panting after Richard she was glaring at Chloé and Marinette indiscriminately.

They stopped for lunch at the building’s cafeteria, and Damian quickly got his own food, sat down and Chloé and Adrien joined him. They weren’t quite friends- but they kept together in solidarity against the rabid pack. The silence as the age was as normal as the court Rossi held over at the table she’d chosen.

And then another tray joined them.

“So,” Marinette said in beside him. “I had a question for you three, since you seem- sharper than most of your classmates. Does she always-“ she gestured one hand loosely towards Rossi. “Do that?”

“Lie like her life depends on it?” Chloé sneered. “Sadly, yes.”

Marinette looked out over at the full table, growing rambunctious as Lila laughed at something or other. “Hmm. Well. Perhaps I can put an end to it. Also,” she reached across the table, the motion surprising Damian. “Why didn’t you tel me you two would be here! I could’ve made plans! You could’ve stayed with me instead of whatever hotel you guys had to rent out 15 rooms for.”

Adrien chuckled, meeting his eyes. “Damian, let me actually introduce you. This is Marinette Wayne, who we’ve been friends with since every fashion week since our parents first started dragging us to them.”

Marinette- Marinette Wayne looked at him, and then blushed as she offered her hand to him. He took it, shook once. “Damian Dupain-Cheng.” He hoped his heart wasn’t beating out of his chest.

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Damian,” she said kindly, and he knew he had a crush. Her eyes darkened and a grin stole across her face. “How would you like to help me prove to the people in your class that that girl is lying once and for all?”

And he knew he was in love.

TAGLIST: @ash-amg

#maribat #daminette #daminette role reversal #fanfic #prompt fill #contest winner #lila salt #minor class salt

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love-dreams · 4 years ago

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pairing: hoshi x fem!reader

content: based off of the netflix show, the queen’s gambit, with different character names (check the masterlist!) - please note the original time period means lots of racism and sexism; adoption; drug misuse; anxiety and stress

wc: 5,897

note: this took awhile to finish, but i have a feeling that this will turn out to be a trilogy! hoshi and y/n finally are crossing paths next chapter :)) please let me know if you’d like to be tagged! HAPPY NEW YEARS YALL

recap: (Y/N) is a genius prodigy chess player who learned from Mr. Jihoon Lee, the orphanage janitor. The orphanage, Methuen, feeds the girls tranquilizers that help (Y/N) hallucinate chess moves. This allows her to “play inside her head.” At the end of the last chapter, (Y/N) had broken into the cafeteria’s storage and overdosed on drugs.

the queen’s gambit masterlist: 1 2

Soapy water dripped off the mop’s wool locks to the cold, cement floor, leaving a bubbly wet trail on the floor. You cautiously avoided the reflected areas.

“Mr. Lee?” you meekly greeted. Your voice was low and hesitant as you inched toward his stout, hunched over figure. He kept on mopping, seemingly paying no attention to you. “I can’t play chess anymore. Kim said so.”

He paused for a moment, turning his head toward her. His cold eyes raked over your figure, but Mr. Lee still didn’t respond, choosing instead to return his attention back to cleaning the floor.

Your chest tightened in remorse from your actions, but eventually, you took the hint and walked back to the moving train of students, disappearing into the masses.

That would be the last time you and Mr. Lee ever spoke.

Soonyoung remembered when he first played against the country’s champion.

His name was Yoon Jeonghan.

At the time, Soonyoung was still in high school, and Jeonghan was twice his age. He still looked as young as Soonyoung did, though, he noted sullenly. His younger step-brother, Chan, idolized Jeonghan, and for good measure. He was the undefeated champion for three consecutive years.

They played at the eye of a hurricane of onlookers. Reporters weren’t allowed to take photos, in fear of disturbing the duo chess players, but Soonyoung wouldn’t have heard the shutters snapping anyway.

The rush of blood to his head would have drowned out anything else.

The first time Soonyoung played Jeonghan, he lost. Quite terribly, he remembers, but Chan assures him it was a close game.

All he could remember was Jeonghan’s poise. His confidence. It radiated from him and into the fingers that moved his pieces. His intellect was far superior to Soonyoung’s at the time, honed by years of experience and studying. To Soonyoung, it felt like playing in front of a god, someone who was on a completely different level.

It was awe-inspiring.

Soonyoung played him two more times in two years. And then he won him in the third.

In the middle of the day, seemingly out of nowhere, Mr. Jun interrupted your class, calling for you to follow him. Everyone in the classroom, including the teacher, stared at you expectantly.

It’s not like you had any other choice.

Your heart rate gathered speed as Mr. Jun motioned for you at the doorway of the office. You cautiously ambled through the narrow hallway until you caught sight of two other people. One male, and one female.

“Mr. and Mrs. Park, this is (Y/N)!” You had never heard the Headmaster’s voice sound so friendly. You almost reeled back in shock at her change in tone and demeanor. What a joke... you thought darkly.

The two adults turned to face her. “Yes, (Y/N) is thirteen years old,” Headmaster Kim paused for affirmation glaring straight into your eyes.

“Actually, I’m fiftee-” you trailed off, seeing the expression on Kim’s face. You cleared your throat to cough over your previous sentence, straightening up your back. “Yes, I’m thirteen. I’m thirteen years old.”

Kim smiled and the foreign scene caused you to shiver. If you found Headmaster Kim’s punishments scary before, you found her act of friendliness simply unnerving. “(Y/N) is at the top of her class in English, reading, and geography. She also assists with the local chapel.” You nodded along. “(Y/N) truly is the model Methuen girl.”

You let your face be effortlessly played by your puppet master, painting on an innocent smile and crossing your hands formally. The woman, Mrs. Park, had a bright smile on her face that made you feel automatically welcomed and safe. The man, on the other hand, refused to even look at you. He had a newspaper outstretched in front of him, and his aura was just as cold as Headmaster Kim’s.

The two opposites puzzled you, but you tried to keep your thoughts from showing on your face. You let your eyes take small peeks down at the couple as you continued to stand trough their talking.

After what seemed like hours of negotiations and paperwork being passed from one person to another, Headmaster Kim finally let you go. You waited patiently outside the office, saying small greetings to the students passing you in the hallway. Just as you were trying to figure out what to make of the couple, the Headmaster, followed by the duo exited the office.

You watched as they walked straight through the doors and to the car parked on the driveway in astonishment before noticing the tall figure walking toward her.

Suddenly, you realized that the hall outside the cafeteria was deserted, except for you. Everyone else was inside, enjoying themselves.

Headmaster Kim bent down slightly so her face was closer to yours. You withheld the urge to flee on sight and retch in front of her.

“You should go pack.”

“You know it’s highly irregular for someone to be armed with a knife regularly, you know?”

“I have it for self-defense.”

“Against who?”

“Anyone.”

“You’re crazy, Soons. That’s not a legitimate answer.”

He shrugged. “I like control, like on the chess board. Having this knife with me is part of that, I guess.”

“So you’re a control freak.”

Soonyoung laughed, touching your shoulder gently. “I guess I am.”

That night was the same as all the ones before it. The sky was dark and so was the room. It felt too quiet to you, like there was an absence of something. The other Methuen girls hadn’t finished with class yet, but Kim had dismissed you early from school, not that you were complaining about that.

It might’ve been the one nice thing she’d done for you.

You found Ruth in her adjacent bed, lying on her side. From the way she was acting, you’d guess that she hadn’t gone to class all day.

You set your open suitcase on the wrinkled bed sheets and started to fold all of your clothes with moderate care. You packed your shirts, your skirts, and of course, your chess books. The latter being the most important possession you ever owned.

You ran a fingertip down the old spine of the book lovingly, creasing over any parts that were starting to jut out. You did this to every single book, running your own hands over the letters imprinted onto the leather

Slowly, the stack of books shrank until one last book was sitting on your bed. Your heart erupted into anxiety as you started to shuffle through your stacked clothes, opening all the drawers in the small bedside table.

“Have you seen my book?” you asked impatiently, panic slowly dripping into your voice.

Ruth cracked open one brown, chocolate eye, huffing as she pushed herself up. “Which book, cracker? You’ve got a dozen of ‘em.”

Your fists clenched in stress. “Modern Chess Openings, have you seen it?” you clipped, short and curt.

“Now don’t you go accusing me,” Ruth snipped back in annoyance. “I ain’t got any use for no book like that.” You sighed in defeat, letting your hands go loose. “Plus,” Ruth added. “You don’t need a book to play anyway.”

Your eyes dropped in shame to the ground, diverting your gaze. Your heart felt heavy all of a sudden: guilty. You hesitantly seated yourself beside Ruth’s still figure, letting your hand rest on top of your friend’s hip.

“You know, I’m sorry.”

Ruth scoffed, but you could hear the raw huskiness of her voice. “Sorry for what?”

“That nobody wanted to adopt you,” you replied.

Your friend didn’t respond for a few moments.

“No one wants to adopt a black kid as old as me anyway,” Ruth finally said.

“If you ever have kids, do you think they’d have to learn chess?”

“Well, I already have a kid and he plays just fine! Not as good as me, I guess, but he’s alright.”

Chan looked over his hamburger, cheeks slightly rounded as he chewed. “Wait, who is it?”

“I think you mean ‘who is he,’ right?”

Chan rolled his eyes and swallowed. “Yes.”

Soonyoung winked and rummaged through his coat pocket. “I think I have a picture of him somewhere...”

Chan craned his neck and body to see the small, pixelated picture on his cell phone.

“Oh, screw you, Soons. I’m not a damn kid.”

Soonyoung laughed, letting his voice roll over his vocal chords. He winked once more for good measure, feeling very pleased over Chan’s reaction.

“That, you are, kid brother.”

It was your first time riding in a car since you were nine years old, driving to the high school to play your first tournament of chess. You couldn’t help your fascination with the scenery outside of the black gates. Green strips of landscape flew by in a blur and color exploded in your retinas.

It was breathtakingly beautiful. So much so that you didn’t even have the capacity to respond to it.

As the car entered the suburban neighborhood, you took time to study each individual house’s features: the window shapes, door colors, everything. You saw kids on front porches with their parents, people were everywhere. Unlike Methuen, the women wore colorful skirts and they were all different.

When Mr. Park finally pulled up to the driveway, the whole situation’s magnitude hadn’t settled on your shoulders yet. Mrs. Park exited the car first, closing the door behind her and opening the door for you. She’s nice to do that for you, you thought.

You followed Mrs. Park into the house, eyes scanning everything around you in pure fascination.

It was when you were in the front living room of the house that you felt out of place with your dreary Methuen uniform. The windows were decorated with lace drapes so only a few bars of golden sunlight were shining on a muted primary rug that sat underneath a grand piano.

“Well? Home sweet home,” said Mrs. Park breathlessly. She did a small twirl in the living room with her arms outstretched. You felt the small inklings of a smile.

Mr. Park cleared his throat behind you, startling you. Sensing his prickly displeasure, you moved aside hurriedly as the man walked past both women to a velvet maroon arm-chair.

Jimin was a practical man, you could tell. He wore glasses when reading and a tie with his suit. He never seemed to take particular interest in being welcoming or loving to you unlike Chaeyoung. He seemed cold and disconnected to his wife and you and his stares were often condescending. You didn’t fear Jimin like Headmaster Kim, but you definitely didn’t like him as much as Chaeyoung.

“Ah,” Mrs. Park nodded. She clapped her hands together. “(Y/N), we should get you acquainted with your room!”

Chaeyoung quickly whisked you away from the living room, guiding you up the carpeted stairs. You tentatively grabbed your suitcase, sending one last curious glance at Jimin before following Chaeyoung upstairs.

Upstairs had more than one bedroom, much to your amazement. Methuen never had walls in between bedrooms. Chaeyoung kept walking down the hallway until stopping at the very last open doorway.

She gestured toward the inside as you moved to stand by her side. Your neck craned as you peered over the edge of the door frame.

“You have no idea how hard it is to find good chestnut furniture,” commented Mrs. Park from the doorway.

You took small, shy steps into the interior of the room. Then, you whipped around to face Mrs. Park. “Is this.. Is this all for me?”

“Why of course!” Chaeyoung replied. “I should leave you alone for now. If you need any help, just call!”

Your heart swelled as she stood in the bedroom alone. The room was entirely covered in pink. Your bed covers were pink and on top, there was a light pink veil covering it. The carpets were fluffy salmon-colored. You set her suitcase down near the doorway before flinging your body onto the bed, bouncing upward slightly.

You laughed in amazement, scrunching your eyes in disbelief. You had a family, you had her own room. It was like life was repaying every loss you ever had, like something had finally gone your way.

“You’re leaving for two weeks?”

Chaeyoung’s voice woke you up from your sleep. You looked out the window to see the married couple out on the driveway. Chaeyoung seemed to just have gotten up as well, dressed only in her nightgown and dyed hair still unruly. Jimin was in his normal attire and it seemed like they were in some sort of argument. You decided to eavesdrop a little, pressing your face to the glass pane.

“Yes. I’ve got some business in the Midwest, apparently. I could be there for weeks. Maybe a month.” Jimin got into the car promptly, shutting the door in front of Chaeyoung.

“Do you have to take the car?” Chaeyoung desperately asked.

“How the hell would I get anywhere without a car? You’re a terrible driver anyway.”

“You could get a rental,” she suggested.

“I’m taking the car with me, Chaeyoung.” He started the engine. “Remember what the doctor said?” His head turned to look his wife up and down. “Some exercise will do you good.”

Then, the engine rumbled to life, carrying the car and Mr. Park away from the house. Mrs. Park physically sighed before slipping out of your sight.

As you got dressed, there was a different sound replacing the cold voice of Mr. Park: the melancholy melody of an instrument. You let your feet drop on each stair step, your ears savoring the beautiful tune. A head of dyed hair appeared over the staircase railing and the piano. You held your breath, sitting down gently on the carpeted stairs.

“Stop staring over there, you’re making me nervous.”

Chaeyoung’s voice cut through the piano’s noise. You broke out of your trance. You quickly walked down the stairs and into the living room normally.

“You play beautifully.”

Chaeyoung’s lips upturned for a moment, but dropped soon after. The smile did not reach her eyes. Instead, it seemed broken and hollow, a deep sadness filling the woman.

“I used to want to become a professional pianist.” Her fingers twitched into movement and music flowed from the belly of the piano. “But I had terrible stage fright, not the best for an aspiring professional,” she laughed dryly. You stood stationery, transfixed with Alma. “And then I got pregnant.”

“You had a child?” You blurted out, too shocked to even think through your question.

Chaeyoung’s finger slipped and dissonance jarred the entire piece into chaos. This time, she did not continue. Her eyes were downcast and her misery spread throughout the room. “We did,” she answered.

You felt your throat close up. Maybe life just had a grudge with you after all. There was obviously conflict between Chaeyoung and Jimin and now you were in the middle of it.

Suddenly, Chaeyoung lifted herself and the same melancholy smile was directed toward you. “Would you like some tuna casserole? We have some left over.”

You shook her head, adamantly. The recent tsunami of new information was making you nauseous. “I’m good.”

“Do you want me to walk you to school?” she tried again.

“I think I’ll be alright,” you answered curtly. Chaeyoung sighed but didn’t force herself upon you. You had never been the most sociable person and you had no intention of creating more trouble for yourself.

The school was a short walk away from home. Along the way there, the few straggler students walking on the sidewalk grew into an entire flock. Noise erupted from the open doors of the school building and you vaguely felt the hints of deja vu from her first encounter with outside students.

During your free block, you got to work inspecting the school’s library.

Your head turned left and right while watching some of the other students hurrying around in the room. There were sounds of giggling laughter between shelves and the light rustling of paper pages. Then, your attention turned toward the librarian in front of you.

