#no matter how obscure or just fucking bizarre to explore

[mantisgodiveblog]

Just so you don't get too-high expectations - there's not really big branching paths or anything like that loop-to-loop. Stuff changes, but it's not like a tree of choices with huge impacts. My partner got very frustrated at the limited choices because she had previously played DBH and Life is Strange and expected something similar (way beyond the scope of an RPGmaker game with one writer). I've also seen people get frustrated at 'unfair' deaths in the story because they went into it expecting a roguelike's fair challenge and got a visual novel in the shape of an RPG instead. Also, there's a couple things early on that almost everyone misses, so I'll let you know. Firstly, there's three Loop chats that are only available when you have done something 2-3 times, 4-8 times, and 13+ times respectively. It's a once per loop thing and you haven't seen it yet. If you lock yourself out of a chat you can still get the later ones. Secondly, there's a secret room - many people find it at some point, but there's interesting dialogue in it in Act 2.

...we think that you presenting "visual novels" as something that doesn't imply that your actions will have a branching tree of consequences with huge impacts that may also include a large amount of scenes locked to obscure and strange combinations of actions that may or may not lock certain things behind them is messing with our brain a bit, sorry.

Maybe it's because of the specific visual novels we're playing, but we're fairly used to them having adjacent staples to older point-and-click games, just with less things to click - which, uhh, older point and click games are actually one of the main genres we enjoy, and probably where we picked up the foundation of our problem solving. The fact that DOSbox is on our desktop probably dates us quite a bit, though we only really remember where a handful of the games we have that work on that currently are.

We quite enjoy visual novels. We've played quite a few of them, they lend themselves well to writing in formats we quite like, and make it very easy to break down where to poke to find certain things. We are also very very used to visual novels having alternate routes and extremely elaborate unlock requirements for those routes. We also use this same sort of technique when we play text-based RPGs, or similar. We spend a lot of time exploring alternative routes for, uhh, pretty much anything - the difference between RPGs and visual novels tends to just be that in the visual novel, the secret might-lock-your-whole-game-if-not-picked-up option is an option that clearly pops up on the screen, rather than a missable pixel on the floor.

...if you can list the things that we need to do 2-3 times/4-8 times/13+ times when they turn up so that we don't accidentally lock ourselves out of conversations, it would be appreciated. We'd rather not run ourself into a wall too early - we'd like all the dialogue we can get! Also, if there's any dialogue that's locked behind stuff like staring at barrels, we've already failed the 2-3 times requirement and the 4-8 times requirement, we've checked literally every barrel in the game that we have access to. Some multiple times.

[voltstone]

LYCOS | tacet anima mea | (wenclair)

Wednesday is waning. In her dreams, or by touch, she has been locked to one moment. Her visions know no peace. There is Enid, beneath moonlight, skin a dying shade. Then there’s herself, between the trees, drenched in blood, with the knife at hand… Her true nature writhes. This is just what happens when someone like herself snaps. It’s happened before, will happen again. Because Enid and Ajax have been together through several moons. And he knows his way around her heats. And Enid seems…happy, until she isn’t, and Wednesday has to put her back together. Enid has been stuck in a heat for a while now. And she smells good. She smells really, really good, and Wednesday will kill for it.

or, wednesday still doesn’t know what to do about enid, and enid’s biology really doesn’t help matters. she is going insane. (there will be bodies.)

— — —

hi wenclair fandom. im a shit updater. my last account bonked itself to death i guess. so i'm trying to rebuild on this one. this be the fic i'm working on now.

anyway uh. yeah. um. don’t be scared of omegaverse. i write it not how it’s done typically, if that's…a comfort. anyway. there’s angst and hurt/comfort and aro!wednesday and alexithymia to explore. :D

and  m u r d e r.

Okay, I am actually going to be genuine here. This is an explicit story, and I don’t just mean like, oh it has some smut. It does, but that’s not really why. This is a darker fic, with a lot of the focus being on (and through) Wednesday’s perspective.

Because Wednesday is fucked in the head. Which, like, no shit. But it is beyond what the show has for us since I’ve removed a lot of the sanitization.

Which explains this tag in particular.

Yeah. Dead Dove solely because of Wednesday. Dark, angsty, and everything in between. But also just bizarre. It gets weird because Wednesday is a freak, and Enid becomes a consenting one. Sorry, but also not really. I find these kind of stories cathartic to write. Lol. 

(The rest of the tags from AO3 will be with the first scene down below. The first “chapter” of the fic is an A/N that also reiterates this, and kinda explains more as well.)

Also, this will be available on only AO3 because this story is very much designed to be read using a skin I made consistently throughout. (Essentially, it’s supposed to emulate Wednesday’s typewriter.) The catch is, I also utilize the default in some instances for specific reasons. 

ah well.

hope you enjoy!

:)

— — —

(read more for the first scene, and the AO3 tags.)

AO3

SCALDING | moon | Pt.1

“…you’re not doing this to, like, try and mate with her, are you?”

enid is in heat. ajax tends to her. not well. not good enough. wednesday can do better, and when the boyfriend slips one too many times, she does just that. 

— — —

She bleeds wine. You expected something lighter — rose, or ruby. Like the hue to her lips, or what has bloomed across her face, then her ears, to a moment’s obscure discretion. Yet, perhaps it’s the wolf which dwells beneath her moonlit skin, and the nectar of its hide merely dreams to serve the full moon its bounty. 

As wine — the godly, goat’s blood incarnate.

Her hand reaches for a shadow between the trees. She’s broken. She’s weeping. Nevermore’s breath is a cold, dismal fog. It sticks to her as dew. The moon, ever the melodic sun, steams what life escapes her. Scalding moonlight, waning before her very eyes.

With the shadow, there’s a glint. Stained by red. Like blurry agony.

She screams of day. 

Reaches for the shadow.

For you.

And you’re calloused. A face like the Devil. Eyes as lit oil.

And you’re painted by Enid’s godly incarnate. Leeched to your clothes, down your hands. As for your lips, smeared across.

You bleed too — the Addams’ velvet. Though with each step forward, you can’t tell where velvet ends, and wine flourishes.

“Will it hurt?”

You don’t answer. Your eyes, lit, crack to glass, and the glass within them force a cruel swallow.

“W-Will it hurt…?!”

Again, you don’t answer.

Across your blade…

Wine gleams melodic sun instead.

continue: AO3

[downwiththeficness]

In the Bond-Chapter 14

Summary: Lilah often wished she’d never said yes to working with the Gecko brothers—usually while dodging gunfire. At no time was she regretting that decision more than when she’s hanging upside down from the ceiling, staring down a group of hungry culebras and one (1) extremely powerful sun god.

Word Count: ~7,600

Warnings: Drugging, kidnapping, violence, gore, blood, heavy sexual themes

A/N: This is an AU of my Story In the Blood, which can be read here. Basically, this fic explores what would have happened if Lilah had met up with Geckos before she met Brasa.

Taglist: @symbiont13

Start from the beginning   Previous Chapter   Next Chapter  

Read on AO3   Masterlist

They were standing around the familiar slab of the conference room table, a lull having settled over the group as they finalized the last few details of their plan. Lilah fiddled with the hem of her dress, a deep blue off the shoulder body con that she was assured (by Kate) would fit the bill for what they needed. The heels were not too high that she couldn’t run, the ankle strap keeping them firmly in place. She’d borrowed the clutch that held a switchblade and a few other accouterments that she might need throughout the night.

Seth crossed his arms, his gaze on her, “Are we all on the same page?”

Lilah nodded, looking to Richie and Brasa, who were also nodding. The subterfuge that they’d decided on was a little more complicated than strictly necessary, but it gave the brothers Gecko the opportunity to do what they did best—steal. At least, that was what they hoped.

Brandon Lyle had been maneuvered into place as best as they could manage without actually getting into a room with him. Brasa had bought his debt. Lyle had been offered terms, now they waited to see how he would react.

Lilah had her own thoughts about it, thoughts that she’d voiced several times over. It surprised her how Brasa had sided with both Richie and Seth, the three of them forming a bizarre unit that assured her that the plan would go exactly how they wanted. She found herself outnumbered and out-reasoned over and over in a way that made her jaw clench.

Their mark was an idiot, and too dumb to know he was so stupid. He’d gotten in deep with some pretty big players and thought that his money, or his looks, or his brute force could get him out of it. There was only one way to effectively deal with this kind of person—a con.

It wasn’t even really a con, per se, though Lilah was certainly not one to indulge in semantics when it came to crime. It was just an elaborate distraction that would give both teams the time they needed to perform the real work. Seth and Richie would be on site, in case he brought the book with him. Brasa and Javier would be en route to his father’s house in case it was still in the hermit’s library.

Either way, they were getting that book tonight.

Lilah had been clear that Branden’s father wasn’t going to be harmed in this. He was an eccentric old book collector, an appreciator of the rare and the obscure. He wasn’t responsible for his son’s debt, nor was he responsible for the way in which it would need to be collected. She made no such advocacy for the younger Mr. Lyle.

Seth reached down and grabbed his jacket from where he’d draped it over the nearest chair, shrugging it on and shaking out the fabric, “Alright. Let’s go.”

“Don’t forget your comms,” Lilah said, pointing that them, “You guys need to be able to hear while we work.”

Holding up both hands defensively, Seth gave half a smile, “Alright, alright, we’ll put the comms in. Anything else?”

“Yeah,” she shot back, “Don’t fuck around. Get in, get the book, get out.”

“Yes, mother,” Richie intoned with humor.

She glared, but said nothing further.

Seth laughed and took a step back, “You coming?”

“Actually,” Brasa cut in, “I have a matter I’d like to discuss with Lilah. It will only take a moment.”

Richie was already moving towards the door, Seth hesitating as he watched Lilah for guidance.

She nodded, waving them off, “Go. I’ll head to the bar in a few minutes. I need to arrive separately, anyways. It’ll be good to have some delay.”

Watching as they both sauntered out, closing the door behind them, Lilah shifted on her heels and turned to look expectantly up at Brasa. He stood not too far away, looking at her with an inscrutable expression.

Lilah grew nervous under those eyes, her shoulders rising up towards her ears. He looked at her a few moments longer, his fingers curling into his palms. Though he wasn’t a man of very many words, his eyes could say a thousand things that left Lilah struggling to interpret. She shifted in her heels, eyes darting away from that penetrating gaze.

When he moved, it was a series of slow, even steps that brought him within a few inches of her. He took her hands, holding them lightly.

“I like this dress,” he murmured.

Lilah felt a warm rush rise beneath her skin at the compliment, “Thanks. I thought it might be a bit much to sell the grift, but I think I’d rather be overdressed.”

“No,” he replied, moving further into her space, “Its not too much.”

She smiled shyly, “Really?”

Brasa nodded, dropping a kiss onto her bare shoulder, following the line of muscle to her neck, beneath her chin, to her lips. He kissed her lightly, with a warm reverence that hinted at feelings she wasn’t quite ready to name.

More kisses followed, soft and sweet. He shifted his grip to pull her into his body by her hips. Lilah draped her arms over his shoulders, letting the slow press of his mouth lull her into comfort. She touched her tongue to his, traced along it, tasting. The hands on her hips squeezed into her flesh, a little moan sounding.

Breathing in, he deepened the kiss, teeth nipping. Lilah gasped when he nicked her skin, sucking on the tiny wound. He gripped her ass, hauling her upwards as he dove in for another searing kiss, a growl sounding from the back of his throat. Lilah held onto him, almost all of her weight held by the strength of his arms.

In a smooth, fluid motion, she was lifted and deposited on the conference table. Her body landed with a muffled thud, her legs dangling over the side. She braced a hand on the wood below as she caught her balance, her free hand digging into his button down to pull him closer.

Lilah was quickly becoming overwhelmed. He was everywhere—his taste, his smell, his body—he overpowered every sense that she had until all she could think was that she needed to get closer, needed to get more. Greedy hands traced hard muscle, her ankles wrapping around his calves as he stepped into the space she’d made for him between her thighs.

The tight hem of her dress, already straining, finally gave up and rolled upwards towards her hips. The fabric cut into her skin, every second of discomfort worth it to have Brasa pressed against her. Nose pressed into her neck, he licked at her skin, teeth scraping. His hands steadied her, kneading her curves,  holding inexorably to him.

“Lilah,” he murmured against her mouth, a kind of soft desperation in his tone.

She pulled back a little, catching his eyes and lifting her brows in question. His jaw was slack as he worked to find words, his gaze tracing over the curves of her face. Smiling a little, she cupped his cheeks, kissing him quickly.

When she leaned away, she asked, “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

It occurred to her that she could just reach out to him, as she’d done many times, but Lilah’s gut told her that whatever he needed to say needed to be said out loud. She waited.

“Lilah,” he started again, his hands reaching down and gripping beneath her knees. He unwrapped her legs and set them down on the table, fingers pushing on her inner thighs to spread them wide.

She let him keep pressing her open, biting her lip to quell the feeling of being so exposed. He let the weight of his palms rest on the tops of her thighs, his eyes focused on the strip of fabric covering her mound. Lilah squirmed a little, couldn’t keep still when he was looking at her like that.

He said her name again, then, “Let me serve you.”

Staring at him in confusion, Lilah was about to ask what the fuck he meant, but comprehension quickly dawned when he dropped slowly onto his knees. She sucked in a breath as her pushed her dress further up her hips, the leather of his gloves rubbing sensuously over the newly exposed skin.

Brasa looked up at her, his head cocked to the side. Lilah felt her mouth purse as she tried to figure out what he was waiting for when she it suddenly clicked for her that he was asking for her to tell him ‘yes’. Huffing out a soft laugh, she grasped his forearms and nodded.

He looked...fucking delighted. Smiling so wide that she caught sight of his dimples, he leaned over and kissed her knee. He moved to the other side, his lips rubbing over her inner thigh. Here, he slowed, eyes half closed as he nuzzled her. The scratch of his stubble tickling, Lilah stifled another laugh as she carded her fingers in his hair.

Brasa laid a little path of kisses upwards, his thumbs pushing into her hips to tilt them forward. Lilah leaned back onto one hand, relaxing into the direction of his hands—she’d go wherever he wanted to lead in that moment.

With a strong pull, he jerked her closer to the edge. Surprised, Lilah let out a yelp and grabbed at his shoulder, the following laugh cut off when he dove in and licked a hot stripe upwards, his teeth catching. He lifted first one leg, then the other, over his shoulders, moving from side to side with wet, passionate kisses.

Lilah felt like she couldn’t breathe, her body warm and vibrating with anticipation as he made his way up towards her center. His fingers worked beneath the waistband of her panties, tugging them down. As Lilah was lifting her hips to help him get them off her as soon as possible, a knock sounded at the door.

“Lord Brasa,” came the voice that followed.

Her eyes closed, knowing that Javier would wait outside as long as Brasa wanted him to, but more than a little self conscious of him hearing what they were doing. She let out a long breath, disappointed but not surprised at the interruption. Without even looking at her phone, she knew that they were already behind schedule.

Brasa, for his part, didn’t seem to notice. He tugged again on her, eyes turned upwards to cast her a look of frustration. She looked down at the inky black, her breath catching as his hands flexed on her body. They stayed in that moment, suspended, the air sparking in a way that gave her a whole body shiver. He felt it, one side of his mouth quirking up in a self satisfied smirk.

Another knock, another call for his lord.

She smiled, unable to do anything but laugh as Brasa rolled his eyes and stood. Taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he dropped a lingering kiss on her mouth.

“This’ll be a quick job,” she said as he helped her down, her hands righting the fabric of her dress. “We do stuff like this all the time.”

Brasa took her hand, “You will be careful.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a directive. And, unlike most directives he gave her, Lilah was inclined to obey him. She nodded, smiling as she followed him out to where her car was waiting.

When she made it to the bar, Lilah took some time to get a feel for the room. The place was full of twenty-somethings, the music loud enough that any kind of conversation had to be yelled directly into one’s ear. She sighed, it was exactly as she expected.

Lilah pushed her hair behind her ear, using the motion to double check that her comm was secure. She took an extra moment to lift her toes in her heels, ensuring that they were as fitted to her feet as possible. The last thing she needed was to take a fall in her approach of the mark. He had to think of her as calm, confident—and, most of all, attractive. The set up wouldn’t work if he didn’t like her.

Deep breath.

Lifting her chin, Lilah began her approach. It constantly amazed her how people reacted to confidence, and a determined stride. If they weren’t too drunk to notice, most people got out of her way. The few that tried to catch her attention were quickly dismissed with the coldest look she could muster.

The VIP section wasn’t really so much as section as it was a few tables roped off with a bouncer nearby. Branden Lyle was sitting with several other men, a glass of dark liquor in his hand. He was dressed in a deep navy, a flash of gold around his neck. She managed to keep from rolling her eyes, but channeled her internal disgust into giving the bouncer a hard stare.

To his credit, the man didn’t seem bothered. He had about eight inches of height and a hundred and fifty pounds on her. Lilah had to crane her neck to look at him as she drew near.

“I’d like to speak to Mr. Lyle, please,” she announced genially.

Lilah found that the polite approach was usually the easiest way to get what she wanted when dealing with security. Too often, these guys were threatened, spit on, and pushed around by hot shots trying to get their way. A little civility was almost always unexpected, and almost always welcomed.

“No guests tonight, just business partners,” was his answer.

She gave him a winning smile and opened her clutch, pulling out the business card Richie had drawn up to give her a little more credibility.

“I am a business partner,” she asserted lightly as she handed the card over, “Mr. Lyle owes my bosses a debt. I think he’ll want to discuss terms as soon as possible.”

The bouncer looked at the card and then back at her before motioning for her to wait a moment. Hands folded in front of her, Lilah kept her expression serene as she watched the bouncer interrupt Mr. Lyle’s conversation, showing him the card. When the mark looked at her, she smiled a little, and bounced in her heels.

He laughed.

The little shit laughed. Lilah felt her lips press together as she resisted the urge to glare. Despite his easy dismissal, Brandon Lyle stepped into the first of many traps her team had in store for him tonight. He waved her forward.

Lilah sidled past the other ‘business partners’ as they left the table, her attention as much on the mark as possible. She sat demurely, setting her clutch on the table in front of her and fixing Branden with a friendly look.

He took her in, saying, “Ms. Corbett, I don’t think we’ve met.”

She lifted a shoulder, “We haven’t, but I’ve been told quite a bit about you by Mr. Pickerelle.” Lilah let that sink in, watching as his expression soured, “The good news for you is that you no longer owe him sixty grand. The bad news is that you now owe that money to my employers. They intend to collect tonight.”

Branden reached out and picked up his glass. He brought it halfway to his lips and paused, “If you’re here to threaten me, I can at least offer you a drink to soften the blow.”

Shaking her head, Lilah said, “What I said isn’t news. You were informed of the transfer of your loan two days ago. You were also informed of what my employers want to clear the debt completely.”

“Ah,” Branden replied around a swallow, “The book.”

Lilah echoed the last two words, “Yes.: She leaned forward on a forearm and cast him a coy glance, “Have you brought it, as we asked.”

He ticked his head to the side, “I did.”

This was good. It meant that the night would end early—thank God.

“Excellent. Do you have it here, or…”

Waving a hand towards the back of the room, “I asked the manager to lend me the use of his safe. Its downstairs.”

Trap number two. He’d not only disclosed the location, but he’d put it in the worst possible place to keep it—at least, when someone like Richie was trying to get at it.

We’re on it, came through her ear.

She breathed deeply, making a show of leaning back in her chair, “I think I’ll take that drink, now that you’ve shown good faith.”

The mark had absolutely not done that, but Lilah needed to buy the boys time to get in and get out. She put it at five minutes.

“What’ll you have?”