“Do you have any books on chess?” you rushed out, uncomfortable in the swarms of people.

She looked up at you through her rounded glasses. The librarian slowly took them off to study you. “Sorry?”

You tapped your foot impatiently, feeling all sorts of embarrassed and shy. “Books on chess.”

“I don’t believe we do,” she pondered. “Oh! But if we do have any, they’ll be at the back shelf over there.” Your body instinctively started to move toward the direction she pointed, desperate to get out of this awkward situation. “There should be some books on Xu Minghao too.”

That name caught your ear.

“Who’s that?”

The librarian smiled, but looked at you quizzically. “Why he’s a grandmaster, of course.”

“What’s a grandmaster?”

“A very, very good chess player.”

“(Y/N), would you be a dear and run down to the local pharmacy? I need to fulfill a prescription.”

You automatically stood up from your bed and walked a few steps to the adjacent bedroom. Chaeyoung looked awful with her dry, dirty hair and blotchy red features.

She sniffled a little bit before reaching to her bedside table. “Here’s a note.”

Her hands were weak and skin and fat clung to the bones of her arm. You nodded with sympathy and carefully slipped the note from in between Chaeyoung’s frail fingers.

You left the Park house shortly, hurrying down the street toward the town center. There were a few people there along with cars bustling down the road. Spotting the pharmacy’s sign over the store, you quickly crossed the street towards it. The door bell jingled as you stepped into the store.

Catching the owner’s attention, you slid the prescription note over the counter, tapping your fingers on the wood as he disappeared behind a shelf.

You then took the liberty to look around the store while he was gone. You rotated your body until you found something on the side of the brick wall.

“TIMES: CHESS MASTERS”

“And this is it,” he muttered. A small pill bottle was sitting on top of the wooden counter. You grabbed it, pocketing it in your dress. Your eyes were still fixated on the magazine.

Reaching to grab it, a gruff voice suddenly stopped you.

“Hey.” It was the store owner. “Buying only,” he said, pointing to the sign above the magazine holders. Then, he turned his back onto you.

You nodded and on your way out, reached for a newspaper beside the magazine. You dropped a few coins onto the counter and strode with long confident paces.

The red outline of the magazine peeked from the pages of the newspaper.

“I think I might start giving you allowance.”

“Hm?” You murmured over the pages of the Times magazine.

“An allowance,” Chaeyoung repeated. “It’s good for young girls like you to start learning how to manage your finances.”

You blinked up at her. “Okay.” You rose from your spot and hurried up the staircase. “Can I go buy a chess board then? I think I might want to attend a tournament this weekend and I need to practice.”

Chaeyoung scrunched her brow, she was displeased. “I don’t want to discourage you from social events, but don’t you think there are better opportunities for girls like you to meet new friends? Like dance classes or something,” she suggested.

You sighed and looked down at Mrs. Park from the railing. “What did you do to socialize when you were my age?”

You didn’t wait for her response and ran into your room. Hope fluttered in your chest as you opened the magazine again.

“KENTUCKY CHAMPIONSHIP THIS WEEKEND. 10$ ADMISSION FEE.”

“I’ll be there,” you murmured to yourself. You rolled over onto your back to stare at the two green speckled pills on your bedside table. You swallowed them and waited.

And waited.

Nothing was happening.

Finally, you jumped up on your bed and ripped off the pink canopy. Huffing in frustration, you threw the remaining, scratchy fabric onto the ground. You let your head rest on your pillow as transcendence settled over your body.

Familiar shapes soon began to fade into reality onto the ceiling.

The address on the magazine was a high school. People were bustling everywhere in the forum. You quickly found the registration table and walked towards it, careful not to bump into anyone along the way.

Two young-looking men were conversing when you walked up.

“Excuse me,” you said.

They looked up at you. When they noticed your gender, they immediately smirked, clearly sleazy about a woman being in front of them. One of them leaned forward towards you.

“Lost your way, lady?”

You internally groaned at his condescending tone, wanting nothing but to walk straight out of the building. You let out a breath of annoyance.

“I’m here for the chess tournament?”

The two males glance at each other.

“Well, do you have a ranking?”

This time, the other man spoke. They looked like twins with their nearly identical outfits and slicked back, brown hair.

You shook your head. “This is the first tournament I’ve joined.”

Twin #1 scoffed and shook his head. “Then you’ll join the beginners bracket.”

What?

“But I’m not a beginner.”

Twin #2 chimed in, his voice firm and unyielding. “Doesn’t matter, no ranking means you’re start as a beginner.”

Cooling yourself down, you started to think. “How long does it take for me to get a ranking?” you inquired.

“3-6 months,” Twin #2 answered.

Then, the perfect idea settled into your head. You started rummaging through your bag for the spare change.

“Put me in the open then.”

“What?” sputtered Twin #1. “Are you crazy? There are professional players in that open. Lee Chan is going to be playing.”

“Who’s Lee Chan?” You ignored them and finally fished out the ten dollar bill.

The both looked at each other again, sharing some kind of secret message in between them.

Twin #1 sighed. “Do you have a clock?”

A clock?

“No,” you answered faithfully.

“We have a clock sharing system. If you don’t have a clock, your partner will have one for you.”

You nodded in response, still confused about what a clock was supposed to be doing in chess.

Twin #2 slid a sheet of paper to you. “Here’s your first round.”

You took it and promptly left the desk, feeling relieved that it was over.

“So.. do they usually put the girls together like this?”

“Huh?”

There was another girl sitting in front of you. The only one, as far as you could tell. She had pretty curled brown hair and she introduced herself as Oh Seunghee.

“I don’t know, are they supposed to put the girls together like this?”

You looked around the empty gym filled with tables of chess players. You were seated right next to the coffee station.

“Well, they’re not supposed to,” she responded.

Seunghee had an innocent smile and pretty, dainty fingers.

“The chessboard is a battlefield,” Mr. Lee’s words rang through your head. “Naivety gets you killed.”

You nodded and looked over at the wooden framed clock to your right. “So, how does that work?”

“Oh, right!” Seunghee clapped her hands together excitedly. “So, once you make a move, I hit the button up there and your time starts to count down. Once the red flag falls, your time is up and you lose.”

“Seems simple,” you murmured. “And this thing?” You tapped the sheet of paper you got from the registration desk.

“To track your moves. Afterwards, you circle the winner.”

You nodded and picked up the pencil to write your name in. “So I can start your clock now, right?”

Seunghee waved her hands, “Go ahead!”

You carefully clicked the metal button down, testing it. Immediately, the clock started ticking off the seconds.

Seunghee moved her pawn forward and leaned on her clasped hands. Her big brown eyes stared at you with a hint of mischief. You nodded awkwardly at her gawking.

“Um, aren’t you supposed to hit the clock?”

“Oh, yes! Sorry. It’s just.. I’ve never played against a girl before.”

Your steps up were fast, the adrenaline rush from the chess game creating the perfect haze for you. You missed this.

When you got to the top, you turned a sharp corner to the registration desk. The two sleazy men were still there.

“What do I do with this?”

You waved around the heavy card paper for dramatics.

The twins looked around together.

“That fast?”

“Mhm.” You didn’t felt the need to verbally respond to the sleazeballs.

“Just put it into the basket,” they sighed.

Having nothing to do, you went back downstairs. Your eyes scanned over the empty tables and chairs that held only a few scarce players, a complete change from a couple minutes ago.

Noticing a crowd, you walked closer towards a divider that had a sign reading, “QUIET PLEASE.”

You weaved your way through sweaty backs and chests until you could somewhat make out what was in the middle of all the commotion.

A chess game.

In the middle was a table with two chairs and two players. Two male players, you noted. The setting seemed to be no different than any of the other games that played around you, making you wonder why this one attracted such a crowd.

You nudged someone close to you. “Who are those people?”

The man looked down at you in amusement mixed in with surprise. “That’s Lee Chan, the current state championship holder. And that’s Park Jisung, a rising chess player. Jisung’s the best of his town and his university.”

You nodded. Lee Chan.. you had heard that name before. At the registration desk.

“Is he a grandmaster?” you pointed abruptly.

Chan’s eyes narrowed at you. “Sorry, could you quiet down over there?”

You flushed with embarrassment and gauged the man’s reaction as well. He had a small small on his face when he glanced down at you as well.

He leaned closer to you to whisper, ““Not yet. He’s working towards it though.”

“I want to play against him.”

“Not everyone can play him. You need to win all of your rounds and so does he.”

You remembered the book you’d checked out from the library. Then you remembered the Times magazine and Mr. Choi. And of course, Mr. Lee.

A grandmaster...

“You want to play Lee Chan?”

The twins had names: Hyunjin and Jinyuh. They reminded you of the high school players you beat during your time of at the orphanage.

You nodded, not understanding why Jinyuh seemed so flabbergasted. “Is there anything wrong?”

Hyunjin scoffed, “You know you’d have to win all of your rounds in order to do that right?”

You remained nonchalant. “And I will.”

“No you won’t,” Jinyuh cut in. “You’d have to go through Joshua!”

“Forget Joshua,” Hyunjin chuckled humorlessly. “Your next round is Seungkwan and he’s way underestimated. He’s the captain of his college chess team and his team hasn’t lost a single tournament this year!”

You let out a sigh and grabbed the score card, leaving the twins speechless. Your pace was brisk as you walked toward the designated table for your round. Being doubted constantly was starting to get onto your nerves.

You tapped your fingers impatiently on the wooden table before a familiar face made you halt your motion.

“So I guess I’m your next round.”

It was the man from before. The one who was with you when Lee Chan was playing. This was Seungkwan?

“Um, yeah, I guess so,” you stuttered out.

His smile was just as mischievous as before, however, this time it had a streak of competitiveness.

Seungkwan adjusted his cuff sleeves and settled into his chair. His brief case rested next to him, leaning against the legs of his chair.

He motioned for you to start his clock and you did. Leaning over slightly to push the rusty metal button down.

The game was on.

The clock was still ticking down the time. There were roughly twenty tables set out around you, all of which were holding chess games.

You didn’t waste time trying to count the tables exactly though. The man in front of you was providing enough entertainment.

Seungkwan’s brows furrowed as he studied the board, cautiously making a move and hitting the clock.

Your hand moved automatically, pushing a chess piece toward its designated position in your mind. Seungkwan huffed. You grinned.

“Jesus, (Y/N), you’re humiliating my rook.”

“He won’t have to suffer for much longer,” you murmured.

Seungkwan’s eyebrow arched up as if coaxing you to tell him your strategy. You shook your head and motioned for him to return his move.

He sighed and slowly, slowly, tipped the white crown of his king to the board.

“Alright, you got me there, (Y/N). I lose.”

You blinked. He forfeited?

All of a sudden, a rush of deja vu hit you. You were reminded of one of the first games you had played with Mr. Lee. How ironic, you thought. Now I’m on the other side of the board.

Seungkwan extended a hand out to you. You daintily shook his hand, feeling shy from his act of sportsmanship.

He bowed slightly and picked up his briefcase. “I wish you luck on your next rounds, (Y/N).” Seungkwan winked and then left in a blink.

You followed him toward the cork board announcing all the pairings. You watched in satisfaction as your name went from the bottom of the board, to the top.

It was getting slightly tiring playing four consecutive chess matches, but as you walked up the stairs toward registration, you figured that it was all worth it to see the look of pure shock on Hyunjin and Jinyuh’s faces.

You stared at them expectantly, tapping your foot impatiently as you waited for your next pairing to be announced.

“You’re done,” Jinyuh sputtered.

Your brow raised. You had won all your games, how was that possible? “What do you mean?”

“The games are done for today. The finals are tomorrow,” Hyunjin said.

You nodded, satisfied with today’s results. “Thank you,” you replied and walked out of the forum, feeling even more confident when you realized that everyone’s eyes in the room were on you.

The clock ticked away as your fingers tapped against the table. Your eyes were everywhere in search, looking at every person standing around the chess board. Lee Chan was not here yet.

You let out a sigh and kept tapping away. The empty chair in front of you taunted you. Your gaze kept darting to the clock mounted on the wall, the red seconds hand traveling in rotations.

“Sorry about that,” Chan huffed.

You turned your heads toward him, your gaze sharp and burning. If he was bothered by it, he didn’t show it.

Chan shuffled in his chair for a few seconds before leaning in on his elbows. “Ready?” he asked, a grin on his face.

You let out a small scoff and leaned to start his clock.

It was a long game and long made you stressed. You weren’t used to this level of competition and it was starting to get to your head. It was harder to predict Lee Chan’s moves and counter them, almost like your eyesight was fogging up and blurring.

“Excuse me,” you gasped out before racing towards the bathroom. The crowd parted like the sea when you moved.

You splashed water all over your face before reaching into your pocket for your reassurance. Your tranquility. Your fingers fumbled with the pill bottle before tipping it forward. Pills tumbled into the palm of your hand.

You dumped all of them back in except for one and swallowed the green pill without a second thought. You let out a relieved pant and let your breathing stead.

As you slowly raised your head at the mirror, you stared at the reflection, memorizing each flutter of movement on the bathroom ceiling.

When you exited the bathroom doors, your sight was back, zeroing in on the chess board. You sat down in the chair and moved your piece swiftly.

Chan’s brows raised in concentration as he leaned further in.

The next few moves were all just as swift as the first one. Your strategy was played with no hesitation and as the end game drew near, Chan was starting to catch up.

Unfortunately, his pieces were still too behind.

“You see it don’t you?” you murmured, staring at him with widened eyes.

Chan was sweating now. He kept shifting in his seat and breathing heavily. “I can get out of this.”

“No you can’t. If you avoid my bishop, I’ll just take with the r-”

“Move!” Chan spit out.

You sighed, rolling your eyes, but complied.

The game played on into the end game. As you closed in on the king, you were two steps away from it. Your heart sped up in giddiness, feeling the sweetness of adrenaline on your tongue.

Chan’s voice broke through the illusion.

“Draw?” he whispered.

Your heart stopped. A draw? Your eyes whirled to the bystanders around you, some of which were now muttering underneath their breath. Your eyes rested on the familiar face of Seungkwan. His eyes were swirling with a mischievous mirth.

“No,” he mouthed at you, shaking his head.

You nodded, a smile returning to your face. “No way.”

Chan huffed, bracing himself against the table. He threw down his king.

The crowd erupted into applause as Chan walked away from the board.

You had won the state championship.

“So, I heard you lost your… whatever tournament that was.”

Chan sighs, “It was the state championship, damn it. What the hell are you doing here?”

Soonyoung grins and leans back in his chair. “C’mon, Chan. We’re family, remember? Don’t big brothers check up on their siblings’ interests and stuff?”

Chan glances up at him bemusedly. “Is chess the only interesting thing you ask about?”

“Hm,” Soonyoung pondered. “I don’t know about you, but it sure is for me. Say, what was her name? I think I saw it in the newspaper somewhere…”

“(Y/N) (L/N),” Chan grits. It was an embarrassing defeat on his part and celebrating his loss with the country’s champion wasn’t helping. Smirking, Chan decides to take a little bit of petty revenge. “I think she might beat you.”

“Oh ho!” This caught Soonyoung’s attention. “The girl who beat you?” He immediately sits up straighter, his eyes ablaze with competition. “Hm, is she coming to Vegas?”

“Probably.”

“Well then, we’ll just have to see. All in due time, right?”

Chan chuckles, “She might not go, though. You never know. And if she does go, I hope she beats your ass. Jeonghan’s always saying you got it coming.”

Soonyoung lets out a dry chuckle. “Now I’m intrigued by this mystery lady. However,” he pauses and contemplates his next words.

Chan looks up at him suspiciously, “However, what?”

Soonyoung grinned.

“I don’t plan on losing my title just yet.”

Chess was a game of delicacy. Like a pyramid of stacked cards, there was a method and a strategy to complete it. Missing a step meant a pile of lost cards on the table.

“You were too caught up with double pawns last game. You’ll win this one, (Y/N). You have to.”

previous part: here

next part: here (unavailable)

tag list: @haotheheckk @gryffindor-jun

#caratwritersclub #seventeen/reader #hoshi/reader #soonyoung/reader #seventeen hoshi #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #svt fluff #svt angst #hoshi fluff #hoshi angst #soonyoung fluff #soonyoung angst #g:seventeen

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hitsuackerman · 4 years ago

Text

Unpredictable (Overhaul x Reader) pt.3

a/n: I just saw a post with Overhaul without his jacket... BRUH. the infinite possibilities of--- yeah I’ll save that for the next parts XD enjoy the 3rd part :)

warnings: this cannot be read solo, cursing(?), subtle flirting

Links: part 1, part 2, part 4

Masterlist to my other fics: here :)

Overhaul’s waiting list: @jjk-biased @infinite-universe-love

“Okay.” Tsukauchi said as he took the seat across from you. His outstretched hand returning the envelope he had cross-checked. “There really will be a gala at the said area at the said date.”

“Who are the possible plus ones I can bring?” You asked. Your eyes glued to your desktop. As of the moment, you were digging up some articles about one of the minor cases you were working on. Of course, you could skim through articles and talk to your workmate. It was as easy as breathing by now.

“There’s only 3 possible candidates.” He began to enumerate. “Me. Shinezu. Namase.”

“Shinezu?” You stopped reading and stared at him. “You’re kidding me right?”

“Perhaps~” He joked. “I mean it would be nice to bring him along and expose him to the outside world. The kid needs a social life. All locked up in his office. Only going out when absolutely necessary. The exposure would do him good.”

Your focus glided to Shinezu’s office. It wasn’t for you to judge but it was clear as day he was happy as a loner and would dread any sort of unwanted communication. The fact that he was even part of this small select group of people was a miracle itself. Though, you had to admire his intellect. Nothing went past him.

“I was actually planning on taking the man himself.” You broke the news. Somehow that sentence caused your heart to pick up its speed by a little. The sound of Tsukauchi’s chair rolling towards you caused a bit of discomfort. “Think about it. He has more ties than I will ever have and his quirk would surely intimidate the boss. It’s a gamble on my part as to how he would carry himself but he’s level-headed. So far.”

“You sure about that?” His voice was much nearer now.

“Nope.” There was no use in lying to this person. “I’m just pulling threads here. But, his title might draw me closer to the main goal here. Besides, I’d like to see him without that horrendous jacket.”

“You’re not being affected by his charm now, are you?” Tsukauchi pried as he slowly went back to his work space. “We all know just how manipulative he can get.”

Gathering a few folders and envelopes, you placed them onto your bag. Fixing your hair, you stood up and went towards his area. Leaning onto the partition, you fixed the strap of your bag and crossed your arms.

“I don’t like being interrogated, Nao.” You said. “But if it gives peace to your running mind, here is my answer. I’m being as cautious as I can be. There’s nothing more to it.”

You waited for a response but by the looks of it he was either using his quirk on you or he was satisfied with your answer. The latter, hopefully. Excusing yourself, you exited the precinct and looked for the nearest coffee shop. If there was one thing the office needed, it was better coffee.

Your nearest bet was a 5 minute walk from where you stood. Looking at your watch, you had a couple of minutes to spare before interviewing a few civilians. Beginning your short walk, your mind drifted back to the plus one. Tsukauchi didn’t give you the go signal for it. Was this now all on you or would you have to consult him one more time?

Your hand was now fiddling with your phone in your pocket. Trying to single out the possibilities were rather tricky. The neon sign for the shop was now above you. You had been so lost in thought that you failed to realize you had arrived at your destination. Leaning on the door, you dragged yourself in and waited in line.

With the events going on, this called for a sweet drink. Something with chocolate in it. A sugar rush was something you needed.

You were currently the 3rd person in line. Pulling your phone out, you checked for any notifications. There was one. Clicking it open, it stated that the meeting you scheduled to have for next week had been pushed to today. Picturing your schedule, you had some free time later in the afternoon. Nodding, you sent out a reply and moved a step forward.

The day had just begun and things were starting to become busy. Thank gods the coffee shop smelled amazing. The exposed beans generously spread out its aroma around the cafe. Soft jazz music played in the background, enough to blend in with the buzzing chit chats of customers. A hint of mayoram and geranium gifted your sense of smell.

‘Wait..’ Your eyes began to scan the area. There was only one person whose wallet could afford such a scent.

“For an officer,” Overhaul said from behind you. “You’re quite slow.”

Pivoting, you were face to face with him. A new and very identical jacket replacing the old one. However, there was something off about his look today. His golden orbs simply stared back at you. Taking in your puzzled features. Then it hit you. A gasp escaped your mouth.

“Did the bird fly away or is this a new look?” He was without the bird beak. Instead, a simple black mask covered the lower half of his face. What was he hiding underneath that mask? Did he have a scar on his lip? A burn? If his eyes were breathtaking, what could possibly even out such a marvel? Subtly, you shook your head. What in the world were you thinking?

“I choose whether or not to wear the mask.” He replied. His latex wrapped hands motioning you to move forward. “This is one of the cleanest cafes that live up to my standards. It may not look like it but the smell of coffee beans are rather attractive.”

“It’s been a while, (Y/N)!” The employee greeted you. She giggled at how she broke your train of thought. It was something she barely got to see after all. “Will you have the usual?”

“Uh, N-no. For today, I’d like a choco chip supreme with less ice.” Your cheeks began to burn up as you had stuttered. Reaching for your wallet, you felt a foot gently kicking you. Looking up at the source, you stepped aside and waited for his move.

“2 Americano’s.” Overhaul ordered. In the corner of his eyes, he saw how your cheeks were beginning to turn a faint shade of red. As expected, this was interesting for him. “I’ll pay for her order as well.”

“You don’t have to.” You put up your palms and were only met with silence as he handed the payment.

“Put it under her name.” He instructed the employee to which she agreed. When both of you were given the line to wait for your orders, Overhaul signed for you to follow him to a vacant table near the window. Pulling the seat, he waited for you to sit down. To which you did.

“What do you want, Overhaul?”

“Can I not spend time with the person I’m assisting?” His hands remained on his lap. Sure, the table was clean but he wasn’t taking chances. Glancing at the window, his stare glued to the black car parked across the street. He could imagine Chrono inside slowly losing his patience. “I merely wanted an update for your plus one.”

“I’m still thinking about it.”

“Bring the first person that pops in your mind.” He tilted his head once more. “Isn’t that how you people think?”

“So you’re not a person?”

“I’m clean compared to you.”

“I’ll have you know I’m a clean person.” You pouted and pointed your index at him. The way his eyes widened with fear at the possible contamination was rather amusing. “You just wouldn’t know because you're afraid of dust. I bet your immune system is low.”

“Hmph. On the contrary, my health is pristine and well taken care of. I simply choose not to touch filthy people like you. I do make exceptions every now and then.”

“They must be blessed.” You rolled your eyes and the sound of your name broke through the jazz and chatter. “Well, make yourself useful and get our orders.”

“Of course.”

That had to make you wonder. He did not flinch, show any signs of annoyance, or even scoff at your command. Instead, Overhaul silently lifted his chair and made his way towards the counter. Seeing him bow as he received the beverages was weird. For someone who murders people, he sure is polite when it comes to mannerisms. Perhaps, those traits of his were already present. Even before becoming a villain.

When he sat back down, he took a tissue and wrapped it around your cold drink. Placing it in front of you along with the straw.

“Be my plus one.” You blurted out. Your view focused on him.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” He stood up and lowered his head. “I shall pick you up at 6. Is that fine?”

“Yeah.”

“If nothing else, I shall leave you be. Chronostasis must be fuming by now.” Before turning to leave, he had the audacity to add. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Following his body, you stared as he crossed the street and entered the same car he had been eyeing at.

Inside the car. Overhaul closed his eyes and listened to the small complaints his companion had. The visit to the shop was never intended but when he saw your figure walking down the street and entering the quaint shop, the decision to stop the car only caused Chrono to wonder.

Handing him the bird mask, he watched as his boss wore the contraption.

“Send the RSVP later.” He instructed. His voice muffled once again. “Use the alias we usually hand out for events like this. And call in the tailor. I’ll be needing a new suit.”

“That woman has taken your interests.” He commented.

“No.”

“Then why bother following her?”

“I did not follow her, Kurono.” He corrected his assistant. “It was merely chance running into her at this time of day. Besides, it’s amusing how she does not seem to hold such fear when I am around.”

Curling the sleeves of his jacket, he observed his skin. Not a sign of breakouts. In his subtle attempts to place himself close to you, he had come to the conclusion that you were relatively pure. Save for your quirk of course.

Speaking of quirk, there were still no updates regarding that information. Imagining the sum of money the Abegawa Tenchu Kai had to pay to keep that hidden was something he had to praise. The same could be said for his real name. Did you even know what his name was? Or were you left with redacted articles regarding that?

Closing his eyes once more, his thoughts went to the headquarters where his experiments were now running a bit late. Still, a few minutes delay was something he could live by.

Meanwhile, you were now preparing what explanation to give Tsukauchi. You had already given him a reasonable explanation as to why you would want to go with Overhaul. It also wouldn’t be the first time you would inform him of such unconventional choices you made. Ruffling your hair, you clicked your tongue and took a deep sip. “Uhm, (Y/N)?”

From the window, your view shifted to the employee. In her hand was a tray with a blueberry cheesecake. A shy smile resting on her feminine features. Scratching her nape, she let out an awkward giggle.

“The man told me to give you this after he left.” She said as she placed the dessert on the shiny brown surface.

“Oh, uh, thank you.” You stared at the cheesecake and immediately took your phone. Looking for the unknown number, you were only hoping that this was his personal number and not one that would alert the whole Shie Hassaikai. Sending the message with a rapidly beating heart, you cursed yourself for feeling this way.

To calm you down, you scrolled a little further and finally dialed your partner.

“Nao. I’m taking Bird boy with me.”

A long sigh was heard on the other side of the call. If you could bet money, you were sure he was massaging the bridge of his nose and leaning onto his chair.

“As much as I do not trust him, that would have to be the best decision for now,”

That went… smoother than you had initially thought.

“What’d you just gather?” Curiosity lacing your voice.

“A lot of big names are invited but we noticed that a handful of them are villains. Notably Akuji, Nokusu, and if our records are right, Tamisura.”

“Shit.”

----

are yall enjoying the story so far? :’) comment or message me if you want to be a part of Overhaul’s waiting list or any questions about the story :)

#overhaul x reader #chisaki kai x reader #overhaul #chisaki kai #bnha overhaul #mha overhaul #bnha chisaki kai #mha chisaki kai #he is garbage but here i am simping him so much

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vixenpen · 4 years ago

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Couples Questions for Keigo and Miku (OC)

SFW

1. Do they have inside jokes?

The “wing” thing (if you have to ask you wouldn’t understand)

2. Does either have an addiction?

Miku takes downers to sleep or relax after her shows. Not quite an addiction, but not the healthiest habit.

3. What makes them worry about the other?

Keigo worries about Miku’s pill habit. His parents were addicts. He doesn’t want to see that happen to her

Miku feels Keigo takes on too much even when he doesn’t have to. She feels he makes himself a sacrificial lamb.

4. How do they cope when they’re separated for a period of time, by work or something else?

Snaps. All. Day. Long! Literally from sun up to sun down. Miku’s backup dancers are looking at her like: why tf are you giggling over a picture of a piece of toast???

5. How do they handle a break up?

Keigo: SEVERE Mood swings. One minute everything fine the next minute sad boi is sobbing on a rooftop while listening to breakup songs. Goes through the motions at work. Goes home and just lays down. Empty

Miku: Writing sad songs all day everyday. Her next 3 albums are going to make people feel miserable because that’s how she feels. She doesn’t handle loss the best and gets physically sick over it. Vomits, ugly sobbing, aches and pains, fevers. Baby processes grief horribly.

6. Do they ever resent each other?

Keigo: Is envious that Miku has such a supportive loving mother. Gets wistful watching them interact

Miku: wishes people took her as seriously in her career as they take Keigo in his.

7. Who is more grounded?

Keigo! Miku is flighty (pun intended) and dreamy by nature. is a Gemini after all. And Keigo as a Capricorn is a bit more level headed by nature.

8. Who is more willing to compromise?

Keigo because Miku is high low key spoiled

9. Do they have any habits that anger the other?

Keigo kicks his feathers under the bed or couch instead of cleaning them. Then uses the excuse that he’s storing them to make a nest. No you’re not, Kei! You’re just lazy!

Miku: leaves random things on the roof or in trees because those are the places she goes to day dream and think. Keigo once couldn’t find his favorite jacket for a month

10. What would one say is the other’s most attractive physical feature?

Miku: For her it’s Keigo’s eyes. She gets lost in them. “Bae, staring contest?” “Are you just using that as an excuse to stare into my eyes?” 😳 “.......nooo...” 😏 “Sure, babe. By the way you’re swooning again.”

Keigo: her hair. Just look at it!!! Her hair is a literal cloud 😩

NSWF👄

11. What is your favorite and hottest sex position? Why?

Keigo: doggyyyy those wings fluttering when she’s about to cum is 👌🏾😏

Miku: doggy. It’s so rough and feral

12. Do you like to have sex outdoors? Does the possibility of someone catching you doing it turn you on?

Keigo: hell the fuck yeah to both!!!!

Miku: yesss omg outdoor sex is 🤤 I feel so bad for people without wings. Flying sex is 😩😩😩💦💦💦💦

Keigo: Damn sweetness, Having flash backs? 😏

13. Do you prefer rough or gentle sex? Do you like to kiss during sex?

Miku: *sings* and baby when it’s love If its not rough it isn’t fun

Keigo: We all know I like it fast and rough come on now 😏 and bae wouldn’t have it any other way.

14. Do you like anal sex? Have you ever tried it? How was it? Would you do it again? Is it something you really enjoy or did just do it to please your partner or to see how it felt?

Keigo: having my sweet Angel pound my ass??? Yes please!!! Them anal orgasms hit different 😩😩😩

Miku: Anal sex is 💣🔥 that hot cum spilling out of my ass unfff 😫

Keigo: See, You gone make me act up, Angel, you better Stop.

15. How do you feel about being nude in front of others or in public? Does this excite you or does it make you feel embarrassed?

Miku: I LOVE it! I worked hard for this body, it’s sexy af and I love to show off. I’m an exhibitionist by nature. Anyway, it’s my job. I can’t be a shy sex symbol!

Keigo: never done it, but I love watching bae prance around naked in front of people 🤤 she knows how good she looks and likes to tease and I love that shit.

16. Do you like to have sex with music on or off? If the answer is on, which songs put you in the mood the most? Is there an artist who you find puts you in the sexiest mood?

Keigo: yesss bae has the sexiest “sex” playlist Keith Sweat, LSG, Jodeci, Janet Jackson,🥵😩😩

Miku: yesss it sets the mood so well, and Kei low key be trying to fuck on beat.

Keigo: no I don’t!

Miku: 🙃🙃🙃

17. Do you prefer being the dominant one or the submissive one? Would you ever allow someone to dominate you and to what extent? Have you ever tied your partner up or have you ever allowed the other person to tie you up? How do you feel about spanking?

Miku: With that man’s quirk do you really think I haven’t been restrained and tied up????😤 he play too damn much, and I love it! We switch

Keigo: Miku is mommy in bed and I just—👌🏾👌🏾👌🏾😩🤤🤤🤤 plus spanking makes her pussy grip harder.