“Bourbon, rocks,” she answered.

Branden flagged down the bouncer and put in the order.

“While we wait,” Branden said with a curious gaze, “How about you tell me how you got into this line of work.”

Lilah considered the question, considered lying outright. It wasn’t necessary to come up with an elaborate backstory for this grift to work. She just needed enough surface details to convince him that she represented people who now owned his loan (which, technically, she did). He would fill in the other details on his own. Still, she needed to stall, and he looked interested enough.

“Well,” she said, crossing her legs and pretending to recall a memory. “I started out as an assistant at one of those cash advance places—you’re familiar?” When he nodded, she continued, “I showed some...aptitude, and I was invited to join a more lucrative venture.”

Branden lifted his brows, eyes dancing with surprise, “Aptitude?”

She smiled, as if laughing at a shared joke, “Yes, aptitude.”

He smiled along with her, “Would you mind elaborating?”

Lilah’s attention was diverted momentarily by the wait staff arriving with her bourbon. Branden took it from them and handed it to Lilah. She thanked him with a small salute, then took a sip. Like Seth, Branden had terrible taste in liquor. Unlike Seth, he didn’t seem to know it. Fuck, but it tasted like old sweat.

She barely concealed her grimace around a cough, “I’m adaptable. Very helpful in this business.”

Branden acknowledged her assertion with a dip of his head. He lifted his glass, “To adaptability.”

Loathe as she was to take another drink, Lilah gave a toast and sipped lightly. Swallowing was difficult, but she managed it. Glancing down into the glass, she eyed what was left. They’d poured her a healthy shot, a single cube of ice clinking against the sides.

“So,” Branden said, “You have to admit that its not just adaptability that got you where you are.” He leaned forward once more, saying, “You’re also beautiful.”

Her initial reaction was to dry heave, but she held it back. Instead, she gave him a small smile at the compliment, hoping that she wouldn’t have to actually flirt with him in order to hold his attention long enough to get the job done.

Not in the safe. Initiating Plan B.

Lilah felt anger rise up. The man had completely wasted their time. She set her jaw, narrowing her eyes at him.

“You’re right. Adaptability is not my only skill. I’m also a keen detector of bullshit.”

She stood, and wavered. Blood rushed into her skull, her eyesight blurring. Stomach roiling, Lilah had to brace her weight on the table.

“Clearly not good enough. Mikey?”

Hands gabbed at her, hauling her bodily up and over a massive shoulder. Panicked, Lilah screamed, the sound noted and ignored by the other patrons. Her stomach lurched and her head spun. Lilah had just enough energy to send out a call to Brasa as she was carried out the back door and thrown into the back of a van. Body limp, she could only stare at the streetlights as they passed by at an ever increasing speed.

She came to with a voice yelling in her ear, “Answer me, goddammit!”

Seth. Angry.

Her head hurt, her mouth dry. She swallowed painfully, “I’m here,” she croaked.

“Thanks to whatever god we haven’t met yet,” he sighed. “What happened?”

Lilah’s brain moved like molasses, her thoughts sticking together, “Drugs, I think.”

Everything hurt, her body shaking as she tried to get her bearings, “I’m in a room. Its cold. Fuck, its cold. I’m...tied to a chair. There are no windows.”

She could hear Seth repeating the information, though she didn’t quite understand why. As the seconds passed, her mind began to clear. The headache stubbornly remained, but Lilah blinked away the pain as much as she could. There would be time to feel pain later.

Shoulders moving, she tested the bonds of the rope. Too tight for her to get out of it. At least her legs weren’t tied down. She rocked from side to side. The chair was, unfortunately, pretty sturdy.

“How do we track your comm?” Seth asked.

Lilah sighed, “You got your cell?”

“Yeah.”

This was good, “Open it, code is two, seven, two, seven, two. Tap the ‘find me’ app. Click on my name, it should have my location, on it.”

From the back of her mind, she felt him growl. He pushed and pushed, until she couldn’t ignore the weight of him.

Querida…

“I’m okay,” she said back to him, the words filtering soundlessly. “A little banged up, but okay.”

Can you focus enough to let me through?

Through?

Yes, he urged, If you concentrate on the bond, I can get through to you. Fully. I’ll kill them, bring you back here.

Lilah’s vision swam with the effort of keeping the connection, “No. I can’t concentrate.”

Then, I will be with you shortly.

Lilah had just enough time to feel grateful before the only door of the room swung open and Branden walked in, Mikey strutting in behind. Lilah steeled herself, not sure where this would go.

“I think,” Branden began as he stood in front of her, “That you might work for powerful people, but those people wouldn’t give a shit if I killed you right now.”

Breathe.

“I think,” Lilah replied in a voice that was as stern as she could make it, “That you don’t know how wrong you are.”

He laughed, a high pitched, genuinely amused thing that grated on her very sensitized nerves. Behind him, Mikey also laughed. She sighed and crossed her legs, attempting to project confidence.

“You don’t have much time,” she continued, “I think you had better let me go.”

Branden’s eyes narrowed, though he was still smiling, “I know a bluff when I see one.”

Clearly, he did not.

“No bluff,” she shot back, “You don’t know what’s coming for you.”

Even now she could feel him nearing, even now that heat at the back of her mind was growing hotter and stronger. He was enraged, livid that he had not been there to protect her. She quieted him as best she could, but she knew—she knew. Lilah could not save these men.

“What do you want with the book?”

She shrugged, “I don’t want anything to do with it. I’m just here to acquire it.”

Mr. Lyle cocked his head to the side, “You do. You’ve been asking about it. You’ve been threatening about it.”

She breathed deeply, feeling sweat bead at her temples, “I don’t.”

“Mikey, let’s refresh her memory.”

Grabbing her hair, Mikey pulled her head back so that she was staring at the ceiling, one big hand coming up to cover her mouth and nose. Her lips pulled back from her teeth, but she couldn’t get the leverage she needed to bite down.

“How much is it worth?” Mr. Lyle asked, his voice coming from near her left side.

Lilah shook her head, trying to free her face from Mikey’s grasp, her legs uncrossing. Her heels kicked outwards, hoping to gain purchase somewhere. Her chest burned. Lilah was going to pass out, and soon.

“Its expensive, isn’t it?”

She felt tears form at the corner of her eyes. Her body jerked, failing to loosen Mikey’s hold. The lights flickered above her as her vision began to narrow. Sweat ran from her temples down her face and neck. The air in the room compressed over her body, her muscles contracting, knees coming up to her chest protectively.

“Let up.”

Mikey released her and Lilah sucked in air, body crumpling in the seat as she dropped her head down between her legs. She took several large gulps of air, wheezing and coughing. Behind her, Mikey laughed. Lilah hated the sound of it.

Mr. Lyle grabbed her hair and forced her to look at him, “What. Is. It?”

“I don’t know,” she coughed out, blinking as she tried to focus her vision. Everything was showing in doubles.

He gave her a hard shake and she felt hair come loose from her scalp, “Liar. Tell me.”

Lilah shook her head, “I’m not lying. I don’t know what it is. I was just asked to get ahold of it.”

Mr. Lyle let go of her hair and Lilah sat back, her hands folded uncomfortably behind her. The collar his shirt was damp. She doubted that he was sadist, at heart. He didn’t really look like he was enjoying this. He did look determined. Determined was worse.

Mikey moved around to her right, standing near enough that he’d be able to swat her down if she moved. She gauged the room. Mr. Lyle was between her and the door. Mikey could very likely snap her neck before she got there. Lilah was well and truly fucked for the moment.

“How much are you being paid for this?”

Lilah hesitated, eyeing Mr. Lyle. Her brain was working at half speed, and she couldn’t get a plan together to distract him. Though she was successful in keeping the panic at a minimum, she couldn’t quite draw upon her mental faculties to keep herself alive.

His hands were cold, bony, rough when they grabbed and held her up to him. Lilah grit her teeth, wondering if she could get her heel off to use as a weapon.

“How much?!” He screamed, and Lilah reflexively shut her eyes, a small sound of fear escaping her tight control.

Branden dropped her, she landed off center on the chair, falling to the floor. Stuttering breaths filled her lungs, a tear dripping down her cheek.

Branden sneered, “Let’s let her think about that for a bit.”

And then they were gone, leaving her curled on the floor. Lilah took a moment to draw on her courage, her wrists working against the rope. She pulled and yanked, until she was able to get her hand through the tiny loop, her skin chafing.

She looked at the binding, unwinding it. It wasn’t quite a weapon, but she’d take it. Struggling to her feet, she made her way to the door and gingerly turned the knob. It wasn’t locked. Another breath and she was easing the door open and peeking out into the hallway.

Brick on both sides and dimly lit. Empty. Careful of the sound of her heels, Lilah eased down the hall. All the doors were locked, except for the one that was open at the end of the hall. From it, she could hear music playing, and voices.

Lilah peered around the corner, cursing to herself when she clocked at least six guys talking around a card table. She only recognized Branden and Mikey. The others might as well be Agent Smith—all vanilla white boy who thought he was tough shit.

Standing in that hallway, Lilah closed her eyes and felt for Brasa, comforted when he responded eagerly, the whole of her body lighting up with heat. He’d find her, as he promised. But, Lilah couldn’t wait around to be rescued. It just wasn’t her style.

Adjusting her grip on the rope, Lilah squared her shoulders and strode out with far more confidence than she felt.

“We got a lock on you,” sounded from her comm, “Brasa took off, might reach you first. You hang tight.”

Lilah was not going to hang tight. She was angry at being cheated out of her goal, and she was even more angry that she’d been duped by some trust fund dickbag in an off the rack suit.

They noticed her, one or two standing as she moved through the room. There was a pull down garage door behind them (closed) and what actually appeared to be an exit to her left (also closed). Lilah ignored Branden’s opening jab about her being ‘wily’ and headed for the door.

Her heels clicked on the cement floor, her stride hard and quick. She didn’t stop when someone yelled, didn’t stop when chair scratched as more stood. What did make her stop was the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked.

Hands raised, the rope dangling, Lilah turned in a slow circle and faced them. Mikey had a handgun aimed at her, his finger on the trigger. Lilah glared at him, then turned her attention to their ringleader.

Branden was smiling as he approached, slowing about ten feet away, “Should have tied you up tighter.”

“Probably wouldn’t have worked,” she quipped.

He sucked his teeth, his smile morphing into something dark and angry. Lilah felt heat roll up her spine, a sharp burn that almost made her drop the rope.

“You have about ten seconds left to live,” she said. “Any last words?”

Branden laughed, “Funny, funny girl. How about I put a bullet in you and see if you have anything to say?”

It seemed he’d read the villain one-liner book, as well. Lilah rolled her eyes and waited for the inevitable.

The door behind her jerked off the hinges, air pushing hard enough at her back that she had to take a step forward to keep her balance.

“You’re not going to get that chance,” she rasped, her arms dropping.

A hand touched the small of her back, warm and familiar. Lilah leaned into it.

“Are you alright?” Brasa asked from over her shoulder.

She nodded, “I’m better, now that you’re here.”

Lilah could feel his gratification through the bond—that, and his anger. Fury, really. Hot, unrelenting fury.

Brandan was watching Brasa warily, his eyes looking to the door and back, “Boys? Let’s show ‘em what they’re up against.”

Lilah expected more weapons. She fully expected more posturing and some barbs back and forth. What she didn’t expect was a fucking semi-automatic rifle. Strike that, two semi-automatic rifles.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” she ground out even as she was moving backwards.

Gunfire is a weird thing. Its so loud. Disorienting. Your body moves without thought, jerking away from it, shielding your face. Lilah needn’t have bothered. Brasa moved, snakelike, turning her so that his broad body overtook her entire line of vision.

Bullets hit him. She could feel it. A staccato rhythm of impacts that had him grunting in her ear. He held her tightly, arms locked around her body so that he covered her completely. Face smashed into his chest, Lilah couldn’t do anything as the assault carried on—bullet after bullet.

Finally, when they stopped to reload, his arms fell away and he was turning to look at their assailants, “Out, Lilah.”

When she didn’t move, he turned his head and glanced at her over his shoulder, repeating the order. His eyes were blood red, looking angrily from under his brows. She’d never seen them like that before, and it opened up a dozen questions that this wasn’t the time to ask.

Knowing that she had no hope of actually helping the situation, Lilah ducked out of the room, sliding a little on the gravel as she went. More gunfire sounded, bullets breaking the windows. She covered her head and kept going until she rounded a lifted truck. Kneeling by one of the massive tires, she listened to the screams.

These weren’t screams of fear, not all of them. Lilah knew what a fearful scream sounded like. These were screams of pain. Lilah had seen that Brasa could tear a culebra in half with little to no effort. She didn’t really want to think about what he was doing to the human men who’d taken her captive.

While more guns went off, while the screams increased in volume and frequency, a familiar car came roaring up the drive. Relieved, Lilah stood up a little and waved to them.

Seth barely had the car in park before he was opening the door and heading for her, gun already in his hand. His face was a mask of worry, one arm outstretched to pull her into a hug.

“You’re not supposed to do this shit to us,” he exclaimed angrily.

Lilah rolled her eyes, pulling away enough to see Richie light a cigarette and salute her with it, “Its not like I planned to be drugged and kidnapped.”

The effects of the drug were wearing off—a product of either the low dose or the low quality. Lilah could still feel the fatigue beating at her, somewhat mitigated by the surge of adrenaline.

Seth held her by the arm and looked her over, “They hurt you?”

She shrugged, “Nothing I won’t survive.”

Mouth thin, his attention turned to the warehouse that had gone silent, “Brasa in there?”

She nodded, “Yeah. He, uh, looked pretty pissed off.”

Seth scoffed, “Not our fault that Lyle guy lied to us.”

Lilah gave another shrug and turned to see Brasa in the doorway, leaning heavily against it. He was hurt. Very hurt. She couldn’t even begin to count the number of bullets he’d taken for her, and Lilah knew that he had lost a significant amount of blood.

Feet moving, Lilah went to him, arms going around his waist as he struggled to support his weight. Even through his clothes, Lilah could feel the cold that confirmed what she already knew. He held himself stiffly for a few seconds, eyes squeezed closed, then let his arm fall to her shoulders as he took a step forward.

That step turned into a stumble, which turned into a fall. Lilah couldn’t hope to support him through it, landing hard on her knees, the gravel scraping.

She looked up at her friends, “I need help. He can’t walk.”

Richie flicked the cig away and stepped up to Brasa’s body. He lifted him with a choked off sound of effort and dragged him beneath the arms to the car. Seth reached down and helped Lilah to her feet. She followed Richie to the car, watching as he laid Brasa over the back seat.

“He needs a hospital,” was out of her mouth before her brain could catch up and tell her that the idea was so stupid that she should just shut up and never talk again.

Richie looked at her over his shoulder, “He needs blood. Lots of it, from the look of him.”

Lilah looked to Seth, “There’s blood at the bar. Javier will know what to do.”

Seth watched her face carefully, his eyes narrow, mouth turned down in a frown, then said, “Alright. Get in.”

Without hesitation, Lilah climbed in the back and knelt in the floorboard, reaching down to unclasp her heels. Her knees were bleeding, and her palms were scraped up pretty bad. She’d feel it tomorrow, no doubt.

The doors of the car slammed shut and the engine turned over, she rocked hard into the seat as Seth peeled out of the driveway. Rising up, Lilah touched Brasa’s face, tapping it a few times to rouse him. His shirt was completely soaked in blood, the material sticking to his chest. She unbuttoned it, hands hovering over his skin as wound after wound was revealed.

“I’m getting you a bulletproof vest for Christmas,” she grouched as she peeled up the fabric.

His chest contracted, flinched really, his voice coming out soft and scratchy, “I will heal.”

Lilah was half relieved that he was conscious and half angry that he seemed to have so little regard for his health, “You wouldn’t need to heal if you’d just, I don’t know, dodged the bullets.”

There was a definite sigh, and then, “Its only flesh.”

Incredulous, Lilah leaned over his body, grinding out, “I happen to like it when you’re not bleeding out in the backseat of a car, thank you very much.”

With a small smile, Brasa touched her cheek, “I am much harder to kill than this.”

“You don’t know that,” she said in a small voice, her fear coming through in the tone. “I don’t know that.”

Brasa dropped his hand and traced his fingers over hers where they lay on his still bleeding chest. His gaze was a little glassy, his breath slowing. She could see the remorse in his expression—she could also see that he was going to pass out.

“Hey, hey,” she called out, then to Seth, “How far away are we?”

Seth looked at her in the rearview, “Ten minutes, maybe fifteen.”

Lilah turned her attention back to Brasa, who was barely conscious, “Can you hold out that long?”

When he didn’t answer, she did the only thing she could think of to rouse him. She dug two fingers in to the bullet hole nearest to her. Brasa hissed, his body bowing, an angry growl sounding.

“Sorry,” she whispered, “You need to stay awake.”

Brasa inhaled through his nose, visibly trying to steady himself, “I’m fine, querida.”

“You are not fucking fine,” she almost yelled. “You’re bleeding all over the leather seats, you idiot.”

He gave a strained chuckle, “It was worth it.”

His eyes grew unfocused again and when Lilah dug her fingers into another wound, he didn’t respond. Lilah panicked, pushing off the floor of the car and straddling his body on the seat, trying to shake him awake.

“He’s not responding,” she said to Richie as he turned around to look at what she was doing.

Richie leaned further over, looking down at the sun god beneath her, “I told you. He needs blood.”

Lilah looked at Brasa, “I don’t…”

At a loss for words, Lilah struggled with what she needed to do and keeping some semblance of control in the situation. If he bit her, the venom would render her comatose. She’d already proven that she couldn’t cut herself open. She didn’t know how to heal him without breaking all the rules she’d set up for herself to keep her two lives separate.

“Here,” Richie murmured lowly as he reached for her arm. In his other hand was the switchblade he favored. “I’ll give you a little cut and you just hold it over his mouth. He’ll do the rest.”

Seth lifted a finger, pointing it at Richie, “She doesn’t have to do it if she doesn’t want to.” Then, to Lilah, “You don’t have to. We’re almost there. He’ll make it.”

The frigid body beneath her told Lilah that what he’d said might not be the case. She looked down at Brasa, then to Richie, and back.

“A little one,” she said, offering him her arm.

“I’ll be careful,” Richie assured her, his eyes focused on the blade in his hand.

It hurt. The pain of the cut spearing through the adrenaline running through her body. When it was done, Lilah had to stop herself from pulling the wounded limb into her body protectively. One hand on Brasa’s jaw to open his mouth, she held her arm over it and watched carefully as the blood dropped down.

It took far too long for Lilah to see the fluttering behind his lashes, for his throat to begin to swallow down what she gave him. Letting out a breath, she watched as he blinked his eyes open blearily his chin lifting in supplication.

Quick hands had her arm pulled down and his mouth fastened to the wound sucking hard. Lilah let out a yelp as she regained her balance.

“You alright?” Seth asked, his head craned around to see what was happening.

Lilah nodded, “Yeah, just wasn’t prepared for it to work like that.”

Black eyes looked up at her, his hands wrapped securely around her arm. The leather was stretched over his wide palms, torn in a few places from the fight. Lilah held his gaze, too relieved to care that he might leave bruises.

He let out a low moan as the pull of his mouth slowed, his tongue tracing along the wound. Lilah swallowed, pushing down the bloom of arousal at the sound that she only heard when he was either drinking from her or kissing her. In any case, now was not the time.

His eyes closed in pleasure, Brasa continued to drink, though there was none of the initial urgency. He savored every drop, his body growing slowly warmer. Lilah let him do as he wanted, too glad that he was conscious and moving to care how it might sound.