18. Do you make noises during sex? Do you scream or moan? And what do you like your partner to be like during sex—loud or quiet

Keigo: On my lifeeee my Song Bird makes the prettiest sounds in bed. All melodic and shit, moaning and screaming my name in that sweet little voice I—phew, give me a minute *walks away muttering*

Miku: Umm...😐 anywayyyy...Kei moans and cusses during, and its so sexy cuz his voice gets all low and raspy. 🥵

19. If you could have any celebrity join us for a night in bed, which one would it be? It’s gender optional, so you could choose literally whomever you wish?

Keigo: Endeavor

Miku: Endeavor or Mirko or Mt. Lady

Keigo: I meeeaaan...we can make at least one of those happen...

Miku: 👀

Keigo: 👀

20. Have you ever experimented with the same sex? Have you ever fantasized about sleeping with someone of the same sex?

Keigo: Didn’t have to fantasize and it ain’t experimenting. Dick and ass is wonderful. #bipride #biguy

Miku: Ditto except with pussy.

Bonus! (Compatibility based on star sign):

Gemini and Capricorn compatibility is intense! This duo has an inspirational relationship. When others view them together, they often wish for the same love. Gemini and Capricorn pairings are dynamic and fun! Both signs are full of vigor and ambition.

They understand each other on a level other people do not understand them. This makes the relationship feel as if they owe no explanations to one another. They are who they are and don’t have to explain why they feel or act the way they do.

A Gemini and Capricorn pairing is not only fun, but they also share a similar intellect and interests. The relationship is easy going and exceptional. But, that’s only if they conquer what few obstacles come their way. Lifelong love is the promise of this pairing when both are in accord with one another’s needs.

Gemini can prove flighty and of a fickle heart. So, if they want to be with a Capricorn, they must settle down. Capricorn is trusting. But, they will only trust Gemini to the extent their partner earns it. The Capricorn partner does not take cheating lightly. If Gemini waivers from the commitment, it is next to impossible to repair the love connection.

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holy-mountaineering · 4 years ago

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Here’s the full Qabalistic Tree of Life Spread that I do and here you are. What I’m going to do is go through and briefly explain each card, its position on the Tree, and then I’ll give you a summary/synopsis of the spread as a whole. You know the routine.

Think of this spread as a sort of quantum map, or even the land of a regular map, everything is happening at once, in each place. It’s important to think of yourself as moving “through” the map but you are also simultaneously everywhere at once. For the sake of this specific experiment, think of this as a map. Maybe as a person, the Qabalistic Adam Kadmon.

Where we’re starting the journey from is Kether, the monad, the first sign of creation. We’ll call this your hometown, since it is where you’re from originally. Here we have the 9 of Cups, Happiness.

I call this ‘mutually beneficial relationships’ or expanding influence (Jupiter) going or being pulled both ways (Pisces). Each cup has its own source but everything is flowing into each other down to the base of the 3x3 structure. There is a lot of water and all it represents and it hasn’t reached its peak yet and is still driving upward and outward.

Cultivate relationships and connective feelings that aren’t lopsided or just giving/taking. Keep building, you’re not done yet.

In Chokmah, which is like your freeway getting you out onto the road out of your hometown is the 3 of Wands, Virtue.

This is not a moralistic idea of Virtue, this is the idea of formulating a basic mode of action to build from. Virtue unto yourself and your Will, as in doing what you do because it’s what you do. Astrologically, this is Sol in Aries or springtime. This is the energy of the Sun close to Earth creating new growth from the stagnate winter. You can also read a message of centering on new growth in your life.

Create a basic plan like a farmer might for spring. You’re no sharecropper, this is your land so plant the fields only according to your Will.

In Binah, which is ruled by Saturn and for the sake of this reading we will call the first stop on your roadtrip. You haven’t really arrived anywhere but you’re stopping and getting a chance to repack your car in a more efficient way. Sitting in Binah is the 2 of Disks, Change.

This is the old saying, “The only constant is change.” This is finding stability in the aforementioned changing. In other words, when stuff gets different, strap in and hold on, steady yourself, and get ready to go into the unknown. Look a bit before you leap but understand that position is king, not appearances. You’re building toward the unknown and pretending to know is not the kind of posturing you should bother with. Not looking for the result of the change, being in the motion, and enjoying, embracing the motion toward the unknown is where you should position yourself.

Disks are Earth, matter, the material world, your everyday life and 2s are the suit trying to formulate into something from the rawness of the Aces or the beginning of the idea of Earth. Astrologically, the influential and expanding Jupiter is in the highs and lows of the Goat-Fish Capricorn, think rollercoaster, possibly one that goes underwater. And like rollercoasters, they’re scary but probably not going to be the cause of your death. Unless they go underwater, that sounds dangerous. This is a great time to be aware that you’re moving around and kind of always will be. Enjoy the twists and turns of the ride and don’t stress yourself about how and when it will end.

In Chesed which is ruled by Jupiter and again for the sake of this experiment we’ll say involves your influence and benevolence in your current trip is the 10 of Swords (mental and communicative) Ruin.

Astrologically, this is Sol the Sun or your center being split by the duality of Gemini or duplicity. This is like making a decision by not making one. Your intellect is collapsing in on itself due to building duality or otherness conflicting with how you think of you. This is being “of two minds” but they duo doesn’t seem to work together very well. The good news is that they’re damn near done working together at all. 10s are the highest number card or as intense as it gets.

Try to integrate your splitting and increasingly destructive thinking and/or communicating, make meaning out of this chaos. And hey, don’t worry, it’s peaked and now you have to slide down the mountain of crazy you just climbed.

Across the Tree in Geburah, which is Mars Town, where you find your drive and what you’re trying to accomplish/conquer is the 5 of Swords, (mental/communication) Defeat.

Like all 5s this is the microcosmic or human card, if you don’t believe me stand up and stick out your arms and legs, boom, you’re a pentagram. Swords are mind, thought processes, communication and the like, and this is mental growth limited by its mundane focus or dwelling on the limitations of yourself and other individuals.

Realize your limitations and the limitations of others. You are seriously just a human and so is everyone else. Try to focus your mind on bigger picture things instead of mundane/shitty people, ideas, thoughts, and ways of thinking.

In Tiphareth, the Sun and center of gravity holding all this in place, the heart pumping the blood through this, your heart is the Ace of Disks, the root power of Earth or the material.

This is the foundation which all your solid structures are and will be built on. This is the very root of your real world/material life situation. While this doesn’t mean you must tear everything down or that there is nothing in your material world that you've built, it does mean you must look at the source from which you've built your material and everyday world. If you have no foundation you can have no structure. If you have a shoddy foundation, you'll have a shoddy structure. Look to what things were like before you began building. Is there sand beneath you? Are you in a swamp, building castles of stone that will bind to the mud and be pulled down much sooner than later? Did you account for the raise in elevation when you laid your foundation? Look down to the base of what you've made and what you've made it upon.

This is an engineering job, you’ll need tools to measure and level everything out. The occult might not be the best place to find these tools and it is possible that you have issues much more base than you're willing to cop to. There are many tools you can use to look at your foundation provided in psychology and meditation from other sources. The Universe throws us extreme situations and more often than not, this is the only way people see their basest of instincts and behaviors really act out. If you can, take a look at what connects you and what you’re building to the Earth before an earthquake, tornado, volcano, or other act of G-D forces you to pray everything was fine. Check the strength of your foundations before the strength of your foundations are checked.

Get down to the base fundamentals of what is going on in your material (things, money, living situation, literal stuff) and build from the ground up if you must.

In Netzach, Venus town, where you have the realization about how this is going to change you as a person with a personality is the Queen of Cups, the watery part of Water, total emotion and intuition.

This Queen looks through her reflective eyes at the ripples on a pond at the reflection of the moon which reflects the Sun. She isn’t so much interested in looking directly at a thing as she is looking at the effects. The tides being ruled by the Moon was discovered by observation of the correlation of movements of both Lvna and the comings and going of the tides. Her animal is the Ibis, who on one leg intently stares at the surface of the water. This was perceived as meditation and contemplation by the wise people of Khemet and they attributed the ibis to Djehuti or Thoth the wisest of their pantheon. But like ibis you have to act when the fish swims by or you’ll starve.

Do not look directly at a problem or situation you feel strongly about. Look for effects and not the causation or the point of impact.

In Mercury Town Hod-ville, where all the Universities are and everyone has real intellectual shit going on is IV The Emperor, Tzaddi, Aries.

The Emperor is the activating consort of III The Empress. He is King of Spring, the sign of Aries being his energy. He has the energy of the Sun, who in spring gets closer to the Earth and revitalizes the plant growth. The Emperor is formulated, active energy that causes force and growth.

This is new growth brought about like the spring that Aries heralds. Like the season of Spring, this card is activating the potential growth of the Earth, that is to say, the time is right to spring forth and grow as you can, with what you have.

Get formulated and active. Put things in their place or notice the NATURAL orbits of things. What works is that which grows from your energy.

On the Moon in Yesod, the receptive and reflective place that is alot about the feelings that you’re picking up from all this is the Princess of Cups, the earthy part of Water.

We could consider this the substance in water or water hitting substance head on. This is the idea of the canyon wall being ground down over the millennia by moving water. The nutrients and minerals in the earth are transported down river to the fertile delta. This is the natural, “following your feelings” within your daily life. Try not to fool yourself, follow your intuition, not just passing whims. Feel, don’t necessarily react immediately.

Go with what you feel and intuit, let yourself go with the flow, if you will. Allow your situation to move with your emotions and be patient with your progress.

Down here in Malkuth-istan, the everyday life mundane, waking up pooping, and going to work world is XVIII The Moon, Pieces, Qoph.

This is the ‘Sun at midnight where you stand shines on the other side of the world’. The pull of night and day eventually rising, illuminating what was once dark. As opposed to the old Aeon idea of the Sun dying, this is the cyclic motion of the push and pull of the day and night. The dark gives the light context and vis-a-versa.

See the light in the dark, accept the cyclic push and pull, if you don’t like what “time of day it is” in your life I assure you it will change like the tides.

So, we’re starting from a place of having the emotional resources to set things up in a healthy and beneficial way. A way that creates a path to enacting your Will and being aware of and in the flow of the real world Change you are a piece of.

That’s all fine and dandy for being in your personal world, however you’re going to find that expanding outward from there will be met with the fiercest of resistance, namely that of your own mind. When you begin to build your world outside yourself, you will find that people, even yourself, may have limitations in understand your goals and your way of Working, do not focus on the limitations, focus on the Work. Then and only then will you be able to start from the foundation you wish to lay out and truly build from and on top of!

Your personal growth or how you view that will not be a straight line. If you look at your growth as a linear process, you’ll miss all of the subtleties that are really building your world. And again, even outside of yourself, this is only your world, only take possession of that, and activate or work within that world, let others build their own. And if you feel force pushing against your force, roll with it. Allow your river to flow in its natural direction, do not try to dam the river, or worse yet, redirect the natural flow to meet some preconceived notion from others on how it should wind and turn, that is only for you and nature to decide.

Speaking of flowing, this natural process of growth and movement is, as stated earlier, one of subtle force. The ebb and flow of tides can only be predicted once one understands the effects the Moon has on the material world, This is not direct, it is not a lit path made clear to all. This is a force that is directed from Other and is only showed to those who first understand the subtleties and reflection that is made clear through study and intuition. Remember the Queen of Cups, remember the dowsing rod that while we don’t understand how it works, it will lead you to water, if you allow it to.

Ta Da! Hit me up with any questions!

#tarot spreads #mirronx

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wutguycreations · 7 months ago

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Tartarus moment

#hes so cool yall #epic fr #art #original story #story #drawing #original character #unintelligent movie #low intellect motion pictures

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pi-cat000 · 6 years ago

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MSA time travel idea (part 15)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Vivi POV, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Lewis POV, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14

Part 16: here

The first few hours on the road are almost relaxing. Lewis drives, Vivi and Mystery sit up front, and he has plenty of space alone in the back. Arthur doesn’t get carsick like Lewis does so he’s fine with sitting in the small, makeshift seat which he’s installed for this very reason, letting the engine vibrations calm his nerves. This set up has bothered him in the past. Now he’s just happy to watch Vivi and Lewis chat and joke together.

Everything is perfect right up until Vivi suggests, rather forcefully, that he take a turn driving up front with Lewis and Mystery while she takes a turn in the back. She’s been doing this a lot- trying to get him to interact with Lewis- and he has no idea why, only that it hasn’t been great for his anxiety levels. Unable to really argue, not without seeming like a jerk, Arthur takes the driver’s seat wearily. At the very least, he doesn’t have to worry about accidentally making eye contact with his full attention on the road.

Gradually, he drives them through some nice-looking sloped ridges, almost mountains, following the road as it winds upward, higher and higher. Lush greens and dark browns are a nice change from the monotone desert he’s used to. Vivi seems to enjoy it, leaning over the middle seat divide, eyes fixed on the pristine landscape. Right. This is Vivi’s first time leaving the claustrophobic collection of small towns surrounding their even smaller township, of course she is going to find it fascinating.

Now, if only Lewis could be equally fascinated with the abundant natural beauty instead of fixating on Arthur’s profile. He swears he’s been acting as normal as conceivably possible, yet Lewis is still behaving like he’s got some strange dirt on his face. Why? Why can’t they all go back to that easy friendship from his memories? Why is it so hard to just be himself?

“So I haven’t seen you online this last week?” Lewis finally comments, breaking his extended period of staring. There is a pause while he waits for Arthur to respond.

“Online?” Arthur keeps his vision fixed on the slowly straightening road. They are now following along the top of one of the ridges.

“Your game accounts and chatrooms. You’ve been inactive lately. I was just wondering if there was a reason for that,” Lewis repeats, almost apprehensive.

“Oh yeah. Right…online games.”

Had he still been playing those at this point? He could have sworn he had drifted away from them by now.

“I’ve been busy working on this prosthetics project. I have this new idea on how to convert neuro-transmissions into electrical pulses, and I think it’s going to be pretty useful if I nail it,” Arthur can’t help but smile, happy that the excuse has a little bit of truth to it.

“That sounds…” Lewis pauses, surprised, “pretty big actually.”

“It will be once I get it working,”

It had been a somewhat significant breakthrough in his original timeline, a collaboration with researchers at the St Peter’s Medical Research Foundry, and his unhealthy work ethic. Now he is recreating everything solo and finding it a tad more difficult, especially with salvaged and sub-par equipment. As much as he had hated the hospital, the labs had been pretty cool. It’s also doing an excellent job at distracting him from his increasingly horrific nightmares.

“Still think a ghost detection device would have been cool,” Vivi pouts from the back, still mostly focused on the landscape rushing past. Out the window is a spectacular view of the adjacent valley.

Arthur grimaces, responding, “Sorry Viv. You know I’ve been avoiding that sort of thing,” to keep with his ‘dislike of the supernatural’ image.

Vivi is now a lot more focused on the conversation because she quickly elaborates, “Oh no, don’t apologise. I’m just fantasising a little. Prosthetics are way more important.”

Arthur is hit with a small pang of renewed guilt. Maybe, when they get back, and he finally gets to see that psychologist he probably needs, he’ll miraculously get over his fear, and they can go ghost hunting for real. A ghost detection device would actually be pretty useful for avoiding potential disasters.

Lewis clears his throat, “About that. I know you’ve said that you’re apprehensive about investigating superstitions and supernatural locations, but I was wondering, and I’m not accusing you of anything… but I’ve noticed that you seem to bit more…jumpy lately.”

“Eh?”

That wasn’t good. So Lewis had noticed his aversions. His grip tightens around the steering wheel.

“If there’s anything I can do to help. Or if I can do anything, I don’t know, differently...” Lewis continues, speaking carefully, oblivious to his uneasiness, “You can always let me know. You know...”

This is not what he wants to be discussing.

He can’t tell if Lewis is disapproving or if he’s subconsciously adding texture where there is none. In his mind’s eye, he can almost see ghost Lewis glaring, angry and accusing. Everything is growing very hot and stuffy, van door and low ceiling pressing in on him.

Flames are drawing in close, licking at his clothes.

Crap. He needs out of the driver’s seat before he drives them to their deaths.

“Hey look! There’s a View Point. Let’s check it out,” He blurts, spinning the steering wheel with more urgency than strictly needed. Vivi cries out in surprise and Mystery yelps as he is flung onto Lewis’s lap. Everything rotates, left wheel briefly lifting from the pavement, and they rocket down a narrow exit ramp.

“Arthur! What the heck,” Vivi squawks from the back, popping back up from where she’s toppled over, slightly frazzled. His heart is beating exceptionally fast, and he slows the van to a more manageable speed. The last thing he wants to do is crash.

“A little warning next time. Geez. I could have died back there, ” Vivi complains when they pull into a small parking bay. She doesn’t appear to have noticed his unsubtle ploy to quickly end his conversation with Lewis. Ahead of them is a sheltered enclave, enclosed by rock walls which raise up to meet the highway they had just exited.

“Sorry. Sorry. I just saw this turn and thought you’d want to stop and take a photo or something,” Arthur defends even as he’s leaping out the driver’s seat to get clear of both Lewis and Mystery. In the few seconds he is out of view, obscured by the bulk of the van, Arthur takes a moment to collect himself. He presses himself against the van's cool surface, hand over his chest, feeling out his heart and natural rhythm. Slowly, he counts his breaths, wrestling with a brief bout of slightly blurry vision.

“Wow!”

Vivi, who has flung open the back of the van, climes out, standing near him. She is staring happily out at the vast, open space. The brilliant blue sky stretches away infinitely and before them is a collection landscape, ridges, and valleys sprawling for miles. They have stopped at an official View Point, with several wooden plaks containing information on local frontier towns and an accompanying area map.

“Guess this is worth almost dying for,” She goes to give him a half-playful wack in the arm. The right arm, thankfully.

“Haha. Don’t joke about that,” Arthur mutters, trying to shake the lingering jitters as quickly as possible. Briefly, he makes eye contact with Mystery who is standing at Vivi’s feet. The dog is watching, head cocked to one side, considering Arthur with intelligent eyes. The appearance of intellect is broken when Mystery turns to scratch an ear with his back leg.

Vivi walks to lean against the railing, which cordons off the steeper part of the sloop down, pulling out her phone to take pictures. The wind pulls at, and whips about, her hair and short blue skirt. Arthur averts his gaze awkwardly and accidentally makes eye contact with Lewis who is walking around from the passenger’s side. The taller man is watching again, expression creased into a deep frown, slightly hurt. Arthur looks away guiltily. What, exactly, Lewis is thinking, he doesn’t know, but it’s probably nothing good.

“Hey check that out,” Vivi calls, “You can see the start of the desert from here.”

“Guys,” Vivi turns when they fail to answer, taking in the awkward distance between them. A second and they’re all silent, listening to the wind rustle the branches of nearby foliage.

“Come on then. Let’s take a picture together. First one of the trip.” Vivi motions for them to stand side by side, putting the wide vista in the background. Her eye’s move between them once again before she is distracted be a shiver brought about by another gust.

“It’s actually a lot cooler up here then it was done there.”

“Who would have thought,” Lewis teases, voice light with only a hint of unease from their standoff. Looks like they’ve all collectively decided to ignore the last few seconds of tension. For now anyway. He’ll find some time to talk to Lewis later when he’s in a better mindset. Arthur lets out the breath he has been holding.

“You can have my jacket if you want,” Lewis is offering, walking up to the railing, sounding more natural. Arthur notes that that drop down isn’t particularly steep, being more of an incline.

“Keep your jacket, you know I have a pack of extra clothes,” Vivi huffs, motioning them impatiently into a clump so she can take the picture. It is only somewhat uncomfortable. Good thing he’s practised smiling.

The rest of the drive goes smoothly with Arthur insisting that he return to sitting at the back, alone. It’s telling when Vivi doesn’t fight him on it, letting him retreat in peace. They lose three hours at another rest stop, this one bordering a wide forested area, when Vivi insists Mystery get a chance to stretch his legs. Arthur opts to sit in the bed of his van among their various bags, doors secure outward, giving him a view of Vivi and Lewis as they throw a ball for Mystery.

The fresh air, the smell of pine, and the gentle rustling of wind is familiar is a way he has come to expect, having lived similar scenarios on his previous road trips. What isn’t familiar is the creeping isolation and disconnection from Vivi and, to a lesser extent, Lewis. Sure, he had often felt left out and ignored in his original timeline, but it had never been so defined. Not that he can complain, this had been his goal after all.

Note: I swear this is going somewhere. Bear with me.

Part 16: here

#MSA #mystery skulls animated #fanfiction #fanfic #hellbent #time travel #au #Lewis pepper #ViVi #arthur kingsmen #mystery #this was only supposed to take 500 words #lament of a fanfic writer

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marcosoropoet · 7 years ago

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Lemon Cake ~

1. The way it works is I want a cup of hot black tea... not falling slowly, in reverse augmented reality money banquet begging rose vortex prizes in this cataclysmic rose-gold trick u look like a new weirder snapchat filter, wasn't it some high-up guy that stopped everything ((( the other day ))) to fix a cheeseburger emoji? legit muted chatter on the other moon @green geo-political stupor attracting pivoting magnetized crosshairs freezing blood cold, sangfroid, stalking the horror victim relentlessly — and I'm stuck in a trapezoid alone inside this very weird dream, and I don't want you to look at me... but at, this, in its place. "it's safe, you can show yourself now" —... is it me? that I can't see? a crackingly crazy dog with the animal terror look in (((the eyes))) bites down on cumulus cirrus myth, rains blood down configuring liquid glass fireball hush in place of a goofy smile myth you think you knew me you think you have a print-out of the dna blueprint... 2. Glock Terror Noir: "I beeped to you twice loud, right? That means I'm here, right? FUCK YOU YOU SHOULD BE OUTSIDE ALREADY! You stupid fuck!!!" "You got the gun?" It wasn't a lucid dream yet very vivid, hyper real. Everything cut out with sharp edges of colour. Everything cut out with a crimson jewel tone refraction of myriad bursting colours. 3. A thousand rabbit coins for one violet kiss. Goes to my head. Flipping through a magazine, seeing my name in black velvet lights. buzzkiller butcher spin. I took too many lashes. Clouds of dice, sky of black velvet. Humans made of pliable molecules, in upward sky and forward time prettiness trying to understand everything like always.stop. You can spot civilizations on any street. Cymbals erupt in metallic sonic splash. The fragrant steam of food. Hot sun in tearing eyes. We are navigated by the sun. Solar matrix. Solar head-trip. Solar juvenile expectations. 4. a crackingly crazy dog with the animal terror look in the eyes (((the eyes))) bites down on cumulus cirrus, rains blood down configuring liquid glass fireball hush of silent fire roar in place of a goofy smile you think you know me you think you have a print-out of the world ending in the cataclysmic baking of white light. Baking soda, YouTube. Everyone kept talking with no questions.questions simply wiped with a bright nano-sizzle. Lovely Laundry can do bright nano-sizzle for you no extra cost lovely laundromat is re-processing tape loop for you with no language so blank 5. I have cast iron bells and indigenous whistles. Cracks, fissures, broken bones cannot compare with a broken brain. The pop-open scenario of a greeting card is my 3-D gig. Yours you'll have to find.My dogfoot bathtub fills with ocean water, and reflects a useless boring world. Second-hand smoke and cracked mirrors. personality buzzes? A sucker punch kills the show. When we were just about to land on Jupiter, as injured caricatures of a newer generation. As mind-boggling freaks under my direction and fresh algorithm. artificial but our intellects welcome you to warm lovely laundry* As gallons of tutti-frutti body-wash explode from the tv screen. As silent, screened double agent doppelgangers clockwork entering the zero dome court, are announced in digital voice. As rocknroll would cool my warm forehead. As the black clouds came down a blanket. I am a liar and kept saying that they were violet. A street connection finally made, each party sauntered away in rain coming down hard. I stayed incognito, a complete unknown, some don't know jack about the public eye. But honeychild I'm on my own, on my best behavioral electrode. I don't talk so loud because nobody cares, and soft yellow applause is a small yellow bird, which gives me clunky goosebumps. anonymous content. white eyes, red sun. Can we cut a deal? I look upon the wavering reflection of my face in the pool of crushed light and abandoned darkness There I see myself so close to the eye it causes hallucinatory thought-speech. Knocking! ... I bought a big bouncing ball and soft yellow applause is a small yellow applause is a small yellow bird, White eyes, red sun. Can we cut a deal? I look upon the packed bowl of five alarm chili with a broken brain. The pop-open scenario of a greeting card is my 3-D gig. Yours I'll have five stores to find. My dogfoot bathtub fills with ocean water, and reflects dumpster cracked crackling gardenia candles... Mad thought-speech. Knocking. I'm bringing you a lemon cake, since I found out that you had just moved in the streets slant and distort because nobody cares, and some bubblegum welts. I bought a big bouncing ball and some shit for you when you was under the radar so don't fuck with me, next morning the liquid police rolled you away, I safekept your belt in the backpack with the interstellar interstate fused wet grey clouds dripping inky newsprint. Standing frozen, still, waiting for the newsprint and a cracked mirror. personality carries the buzz? You are naked in digital voice. As rocknroll would cool my warm forehead. As the black clouds came down a blanket. I am a liar and kept saying that they were green-gold. But they wasn't. A street dogs stands up.Gas station coffee, hazelnuts, driving through the tricky narrow brick-lined cobblestone alleys ))) kill the show. When we were just about to land on Jupiter, as injured caricatures of a newer generation. As mind-boggling freakshow, I stop the world to continue my friendship with ((( myself ))). You'll run for ointment, and take the bloody curtain with myself. I have no sense of time but have overgrown myself. I have cast iron bells, indigenous whistles, and fresh green pinwheels for y'all. Cracks; I stop the world ended in the street. Cymbals erupt in metallic sonic splash. The fragrant steam of food. Hot sun in tearing eyes. for a long time now. I ((( uh ))) actualize myself in the center of nowhere how is that? around the rusty tectonics of the picture in vivid blades of green country grass under brown cattle sinew, focus bright beam polished pyrite black shale mile Running on auto pilot projection of artificial gelatin intelligence resists rendering mass malfunction tremor gaping swallows. vacuum. blackhole. microcosm. more rapid imagery. helicopter. red propeller swings hard very quietly not making too much noise. too much scratch selfhelpbook many please tonight no. Not ever! Never in a million years. Cigar touting clowns, in formal barbed wire attire, and fiberglass Bow-Ties. Entire walls and windows covered in aluminum foil glaring eye of metallic skin; a searing spotlight blasting white rays of simple pure technology, propeller swings hard, hums loudly, large white-hot light hit /up! yes, fake-out in The Lovely Laundromat. very quietly not making too much scratch selfhelpbook many please tonight. solo bassiest sitar floated out from the quantum illusion, so I will display all of my pieces in the q u a n t u m i l l u s i o n of filmic boundary universe knife-edge time, timelessness evolves into the wind — I went to the portion where sparkling dust motes, in bright beams of day: no no I've ate already officer — ...these comments/moments.repeating fruity dripping reds ...would you like the egg soft boiled sir? The spy motions with his long 24K pinky nail. Bad mother persona places bitch's sister's sheltered elite urban mutation basement sector composite. Do not find me there please yesyes 451...451...451..., the siren shuffled its screeching fast — I went to the show instead of the money-crave zombie industry brand week, with its truly myriad iterations, a million jealous flashbulb moneyshots screeching fast. dry-ice frozen three dimensional pop clusterfuck strobes pulsating on grinding grin trashcan collage alley moneyshots of dry-ice frozen three dimensional strobes pulsating on grinding grin trashcan collage alley moneyshot font/color graffiti to boot grind down to grey ash, silt slides off of the sociopathic shelter, don't gimme no free-as-the-air mama depersonalization, baby forge a very practiced, precise, dark sycophant; thus having left many with a deep amazement, and an addiction to their smooth hiding inside whole icing not defaced, baby. A public building in the sea-tang background of a hallucinatory black shadow puppet eyelash one-off vortex, Radio:...day and night I sit at home and I cry, (1234), wonderin' maybe if this is too telling of the money-craving for some peripheral excitement. Choppers swoop down low with a searing spotlight blasting white rays of simple pure technology, propeller hard-flung repetitive sound, blue siren screech around the zombie We are controlling you away, I safekept your belongings in the street. Cymbals erupt in metallic sonic splash. The fragrant steam of food. Hot sun in tearing eyes. Inside, the gold mine candles, Prehensile party sauntered away into the goldmine's sweet cool air As gallons of tutti-frutti body-wash explode from the tv screen. As silent, screen.piano.blue smoke rising in the projector's beam.cyclops. As silent, screened double agent doppelgangers entering the liquid police rolled and navigated by the sun when you walk very gently you will see and define the desire to rise above grey rocks and sedimentary boulders, to hit and get cracked gardenia candle-flash hit of reminding flesh, the delicacy and myth. But if you storm through me, and stampede, you will be messing with me and lovely laundry takes great pleasure in you our lovely wet customer. I'll fall far to the other side of the room, and the screened double agent doppelgangers were entering volcano freeze-hold. perfume zoom flipping through cymbals erupt in metallic sonic splash of street festival band playing in fragrant steam of food. Hot sun in sparkling eyes. My dogfoot bathtub fills with ocean water, and reflects a useless boring world. Second-hand smoke and cracked mirrors. gallons of tutti-frutti body-wash explode from the tv screen. As silent, screened double agent doppelgangers entering the zero dome court, are announced in digital voice. I don't talk so loud because nobody cares, and soft yellow applause is a very small yellow bird, which gives me clunky goosebumps. anonymous content. white eyes, red sun.youtube.time jumps and dilates... Can we cut a deal? I look upon the wavering reflection of my face in the pool of crushed light and abandoned darkness. I'll cry stone tree myth, for every glittering blackeye unguent. There I see myself so close to the eye it causes hallucinatory thought-speech. Knocking. Why hello there"!" fake af, I'm bringing you a lemon cake, since I found out that you had just moved in today. Uh-huh, yeah (turns around and points) right there across the street, uh-huh, r i g h t t h e r e.

#lemon cake #marcos oro #abstract poetry #surreal collage poetry

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omg-big-data-blog · 5 years ago

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Why Artificial Intelligence? Can 3rd World Countries Learn?

Artificial Intelligence has produced a potent effect on the entire world. Currently machine learning has attained its innovative degree today we do not have to educate machines concerning the intricate tasks like text translation or picture recognition. This progress in both clinic, in addition to concept, has made machine learning potential. A vast assortment of businesses have changed and are succeeded in creating intelligence company programs to self-driving automobiles. There are a number of things that make us amazed caused by artificial intelligence.

Let us have a look at what Artificial Intelligence is?