When he looked at her again, there was something playful in his gaze. Confused, Lilah felt her brows draw together. She started to say something when she felt him press his teeth every so softly onto her skin. Eyes wide, she leaned back, fixing him with a stern look that said, ‘don’t’.

His chest shook with restrained laughter even as he let off a bit, returning to the slow pull. Lilah relaxed, checking on the others. Richie was texting. Seth’s attention was on the road.

With one hand, Brasa traced up the path from her knee where it was smushed into the seat to her thigh, his fingers pushing up the hem of her blood spattered dress to grasp her hip. Without letting go of her arm, he shifted up a bit, until she was sitting squarely on his hips.

He was more alert, and the wounds on his chest had stopped bleeding. Lilah guessed that all the blood left in his body was either soaked into the seat or filling the erection on which she now sat. It occurred to her that she would need to tell Kate that she was, indeed, right. Feeding and fucking was the base instinct of both culebras and Xibalbans, even when close to death.

Rolling her eyes at him, Lilah pulled her arm away, ignoring his sound of protest. He tried to sit up, and she pushed him back down. He gave no resistance, probably couldn’t even if he wanted.

“You just lay there until we can get you to Javier,” she ordered.

Brasa lifted a brow, but settled back into the seat, staring up at her sleepily. Her arm tingled a bit, a by product of the venom he may have inadvertently injected. She shook it out, eyeing the cut. It was still bleeding a little, but the trickle was slow, already clotting.

A gloved hand caught her around the wrist, bringing her arm to his mouth. Lilah’s jaw dropped as she watched his tongue snake out and run along the line of blood, circling to catch all of it. Beneath her, his erection pulsed and the hand on her hip flexed to pull her more firmly against it.

Lilah very much wanted to lean down and kiss him in that moment, but she could feel how Seth kept looking back at her. Instead, she reached out into the bond, sending Brasa all the feelings she could, all the want and the relief she felt. The bond broke open with his response, her body lighting up with the images he was sending her.

Brushed with red and oranges, she saw how he wanted to yank down the neckline of her dress so that he could suck on her nipples. How he wanted to reach under her dress and rip the gusset of her panties so that he could push two fingers inside to test her wetness. How he wanted to sink his cock into her and make her ride him hard until they were both spent.

Lilah gasped, her body shuddering as she bit her lip to keep what she was sure would be an obscene sound quiet.

Seth half turned, “You okay?”

She gathered herself quickly, “Yes, I’m fine.”

“We’re pulling in now,” he called back, the lights of the entrance filtering in through the windows.

Brasa let her rise up off him, but his eyes were filled with promises that Lilah was sure he was going to keep—soon. As the car pulled to a stop, she had the door open, waving Javier forward.

Brasa was barely standing, his shirt open and hanging loosely beneath his coat. Lilah watched as Javier spoke to him in what she was now recognizing as Xibalban. When they disappeared into the elevator, she turned to Richie and Seth.

“Let’s go. We’ve got a job to finish.”

Richie eyed her bloodstained dress and bare feet, “Don’t you think we’re done for the night.”

Lilah jabbed a finger at him, “I did not get drugged, kidnapped, and shot at all in one night to not claim the prize. You can do whatever you want, but I’m going.”

Seth was leaning against the hood of the car, hands in his pocket. He eyed her levelly, “You sure you’re good?”

Lilah nodded.

He pushed to stand, rolling his shoulders, “Alright. I’m in. Richie?”

Richie’s smile was nearly feral, “I love it when she’s angry. I’m in!”

[wrcns]

↪ introduction to wren d’ansembourg.

BASICS

full name: wren marcel d’ansembourg.  nickname(s): vtáčik ( ‘little bird’ in slovak, used exclusively by his fiancé tomas ).  age: twenty-five.  date of birth: 3 june 1995. zodiac sign: gemini.  place of birth: luxembourg city, luxembourg.  ethnicity: white. nationality: luxembourger.  gender: cis male.  sexual orientation: homosexual.  romantic orientation: homoromantic.  religion: roman catholic, though wren isn’t the most diligent catholic ( re: he hasn’t done anything religious of his own volition in years ).  occupation: when he isn’t running amok around his home in luxembourg trying and failing to do his royal duties, he’s an artist -- a painter, more specifically.  language(s) spoken: luxembourgish, french, german, english ( all fluently ). slovak ( not fluently, at this point the best he can do is string together his favorite swear words to make tomas laugh ). accent: his accent is extremely reminiscent of a german accent, though he’s been told it’s softer than the average german accent -- when he’s speaking english, that is. he’s been told his accents in french and german are negligible and difficult to notice -- especially at the pace he usually speaks ( i.e. - wren has never said anything slowly in his twenty-five years of living and doesn’t plan to START ).

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

face claim: maxence danet-fauvel.  hair color: brown.  eye color: blue. height: 180.34 cm ( 5′11″ ). weight: 83 kg ( 183 lbs ). build: lanky, athletic. tattoos: he has a tattoo of a wren on his left forearm ( here ) ; to date he doesn’t have any other tattoos but he’s constantly doodling things he’d be perfectly willing to get tattooed on himself - tomas has, so far, urged him to think about it a bit more.  piercings: he has three piercings in his right ear -- he wears a ring in the lowest one and studs in the upper pair.  distinguishing characteristics: his height, the fact that he always looks like he needs about six months more sleep at any given moment, the way he talks with his hands, the way he dresses. 

PERSONALITY

label: the odd duck. positive traits: capable, clever, compassionate, considerate, creative, curious, daring, dedicated, earnest, empathetic, generous, independent, loyal, observant, passionate, protective, reliable, selfless, warm. negative traits: competitive, irreverent, sarcastic, self-conscious. aloof, anxious, crude, haughty, hedonistic, impulsive, timid, weird. goals/desires: wren’s admittedly very excited to get married when the time comes, to continue living his life as happily as possible even within the protection program.   fears: genuinely doing anything to disappoint or hurt his family, losing his siblings or tomas.  hobbies: painting, driving his siblings absolutely nuts, dreaming up new pranks to pull on his friends and family, doodling ( on clothes, skin, actual paper - wren’s not picky ), chatting with reporters about nonsense things, going on twitter rants about the dumbest things, spending time with his family ( occasionally ), cuddling with tomas, exploring whatever city he happens to be living in as thoroughly as possible, playing soccer, learning how to make films ( god forbid anyone let this man hang onto a camera for a significant length of time ), looking at memes until his eyes hurt.    quirks: most of his sense of humor is based on memes, he almost always has paint smudges on his hands no matter what he’s doing, he’ll switch between languages when he’s talking without thinking-- especially if he’s speaking english and forgets phrases he’ll try and figure out what they are in the other languages he knows and go from there, he can come off pretty aloof but he’s a genuinely social person -- he just tends to be too-tired on any given day to be really over-zealous.  likes: visiting museums when he has the attention span, painting, planning pranks, learning new skills, playing music ( his guitar skills aren’t all that bad and he genuinely enjoys practicing ), mystery novels, memes -- especially if they’re brand new to him, pestering luca, spending time with tomas, planning dates when he’s in the mood, watching documentaries on super obscure subjects, collecting mismatched socks, hanging out with regular people, collecting art supplies, energy drinks, coffee, good beer, good food, flustering tomas.    dislikes: having to be involved in political matters of any kind, most hard liquor, not being taken seriously when he wants to be, people who take themselves too seriously, france, having to be serious for any length of time usually, anyone who fucks with his family.    

FAMILY

father: emile albert james d’ansembourg.  mother: adélaide marie d’ansembourg.  sibling(s): luca phillipe gabriel d’ansembourg, wendy juliette d’ansembourg, lara jeanne d’ansembourg.  pet(s): he doesn’t have any pets at the moment.  financial status: too rich for his own good.

RELEVANT INFORMATION

PERSONALITY — 

Wren is, first and foremost, a genuinely odd person -- or so he’s been told for the length of his life at present; it’s a title he accepts with the utmost pride and he’s the first person to admit that he’d rather be known as odd than known for anything else. He can be loud and abrasive-- opinionated in ways that would likely get him into more trouble were he not royalty but could likely get him into sticky situations he isn’t even vaguely prepared for as time goes by. He isn’t always nice in any traditional sense -- he has no problem telling people what he thinks of them, will rip them to metaphorical shreds with a broad smile on his face and be that much happier for it. He obsesses over miscellaneous things to an inane degree -- he’ll worry about how mismatched he can get his socks to be for over an hour on any given afternoon and turn around to obsess over any given style of art he’s currently fascinated with depending on the day. Wren is also one of the most loyal people in the world -- at least where his family and loved ones are concerned; essentially, when someone takes the time to get to know him and Wren understands that they love and appreciate him in a way that he needs ( whether he’ll admit it or not ) then he would do anything in the world for them the moment they need him and he tries -- on occasion and not always successfully -- to make that clear to those he thinks need to understand it.

RELEVANT BACKGROUND —

Wren has never been what anyone would label ‘a typical prince’ -- he’d likely be the first person to question what a typical prince was supposed to be and why would it be so terrible if he wasn’t fitting a mold that, in his mind, had been outdated for hundreds of years? A prince in title and status but perhaps not at heart — the inner workings of palace life never interested Wren unless he needed to be aware of them to pull off some halfcocked prank or another on a whim. To those who knew him in the palace he was a troublemaker on his best days and that suited him far better than being the dutiful youngest son that he was convinced no one believed he could be even if he’d had the desire to begin with.

In his mind, there was no sense in forcing himself to be a shell of the person he hoped to be and if that meant that he was seen as bizarre or odd or too “other” to be taken seriously, well, that was something Wren - by his teenage years - had come to accept rather happily. He was much more at home tucked away in his room with his face inches away from his laptop screen going down some internet rabbit hole or another -- his obsessions were long lasting, his hyperfixations even more so and it was never quite a surprise to anyone when he would emerge from his room looking as though he hadn’t slept in days but perfectly ready to talk anyone’s ear off about whatever subject had caught his attention for the time being.

As he got older he tried to strike a balance between embracing all of his hobbies and relationships outside of being a prince and making at least half an effort, even if it was a poor one, at being a “proper prince”. It wasn’t something he was gifted at -- politics of most sorts tended to give him a headache on his good days and he could waste breath on arguments for hours simply to have advisors admit that he was right in the long run -- something Wren would enjoy deeply simply for the satisfaction of it all. He wasn’t the sort of prince anyone would look to to guide a country and he was thankful, consistently, that it wasn’t his responsibility in the long run to do so. It was almost an accident -- too good to be true, in his mind -- when he met someone at a political function and bonded with them and when he met his current boyfriend it was exactly the way he felt.

He wasn’t always the sort of man anyone would look twice at or pay attention to for more than a wild story or acerbic quip but things were different from the moment they met and Wren found himself struck by the feeling of being seen in a way he felt so rarely that it was, in essence, a connection he couldn’t ignore. He half-expected their relationship to fizzle out as they got to know one another more deeply -- perpetually concerned that he would ultimately be too weird for anyone to take seriously where a long term relationship was concerned but as time went on and the world seemed to fracture around them one of the few things Wren had to cling to was his relationship with the man he loved. Politics became a subject Wren abhorred that much more as alliances formed and their countries were not overtly friendly or directly allied and Wren’s stress over their relationship ending because of him shifted to a deep concern that their relationship might end whether they wanted that or not. It terrified Wren in a way he���d never felt prior and in a fit of something just short of desperation he proposed in the hopes that nothing in the world would ultimately drive them apart.  

HEADCANONS —

— Wren has been out-- to both his family and close friends-- as gay since he was fourteen years old. It’s never been something he stresses about or something he feels the need to hide in any concrete way but he’s certainly not the sort of person to go yelling about his various ex-boyfriends or flings to the world at large. Where extremely personal matters are concerned Wren can be intensely private, though that need for privacy can, on occasion, be cast aside in his mind in favor of pulling off a particularly glorious prank or giving the media some piece of insane half-truth to froth at the mouth over which he’s found nothing short of delightful to play with in his adulthood.

— In the grand scheme of interests he has, art is paramount. It’s one of the only things Wren has ever been interested enough in to study properly and arguing his case to be allowed to attend art school in earnest is something he’s extremely proud of having accomplished. Painting, sketching, sculpting, photography -- art of almost any sort is enough to catch and hold Wren’s attention but painting is usually his go-to form of practicing where his own art is concerned, as the materials are usually far easier to come by when he’s traveling or in this case when he’s going to be essentially in protective custody for the foreseeable future.

— Wren and his boyfriend -- now fiancé -- have been dating for going on three years and Wren is as in love with him now as he feels like he always has been. He feels he can be most earnestly himself around his partner and takes advantage of that at every turn -- occasionally in the form of staging elaborate but ultimately harmless and loving pranks on him simply to give himself something to do and relieve any tension either of them happen to be carrying. Their relationship is an easy one and even with the political tension in the world that brought their engagement to bear -- it’s still perhaps the most settled and at ease with his choices Wren has ever felt in his life.

[galaxa-13]

D&D drabble time!

Lokrarc suddenly had sensation again. Unfortunately this only lead him to the discovery that there was no light. Flexing his fingers and stretching his wings he decided to just enjoy feeling again. It wasn’t long before there was a light and he felt someone grabbing his arm.

Pulled into the light Lokrarc blinked at the scene before him. A crowd stood in Shenorn’s throne room and a crumbling pile of ash he could only assume was the pitfiend himself. Focusing on Omen before him Lokrarc took his hands in his own and smiled.

“I am eternally grateful for what you have done for me.” he said.

Before he could say more Omen locked him in a fierce hug, which he returned.

“I missed you.” the mindflayer sniffled.

“A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for a time of adversity. - Proverbs 17:17“ the deva intoned as he patted Omen’s back.

Then Omen pulled away and introduced Tetra, which was a bit silly. Of course he already knew who she was. Then again, perhaps she did not know he was Lokrarc? After the warm reunion with Omen he honestly felt a bit awkward standing before the towering ice devil.

The others began to shuffle off and keep exploring the lair, but Lokrarc only had eyes for Tetra. She did not seem eager to join the others so the two of them naturally fell to the back of the group.

“Thank you, for your help,” he spoke quietly to her in Infernal. “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. - John 15:13″

Tetra gave him a look before slowly replying in Infernal, “Stop talking like that. It is bizarre.”

“I’m afraid I have picked up some new habits since last we spoke.” he carefully said.

“Indeed, a great many changes since I was sent to Phlegethos. I would say you are a different person all together.”

“Perhaps I am...”

Their conversation ended. Lokrarc was unsure how to communicate with his associate now and Terta certainly wasn’t striking up conversation herself. Perhaps she felt as unsure as he did, or perhaps she was simply being stoic. Whatever the case was the group had discovered Shenorn’s soul coin stash so that proved distracting enough.

Tetra appeared uninterested, but Lokrarc noticed her eyes carefully scanning the shelves and all the occupants perusing them. He hoped she wasn’t planning on taking any of the coins for herself...

Then, as they traveled further through the hidden passages, both he and Tetra stood straight. Without even saying anything or looking at each other the two of them started walking with more purpose. It was if a switch had been flipped in both of them. Nothing else mattered as they both followed the pull they felt.

There. Side by side, looking no different from any of the coins surrounding them, were two soul coins. As one they both reached out and picked up a coin. These were their coins and now they were together again.

A bright flash of light obscured the two from view.

Randal blinked. His head was swimming. Looking around fear gipped his heart as he saw a bunch of monsters standing in front of him and Ireena. The mindlfayer took a step towards them and he lost it.

“STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME! WHERE THE FUCK AM I? AND WHAT THE EVER LOVING FUCK AM I WEARING?”

Why was he in a back-less sweater with no pants?! Ireena still had her armor! What kind of deal was this?! That Shenorn guy take them away from Strahd and BelCindra just to plop them in front of a yuan-ti, a mindflayer, a gnoll, a metal man, some gladiator dude, a panther, and a fish lady?! What the fuck? Fuck this!

[mst3kproject]

Daughter of Dr. Jekyll

John Agar’s in this.  So, for that matter, is Gloria Talbott from Girls Town and The Leech Woman, and it was directed by Edgar G. Ulmer, who brought us The Amazing Transparent Man.  It was released on a double-bill with The Cyclops, which I’ve already reviewed, and while all that seems to promise us an utter crapfest, the premise at least sounded intriguing.  Then I actually pressed play, and was greeted by an opening consisting of gray fog, theremin music, and a bored narrator.  Oh, yeah.  This is gonna suck.

Said opening narration very (and I mean very) quickly introduces us to the tale of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, in which a distinguished scientist used a strange potion to turn himself into a werewolf!  Wait… that’s not what happened in Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde at all.  Wasn’t it a story about how every person has the capacity for evil and that’s part of what makes us human, and… aw, fuck it, this is a John Agar movie.  Okay, sure, a werewolf.  Whatever you say, Portentous 50’s Narrator.  Moving on.

Janet Smith and her fiancé George Hastings arrive at her family’s palatial home, which she will inherit on her upcoming twenty-first birthday.  That’s not all that’s come down the family line, though.  Janet’s last name is not Smith, but Jekyll, and she was born after his experiments in lycanthropy had begun.  Might she pass it on to her children?  Or might Janet herself not be affected?  Or is her father’s old friend Dr. Lomas an evil hypnotist using her for his own ends?  Wait… what?

After sitting through crap like The Incredible Petrified World and Creatures from the Abyss, I kind of want to give extra points to Daughter of Dr. Jekyll.  It’s actually fairly well-constructed for the most part, it’s rarely boring, and the sets representing the Jekyll family estate are very nice.  There’s a plot I can follow, I know who the characters are, and so forth… my standards have dropped so low, that’s actually kind of impressive.  The creepy delivery guy who hangs around whittling stakes and sowing discontent is pretty effective, himself, even though he’s a very one-dimensional character.

There’s still plenty of badness to be had, of course. The movie appears to be set in the first decade of the twentieth century, but it’s not very committed to that. The sound is frequently weird, from the absolute cacophony of frogs at the opening to musical cues that I swear were stolen from Robot Monster.  There’s a random cameo from a very 50’s pin-up girl who appears, gets killed, and vanishes without us ever even learning her name.  The climactic fight between George and the werewolf is extremely shatnery and the werewolf makeup is even lamer than in Werewolf in a Girl’s Dormitory.

Even worse, there’s an entire subplot that kind of doesn’t even bother happening.  Most movies that are going to involve angry villagers have some scenes in a local pub or something to show the rabble being roused – even The Giant Spider Invasion had that.  In Daughter of Dr. Jekyll we hear about angry villagers from a couple of different people but never actually see them until the pitchfork-toting crowd appears out of nowhere at the end.  It’s like an angry flash mob.  All we needed was a few thirty-second scenes, but I guess this movie couldn’t afford villagers.  The whole climax is obscured by fog that makes it very hard to tell who’s who and what’s going on.

As usual, we’re confused about who our main character is supposed to be.  The person whose eyes we see the story through is Janet.  It’s Janet whose arc we follow, and Janet who we learn the most about, but she’s a very frustrating character because she is entirely without agency.  The only choice she appears to make in the entire film is agreeing to marry George, before this story begins.  Otherwise, she’s letting him or Lomas tell her what to do, completely incapable of making her own decisions (she even says as much, when George asks her if she’d like to go to London and elope).  When the action occurs, she’s drugged with sleeping pills or in Lomas’ hypnotic thrall.

Even the very premise strips Janet of control over her own fate.  She is not the heir to a scientific legacy (as other descendants of Henry Jekyll in other movies have been) but to a genetic one.  Tanya in Lady Frankenstein chose to continue and improve on her father’s work.  She might not have.  Janet, on the other hand, cannot opt out of the family’s potentially tainted DNA. This lack of control is reinforced through smaller events as well: George won’t let Janet change her mind about marrying him, and when the young couple tells Lomas they don’t want his money or estate, he reveals that both were actually Janet’s the whole time.  Like Eddie in The Beatniks, Janet is basically a victim even when good things are happening – they always happen to her rather than because of her.