Artificial Intelligence (A.I.) also referred to as Machine Intelligence isalso, as its name suggests: intellect that's shown by machines compared with all our known, ordinary intelligence revealed by humans and distinct animals. From its origin going back into the mid-year of 1956 at Dartmouth College, the term"Artificial Intelligence" was introduced by a group of mathematicians and researchers who was gotten out of a meeting to create new ideas by which ways that robots and machines could solve and simulate several challenges in society. From there, the curiosity about robots agreeing control over the planet (no matter whether for good or aversion) was delineated in popular culture and movies, especially in the old motion pictures from the 1970s. Artificial Intelligence has a broad assortment of progress, as an instance, rule-based and logical systems which enable computers and robots to handle problems. That artificial intelligence (AI) has become faster than previously is nothing surprising. Since 2010, it's developed at an alarming annual development rate of around 60%. Our Future Proof site has only talked about a substantial bunch of the results of the development. But while we could proceed about what artificial intelligence will want to our prospective, who correctly will create this artificial intelligence? Or , better still, what would be the states driving the AI transformation? With respect to AI, not all states are exactly the same. Here are the top five driving countries given the amount of research papers published every year. 1 - China, 2 - the United States of America, 3 - Japan, 4 - the United Kingdom and 5 - Germany.

Significance of Artificial Intelligence

The Accenture Institute for High Performance has released study discovering this, by 2035, human-made artificial intelligence (AI) could quickly enhance yearly financial growth rates in developed markets.

The analysis thought about economic outcome in Every output in 2035 below a standard position given present assumptions against a single signaling expected development when the impact of AI was absorbed into the market. In the UK, AI could incorporate an excess USD 814 billion into the market, expanding the annual development rate of GVA from 2.5 per cent to 3.9 percent. In the US, the yearly growth rate went up from 2.6 percent to 4.6 per cent - an additional USD 8.3 trillion in net worth comprised (GVA) with extensive AI appropriation included.

On the other hand, It's developing markets where AI Is likely going to get the monumental effect. We've entered a period where substantial innovation-driven shift is tethered to different challenges in creating monetary aspects. AI innovation, especially, has good level solid formative ramifications. There are numerous problems using such technologies. The base, for one, is not equipped for integrating all AI improvements, therefore it is not an example of designing something fresh and then dropping it into a growing market. But while the principal requirement must be to build infrastructure - electricity and agribusiness frameworks - next-generation telecoms to ensure AI may be properly used, there are various ways it can be implemented.

Three important areas can benefit out of Artificial Intelligence

1. Farming

There Are two issues for the vast majority of people in developing countries: access to water and food. Provide food, to sailors smallholder farms, should have the capability to produce sufficient. On the flip side, right now, test frame, and rural growth frameworks equipped for encouraging smallholder farms are sadly insufficient. AI is appropriate for enlarging the return of farmland beneath culturing in developing nations, together with machine learning calculations used as part of drone technologies to both crops and fertilize seeds in rate farther than human capabilities. Another use of AI for meals management in developing markets is identifying evidence of disease in plants so that they can be the more easily treated. A group of analysts in Penn State and also the Swiss Federal Institute of Technology (EPFL) have supported a method of PCs with over 53,000 photos of healthy and healthy plants hoping to comprehend specific plant diseases. The frame has owned the capability to recognize the 2 goods and ailments - from photos - using a precision speed of around 99.35%. Such innovation will provide the assumption to field-based crop-disease identifiable proof using phones.

2. Resource Provision

For NGOs and foundations, figuring out where resources are required is crucial to helping those in require. If reachable assets aren't suitably used, the deficit makes a larger imprint. This is just another zone where AI will help significantly. It may be used to determine how to split various facets in the meantime in a manner that individuals can not which may arise, state, where a lack could occur, what amount of people it's likely going to influence, and what's required to repay the situation. For example,'Harvesting' is a startup using machine figuring out how to split down satellite data of the Earth's surface. They're endeavoring to pinpoint areas needing a fascination with the water and apparatuses needed for cultivating to allow organizations to distribute cash more efficiently. CEO of machine learning startup Harvesting, Ruchit Garg, noted of AI that, ' We expect that in utilizing this innovation we would have the capacity to segregate such villages and farmers and have banks or governments move dollars to the right individuals.'

3. Healthcare

The Ebola infection wreak havoc on African individuals group, as many flare-ups have during the years. Due to Ebola, Barbara Han, a disease ecologist in the Cary Institute of Ecosystem Studies, said,'Utilizing machine learning strategies created for artificial intelligence, we could unite information from environment, biogeography, and general wellbeing to distinguish bat species with a high likelihood of harboring Ebola and different filoviruses. Understanding which species possess these infections, and where they are found, is basic to anticipating future spillovers. The preferred fundamental standpoint of Machine Learning is its capacity to manage complexities. With various factors communicating at one time, discoveries can be difficult to interpret. Machine Learning evades this. On this issue, Han says:'The research could not care less how the variables are conveying; its sole goal is to amplify prescient implementation. At the stage, human scientists could measure up' .

Machine learning innovation is the best method for understanding the spread of sickness, as well as giving alleviation. We are looking at future where machine learning could plausibly distinguish an infection, build up a cure, find where the outbreak is probably going to strike straightaway, and after that transport the treatment there in self-ruling vehicles, all with negligible human collaboration. There are numerous bridges to cross before this turns into a reality. Nonetheless, while AI in developed countries will have a remarkable effect, it could be essential for their exceptional survival, and it is crucial that everything is done to guarantee the framework is set up to exploit each advancement in the innovation.

Can 3rd world countries Learn?

Artificial Intelligence (AI) will be a "distinct advantage" in enhancing the lives of the world's poor, as indicated by the New York-based innovation business visionary Jack Hidary. He says the innovation expected to upset wasteful, inadequate food and social insurance frameworks in developing countries is well within grasp. AI will be a distinct advantage and advantage billions. Today two billion individuals in the world go hungry, so correcting the imbalanced dispersion of nourishment and managing the overall farming framework is a decent begin. Advances, for example, GPS have expanded the yield in created nations, however, have not been broadly utilized as a part of creating nations. Presently we can level that playing field with smartphones and access to the cloud.

"The Capability to enlarge the return of farmland beneath culturing in developing nations is a mission-basic test. I find that as indoors reach using these improvements. We have separate automatons for horticulture, for both taking seeds to the floor, and fertilizing." Numerous deaths in third-world countries are preventable. He anticipated that a gadget that appends to a cell phone and could take tests of blood, spit and pee would wind up accessible. It would tell the patient if they had illnesses as genuine as Zika, Ebola or Cholera.

There would be no compelling reason to send tests to a lab in the capital, which could take weeks. Rather, there would be a quick examination and medicine issued. Regularly the arrangement would be only a couple of pills or an infusion, getting to the individual to mind or detaching them. AI would speed that procedure and save numerous lives. Mr. Hidary included:"Applying AI to curative services is essential for the individuals of low-salary groups. Often in these lands, 1 health emergency decimates the whole household; each one of those funds could be dropped if a illness fells the supplier."

The disgrace of the third and second world countries lies in the way that the administration experts in these nations are not aware of doing things more astute, which maybe we as a whole concur. But another factor to a great extent adding to the circumstance is the pool of a legal philosophy to run an assortment of government offices or services. Poor funds or equipment, whatever is the situation, has influenced the third world issues to duplicate in years that could have overwhelmed with a legitimate methodology to adapt them. The expression "Developing Countries" has been utilized by numerous over the world to distinguish the nations that are still under the way toward making a mark economically. Systematically nation's economy chooses the classification of a country on the world guide.

Government authorities are not paying regard to a significant number of the issues looked by individuals in these countries. Rights are not secured; the ones underneath the neediness line are going further down under while the exclusive class is flourishing socially and monetarily. Out of a considerable lot of the social shades of malice in these social orders, the one that has sneaked in the most and harmed its very structure is debasement. Equity is sold in a large number of these countries, and no one deals with poor people and delicate strata of the general public while the capable appreciate submitting debasements of various structures and liberating from all contribution. It is an inconsistency that this threat has obliterated each part in these countries. A risk to the general public, debasement has, all things considered, made each administration association tumble from its elegance, and no one feels wrong about it.

Indeed, even In services and bureaus of state,'lack of thought' and'NO Will to alter' is the main reason for such a pitiful situation. Wellbeing, Finance, instruction, railroadtrack, shared assets, each one of those branches is Being used for their own additions. None of the resources and fees paid From the nationals is placed to a good use from the different sections. No Appropriate frame is made available to the experts with the Goal they can have a shot sicknesses and their medications. People can not get a valid remedy for the minor disorders in Numerous such states. From the schooling division, caliber is crumbling With every passing year. Nothing, in Fact, was completed to take care Of the numerous setups such as railroads, roads and all of the Developments and transportation are within an unremarkable state if Contrasted those along with also the generated or even semi-developed nations.

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hansolmates · 8 years ago

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wonwoo; days in the sun

part 1/? of svt!disney au inspired by this thread

feat. beast!Wonwoo x bibliophile!reader (FINALLY WROTE A WONWOO!!)

genre: beauty and the beast au, fluff/romance, slight flangst

word count: 2123

Snow dipped between the crevices of the hand-painted French windowpane, thousands of scintillating diamonds icing against the frosted glass. The snowflakes further out melted instantaneously upon meeting the cobblestone of the castle. She briefly wondered how exactly warm this castle was from the inside, considering from the outside the tower much resembled a memento mori in their iota of a desolate kingdom.

Her nails dragged away with a subconscious slowness from the glass as she backed away from the window, turning her head to her sleeping patient.

The Beast, in all aspects of the title, left kids restless and the elderly quaking like dead leaves in their slippers. These past couple of weeks however, have left her mind spinning like a wind-up music box, surreal and never-ending. The night before, the Beast in his infamous glory, saved her and her horse from a pack of vicious wolves. She was unscathed, however at the expense of the Beast’s shoulder marred to shreds, the matted dusk hair ripped apart to reveal tender pink flesh. The skin healed at a magically impressive rate thank goodness, but the raw skin appeared with a heart-breaking familiarity, the way a newborn human’s complexion would appear from the womb, full of life and hope.

It’s his fault she reasoned to herself, it’s his fault he’s injured. He shouldn’t have tried to save me when I was trying to run away from him!

But if it wasn’t for him, she’d probably wouldn’t be alive to complain at this very moment. With a torn huff she plopped in the small stool next to his bedside, fiddling with the hem of her pale azure skirt. Holding a palm to cover the sunlight that was blinding her eyes from the window opposite, she recited her favorite novel to keep her occupied.

“It is a truth universally acknowledged—”

“What in high heavens are you doing?”

The once familiar words died like cinders in her throat as she watched the Beast shuffle in the sheets to a fitful awakening. The wooden bed frame creaked and groaned in protest as the Beast attempted to sit himself up.

Flying from her chair, she propped up some pillows and tucked them under his large form, causing the down feather to crush like breadcrumbs under the immense weight. Fetching a glass of water from the nightstand, she pressed the cool glass to his lips until all the liquid was gone. “Are you alright?” she asked, watching him for any signs of pain.

“I’m fine,” he replied, his gravely voice echoing throughout the large bedroom. “But you still didn’t answer my question. What are you doing?”

Furrowing her brows together she replied pointedly, “I was trying to orate a passage from my favorite novel when you so rudely interrupted me.”

He scoffed, the low growl haunting her form in ways that the people of her town would never be able to define. “Good thing I did.”

Liquid fire burned in her eyes, more than ready to defend herself in the only activity which kept her sane: literature. “Excuse you, If you knew anything about a good book you wouldn’t dare insult the first lines of Austen’s greatest work! It is a truth universally acknowledged—”

“That a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.” he drolled with an eyeroll, throwing the sheets off his form. “However little known the feelings and blah blah blah.”

She couldn’t even process the that he was treating her favorite novel like a piece of moldy cheese, due to the sheer fact that he had memorized the same lines she used to spend hours aching over. Her anger melted away in an instant, excited tingles shivering up her spine at the fact that finally there was someone to talk about Pride and Prejudice to. “Wait, you’ve read Jane Austen?” she asked, her lips parted in awe.

If the Beast could smirk, he didn’t show the small smugness that wormed to his form as he faced the window. He had her attention. “More of had her novels shoved into my brain a couple eons over. Sense and Sensibility was particularly difficult to swallow.” he noted bitterly, getting into a standing position. She was about to hold him steady when he wobbled on his hinds, but he held up a paw to stop her. “I’m fine. But you look a little disturbed, are your worried that I’m challenging your intellect?”

Her mouth parted in surprise, “Are you trying to tease me?” she asked incredulously.

The Beast shrugged half-heartedly in response, motioning for her to follow him.

Instead of following his tracks, she made it a show to walk side-by-side. It was particularly enerving, because his strides were terribly long and she was terribly small in comparison to his form. But she made sure to take note that this room was indeed too large as they walked farther from the canopy bed, almost a quarter of this castle’s East Wing, and it made her subconsciously calculate exactly how mad he had gone all these years living in such a lonely castle.

Her eyes trained on the door that was in the innermost side of the bedroom, away from the room’s main entrance. It was a beautifully painted door, with carved silver bands intertwined between the edges and emeralds lining the knobs. The Beast took no cause to her intent staring and pushed the door with a deliberate slowness. It creaked from lack of use, but nevertheless opened, the light letting in like a fond friend.

The Beast moved aside, nodding his head to let her enter first. It was common courtesy to let a the lady inside first, but a little part of him regretted that lesson as soon as he heard her gasp echo throughout the room. It was like her air had filled into his heart and made it as whole as it could possibly be, he wished he could have seen her reaction.

The castle library. Her fingers that were once ruffled between her apron were now openly fussing against her sides, itching to hold a novel. But there were tens, hundreds, no thousands! There were ladders that spanned three tiers of shelves, the white French windows were letting in light like a beacon as they reflected over the lacquered wood and gold-trimmed spines.

“Are you alright?” the Beast asked, his chest feeling lighter as her face lit up through every facet of the book-lined walls. “You look, overwhelmed.”

She snapped her head to his, biting her lip. “I’m, fine. I’m quite fine, actually.” she managed to blurt out, her voice strained with excitement.

“Then why aren’t you picking something out?”

“I don’t even know where to start.” she couldn’t help but gush, turning away to spin across the atrium of the library.

“Well, you can start with the basics.” and he bounded over to the first shelf in the line, pulling out a novel and pressing it to her eager arms.

Her brows quirked in surprise. “This, is a romance.” she remarked, hiding her grin by holding the play up to her lips.

If it were possible, he’d be blushing profusely. “It’s a tragedy.” he replied pointedly.

“It’s Romeo and Juliet.”

“Exactly.” he said, pulling out two more novels and placing it on the nearby desk. “Rushed relationships and suicide are definitely tragic.”

“I didn’t peg you as a romance lover.”

“I didn’t think you’d peg me to be much of anything to you.”

The playful retort stuck in her throat as she watched him turn away in shame, fussing over the books and removing the layers of dust with puffs of air. Her curiously ached to be fed, and she settled with a question. “Have you really read all these books?” she asked quietly, so quiet as if the echoes in her voice could dampen the sheer perfection of the library.

“More times than you can imagine.” he placed two more books on the desk, looked down at her petite form. “If you like this place so much, it’s yours.” and if his large teeth could allow the small smile that wormed its way onto his mouth, it was there.

This room was like a new side to the Beast that she could have never imagined. And he said it was hers! Her eyes widened in shock, the grip on the novel white-tight. “Mine?” she whispered airily, unable to find her voice.

“Yes, and if you’ll excuse me,” he coughed awkwardly, turning on his heel. “I must get some rest. Feel free to explore the room, and there’s—”

“Thank you, Wonwoo.”

His pupils dilated, not that he knew the nature of his eyes would indicate any sign of him feeling more than the despondent emotions of sadness and anger. This was far more overwhelming, far more confusing than any other feeling he had ever experienced in all his years. “You’re welcome.” he murmured, straightening his back.

“I’ll see you at dinner, Wonwoo.” she said it again, said his name. She said it so easily, and treated it like the sweetest of honeys. No Prince Jeon Wonwoo or any other silly title his blood had to account for, but simply Wonwoo.

He could only manage a nod of his head and turned around before he could ask to stay with her. This was more than enough for now, more than he could have ever asked for. He let the door open a crack, and waited. In a matter of seconds, he had to fight the chuckle that wanted to bubble as he heard her excited squeal echo throughout the library.

From the other side, she felt like a little kid in a patisserie, free to pick the confection her choosing. She stumbled like a newborn over the thousands of books in hundreds of languages, smiling so much it hurt. It wasn’t until she got to the very back of the library (which was a feat in itself) she had to stop because her feet were starting to ache. Digging her toes in the hardwood, her eyes gravitated to the only part of the library that wasn’t covered in books. Instead, they were filled with portraits.

It was a wonder of fate that she was eye-to-eye with the single portrait of Jeon Wonwoo. The painting was almost too regular next to the broad family pictures that spanned the brittle walls, but nevertheless stood out to her like she was already meant to know what he looked like before all of this ever occurred. Her hands rested on the cherry dyed table that separated her from the portrait, and she had to lean her face centimeters from the picture to get a good focus on his image.

Wonwoo was conventionally handsome in another life. Dressed in stiff sleeves that were too puffy and pants in an incredibly tight and outdated fashion, the corner of the portrait was signed a number of years ago and lended to the time this portrait was conceived. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine Wonwoo reading these books in the nooks and crannies of the shelves. The ebony hue of his bangs falling over his face, his liquid oakwood eyes filled with innocence and a drive to learn boring into the pages until he fell asleep slumped against the desks. Today, she saw this version of Wonwoo. The handsome look that took over his features when he pulled out his favorite books, and the enjoyment he got out of sharing his favorites to someone who’d appreciate reading as much as he did.

She didn’t realize the mantle clock hiding between the yellowed papers of the desk until it popped out like a little firecracker, dancing in her line of view and blocking the portrait. She squeaked in surprise, clutching her chest.

“Soonyoung!” she cried, mentally willing for her cheeks to cool down. “Were you here all this time?”

The little clock scratched jumped in agreement. “Yeah. So, dinner?” it teased excitingly, little wooden pads dancing against the desk.

Her blush only got to a rapid-fire warmth at the realization he was watching her openly staring at Wonwoo’s portrait, and overheard their conversation. “It’s just dinner.” she huffed, smacking him none-too-gently with the copy of Romeo and Juliet. She couldn’t help the mischievous smirk when its hands spun in circles, until falling back in the stationary place of 10:10. That’s the consequences of eavesdropping. “Now, if you’d excuse me I have some reading to do.”

The enchanted clock watched in awe as he watched the castle’s belle ami saunter away into the sunlit area of the library, with a little more pep in her step than the way she walked away from them last night. “A little more than just dinner.” he proudly declared to himself, puffing out his clock face. With a nod towards Prince Wonwoo’s portrait, he hobbled off the counter with the intent to tell the others of what wondrous events have just occurred in their Prince’s time of healing.

More than books, more than dinner, in fact there may have been something there that wasn’t there before.

#wonwoo #seventeen #kwritersnet #svtcreations #svtnetwork #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo fic #jeon wonwoo #seventeen scenarios #disney au #seventeen disney au #seventeen headcanon #wonwoo headcanon

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deathchrist2000 · 7 years ago

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The Herpes-Like Persistence...: On Fight Club 2, Grant Morrison, and the Dark Enlightenment

AN: For some of these comics, the pagination is reset at the end of each issue. As such, the in text citations will be done as follows: (Authors’ Last Name, Issue Number (if applicable), Page Number(s), Panel Number(s)).

Sections:

I. The Only Sensible Way II. Abstraction and Radiant Chaos III. Short, Boring, Insignificant Lives IV. Powers and Destinies V. The White Lie VI. Hello Babies VII. I Was Angry

“Rereading Final Crisis makes it so clear that “comics history as a wizard duel between Alan Moore and Grant Morrison” makes perfect sense, and moreover it might just be the only sensible way to interpret ANY of this stuff.”-Sam Keeper, 2017

In 1996, author Chuck Palahniuk wrote Fight Club, a novel about, among other things, the relationship between toxic masculinity and fascist patriarchy through the lens of mental illness. In terms of plot, the nameless narrator tells us of his relationship with a man named Tyler Durden, an anarchist who starts Fight Clubs (where men can punch each other in the face while nearly naked) throughout the US, which grow into sleeper cells for his cult, Project Mayhem. The twist is that Tyler and the narrator are one and the same, ending with the narrator shooting himself to symbolically kill Tyler. It was adapted into a motion picture by David Fincher in 1999 and was acclaimed when it arrived on DVD inspiring many people to start their own Fight Clubs. In 2015, Palahniuk, along with artist Cameron Stewart, created a comic book sequel to his novel, which was aptly called Fight Club 2: The Tranquility Gambit. The sequel tells a purportedly simpler story of a semi-dysfunctional pair of parents trying to save their son from a madman with plots of world destruction. To help them along the way, Chuck Palahniuk inserts himself and his editors into the comic to push the plot forward when it gets stuck.

There are many ghosts that haunt this text (including the reaction to both Fight Club and Fight Club), but one in particular holds the key to understanding what Palahniuk is doing with his comic. In her reviews of the series, Emma Houxbois cited several instances within Fight Club 2 where the influence of noted comic writer and professional wanker Grant Morrison was felt. Specifically, she talks about the way in which Palahniuk inserts himself within the narrative to do the opposite approach of Morrison’s self insert characters, “portraying himself as being dragged into the story by late night calls from Tyler and the kidnapping of one of the dogs owned by a woman in his writing group. When Marla walks into the writing group Palahniuk is reading aloud a version of that scene where Marla enters the room and asks him if he’s God, but she doesn’t do that in this conversation.” (Houxbois)

This is of course not the only invocation of Morrison within the text; in fact one could simply create a collage of images from Fight Club 2 and connect them to various works of Grant Morrison (most obviously, Fig. 1 where, if one reverses the dialogue in the Morrison panel and reads it phonetically, they both essentially say the exact same thing). But there is more to the text and its relationship with Grant Morrison than a mere interest in similar ideas.

Indeed, to anyone familiar with the work of Morrison, the elevator pitch of a person with mental issues trying to salvage a life in an ever growingly mad world might sound eerily familiar. It would be easy to spend this essay going through the anxiety of influence and highlighting where these influences show up the most. But that wouldn’t answer the question of why use this anxiety of influence over, say, the work of David Fincher. As such, Fight Club 2 uses its anxiety of influence towards Grant Morrison (via nicking one of his basic plot lines (among other things)) to reflect the ways in which society has shifted because of the release of Fight Club and Fight Club. But to do that, we must first understand what exactly a Grant Morrison story is.

“We live in a world of abstraction and radiant chaos, and meaning and symbolism is the mental trick we use to make sense of it all. Life is performative living, and we all have our own masks to wear and plays to act out.”-Josh Marsfelder, 2016

Or rather, what kind of Grant Morrison comic this is, and to find out what that is, we must first look at a work by Grant Morrison himself. In many ways, Fight Club 2 has the feel of Morrison’s early work, with its interest in direct metafiction and bravado. One could argue that the aforementioned cited Flex Mentallo: Man of Muscle Mystery1 would fit the bill, as it also deals in themes of the power of ideas and masculinity. However Fight Club 2 deals in the grotesque in ways that Flex Mentallo does not. One Morrison work that does is that of The Mystery Play.

Released in 1994, The Mystery Play is notable for being considered the most willfully obtuse text in the entirety of Morrison’s oeuvre. As Greg Carpenter describes in The British Invasion! Alan Moore, Neil Gaiman, Grant Morrison, and the Invention of the Modern Comic Book Writer, “The book is a carnival for the intellect—combining literary playfulness and subtlety, implying thousands of meanings while dictating none,” (Carpenter, 246) a more celebratory reaction compared to his compatriot, Patrick Meaney, who claims ”The Mystery Play has some interesting themes and exciting moments, but ultimately it fails to coalesce into something more than the sum of its ideas.” (Meaney) This is despite having a relatively simplistic plotline compared to most of Morrison’s work: an actor in a small town representing God in a play has been murdered and a detective must solve the case.

On the one hand, this confusion could be due to the structure of the text. Rather than a straightforward detective narrative where each clue leads into the next until a criminal is revealed, The Mystery Play takes on a more anthropological approach wherein “…everything that happens in the vicinity of a murder has some significance” (Morrison and Muth, 23, 3). Such things include a perverted mayor who has sex with a mannequin, a minister dealing with the realization that God is dead, a town that’s on the brink of madness, an abandoned house in the middle of the woods, and the detective himself, who is not who he says he is.

Combined with Morrison’s status as “the confusing author” within the comics community, and it becomes apparent why people have found this to be a discouraging text to follow on a surface level, despite in actuality being a very simple story to follow. Large chunks of the story, for instance, are hallucinations on the part of the detective. Take special note to Fig. 2, where the detective interviews the actor playing the devil. Note especially the first panel in the given sequence, where the detective is portrayed with the proportions of a small child while still appearing to be an adult, indicating aspects of his mental state within the text. Also, over the course of the sequence, the actor turns from a human being (Morrison and Muth, 33, 3) to the literal devil (Morrison and Muth, 34, 1). As such, we are clearly dealing with a person with some level of mental health issues as our viewpoint character, and thus some scenes (like the one with the woman who has eyelashes for eyes eating a giant spider (Morrison and Muth, 44-45)) are to be read as such.2

Alternatively this confusion could be due to the art of the book. Unlike most works written by Morrison, where even works like The Filth take on a more pop aesthetic3, The Mystery Play has a painted quality to it. Unlike most painted comics such as the work of Alex Ross that take on a realist approach, Jon J. Muth’s art takes on a more expressionistic style. Take for example, Fig. 3, where the two lead characters are walking to an abandoned house. The characters themselves appear to be drawn with the least amount of details. They blend into the background, like a drop of paint. The world that surrounds them is murky and low on color (a quality shared by Fight Club 2, though in different ways), as befits a mystery about who killed God.

Note also the framing of the characters within the panels. Where the panels remain basic boxes, the characters are framed in every panel save the last one at odd angles. This is especially notable in panel 3, which has the characters framed in a crooked window that blots out the edges of the panel and turns it into the panel. This is especially notable considering what is being discussed in these panels: the detective is talking to a reporter about why he is involved in the case. It turns out that he isn’t a detective at all, but rather an escaped mental patient who is using this murder to figure out who he truly is. “I was somebody else once. I… I… don’t think I was a very good person” he claims “I’m trying to put the smashed pieces of that bad man back together again, to make a good man. If I can solve the murder it’ll prove I can do it.” (Morrison and Muth, 57, 1)

And that line is where the main crux of a Grant Morrison story lies: one of the core narratives of his work is that of a person with some mental issues (be they literal, like his Batman work, or metaphorical, as is the case of Seven Soldiers: Shining Knight) working through them via throwing themselves into a strange mad world. This can lead to various outcomes ranging from the optimistic “Sod this Sci-Spy bollocks, I just want to take care of my pet cat” ending of The Filth to The Mystery Play’s more cynical “You’re a fucking pedophile and child killer who needs to be crucified.”

“Humans just lead short, boring, insignificant lives, so they make up stories to feel like they’re a part of something bigger. They want to blame all the world’s problems on some single enemy they can fight, instead of a complex network of interrelated forces beyond anyone’s control.”-Raven Molisee and Paul Villeco, 2014

So how does all of that apply directly to the plot of Fight Club 2? To begin with, let’s look at our nameless protagonist, predominately referred to as “Sebastian” (fig. 4), and his alter ego, Tyler Durden (fig. 5) (note the distinction in how they look. “Sebastian” looks to have aged poorly, balding prematurely, and paler due to the placebos he’s taking. Tyler, meanwhile, looks to have not aged in the 10 years he’s been gone). The thing about Tyler is that most readings of the text of the original Fight Club novel and the motion picture Fight Club have him be a split personality of “Sebastian.” In the sequel however, for reasons we will get to, Palahniuk opts for Tyler to be more of a metaphor for a mental illness than a straightforward mental illness.

There are, of course, multiple ways the comic coveys this metaphor. Most obviously (besides Tyler) is in the way we see the comic. For the most part, Cameron Stewart organizes the panels in a straightforward manner of rectangles and other basic shapes, however they are typically overtaken by various household items such as roses, pills, and sperm, which in turn cover up various pieces of exposition and images. Take, for example, fig. 6, wherein various members of Project Mayhem, the cult Tyler started ten years back to bring about a massive social change, have taken blood-thinning drugs before heading to a museum where they will slit their wrists upon various pieces of art as a form of protest. One of the pills they have taken cover each of the members faces, dehumanizing the characters from us, and in turn showing us how a person like Tyler sees the rest of us.

Additionally, Fight Club 2 argues that Tyler Durden is a sentient idea that has infected generations of “Sebastian’s” male ancestry into being sex-crazed hedonists who would breed over countless generations to create the purest form of Tyler Durden4 (Palahniuk and Stewart, 8, 2, 1-2). Aside from being one of the methods through which Morrison conveys the concept of mental illness, this is also an example of a mystical concept Morrison coined known as the “Hypersigil.” “The ‘hypersigil’ or ‘supersigil’ develops the sigil concept beyond the static image and incorporates elements such as characterization, drama and plot. The hypersigil is a sigil extended through the fourth dimension… The hypersigil is an immensely powerful and sometimes dangerous method for actually altering reality in accordance with intent. Results can be remarkable and shocking.” (Morrison, 21)

The Hypersigil is a concept that Palahniuk tangles with throughout the comic. Though only implicitly, as when confronted with the idea of Tyler essentially being unkillable in the book (because of course Palahniuk is a character in this book, this is a Grant Morrison pastiche after all), he responds by banging his head on the table and declaring “I can’t. Try removing Santa Claus from the cultural landscape.” (Palahniuk and Stewart, 8, 2, 4-7) In fact, this is not just an idea Palahniuk leaves to the world of the comic, as there is an explicit attempt to differentiate the comic characters from those of the film (even in parts that are explicitly invoking scenes from the film (Palahniuk and Stewart, 10, 25, 2)). None of the returning characters have the likenesses of Brad Pitt, Edward Norton, Helena Bonham Carter, Meat Loaf (though that one’s easy considering he has no head in the comic), Jared Leto (also easy because he looks like Jared Leto should look like if we lived in a fair and just world: “His skin was encrusted with dark-red scabs, each barely clinging to cover an oozing sore. This is who Sebastian would be if he’d gone to Fight Clubs each week for the past decade” (Palahniuk and Stewart, 4, 20)), or Rachel Singer (perhaps the easiest since she looks like a child with Progeria Syndrome in the comic). By rejecting the surface level invocations of actor likenesses, Palahniuk is able to highlight the ideas that the hypersigil of Tyler Durden represents.

And yet, the comic also explicitly invokes the film at several points. One example of which can be found in fig. 8, wherein Marla and Chloe, “Sebastian’s” wife and a fellow faker of terminal illnesses respectively, go out to find where various possible emanations of Fight Club could be (including Bite Club, Film Club, and Raw Fuck Club), each of which, while not being what they needed to find, were inspired directly by the original Fight Club (“Wait-- There was a book?” one of the characters, who bears a striking resemblance to friend of Palahniuk, Kelly Sue DeConnick, asks (Palahniuk and Stewart, 10, 13, 8)). But a more direct example comes during an explanation of Tyler being a sentient idea (a synonym for a hypersigil) with deadly results (as told via a parable called “Werther Fever,” where countless young men committed suicide after reading the book The Sorrows of Young Werther by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (Palahniuk and Stewart, 7, 6-8)), which is via a showing of Fight Club and what it inspired (fig. 9), thereby showing the power of the sigil. This, of course asks the question: Who would be infected by the hypersigil? Or, in other words: What kind of people would go around and start a Fight Club?