The character who actually tries to take control of the situation, and who I think we’re supposed to see as the ‘hero’, is George – but we know nothing about George.  He loves Janet and he has terrible fashion sense, and that’s really it. It’s her family we learn about, and her mental disintegration that follows.  George spends most of the movie just hovering on the sidelines watching, and even at the end he doesn’t do very much.  He explains what’s really going on to Janet and the audience (though we’ve already figured it out) and gets his ass kicked by a geriatric werewolf.  The monster is actually killed by the mob of villagers, while George just stands there with Janet sobbing into his shirt.  The movie probably wouldn’t have been much different without him.

The thing that really takes the viewer out of the movie, however, and does so repeatedly for its entire seventy-minute running time, is that it can’t make up its mind what its monster is supposed to be. I already mentioned the narrator’s conviction that Mr. Hyde was a werewolf, but it gets way weirder and more confusing than that.

The servants at the Jekyll house also talk about werewolves, and tell Janet and George in threatening voices that they know how to deal with such creatures.  On the other hand, when Dr. Lomas himself tells them what happened, he tells the story we’re familiar with: Dr. Jekyll wanted to separate the good and evil parts of a person, and ended up giving the evil in himself a free agency of its own.  This made me think maybe the servants were just a bunch of superstitious peasants? Maybe they called Mr. Hyde a werewolf because they didn’t know what else to call him?  That almost started to make sense… but then George picks up a book about werewolves, and in its pages he reads that a werewolf leaves its tomb on the night of the full moon so it can drink blood, and can only be killed by a wooden stake through the heart.

Wait.  What?

That… that’s not werewolves!  Werewolves are killed by silver bullets!  Stakes through the heart are vampires!  Werewolves don’t have tombs!  What is going on here?

By the time the climax rolls around, we’ve already figured out Dr. Lomas’ evil plan, and sure enough, it turns out he’s hypnotizing Janet into believing she’s a werewolf so she will commit suicide and he can have her family’s money.   That makes sense in a Scooby-Doo kind of way, I guess, and I can accept it for the sake of the movie… but then he actually turns into a werewolf and goes out to suck blood!  What?  What?  How did that happen?  Was he playing with Jekyll’s formula?  But Jekyll turned into Hyde when he took the drug, not at the full moon!  What the fuck?

The movie never explains itself.  We’re just supposed to take this bizarre conflation for granted.  But vampires, werewolves, and Mr. Hyde are three totally different types of monster! Vampires are undead corpses who avoid decay and death by sucking blood.  Werewolves are living people who transform under the full moon and kill out of animalistic rage.  Mr. Hyde was Dr. Jekyll’s repressed evil side given form.  You could probably argue that all three have the same root, in our need to conform to certain standards in order to make society work, but Daughter of Dr. Jekyll doesn’t try to do that.  It just mixes and matches story bits at all, combining conflicting mythologies and leaving very visible seams.  In fact, we may as well consider this a Frankenstein movie, too!

I can only imagine the fun Mike and the Bots would have had with this confusion.  I’m picturing a game show in which they must match the weapon with the monster, and if they lose, they get eaten.  Tom would have figured out that you survive by picking what ought to be the wrong answer.  Crow would not.

The opening narration of Daughter of Dr. Jekyll notes that Robert Louis Stephenson’s book is a classic, and it is so for good reason.  It’s an exploration of the evil within us all, the intrusive thoughts and secret desires we would rather attribute to an alter ego than ever admit to anyone, and the fact that the sinner is as much a part of each of us as the saint.  Daughter of Dr. Jekyll throws all that out the window by equating its villain with a vampire/werewolf, making him a sort of mindless monster. It’s confusing and annoying, and its compelling source material deserved far better.  

[secret-diary-of-an-fa]

Secret-Diary Recommends Some Music

I’m not exactly a ‘music person’, in that I don’t know a lot about the mechanics that underpin it: I couldn’t look at sheet music and tell you what the tune is or describe the change in chords in a classical piece. I’m not even 100% sure what the difference between a Ukulele and a Banjo is, aside from the fact that one is played by coquettish islanders while I get shit-faced on Pina Colladas in the background and the other is played by Louisiana bootleggers from the 1920s with comedy accents. All that being said, I know enough to know that the overwhelming preponderance of music produced today is total crap. Every time I’m foolish enough to tune a radio to a musical station, there’s a new barely-pubescent twatwipe peeping about their feelings in a tupperware voice that strongly suggests they don’t actually have any. Either that or its some nominally grown-ass man or woman singing something that they imagine is sassy and empowering but actually just makes them sound like Gary from World’s End- only less charming, because immature, quasi-literate manbabies are infinitely more annoying when they’re real. The point is, it’s a fucking wasteland out there. Trying to find a band (from now or the past) who you’d actually want to listen to can be a chore. That’s why, as your gracious patron and benefactor, I’ve decided to share the fruits of my musical explorations with you and hit you with some recommendations. I’ve tried to be as eclectic as possible, since I want everyone who reads this to find something they’ll like, no matter how radically divergent their individual tastes are. Some of the entries on this list are famous, some are obscure and some were famous but have been made obscure by the passage of time. I’ve tried to limit myself to people whose music you might not be fully aware of, even if you’ve heard of them to some extent, but I’m not plugged into what is and isn’t popular with peeps nowadays, so don’t read too much into my choices if they seem either too obvious or too bizarre. Here goes.

1. The Orion Experience An ultra-camp synthesis of New Romantic music, bubble-gum pop and modern vocal stylings, The Orion Experience are unlike anything else you’ll have heard recently. They seem to borrow as much from the original Decadent tradition in art and literature as from later musical iterations, meaning that their lyrics are complex and sophisticated without being especially deep. They’re primarily concerned with building aesthetically-interesting and richly-evocative language-constructs rather than performing an emotion that no-one in the band is actually feeling. The deliberate artifice is deeply refreshing in a musical landscape of faked sincerity and forced emoting. I recommend starting with the songs The Cult of Dionysus and Sugar. If you like those, the rest of their stuff may also interest you.

2. Trace Adkins During an attempt to write a wild west/sci-fi fusion novel, I went on a musical odyssey, looking for apposite songs that would gel well with the world I was building (knowing a world’s soundtrack can help cement that world in your imagination- try it, if you’re a writer yourself). Anyway, I stumbled across Trace Adkins- a country singer with a palpable sense of humour about being a country singer and a knack for delivering a silly-but-well-turned phrase. Also, without getting technical, his tunes just flat-out rock. I have no idea how well known he in the Country and Western World, but since his existence came as news to me, I’m sticking him on this list. Start with the surprisingly sexy Honky Tonk Badonkadonk and graduate to Hot Momma and Whoop a Man’s Ass. You’ll know if it’s your sort of thing from the first minute of any of those songs.

3. Caravan Palace Have ye heard of a thing called Electric Swing? If you’re reading a blog post about music, you probably have, but just in case you haven’t, let me tell you it’s a fantastic genre. Imagine if The Great Gatsby owned a synth and took a fuckload of mind-squanching hallucinogens. Well, that’s Electric Swing. Few do it better than Caravan Palace, who also seem to borrow heavily from club music and other genres, adding these to their unique blend. For some pure Electric Swing, start with Susie. For something a little more modern, start with Lone Digger.

4. 11 Acorn Lane Speaking of Electric Swing, I can also recommend 11 Acorn Lane, whose lyrics can be a little more playful than those of Caravan Palace. They also have a somewhat more classic sound. Start with Let’s Face it I’m Cute for a great sample of their work.

5. The Fratellis Now, my UK readers have almost certainly heard of The Fratellis, since they actually got some traction on mainstream radio over here. I’m less sure about those of you reading along in America, so allow me to make an introduction. Their music is joyously and unapologetically grimy and proletarian, paring an unrivaled sense of fun and energy with a sly, low-key feeling of cynicism and detachment. The tunes and melodies evoke Rock, punk and New-Wave (think The Ramones by way of The Proclaimers) without wholly relying on any of them. Check out Chelsea Dagger or Henrietta to hear them at their most gleefully up-tempo-yet-jaded, or try Vince the Lovable Stoner for a more chill, tongue-in-cheek song.

5. Dionne Warwick You’ve probably heard of her in connection with There’s Always Something There to Remind Me, especially since it featured heavily in that one fantastic episode of Black Mirror. However, you might not have realised just how much she’s contributed to musical history: her soft-yet-powerful voice and classic Rock rhythms and tunes combine to create something archetypal yet unique. Leap right in with Do You Know the Way to San Jose and discover a fucking legend.

6. Rufus Rex Ever wanted to hear a freakishly talented man singing songs based on horror films and books (particularly the works of H.P. Lovecraft) in a style that evokes Goth music but defies genre on closer inspection? Then get your arse over to Rufus Rex and start plumbing the nightmarish depths of horror-music with the song World’s In Between.

7. Studio Killers Contemporary electronic music with surprisingly inventive and weird lyrics. That about sums up Studio Killers, really. Look, not everything on this list can be genre-transcendent or epoch-defining: some things are just very good examples of the type of music they belong to. If you haven’t heard of them, start with the song Eros and Apollo then check out Ode to the Bouncer, then compare and contrast: those two songs represent the two opposite edges of the musical spectrum they cover, so if you like either one, at least some of their songs will be for you. Also, treat yourself to the music videos on Youtube: they’re surreal and awsesome.

8. Fishbone A punky ska band from back in the day, Fishbone are on this list for one reason and one reason only: Party at Ground Zero. Party at Ground Zero is an upbeat, gloriously energetic song about nuclear war. It’s a total jam and you absolutely have to experience it for yourself.

9. Tomska Tomska... isn’t technically a professional musician. He’s a Youtube comedian, short-film maker and collaborative animator who became internet-famous for his ‘ASDF movies’. On the off-chance that you haven’t seen them, they’re short collections of animated skits and jokes rendered in a simple but immediately-compelling and recognisable style. Anyway, Tomska decided to create fast-paced, catchy songs about some of the recurring characters in his ASDF movies, and those songs turned out to be fucking amazing- being both laugh-out-loud funny and actually really musically ambitious and well put together. Check them out on his channel. I’m particularly fond of Mine Turtles, but you do you.

10. Paul Anka Big band and jazz musician Paul Anka once set out on a quest to create 1920s-sounding versions of famous rock ‘n’ roll songs and the results can only be described as ‘eargasmically epic’. His versions of Jump and Eye of the Tiger are, frankly, better than the originals.

Right, that’s everything I can thing of for now. I’m going to go make myself a big sandwich. By the time your read this, I’ll be settling down with two-slices of bread, some cheese and an unreasonably large amount of cranberry sauce. All the songs and bands in today’s entry are on Youtube, so go have a nosy. Until next time, peace out and fuck off!

[circuitlover]

Neon Genesis Evangelion: The End of Analysis

Is this a ridiculously naval-gazing post about Evangelion? Yes. Is it an accurate assessment of the franchise as a whole? I have no idea. I tackled this as an unknown initially, starting the series with zero contexts beyond the usual recommendation of “you should watch this.” Which is part of the reason why I’ve been a little hesitant about even broaching this subject to begin with. I’m so removed from the zeitgeist, both in terms of not being a regular anime viewer, as well as it being long past Evangelion’s relevance as a franchise, that it seems everybody already has their opinion on Evangelion all figured out. So at least indulge me, as I scramble around for something.

‘The End of Evangelion’ is a certainly a gratifying conclusion, as we finally get to see much of what was being concealed behind the veil (well, as much as one could reasonably hope for). It also reminds us of some long-standing questions. Why do the Evangelion possess such a bizarre tendency to be ill suited for battle? How do NERV’s continue to run unabated from governing bodies? What exactly is the mystery surrounding the origin of the ‘Geofront’? These were all broad strokes of why I felt unsatisfied by the original conclusion (the hastily arranged make good of the final few episodes of the series), and though I don’t expect every minor detail to be answered about such a multi-faceted world, I still feel these were questions pertinent enough to have been resolved in some fashion. Now I’m a little more aware of the troubled events leading up to that ending and it’s quite admirable that they managed to deliver something, despite the haphazard nature of those final two episodes.

 It’s clear that End of Evangelion intends to underline the original series from the start, dropping us back at the critical juncture where episode 24 had left us. Even if one could feasibly state that we reach the same point after the events of EOE, I’d argue that we inhabit a vastly different headspace by the time we reach it here. It’s not difficult to surmise what happens between the gaps left between the final two episodes, though everything is lent much more credence here, now that we are left to witness the macabre reality of what the entire series has been building towards. NERV headquarters is finally attacked by SEELE, and with this, we finally see the bloody climax. Now free to depict the attack in full detail, the opening half is certainly full of action and excess, though far from mindless, with only the most unflinching of viewers (or those divorced from its context) likely to derive any sort of baseless enjoyment from these scenes. The various lingering shots of deaths sit uncomfortably here, but nonetheless punctuate the finality of it all. If anyone could have accused the series of taking a wholly unexpected (and saccharine) turn towards it’s finale, then EOE is it’s biting rebuttal.  As cold as the NERV headquarters is, with almost everything bad that has occurred almost exclusively originating from within it’s walls, it’s still disconcerting to see such a familiar setting being callously destroyed in a matter of minutes, along with it’s inhabitants. The conflict has essentially existed as a faceless one; both the audience and Evangelion’s protagonists seldom knew what they’re truly been up against. It’s a war being played out by the pawns, and here we see the severity first-hand.

 As their headquarters are crumbling, so are the pilots. Shinji is in no fit state, evidenced by his own bemusement over his actions towards a comatose Asuka. It may be shocking, and his actions are far from admirable, but given the context, it’s hardly surprising. After all, his confidence had been built up; only to be meticulously broken the instant Kaworu reared his head. This compounded with his earlier apprehensions after Toji’s departure, his various disingenuous, failed, and otherwise doomed relationships leaves his mental state in tatters. I personally don’t like Shinji, but then again, it’s quite clear to see that you’re not really supposed to. Even without Hideki Anno’s spiteful intent of wanting to deconstruct the typical shonen hero propelling Shinji’s arc, it’s quite safe to assume that anyone who had any lingering empathy for Shinji will almost certainly have abandoned such notions at this point. The Shinji we were first introduced to, awkward, unlikeable, with an overriding sense of hate and self-loathing, has now given way to complete apathy. “I’m so fucked up” seems to ring more an acknowledgement, than it does a realization.

 Like Shinji, Asuka too has succumbed to her trauma, but on a much more literal scale, being broken in both mind and body. They are two characters that are seemingly analogous to one another. But again, first appearances can be deceiving, as by the point of Asuka’s introduction, we are already keenly aware of Shinji’s nature. He openly laments his position; Meanwhile, Asuka is brash and outspoken, embracing her identity as a designated hero, rather than cowering behind it. How they choose to define themselves is different, but the underlying reasons are gradually revealed to quite similar. Both driven by an inherent self-loathing, we witness the pair at varying levels of despondency, though rarely at the same time. In fact, for as consistent as emotional turmoil is through NGE, it is rarely overt, leaving most characters to wallow in their own abject misery. Almost everything operates on a certain level on duplicity, some of which, admittedly, isn’t apparent upon first viewing.

 Rei is ostensibly disconnected from the very beginning, though that makes the act of attempting to interpret the character, quite difficult. Very little is revealed about her, and most of the development is concerned with what she is, rather than what she does. Her role is pivotal to the overall narrative, and the themes being explored, as she is, by design, a doll that emotes. Which I guess is where her appeal lies. The mystery intrinsic to the character is never completely done away with, even at the very end. And the case could be made if the third incarnation of ‘Rei’ is even the same character that we’d become accustomed to, as her eventual rejection of instrumentality is a stark contrast to the cold pragmatist that bookended the TV series.

 The (quite literal) congratulatory nature of the series conclusion was always conspicuous in its inclusion. Evangelion had never been a work that had an interest in servicing its audience, at least in terms of a ‘happy’ ending. Which isn’t to say that wasn’t a possibility, but the tonal dissonance in which it was delivered never quite rang true. As an audience, we were conditioned to cautiously enjoy any brief respites afforded to our characters, as more often than not, it was simply a prelude to the turmoil that was soon to be heaped upon them. All of which (keeping with tradition), means the course correcting of EOE ups the stakes by an order of magnitude. The imminent attack is at the worst possible time, with each pilot being indisposed. The first big sequence, the assault on NERV, is a veritable massacre. Everyone’s fates are conclusively played out, whilst the Evangelion units become the focal point. 01 is promptly captured, whilst 02 (along with Asuka) is sunk to the bottom of the lake. This leaves Misato to attempt to galvanize an unstable Shinji. It’s kind of galling to see Shinji act so despondently in the face of her imminent death, though his selfishness probably obscures that fact until it’s too late. For me, Katsuragi is probably the most well meaning of the entire cast, but tragically, is someone woefully inept of providing the emotional support that others around her need. Her own weaknesses are clear to see, and although many of her problems are often emphasized for comic affect, she is still one of the few who straddles the line between her duties and profession life, perhaps the most convincingly. Like most other characters, she serves as juxtaposition to Shinji’s own conflict, and highlights how everyone is dealing with their own issues, just with varying levels of inadequacy. Her final actions echo her previous (failed) attempt at comforting Shinji, with her own loneliness giving way to fleeting intimacy.

Everything hits a crescendo once the Evangelion finally make their appearance, quite literally. Asuka awakens, and with it, her centrepiece battle takes place. I’m sure that it isn’t really something that I need to go into exacting detail about, because the following scene is enduring all by itself. Though it is notable as a culmination of the various elements all coming together; music, animation, along with the story. This is where EOE leverage’s its theatrical status for all its worth, eschewing the patchwork TV production in favour of something grander.  The actions scenes are often impressive and horrifying in equal measure, and there is probably no greater proof than here. Asuka’s death is certainly disturbing, and much of that is down to how they chose to portray that violence. For me, it recalled earlier moments, where the eldritch abomination like nature of the Evangelion had been evoked. These moments give the audience a brief pause for thought, where much is suggested of how horrifying their (The Evangelion) unshackled nature truly is. The unease, which these moments produce, suggests that something is terribly untoward. Most of which is conveyed in how we (the audience) see others react, gleaning what we can from cutaway shots of onlookers recoiling in horror. If recollections of Unit O1’s previous ‘feast’ already served to perturb, then this surely toys with our imagination yet further. We only see Unit 02 itself being devoured, and now knowing what we do about the distinctly human aspect of the Evangelion, the horror of Asuka’s fate here, trapped inside, now inhabits an altogether more unsettling space. The series ending, try as I might to appreciate it, was never going to suffice. It was nice to see Shinji’s own paradigm being settled, but I felt like it would have been more effective with a little more of that ambiguity stripped away. For as much as Neon Genesis Evangelion likes to steep itself in duplicity, this is where it’s felt like it was something of a compromise. The inner turmoil was my key takeaway from the work as a whole; it forms the crux of every relationship, and dictates the course of every action. It’s a lonely show, something that if not apparent from the get-go, slowly permeates throughout the narrative. Shinji is an initially an awkward character to relate to, bumbling his way through his scenes, though much of this weak nature is revealed to be a product of his environment. The world in which this all takes place is irreparably damaged, and even if the true extent of the second impact isn’t made expressly clear, it becomes quite apparent that humanity lives on in its own self-inflicted dystopia. It is this inherent contradiction that defines nearly every relationship, as each is unwilling (or unable) to acknowledge their true feelings. It is ultimately a self-destructive existence for the likes of Shinji, who permeates multiple meanings to his interactions with people, the paradoxical nature of which is explored in the conflict that defines the multiple endings and interpretations. Shinji is our proxy, but even so, it can be difficult to empathize with him. A hero he may be, but it’s more by designation than by design. It’s a role, which he consistently questions, as he exhibits almost none of the values we typically associate with someone tasked with such a mammoth task. He ostensibly comes of age throughout the series, gradually gaining some semblance of self-worth, though it a precarious act as he constantly seeks assurance from his father, and later anyone (which becomes something that Asuka resents him for). No character is treated like a proverbial puppet more than Shinji. In fact, it is SEELE themselves, who objective turns out to ultimately “break” Shinji, rendering his ego to naught. For all intents and purposes, it could be argued that the whole world is literally against him, at least by his own perceptions. His relationship is Asuka is extremely strained, initially showing hints of affection, with their hilariously depressing kiss encapsulates this dichotomy; Neither the circumstances (nor the characters) allowing for anything to take place. Even the slight reprieve offered in the finale (Asuka’s acknowledgement amidst the fallout) is obfuscated by the context in which it’s delivered.

Shinji’s journey dictates the ending, first, in the original series, where his perspective colours the ambiguity from which we see the fallout. Thematically this works (and I can see why some may prefer the agency it gives the audience), though I feel that the abstract nature of this ending, robs it of some emotional resonance. This conclusion is also hampered (at least for me) in how abrupt it is, with certain story threads left dangling. In my opinion, ‘End of Evangelion’ lives up to it’s billing as it gives a much more balanced and subjective conclusion, where we see first-hand “The Human Instrumentality Project” in effect. I was suitably invested to the point where I wished to see how the end was reached, and of course, see something that wasn’t cobbled together with recycled animation or slight of hand. I can certainly appreciate the original ending as a companion piece, which serves as a more personal and intimate resolution. But the fact remains, a lot of the fascination surely lays with how incomplete this all feels, with each finale, seemingly answering as many questions as they create. That said, I find that both endings offer up a surprisingly optimistic message. The original may be more overtly upbeat, but I think that EOE’s is lent more credence by virtue of the horror that precedes it. The life affirming message is delivered in the most tragic of circumstances, and I perhaps find that most heartening of all. By no means does ‘End of Evangelion’ end on a positive note, but I think it’s enough that it carries the promise of one. The somber sentiment may be more prevalent for some, though my rebuttal would point to the fact that, for as depraved and unethical the means may be, everyone ultimately wants to be happy. There is something to be said about the apparent theology that makes up a large part of Evangelion, and even if it has no real implication beyond the aesthetic (those initial warnings from long-time fans that, yes, a lot of the pseudo Christian imagery is window dressing at best. ), I still feel that its prominence casts a large shadow over proceedings. If nothing else, it certainly lends a morbid atmosphere to the show. When one starts to take this aspect into closer consideration, it’s easy to see why theory regarding Evangelion has become so prevalent. One of the constants throughout is the titular Evangelion. Though they remain a focal part, their function, both narratively and thematically, are constantly shifting. Initially agents of change, they are presented as a mysterious, if helpful force. Gradually this is peeled back, as various allusions are made to what they actually are. Throughout, we see how their pilots are affected by their experiences in their cockpits. Shinji is continually drawn and repulsed by the idea of piloting his Evangelion, seeing it as a means to forge something meaningful, whilst at the time, also aware of how dependant he becomes of his new role. Rei is driven by a sense of twisted duty, one that routinely sees her sacrificing herself (needlessly) for the cause. And Asuka perceives her role as raison d'être to obfuscate her own past, this being both a strength and a weakness. For better or worse, the Evangelion define them, and as the story progresses, we see that this takes on altogether more sinister connotations.  When viewed as an allegory, I think Evangelion holds multiple meanings, depending on what part is being referred to, or indeed who is viewing it. My initial impressions were pretty much taking it at face value, though I think the misdirection of the opening is a deliberate ploy for the most part. I’ve read that some take it as a deconstruction of the very genre it inhabits, though not having much experience with that myself, I choose to focus solely on the emotional aspects. Indeed, the psychological (and philosophical) strands become much more prominent as the series progresses, as it steadily veers into becoming a wholly oblique affair. Humanity may live on, but in spite of itself; something which is made abundantly clear, throughout.

Though its message initially seems quite muddled, I still feel it one that still manages to remain pertinent. I certainly can’t fault it for ambition. And there is something to be said about a piece of work that I simultaneously feel, is one of the most bleak and uplifting things I have witnessed, flawed or otherwise. I appreciate the themes that it chooses to explore. I like the characters, even in spite of everyone being contemptible in some glaring way. And in that respect, this series is nothing, if not a parade of characters struggling to deal with their emotions. But maybe that’s why I like it amidst all the abstract craziness; it retains a very human message.

[loopy777]

I have to agree with the fact that Sanderson is so much better when writing an overarching story. I very much regard stormlight archive as his best work ever. That said, some of the problems you mention about warbreaker is still present for way of kings. The storyline is essentially broken into 3 main characters. Kaladin, Dalinar, and Shallan. Dalinar's story is good, but not exactly amazing. It's very, very predictable, but it's executed well enough, at least up until the climax.

Shallan's storyline is far and away the worst of the 3. Like no contest. Like, there is a lot of promise in the idea, with the whole section being focused on a couple of scholars, rather than warriors and slaves carrying siege equipment. Brandon would revisit the concept of scholars in book 4, to much greater effect, but here it's not particularly interesting. The big problem is shallan.

Shallan In book one is not particularly interesting, and the narrative is way too afraid to let her witty comments stand on its own, instead feeling the need to have characters who comment on how clever her dialogue is. Which it generally isn't. Which is bizarre, because there is a lot of genuinely witty characters in the book, shallan just isn't one of them. To make matters worse, her book one climax is completely removed from the books actual climax.

Which is kinda problem, because the climax of Dalinar and Kaladin's storylines is the big, emotional climax of the book, which just makes shallan's storyline feel even less compelling and interesting by comparison than it actually is. Shallan thankfully is much, much better in book 2 and onwards, after some character development.

The heart and soul of stormlight archive though, and way of kings more than any other, is Kaladin Storm blessed and his crew. The tale of the surgeon turned soldier, turned slave is easily the best storyline of the entire book, and it is the overarching story of the series. Kaladin's tale basically the story of the underdog personified, which by its very nature makes his story very compelling.

Kaladin is basically a superhero, in that his most defining trait is his chronic need to protect people, whether it be random innocents, his men, or others. However, Sanderson makes his story incredibly compelling by taking advantage of this. How do you prect your men when your men's job is to essentially soak up arrows for the real troop? How do you protect your men when you have no resources? How do you take what little resources you have to achieve your goals?

Add this in with the fact that unlike Shallan, Kaladin is generally challenged(Especially in book 2, and to a lesser degree in book 1) on his beliefs. Kaladin a very flawed human being. He wants to save and help people. Above pretty much anything else, but he's also incredibly flawed, and people aren't afraid to challenge him on it. People question him, he makes the wrong assumptions, he makes TERRIBLE mistakes due to lack of understanding certain things.

And every single time Kaladin makes big mistakes, they have big, massive consequences that have an immediately negative impact. I don't wanna spoil it, but one of my favorite moments in book 1 is when Kaladin thinks he's finally found a solution, but he fails to take into account how it affects literarily everything outside of his own actions, and is very quickly punished for making this mistake.

However, like any good shonen protagonist, Kaladin keep rising up every time he's struck down, which makes for a very compelling storyline. Especially in book 1, where his exploration of his part of the planet's magic system is very limited. To put it bluntly, this book is where the technical aspects of the magic of stormlight works the absolute best, because Kaladin is very limited in what he can do, so he has to actually use the limited powers he has to his advantage.

All of this culminates in book 1's climax, which is really the best part of the book. It's where Dalinar's storyline reaches its climax, and it's well executed, but it's how it relates to the far more interesting Kaladin storyline that makes it glorious, as it's his storyline that reaches its climax, and fuck me is it amazing. It's where everything that has been built up and developed over the course of the war part of the book finally reaches the point where it all comes together into one.

If there is one bad thing I can say about Kaladin's storyline, it's that book 1 doesn't really do a good enough job of making you realise that Kaladin's depression isn't something that is exclusively tied to his shitty, shitty situation. The bouts of self-loathing and bouts of clinical depression the eternally snarky paladin has isn't going to be magically fixed. It's an ongoing problem he has to deal with long after his life actually gets better. It's extremely realistic is what I'm saying.

And the books deals with that very well over the course of the books, but doesn't really make it clear enough in book one that this is going to be a permanent fixture of Kaladin's life.

And now that I'm fully awake, I realise I probably didn't link the problems with word of kings to the problems at warbreaker. The connection is basically, that Shallan in Wok is an incredibly reactive character, who generally never actually does things. She almost always just reacts to character around her doing things. That gets better in words of radience, but it is very much the case with way of kings.

Hm. I’m not sure if I agree exactly with your diagnosis of Shallan, but I don’t entirely disagree, either. Her storyline is definitely the weakest in the first book, and while I don’t think she’s entirely reactive (Jannah is essentially her antagonist, and the interplay between them is most of what that subplot is about), what driving actions she takes are obscured by all the mystery surrounding her. And that, I think, is where the problem overlaps with Warbreaker. Siri and Vivenna might, according to Sanderson’s outline, drive the plot of the story, but because we’re stuck in their POV and there’s so much mystery, it’s not apparent to the audience what they’re really doing.

At least with Shallan, I don’t think her subplot in ‘Way of Kings’ is meant to climax with the same power as that of Kaladin and Dalinar. They get a proper climax, but Shallan’s subplot in the first book essentially ends with the reveal that she’s not the person we think she is as she comes into new power. I think it’s supposed to be an ominous note, a cliffhanger, as opposed to an ending.

But this is a bit deflating, because this mystery creates a disconnect between Shallan and the audience. We thought we knew her, but it turns out we don’t. And full clarity about her doesn’t even come until the third book in the series. I understand why Sanderson did that (parallels with Dalinar and his arc in the third book, IMO), but it means that Shallan remains at a distance for a long time. With Stormlight Archives, though, it’s more tolerable. It’s a series, so we can wait for ultimate payoff on Shallan and cool our heels for three books until we fully understand her. Plus, as you note, we have really powerful subplots for Dalinar and Kaladin that give each novel a proper solidness.

But with Warbreaker, it’s just one book (I’ve since found out that a sequel is apparently planned, but it’s going to be a long wait), and the book as it stands doesn’t come together fully and seems to be focused on characters who wind up not being the protagonists of the story. Even the villain suffers for being wrapped up in mystery, so that by the time we learn what’s really going on, the reaction becomes, “WOW WHAT A TWIST!!! ...but eh, cool motive, not really interesting.”

That said, I don’t mean to be so down on Warbreaker. It’s fine. I’ve read far worse, and I enjoyed it. It just has some flaws I would not have expected from Sanderson, but perhaps are indicative of weaknesses that his penchant for multi-books epics mitigates.

[bnrobertson1]

LET’S ALL GET BRAINWASHED!

Upon watching the appropriately hypnotic documentaries Holy Hell and The Vow, I find myself pondering a question I never thought I would as someone who has seen Rocky IV over thirty times: maybe brainwashing isn’t so bad?

“No,” you’re probably thinking, “you gorgeous idiot, brainwashing is bad. Because Nazis and Commies and George Orwell and government experiments and stuff.” And yes, there are certainly some very bad things that have (and will) come from coerced conviction. Giving one person or system total control of anything will inevitably lead to a flawed system as people themselves are inherently flawed, and those willing to coerce aren’t exactly known for their restraint or tact, especially when given virtually unlimited power over someone else. But between watching the aforementioned documentaries, binging Alex Garland’s superb Devs, and reading Huxley’s Brave New World for the first time*, I’m starting to think that the dangers of brainwashing have distorted humanity’s views, in the process obscuring its vast potential benefits for society at large.  

*No, I didn’t just take Psych 101 recently. Why do you ask?

So how could I be advocating for something with such potential risks? Well, for starters: it works! * Whether it’s stopping smoking or helping relieve PTSD, hypnosis has been proven to help people where other methods have failed. But that is merely scratching the surface. Consider the desperate subjects of Holy Hell and The Vow. They all have similar stories: for whatever reason, these people feel like they’re lost or lacking and are looking for something to achieve happiness, community, and/or a higher plane of consciousness. They’re seeking that thing that will make them whole- ie the journey literally everybody on earth takes at some juncture in one form or another. And- at least initially- they find it! You see, right on your TV, pure gravity-less joy illuminating their whole beings, the weight of doubt and limitation lifted. Sure, it’s doing things we may perceive as silly like singing songs about joy’s joy’s joy or stitching their cult leader a sequined Baja, but the happiness itself is nonetheless unmistakable, and leads to actual breakthroughs in cognitive ability. And with regards to the potential embarrassment, the only place where dignity and true joy are seen together are in the minds of some seriously stuffy and/or seriously shameless people.

*Used a lot of exclamation points in this piece! Apologies!

Alas, these rapturous feelings are often achieved through various shadowy systems, the masters of which are often self-fashioned messiahs who are just savvy (or manipulative) enough to tweak their followers’ brains to their liking. If this sounds similar to drugs or religion or anything else that causes a shift in consciousness, that’s because it exploits similar weaknesses in the brain to achieve the effect. Unsurprisingly, much like with drugs or religion, that initial thrill wears off, creating a desperation to recapture it. And this is where things usually go bad, leading to brandings or other bizarre/ illegal rituals that typically serve the insatiable ego of the cult leader*, as to be one of these people, you need charisma, and the other side of that coin is narcissism.  Which, indeed, makes it sound bad- at first. But compare it to human design.

*They themselves trying to recapture that initial high of being praised like a deity

Because what is more “brainwashing” than our own genetics? Are our emotions, the very real byproduct of those genetics, not the epitome of a “shadowy” system? Sure, we’ve studied them, but we seem to know virtually nothing about this beyond-complex system. And they’re nearly impossible to explore objectively because they’re nestled where we can’t sense them- specifically inside of our heads- all the time! They make us into contradictory vessels that constantly work against our own self-interest, slaves to neurological impulses and reactions we cannot control, because if we contradict them, they will punish us with anxiety, depression, or another litany of ways our own system is designed to biochemically weaponize itself against us. They push us to anchor ourselves with toxic relationships, ones in which the sporadic lapse of suffering feels like actual joy.

Sure, our cursory knowledge of this can lead to a lot of conscious-altering fun in the short run (booze, VR, one-night stands), but it’s akin to watching a robot bang itself in the head with a robot hammer in hopes of a brief kaleidoscopic wave* appearing on its robot LCD display. We get a euphoric rush when we do things that destroy our bodies and pangs of regret when we do what’s actually in our best interests. Our intellect is prisoner to our emotions, a never-ending strife that tears us apart. We use our immense brainpower to obsess over utter horseshit** as opposed to unlocking its immeasurable potential for something that would benefit both us and society as a whole.

*I assume this is like a bong hit for robots.

**Welcome to my blog!

It needn’t be this way. There are practices and systems- and yes, some would call them “brainwashing”- that fight these self-destructive, doubt-ridden processes directly, rewiring our reward system to let us feel great while actually using the entirety of our capabilities to achieve something more than what makes us feel good for a few fleeting moments. What if we could escape the scarcity-based laws of diminishing returns by programming our brains to experience things with such purity that every time we do something feels like the first time, thus transcending our brain’s magnetism to stimuli that inevitably make things less special the more you do them? But, as has been seen, these systems have their own problems*.

*Most notably, making Hall of Fame baseball players want to kill the Queen of England.

Take the big one people associate with brainwashing: the forfeiture of personal freedom- or its very root, free will. And it’s true, by giving your brain over to something, at some level you lose control of it. But doesn’t that happen anyway? And for that matter, what about free will? I’m not suggesting it doesn’t actually exist*, but as humans there are a very finite amount of likely responses one can have to a situation. It maybe a lot, but it’s finite. Sure, you can react to something so unexpectedly as to appear random, arguably the most “free” thing there is- like when someone punches you in the face you could decide to call Pizza Hut or when you hear REO Speedwagon you can lick the sidewalk**, but is this seemingly “endless” range of options actually freedom? Also, even in modern America, where “freedom” is in our birth certificate multiple times, we’re not actually free to, for instance, say whatever we want to say. This has been demonstrated ad nauseam over the last few decades with the rise of cancel culture***. “But wait,” you interject smugly****, “we have freedom of speech, not freedom of consequence.” Excellent point. But couldn’t someone technically- as in physically- pass out flyers saying “Pol Pot is a pussy” in mid-century Cambodia? Or yell anything they wanted in St. Peter’s Square during Stalin’s reign?  There were no mandatory mouth shackles I’m aware of? Is that also freedom of speech? Sure, the consequences of those actions would be far more dire- life instead of livelihood- but they’re nonetheless consequences, restricting people in their potential actions.   

*Although I seriously doubt it does

**This actually makes total sense.

***I’m not saying actions shouldn’t have consequences, or that the cancel culture is a bad thing necessarily. But it absolutely is a form of censorship- ie, a repression of our natural freedoms. (Don’t cancel me!)

****You smug, cancelling fuck!

But let’s posit we are free. While we we still would have a limited range of choices, when aggregated, they lead to a world of (virtual- but not actual) infinite possibility, but who really takes advantage of that? Isn’t everybody so wrapped up in the battle between thought and feeling that potential is more of a cruel, imprisoning tease than something actually achievable?* Due to this, we’re all pretty much stuck in our lanes no matter what, programmed to do what we’ll do. That “crazy” dude you knew in college will fall into his pattern soon enough. You may not perceive it as a pattern, but it is. So, while freedom is something that makes us feel awesome saying**, in reality it’s so limited as to not really exist. Every “free” adult I know either works 40+ hours a week or is beholden to some other sort of mechanism that could be taken away in an instant.  

*To paraphrase Creepy Keith from The Vow: “Hell is on your last day of earth meeting the person you could have become.”

**And the best George Michael song

But what about “Truth”? Well, isn’t objectivity in itself kind of “brainwashing?” For example, color doesn’t actually exist- it’s just how human’s perceive different wavelengths of light. Or take the fact that eye-witness accounts are typically untrustworthy because of the brain’s shortcomings. Doesn’t the theory of relativity prove that truth is inherently, well, relative? And it applies more to than just personal experience- in a societal sense, what more is morality than a sort of temporal societal brainwashing? Or a system of right and wrong based in relativity? You may feel bad when you sleep around on your wife, or steal a Pinto, but really, those are just things society has essentially brainwashed you to believe are bad. And those brainwashers are doing it because it serves their best interests for you to create more consumers and not steal their shit. In 200 years, when the only occupation is “Water Thief,” the people who survive will be those who get a rush of Dopamine when they swipe a bottle of Fuji from the weak-ass babies.

I could go on.

And will!

Technology both complicates the topic of brainwashing… and makes it more relevant. Netflix’s The Social Dilemma is a pretty bad use of 90 minutes but not because it isn’t timely*. The film explores how reliability on all things tech and the dawn of personalized digital echo chambers have made us victims to our own biologically-wired confirmation bias. Thus, technology is using your own biological (and I stress this again, because brainwashing plays on the weakness of the brain) impulses to reward “social” behavior in its attempt for popularity, something the brain associates with procreation.

*The movie sucks because 1/3 or so of it is a weird parallel story that needlessly dramatizes the points the film is discussing. Perhaps it makes it more digestible for some, but I felt it forced and infantilizing. Plus, it stars Pete from Mad Men (in three roles!) and the shit-head son from Righteous Gemstones which kind of takes you out of the appropriate headspace for watching what otherwise could be titled “WE’RE FUCKED!: THE FILM”

If you’re curious why the separation in this country has gone from “divide” to “chasm,” it’s because Big Tech has introduced systems into our daily lives that prey on our neurological weaknesses. Our brain is defensive of our beliefs as in many ways they are the bedrock of our identity. THIS IS A DESIGN FLAW OF OUR BRAINS THAT TECH COMPANIES EXPLOIT FOR ALL THE MONIES. And it’s an insidious one at that, as it’s impossible to see from a personal perspective, so it (ironically) propagates in the soul like ink pellets in a fishbowl in a tech ad. We all feel like we’re right and everybody else that disagrees is a Bloomin' Onion of an idiot. What a fun set-up. 

Thanks to the integration of social media’s tentacles into our beings, when something comes up that challenges these beliefs, we’d rather point to another source that suggests we’re in fact just fine, thanks, instead of having to face the fact that we could be wrong and need to change if we want our sense of sanity or morality or whatever to remain intact. It’s far intellectually easier and self-defensively strategic to just find another source that tells us “Hey, that thing that’s making you question yourself? Well, it's just lying to you because of some clandestine, nefarious system” as opposed to bucking up, biting our lip, and actually self-reflecting with the hope of change. Don’t get me wrong: being wrong sucks all sorts of choad! But the grace in humanity is in its capacity to improve*. To see its wrongs, to make amends, to apologize, to forgive, to express actual humility. Sure, there is something to be said for sticking to your guns, but the reality is one man’s discipline is another’s stubbornness- and the cold, hard truth is machines are better at both of those things by a wide margin. By not embracing change’s inevitability, we all nurture a system that temporarily fluffs our ego with pride, but is incendiary to the fabric of society as a whole.    

*A close second: The Baconator

Unsurprisingly, “brainwashing” as a whole is demonized by those doing it now, entities who believe the world will be optimized when there are 10-20 companies who control every facet of life. One thing they control: a lot of the media we consume. In the 21st century, the most recognized source of brainwashing’s ill-directed damnation is probably The Matrix. In what is its most iconic* scene, protagonist Neo must choose between the red pill (representing “the hard truth that frees”) and blue pill (signifying “blissful ignorance”). Neo, of course, picks the red pill which was good for the plot of a sci-fi movie but a pretty dumb selection if you really think about it.

*A word now defined as “Most Meme’d”

When I saw the film for the first time twenty years ago, of course I would have argued for taking the red pill. I probably would even said “freedom” and “truth” multiple times while emphatically explaining my 1000% correct decision to the poor soul who offered the question, Camel Light smoke billowing out of my ear holes*. But that’s because when you’re a teenager, especially an American one, you are taught to lionize the pseudo-rebellious, who in reality are just narcissists with savior-complexes. 

*Is the “ear” the hole? Or the fleshy part? I digress…

But what if we flipped this- to value happiness over so-called freedom? This is what makes Brave New World so believable- that if humanity were somehow trained to make this fundamental intellectual shift they’d be... well, happier. This is a premise I agree with:  I’d take happiness over freedom any day of the week. If some fundamental change in thought could make digging ditches feel like I was writing the Declaration of Independence or composing Beethoven’s 5th or hugging my 12th child, I absolutely would sign up. You could argue this is selfish, but I could argue the opposite as well*.  

*Fret not, I won’t

Because the human brain is engineered to procreate, it’s meant to be social. And defensive. This makes its rewards system- the things that make us just feel good- very vulnerable to the same things that social bonds are- such as hysteria and blind hatred and a lack of empathy. The faults of Groupthink often masquerade as “freedom.” And that limits us in so many ways. One could argue that this isn’t a flaw at all, it is actually the best thing, as it has led to pretty much all human achievement up to and including love, the apex of a humanity where people banging-it-out is pretty much the point of the species. But what if there was a way to transcend biological (and consequently societal) impulse? A way to reprogram society- or its individual members so simply making more of ourselves isn’t the only point? What would that new goal be? It just seems short-sighted for humanity’s only goal to be “make more humans”- perhaps a better mission would be to make all currently living humans happier as a whole? That seems it could kill two birds with one stone*, as those who don’t have to constantly fight for survival are more likely to reproduce. Instead, we’re caught at this wretched intersection of evolutionally biology and big tech, where we have the tools to evolve the human race by evolving its mindset, but that would require a leap of faith most won’t take, because we hang onto a lot of the systems that got us this far- competitiveness, fierce protectiveness of our own genetic code- even though they simply don’t work as well in a more technologically-dominated society (see: late stage capitalism). Unless we want to live in a world where there are ~400 happy people and just enough people around to run the machines that feed them and take them diamond-tasting or hunter-hunting or whatever billionaires do. It would be a utopia- for those 400 people. But for a more inclusive solution, we may need to rewire our reward system- and this is where brainwashing could come in.  

*Or perhaps that should be our new goal- kill all the birds!

So, Big Tech, if you’re out there reading*, I’m 100% cool with you breaking out the big scrubbing brush, digital shampoo/ conditioner, and giving my nervous center a big ole’ scrub. But I have some requests.  

*A funny thing: Not even Big Tech, which reads all data on the internet, will be reading this. Ha. Ha.

I request you make exercise feel like ecstasy, kindness to feel orgasmic, failure to feel fine (yet still be edifying), disappointment to feel like Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups taste, and anger to last as briefly as a blink. For the shortcomings of others to inspire, not irritate. To recognize the humble as though they were rock stars. I want the experience of forgiveness and compassion to be akin to listening to Sticky Fingers for the first time and selfishness like that bit of fraternity hazing where we had to listen to “I’m a Little Tea Pot” on repeat for 6 consecutive hours. But I want my system to be flexible with the times, to realize something good now could be bad a century from now. So don’t make it tied to humans as they themselves are flawed. Make it regulated by emotionless things that have absolutely no scratch in the game- like hyper-intelligent machines. And holy fuck I just described The Matrix. Well, in that case, just hook me up with that blue pill.

[news-mashable-yahoopartner-blog]

The complex allure of cursed images

Everyone has a guilty internet pleasure.

Some spice up their time online by watching porn in an incognito browser, others find solace in binge-scrolling through pages and pages of their co-workers Twitter likes to determine if they have decent morals. And there are hundreds of thousands of people who get their internet kicks by willingly exposing themselves to a daily dose of repulsive, cringeworthy images. 

While recreationally staring at photographs of shit-filled toilet bowls and insultingly tone-deaf stock images might not necessarily have been considered a socially acceptable practice pre-internet, over the past few years accounts like @darkstockphotos, @scarytoilet, and @cursedimages have made celebrating cursed images a common and even somewhat conventional pastime.

SEE ALSO: Alpaca accounts are underrated social media treasures

As dedicated meme-lovers may know, cursed images began gaining attention on Tumblr back in 2015. But after the original @cursedimages Twitter account was created in 2016, the concept of allowing oneself to be openly amused by cursed content started to become more widely embraced.

Over several months, @cursedimages exposed thousands of Twitter timelines to a fair share of visual nightmares, and though the creator stopped posting photographs on Oct. 31, 2016  — with the exception of a single image tweeted in 2017 — they inspired the creation of other accounts that are dedicated to sharing cursed content, such as the photo of Ryan McFarland's DIY guacamole doll serving dish shown below.

cursed image 9192 pic.twitter.com/fuT6bSjZKO

— cursed images (@cursedimages) October 18, 2016

The masters of cursed imagery on what inspired their craft

Shortly after the exhausting 2016 presidential election, fans of @cursedimages began to notice that the beloved account had gone dark. A little over a month later, in hopes of regaining that small and strange, but bizarrely uplifting space online, one brave soul decided to take action. 

"After the 2016 election, my Twitter timeline was a depressing mess," Sarah the 39-year-old who created @cursedimages_2, explained over email. "It made me realize how much I looked forward to their [@cursedimage’s] posts… and after a while I decided to attempt to pick up where they left off."

"I was an instant fan of the original account. The images were weird and creepy and I loved the idea of the ‘cursed image’ being numbered, as if it'd been pulled from some deep, classified archive," Sarah said. So she set out to share her own cursed images, starting with cursed image 7285 — a girl and her doll. 

cursed image 7285 pic.twitter.com/X54JvWMrtA

— cursed images (@cursedimages_2) December 27, 2016

While Sarah was busy posting photos of culinary abominations, nail art fails, creepy costumes, and NSFW optical illusions, a man named Andy Kelly was inspired to throw his hat in the cursed imagery ring. In June 2017, after years of finding amusement in the absurd collection of stock images on sites like Getty and Shutterstock, Kelly decided to create @darkstockphotos — a place where he could share the especially confounding stock images he stumbled upon with the rest of the world.

"In the depths of these sites, 30 pages into a search, I started noticing images that weren't like the others; images that were darker and more disturbing, illustrating some really heavy subject matter, but still fundamentally absurd," Kelly explained. "And so I decided to start collecting some of the weirdest, darkest, and most bewildering I found and posting them on Twitter."

pic.twitter.com/6LRutwVfzS

— Dark Stock Photos (@darkstockphotos) October 2, 2018

Now, more than 360,000 followers subscribe to see Kelly's curated timeline of stock photos that attempted to visually represent violence, addiction, depression, and a slew of other serious topics, but gravely missed the mark. He's even published a book.

Much like Kelly, personal experience is also what inspired Phil, the 24-year-old behind @scarytoilets to create his cursed accounts. During his time at university in May 2018, after using the restroom at "a particularly bad nightclub," Phil was compelled to start the Toilets with Threatening Auras Facebook page. Shortly after it gained an impressive amount of traction, he started a Twitter account.

pic.twitter.com/54ct63PFQw

— Toilets With Threatening Auras (@scarytoilet) August 11, 2018

"When I set it up it seemed quite funny to explore something so incongruous," Phil said. "And when I delved into the wealth of images that are relevant to the topic is [it] just became even more entertaining." 

Turns out Phil’s obsession with whimsical, creepy, and downright repulsive porcelain thrones was contagious. And there are apparently so many cursed facilities in the world that he now gets the majority of the images he posts from direct messages.

The unusual charm of the cursed image

By nature, many "cursed images" are not meant to be enjoyed. Oftentimes the content they contain is intrinsically repulsive, and therefore, shouldn’t necessarily trigger delight within us. Yet, somehow, so many of them do.

In a 2016 article, New York Magazine’s Brian Feldman noted that the subjects in the images aren’t always what provokes a lingering double take, rather sometimes it’s the poor quality of an image that leaves onlookers with a cursed vibe.

Feldman argued that “Cursed images draw their power not from the actual objects pictured, but from the fact that photos like these are bygone products of antiquated technology.” And while that’s definitely true in certain cases, if you were to show me a photo of a hairless cat staring into a pot of raw chicken, a cloven hoof inexplicably sticking out of a toilet bowl, or a sobbing child holding a gun, I would consider each of those images "cursed," even if Annie Leibovitz shot them using the world’s most expensive camera.

cursed image 594 pic.twitter.com/N3ciIqa3zw

— cursed images (@cursedimages_2) January 4, 2019

pic.twitter.com/JI7R1SyZaO

— Toilets With Threatening Auras (@scarytoilet) January 11, 2019

While there are definitely exceptions, the majority of cursed images shared by these accounts do seem to be at least lightly fucked up. So what is it that makes people feel it's totally and completely OK to smash the like button on them? 

For all three of the account creators I interviewed, the main draw to cursed images is humor, albeit very dark humor.

“Social media can quickly get depressing and it really does help to break it up a bit with other types of content,” Sarah of @cursedimages_2 explained. “For me, the cursed images posts provided an unexpected moment of comic relief. And I think cringe-y stuff kind of makes us feel a little better about ourselves… in a harmless schadenfreude kind of way."

Kelly agrees, adding that the dark stock photos he shares stray so far from reality that he can’t help but find them comical.

"What I find so fascinating, and hilarious, about stock photos is how blunt and artless they are. These photographers will take something serious like, say, seasonal depression. Then they'll illustrate it by having a guy sit in front of a Christmas tree with a bottle of whiskey and a pistol,” he said. “The most serious subject matter is rendered absurd by the lens of the stock photographer, and that is an endless source of amusement for me. They don't reflect reality in any way: they're like some alien's twisted, third-hand approximation of the human experience.”

pic.twitter.com/kj5VtLFJWn

— Dark Stock Photos (@darkstockphotos) September 10, 2018

And though it's occasionally vile, Phil's toilet account also helps people flush away negativity. “I’ve been messaged a few times through both Twitter and Facebook… people telling me they like following because it breaks their timeline or newsfeed," Phil said. “I think it’s nice to see humour in something most people wouldn’t normally. The images usually aren’t really ‘threatening’ but just silly entertainment."

Cursed content gets personal

While humor is definitely a distinct part of the charm surrounding cursed images, the allure is different for everyone, and not strictly confined to a single factor.

John Fio, a 28-year-old explained via Twitter DM that what he likes most about accounts like @cursedimages and @scarytoilet is that "they evoke two eras" of the internet: pre-internet and early-internet.

“Because of the washed-out flash photography, old furniture, and wallpaper you often see, and grainy film quality which obscures the image in fun ways,” many of the images take Fio back to a time before the internet even existed. But sometimes he recognizes images shared on the cursed account from posts in the early 2000s, so they serve as fun throwback posts.

Meanwhile, Lala, a 33-year-old cursed content connoisseur, appreciates the fact that the images make her think.

"I think it's appealing because it speaks to the part of our brains that usually can only begin to imagine the kind of 'horrors' you see there, but they’re real!" Lala said over Twitter DM. "Some are funny, and some are truly disgusting, but most are something we'd never conceptualize in our own imaginations. Like if you asked me to make up a cursed image I think it’d be hard, you just know it when you see it. Almost like a Schrödinger’s cat type thing."

For Zoë, a 28-year-old fan of @cursedimages_2 and @scarytoilet, they feel cursed content "appeals to an organic aesthetic" they've had all their life.

"I grew up in a small town in the Rust Belt and spent most of my free time as a kid playing in old ruined buildings and finding weird shit at thrift stores,"  Zoë explained. "I think these things are very much art projects in a way and i think they began to appeal to a wider audience because of the cultural moment we're at in America and around the world, where it kind of seems like everything is falling apart... and 'cursed content' is kind of a sick, gallows take on consumerism in many ways."

How cursed is too cursed?

While they're far from the darkest spaces on the internet, cursed images and the accounts that share them can be seen as inappropriate to some. The creators are fully committed to posting all things weird and mind-boggling, but on occasion even they encounter lines they don't feel should be crossed. With great horror comes great responsibility.

"There are a lot of 'dark' stock photos that are just matter-of-fact portrayals of really horrible stuff. For example, there's an inordinate amount of images depicting violence against women on these sites. And there's nothing funny about it, so I avoid it," Kelly explained. "To make it on the Twitter feed, an image needs to have something surreal or absurd about it. A touch of the preposterous. And I do like that whenever I post an image that is more dark for the sake of dark, it gets a lot fewer RTs than the others. The readers of Dark Stock Photos are surprisingly discerning."

cursed image 1118 pic.twitter.com/9rOAzrk7r9

— cursed images (@cursedimages_2) November 22, 2018

Sarah of @cursedimages_2 agrees, noting she tries not to post any images that depict "someone getting seriously hurt" or "intentionally hurting an animal."

"There are always gray areas, but the bad ones are usually pretty obvious. In other cases, every once in a while the cringe factor may just be too strong. If I’m on the fence, I’ll text my sister with an image and ask 'too cursed?'" Beyond that, Sarah explained she's also against posting anything that's been Photoshopped because if it's not a real life situation it's not really that cursed. 

The question of crediting images

Aside from a few careful considerations, owners of cursed accounts can pretty much post whatever they like, whenever they like. It sounds like a pretty sweet gig, but there was one concern that came up when talking to fans.

While @darkstockphotos often screenshots watermarked photography from websites, occasionally including some way to track down the original image, many cursed accounts seem to curate photos from the web without giving the original creators proper credit.

"I think that since a lot of the images are stolen... there is an interesting contextual question there about whether these accounts are ethical," Zoë said.

When the original @cursedimages was active it appears an @uncursedimages account attempted to provide attributions to as many of the cursed posts as possible. But nowadays, as most messages are sent from fans, or sourced from message board, the process of properly crediting has fallen by the wayside, which, if you ask me, sounds a bit cursed in its own way.

It's possible that in certain cases the sources of these images are intentionally hidden to protect the people in them or those who posted them, but in Phil's case, the choice not to credit images was a personal one he made when the Toilets With Threatening Auras Facebook page started to gain popularity.

"I used to give credit when some wanted, but I started getting others claiming that they took the photo and it became a bit of mess actually trying to authenticate who the pictures are really taken by," Phil said.

While he has taken several photos down after people called him out for not crediting them, he noted that "most of the time there is little complaint."

As for Kelly, he does his best to include some nod to each image's origin in his tweets. "I'm personally very sensitive to stuff being stolen and re-shared without credit online, so if I felt like Dark Stock Photos was crossing the line in that regard, I wouldn't do it," he said.

Kelly also noted the fact that he makes no money from the Twitter account, and that before making his Dark Stock Photos book, his publisher was sure to purchase licenses for around 100 images they included.

"Of course, if one of the photographers complained I'd take it down straight away," Kelly assured us. "But that hasn't happened yet."

Finding light in the darkness

Ultimately, cursed images are meant to challenge people to look beyond the often hideous exterior and find the humor within. Sure, sometimes the images are fucked up, but they’re fucked up in the best way.

We assume the majority of these cursed images aren’t being shared maliciously, which helps us justify laughing at them. And though the issues most dark stock photos attempt to visually portray are real and serious, we know the photographs are staged and the models aren't in any real peril. 

For those reasons, we allow ourselves to enjoy these incredibly fucked up images with the same grotesque delight we feel when watching Dr. Pimple Popper make pus volcanically erupt or a rat drag a slice of pizza across the floor of a dirty New York subway station.

The accounts are definitely not for everyone, but if think you might be able to find even an ounce of joy from looking at a cursed image through the comfort of your computer or phone screen, give it a shot.

WATCH: Ariana Grande's tattoo flub continues to get roasted in hilarious internet meme — All the Memes

Stock image credits:

[Weird rock twins: DonNichols/Getty Images][Spaghetti twins: harpazo_hope/Getty Images]

[utopianparadoxist]

The pleas of false people mean nothing: Nier’s sound and enemy design carries a vital message.

(This Cannot Continue.)

For Nier/Taroverse Fans: (Skip this section if you’re not one of my tragic people (yet)):

This essay is primarily aimed at fans of Nier:Automata, or at least people interested in it. Or good game and sound design fans in general. 

That said, I am primarily a Homestuck blog, and my perspective will include some comparisons to Homestuck. Don’t worry, nothing you won’t be able to follow-- even if you’ve literally never heard of Homestuck. In fact, you may come away from this with a new area of interest if you’ve exhausted Nier: Automata’s content and it left you hungry for a similar kind of story. 

Even if you can’t imagine reading all of the comic proper, Hiveswap is coming out soon--possibly even this month, and I’m confident that game will make an excellent entry point into the series. I’m also running a youtube channel dedicated to explaining the comic to newcomers, along with potential lore links between the game and the comic, a la Dark Souls.

This piece will include some fairly big Homestuck spoilers, but frankly I don’t think it will matter either way--like with Nier: Automata itself, even spoiling the entire story couldn’t for a second make up for the actual execution.

In any case, No matter how much you’ve interacted with either Nier or Homestuck, you should be able to follow along and enjoy my points about both in this essay just fine. 

I’m also going to avoid spoilers about Nier: Automata for the most part. However, I will be outlining the basic premise of the game and the thematic undercurrents that run through the entire story, so there are obviously some spoilers for the early game.

For Homestuck Fans:  (Skip this section if you’re not one of my tragic people (yet)): 

Yeah, I know I’m in the middle of a whole series of essays on Jake and that I kind of established a strong build up for the next essay. That one’s still coming--I might publish it tonight or maybe tomorrow. I’m excited about it!

But frankly, I kind of went through some really intense and borderline traumatic stuff in my personal life the last couple days. Not to do with Dirkjake or Homestuck at all--everyone who’s read my posts has thus far been terrifically kind to me, and the criticism and feedback I’ve received has been constructive in polishing and framing the next entry. I haven’t gotten a single anon hate message or anything. Thanks for that.

Just to do with some stuff irl, and writing is how I cope, and what happened made me want to write about this right the fuck now. I don’t feel like it can wait, no matter how much I love the subject of Jake English. Given how bombastic I am in those essays, that should give you an idea how strongly I feel about this subject.

I also think that understanding my views on Nier will illuminate how I approach and deconstruct Homestuck from an analytical perspective, and at the very least help you contextualize my ongoing writing on the comic. So this is relevant in the long term anyway, I’m just kind of chagrined I’m essentially pulling an analysis series intermission here. Fucking RIP, I have become my own comedy.

OK, so all that stuff out of the way: This essay will be split into four sub-sections, following a naming convention you should be able to recognize pretty quickly.  I want to talk about the main antagonists in Nier: Automata: 

The Machines, and why they’re currently my favorite antagonists in any video game ever. 

Androids: Data for the uninitiated.

(This Cannot Continue.)

Nier: Automata is the latest entry in what is obscurely understood as the Drakengard-Nier franchise-- A series of action RPG Square-Enix games. Like Homestuck’s Andrew Hussie, most of the Taroverse saga (Drakengard 2 can stay in its corner) was conceptualized and directed by a notable Auteur figure: Yoko Taro- from whom the franchise gets its name. That’s not to say he’s solely responsible for the quality of his games, but simply that this is the reputation he’s earned in the fan community. 

The reason I bring these auteurs up at all is that they both seem concerned with very similar ideas, leading to some peculiar similarities between their works. By bringing up the similarities between them, I feel I can better get at the core of what each series has to offer, and hopefully enticing fans of the one to consider the other.  

Both series include explorations on the nature of existing as part of the Multiverse, along with multiple and sequential apocalyptic scenarios (both stories span over thousands if not millions of years and several civilizations).  They both have questions to ask about the human condition, the nature of power and relationships, and humanity’s relationship with both reality and God. 

If I had to describe my opinion on their philosophical differences in a paragraph, here’s what I’d say: Homestuck explores the concept of the multiverse while presenting a path for how to reach Heaven. The Taroverse explores how it can be used to imagine an endless, cyclical Hell.

If you’re not averse to spoilers or watching some pretty disturbing and depressing stuff and you want to see a fantastic case for this reading of the Taroverse, I suggest watching @pixievalkyrie ’s excellent breakdown of the entire franchise’s history. Fair warning: Trigger warnings for pretty much every kind of horrible abuse and degradation of life imaginable. 

If you want to see my case backed up further for Homestuck, well-- there’s no earthly way to break Homestuck into smaller chunks like the Taroverse allows for, so I suppose you’ll just have to stay tuned to my work and read the comic yourself in the meantime. But Tex Talks does a very good job of explaining the nature of Homestuck’s setting in this video, and I think you’ll find similarities. 

Now we can finally get to talking about the damn game. 

Aliens: The Shape of the Enemy.

(This cannot continue.)

The premise of the game is as follows: After surviving about four distinct apocalyptic events and/or wars, thousands of years in the future, Earth faces an alien invasion. The invasion is successful and drives what’s left of humanity off the planet and onto the Moon. 

The aliens do not fight themselves, however-- instead preferring to build a distinct industry of robotic weapons to fight their war for them: The Machines, our antagonists.

In response to the threat, humanity builds autonomous weapons of their own. Our Protagonists: The Androids. The three primary androids in our story are two combat androids, codenamed 2B and A2, and one scanner/support Android codenamed 9S. Here we see 2B, 9S, and A2--from top left to bottom right.

What’s immediately noticeable is how different Androids and Machines are. 

Androids look and feel, for all intents and purposes, perfectly human. They talk fluently, consider complex problems, and clearly care for each other. They are expressly ordered not to show emotions, but they demonstrably have them anyway. 

Machines, by comparison, look like crude imitations of people, toy-like and expressionless. Their voices are synthesized and robotic, their intonations and accents alien, making it difficult to discern emotion. Machines look mass-produced and cheaply customizable, with a variety of modifications pasted onto a crude and simple base design to fill out enemy types.

Androids are also ridiculously more competent and functional. This is a hack n’ slash game, and the Machines are direct analogs to, say, Heartless from Kingdom Hearts. 

During gameplay, you’ll mow them down by the hundreds practically effortlessly, and though there are some bigger and tougher variants, most of them come across as borderline pathetic in their attempts to fight.

But both kinds of robots share a few similarities, one of which is this: 

They are both connected to Post-Singularity Server networks that give them orders on how to fight their enemy. 

For both Machines and Androids, these supercomputers are the structures actually calling the shots--they’re the sources of the series of orders that lead to a war that seems to span anywhere from centuries to millennia. 

Neither Androids or Machines are calling the shots. But Androids have a design that makes it easy for them to signal feelings and complex internal realities, and Machines are designed to look very easy to dehumanize. 

And this is a Taroverse game, so of course this depressing as hell setup is only the beginning of a long fall down. 

Machines: Sounds that mean nothing. 

(This cannot continue.) Early into the game, 2B and 9S begin to note more and more machines behaving erratically. More and more machines become non-aggressive, staring blankly into space or beginning to ramble about random subjects, wandering the land and modifying themselves based on their environments.

As a player, Your orders are clear: Machines are to be eliminated. These are also the orders of 2B and 9S, and the game has you continue carrying them out mostly unquestioned except through these little niblets of bizarre behavior from the machines. It doesn’t matter anyway--they’re the enemy, and you have to fight to win.  This dynamic comes to its first climax in what will surely become one of the game’s most memorable scenes. 2B and 9S find their way to a small enclave of machines minding their own business, and what they find staggers their imaginations:

These robots are non-hostile. They’re rocking cradles while repeating “Child. Child.” Bumping into each other in suggestive ways while repeating “Love. Love.” and “Together. Forever.” All in those monotone, synthesized voices. Sounding so empty and wrong. 

9S forms an interesting response to this. He says: “Don’t listen to them, 2B. They don’t have any feelings. They’re just imitating human speech.” 

And it’s easy to come to that conclusion, right? It’s not like they emote. It’s not like they’re really able to. Essentially, 9S considers the Machines a threat, first and foremost--so when they act in a way that might engender empathy, he assumes it’s a trick or a ploy--an attempt to win the Androids over in order to hurt them. 

It’s deceitful, but it’s also worse than that. It’s deceit by sheer virtue of it’s premise: Machines cannot possibly say something indicating emotions like love, desire, or care because Machines are not real beings. They aren’t people.

They’re tools and weapons and puppets to a supercomputer’s Agenda-- not autonomous entities who think and feel for themselves, at least as far as he’s concerned. That’s what he was taught by his intelligence server, and that server is really the only source of information in his life. It’s natural to rely on it. 

Still, the machines don’t react to your presence and there’s nowhere to go. The only way forward is through violence. And once you provide it, they answer, with a lone Machine rising up and declaring: 

I’ll get you for this. 

As the fight continues, more and more machines make odd statements as they throw themselves at our protagonists, who demolish them by the dozens. Statements like: I love you! Kill! and Hatred! Pain! The robots suggest they feel what you’re doing. That they know what’s happening to them.  Again, this war has gone on forever, and you--as the Androids--are almost absurdly more powerful than they are. 2B executes machines by the dozens constantly, across every corner of the world she can reach them in. The Machines surely know this as they watch their community die on her sword, one after another. They can likely feel exactly how weak they are. 

But the voices that deliver their pain to the player remain stilted and alien--difficult to recognize. As the battle rises to it’s conclusion, however, one machine voices a thought that catches on. A short, clipped statement every machine can get behind. A meme.  This Cannot Continue. The machines repeat it faster and faster, uniting under a common rallying cry. This tension builds and builds until suddenly, the Machines experience some sort of breakdown, straight up throwing a collective tantrum in (seemingly pantomime) desperation and repeating the words so fast and so often it barely sounds like a recognizable statement and sounds pure like pure cacophony.

Looking at this screenshot might convey some of the effect, but listening to the noise they’re collectively making is really something else. I’d link to the scene, but I don’t want to spoil what they do next. All I’ll say is that once they all gather around this common, desperate thought, they take action. When they do, the music shifts... And the game does something I’ve never seen before.

[Please Listen]

Here’s another area where Nier: Automata is similar to Homestuck. Both properties are downright famous for their use of leitmotif and attaching particular meanings to different musical motifs. (The developer of Undertale, Toby Fox, got his start as a Homestuck musician.) But even in this sense, what Nier: Automata pulls off is uniquely powerful. This song uses everything about itself to inform and flesh out the themes of the game. Once the robots do what they do next, we get an new rendition of the game’s main battle theme. A battle theme titled as Birth of a Wish. 

Right from the title, the song is telling us something. Birth of a Wish (This cannot Continue) qualifies the robot’s collective statement as a wish, a desire. A wish for mercy? For deliverance? For justice, or peace? It’s hard to know. Probably all of the above.  And the song itself tricks the player. Or at least, it tricked me. I should mention that Nier does one thing that Homestuck only really dabbled in: Vocal work. Specifically, vocal work in a made up language-- @pixievalkyrie again comes to my rescue with an excellent breakdown of Emi Evan’s downright staggering artistic achievement in her creation of a composite chaos language derived from most of the major languages on Earth. 

Emi’s music is one of the major reasons I love this franchise, which is to say that when I first listened to this song, I did so actively hoping its vocal works wouldn’t make sense to me. 

And I got what I wanted! The vocals, as usual, were smooth and fascinating but seemingly meaningless enough that I could use the music as a backdrop for my writing--I’ve been listening to this track pretty much nonstop for the last couple of weeks. 

Which made it downright chilling when I realized, quite abruptly, that I was wrong. I have no idea if you noticed while listening to it or not--I genuinely don’t know if I’m an outlier here (pls send me asks with your experience!). But if you didn’t, then listen again: Most of the vocals for this song are written in plain English. 

They consist of three words: This cannot continue. 

The voices of the robots become part of the song. And the song itself is structured such that it informs the nature of their plight. The voices of the robots are barely musical--they are blank statements stated in synthesized monotone, hard to draw sentiment from. 

But they are persistent, barging into the song as forcefully as they possibly can for as long as they can. Their voices don’t rest or stop willingly, seeming as though they’re almost forming a sort of counterbeat to the song’s main line. And when they stop, it is always because they are cut off, shut down and out of the song by the force of the Instruments. 

Which is fitting, because instruments are what deny them in the game, too--after all, the Androids are simply tools. To the humans, to their server, and to you. 

The experience of listening to them goes something like: This cannot continue this cannot continue this cannot continue this cannot-- Over and over again, until the song inevitably drowns them for its climaxes, only for their voices to return once again. 

It’s a marvel of musical storytelling. But what makes it a diamond is what happens next. Later into the game, you come into contact with a village of Machines waving the white flag of surrender. 

These machines inform the androids that they have disconnected from the information network, as have been many other groups of machines across the world. This is the cause for their erratic behavior--these machines now wish only to learn about the world and themselves and live in peace. 

The music for this village is fundamentally different, to go with the information we gain:

[^Please Listen^]

Here the game tips it’s hand for good. I’m genuinely not sure what language this is in, or if it has actual lyrics--but it doesn’t matter. The vocal work is so stellar that the sentiment and meaning are carried in the simple tone of the voices. Like before, the Robots sing in harmony, but they sound deeply different. 

Their voices are still synthesized, but now they suggest an almost melancholy and gentle inquisitiveness. They sound so similar to the childlike voices that actually emote that the two distinct voice tracks flow into each other, rather can harshly contrasting like (This cannot continue)’s voices do. 

The sentiment conveyed is clear, even though in this case the Machines don’t seem to be speaking any language I understand. These are real beings. 

These are real people. These are just a bunch of kids. 

This is only the beginning of the Nier: Automata experience, and it’ll go on to explore so many more concepts that I don’t feel bad about spoiling it. It would be literally impossible for you to guess what happens next, and this isn’t even a quarter into what the game as a whole has to offer. 

But this is where we get off the train of Nier’s plot and into what the game is trying to tell us. There are only two more relevant pieces of information from the story left for me to spoil. After that, I will be discussing only the message the game is trying to send philosophically, without leaning on any more of the story. 

These are two more similarities between Machines and Androids:

1) Machines and Androids are built from the same materials.

2) Machines and Androids both consider their creators their Gods.

As well they should. Because once humans transgress the boundary of creating sentient life, that is what they will have become. And that is not just a possibility. It is an imminent reality of our future, which is coming sooner than you think. Which is why Nier: Automata is more than just a profoundly existential, deeply enjoyable work of art. 

Nier: Automata is a warning.

Humans: Become as Gods.

(This cannot Continue.)

[^Suggested listening^]

The leading scientists and experts of our planet pretty much agree that the Singularity is not just inevitable, but coming fast. The point when the machines we create become advanced enough to recognize and modify themselves, thus beginning a process of autonomous self-improvement that will far outspeed even the increasingly staggering rate of progress we humans are capable of, is coming.

Many of the most successful and scientific minds in our generation have issued dire warnings about AI. Stephen Hawking, Bill Gates, Elon Musk--these are not uninformed people prone to spreading fantasy. I know this sounds like sci-fi drama, but it’s just a fact of life--what’s about to happen is real, and serious people are taking it very seriously. 

We can already reform the very shape of our planet. We can already extend our own lives and perform fucking magic like creating warmth when the world is cold, drawing water from nowhere as soon as we want it, and talk to literally anyone anywhere on the planet because we are all interconnected through a massive, sprawling, infinite plane of ideas and concepts we forced into reality--a composite experience containing all of our minds.

Once we have created life that can evolve without us, that is as aware of the world as we are--then we will really be as good as Gods. And when it happens, it will not save us from ourselves. It won’t fix the world for us.

If we are not mature enough to handle it, if we cannot evolve to the responsibility of our power, then it will without a doubt destroy us as a species. And it will destroy us because of our ability to dehumanize and abuse each other.

We humans have more in common with Androids and Machines than one would initially think. In fact, we have one unnervingly real similarity with both of them:

We have intelligence superstructures that inform how we think about reality and other people, too. You’re reading this on one. This is true whether you’re on Tumblr, Reddit, or wherever else this ends up. 

In this time of intense political division, there two main internets: The Left and The Right. The internet is a marvelous place where we can all talk to each other and transmit ideas, sure. But like with the servers providing information to both Androids and Machines, it’s also where a lot of people get their orders.

But not everyone. Obviously, like in Nier: Automata, the reality is more complicated than that. I just wonder if we will realize that long enough to look at what our world has become and fix it. 

There are people in control of my country right now that view me and the people I love as Machines were viewed by Androids. Our voices are wrong. The shapes and colors of our bodies are unnatural and awkward. The intonations and behaviors we use are strange and eerie to them, and the way we love and wish to present ourselves is incorrect to them. And so when we say we are being hurt it does not matter. We are not real. We cannot say real things.  It is all in service to a greater Agenda. 

The horror of the Machines, and the reason they are important characters, is not because of the threat they pose to the characters or some intrinsic Wrongness they reveal about the nature of life or humans. 

The horror of the Machines is how easy it is to ignore the fact that they feel horror. The horror of the Machines is how easy it is to make them look horrible. The horror of the Machines is that they can speak and speak but the Androids may never choose to listen. 

The horror of the Machines is that they are people, and we have stolen that from them. And if we continue to regard other humans the way we regard the Machines in our own world, once we have achieved Godhood, we will inevitably steal it from each other.  Nier: Automata’s message is clear:

Gods: This cannot continue. 

Very soon in the course of human history, we are going to be faced with a Choice. It is a Choice we will have to make every moment, every instant, for the rest of our lives. It is a Choice we are already making, but which many of us still have the luxury to ignore. Although not for much longer.

We must face this choice, both as a Collective and as Individuals. But the choice of each individual must inevitably come first, because how can we decide how to move forward as a species if we can’t even talk and agree about it? 

What kind of Gods are we going to be? Are we going to be like the Humans and Aliens in Automata? This is a Yoko Taro game, so I don’t think it’s a spoiler to tell you-you won’t like how they end up. 

Personally, I have a suggestion. 

I would like us to be more like Gods from Homestuck.

I like the world they build a lot better.

You can find my writing here, on this blog. You can also find some of my writing on games on ZEAL, and find my series aiming to make Homestuck accessible to non-fans on my youtube channel. If you like my writing and would like to support me in the endeavor of creating more of it, it would also seriously help me out if you pledged to my Patreon. I’ll be more than satisfied if my words move you enough to simply choose to share them with others, though.   Doing so will also get you access to my Discord server, where I’m more than willing to answer questions about Homestuck and Hiveswap whether you’re a long time fan or just getting into them for the first time. I’ll still answer questions if you just send me an ask on Tumblr, but I’m basically always busy with writing or helping to run the communities I am a part of, so answering questions can’t be my top priority at the moment. I’ll get around to all asks, but it might take time. 

Regardless, if you made it this far I am deeply, deeply grateful. More grateful than I think I can express in mere words. I hope my words change something for someone, somewhere. I hope my words change something for me.

Because this cannot continue.

See you again soon, everyone. 

Until then, keep rising. 

[thecoroutfitters]

Don’t neglect to take notes each time you cite the sources. An individual need not open an essay about football, for example, with a comprehensive clarification of what football is, although the sport is of miniscule consequence past the entertainment it gives. As you see, it’s possible to generate a sample paper really beneficial to you.

Likewise in addition, it can help you in the academic front. Another intriguing medium to get knowledge is by way of gk quizzes. You would wind up ditching a bit of writing when you don’t realize what you’re reading.

It helps if they’re a singer and a songwriter, but this isn’t even the most essential trait. Critiquing a song is a significant Custom Writing UK way to boost your comprehension of the elements which make music. How to Become a Hit Songwriter will inform you how to promote your song so that they won’t be in a position to tell that you’re one.

Write a solo show about doing it. Quite simply, it’s a great ballad in the Hero tradition. Many people might not think so but a song could be hard to analyze.

Who Else Wants to Learn About Essay about a Song?

You have made a personal window in your life and it will become uncomfortable to keep reading. You should tie 1 idea to the next, so the reader can follow through. It would be unlikely that this kind of piece would have been allowed to go into the canon 6.

The 30-Second Trick for Essay about a Song

You’ve already summarized your paper in your very first paragraph. You must begin this paragraph by utilizing such phrases as in conclusion, ultimately, to sum up. It should be devoted to a certain piece of information.

Romeo in the start of the play was crying about how he could barely get Rosaline, a Capulet. The second body paragraph addresses the 2nd strongest argument, i.e. this component of writing a 5 paragraph essay ought to be a logical following of the primary body paragraph. It would be discussing the information that you provided in the introduction https://www.roanestate.edu/owl/persuasive.html of the essay, in case you are dealing with multiple causes or effects, you can discuss them one by one in separate paragraphs.

You can aid your child think what are the absolute most memorable and unique things that they’ve done during their trip. You must be in a relationship, you should find somebody you love. For the former, it appears just a matter of time.

The fantastic thing, she stated, is that I simply don’t need to provide a fuck anymore. If you’ve been writing in a particular spot for a little while and realize that you’re starting to receive stale writing there, locate a new location. Think of all of the things you could write about the subject of your pick.

Since you may observe this infographics consists of all needed info. You don’t need to compose the reference page. 1 such topic is their favourite holiday.

Including all these aspects in your critique will make certain you are in possession of a complete and thorough review of the music. Sample Analytical Paper Topics The next paper topics are intended to check your comprehension of the novel by providing you with the chance to analyze some of the significant themes of Song of Solomon. You will locate many intriguing topics to think about.

The Bizarre Secret of Essay about a Song

You should put some efforts to generate your ideas shine! If you obscure the facts, you’re defeating the objective. General knowledge is quite vital in our lives and quizzes are an intriguing approach to remain aware and updated.

Then, you’ve got to create a claim. Additionally, there are online metronomes which you’ll be able to find by using Google. Make certain you invest time to look for the rules.

There is very little substance necessary for a business to term a holiday ‘ecotourism’ and they frequently fail to go scrutinized by consumers. If you’re looking for assistance with your essay then we provide a comprehensive writing service given by fully qualified academics in your area of study. What you should not find in an admission essay to start with, there shouldn’t be a mismatch between your individual targets and the goals of the graduate program.

An excellent essay topic is one which explores ways to truly feel proud of yourself. Nowadays it’s very difficult to locate a trustworthy essay writing service. The diagnostic essay is a significant piece to me because its the very first college English paper which I wrote.

You’re going to want a researched essay. At our essay assistance, essays are always delivered in a brief moment. You must also understand how to compose a persuasive essay, namely how to organize elements of the persuasive essay in the manner in which that will do the job best.

With this kind of an essay topic, there are a number of ideas that it is possible to center your essay on. For those students who don’t have the know-how, they can enlist assistance from experts who know how to compose a 5 paragraph essay. Fortunately, the job of writing an academic essay gets much easier when you understand how to structure paragraphs.

from Patriot Prepper Don't forget to visit the store and pick up some gear at The COR Outfitters. Are you ready for any situation? #SurvivalFirestarter #SurvivalBugOutBackpack #PrepperSurvivalPack #SHTFGear #SHTFBag

[trendingnewsb]

5 Bizarrely Specific Things Every Sci-Fi Movie Does

Anything is possible in science fiction! You can explore the future, delve into the past, chronicle alien civilizations, and probe the endless possibilities of time and space. The genre is limited by nothing but human imagination. Unfortunately, human imagination seems like it was depleted sometime in the 1970s, because no matter what obscure corner of the galaxy you warp to, some things never change. Like how …

5

The Only Design Philosophy In The Future Is “More Angles!”

Coming up with a new sci-fi aesthetic is tough. Luckily, there’s a shortcut that does about 80 percent of the work: Add some unnecessary angles! Tilt half of it, chop off a corner — it doesn’t matter how you make those angles happen, or what they might possibly be good for. Everything in the future has at least seven unnecessary zigzags.

Universal TelevisionThis isnt paper; this is space paper. You can tell because they cut the corners off, as is space custom.

Most cars in modern sci-fi movies are nothing but contemporary designs with all the curves replaced by straight lines. Here’s one from the original Total Recall that is so much from the future that you might almost say it looks stupid and ridiculous.

TriStar Pictures“WAOW, LOOK AT DAT IDIOT CAHHH. DIS IS A VERY DUMB FUTAH.”

The 2017 Ghost In The Shell remake took the same approach, and wound up with a “futuristic car” that more resembles a 1983 Datsun.

Paramount PicturesAnd made less at the box office than a 1983 Datsun is worth.

After 2025, all windows are uselessly weird trapezoids. Here’s what the poor bastards in Empire Strikes Back have to look through when they want to see outer space:

LucasfilmBetter check your blind spot. All 26 of them.

Jupiter Ascending also knows that good science fiction is all about inconvenient angles and unnecessary corners.

Warner Bros. PicturesIt is the year 2060. Window manufacturers have gone mad, and the whole world suffers.

Here’s a cockpit from Prometheus, apparently designed by a drunken spider:

20th Century FoxThe script was written the same way.

In the future, we will invent six brand-new, never-before-seen angles, and we will use them everywhere. From the landscaping in Star Trek …

Paramount Pictures

… to the hallways in Star Wars …

Lucasfilm

… to the maniacally uncomfortable tables in Guardians Of The Galaxy.

Marvel Studios

It’s not clear if this is all some fashion trend or the side effect of cosmic radiation on the human brain. All we know is that no one in the future can stack anything, and it takes 15 hours to measure a room for carpet.

4

All Aliens Eat Bugs

Here on Earth, we eat a wide variety of food. In fact, whole industries have been built around preparing, packaging, marketing, and ultimately ingesting food. Seriously, if you haven’t heard of food, you should Google it. People go nuts for this stuff. But in science fiction, aliens eat insects, grubs, or worms. That’s it. Aliens might have similar dinnerware and mealtime rituals, but they almost always eat swarming plates of live bugs. Take, for instance, the Klingons. They’re a proud warrior race that should probably be eating seared Gorn ribeye for every meal, but instead they sit down to bowls of worms, like a bunch of chickens. They gussy them up like they’re some kind of delicacy called Gagh, but look at it. It’s worms.

CBS TelevisionThe Klingons might be brave warriors, but they eat like gullible Earth catfish. TuHmoH!

In Babylon 5, a series for nerds who think Star Trek is too approachable, everyone’s favorite food is Spoo. It’s a bunch of cubed worms, and the best way to eat it is when it’s very old. If you’d like to read more about Spoo, please find the angriest comment below describing how we obviously didn’t do our research, or we would know only the Centauri prefer their Spoo to be aged.

Warner Bros. TelevisionAnd now try new Spoo: Chocolate Starlight!

If you’re from outer space, all sustenance comes from slimy, wriggling worms. Here on our planet, we chop and saute and burrito, but aliens find that ridiculous. Here is the alien food from the Fallout series: a sloppy-ass worm on a metal tray.

Bethesda SoftworksYou couldn’t slice that thing over a salad?

In Titan A.E., the chef, who is himself a beetle monster, is inexplicably proud to offer up Akrennian Beetle Sashimi, which is just a writhing trough of insect larva. That’s like going to a human buffet and finding it filled with screaming baby monkeys. In other words, tantalizing and delicious.

20th Century Fox“No offense, chef, but … are these, like, your kids?”

3

Everything In The Future Is Asian (Except The Cast)

If there’s a single unifying element in modern science fiction, it’s this: Asian stuff is sick as hell. From the 1980s on, we pretty much decided that any sci-fi future looks like somebody opened a Radio Shack and a Benihana in the same space. In every dork’s favorite failed show, Firefly, they live in a future so Asian-influenced that people curse in fluent Mandarin, and yet none of them seem to know any Chinese people.

In Blade Runner, the entirety of Los Angeles is a grimy, rain-drenched Little Tokyo. This makes a bit more sense than LA becoming a grimy, rain-drenched El Salvador, but it still has a lot of pagodas and geisha for a multicultural cyber metropolis.

Warner Bros. PicturesNothing says “Future LA” like seventh-century Japan?

And when they rebooted Total Recall to be less fun and more terrible, they decided that “the future” meant an Asian-style parasol in the hand of every extra.

Columbia Pictures“I don’t even think it’s raining.” — Colin Farrell

Even Demolition Man, a movie so stupid it imagined Pizza Hut and Taco Bell would be the food of the future (when it will clearly be Carl’s Jr. and Kenny Rogers Roasters), made sure that even after all culture has been homogenized, kimonos will hang on.

Warner Bros. PicturesAn outfit that says, “My anime pillow wasn’t as durable as I was promised,” and a haircut that says, “Let me speak to your manager.”

All of this would barely be worth mentioning, except that none of these series have an Asian person as anything but an extra, for the most part. It’s as if every sci-fi universe shares a common history wherein all the important Asians were wiped out and the architects of their genocide said, “Oooh, but let’s keep their furniture and robes!”

2

Artificial Humans Always Involve Some Kind Of Milky Liquid

If you see an android in a sci-fi movie, then it’s almost guaranteed that sucker is somehow dependent on white goo. It’s as if robot scientists said, “Look, we can build you a perfect replica of a person, but it only works if we fill it with satin finish house paint.”

In Westworld, the process of creating a host involves submerging an almost-complete body — full skeleton, developed muscles — into a vat of thick milky stuff. The production crew calls it “the skin dip,” and it’s a protein liquid that builds all of the body’s remaining tissues using sci-fi magic.

HBO“BEHOLD AND TREMBLE AT THE HORROR MILK HAS CREATED.” — The National Dairy Council

They probably got that from the original Ghost In The Shell (seen again in the live-action remake), wherein the final stage of the Major’s birth involves dipping her body into a vat of white liquid. Again, a mechanical skeleton monster goes in, and a sexy, sexy human comes out.

Paramount Pictures“Warning: Your sex robot will ship covered in a flaky layer of dried goo. And it won’t be the first time, amirite?” — Shell Instruction Manual

The Alien franchise also features human replicants and white goo. It’s just that this goo squirts out of them like a terrible milk truck accident any time they get hurt. We first saw it 1979, when Ash was torn apart in Alien.

20th Century FoxHe took it pretty well.

We saw it again in 1986, when Lance Henriksen got himself gutted in Aliens, and it happened more recently in 2017’s Alien: Covenant. Basically, any time someone makes a movie about human-like robots is a great time to be a white fluid salesman.

1

In The Future, There Will Be One Font To Rule Them All

Any fully realized sci-fi world contains many different societies, nations, and peoples. This should mean a huge variety in graphic design and typography, but apparently there will be a moment in our future when we all come together and decide that we need only one font: Eurostile.

If the future needs to say something, it does so in Eurostile. The font was originally created by an Italian designer in 1962, and it’s all sci-fi movies have needed since. Here are but a few of the universes which Eurostile has taken over, as well as a fun rhyme you can use to remember them all.

PixarIt’s the only font to survive the apocalypse of Wall-E …

Universal Pictures… and its used to describe Jaegers as they battle kaiju near Bali.

TriStar PicturesIt’s the default web font in Johnny Mnemonic‘s time …

TriStar Pictures… and it beat out Jokerman and Wingdings to be the font of District 9.

Universal PicturesIt’s used on the boats docked at Jurassic World …

Orion Pictures… and you can see it in RoboCop, right behind this mean girl.

TriStar PicturesYou may not remember Elysium, but it too used that font …

TriStar Pictures… and so did Total Recall, on every subway and restaurant.

Warner Bros. Pictures

Sony Pictures ClassicsThe Lego Movie used it, as well as Moon …

Walt Disney Pictures… Eurostile even showed up in the Big Hero 6 cartoon.

Universal PicturesIn Back To The Future, it made energy from waste …

20th Century Fox… and you can spot it in Alien 3, if you have no fucking taste.

PixarYou’ll spot Eurostile in The Incredibles if you have a keen eye …

Warner Bros. Pictures… and in Edge Of Tomorrow, as you watch Tom Cruise die.

TriStar PicturesStarship Troopers used it too. Would you like to know more?

CBS TelevisionThen watch Star Trek: Discovery, you font-hungry whore!

Nathan Kamal lives in Oregon, where he writes. He co-founded Asymmetry Fiction for all your fiction needs.

For more poetry like that, check out Even Superheroes Have Bad Days.

If you loved this article and want more content like this, support our site with a visit to our Contribution Page. Please and thank you.

Read more: http://www.cracked.com/article_25309_5-bizarrely-specific-things-every-sci-fi-movie-does.html

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[thecoroutfitters]

Don’t neglect to take notes each time you cite the sources. An individual need not open an essay about football, for example, with a comprehensive clarification of what football is, although the sport is of miniscule consequence past the entertainment it gives. As you see, it’s possible to generate a sample paper really beneficial to you.

Likewise in addition, it can help you in the academic front. Another intriguing medium to get knowledge is by way of gk quizzes. You would wind up ditching a bit of writing when you don’t realize what you’re reading.

It helps if they’re a singer and a songwriter, but this isn’t even the most essential trait. Critiquing a song is a significant Custom Writing UK way to boost your comprehension of the elements which make music. How to Become a Hit Songwriter will inform you how to promote your song so that they won’t be in a position to tell that you’re one.

Write a solo show about doing it. Quite simply, it’s a great ballad in the Hero tradition. Many people might not think so but a song could be hard to analyze.

Who Else Wants to Learn About Essay about a Song?

You have made a personal window in your life and it will become uncomfortable to keep reading. You should tie 1 idea to the next, so the reader can follow through. It would be unlikely that this kind of piece would have been allowed to go into the canon 6.

The 30-Second Trick for Essay about a Song

You’ve already summarized your paper in your very first paragraph. You must begin this paragraph by utilizing such phrases as in conclusion, ultimately, to sum up. It should be devoted to a certain piece of information.

Romeo in the start of the play was crying about how he could barely get Rosaline, a Capulet. The second body paragraph addresses the 2nd strongest argument, i.e. this component of writing a 5 paragraph essay ought to be a logical following of the primary body paragraph. It would be discussing the information that you provided in the introduction https://www.roanestate.edu/owl/persuasive.html of the essay, in case you are dealing with multiple causes or effects, you can discuss them one by one in separate paragraphs.

You can aid your child think what are the absolute most memorable and unique things that they’ve done during their trip. You must be in a relationship, you should find somebody you love. For the former, it appears just a matter of time.

The fantastic thing, she stated, is that I simply don’t need to provide a fuck anymore. If you’ve been writing in a particular spot for a little while and realize that you’re starting to receive stale writing there, locate a new location. Think of all of the things you could write about the subject of your pick.

Since you may observe this infographics consists of all needed info. You don’t need to compose the reference page. 1 such topic is their favourite holiday.

Including all these aspects in your critique will make certain you are in possession of a complete and thorough review of the music. Sample Analytical Paper Topics The next paper topics are intended to check your comprehension of the novel by providing you with the chance to analyze some of the significant themes of Song of Solomon. You will locate many intriguing topics to think about.

The Bizarre Secret of Essay about a Song

You should put some efforts to generate your ideas shine! If you obscure the facts, you’re defeating the objective. General knowledge is quite vital in our lives and quizzes are an intriguing approach to remain aware and updated.

Then, you’ve got to create a claim. Additionally, there are online metronomes which you’ll be able to find by using Google. Make certain you invest time to look for the rules.

There is very little substance necessary for a business to term a holiday ‘ecotourism’ and they frequently fail to go scrutinized by consumers. If you’re looking for assistance with your essay then we provide a comprehensive writing service given by fully qualified academics in your area of study. What you should not find in an admission essay to start with, there shouldn’t be a mismatch between your individual targets and the goals of the graduate program.

An excellent essay topic is one which explores ways to truly feel proud of yourself. Nowadays it’s very difficult to locate a trustworthy essay writing service. The diagnostic essay is a significant piece to me because its the very first college English paper which I wrote.

You’re going to want a researched essay. At our essay assistance, essays are always delivered in a brief moment. You must also understand how to compose a persuasive essay, namely how to organize elements of the persuasive essay in the manner in which that will do the job best.

With this kind of an essay topic, there are a number of ideas that it is possible to center your essay on. For those students who don’t have the know-how, they can enlist assistance from experts who know how to compose a 5 paragraph essay. Fortunately, the job of writing an academic essay gets much easier when you understand how to structure paragraphs.

from Patriot Prepper Don't forget to visit the store and pick up some gear at The COR Outfitters. Are you ready for any situation? #SurvivalFirestarter #SurvivalBugOutBackpack #PrepperSurvivalPack #SHTFGear #SHTFBag

[thecoroutfitters]

Don’t neglect to take notes each time you cite the sources. An individual need not open an essay about football, for example, with a comprehensive clarification of what football is, although the sport is of miniscule consequence past the entertainment it gives. As you see, it’s possible to generate a sample paper really beneficial to you.

Likewise in addition, it can help you in the academic front. Another intriguing medium to get knowledge is by way of gk quizzes. You would wind up ditching a bit of writing when you don’t realize what you’re reading.

It helps if they’re a singer and a songwriter, but this isn’t even the most essential trait. Critiquing a song is a significant Custom Writing UK way to boost your comprehension of the elements which make music. How to Become a Hit Songwriter will inform you how to promote your song so that they won’t be in a position to tell that you’re one.

Write a solo show about doing it. Quite simply, it’s a great ballad in the Hero tradition. Many people might not think so but a song could be hard to analyze.

Who Else Wants to Learn About Essay about a Song?

You have made a personal window in your life and it will become uncomfortable to keep reading. You should tie 1 idea to the next, so the reader can follow through. It would be unlikely that this kind of piece would have been allowed to go into the canon 6.

The 30-Second Trick for Essay about a Song

You’ve already summarized your paper in your very first paragraph. You must begin this paragraph by utilizing such phrases as in conclusion, ultimately, to sum up. It should be devoted to a certain piece of information.

Romeo in the start of the play was crying about how he could barely get Rosaline, a Capulet. The second body paragraph addresses the 2nd strongest argument, i.e. this component of writing a 5 paragraph essay ought to be a logical following of the primary body paragraph. It would be discussing the information that you provided in the introduction https://www.roanestate.edu/owl/persuasive.html of the essay, in case you are dealing with multiple causes or effects, you can discuss them one by one in separate paragraphs.

You can aid your child think what are the absolute most memorable and unique things that they’ve done during their trip. You must be in a relationship, you should find somebody you love. For the former, it appears just a matter of time.

The fantastic thing, she stated, is that I simply don’t need to provide a fuck anymore. If you’ve been writing in a particular spot for a little while and realize that you’re starting to receive stale writing there, locate a new location. Think of all of the things you could write about the subject of your pick.

Since you may observe this infographics consists of all needed info. You don’t need to compose the reference page. 1 such topic is their favourite holiday.

Including all these aspects in your critique will make certain you are in possession of a complete and thorough review of the music. Sample Analytical Paper Topics The next paper topics are intended to check your comprehension of the novel by providing you with the chance to analyze some of the significant themes of Song of Solomon. You will locate many intriguing topics to think about.

The Bizarre Secret of Essay about a Song

You should put some efforts to generate your ideas shine! If you obscure the facts, you’re defeating the objective. General knowledge is quite vital in our lives and quizzes are an intriguing approach to remain aware and updated.

Then, you’ve got to create a claim. Additionally, there are online metronomes which you’ll be able to find by using Google. Make certain you invest time to look for the rules.

There is very little substance necessary for a business to term a holiday ‘ecotourism’ and they frequently fail to go scrutinized by consumers. If you’re looking for assistance with your essay then we provide a comprehensive writing service given by fully qualified academics in your area of study. What you should not find in an admission essay to start with, there shouldn’t be a mismatch between your individual targets and the goals of the graduate program.

An excellent essay topic is one which explores ways to truly feel proud of yourself. Nowadays it’s very difficult to locate a trustworthy essay writing service. The diagnostic essay is a significant piece to me because its the very first college English paper which I wrote.

You’re going to want a researched essay. At our essay assistance, essays are always delivered in a brief moment. You must also understand how to compose a persuasive essay, namely how to organize elements of the persuasive essay in the manner in which that will do the job best.

With this kind of an essay topic, there are a number of ideas that it is possible to center your essay on. For those students who don’t have the know-how, they can enlist assistance from experts who know how to compose a 5 paragraph essay. Fortunately, the job of writing an academic essay gets much easier when you understand how to structure paragraphs.

from Patriot Prepper Don't forget to visit the store and pick up some gear at The COR Outfitters. Are you ready for any situation? #SurvivalFirestarter #SurvivalBugOutBackpack #PrepperSurvivalPack #SHTFGear #SHTFBag