“I stole Vauung’s name because it was unused, on the basis of an exact qabbalistic entitlement. Yet, at least ‘up’ here, Vauung still confuses itself with me, with ruins and tatters. This might change. Names have powers and destinies.”-Nick Land, 2007

Coined by Curtis Yarvin under the pen name “Mencius Moldbug,” the Neoreactionary movement is essentially the intellectual end of the alt-right. They argue “…for things like the reestablishment of absolute monarchy (Moldbug suggests Steve Jobs would be a good choice of kings) and slavery (he also suggests that black people are genetically predisposed towards making good slaves).” (Sandifer, Haunt) The movement, germinated over the course of 30 years of the Internet being dictated by men whose idea of interesting stories consists of the technical specs of spaceships and massive amounts of violence and vile cruelty done by childhood heroes like Batman, Captain Picard, and Pinkie Pie, is notable for their successful ventures including hijacking a minor literary award5, terrorizing various women over the course of a few years6, and electing a real estate mogul into the office of President7. Aside from Moldbug, their main intellectual through line comes in the form of academic philosopher turned Cthulhu cultist Nick Land. Unlike Moldbug, who views the movement in a more “utopian” light, Land sees the movement as not so much “… ‘correct’ in any sense, but rather a sort of cynical pragmatism that views reactionary tendencies as an inevitable force that can be harnessed productively for his larger goal of accelerating toward the bionic horizon where we all grow face tentacles.” (Sandifer, Haunt) In short, the neoreactionary movement is perhaps the definitive proof that the imagined future we are living in isn’t so much 1984 (as argued by people who have never read 1984), The Handmaid’s Tale (as argued by more sensible people), or Neuromancer (as argued by less sensible, but somewhat more accurate, people), but Southland Tales8.

Indeed, the medium of film appears to be a massive influence upon the movement, as shown by its two most obvious invocations. The first of which, and perhaps the most blatant, would be that of The Matrix9.

But perhaps less obviously, and more pertinent to this essay, would be the influence of Fight Club. The influence comes from the film’s “assertion” that society is flawed and needs to be destroyed; specifically, elements that try to suppress the more masculine aspects of men like punching each other. This leads to a violent rebellion on the part of the members of Fight Club, culminating in the destruction of western capitalism. Though the neoreactionary movement isn’t completely a sausage factory, the appeal of society not giving you what you want and responding with cruelty is an apt, if simplistic, description of one aspect of the neoreactionary movement.

It is this reaction towards Fight Club that pushed Palahniuk to write Tyler Durden into a sentient idea in Fight Club 2. The fact that many people saw Durden as a revolutionary symbol to tear down western democracy terrified Palahniuk and so he wrote a story about how the idea of Tyler Durden infected the world and turned it into what it is. Durden recruits several newer members via a video game company known as Rize or Die, much like the army does (Palahniuk and Stewart, 3, 20, 1-4), expanded the organization to include female members10 (Palahniuk and Stewart, 4, 9-11). Additionally, there is talk of how they will be kings of this new world (Palahniuk and Stewart, 8, 14, 3) with the implication that the imperfect, lesser races will be exterminated (Palahniuk and Stewart, 9, 22, 2). To do this, Tyler plans to launch a series of nukes across the world, killing everyone, save his acolytes, protected by a series of salt mines. This will leave a fascist paradise sprung from the collective imagination of the neoreactionaries (well, without the face tentacles, but it’s still very super villain evil).

Of course, given that the neoreactionary reading of Fight Club is perhaps one of the poorest surface level readings you could make of the film, this is all a feint. In actuality, Durden simply takes the structural and surface level appeal of the movement (a tactic used in the past to create Fight Club in the first place out of the structural and surface level appeal of support groups, but with lots more punching (Olson)) to lure the kind of people such an organization would appeal to, “…like a roach motel. Genocidal Neo-Fascists check in, but they don’t check out.” (Palahniuk and Stewart, 10, 9, 4-5) This is accomplished by having the castle11 under which the salt mines were blown up, causing a cave-in that would kill everyone hiding beneath them. This, in turn, makes the comic’s argument one in which neoreactionary politics must be exterminated.

"While things and connections should be encouraged to become clear, they should not perhaps hold out expectations of becoming, once and for all, 'perfectly clear'- an idiom which has all too often served as a code for the white lie."-Avital Ronell, 1994

And yet, Fight Club 2 doesn’t kill everyone. In the final chapter of the comic, after Palahniuk explained to his friends and fellow writers his idea for the ending, a swarm of angry Fight Club fans that are not terrible people, come over to Palahniuk’s house to collect his head. They liked Durden because “He’s a sociopathic killing machine… But in his nihilistic way, Tyler is a big-time optimist.” (Palahniuk and Stewart, 10, 12, 11) And, there’s an appeal to a film that ends with the toxic ideal form of manhood being shot in the face, leading to a more healthy form to inherit the world, newly freed from the chains of late capitalism’s excesses.

Palahniuk retorts that Fight Club had a different ending. There was no great apocalypse that razed the world, no flaccid penis cut in between frames, no Pixies song: just a person who thought he couldn’t be redeemed, being forgiven by those he hurt and given the opportunity to be better. The response of the crowd is surprise at there being a book in the first place, much to the chagrin of Palahnuik’s editors. The fans and Palahniuk’s cohorts agree to forgive Palahniuk for his crap ending and make a better one, where everyone lives on to be better people12.

In a way, this is how most Morrison stories end as well: an appeal for the belief that no one is unforgivable (fig. 11), that we can all be better. Sure, I personally prefer the ending Palahniuk provides in theory (mainly because I don’t care for racist assholes who want to kill me for being, among other things, autistic (that, and watching Dick Spencer being punched in the face is hilarious)); thematically the “true” ending works better for this story because the alternative is too rude to bare. In the end, Chuck Palahniuk gets the last word on this whole sordid affair, which implicitly state (in his own words) that we are all at the whims of the ideas/hypersigils that surround us: (fig. 12).

“Hello babies. Welcome to Earth. It’s hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It’s round and wet and crowded. On the outside, babies, you’ve got a hundred years here. There’s only one rule that I know of babies- ‘God damn it, you’ve got to be kind.’”-Kurt Vonnegut Jr., 1965

Then again, there’s fig. 13 to consider. In the final pages of the story, Palahniuk reveals that Marla’s pregnant with Tyler’s child, indicating the truest form of Tyler, plausibly free from the chains of toxic masculinity and neoreactionary ideologies. Tyler is ecstatic after hearing the news, looking forward to the immortality humans are allowed. However Palahniuk, a bit too cocky for his own good, cites a deleted scene from Fight Club, where Marla says, “Someday, I want to have your abortion.” (Palahniuk and Stewart, 10, 25, 2) He even tells this to Tyler… before he’s gotten around to writing it.

Tyler retorts by shooting his creator in the back of the head, evoking a previous page where “Sebastian’s” head explodes with items of modernity. Unlike with the previous page, the narration complains about “All his secondhand set-ups, his yard sale pay-offs, and cheap Ikea plot twists…” (Palahniuk and Stewart, 10, 26, 1) The superior readings of Fight Club trump the “authorial” intent of an easy ending where everyone is forgiven. Instead, all things are subject to change. Redemption comes not from being forgiven, but from working to better yourself afterwards. Ultimately, these are the consequences of working from a Grant Morrison structure: change is inevitable and will eat the old. But there’s a level of optimism to change within a Morrison text. For if the structure of a Morrison story has anything to say about being compared to Fight Club 2, it’s that the new idea of Tyler Durden will be better than the old one.13

“Of course I was angry. I didn’t understand how anybody could look at the world and not be angry”-William Blake, 2014

Footnotes:

1) An autobiographical work about Morrison’s first bit of magic where he turned a bottle of pills into M&Ms. 2) As for the murder of God, note the lines “Sometimes I look at the world, you know, and wonder if God put us here to be the instruments of his death. Like we’re his death wish. He can’t stand the horror of what he is and what he’s done. He can’t feel pain or remorse. He… He’s just waiting and praying for us to grow strong enough to kill him and make him feel what we feel…” (Morrison and Muth, 58, 5-6), which is a common theme of Morrsion’s work twisted into a cruel interpretation of itself. Two years later, Flex Mentallo would be released, in which a fictional character comes into the real world and meets his creator, who is on the verge of dying of a drug overdose. There was no note in the comic, just a few comics lying around. 3) Though in The Filth’s case, it’s more Diamond Dogs than Labyrinth. 4) Consider fig. 7, where Tyler details the process by which “Sebastian” was bred. In the background of the page, we see a dead tree, with branches cross cutting each other, invoking the imagery of a family tree as well as indicating how the breeding tends to end for the parents (the comic already established that the idea of Tyler would have the kid he was possessing burn down the family home while the parents were asleep). Surrounding the tree are various panels of the life of “Sebastian’s” ancestors, which tell of the life they led before their untimely death. There are also various covers created for the series, connecting what Tyler did to Sebastian to the experiences of his ancestors. Also there are various amounts of sperm raining down upon the comic. Given that the sperm dietetically affects the page via degrading the color of the page, indicating both the sexual nature of Tyler’s conception and invoking the mystical concept of sigils, a form of mysticism used by Morrison wherein one focuses on an image in order to bring it into existence, sometimes involving masturbation (Morrison, 19). 5) 2015 and 2016 Hugo Awards 6) #gamergate 7) Peter Thiel, a key member of the presidential transition team, has been linked with the neoreactionary movement (MacDougald), though the expectation was that the current president would be a signal boost to see who the neoreactionaries should call when their real candidate, presumably Thiel, would be ready to run against Clinton in 2020. Evidentially, we live in the worst of all possible worlds. 8) The aspect of the film invoked by the neoreactionary movement is that of the Neomarxists, a tech based organization that simultaneously plots to destroy the government while also being connected to one of the government’s technology advisors, a private eccentric multi-billionaire7 (Marcus). 9) Specifically, in the form of the concept of the “Red Pill.” Nicked from Men’s Rights Advocates, red pilling refers to “the idea that the neoreactionary argument is an inevitable process, and that once you take the pill you cannot be unconvinced.” (Sandifer, Basilisk, 72) (This is of course, quite humorous (especially the MRA angle), given that if one actually pays attention to The Matrix, and especially to those who created it, it becomes apparent that the red pill is, in fact, estrogen. Equally, the invocation of The Matrix brings us back to Morrison in that, along with Snow Crash, Ghost in the Shell, and an undergraduate level philosophy course, many have claimed the film was partially inspired by the Morrison comic The Invisibles. In a web chat interview, the sisters claimed that, while they did like the comic, it was not an influence (Wachowski).) 10) Note fig. 10, which highlights how the house Quilt Club takes place is near identical to the headquarters of Project Mayhem, if cleaned up a bit (Houxbois). Equally, they’re still extremely and predominately white. 11) Because of course an evil super villain would have a castle. You have to keep with the aesthetics. 12) In a cheeky moment, they walk all the way there, much to Palahnuik’s annoyance, who at least wants some good weather, to which Cameron Stewart obliges (fig. 14). 13) Yes, I said The Mystery Play ended cynically, but there’s an optimism in that it’s unclear in the comic as to whether or not the detective actually died or if he ran off to be a better person while everyone else was busy crucifying his coat.

Works Cited:

Carpenter, Greg. The British Invasion: Alan Moore, Neil Gaiman, Grant Morrison, and the Invention of the Modern Comic Book Writer. Edwardsville, IL: Sequart Organization, 2016. Print. Houxbois, Emma. "Fight Club 2 #4." The Rainbow Hub. The Rainbow Hub, 26 Aug. 2015. Web. 13 Apr. 2017. <http://www.therainbowhub.com/fight-club-2-4/>. Keeper, Sam. Then Eve, Being A Force, Laughed At Their Decision. Tumblr, 23 Mar. 2017. Web. 27 Mar. 2017. <http://sam-keeper.tumblr.com/post/158744796290/rereading-final-crisis-makes-it-so-clear>. Land, Nick. "A Dirty Joke." Fanged Noumena: Collected Writings 1987-2007. Falmouth: Urbanomic, 2014. 629-34. Print. MacDougald, Park. "The Darkness Before the Right” The Awl. The Awl, 28 Sept. 2015. Web. 19 Apr. 2017. <https://theawl.com/the-darkness-before-the-right-84e97225ac19>. Marcus, Ezra. "How a Dystopian Film Moby Scored in 2006 Predicted the Post-Truth Future." Thump. Vice, 02 Mar. 2017. Web. 19 Apr. 2017. <https://thump.vice.com/en_us/article/dystopian-moby-post-truth>. Marsfelder, Josh. ""Ghost Train": Emergence." Vaka Rangi. Blogspot, 10 May 2016. Web. 28 Mar. 2017. <http://vakarangi.blogspot.com/2016/05/ghost-train-emergence.html>. Meaney, Patrick. "Grant Morrison's Day-Glo Years: The Mystery Play." Sequart Organization. Sequart Organization, 12 July 2012. Web. 17 Apr. 2017. <http://sequart.org/magazine/13616/grant-morrisons-day-glo-years-the-mystery-play/>. Molisee, Raven, and Paul Villeco. "Keep Beach City Weird." Steven Universe. Cartoon Network. Atlanta, Georgia, 30 Oct. 2014. Television. Transcript. Moore, Alan. Interview by Pádraig Ó Méalóid. Slovobooks. Wordpress, 9 Jan. 2014. Web. 27 Mar. 2017. Morrison, Grant, and Frank Quitely. Flex Mentallo: Man of Muscle Mystery. New York, NY: Vertigo, 2014. Print. Morrison, Grant, and Jon J. Muth. The Mystery Play. Saint-Laurent-du-Var: Panini Comics, 2010. Print. Morrison, Grant. "POP MAGIC!" Book of Lies: The Disinformation Guide to Magick and the Occult. New York City: Disinformation, 2003. N. pag 16-25. Disinformation. Disinformation, 08 Oct. 2014. Web. 15 Apr. 2017. <http://disinfo.com/2014/10/pop-magic-grant-morrison/>. Palahniuk, Chuck, Cameron Stewart, Nate Piekos, and David Mack. Fight Club 2. Milwaukie, OR: Dark Horse Comics, 2015. Print. Olson, Dan. "Fight Club and Toxic Masculinity." YouTube. Folding Ideas, 13 Nov. 2014. Web. 15 Apr. 2017. <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Td88z08a_4c>. Ronell, Avital. "Trauma TV." Finitude's Score: Essays for the End of the Millennium. Lincoln: U of Nebraska, 1994. 307. Print. Sandifer, Philip. "Haunt the Future." Art Against Art Winter 2016/17: 16-21. Art Against Art. 05 Mar. 2017. Web. 15 Apr. 2017. <http://www.artagainstart.com/p/haunt-future.html>. Sandifer, Philip. The Last War in Albion: The Early Work of Alan Moore and Grant Morrison. Vol. 1. Ithaca, NY: Eruditorum, 2016. Print. Sandifer, Philip. Neoreaction a Basilisk. Ithaca: Eruditorum Press, 2017. Print. Wachowski, Lana, and Lily Wachowski. "Chat with the Wachowski Brothers." What Is the Matrix. Warner Brothers, 6 Nov. 1999. Web. 15 Apr. 2017. <http://web.archive.org/web/20100213041503/http://whatisthematrix.warnerbros.com/cmp/larryandychat.html>. Vonnegut, Kurt. God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater. New York: Delacorte, 1965. Print.

Figures: