#one incident and everyones calling for his head? the narrative is clear as day | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

uselessboss · 2 years ago

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A Flower that Could Never Bloom(1/3)

She had to wear a featureless mask.

“Did you hear about Andrews? He practically skyrocket as one of the best in the district!”

“It's almost unbelievable. Who would have guessed that someone as lazy and unmotivated as him would turn a new leaf like that right?”

They gossiped loud and clear as they passed her, throwing glances in her direction to check her reaction.

She didn't turn. Her gaze was fixed on the screen of her laptop as her deft fingers tapped on the keys, the click and clack beating rhythmically and unwavering. Her expression emotionless and uncaring much like a cold stone.

Those “news" were of no surprise to her. She was already aware of her partner's feats, more so than the gossipers could ever know as she secretly kept tabs on him even after they cut contact with each other.

By her calculations, the anonymous congratulatory bouquet of flowers must have arrived at his desk by now.

That was the extent her emotions were allowed to reach.

Because she couldn't show that she cared. She needed to have everyone believe in the narrative of her being indifferent and distant – A person that could not confide nor rely on others for anything.

She wanted people to believe in her partner's innocence.

Or...

‘You should never allow anyone to find out what really happened that day Crowa Miller. We could face chaos and mass panic if the existence of such “things” were found out or if people knew that you are not infallible against such threats. You have to be the symbol of hope, protection and safety’

“Look at how she doesn’t even react in the slightest to her ex-partner’s name. Perhaps he's working extra hard because he has to clear his name after she ruined it. Poor guy”

If she had to be a villain then she hoped they would think her partner was at least a victim in this mess.

Which, to be frank, he was. He had been caught in the crossfire of her bad decisions - Her weakness for allowing herself to be used as a tool of murder just so she could allow respite for herself. The blood and lives lost were a sin she should carry alone, it was not his burden and karma to bear.

She got up, startling the person bad mouthing her.

But she didn’t acknowledge nor address them. She picked her cellphone, voice calm and controlled as she answered the call requesting her presence, and of her team, to arms.

She walked away, passing by the earlier gossipers, the stares of disapproval and disgust boring on her back the whole way out as she held tighter to her mask- her steps measured and her voice controlled to not falter. Her head was held up to not reveal any weakness nor any signs that she was affected by the hostility directed at her.

She felt nauseous.

The power to perceive and feel other people’s emotions were a curse in moments like these. She tried her best to tune it out but there was not much she was able to do when they were this overwhelming violent, overpowering and all consuming.

That was what her new routine was like after the incident.

It was awful.

And yet that wasn’t the worst of it.

She clicked the door shut behind her, resting the back of her head on the wooden surface as she let out a sigh that she had been holding back for the entire day.

She stared at the sterile place she called home.

This silence was so much worse.

The cacophony was bad but at least it distracted her from own intrusive thoughts, from things she didn’t want to see, from the reminder that this situation was her fault.

She slid away to the floor as she held her knees close to her body, tucking her head between her arms, shielding her vision away from everything.

She couldn’t say that things were happier for her before the incident but at least she had Saramsrein to be there for her. Even if he could not understand everything, or do anything, at least she could take comfort in having his presence by her side.

He was... No longer there.

And she had only herself to blame for that.

She couldn’t forget the fear she felt that day. The wounds and trauma was still fresh in her mind - THEIR voices, a legion of bitter and vengeful spirits torturing her to compliance, forcing her to enact heinous acts under the guise of being in their rights to do so.

When Saram tried to justify breaking his promise to her grandfather, adding even more to the pile of deaths she stopped seeing him as her old friend. She saw a monster. She saw THEM.

But that was not the only reason to why she couldn’t reach for him anymore.

‘Maybe it would be better if he was sealed again. Maybe... What if grandfather was wrong? That he shouldn’t be allowed to roam free? Perhaps he’s too much of a threat to be left alone, perhaps... Would I even be able to do it? I’m not nearly as strong as grandfather was, I’m weak. I can’t do anything! I can’t do anything! I CAN’T DO ANYTHING!’

The trauma of being rendered powerless blinded her to everything else.

Saramsrein was her friend, someone she knew since her earlier childhood and that had been there for her when her grandfather and her parents had passed away. He was the reason to why she wasn’t completely alone. She knew him better than anyone and yet she faltered, she doubted and felt fear.

It filled her with shame.

She couldn’t bring herself to face him when she still felt like that. When, despite knowing all of this, she couldn’t help but still tremble.

She wished she could cry.

But she knew it would be pointless.

After all who would be there to comfort her? It would only feel worse, it would only make her feel more lonely than she already was.

“For this case we are going to work with Miller’s team”

She really disliked working with this guy.

Out of everyone, his jealousy, ressentment and envy was the worst. He didn’t even make an effort to hide his contempt towards her, not even because of her being a “criminal”, but more so for having the same rank and authority as him despite being younger. It was disgusting.

As always, she tried to tune it out. His feelings, everyone’s glowering glares at her, the same as always.

Yet something was different this time.

She felt a different gaze.

This man stood tall and proud amidst everyone. The people around him lowered their gazes in fright when they thought she was staring at them but not him. His gaze was unfaltering. It challenged her but not in a disdainful way, if anything, and oddly enough, she thought she even saw a hint of respect in them?

It felt as if she was under a spell. Both of them. They couldn’t take their eyes out of each other the entire time, the world seemingly to disappear as they were captivated by the feeling of intrigue they had towards each other.

“You have been staring at me an awful lot. Can I help you?” she approached him.

“My apologies, I just found you interesting”

“What’s your name?”

“Hills Johannes”

“Johannes huh? I like your eyes” she smiled. “They are pretty vibrant, full of drive and for once it’s not eyes that look at me with jealousy, disdain or fear”

“Was I supposed to fear you?” he smirked, eliciting a genuine laugh from her.

When people said things like that, things like “I don’t fear you”, “You don’t scare me!”, “You are not as threatening as you think you are!” it was under the intention of treating her like a pariah, a monster.

But this man... Johannes, did the exact oppositve. It was as if he was saying that she was no Bogeyman, just a regular human.

What a sassy and witty person.

She thinks she likes him.

“This was an enjoyable small talk. I hope to see you later Mr. Johannes”

“Likewise”

He was full of surprises.

She didn’t expect him to volunteer to work with her, to take interest in what she did and engage in small but pleasant interactions with her, initiated on his own accord.

It was... A first for her.

No one had done that before. Even before the incident, no one had tried to reach, to seek her out out of their own volition, because it was something they actually wanted.

“You are quite something else” he praised. “Not only for having good and discerning eyes for solving cases but also formidable when fighting. It’s incredible how sharp your instincts and reflexes are”

“…However?” she replied. “I’m sensing a follow-up there”

“I think this wouldn’t be an appropriate time to go more in-depth about it, perhaps later when you have spare time?”

He wanted to extend their time together!

She felt her heart drum in nerves and antecipation at the prospect of someone genuinely wanting her company.

Who was this man?

“Hills Johannes? He’s a dick”

Huh. That was unexpected.

“That guy is an insufferable prick that thinks he’s better than everyone else”

“Yeah, he also looks down on everyone as if we are lesser than worms”

She asked everywhere but the answers remained consistently the same.

Which made it even more puzzling.

She was know as a deranged criminal that was rumored to have earned her position by foul play. She, out of everyone, should evoke the most repulse, derision and scorn from him and yet he did not regard her with contempt nor disdain.

He had a sharp tongue. He did challenge and provoke her at every chance he got and he did watch for her reactions but she wouldn’t call those an attempt at tripping and humilliating her.

Because if that was his intention then what would explain the twinkle in his eyes and the smile in his lips as she answered in kind to his challenge?

“Hello Mr. Johannes, your timing is impeccable, we just finished things here”

She timed it so the agreed place to encounter each other happened at the end of her meeting with the other higher ups.

As she suspected Johannes didn’t seem intimidated at all by their presence. If anything his smirk seemed to widen as they exchanged looks between each other.in complicity.

The scandalized looks around the table as Johannes openly criticized and questioned her leadership were hilarious.

To an outsider it might look as if he was only being disrespectful to her, but she knew better than that.

“Those are valid points” she conceded in good humor as she stood up. “Excuse me gentlemen but I have to retire first, I have some important matters to attend.”

His eyes sparkled in approval. That was the reaction he was looking for.

She might have said that as a banter but at the same time she really meant what she said. As they sat together and perused through the files and records she saw how Johannes assumed a serious and focused gaze, taking notes, making observations, giving her constructive criticism and solid advice.

Maybe it was because she was tired of struggling by herself, maybe it was because she was relieved to finally have someone there for her, maybe she was simply lonely.

“Say... Would you like to be my second-in-command Johannes?”

He showed interest on her but that wasn’t to say that he would be willing to take on her offer, she knew that. Even if she tried to give her best arguments, even if she allowed him to crack her mask.

They were nothing to each other. Not partners, not friends, anything. There was no reason for him to accept her.

“Very well, Crowa Miller”

He grasps her hand.

“I accept your offer”

She felt her heart thud in her chest.

Did someone finally...?

No. Not yet, she couldn’t totally drop her guard, it was still too early, she had to wait and see more, see where this road would take her. She needed to know more about him before making her final judgment.

“I think I got a good grasp of what you are capable of, but now I need to know more about what you CAN’T do. Is there any limitations or reservations I should be aware of?” Miller asked.

He had responded well when she displayed she was up to the challenge he was presenting to her, but what would happen if she the one doing the challenging?

“I suppose you could say that my weakness is my inability to get along with other people” he states, very matter-of-fact. “The people around me… They are small, pathetic and worthless".

Huh, so there was some truth to the rumors spoken about him. Johannes really did not think highly of his peers.

Still, despite how it looked she couldn’t help but feel like there was more to it than a simple case of arrogance.

“Well, besides you, of course"

“And why is that?”

It was a question that she wondered for a while since they first met.

“Your eyes. They are different from everyone’s else. You don’t look down on me, you listen to me and treat me as if I am your equal".

She thinks she’s starting to get it.

His face shifts into a frown as he leans close to her, voice low as his eyes meet with hers.

“You understand right? Because you are also surrounded by it. The jealousy, the resentment, people that would rejoice in seeing our downfall, spewing nothing but trash out of their mouths.”

Johannes was, to put simply, a man moved by pride, logic and ambition.

To someone like him, that always aimed to improve and sharpen his craft and skills he saw any sign of mediocrity, of “settling for less” as an affront. He expected people to answer to his inquiries with arguments so words spoken out of an emotional outburst and derison to bring him down had a very averse effect on him.

She could sympathize a bit with his frustrations but she knew that things were not as simple as that.

She thought about her partner, Andrews.

“Just because they don’t say anything it doesn’t mean they don’t have anything to say”. She cuts in. “There could be several reasons for them to not voice their opinions, up to, and including, not being given the opportunity or being discouraged from doing it”.

She looks straight into his eyes as she emphasizes the last point.

“Your argument does not convince me.” Her features get severe. “It’s nothing but conjecture unless you give me proof to back this claim up".

It was a dangerous thing, to think of speculations as definitives.

Her partner was proof of that. If it depended on the people that were unwilling to give him a chance then he would never been able to flourish, never been able to show where his potential truly lied on.

“You are also an example of that you know?”

“Huh?”

“You have quite a lot of bad rumors surrounding you. About you being an arrogant asshole that is full of hot air, acting high and mighty all the time”. Her lips quirky up in amusement as she relays everything she heard about him. “If I believed that this was all you had going for you I wouldn’t have bothered to seek you out at all"

So, how was he going to respond to this argument?

“I still stand that I did the right call when I sought to find out who you were with my own eyes. Otherwise I would have missed on meeting an interesting and intelligent person with a penchant of amusing shit-talking and that would have been my loss”

“What would you like me to do?”

He responded... Surprisingly well.

It shouldn’t really be a surprise as he had encouraged her to be equally as frank with him in all their interactions, but still, that was reassuring to know.

That he was so self-assured of himself, that he was willing to listen to her and put so much stock in her opinion as well.

“Your words also got me to wonder about something as well”

“What would that be?”

“Pardon?”

“You have quite a lot of rumors surrounding yourself too Ms. Miller”

“... And what do you think about them?”

That was another mystery that has been plaguing her thoughts.

Everyone knew about her bad reputation. Johannes had to know about them so why he acted as if they were of no matter to him?

“To me it sounds like a farce”

“There’s evidence for it”

“Yes, I checked the reports" he concurs. “But there are some discrepancies about it that leads me to doubt the veracity of the report”

“Discrepancies?”

“Namely, your behavior” Johannes’ sharp cat eyes stared directly into hers. “You don’t act like someone who did it”

“And what’s that supposed to be?”

“You don’t try to justify yourself as if you are in the right and yet you also do not apologize enough to pass as a remorseful criminal that had seen the errors of their ways” He explains. “You don’t do anything to address the claims nor the disparaging people does to you, which leads me to conclude that you were set up for it. Like a scapegoat”

Her breath stuttered in her lungs.

She knew Johannes was very smart, but still. He was very perceptive.

“Seems like I was right in my assertions” he chuckles. “But don’t worry, I won’t prod further, I surmise that you are willing to take the blame for a reason right?”

“That’s...”

“Unless this secret is one those ‘conspiracy’ types that requires me to be “silenced”” he snarks, making her laugh.

“No, it’s nothing like that. Don’t worry, you are safe with me”

She wasn’t a confrotational person. She was bad at putting herself “out there” and voicing her inner grievances, but around Johannes she felt it was easier to do so. She felt bolder, more confident and perhaps even more self-assured. The way he looked at her... Treating her like she was worth of respect, she couldn’t help but want to reciprocate those beliefs and expectations.

It brought her no small amount of joy when she started to hear the new rumors about him, that people are starting to see him in a more positive light and recognizing his skills.

Everyone but his boss.

“CROWA MILLER WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?!”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“You know what I am talking about. You are feeding these...THESE DELUSIONS to that arrogant brat and now he thinks HE IS the boss of my unit”

“According to what his peers say that is not what’s happening” she answers in an even voice. “He’s merely giving advice”

“Yeah, right, people are disobeying MY direct orders because of that br-”

“I have been hearing a lot of praise about his growth from everyone” She cuts him out. “You seem to be the only one taking issue with that so maybe YOU should be the one that has to rethink your approach?”

That shut the older man up on the spot.

He was not expecting her to talk back.

Maybe Johannes really is rubbing off on her.

The man glared at her, but did not say more after that. Cursing under his breath, he stomped away and violently shut the door on his way out.

That would be not the last time she saw him.

Maybe she shouldn’t have openly disparaged him like this.

With the passing of the days and with each time she crossed his path she felt a sense of unease at the pit of her stomach. The malice, hatred, pettiness and envy was oozing out of him like waves, so strong and putrid that she had to control herself to not retch at it.

She had warned Johannes about it and she knew how smart he really was but she couldn’t help but worry.

She had a bad feeling about this.

Not being able to ignore her worries, she went to check on him.

“Where’s Johannes?”

“T-That’s...”

“What happened to him?” Her voice dropped deadly serious, almost to a menacing growl.

"I-It's not my fault! If I hadn't done that my boss would have fired me and I need to keep my job! I.."

"Where' s Johannes?"

"He's..."

=_=_=_=_=_=_=_=

She started to jump from roof to roof as she tried to find him.

His boss, that unscrupulous and coward swine had set him up.

Through bribery and threats, he made Johannes’ colleagues lead him to a trap, abandoning him in the heart of the lion’s den of the criminal group, with no support coming to rescue him.

Focus. Focus. Focus

Her glowed.

She would use every once of her power to find him. To save him.

‘Call for me Johannes. Please...’

A call for help.

She found it! It was close by!

But why was his distress and fear increasing?

With her heartbeat deafening to her own ears she dove through the concrete of the building, protecting her arms from the impact and immediately springing back to run in the direction of the source of the distress.

“I found the police dog!”

Johannes was on the floor, wounded, his eyes closed as he braced himself as a man pointed his gun at him.

She saw red at this moment.

CRACK!

She broke the assailant’s bones.

“I am glad I came just in time”

“Miller?!”

She... Had arrived on time.

Thank goodness.

=_=_=_=_=_=_=

“I think this will help hold everything together” she nods as she finishes bandaging his wounds up “ But just in case it’s better to bring you for a check up to make sure there are no infec-”

“CROWA MILLER!!”

She recognized that voice.

“WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?! TO BUTT IN OUR CASE YOU FUCKING W-”

“What kind of lowlife are you?” She growled as she gripped the front of his shirt single handed, raising him up in the air, the feet of the older man flailing in panic as she started to shake him like a ragdoll.

She was so mad.

It was the first time in her entire life that she felt a boiling anger and rage like this.

When she remembers his wounds, his distress, his fear, how he was seconds away from dying... She saw red. She wanted to crush whoever was the fool that dared to hurt him.

“I will make sure you lose your position.” That was not a warning, it was a promise. “I will make sure that you will never be able to hurt a single hair of Johannes' ever again”

=_=_=_=_=_=_=_=

“Thank you for saving my life” Johannes greets from his hospital bed.

“How are you doing?”

“Thankfully no lasting damage, I just need to wait for the wound on my leg to close properly and then I will be good to go”

“That’s a relief to hear” she sagged her shoulders as she sat on the chair nearby, scootting closer to him.

“Do you personally come to check on your future subordinates and mobilize an entire team to guarantee their safety or should I consider this a special treatment?” Johannes quips, amused.

“That...”

She laughs.

She thinks over the myriad of emotions she had experienced and expressed ever since she met him. Even things she thought she would never be able to feel like pride and anger.

It seemed that she’s unable to hold herself back when around him.

What a man. An unbeliveable and extraordinary man.

“Perhaps so” she grins.

“After all you are Hills Johannes, my right hand man”

#My useless invincible boss #Crowa Miller(useless boss)#Hills Johannes(useless boss)

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sasa-gay-yo · 4 years ago

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Just Us (Chapter Fifteen: Dedicate Your Heart)

← Chapter Fourteen

I thought I was going to die. Sitting there hearing his pompous ass ramble on about how better his life than ours in the Capital was going to make me go crazy if he didn’t stop. He seemed to enjoy it too. The way his lips curled into a smirk when he heard Jonas groan next to me as he went on and on about the luxuries of the capital and what the Military Police get for their monthly bonus. I was just trying to keep my best behavior up because Ben had threatened Jonas and me before this meet-up. It was even worse than I thought it was going to be too because Catrin wasn’t there to talk over him. I’d rather hear her babble on about her baby and hair salon than whatever shit is coming out of his mouth now. Duran was point-blank lying about all of this and you knew it. MPs just sit around and do nothing in the capital, and now he was accepted to join a special team that was so top secret, he could only tell us every detail? I didn’t buy it. Also, how was he considered an elite soldier? These were all the thoughts running through your mind while he talked.

“That sounds like an amazing opportunity for you Duran. Maybe we can visit you as a family in the capital after your training.” I also laughed at Ben’s proposal, knowing good and well I was never going to willingly venture onto Duran’s turf where he can bullshit to us even more. If anything, we should show up at a random time so he’s taken by surprise and can’t cover up his lies with a few changes of cash.

“But enough about me,” he feigned, “What’s been going on with you all here back home?” Ben looked at Jonas and me, then to his wife, and realized that he was the only one willing to talk, so he started off about his job and the cafe. I knew I’d be next, so I was trying to build some narrative in my head that Duran couldn’t pick apart. In the middle of the part where I’m trying to figure out how to not tell him about closing the shop for a period of time, Jonas kicked me under the table. As annoyed as I was, when I saw him move his head towards the back door I was the first one out of my chair.

“Fresh air,” I mumbled, before walking out, not hearing Duran’s comment when Jonas got up to join me.

“Those two finally together?” I slammed the door, forgetting that Jonas was right behind, and he walked out holding his head. I mumbled sorry before starting up the ladder to the roof. The spot that Jonas and I always went to do nothing. Once on the roof, it gave a nice view across Trost and I could see the top of the walls where the guns and Garrison sat in wait. A few days ago, the whole of Trost was awoken by cannon fire, and it took all but two hours for the café to be bustling with the rumors that the first titan had reached the outside of Trost. To say it was scary was an understatement, but it was overly annoying that now the people were rejoicing how close the Scouts were to save Trost if anything happened. I don't remember those praises when the mission to reclaim the wall had happened. How easily they could switch up because they needed personal protection astounded me. After that incident, the Scouts had allocated a few people to stand watch every day at the wall to kill any abnormal or call for help if the titans that destroyed Shiganshia were back again. It was morbid, but I was waiting for the day that the Colossal Titan, as people were calling it, reached a hand over Trost’s walls. Staring at them now, I could just picture it.

“Penny for your thought, Ev?” Jonas took out a pack of cigarettes, a habit he acquired in the past few months, and got something out of his pocket to light it. The roof and outside of my apartment was the only place he could do it without getting yelled at by Ben or his roommates. I had done my best to warm him the first few weeks, but he seemed not to care. Still, I had no idea why he started now when he had years previous to do it.

“Thinking about when the Colossal Titan reaches Trost.” He took a drag and just nodded, counting on comments of morbidity to come from my mouth. It was a common theme now.

“Anything else less… intense? I’m trying to have a relaxing time up here before I have to go down and listen to Duran’s mouth.” I smiled lightly, dangling my legs off the edge of the building. I had to think of something else to say because that’s truly all I was thinking about. These days, I don’t try and let my mind run.

“I was thinking about paying a few petty gang members to jump Duran on his way back to Mitras. You want to donate a few notes?” He sighed, this time shaking his head, but I could see the smile on his face. It was a tempting offer for the day we’ve had to endure.

“Unfortunately, my crime funds have run low. If Catrin was here, she’d donate though.”

“She would.” The wind whipped through once, and I put my arms around myself, regretting not storming out with at least a jacket. It was almost winter. One month till the end of the year. Six months.

“How long did Ben say Duran was staying? Am I going to have to entertain him tomorrow in the café?” Jonas snuffed out his cigarette on the brick before leaning back a bit to feel the wind enter his ashed lungs.

“The week I think. At least he’s not staying in your old bedroom. Now I can’t stay at home when I want to for the next week. I have a double shift in two days and it was so much easier to come back here and sleep.” I groaned. God, I was going to have to entertain him and his new happy-go-lucky attitude. That was the worst part. While he was still annoying, braggy, and covertly malicious, the only thing that changed is that he seemed less interested in fighting outright. Actually, it was even more annoying because there wasn’t anything to call him out for upfront. He hid his ass well and Ben seemed to be eating up this fake persona.

“At least Ben isn’t forcing you to make food for this fucking family picnic inside the walls. It’s your fault for telling him about the meadow. I have no idea why now Ben feels like we need to be a family again, I’m almost thirty.” Jonas huffed one in laughter.

“I could think of a few reasons why, but I’d like to keep the peace we’ve made tonight.” I nodded, knowing what some of those reasons were.

“I’m glad you’ve made that decision.” He threw the cigarette off the building and I watched it fall and hit the ground. The last spark flew out of it when it hit the mud, and quickly burnt out. I just stared at it for what seemed like forever.

“If you went back to your old self, you know, became happy again, I’m sure Dad wouldn’t force you on family picnics.” Ah, there it was. The daily comment about my state of emotion. It was different than last time. I wasn’t crying anymore and I didn’t show up to the café with bloodshot eyes from no sleep. No, I was calm. I was living on spite. There would be no tears for someone who would never drop them for me. There was anger. Definitely anger. Sometimes it came out too. The latest victim was Elias who had spilled over a whole pail of water and I yelled at him loud enough for Jonas, who was outside throwing away garbage, to hear. I bought him any sweet he wanted from the corner shop to apologize. He wasn’t the only one I’d let my anger out on.

Hange visits me now. I don’t know why she does it, and every time she sits in his seat. At first, it was annoying to be reminded of him, but I grew to like her conversation. Once, however, she talked about him, and I yelled at her to stop. She seemed used to it for some reason, not even flinching with my harsh words. Even after, she continued as nothing happened and let me feel guilty. The last time she came, about the same time the first titan reached Trost, I treated her to an extra tart because of it.

“This is me now, Jonas. Pretty much.” I pushed back the skin on my nails knowing he would protest that.

“No, it’s not. I’ve never seen you act like this. This isn’t you.” I just hummed, agreeing so he would stop pressing it. I’d try my hardest every day to not think about it. One-track mind.

“You two! Come back down! It’s time for dessert!” The door slammed behind Ben, signaling he’d gone back inside after yelling at us. Jonas stood up before I could say something back, motioning that the conversation was done. This is how it usually went. He was too overwhelmed with the fact that I had no emotion anymore and then just left the conversation.

“Well come on then.”

For the rest of the week, my detest towards Duran was building. He came every day to the café, dressed up in his MP uniform, and talked to everyone like he owned the place. Some of the older women also flaunted over him, remembering the days he was here and making some form of fake past where he actually stayed in the café. I couldn’t even remember a clear time when he was in the café while I was working, and I worked there every day. They must have remembered something very, very different than I did. I just stood there and watched with distaste and told all my grievances to Jonas. On the day of the picnic, I was about to completely snap.

The family picnic had included Elias and June and Jonas’s sister. Elias and June had come to the café that morning, asking if they could stay with me since their family was starting another cult meeting and I agreed, knowing it would be a welcoming distraction to Duran. We were now waiting outside Jonas’s house. Waiting for Duran to put his stupid MP gear on. He thought the citizens of Trost would marvel at his status, not having any MPs here, but I told him that they’d rather spit on him. That set him off once, but he easily controlled it. I guess this new squad needed him to control that nasty ass personality to be in it. Good.

“And the person who bought the book said that it was like brand new! Mr. Philpa even commended me on my work! I really think I’m starting to get the hang of it.” I mustered to give June a smile, trying to keep her happy atmosphere up. I would need it today if I was going to be forced to listen to Duran for hours now. Since I insulted him this morning, I was going to have a target on my back the rest of the day. That was very clear when he complimented how well my makeup covered up the huge black circles on my face. Passive aggressive ass.

“Alright, everyone! Time to head out!” Ben was over the moon that his family had gathered to do something. He was the family man, always. It was probably instilled in him by Mrs. Flynn, at least that’s what Catrin had said, and it was getting to be annoying. I could come to their house to eat, but to forcibly make me make food for Duran who was just going to complain about the flavor? I couldn’t handle that. I swore up and down the kitchen when I was making this last night. As we walked to the Trost entrance, Duran just kept talking, and even at the front of the pack with Jonas and Elias, I could still hear him rambling. It was giving me a headache, which was a telltale sign I was going to burst any minute. This is always what happens when I yell at someone. The anger builds up into physical pain, and I can’t get rid of it any other way. In the dead of the night, I’ll wake up from a dream and find no better remedy than yelling Fuck really loud. It’s embarrassing when I forget Jonas is usually on my couch.

“You good?” Jonas leaned in to whisper in my ear and I just looked at him out of the side of my eyes. He got the memo and continued talking to Elias about his school work. It was too loud in this part of Trost, and Duran’s stupid voice was even louder. This coupled with the fact that people would stop to talk to Ben or even me was getting to be way too much. This is why I stayed in the café most of the time.

“Eva, haven’t seen you come this way for a while,” the Garrison captain called out from where he and the morning watch were playing cards on a barrel. At that moment, I vividly remembered punching him in the face, and I was tempted to do it again as he stopped the whole party to talk to me. The way he said it was definitely hinting at the fact that I was no longer in his secretly assessed relationship.

“I’ve just come when you’re not around, Captain. Probably drunk in a pub somewhere.” Duran was the first to hop into the conversation, ready to begin a military circle jerk.

“Evylnn, that’s not how you talk to a military member! Good morning, Captain.” Duran held his hand out to the Captain who gave one weary look at it and shook it. He remembered Duran correctly and he knew how much trouble he’d gotten into as a kid. He was also probably surprised that he had an MP uniform on when he would throw rocks at the Garrison.

“I don’t know what it’s like in Mitras, but that’s how we talk to them here in Trost, Duran. Then again, what would a military mouse like you know?” He turned and glared, making me reminisce about the real Duran. The signature glare was still there. You just had to wait for it.

“We’re just leaving, Captain. Sorry to bother you!” Ben grasped my shoulder, hard, making me pay for what I’d said to both the Captain and Duran. He pulled me too, right to the front where Jonas and the kids were standing. While he pushed me, he whispered a threat in my ear.

“If this picnic is ruined by you, you’re paying.” I didn’t react, even though I wanted to roll my eyes at him. It wouldn’t be my fault if I said something to make everyone uncomfortable. It would be Duran’s fault because he provoked me. I just tsk-ed as he let me go and started walking back to join Analee.

“You don’t know how bad I want to ruin this picnic now, Jonas.” He sighed, but I could definitely tell it was to hide a laugh in front of Elias and June. When we got to the open gate, the Garrison soldiers saw my glare and just let us through without any protest. Usually, this large of a group would be questioned thoroughly, but since I was in it, they knew not to ask me anything. Duran seemed surprised by this and stopped to yell at them for not doing their job, holding us up again. I just stood there, halfway through the tunnel as he blabbed on and on able the Garrison's responsibility like he was their boss. An MP wasn't going to boss Garrison members around, but here he was in his arrogance, trying to do that.

“You don’t know how to do your jobs! If there’s a group this large the-”

“Scouts are coming!” Someone yelled from above the wall, and when I looked out the entrance, I could see the horses nearing the walls. They were leaving late today, but how could I forget it was the first of the month.

“Please, Miss. Flynn, we're going to ask you to move and stay here till the Scouts progress through. It won’t be that long there isn’t a lot of them.” I was touched by one of the Garrison soldiers, and I quickly shrugged their hand off of me, not wanting to move. I could see Erwin now in front of everyone, and subconsciously I was looking for the black hair. Jonas was the one to come over and drag me to the side of the tunnel so I wouldn’t get trampled on impact.

“How could I forget?” I whispered, and I knew he had heard it. Technically, there were supposed to leave by the time I woke up today, making sure I never was tempted to look out my window when they left. Whenever they came back, I would sit in the back room too. I was making such an effort to never see him, but now I was forced to stand here as the Garrison blocked the two sides of the tunnel. Duran and the rest were held back and only Jonas, Elias, June, and I stood in the tunnel. I couldn't even hide. I was there in plain sight and I knew I would be face to face with him. I hardened my face quickly as they approached. He wasn’t going to get to see any emotion from me. Just like he did to me. He stood on his horse right next to Erwin and right in front of me. I didn’t even look at him like I said I was going to do. I stared right at Erwin who was stopped by the Garrison squad leader to do a head and supply count.

“Commander Erwin!” Elias called out, making everyone who didn’t care about our presence now look right at us. I felt the eyes. I heard some of the whispers. Some of them didn’t die between then and now, and they remembered my face. It was telling too that I couldn’t stare at Levi, but I didn’t feel his eyes on me. He didn’t care about me. I had to remind myself about that. He didn’t care. That’s why he left me. He used me. I just had to tell myself this over and over again to try and forget. I was doing so good recently too. I’d only think about him once a day now, but this instance was going to ruin it. If I even glanced and met his eye, it would all be gone.

“Hello, Elias. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. You’ve grown,” he looked over to me, noticing that the two of us were just glaring at him instead of looking at each other, “Eva. It has been too long.” I fought back the urge to scoff, but I knew I had to respond. I had to let him know I wasn’t hurt.

“It has, hasn’t it Commander. If you come to the café with Squad Leader Hange, I’ll treat you.” I smiled. The best smile I had mustered in months. He needed to know I was done. I was past him. I didn’t need him. I didn’t think of him every night. I didn’t regret not sleeping in my bed once with him. He needed to know that I didn’t.

“Of course I’ll take you up on that offer, Eva. Well, we’ll be off.” He nodded down to the Garrison soldier and they moved the blocks out of the way so the horses and carts could continue. When his horse started walking, I thought it safe to look at him. His eyes were filled with that one emotion. The one that was there when he had nightmares. When he confessed his feelings to me. When he told me about his life in the Underground. The emotion, still unnamed to him, I had labeled pain. He was in pain. I hoped my eyes didn’t display the emotion that I was feeling either. With one look up, and one sheer shot of pain through my heart, I looked back down on the ground. He knew. He knew exactly what I’d been through. What I was thinking. And it was sadistic of me to think that for one second that that look of pain was because he missed me. No, it must have pained him to see how hopeless I was. It must have further proved that I couldn’t live without him. Pain. I was feeling pain. I was feeling it this whole time. These whole six months.

“You may carry on, Mr. Flynn.”

“I didn’t know that you knew the Commander of the Scouts, Eva. Fitting.” I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. He was talking about Kristian. I handed the picnic basket of food to Jonas and took one look at Duran and smiled wickedly.

“I’m sorry you’re jealous that I’m closer to high ups than you’ll ever be, Duran. Maybe if you got on your knees for them like you probably did to get on this special squad of yours, then you’d be in my position. Sorry brother, but I’m not hungry anymore. I’ll be cleaning the café.” Ben didn’t stop me, but I knew he was mad. I’d ruined his figurative perfect family picnic and now he was going to have to deal with a pissed-off Duran and talk about me the whole time. I did feel a bit guilty, but I just couldn’t stand being there. Not now. I took the long way home, making sure not to cross the main road, and walked up to my apartment from the back. I shut all my windows too. Loud. Hoping that maybe if he was situated outside my window in formation, he would hear it.

I left those upstairs windows closed for what felt like forever. Jonas would always complain how stuffy it felt with no light besides oil lamps in the living room, but I always yelled at him if he went to touch them. I need to stop myself from being tempted. Every first of the month, I would hear it. I heard the horses and the carts match forward. I listened to Erwin’s speech each time. Every speech had a similar form and ended with the famous line shinzo wo sasageyo. There would be some lowered shouts and then they would all ride off to the other gate into the land of the titans. Give your hearts. How to give your heart when it’s in pieces? That’s what I thought every time and if the windows weren’t closed, I would have looked out to see Levi. Was he looking up at the windows like he used to? Giving me a firm nod before they left, only to do the same when I saw them come back. I wanted to know so bad, so that’s why I kept them shut. If I looked and he didn’t do it, it would ruin the illusion in my mind that somehow he still had feelings for me.

Eren, Armin, and Mikasa came back too. One last time before they were off to training camp. I was touched that they would remember my single act of kindness, and I treated them to their last sweet meal for three years.

“If we can write letters, Miss. Eva, I’ll write one to you.” Armin told me in confidence, and I nodded, telling him that I would like that. Even if I’d known them for so little, it was hard to see them off to training camp. They were cadets now and Eren was still going on about killing all the titans. I guess it was a bit refreshing to see such passion in his eyes, but it still scared me a little. I told him to calm himself down before they stepped off back to their last night in the Garrison storeroom. They waved, even Mikasa, and I made them take a little food-to-go. Once they were done with training, they would be stationed in Trost as cadets before going to be Scouts. They would visit me then, they promised. I would be able to see them all grown up. I also told them that I would probably be able to see them when they graduate regardless, but it gave something for the others to look after. Armin and Mikasa seemed much less enthusiastic to go out in the field and kill titans.

“Their names are Eren, Mikasa, and Armin. At least, Eren said he wanted to join the Scouts.” I passed the cup of coffee over to Hange who seemed to be scribbling furiously in her notebook. I had to even light a candle since she had stayed so late, stuck by some inspiration. After their last exhibition, she’d gotten to study a titan’s gut up close and she said she needed an extra dose of coffee to be able to draw everything.

“If they want to be in the Scouts that bad they will. Only the top 10 people get to be an MP and then the rest usually go to the Garrison. Scouts are a special breed. We usually only get twenty in good years.” I took a sip of my coffee, not caring about how long I’d stay up tonight. I’d probably be here talking to Hange either way. She seems to have made it her mission to not let me feel lonely. Every time she comes she has little tasks for me or something that she needs to consult people for. I never get sleep on the days that Hange comes, but I feel a bit warmer slipping into bed.

“I have a brother who went to the MPs, that means he was in the top ten of his class?” I gave her a look of disbelief. There was no way Duran was actually good at what he did. Top ten my ass. He would be bragging about it if he was.

“The only way they would allow that if most of the top 10 pick Scout or Garrison. The MPs need to hit a certain quota every year, so that could be why. What do you think of this? Is it proportional to the titan's body?” She showed me her notebook and pointed to something that looked like a small intestine. I shrugged.

“Hange, I don’t know what titans look like.” She sighed, nodding.

“You’re right, I forget that you aren’t a Scout. You know, you’re the only person who isn’t a Scout that I know.” I didn’t know if I should take that as a compliment or not.

“Don’t you have a family, Hange?” She pulled back the notebook and erased the part she pointed out at me, redrawing it.

“Well, yeah, but they don’t count. It’s just my parents and they don’t really care about titans either. I think they’re just fascinating.” I gave her a light smile before turning to look out the window at the setting sun. The snow was starting to melt now, but relatively early. I wondered what Eren and the others were doing. If it wasn’t dinner, then probably more training. Their first day was only a few days ago and Hange had told me again about the man who trains them. Hard as a rock and yells really loud. She didn’t have him personally, but he spent his last year in the Scouts when she had just joined.

“I wish I knew more about titans and the military. A lot of people I know are in the military, so it would make sense, you know?” She put her pencil down and crossed her hands.

“If you want to know more about titans I can tell you about all my experiments. If you want to know more about the military, you can ask me. I’ve been there a while.” She pushed her glasses up again and I turned to look at her. Hange really was an almanac in front of me.

“Do titans really look like they draw them in the newspaper? They look like big humans?” A finger went up as she started her lecture.

“Titans have faces like humans sometimes, and other times their features are often... oversaturated. We have no idea why this variation happens occurs. Some look like big versions of you and me, and others look like they have giant eyes, a small forehead, and huge lips. Like three feet long lips. They’re naked too, but without human genitalia. It’s just bare down there. Most of the time, they just look like pink humans. Then there are abnormals.”

“I’ve heard those words before,” I pointed out and she nodded quickly. I wasn’t going to tell her who I heard it from, but I’ve heard it.

“Abnormals are those who don’t act like regular titans. They might have more intelligence or partially weird bodily traits. Some can jump, others can crawl. You probably heard it when people talked about Shiganshina. The two titans that broke through the walls were abnormal. One was taller than the walls and the other was really muscular and had armored plates on its body. And it was yellowy-orange, which is not a titan color. But you want to know why those titans are even more abnormal than abnormals?” Her eyes lit up in the candlelight, and it was almost scary how she was getting when talking about this. I wondered how the Scouts got so lucky to find someone like Hange to discover these things for them.

“Why?”

“They disappeared. Poof!” She yelled using her hands, “Into thin air! No matter which titan they are, the body is always there to cut into. Once we got there, both the Colossal and the Armored Titan were gone in thin air. There was no way that would happen with any normal titan. I just want to know why! This is like one of the biggest titan secrets ever!” They disappeared into thin air?

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“I know!” She seemed delighted with this information, “You can see why people left this out of the newspapers. The citizens would go crazy if they knew a titan that was like 80 meters tall just walked off!” She went off in her usual manic laughter after that, just overly joyed that a titan like this could have an ability like that and she was one of the only people who could figure out the mystery.

“Hange, are you supposed to tell me all of this?” She stopped laughing and blinked once or twice before breaking out into a smile again.

“No.” This made me laugh too. That was Hange’s ability. I don’t laugh unless it’s about her. Really laugh. She says jokes or acts in a way that lightens the mood in the empty café. I thank her for that regularly.

“Hange, it’s getting late, you should probably head out. You have an expedition tomorrow… Unless you want to stay here. I have space upstairs.” This was the first time Hange had come over when an expedition was the next day. She apparently snuck out to come here and it would probably be hard to sneak back in. I knew by the way her eyes lit up too that she was going to agree.

This is how I found that, besides the length of the pants, Hange and I were the same size. She sat on the couch, a blanket around her shoulders, staring down at the notebook with the same intensity as earlier. This would be the first time Hange had stayed over. Hange was also very comfortable with this idea. I offered her space in my bed and she took it right away. However, this began to be a mistake on my part because she couldn’t stop talking next to me.

“This bed is really comfortable, what is it made out of?”

“Feathers.”

“If you had to choose between eating a whole onion or eating a cockroach, what would you pick?”

“Can I choose neither, what kind of question is that?”

“Okay, eaten or stepped on by a titan.”

“... stepped on.”

“I agree!” At first, it was a welcomed distraction. When I was alone in my bed, these were the times I thought of him. Especially since I would wake up to the sounds of the horses at my front door. I wouldn’t cry anymore. It had been too long. Pretty soon, it would be over a year of loneliness and discontent. I hadn’t seen his face since the picnic disaster, and all I had of him were the letters. The letters that I now kept shoved under my mattress so that I could read them. Over and over. The letters that hid his lies. I fed into the lies too. When I read the letters, I didn’t feel alone. I would revert back to the times when I met him. The times when he wrote me these letters. When I was in love. Who am I kidding, I’m still in love. I never forgot. That’s why the letters are sitting under my mattress, right below my arm. It hurt. It always did. Loving someone who didn’t love you back. I never experienced it till now. This was how Jonas felt.

“Eva?” Hange asked, seeing that I was staring up at the ceiling, getting lost in my thoughts. I’d have to remember that she was there. I couldn’t wake up screaming into the night like I had before. She wouldn’t ignore it like Jonas did.

“Yes, Hange?” She shifted so that she was facing me.

“He still asks about you.” My heart clenched and I closed my eyes. No. Not now. It was fueling me. The thought all the way back in my mind. He was lying. He did love me.

“Does he?” It was hard to spit out and it sounded like a whisper when it didn’t mean to be.

“I’m not allowed to tell you everything, but he does. He misses you.”

“Why are you telling me this, Hange?” I could feel her smile next to me, and I turned my head to see it. It was a smile that was hiding secrets from me.

“Because I want to make you two happy again. You two aren’t happy like you were before.” I sighed, turning away from her as I felt tears well in my eyes. There goes my three-month-long record of no crying.

“He doesn’t love me, Hange. You of all people know that.” She tsk-ed, just like him.

“You’ll know soon. Both of you will. I know it.” I sniffled once, and she already had her hand on my back. Great. She heard me. Was she going to tell Levi about this?

“It’ll be okay, Eva. Trust me.”

The next morning, she woke me up. She was already dressed and hopping around the apartment and I just took my first few steps out. The front windows were open too, for the first time in months. The light was radiating down onto the kitchen counter and living room table she was currently sitting at, gathering her things.

“Good morning, sunshine! Isn’t it such a nice day to go see some titans?” I huffed once, rubbing my eyes to get them more awake. This was the earliest I’d been up at in a while. Only Hange would say something like that this early in the morning.

“Don’t you need your gear?” I walked to the kitchen, looking out at her in the living room.

“Moblit will bring it. He knows I’m here. He’s a member of my squad.” I nodded, turning on a kettle to make hot water for coffee. I’d offer it to her as retribution for comforting me last night. Maybe I’d ask her to not tell him what happened either. I didn’t want him to know I was still weak after all this time. She just looked down at her notebook, writing more and more things in it, a book to her left. I never knew how she could read so much.

“Coffee?” I offered to after I poured some, but she shook her head, saying it would make her even more jittery during the expedition. I could already see that when the time entered for the horses to be filling up in Trost’s main drag that she was shaking, not with fear, but excitement. What a weird girl, I thought, shaking my head at her. We talked a bit here and there about the expedition's plans, but at this point, we were both waiting for the Scouts to come and pick her up. I was planning too. Planning whether I would close up those windows as she exited.

When they finally came, she did something unexpected. She grabbed my wrist, letting me put on some proper shoes, and then pulled me down my front stairs to hundreds of eyes preparing for take-off. It was a bit embarrassing that I was just in a single nightgown in front of all of them, and Hange seemed to forget I was only wearing sandals as she pulled me.

“Moblit!” She yelled and pulled me into the middle of the Scouts. Now, I was feeling really watched. Those who survived had now seen my face for the third time. When Hange yelled, a long-faced blonde turned around, ODM gear in his hand. He looked shaken too like he was about to get yelled at.

“Moblit, this is my friend, Eva! I was having a sleepover at her house last night. My gear, thank you!” The blonde man, Moblit, dropped her gear and bowed to me. I bowed a little bit back, putting my hands on my arms. The morning was still not yet a summer one, so wearing nothing over my slip was making me start to freeze. Everyone here had on a coat and the signature green cape while I was bare.

“Hello, Moblit,” I managed out and he turned to Hange to talk about something. I just stood there, not knowing if I was able to just leave, or if Hange had wanted to talk more. With every passing moment, I was getting more and more anxious about seeing one face in the field. That’s why I was staring right at Hange, eyes not moving anywhere no matter how tempted I was.

“Oh my goodness!” Hange announced loudly, making others turn to look again, “You’re freezing! How could I drag you out here like this!?” She turned around to look through the bags on the cart behind her. She was probably looking for something to give me so I wasn’t freezing and shivering. This probably meant that she was going to make me stand and talk to her before Erwin dismissed the families. That’s what usually happened. Some wives, husbands, and families who relocated to Trost would come in the morning to say goodbye for, possibly, the last time, and Erwin would politely dismiss them before giving his big shinzo wo speech.

“Moblit, do we have any extra capes, I can’t find on-” The green dropped over my shoulders rather sloppily, but I could feel the warmth left behind by the previous wearer. I didn’t want to turn behind me to see who it was though. I knew who it was. So did Moblit. So did Hange. So did the others who were still looking at me. They knew who had given me the cape, and they were surprised at the generosity. I was scared. Scared of the generosity. What did it mean? How did it align with what Hange said last night?

Mint, lemon, and cedar.

“Please, don’t expose yourself in front of my cadets.” The horse trotted off to the front, but his foot lightly brushed my back. Just that one touch. That one single second. It sent a chill down my spine. It had been so long since I’d touched him. The last time was our last goodbye. Just like the families here in Trost. I’d held him on my doorstep, right before the expedition, not knowing that it would be our last goodbye.

Hange stood up, giving me the same smile she did last time. It said those two words. Trust me. What was Hange doing? Had she changed his demeanor? Why could I still feel that chill down my spine? Why was I holding his cape so close to me when I should’ve been throwing it on the ground?

I took the cape off my shoulders, taking one look at it before giving it back to Hange. I wouldn’t let him do this. I wouldn’t let him care about me. The chill, however, was unbearable after I handed it back. It wasn’t just the chill of the morning wind anymore. It was the chill of his eyes still on me as I handed it back to Hange.

“I-I need to get the… the café, yeah, I need to get it ready.” She nodded, the smile still on her face, and I turned around to go back up to my apartment.

“That’s cute! Haha, look at this, Moblit. Levi marks his cape with a little L so he knows it’s his!” I stopped walking. I was at the edge of the Scouts, all of them behind me, yet if I looked to my side I would get a view of him. He was always on the right of Erwin. So, that’s what I did. After Hange said that, I looked at him out of the corner of my eye and locked eyes. There it was again. Pain. His eyes were full of pain. Vivid pain that made me feel it too. My heart twisted inside, and I was so close to getting caught if I didn’t stalk up the stairs to my apartment and close the door. I crouched down, my back against the door, the tears coming again. Pain. That’s all I felt. Pain. Why had he done that? Why was I suffering this whole time? Why had he put an L on his cape? What was it supposed to show me? Why were we suffering? Why couldn’t he just tell me plainly? Why couldn’t I understand what he was doing? Why? Why? Why?

I cried through Erwin’s speech, his words a lot louder this time. They were echoing in my head. About sacrifice. About saving the world. Everything that would make an apprehensive cadet ready to go outside the walls and die. And then he ended it. That one phrase.

“Cadets! Scouts! The people of Trost! Shinzo wo sasageyo!” The cries lifted in the air. They made my head hurt. I wondered if Levi heard my cries from inside my apartment. I held my head in my hands.

“I can’t. I can’t dedicate my heart. Not again. Not again.”

Jonas found me like that when I didn’t show up for his morning delivery. The café remained closed that day. And the next. I closed the windows back up too. Jonas didn’t question what happened either. He just stacked up the delivery boxes in the stock room and then left, promising he’d come back later when he was off. When he came back, I was still in the same spot he put me on the couch. He echoed his words from the first time.

“What did he do?” and I just shook my head.

xx just a cute little double update for yall

Chapter Sixteen →

Chapter Masterlist

#levi attack on titan #levi ackerman #levi ackerman scenario #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x oc #attack on titan levi #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan x oc #AoT #aot levi #aot x reader #snk levi #snk x reader #snk #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin levi #Captain Levi

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actualaster · 4 years ago

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Impressions of Episode 2! Spoilers not just for the episode, but for the game--including parts towards the end of the game. Screenshot-heavy

Also, NTWEWY Release Date Trailer reference at one point.

First up! Love the proper intro! Shame about what happened with the original intro being swapped out, there’s some spots where this version of Twister doesn’t quite fit. But it fits better than the use of Calling they used as as a last-second sub in the first episode.

(For those who don’t know, one of the band members for the group that did the original song was involved in a criminal scandal so the music was pulled, apparently that’s not uncommon. I feel more bad for the poor bandmates who’ve had their reputation tarnished by association, y’know?)

so! first up on visuals! New Noise!! Wonder if these will show up in NTWEWY? They don’t look as much like Noise as most others, missing that tattoo component, but they remind me of the Bats and the Sprogs. Curious to see if that happens

FORESHADOWING with MR. PRODUCER HIMSELF.

So, we get some interaction between Neku and Shiki right off the bat when the episode starts, which involves Neku’s whole “I don’t like people” thing, and we see Beat and Rhyme join ‘em and they have a discussion. Get some of the talk of everyone’s values colliding, which IIRC is a W2 sort of convo w/ Asshole Jesus? Can’t quite remember... Either way, get some more insight into the characters.

RHYME IS TOO CUTE HERE THIS IS SO PRECIOUS

Ahaha... This sequence hurts. The framing makes it so clear what they’re getting at with these two being siblings. Also this entire bit is good, helps establish details about the characters both overtly through conversation and subtly, like the framing of this shot.

This part also hurts, Shiki getting so excited she forgets, just for a moment, what’s going on.

Honestly the entire sequence with the Prince is funny, and helps give some good insight into the characters.

Also. Same, Neku, Same. That’s exactly my face when people start losing their minds over some RL celeb that’s apparently sexy or something lol. But also starts to work in the importance of fashion and trends in this sequence.

The description is different but ultimatley the idea seems roughly the same for Imprinting--though Shiki knows what it is rather than Rhyme explaining memes.

(shame we couldn’t get “what’s a meme?” animated lol, but that’s probably just a funny thing in the ENG fandom and it IS based of the JP original ver)

Interesting way they handled Eri here, with her wearing a different outfit.

Dude talking to Makoto’s a Reaper, I’m betting--since he’s lacking that sort of washed out look the RG folks have. Specifically planted here to give the Players the idea for what their mission is, if they’re paying attention to their surroundings and/or in the right area at the start of the day.

Nao and Sota make another appearance after their Ep 1 cameo! Good way to introduce them before W2!

[knee-jerk reaction of screeching because THE FUCKING MOST ANNOYING FUCKING PINS EVER]

Also the fact that the dude in Red who was talking to Makoto says his boss is pressuring him to spread them around makes me pretty confident, aside from the “lacking the washed out RG look” that he’s a Reaper.

This was very interesting--the Support Reaper let them through because Shiki was holding a Keypin. Setting the precedent for “this pin caused a wall to be cleared for us” but at the same time... Not opening the wall itself. And I wonder why the Reaper didn’t seem to care that a Player was holding onto a Keypin? I mean, the Reaper addressed it with “take care of that pin”, so I suppose they’ve acknowledged it but still feels odd. Then again, might be a case of “Player with a Keypin? Higher ups didn’t say anything about that. Welp, not my problem then.” and just not wanting to deal with it lol

also look at the Support Reaper (guy in red w/ the facemask)’s outfit. Compare it to what “Neku” in the end of the latest (as of this posting) NTWEWY trailer was wearing--it’s pretty much identical except “Neku” is wearing black instead of Read (Harrier Reapers wear Black), is this “Neku” in NTWEWY a Reaper now? Or trying to blend in and appear similar to a Reaper for some reason? Or is it just coincidence?

see how similar they look? (I know it looks purple here but the boxart it’s black so I assume it’s just lighting)

Then again, since the art seems the same between game and anime (or very similar, the eyes are handled looking the same it seems to me) it could be something else... (Of course, who even knows if this is the real Neku?)

Anyway...

AHAHAHAHAHAHA Oh shiki, if only you knew that the second player pin is because of the bullet that wasn’t stopped XD

Working trends in somewhat, interesting to see that. Makes total sense they’d do it this way since the “trends change based on what Players use in battle” is a game mechanic that I can’t see being easily worked into the story in another format, so this swap makes plenty of sense. Using Imprinting on the Prince to get him to plug the advert makes sense.

LMAO. SAME NEKU, SAME. THAT IS SUCH A RELATABLE FACE.

I gotta wonder, though--using the Prince this way instead of the Players making it work, seems like that might not make Makoto get a big head about “his” success which would alter things in... W2, right? The ramen shop stuff’s W2.

So. We have a few interesting massive deviations here.

First up, a look at the influence of the Red Skull pin on people.

And second...

A Familiar Looking Noise Symbol, found on the Shibuya River... Megumi’s Noise Symbol.

Obviously a massive deviation as Players start getting Erased--despite the Mission being cleared. Neku and Shiki are on the chopping block when...

A familiar bit of hair reveals their savior who’s not about to let Megumi end their little Game early using some underhanded tactics like “Earsing Players after the Mission is cleared”

I’m very not sure how I feel on a personal level about this decision, but on a narrative level I fully get where they were going with this.

It establishes a very powerful Noise, and if they remain true to the game later it’s foreshadowing that Megumi’s involved heavily. AND it establishes (through subtle implication you’d not necessarily get if this was your first time watching and didn’t catch the hair) that Joshua is a very powerful person. Before being in the Game.

Shiki comments on the unsualness of it, too!

I do, however, think they did real justice to the Eri and Shiki revelation. I still wanna know what that “accident” is that killed Shiki, though.

And here we see a person having his ENTIRE WORLD rocked by the revelation that he’s dead.

Also we got a slight flashback to the incident that killed him, too blurry to see much but a little bit of one. We saw a little of that in Ep 1, too, IIRC.

AND THAT’S IT FOR THE EPISODE

Well. Except for the title card for Episode 3

WHO’S READY TO HAVE THEIR HEARST SHATTERED LIKE GLASS OVER THAT SCENE?!

#twewy #the world ends with you #twewy spoilers #twewy anime #spiderss #bc there's a screenshot of a spider monster #kage watches twewy

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antialiasis · 5 years ago

Text

Jesus Christ Superstar: all of my thoughts

Allll right, this will be me watching my way through Jesus Christ Superstar 2012 (the arena tour with Tim Minchin/Ben Forster) and rambling about e v e r y t h i n g as I go, prompted by me having a lot of thoughts approximately every two minutes while watching it on YouTube/rewatching it/listening to multiple other JCS productions in between. Unusually for me, there will be very little complaining. This production is not perfect but that's not really what I'm here to talk about right now, shush, let me just go on about why I love this musical, at incredible length.

(I will be talking both about particulars in this production and about JCS in general as a narrative, without explicitly distinguishing the two, but please rest assured I do know which is which. I am pretty hardcore, I have seen five different productions live (including the 2013 leg of the arena tour) as well as the movies, listened to a lot of different Gethsemanes, I know this show.)

(this will also jump wildly between deep intellectual analysis and just me shamelessly appreciating the whump content, please bear with me)

can I start off by saying I really love the band and instrumentation and arrangements in 2012

The JCS overture is really long but I love it and it's always fun to see exactly what they do with it when it's staged. This production goes with showing Jesus's followers as protesters clashing with police, following news headlines, and then, during the calm choral "betrayal leitmotif", they're all gathered around Jesus staring at him in the most ominous way - then, as the first notes of "Heaven On Their Minds" play, Jesus closes his eyes and shakes his head a little, as if snapping out of a thought - as if he just felt the coming of betrayal. Neat.

Anyway, "Heaven On Their Minds"! This is such a good song. When I first saw JCS, as my school's production in 2005, and it opened not with Jesus but with Judas, presenting these totally reasonable concerns that he has about Jesus, I was already so intrigued by where this was going. Judas is the actual protagonist of JCS; one of the main narrative things it's doing is telling these events largely from his point of view, imagining how what he did might be interpreted to be sympathetic and understandable. This is why he gets the opening number and the final proper song with the show's closing musings. If you put on JCS and treat it like it's a story about Jesus with Judas as a side character, you're doing it wrong.

The iconic opening riff of “Heaven On Their Minds” is what I’m calling the “Agony” motif in my musical motif chart, because the places it recurs are the moment Judas resolves to hang himself in “Judas’s Death” and... “The 39 Lashes”. Originally I connected it to Judas, but “The 39 Lashes” has nothing at all to do with Judas; instead, the one thing that connects these three occurrences of the motif is pain - which really rather underlines how painful it is when Judas’s mind clears and he sees what lies ahead.

So, Judas: he was one of Jesus's closest friends, and a real, true believer in what this movement was originally about: charity, compassion, noble ideals. But lately, he's seen it turn into more of a cult of personality around Jesus himself - you've begun to matter more than the things you say. Now they're all thinking Jesus is the messiah, the Son of God - and worse, it's like Jesus is starting to believe it himself.

(Tim Minchin does this little frustrated eyeroll on you really do believe this talk of God is true, and I love it. I know his vocal performance is not to everyone's taste, and I get why especially with the unwarranted autotuning on the official recording, but I just love his actual acting here, his expressions and body language, so much. I was watching him for most of the show when I saw this live, because I usually spend most of JCS looking for whether Judas is doing something interesting in the background, and it was choice. Unfortunately the editor for this official recording isn't quite as interested in what Judas is doing in the background as I am, alas, and there are a lot of bits where I'd like to get a better look at him but we don't, but there are still some very good reactions.)

So, the reason this is bad, this whole messiah thing, is not only that calling Jesus their king might rub the authorities the wrong way, but also that now they're all expecting Jesus to up and free them from Roman oppression. Which is just not a thing that he can do! Judas is worried if Jesus doesn't deliver his followers will turn against him (and they'll hurt you when they find they're wrong). He's worried if Jesus actually does try anything, or heaven forbid, his followers just do it on their own - Jesus's words are already being taken out of context and twisted to justify whatever the speaker feels like - if they step so much as a toe over the line, that'll be all the excuse the Romans need to regard the Jewish community as a whole as violent insurgents or a delusional cult and bring in the army. This movement used to be a beautiful thing, but it's become an existential threat with the potential to get them all killed. And - when Judas tries to voice these concerns, Jesus brushes them off. He won't listen. Things are spiraling out of control, and Jesus won't do anything about it.

(Note, by the way, that a big part of Judas's worries is worries about Jesus in particular getting hurt.)

(Judas is very focused here on the future, all these things looming on the horizon that could happen if things continue as they are - so when we transition abruptly into the upbeat "What's the Buzz?", where Jesus tries to get his followers to think less about the future and more about the here and now, for all that it feels like a musical and textual non-sequitur we're actually kind of staying on theme.)

Jesus hasn't been doing anything about things or listening to Judas, and is very focused on the here and now, because as it happens he knows (or at least believes) that in a few days he is going to be tortured and executed, and really he doesn't entirely know what's going to happen after that, and this is pretty terrifying and stressful and right now he's dealing with that by trying to not think about it.

Why are you obsessed with fighting times and fates you can't defy? He basically means this at this point. Why would you try to fight inevitable fates? That’s pointless; it’s not like Jesus would ever do that. You just don’t think about them. Jesus is fine. It’s fine. This is fine.

(Mary is the one person who’s actively helping Jesus take his mind off things and stay in the moment. Emotionally he really needs to just relax and think of nothing and be told everything's all right, and Mary's the person who provides that. She alone has tried to give me what I need right here and now. I contend that this is the main point of Mary's role in the first act of JCS, more than her infatuation with him.)

Buuuut of course Judas has no idea what's behind this. As far as he can tell Jesus is just kind of hypocritically wasting his time on hedonistic indulgence, like the whole Son of God thing's just gone to his head, and like everything else about the situation, it's concerning, and he tries to speak out about it, in “Strange Thing, Mystifying”...

...which prompts Jesus to lash out. There was a sort of frustration behind some of his lines in “What’s the Buzz”, but he still just seemed to be preaching a general philosophy of staying in the here and now. At Judas’s criticisms, though, he's defensive and confrontational, exhorting him to not throw stones... and he's not done: I'm amazed that men like you can be so shallow, thick and slow! There is not a man among you who knows or cares if I come or go!

That's a total strange overreaction, especially since he starts out addressing Judas but then goes on to "There is not a man among you", when nobody else was saying anything, much less anything implying they don't care about Jesus. So, obviously, this isn't really about what Judas just said. What this is showing us is that Jesus has a lot of pent-up frustrations and concerns, too, and he's in a strangely delicate mood. It's kind of an odd sequence watching it for the first time; this lashout is weird! I thought it was weird when I first saw the show! But that’s the point. It’s here because it is weird, because Jesus is not as fine as he seems.

(This is what almost every song with Jesus in it in Act I is about. It's a series of incidents - many of them based on actual bits from the Bible - of Jesus lashing out unexpectedly and/or being strongly disillusioned with his followers and vaguely, bitterly alluding to his upcoming death. The weight of anticipating his own execution is taking a real psychological toll on him from the start, and this is all building towards where all those fears and doubts and worries and anger come out in "Gethsemane". It took me the longest time to properly notice this, that Jesus isn't just sort of being a drama queen out of nowhere here; these events are being presented like this to connect them into a cohesive speculative narrative that this was all just manifestations of Jesus's anxiety about the fact he believes he's going to die in a few days and he's not sure what he's really accomplished.)

While the apostles join together in a chorus of No, you're wrong! You're very wrong!, Judas silently pulls out a cigarette, because 2012 Judas smokes to calm his nerves and I love it. The nerves don't stop him rolling his eyes again in the background at Jesus's Not one of you!, though. (Jesus has probably been having these weird, oddly self-pitying lashouts for a little while now - it feels like a "this again" sort of eye-roll.)

Judas tries again to confront Jesus during "Everything's Alright", even more emphatic, but in a more sincere and genuine way - he really wants to get through to him. No, seriously, Jesus, why are you wasting expensive ointment on your feet and hair when the poor are starving - you know, the thing this movement was supposed to be about. Mary, probably a bit higher in emotional intelligence than Judas, can obviously tell that Jesus is just pretty stressed out right now and really needs some rest, and basically just tries to get Jesus to ignore him until he goes away - but Jesus responds to him anyway. Starts calm, but there's an oddly defeatist quality to what he's saying - there’ll always be poor people, we can't save them, look at the good things you've got... and then he launches into another bitter lashout: Think while you still have me, move while you still see me - you’ll be lost, you'll be so, so sorry, when I'm gone. Strike two on Jesus-is-not-as-fine-as-he-seems.

(Seriously, though, at this point it'd be reasonable to be pretty alarmed; from an outside perspective, these lines sound kind of suicidal. Perhaps that’s why Mary immediately steps in again to try to calm him down.)

Meanwhile, Judas silently backs off. What he takes away from these two confrontations is that Jesus isn't really happy either. He's not actually thrilled with his followers or what’s going on; he just seems to feel helpless and unable to change anything at all, and has apparently just resigned himself to it, instead of even trying to fix it.

I love how gloriously ominous the "Hosanna Superstar" bit of "This Jesus Must Die" is. It really makes this upcoming cheerful song sound like an omen of doom and horror, the way it feels to the Pharisees. It’s the same melody as “We need him crucified” in “Trial Before Pilate” - apt, since the crowd’s devotion to Jesus is the real problem that causes the Pharisees to believe they need to get him killed.

Thus, the Pharisees have basically the same concerns Judas does - Jesus's mass of fans is growing out of control, they're blasphemously insisting he's their king, and it's only a matter of time before this brings the wrath of the Romans down upon the entire Jewish nation. They only go a bit further by believing the only way to properly quash this movement is to put Jesus to death. (Which is kind of dubious - surely there's a danger that martyring him will just make people more devoted - but I appreciate that they, too, get basically sympathetic motivations. It’s the oppression of the Romans that’s the real enemy here; they only see Jesus as a real problem because of how the Romans might react.)

By "Hosanna", Jesus has recovered his usual composure and passion. This is the one Jesus song where he does genuinely seem to be doing all right, and in that way it serves as a good contrast to literally everything else in this musical. In it we see a glimpse of the preacher and activist that he’s been for these three years, almost bursting with glee as he tells the Pharisees they're not going to be quiet at all thank you very much. He preaches his message to the crowd: There is not one of you who cannot win the Kingdom - a kind, positive echo of yesterday's angry lashout. He loves this, and he still loves this movement. This is what it's all supposed to be about.

...only, of course, for some people to yell "Hey, J.C., J.C., won't you die for me!", and he turns his head, his smile fading just a little (I wish the camera stayed on him a little while longer here). But he recovers and carries on. Ha ha, yeah, he'd die for you.

Jesus's own rally leads directly into Simon's rave, full of adoring fans begging Jesus to touch and kiss them. Same enthusiasm, but more obviously a product of that cult of personality that Judas was worried about. And there in the middle of it is Simon, so bright-eyed and enthusiastic about the whole thing, telling him about how with his probably over 50,000 followers, he should add just a smidge of hatred towards the Romans, and you will rise to a greater power, we will win ourselves a home! He's one of those who want Jesus to be leading a violent revolution to free them.

I like how the first portion of "Poor Jerusalem" echoes a slow, somber version of the same melody as "Simon Zealotes" as Jesus laments, almost to himself, that none of them, nobody at all, understands power, or glory, or anything. This time Jesus isn't really angry, just kind of exhausted and contemplative. Nobody really seems to get his message; these poor misguided people won't get the revolution they're hoping for; Jerusalem itself is doomed. The city wouldn't be willing to do what's needed even if they knew.

To conquer death, you only have to die is one of my favorite lines. I’m an atheist, but as a kid I remember being taught at the Christian summer camp I went to that by dying himself, Jesus conquered death. That idea is twisted and presented the other way around here: to conquer death, you only have to die. Only. An darkly ironic presentation of it as if it were easy. It’s not as easy as Jesus would like it to be - but he truly believes that it’s what he must do.

"Pilate's Dream" has the same melody as the second half of “Poor Jerusalem” - because both Jesus and Pilate are contemplating an unsettling future that they have seen.

I do think it's a little wrong that 2012 Pilate chuckles at the end of "Pilate’s Dream”, though. The whole point of this song, as far as I can tell, is that he's unsettled by this dream, and it's probably part of why he's so reluctant to sentence Jesus to death later, so I think it's an incongruous choice to make it seem like he just sort of brushed it off as nonsense.

As I mentioned before, the arena tour staging includes Simon buying a gun during "The Temple", a really chilling detail that I liked a lot and that is in no way discernible in the official recording. Maybe the editor didn't notice, maybe it just wasn't very clear in the footage they got anyway, maybe it's some sort of ratings issue where showing a gun for a few seconds would just be too much (while the lengthy, brutal torture and execution scenes coming up are totally fine). Obviously it doesn't mean anything for the later narrative or anything (especially since the actual narrative is taking place in 33 AD and guns don't actually exist, regardless of the staging choices of any particular production), but it’s a nice way of using staging to lend further support to the overall point of how Jesus's followers variously fail to understand his teachings - it strengthens both Jesus’s and Judas’s concerns.

When Jesus and Judas arrive at the temple, they're arguing once again, though we don't know what about. Given the way Jesus is striding towards the doors and Judas is trying to hold him back, I imagine Judas is worried that doing something like running into the temple and breaking tables and screaming is the sort of attention-grabbing, polarizing stunt that'd be a really bad idea, and Jesus is upset and doesn't care.

(The bouncer doesn't let Judas in. I'm guessing Jesus tells him Judas is harassing him or something, within the staging-narrative where the temple is a nightclub that has a bouncer.)

So Jesus goes and smashes a table and yells at everyone to get out. This is probably where Jesus begins to alienate a lot of people, who were having a great time at the temple only for him to come in and have a breakdown at them.

(He's so angry, breathing hard, fists clenched after everyone's left. This isn't really about the temple either. He's really begun to realize how many of his followers don't get it at all, and he doesn't have time to fix that. He's been trying for so long and he's so tired.)

The leper bit makes a pretty similar point. Jesus wants to help all these people, and tries - but there are too many, and they're crowding him, and he's not going to be around to help them for much longer - so he desperately tells them to heal themselves, and they leave, probably thinking wow Jesus is kind of a jerk.

I'm sorry, I don't have anything to say about "I Don't Know How to Love Him", love ballads are pretty consistently my least favorite song in every musical, I like and appreciate Mary but my investment in this song pretty much begins and ends with its role in setting up the twisted reprise in "Judas's Death"

I enjoy the fourth-wall-leaning audacity of having the guitarist spotlighted on stage playing the solo before "Damned For All Time", and Judas is looking at him like "who are you, go away", and keeps looking evasively back at him while he's slowly getting the Pharisees' number out of his wallet and calling it. (It also helps show Judas feels pretty guilty and shameful about doing this, and works better for that than having extras on stage - if it were extras, we might expect that them witnessing this could actually mean something later, but when it's the guitarist, it's obvious he's just serving as an anonymous stand-in for a hypothetical random stranger who isn't literally part of the story.)

I like the shot of Judas looking into the security camera outside the Pharisees' building. (That’s decidedly not the same hairdo Tim Minchin has on stage, though.)

Judas opens his talk with the Pharisees, without even greeting them first, by frantically justifying himself, talking about how this is weird and hard for him but there was just nothing else he could do, he's not hoping for a reward or anything, he's been forced to do this, he's not a dirty traitor, please don't think that. He really doesn't want to be here. But here he is anyway, because Jesus can't control it like he did before - and furthermore I know that Jesus thinks so too, Jesus wouldn't mind that I'm here with you. He's seen Jesus over the past few days and he's pretty sure he has this figured out. Jesus can see just as well as he does where things are headed - it's just he's helpless to control it and doesn't know what to do about it. So this has to be done. He'd probably want Judas to bail him out of this, just get him arrested and the movement shut down, for everyone's sake. (Jesus is so self-sacrificing, after all.) Right? He'd be fine with this. Right? (Judas is fine.)

("Damned For All Time" is just Judas wildly word-vomiting trying to placate his own guilt and I love it. He's legitimately afraid of where things are headed if he doesn't do this, and thinks it has to ultimately be the right thing, but that doesn't make him feel any better about it.)

(I like how Caiaphas just sort of coolly listens to him ramble his head off like this while he sips his drink.)

Judas goes for a cigarette again (calming those nerves), and Annas helpfully lights it for him - prompting Judas's next ramble. Annas, you're a friend, a worldly man and wise - Caiaphas, my friend, I know you sympathize. It's not like he's selling Jesus out to anyone unreasonable. Annas is nice! We three, we get it, right? You get it. We're the people who can see when a difficult thing just has to be done, did I mention I HAVE to do this and this is not about money - only for Annas to tell him to cut it out with this blather and excuses and just give them the information they want. And also, they'll pay him handsomely!

I don't need your blood money! Judas says, then I don't want your blood money! Sometimes these lines are reversed, which sounds better - there's something more satisfying about the vowel in need than in want - but I think textually this original order is important. First he's sort of polite-ish-ly declining, saying no, he doesn't need any money, but then when they insist, he declines more firmly, that he doesn't want it either. (I love the way he shoves Annas's hand away.) It's so important to Judas's own principles that he came here because he thinks it's right, not because he wants payment; the idea of being paid makes it way worse.

...But then Caiaphas grabs the cigarette out of his mouth (leaving him a bit shaken with nothing to hold onto anymore) and goes well, you can give it to charity, or to the poor; they understand that's not why he's doing this, but they'd still like to pay him a fee. And that's the reason he ultimately does take the money: because just a few days earlier he was telling Jesus off for letting money be wasted when it could have gone to the poor. How could he do the same?

(Judas is not doing this for the money in this show. He is not being tempted by the money. He was not going to take the money until he was told he could give it to charity. One of the professional live productions I saw just did not understand this at all, and no. Judas is the protagonist! He is not here for the money! It's done right here, with the Pharisees just throwing the money at him after he names Gethsemane, and him not even reacting, just slowly picking it up afterwards. Tim Minchin gets Judas.)

I like to think the Well done, Judas / Good old Judas chorus is sort of the voice of the Divine Plan, such as it is, which he's now done his first part in.

"The Last Supper" has slowly become one of my favorite parts of the entire show, and I particularly enjoy it in this particular production.

Judas walks in and doesn't look at Jesus at all - can't quite bear to, at the moment. Jesus looks after him, knowing exactly what's going on... and that's when he starts in on The end is just a little harder when brought about by friends.

Jesus has a drink of the wine, which I like a lot. This definitely is a drinking sort of moment. I like the idea of him being a little inebriated in this scene.

For all you care, this wine could be my blood. For all you care, this bread could be my body. The end... This is my blood you drink, this is my body you eat. Judas reflexively rolls his eyes again - Jesus off on one of these weird sorts of rants yet again. (As with so much, I love that Jesus Christ Superstar takes this bit of the Bible and lets it just be a weird thing to say, recontextualizes it as an empty, halfhearted statement that he doesn't feel like his followers even care hours before his impending arrest, instead of treating it as something profound and meaningful. Again and again, Jesus is portrayed less as a noble profound religious figure and more as just a person haunted by mounting dread and anxiety, and I love it so much.)

Jesus sort of tries to make this into a nice, comforting thing, to ask them to remember him when they eat and drink - but it doesn't work. It's happening tonight, and here they all are, these people, his supposed followers, who don't understand a thing he's said, ever, and Jesus just breaks. I must be mad, thinking I'll be remembered! Yes, I must be out of my head! Look at your blank faces! My name will mean nothing ten minutes after I'm dead! (Judas looks up vaguely, kind of concerned - Jesus, this is further than he usually goes.) One of you denies me, one of you betrays me! And that's when Judas really looks up. Jesus knows.

There's a pause, a commotion, and Jesus is going to just retreat and leave it at that - but no, then he keeps going. He calls out Peter specifically for being about to deny him three times, shoving him, and then yells about how one of my twelve chosen will leave to betray me! At which Judas finally stands up. Cut out the dramatics! You know very well who! It's obvious that somehow Jesus found out. (Maybe Judas thinks the guitarist might have told on him.)

Judas's surprised You want me to do it? when Jesus tells him to go do it delights me. Judas, I thought you knew that Jesus totally wanted you to do this. It's almost like you didn't really know that at all and just convinced yourself of that to feel better about it. (Obviously, though, Jesus clearly doesn't actually want it so much, does he, the way he's shouting.)

Judas tries to explain himself but Jesus doesn't care - he doesn’t want to hear about why one of his most trusted friends wants to betray him to the authorities, not when this has to happen and he can’t prevent it. Judas is really nervous and defensive and hurt by his hostility, declares he hates Jesus now. (You liar, you Judas! Jesus says, which is kind of hilarious and also - yeah, he's a liar, he doesn't hate Jesus at all.) You wanted me to do it? What if I just stayed here and ruined your ambition? Christ, you deserve it! Judas still kind of wants to just stay and cancel the whole thing, even if it's simply justified as petulant spite. But Jesus tells him to just go already; he just wants to get this over with, as quickly as possible, because it hurts.

Judas is near tears as he turns away to get his things. The apostles have no idea what's going on, singing, some of them trying to see if Judas is okay, which suggests they have no idea what they were even talking about - whatever this 'betrayal' is supposed to be, it doesn’t cross their minds that Judas is about to get Jesus arrested.

Judas trudges up the steps, batting them away, still on the verge of tears - only then he stops, his face changing. And he throws down his backpack and turns for one final confrontation with Jesus. You sad, pathetic man! Look what you've brought us to! Our ideals die around us, and all because of you! This is still about their ideals for him, after all. And yet, saddest of all, someone had to turn Jesus in - like a common criminal, he first says, but then, like a wounded animal, someone helpless to help themselves, who needs to be pitied and put out of their misery. Jesus could have done something. Jesus could have put a stop to this. Why does he have to do it? (Why does he have to do it?)

Every time I look at you, I don't understand why you let the things you did get so out of hand. You'd have managed better if you'd had it planned. Why? Jesus does have a plan, of sorts, of course - it's just that this is all part of it. Judas doesn't believe Jesus is actually the Son of God, or that he could possibly have a "plan" that involves dying for some grand cosmic cause. As far as he can tell Jesus's actions are just bizarre and pathetic and self-defeating, and he's been saddled with the unfortunate, dirty job of saving Jesus from himself.

(Judas presumably still doesn't realize that the Pharisees plan to literally have him killed. I doubt he'd be doing this, or at least not in this way, if he knew.)

In the wake of this final confrontation, Mary hugs Peter, who Jesus just shoved and accused of denying him. She considers going to Jesus too, but Peter convinces her they'd probably best leave it alone. Peter himself seems to be considering going to Jesus, but then doesn't. Everyone dejectedly goes to sleep. Jesus is alone for tonight, his apostles alienated, his right-hand man gone as Jesus must wait for him to return with soldiers and set the dreaded end in motion. This must be the loneliest, most awful night of his life.

Jesus rubs his hand hard against a stair as the apostles are finishing their song - an agitated fidget that I am far more fond of than I should be. As he realizes they've all gone to sleep, he grips it instead, something to hold on to. Will no one stay awake with me? Peter, John, James? He just sounds broken and like he's about to cry. Which is good. He sings all of Gethsemane sounding like he's on the verge of tears and that's exactly how it should sound, do not at me.

(Please bear with me as I go on about this Gethsemane because it's my favorite one ever at this point, haters to the left)

See, when I first saw this production (I saw the official recording once before I realized it was still on and I could see it live), I didn't really like Ben Forster's Jesus for the first half! He seemed sort of over-the-top and I wasn't the biggest fan of his voice and all in all I was ehhh on him. But then he did "Gethsemane" and I just felt it to my core in a way I'd never felt it before, and it floored me. I've watched and listened to a lot of versions of this song. There are better singers who make it more pleasant to listen to - but they tend to be very dignified and Jesus-y about it, like this poised religious figure just having a brief moment of vulnerability and emotionality. Even the performances specifically praised for being emotional tend to be the ones that just make it really angry. And I've seen a lot of great ones of both varieties! But Ben Forster just makes it so raw and human. Like this terrified, exhausted, desperate human being who's spent the entire preceding hour of this play dreading this thing that's coming, his resolve finally faltering in this moment of agonizing solitude as his doubts and fears and frustrations finally come pouring out, how much he wants to call the whole thing off, begging to either not have to do this or at least be properly convinced why he should. It's what made me properly start to look at Jesus's character progression during this story in the first place and notice all the buildup about his fragile mental state that's always been there in the lyrics. This is the “Gethsemane” that made me really, truly care about Jesus.

he's rubbing the stair again at the beginning of the song, I'm sorry I love fidgets and nervous gestures you guys

I've never heard anyone emphasize three years the way Ben Forster does, and the desperation of it hits me in the heart. Weren't these three years enough?

Let's talk about You're far too keen on where and how, and not so hot on why, which is pretty key to this show’s interpretation of Jesus. He and the Almighty are definitively not the same entity here; Jesus knows or believes he knows a lot of things about how this is all going to play out, and even some of the future beyond that (in "Poor Jerusalem"), but he doesn't actually understand what his death is supposed to accomplish. He knows that he's going to be crucified and it's going to happen because Judas betrays him and so on and so on, and that this is all supposedly very important, and Jesus has been willing to accept that without question, but really he doesn't know the whys here and never has, and as much as he's just never questioned it anyway because of his absolute conviction that this is God’s plan, he can't not do so now, when he's going to have to suffer an agonizing death in the service of these inscrutable goals, not sometime in the vague far future but soon.

(Technically, for all we know, Jesus isn’t the Son of God. God doesn’t answer him; the song is a monologue. Jesus has suspiciously specific knowledge of the future but that’s about it as far as actual concrete evidence of his divinity goes in this show. But what matters is that he believes this is what God wills.)

His initial All right. I'll die. Just watch me die! is so spiteful, only for the following lines to just turn into this anguished scream, and it kills me

I love the way he collapses on the stairs, and just finally breaks down and starts crying, and there's that agitated rubbing of the stair again

The second three years is just exhausted and my heart still breaks for it. These have been a hard three years. Seems like ninety.

Why then am I scared to finish is probably my favorite line in this. He just sounds so broken and desperate and actually scared, and his body language is so tense and agitated and desperate; he's so angry at himself for being scared when this has been the plan all along and for some reason now he just can’t seem to go through with it.

And then he has that realization. What I started? ...What you started. I didn't start it! This isn't his plan. He's just a cog in God's machinery. It's a fixed, unavoidable fate, isn't it? And he finds a kind of desperate acceptance in just thinking of it that way - at least for a moment (before I change my mind!). But it's a spiteful acceptance. He's addressing God now. I will drink your cup of poison, nail me to your cross and break me, bleed me, beat me, kill me, take me now! Because it's you who are doing this. It's your cross, you who are killing me. Note the contrast to earlier: Let them hate me, hit me, hurt me, nail me to their tree. It's not actually the people who are responsible for any of this, even if they’ll technically be the ones to do the deed; it's God's plan, his cross, his crucifixion.

I love how he looks so tense standing there afterwards while the audience is applauding, because he's not actually waiting for applause, he's waiting for the soldiers to arrest him and set him on the path to his execution. Arms spread at first, in a come at me sort of way, but then he just clenches his fists at his sides, eyes closed, still waiting.

There he is. They're all asleep, the fools. Implying Judas wouldn't have just gone to sleep, if he'd been left there. AU where Jesus has literally anyone to comfort him, instead of standing there alone desperately pleading to God to not have him killed. Hnngh.

The kiss is just as it is in the Bible, of course. But there, it's presented as a sort of extra nasty element of this betrayal, that he'd be betrayed with a kiss. Here, it's more like Judas just wants to say goodbye, one last time, and does it in this kind of tender way.

And... Jesus breaks down crying, clings to him, pulls him into a hug. Because of course he does. The reminder that Judas still cares, memories of everything they've been through together, and the knowledge this is probably his last chance at some kind of comforting human contact? Of course he does. He just wants to not be alone, for a few seconds, before the end.

At first Judas just sort of lets him do it, but by the time the soldiers come along to separate them, Judas is clinging to Jesus, too. Ohh, my heart.

The apostles wake up at the commotion and are immediately on their feet to fight off the soldiers. There is not a man among you who knows or cares if I come or go, Jesus said, a few days ago; now here they are, worrying for him, wanting to save him. But he has to stop them. He mustn't be saved, and they'd only get themselves hurt. Put away your sword - don't you see that it's all over? It was nice but now it's gone. That exhausted resignation.

Why are you obsessed with fighting? Stick to fishing from now on. He doesn't sound angry here - it's just kind of a gentle rebuke. He's touched that they tried. I like that he plays it that way; it'd be legit to make it angry, but in the context of how Jesus has spent a lot of time feeling like they don't really care at all and in this moment it finally becomes clearer to him that they do - not to mention that this is basically his final goodbye to them - it makes sense to let it be kind of tender.

From this point on, Jesus has to just quietly accept his fate. He's very silent, barely says anything - because now things just have to play out how they play out, and nothing he says will change anything, nor should change anything.

The reporters asking questions here (to the melody of "The Temple") are one of the relatively few major anachronisms baked into the actual lyrics as opposed to any particular production. They're not really reporters; it's kind of a representation of some of his previous followers watching this as a kind of spectacle, expecting him to make a dramatic escape or fight back, excited by what's happening (you'll just DIE in the high priest's house!), rather than sympathizing or caring. These are the people who are going to ultimately turn against him as a mob and pressure Pilate into crucifying him.

Caiaphas asks if Jesus is the Son of God. Jesus says That's what you say, yet another line based directly on the Bible. Growing up I always just found that kind of a silly thing for him to say - why won't he just stick to his story instead of suddenly acting like he never said such a thing? But it makes real sense here. Again, Jesus is resigned to his fate, to passively letting this happen. He's not going to deny it or try to get out of it, because he can't and mustn't. But he has no desire to speak up about how the rocks and stones will sing for him right now, or actively provoke them and give them more reasons to persecute him. He's just going to stand here and let things happen until it's over.

(also, he probably doesn't really feel so much like the Son of God right now)

Judas, thank you for the victim! Stay a while and you'll see him bleed! In this production, Caiaphas and Annas both say the last sentence together, but originally it's just Annas, which has always led me to feel that where Caiaphas is pure cold pragmatism and just believes this is what needs to be done for the sake of the nation, Annas is bit of a twisted son of a bitch. He's obviously intentionally twisting the knife here, because he thinks Judas's conflictedness about the whole thing is a bit pathetic and hilarious and likes to see him squirm.

(let me complain again about the editor not letting us see Judas's reaction to this line)

Peter's reluctance to throw his phone on the fire is a mood

also him threatening the homeless people with a broken bottle when they keep pressing him on whether he was with Jesus, before Mary takes it off him, is something I enjoy

Pilate and Christ probably takes place at Pilate’s gym in this staging to show Pilate hasn’t even made time for Jesus in an official capacity - he’s just being unexpectedly brought before him in his off time, hence why he’s particularly dismissive here.

Jesus barely looks at Pilate. Another dispassionate That's what you say.

How can someone in your state be so cool about his fate? An amazing thing, this silent king. Of course, Pilate doesn't understand any more than anyone else that Jesus being crucified is the plan. Again, Jesus is just letting this play out.

He does look up when Pilate declares he should go to Herod instead, though. It must be torture for him having this drawn out further. Poor Jesus, having to suffer through a comic relief number when he just wants to get this over with.

Jesus does look at Herod as he's making all these offers of letting him free if he'll just perform a miracle. It's got to be a tempting thought despite everything. But no, he must still sit there and let it happen.

"These results are for entertainment purposes only and do not reflect any real votes. The outcome is predetermined by the character of King Herod who clearly is going to find Jesus guilty of being a fraud otherwise it would be a very short Act 2." Going all the way with that fourth-wall-breaking.

the bit where they put the hood over Jesus's head sure hits some specific button I didn't realize I had

Judas there with his head buried in his hands in the background towards the end of "Could We Start Again Please" ohhhh

I feel like the usual implication with the abrupt opening of "Judas's Death" is that Judas has just been seeing Jesus being beaten, whereas here he's explicitly sitting there with the apostles contemplating what he's done and just gets up and freaks out when Caiaphas and Annas happen to walk by. I like him punching Caiaphas, but the way he just goes from zero to sixty there does feel a little weird. I don't care, though, Judas in the background during "Could We Start Again Please" is worth it.

For all that Judas is mortified by the way Jesus is being made an example of, he can also see the way his name will forever be associated with treachery, and none of his good intentions meant anything at all in the end. He’s wracked with guilt at what he’s done, but additionally all he can see in the future is being vilified and reviled, blamed for Jesus’s murder.

Ugh Annas kicking Judas while he's down he's such a bastard

Tim Minchin goes so all out on making "Judas's Death" just ugly anguished screaming and crying and I am so here for it.

Judas has never believed in the divinity of Jesus, but Jesus has some strange, intense, frightening quality that both Judas and Mary can feel, and just before his final breakdown, although Judas is telling himself that He's a man - he's just a man!, he seems to be starting to feel that that's not quite true: he starts to wonder if Jesus will leave him be after his death, and then right after the "I Don't Know How to Love Him" reprise is where his mental state takes a turn as he realizes God is behind all this, that perhaps the whole thing was planned.

The projecting images of Jesus' torment up onto the background screen as Judas is despairing is also very good - Jesus hasn't even been sentenced yet but he knows where this is headed and he sure is imagining it and feeling responsible for it.

Judas, like Jesus, concludes here that it's God who orchestrated all this and he never got a choice. In his case, though, it's serving as a way of running from his guilt. We got to hear all about his reasons for thinking this was the right thing to do, after all - it's not as if he was literally controlled into anything. He didn't realize he was dooming Jesus to a horrible death at the time, but he still did it of his own free will. And it isn't a real comfort - all it means is that in his final anguished moments he has someone to scream his despair at. You have murdered me!

(hang me from your tree)

the particular scream and sob that he does as he kicks the box out from under him hits my buttons very hard hhhh

Poor old Judas, so long, Judas, goes the Plan chorus. There's a pretty callous quality to that, appropriately enough for a very callous Plan involving a lot of suffering.

Please give my compliments to the sound designer who makes a point of turning on Jesus' microphone so we can hear his strained breathing before "Trial Before Pilate" begins

Jesus's resolve to say nothing of substance is breaking by this point, and he actually answers Pilate's "Where is your kingdom?" I have got no kingdom in this world, I'm through, through, through - there may be a kingdom for me somewhere, if I only knew. It's probably pretty hard to feel like he's headed for a triumphant resurrection right now, and the fact he's spilling those doubts to Pilate in a moment of frustrated honesty is pretty tragic.

(Some versions, including the 1973 movie, change this lyric to if you only knew. No! Bad! The whole point here is Jesus doubting it! If you want to change it you should not be putting on this show!)

Then he's a king? It’s what you say I am! I look for truth and find that I get damned! This frustration coming out here is so good.

Pilate's frustration is very good too - just dripping off every line. This mob of people insisting he sentence this harmless fool to death (one who reminds him uncomfortably of this dream that he had the other day), crowing about Caesar all of a sudden like they're oh so very concerned with protecting Caesar's authority.

As Jesus once again refuses to talk, there’s a brief mournful instrumental interlude before Look at your Jesus Christ - this is a slowed-down version of a bit of “Prescience”, the motif from “Pilate’s Dream”. He remembers that unsettling dream, consciously or unconsciously, and feels sympathy and pity for this strange man before him. After that is when he begins to argue that Jesus hasn’t committed any crime and there’s no reason to kill him.

can we appreciate that Webber and Rice went and made a song called "The 39 Lashes" that's literally just Pilate counting excruciatingly to 39 while Jesus screams in pain

can we also appreciate Jesus writhing on the floor after rolling down the stairs, Ben Forster really goes for it in acting out all this pain and torture and I love him for it

Why do you not speak when I have your life in my hands? asks Pilate, and Jesus just about musters the energy to say, You have nothing in your hands. Any power you have comes to you from far beyond - everything is fixed and you can't change it! He's kind of desperate to make Pilate understand this. Pilate keeps on trying to get Jesus to say something that'll let him release him, but that can't happen, because this must be so. Pilate needs to just play his part and get it over with, please get it over with.

And so, Pilate has to appease the mob and let him die, even though he doesn't want to at all, and tries to wash his hands of it. Much like in his dream, though, he'll in fact be remembered as the guy who sentenced Jesus to death. Clearly didn't wash your hands well enough, Pilate

It's such a delightfully bold creative decision to place an upbeat number like "Superstar" right here as Jesus is about to be crucified.

It's fascinating to see the differences in how this song in particular is staged; it's so abstract and disconnected that different directors really go nuts with it. Some productions, including the 2000 movie, imply Judas has come out of Hell to taunt him; the movie in particular makes a point of having Judas lazily, cruelly stand on the cross while Jesus is trying to carry it, grinning at his agony, surrounded by scantily clad demon women, though he has a moment of doubt and guilt as Jesus stares at him. (That movie generally posits Judas as not in control of his actions at all - so God is apparently basically just making him do this as part of his torture in Hell, which is delightfully twisted.) Others (including this one and the 1973 movie) have him among angels, as if he's descended from Heaven. In the 1973 movie Carl Anderson seems largely to just be singing it to himself - it cuts to Jesus carrying the cross a few times, but Judas isn't there.

Here, "Superstar" feels a bit like a delirious hallucination Jesus is experiencing. Judas descends on the stage lights that are about to form the cross (what an entrance) and performs the song surrounded by angels while Jesus is being affixed to the cross; they look at each other, but Judas doesn't really interact with him. There's definitely no taunting; Tim Minchin plays it in a very good-natured way, not even the kind of angry questioning of Carl Anderson in the 1973 movie. Effectively, despite the hallucinatory vibes, the way it comes across to me is Judas really is actually there in spirit, from a timeless afterlife, having had an eternity to think and come to terms with and understand what Jesus was doing - and finally just asking him some questions, without judgement. Is he what they say he is? What does he think about Buddha and Mohammed? Why didn't he choose a different time period where it would've been easier to spread his message? Did he know his death would inspire millions? It's all a sort of musing, fourth-wall-leaning modern perspective, not hostile, just curious.

Also this version just makes me happy because Judas seems happy and mentally at peace in the afterlife and who doesn't want that

Anyway, from that to Jesus crying on the cross. And I mean crying. Once again Ben Forster delivers the human suffering element of this story. "The Crucifixion" is a weird, weird song, chaotic and noisy and kind of offputting and tends to feel sort of inappropriate for the mood; in this production you don't even notice because the staging is so brutal. There's no cool symbolic dignity to this; Jesus is just crying and screaming and sobbing the whole time, yelling the disconnected final-words lines in an agonized, delirious haze. You actually believe you're watching a man dying in agony, God damn. It hurts and I love it.

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? is the most gutwrenching line, of course. (And straight out of the Bible, lest we forget - I think it’s fascinating that in the likely oldest gospel of Mark as well as Matthew, this horrible, heartwrenching, human cry is all he says on the cross, while the gospels of John and Luke instead each feature their own disjoint sets of more profound-sounding sayings. It’s hard not to wonder if the other lines might be inventions by those gospels’ human authors or their sources, people who perhaps just didn’t want Jesus’s final words to be something so achingly desperate and vulnerable.) He's done all this to carry out God's great plan, and yet in this moment, in the middle of this nightmare of slow, unending agony, he feels certain that God has abandoned him and he's just dying, alone, pointlessly, for nothing. Ow, my empathetic heart.

You can hear him feeling death approaching at last and the relief he feels at that realization just before It is finished and Father, into your hands I commend my spirit

(it's easier to believe again when his suffering is finally, mercifully about to end)

Ben Forster also does a very good job not visibly breathing when he's playing a corpse. On this blog we appreciate the little things.

I've always found it pretty neat and interesting that Jesus Christ Superstar does not include the resurrection or any allusion to it at all; he just dies on the cross, they mourn and carry him away, and the show ends. Again, the only thing in this show that’s at all supernatural is that Jesus seems to know the future, and even that is fairly ambiguous. It's a story about human suffering, and it's a hugely compelling story without him rising from the dead at the end, which'd just kind of cheapen it. You can imagine that he did, but this ending invites you to contemplate that this story is just as meaningful if he did not.

In conclusion, Jesus Christ Superstar is one of my absolute favorite things and the 2012 arena tour is my baby

Thank you for coming to my TED talk

#jesus christ superstar #ramble #review #character analysis #my buttons #holy jesus this is long #8500 words of JCS rambling #which is almost as much as I wrote about episode four of Breaking Bad

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soobrat · 4 years ago

Text

*･༓☾ bloodshot // johnny ☽༓･*

chapter ii // masterlist

*pairing*

you x johnny + some jungwoo (and I guess Taeyong?)

*chapter rating* mature

*warnings* explicit sexual content, mentions of slurs and sexism (it’s another jungwoo smut chapter)

*word count* 3.03k

*disclaimer(s)* Once again I don't think nayeon, johnny, or lucas actually act this way, and this goes for everyone in the future

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

"Again?" Your eyes lit up. Jungwoo has never had so much drive before.

"I wanna give you all my love and attention until neither of us can take it anymore." He caresses your cheek and you melt into him. Your bed fitted with brown silk sheets and a tan comforter became a sort of sacred fortress in the past two months. Jungwoo has been an angel through the come down of the incident.

"Jisoo told me you haven't been giving her as much attention, though." You lace your fingers with his, noting every mole and mark down his arm. Jungwoo sighs.

"I know... I just hate seeing you like this. If only she was able come and cuddle with us."

It's been a month since you and Jungwoo made it official. It didn't feel like anything changed, you wonder if open relationships always felt this way.

"You just want to watch Jisoo and I kiss." You roll your eyes. Jungwoo shoots up from the bed.

"You guys kiss?!" You snort at his baffled expression.

"No, and I prefer it that way. I'm pretty sure Jisoo prefers our relationships separate as well." You glance at him, knowing he knows you're right. He huffs in defeat before falling back onto the bed.

"Imagine how great the three of us could be, though." Jungwoo pouts, seemingly forgetting about round 4.

No matter how much he pouted, you and Jisoo were 100% platonic. You liked you guys' dynamic and neither of you wanted to change it.

Those two together almost made you forget about all the online ridicule you received. Almost.

You couldn't leave Taeyong. The others, no sweat off your back. Taeyong, however, was your first love. And although you had no more romantic feelings for him, you still loved him. Even if he was dating a girl who made your life a living hell. You could cut off Johnny and Lucas, but not Nayeon. If you had to do anymore streams with that devil you'd scream.

You groan as you die again. Good thing you were near spawn anyway. You hurry and gather your items before the ridicule commences.

"____ you're really fucking everything up. This must be why women are inferior." She purposefully puts a shit-ton of nasality in her voice when she talks to you. It makes you want to rip your ears off your head. Taeyong's laugh reads of disbelief.

"Nayeon why would you say that?!"

You just laughed awkwardly. How do their viewers not die of boredom? It's the same god-forsaken cycle. Nayeon makes a self-loathing sexist joke, Taeyong pretends to be shocked, the chat erupts in response. You wonder if men get off on women constantly stating that they're inferior.

"Ugh just fucking come with me." Nayeon's character sprints off before you could think.

"Wait a minute!" You jump and run at her. You switch to your iron sword, pretending to strike her from behind. Your mind wanders as you pretend to hit her. What has your life become? You almost jump at the sound of Nayeon receiving damage. She gasped like someone killed her dog, not someone accidentally hitting her on Minecraft.

"What the f-" You chut as Nayeon starts swinging her diamond sword at you.

"When did you get diamonds?" You try and jump and avoid her but she still hits you twice. You laugh uncontrollably as you try to get away. Taeyong reacts in disbelief, as usual.

"Girls! Stick to the plan!"

"I only have one heart!" You hurry and equip your shield to defend yourself.

"You hit me!" Nayeon exclaims. You notice the nasality is gone, and that you're having fun. Your smile nearly splits your face in half. You block her attacks and deal a good amount of damage until she dies. You laugh, tears in your eyes. You could get used to this, possibly finally have a female streamer friend?

You stop laughing when you notice how quiet it was. Then you hear sniffling.

"____ why can't you take a fucking joke? You're always so violent over fucking jokes!"

Then issnayeon went offline. She left the discord call. You and Taeyong were silent. Then Taeyong left as well. You were afraid to look at your chat. You clear your throat, suddenly very aware of the webcam pointed at your face.

"That was really odd, I guess I misunderstood the situation." You were beginning to get defensive, but you knew that wouldn't end well. Your eyes flicker over at your second monitor against your own wishes.

Flashes of 'cunt', 'snowflake', and most importantly, 'apologize' were visible from the chat. So you did apologize.

"I'm sorry to Nayeon and her viewers for being childish. I clearly misunderstood the situation," You paused, trying to gather your thoughts and blink away the tears stinging your eyes. You were such a baby.

"I'm also sorry for... uh... forcing my personal feelings and beliefs into a video game and onto Nayeon. I hope you guys understand where I'm coming from and accept my apology. Anyways, I think that'll be it for the stream tonight guys. I'll see you Wednesday."

You knew you weren't supposed to abruptly close the stream, especially without a closing screen. You just wanted to escape quickly. The stinging got worse until warm tears rolled down your cheeks. Everything that just happened was suddenly clicking. You were in for a shitstorm. More tears stream down your cheeks as you feel your phone buzz. You pick it up, blinking tears away.

"Jisoo..." Your voice quivered. Why were you so sensitive?

"Just breathe, okay?" Jisoo spoke calmly and with warmth but all you could think about was the aftermath of all this. Jisoo watched every stream she could, so maybe she saw.

"Could you see me tear up on camera? Was it obvious?" The panic in your voice was very evident?

"What? Who cares about that, ____ Nayeon's a bitch-"

"I do! Now I look like even more of a pussy, and everyone's gonna know that I'm sensitive-" You hiccup, trying not to sob.

"You're not a pussy. If anyone's a pussy here, it's Nayeon. You have to endure mockery from other streamers or your own chat every time you stream, and you keep persevering. Most of those people calling you a snowflake couldn't do the same." The passion in Jisoo's voice made you realize why you loved her. Why you were so glad you met her through Jungwoo.

"I don't want you to ever lose your fire for combatting sexism. Don't let these online idiots distract from the fact that sexism is our reality. You're not a pussy for not tolerating jokes about shit you deal with on a daily basis from people who would never understand."

Your sobs echoed throughout your room. You weren't crying because of the chat or Nayeon anymore, though. It was because of how thankful you were for Jisoo. Deep down, you didn't even believe the things you preached yourself. A small part of you envied Nayeon. The fact that she could laugh at those jokes and even say them herself.

You wondered how much easier it would be if you just... gave in.

You had just come back to streaming two months after the first incident, and now you had to take another break. At least until the internet cooled down. This all spurred from something so stupid, but it just enough for people to further their sexist narrative. Johnny was quiet about the incident, but Lucas was as loud as ever.

"Imagine being so butthurt about a joke." He tweeted. Your thumb hovered over the tweet. You shouldn't. You shouldn't read the replies. You really shouldn't read the replies.

You click the tweet and scroll to the replies, heart pumping.

"People have gotten so much more sensitive, can't say shit these days."

"She was about to cry... over a joke."

Hand trembling, you went to read more for some stupid reason. You were getting so worked up, why were you doing this to yourself?

"You guys scream "it's just a joke" but then cry yourself to sleep when a girl says KAM."

You perk up. People are defending you? That tweet was so close to passing the others in likes as well. You swiped more.

"I'm glad she speaks up against those unfunny assholes. I'm actually pissed she apologized."

"Nayeon is the butthurt one here. Boohoo someone hit you in a game."

"Your jokes aren't funny."

There were still tweets bashing you, but there was significant pushback. You smile. You like all the tweets defending you. This would probably bite you in the ass later, but you didn't care. You even retweeted one.

"I don't even like _____ but this 'controversy' is the dumbest thing to get headlines I've ever seen. You people need a hobby."

You had yet to see the headlines, but Lucas' tweets about the subject were probably the reason it was blowing up. Filled with a shot of confidence, you wanted to see who's name was trending.

At number two is issnayeon. Of course, Nayeon is a lot more popular so her name would be mentioned a lot more. Something else catches your eye near the bottom of the screen, however.

jonssuh.

Curious, you click the topic.

"Since we're talking about ____, can we talk about how you guys called her crazy and never questioned jonssuh?"

The tweet seemed to spark conversation, racking in a serious amount of engagement.

"jonssuh is lowkey the one who initiates all the sexist shit"

"____ is a psycho snowflake, that's why no one questioned jonssuh"

It was interesting to see how split the replies were. Within days there was a rift in the streaming community. You were either Team ____ or Team Johnny. You weren't sure how Johnny got dragged into this when it was about you and Nayeon, but it was truly fascinating.

Speaking of Nayeon.

"Out of everyone involved, she's receiving the most flack." You scan the board, wracking your brain for your next move. All you could focus on was the hum of Jisoo's air conditioner and dogs barking down the hall from her apartment.

"Good. I'm sorry but she started this shit. I don't hate the girl but man she has some issues she needs to work out. Hurry and move by the way! This is why we need a timer."

Every move seemed flawed by this point. You were too hasty in the beginning. You sigh before moving your Queen.

"Well I hate her." You settle back into your chair, folding your arms.

"Yeah. I know." Jisoo swiftly scoops up your queen. You groan, tossing your head back.

"I thought I really planned that out nicely." You cross your arms tighter as your expression soured.

"Sorry babes. Also, about Nayeon. She's a woman, too."

You look up at Jisoo, who's still looking intently at the board.

"Huh?"

"I'm just saying. She's struggling just as much. Hurry and go!"

You roll your eyes, refusing to process her hubbub. You had to focus on how to plan your game better.

For the most part, you ignored the online battle, especially Lucas' endless subtweets. You unfollowed both Lucas and Johnny after this whole debacle, which according to Jisoo only escalated things. It was all out war.

You unfortunately couldn't escape the headlines. Your name was synonymous with oversensitivity now, while Johnny's was synonymous with sexism. You eventually caved in and spectated the battle. There was a lot of support for both sides, but the criticism was loud. Especially well worded criticism from respectable sources.

Instead of calling you a snowflake, popular youtubers argued that your actions directly hindered people's right to freedom of speech.

As for Johnny, people were maturely stating how his actions, while funny to him, were extremely harmful and almost oppressive towards women.

Both sides argued that both your behavior had damaging effects on the streaming community. This was bad. You just wanted respect, goddammit.

The comments were filled with both of your supporters questioning their support of either of you. You sat in your gaming chair for what felt like hours, spinning in circles. What in the world could you do? Your phone began to buzz in your lap.

"Taeyong?" You pick up quickly after seeing the name. Taeyong hadn't talked to you since that day.

"No. Johnny."

Your shoulders drop.

"Why?"

"I don't know if you noticed recently but we're kinda fucked. And if you're referring to me calling on Tae's phone, you blocked my number so," Johnny sounded defeated. You couldn't even find joy in it, it was so pitiful.

"So you're calling me for..."

"We clearly both have some common ground to discover."

"I kinda disagree buddy." You chuckle.

"So what, you want to have a conversation over the phone?" You scratch at your head. What is going through this man's brain?

"No. I want to start collabing with you again. Just me and you."

You freeze.

"How that fuck would that fix anything? You think spending more time together will magically make us get along? You do understand why I don't like you, right?"

"Whatever- look we don't have to actually find common ground. We could fake it so we can stop getting fucked up the ass by youtube essays." Johnny was starting to get his usual pissed off tone.

"Okay, yeah." You shrug as if he can see you. You can hear him shuffling eagerly.

"Really?"

"Fuck no." You hang your phone up before tossing it on your bed. You could handle this on your own. You had a genuine purpose for your actions. Johnny was literally just selfish and using low hanging (offensive) fruit to get more subs. People would understand you.

You adjust your tripod, making sure it was angled perfectly. It was simple, you'd just sit down and be straightforward with your side of the story.

"Hey guys. I know there has been a lot of craziness going on, and I just wanted to explain myself."

You explained how the streaming community made you feel as a woman. How you didn't regret not giving in to the sexism. You felt confident that at least your supporters would come back around.

"You've refreshed YouTube at least 80 times already. I came over here to take your mind off of things." Jungwoo wrapped his arms tighter around your waist. The light from your phone reflected against your glasses. The video got one dislike immediately when you posted it, followed by three more seconds later. By now, there were hundreds of likes and a dozen dislikes. Your lip started to sting as you peeled the skin from it with your teeth. Your eyebrows were knitted tightly together as you skimmed the comments.

R slurs and snowflake's were a given, but most of them sympathized with you. You refreshed, scrolled, hearted, and repeat. As you scrolled more, the criticism came pouring in. You kept scrolling until you found what you were subconsciously looking for. Well worded, damning criticism.

"I love your content and have been watching you for a while, but if these people bother you so much, why do you still interact with them? I remember you saying a long time ago that you and Nayeon didn't get along very well... so why? I was waiting for you to cut all of them off but you never did. I'm glad the guys are gone but why is Nayeon still frequently streaming with you?"

Your initial response would be because of Taeyong, but you knew it was a horrible excuse. It just clicked that you were putting yourself through torture for a taken man who never even showed interest in you once. Did Taeyong really even care about you?

You physically shake the thoughts away before locking your phone.

"Finally." Jungwoo swipes the phone from your hand and tosses it away. Before you could protest, he tenderly kisses your lips. His lips were so soft. With tentative touches, he turned you to fully face him. He threads his fingers through the nape of your hair, deepening the kiss.

"Focus on me, okay?"

He moves one of his hands down your body. He slides his hand under your shirt, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You gasp and flinch at how cold they are. He smirks against your lips, hand squeezing your clothed breast. You sigh against his mouth before nipping at his bottom lip. He slips his hand under your bra. He pinches your erect nipples and you hiss.

With his other hand he cups your panty clad core. You grind into him, encouraging him to go further. He complies silently, sliding his hand into your panties. He sighs blissfully at how wet you are. He curls two fingers into your slick hole. They slip right in, the tips of his fingers brushing deliciously against your walls. Goosebumps crawl up your arms as you clench Jungwoo's arm.

Your senses are clouded as you focus on his touch. He felt so good. You bite your lip as you squeeze his arm harder. No man has ever made you feel this way. You revel in the way his fingers brush perfectly against your g-spot. Why were you worried about Taeyong anyway?

Taeyong. You furrowed your brows, trying to rid thoughts of him. The way tears filled his eyes when he laughed too hard. His intoxicating smell. His soft skin and hair. His kind eyes. His comforting touches.

"____?"

"Why does she still hang out with Taeyong and Nayeon?"

He hasn't been answering your calls or texts...

"Taeyong is like poison to her, she should cut him off."

He never defended you...

"Taeyong is ruining ____."

Did Taeyong ever really care about you?

"____! Are you okay?"

You feel numb as Jungwoo grips your shoulders. He tries to look into your eyes but you keep avoiding him.

"Let's go get cleaned up okay?"

"I think I'm still in love with Taeyong." Tears spill down your cheeks. You've cried more in the last few months than you have in at least a decade. It seems to all tie back to Taeyong somehow. Jungwoo was still for a second.

"Come on. Let's go clean up."

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　끝　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

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thehibernatedmind · 4 years ago

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a half-pint teacher

I never wanted to be a teacher. I wanted to be so many things before I decided to accept a teaching job. I liked reading, so I thought about becoming a librarian, a writer, a bookstore owner. And when I had zero idea on how to become any of those things, I thought of becoming a literature professor, because then I get to read and write for a living (oh, to be innocent and naive).

Nevertheless, in all those imagined scenarios, I had this urge to connect others. I thought of conversing with people about books and life if I’m a bookstore owner. I thought of writing exciting narratives with encouraging messages for the uninspired masses. I thought of interacting with college students when I become a university lecturer and discussing nothing but literature.

I wanted to connect, but it’s always my second priority, because I am also afraid of connecting.

If only I can reach other people indirectly, whether it is through literature or through writing, that would be great.

I just never thought “teaching” would be that indirect means.

I landed with a teaching job in a secondary school out of grace and luck. Like I said, I never wanted to be a teacher, but my teacher from my alma mater contacted me when I was unsure what path to take.

It was like standing at a crossroad, and then a sign suddenly came up, indicating the path I should head towards.

I took it. And so began my two, three years of soul-searching.

The first year was a nightmare. Then I started to find my place in my second year. And then came this year, which I became confused, because I was hit with an unbelievable realization: I don’t hate my job.

My colleague (and ex-teacher) invited me to help out with a social service to teach Cantonese to a small group of Japanese mothers living in Hong Kong. Because we are not fluent in Japanese, we asked my student of Japanese background to join in the service. The Cantonese lesson was conducted during a long school holiday, so in a sense, it was additional work during a break. To be honest, I thought of it as a task to be completed.

My colleague was busy, so the PowerPoint was completed only the day before the lesson. He asked me to take a look at it. I started seeing some mistakes in the Japanese my colleague had typed in the PowerPoint (because I am learning the language through self-study), and was uncertain whether some parts of the PowerPoint was clear enough. I was so invested in it that I called him and started discussing how to improve the teaching material.

It was actually fun. I found myself looking forward to the lesson.

The next day, we met the Japanese mothers via zoom. There were some hiccups at first, because we were trying to find a way to communicate. My colleague and I were only fluent in Cantonese and English, and the Japanese mothers were not. I wasn’t sure whether my student was confident enough to do all the real-time translations. But my worry over my student was over once she started speaking. Her Japanese was fluent with very little hesitations. Most importantly, the Japanese mothers were really taking notes, following us along, and asking questions.

At the end of the lesson, when we gave our final remarks and thanks, I told the Japanese mothers I really appreciated the effort they put in the lesson. My colleague then added, “Believe her when she says this, because she really is a teacher.”

Yes, I am. I found my heart whispering back. I am not sure if I am one, but somehow, I am.

Recently, I just started watching / reading “Assassination Classroom” (because so many of my students loved it, and everyone says it is an anime / manga for teachers). It is not by any means a perfect story, but I really appreciate its central message, for it is as many have said, a story about education. As a teacher, it is not difficult to find resonance in the plot and the characters.

One of my favourite part of the story so far is when Nagisa first battle with the “substitute teacher” Takaoka. The reason I like this arc is not because of how Nagisa beat a tyrannical authoritative figure (which, I admit, was pretty cool), but because of the lesson that Karasuma-sensei, a trained assassin who suddenly became this group of students’ teacher, learned from this incident.

Karasuma believed Nagisa had what it takes to win against the brute force of Takaoka, but at the same time, he wasn’t sure if his choice was right. When it turns out his perception was correct and Nagisa even out-performed his expectations, Korosensei says this to Karasuma:

What I value in these panels is its candid reflection of what it means to be an educator. I have two and a half years of teaching experience, but I never once felt that I am a successful teacher. Every lesson, to me, is a gamble. I have prepared what I have, but I have no idea whether it will work on the class I am about to teach. Being a teacher often means preparing for failure and struggling with doubt. What Korosensei says is true: When you are in a classroom, you actually don’t know what you are doing most of the time, but you need to act as if you do, because you are supposed to be "the teacher".

I do not like feeling uncertain, and I want to escape from the possibility of failure. But it is through confronting this on a daily basis that I discover the value in these uncertainties.

Because Korosensei has a point.

When you are able to meet students who work hard, who perform out of your expectations, who are willing to listen to your lesson and look up to you, despite how uncertain and unprepared you are, that feeling outweighs any form of joy and happiness.

That is the weird, vulnerable, and incredibly wonderful bond between a mentor and his or her student.

Panels taken from Ch.42 of "Assassination Classroom" by Matsui Yuusei-sensei.

#teacher #teacher's life #personal thoughts #assassination classroom #wandertales #cultural logbook

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dakotacrisis · 5 years ago

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Transferred (12)

FRESH BAKED JUSTICE!

---

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, the leaves in the trees were changing color, Marinette had all her assignments done, Kagami’s dress was coming along beautifully, Alya and her were talking again, and Quinn had finally purchased a real planner.

Marinette now sat in a window seat of Nanette’s moms’ cafe sipping a mug of warm tea and listening to the excited and funny ramblings of her friends.

“You’ve been awfully quiet today.” Nanette noted. “Everything okay?”

“Everything is pretty much perfect.” Marinette sighed, “I’m enjoying the moment while it lasts.”

“Here, here,” Nanette clinked her mug of cocoa against Marinette’s. “Heard anything from Adrien?”

“Nope. I don’t know what is going on anymore with him.” After Marinette’s confrontation with Lila at the fabric store she called Adrien to vent. He couldn’t talk long as he was on his way home and had something important to discuss with his dad when he got there. She kept her complaining short and tried calling Alya instead but was met with an even more abrupt end to the conversation as someone in the background made a bunch of noisy complaints about deadlines and narrative flow.

She tried talking to both of them the next day and again was met with quick dismissals and apologies. Something was going on but Marinette for the life of her couldn’t tell what it was. Were those two in cahoots for something? If they were, why couldn’t they tell Marinette?

Marinette’s phone beeped. “This may be him.”

“And I am telling you, Tsurugi!” Quinn was nose to nose with Kagami, “I don’t care how powerful a ninja Pucca is, she could not defeat the kraken!”

“It is essentially a giant octopus. She could totally take it!” Kagami argued.

“I will physically fight you on this!”

“Children,” Nanette’s mom approached the table and swatted Quinn on the top of their head with a menu, “No shouting in the cafe. You’re disturbing the other customers.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Labelle,” Quinn and Kagami muttered. “Hey, Marinette, can you settle this for us?”

“In a minute, I got a message from Chloe.” Marinette opened her messages.

“What is it?” Kagami leaned over her shoulder.

“She sent me a video. Geez, twenty minutes? What is this?” Marinette recognized the thumbnail as her old classroom.

“Fresh Baked Justice.” Kagami read out the title, “Was the caps lock necessary?”

“Let’s see what’s happening.” Marinette propped up her phone and pressed play.

---

“Why am I the one recording?” Marinette recognized Alya’s voice behind the camera.

“Because I, unlike you, never doubted her. So I get to present the information.” Chloe was standing at the front of the classroom as the other students entered. “Now wait for my cue to start recording.”

“I’m already recording.”

“You incompetent--”

“Watch it, Chloe.” Alya warned.

“Fine, whatever,” Chloe huffed as she waited for everyone to get seated.

Ms. Bustier entered the room and gave Chloe and Alya a confused look. “Girls, what are you doing?”

“I knew we were presenting our projects today and I wanted to be the first.” Chloe said.

“And Alya is recording because?”

“Because I want to relive everyone’s jaw dropping reactions to my perfect project.” Chloe boasted but there was something slippery about the way she said it. Something she wasn’t letting on about.

“Alright then,” Ms. Bustier smiled, “Since you are so eager you can go first.”

“Perfect,” Chloe cleared her throat, “My dear plebeian peers, may I present my wonderful project of a modern retelling of an ancient story. The story of Dolos and Aletheia.”

Chloe hit a button on the remote she was holding and the slide on the screen changed to a picture of Lila with little devil horns photoshopped on her forehead.

“Now, in ancient myth Dolos was a either a lesser god or simply a personified spirit of trickery and guile depending on your interpretation. A master of cunning deception, craftiness and treachery.” Chloe continued on unbothered by the mean looks she was getting from her classmates, “The most well known story concerning Dolos is while under the apprenticeship of the Titan Prometheus he forged a copy of a statue Prometheus was sculpting.”

The powerpoint changed slides again. This time a picture of a statue of a woman with sad eyes and holding a tablet of some sort filled the screen.

“The statue Prometheus was sculpting was of Aletheia, or her Roman name, Veritas. Aletheia is the goddess of truth in ancient myth. Prometheus decided to create a statue of her so to help regulate the behaviour of people.”

Again the slides changed this time to a picture of an incomplete statue of a woman that had Marinette’s head photoshopped on it.

“Now in the myth, Prometheus was called away from his shop leaving Dolos alone. In his ambition the trickster decided to use his free time to fashion a forgery of the statue Prometheus was making. So good were his skills and in the details of the forgery that when Prometheus returned to the shop and saw the copy he decided it was impeccable and put both statues in the kiln.”

Slides changed and now stood a regular picture of Marinette with a little halo around her head and next to it was a shopped photo of Marinette twisted to give her an evil smile and a burglar mask. The devil horned Lila picture stood between them looking awfully smug.

“The only problem was that before Dolos could finish the Aletheia statue he ran out of clay and could not add any feet. Thus when the statues were done the true version of Aletheia awakened and walked with measured steps but her incomplete twin was stuck in place unable to move forward. This product of subterfuge thus came to be known as Mendacium, or Falsehood. Standing in place as a reminder that while something false can start off successfully, inevitably, Aletheia, or Truth, will prevail.”

“Well, Chloe,” Ms. Bustier looked put out, “This is well researched but how is this a modern retelling? You’ve only repeated the original myth and put your classmates faces over the pictures.”

“I am aware, Ms. Bustier.” Chloe nodded, “I was merely informing everyone of the original story. Now we will be moving onto the modern retelling. In this version the personifications of Dolos and Aletheia have been changed to Lila and Marinette respectively.”

At this the students in their seats started to squirm and exchange bewildered looks.

“Ahem,” Chloe cleared her throat and hit the button to change slides once more. This time instead of a shopped photo it was the class picture. “Once upon a time there was a normal high school class. In this class there was a pillar of truth and justice, almost to annoying degree, known as Marinette Dupain-Cheng. All was well in the class and many people liked her. Until one fateful day when a dark power of lies and deception crept into the school. A miss Lila Rossi.”

The screen now showed a still from Alya’s interview with Lila the first day she came to school.

“Lila charmed the people around her with tall tales of interest and famous connection in order to impress the students. While this irked Marinette she could not prove her lies were in fact such and so suffered in silence. Any time she tried to call out the falsehoods being fed to her peers she was met with resistance and, in extreme cases, hostility.

“What Marinette did not realize at the time was just how much her attempts at uncovering the truth angered Lila. How if Marinette could provide concrete proof to her claims then Lila would be powerless to stop it. Unfortunately for dear Marinette, she was stunted in her mission of justice by Lila with sabotage and manipulation of her classmates.”

A video appeared on the screen of what was clearly Lila sneaking into the janitor’s closet early in the morning and leaving with a large white jug of chemicals before ascending the steps into Ms. Bustier’s classroom. The time stamp on the video read about a month ago. The day Marinette sat in bleach.

A minute later the door to the classroom opened again and Lila stashed the bleach back in the closet before integrating herself with the arriving students.

“Thankfully for Dupain-Cheng, another hero rose to the challenge. One detective Chloe Bourgeois.” Chloe smirked. The camera panned to Lila. She looked more composed than she should have considering Chloe was going to expose her for the lying worm she is. Adrien, who was forced next to Lila, looked absolutely delighted by Chloe’s project.

“This day would mark the first in a long line of pranks and lies that Lila would use to break down Marinette and drive her away from her friends and the school.”

The next video took place in the library. The time stamp read about a week after the bleach incident video. Marinette was sat at one of the computers furiously typing away on a document. A couple feet away at the printer Lila stood taking the paper out of the printer and shoving it back in all bent and crushed. She walked away and a minute later Marinette stood up from her desk and crossed to the printer to collect her paper. Only the printer was now jammed due to Lila’s sabotage. Unaware of any foul play Marinette went about unjamming the printer while Lila now snuck to the computer Marinette had inhabited and started clicking at things on the screen. She ran back into hiding as Marinette got the printer fixed and returned to send her report to the printer again. Only this time Marinette started to freak out and frantically click everywhere on the screen trying to find a now permanently deleted document.

Chloe described what was in fact happening in the video to the class so they had the proper context before reminding them of Marinette’s ‘excuse’ for not having her report done. Her ‘excuse’ that someone had deleted the document and all her notes.

A few students started to look at Lila with suspicion.

A newspaper clipping now occupied the screen. It was the article about the art students and the picture of Lila wearing Marinette’s ballgown. In the article the false name Lila gave the reporter for Marinette was highlighted.

“Now thanks to the incredible work of Detective Chloe, I was able to find the reporter of this article and ask them about the misinformed name.” The screen changed to a video of a journalist sitting in their office. The name on their desk matching the name on the article.

“Now,” the video version of Chloe said, “What can you tell me about the person who gave you the name Margaret Dubois-Peng for this article.”

“It was this girl pictured in the center of the photo I took,” the journalist held up the picture, clearly pointing at Lila, “And I did not mishear her. She told me that the name of the girl that couldn’t make the picture was named Margaret. I remember because I thought the dress was beautiful and wanted to get the name perfect since the talented designer was absent from the photo.”

“I am sorry to inform you but there is no Margaret Dubois-Peng that attends Francoise Dupont. The actual designer of that dress was a girl named Marinette Dupain-Cheng whom Lila is in the same class with and knew the dress belonged to.” Video Chloe said.

“Really? Doesn’t she know what kind of exposure an article in this newspaper can give to young artists? Especially considering that the Next Big Night Fundraiser is approaching. This is when the organizers and founders of the event start looking for possible recipients for the Next Big Thing title.” The journalist asked. “What kind of petty high school drama would make her lie about that?”

“What indeed?” The in class version of Chloe asked as the video on the screen ended. “I’m sure we all remember Marinette’s little freak out that day when she tried to vault a desk to get to Lila. Her outlandish claims of sabotage have more weight now, don’t they?”

Oops. Looks like Lila’s stone face started to crumble. Only slightly. She wasn’t about to give anything away yet.

“Now, I could go into all the other interviews I managed to accumulate with other famous contacts Lila claimed to know like, Jagged Stone, Prince Ali, and Clara Nightingale. So I will!” Chloe pulled up another video. This time a short montage of said celebrities holding a photo of Lila and stating that they had no idea who this person was and debunking whatever claim she made about them right then and there.

The quiet whispers passed around the class were now getting louder before Chloe called their attention back to her.

“Now, for the final nail in the coffin of Marinette’s departure from the school,” Chloe clicked the remote again with a list of items appearing on the screen. The stolen items Marinette was framed for stealing. “Her supposed theft of various objects from the rest of the class. Like Nino’s headphones,”

The screen changed to a picture of Lila grabbing the headphones out of Nino’s bookbag while his back was turned.

“Or Max’s charger.”

Another photo of Lila snatching the charger off of the table in the library Max was sitting at while he was reading.

“Mylene’s headband and Rose and Juleka’s pencil toppers.”

Two more photos both of Lila clearly reaching into the girl’s lockers and pulling out the objects.

“Unfortunately I have no evidence of her putting these in Dupain-Cheng’s bag as there are no cameras set up inside the classroom but I think the evidence of her initially being the one to steal the items speaks for itself. Lila Rossi is Dolos. Spirit of trickery and deception that drove away the Truth.”

All eyes were on Lila now. Unperturbed Lila stood up and walked to the front of the class next to Chloe. “Chloe, I will be the first to say that this is a very nice project. You obviously put a lot of work into it. Not only trying to create a parallel of high school drama to an ancient tragedy. Spectacular work. I can’t believe you even got all those celebrities to play along for it with those fake interviews. I’m sure that as the mayor’s daughter they were only too happy to help you with your project.”

Oh no. Lila really didn’t think she was going to lie her way out of this, did she? There was no way! There was video and photographic evidence on all accounts!

“These photos are some of the best photoshopping I’ve seen. You must have worked with Alya over there to create them.” Lila waved at Alya recording. “But I think there should be a helpful disclaimer to remind everyone that this is in fact a work of fiction twisted to look like real life events.”

“You are not that lucky, Rossi.” Chloe made a come hither motion and Adrien stood up. “While I know everyone in class has got to be at least speculative about me, I know they all believe Adrien. What reason do they have not to? He’s done nothing wrong ever in his life.”

This time it was Adrien who addressed the class. “I can confirm that what Chloe has said this morning is true. All of it. I knew Lila was a liar from the beginning and that she was hurting Marinette. I thought that she couldn’t cause such horrible damage to our class with her lies but I was wrong. I made Marinette ignore the problem like I did and it cost me dearly. Cost us dearly.”

He wasn’t smiling as he turned to Lila. “After what you did to Marinette and how I saw her cry because you had managed to turn the entire school against her I offered to come back and expose you for the liar you are. It was Marinette who convinced me not to so that the class wouldn’t turn against me next. It may have cost me some good friends but there are times that I look at this environment you created with your selfishness and think that maybe getting pulled from school altogether wouldn’t be bad if it meant getting away from you.”

At this the class got into a frenzy as they tried to attack Adrien for knowing the truth and not exposing Lila earlier if what he said was true. Chloe whistled loudly drowning out the frantic voices and restoring order once again.

“I’m not done.” Chloe rolled her eyes. “To close out my project I wanted to bring special attention to this particular parallel

“In one of Aesop’s fables he tells the a tale of a man that found Alethia in the wilderness away from civilization and asked what she was doing there. I believe this ties in very well with the treatment that Dupain-Cheng received during her tenure here. The quote is as follows: “A man was journeying in the wilderness and he found Aletheia standing there all alone. He said to her, ‘Ancient lady, why do you dwell here in the wilderness, leaving the city behind?’ From the great depths of her wisdom, Alethia replied, ‘Among the people of old, lies were found among only a few, but now they have spread throughout all of human society!’” Chloe read dramatically, “Now if we were to take the people of old referenced here and imagine it as the people of this class and the little white lies we all have told from time to time that would be a fair comparison. But when Lila Rossi started to attend our school her lies infected our peer group and her influence has been felt throughout the entire establishment. Thus the lies found among only a few have spread throughout the whole school and with it has also driven away the truth...and a friend.”

Lila wasn’t smug now. Her hands shaking slightly out of either fear or anger.

The entire class was stunned into silence for about ten seconds before everything exploded. People were launching up from their seats and pointing at Lila with anger and disbelief. It was hard to make anything out with all the noise but a very distressed Lila stood in the center of the storm trying to fix everything before getting overwhelmed and running out of the room.

After that the camera turned to Chloe and Adrien wearing matching smug grins before the video ended.

---

“That was glorious!” Marinette tried not to be one of those people that revelled in other people’s misery but Lila had this coming. And Marinette loved every second of it.

There was a message along with the video that Marinette had failed to see prior to pressing play.

You are gonna get a lot of our lame classmates texting you apologies. You should ignore them. They aren’t worth the energy.

“Chloe…” Marinette’s giddy grin softened. She would never have guessed that her long time childhood bully could ever be so...nice.

Another message popped up. This time from Adrien.

Did you get Chloe’s message?

Yes I did. She texted back. It was amazing! How are things over there now that the storm has passed?

The storm is still going. After Lila bolted no one could keep quiet so Ms. Bustier left everyone to chat and get it out of their systems while she went to look for Lila.

Are you okay? I saw how everyone tried to lay into you.

No worries here. You know how Chloe is. We’re standing in the back rn watching the chaos. I keep hearing people say: Marinette was telling the truth

VINDICATION!

You deserve it!

Chloe told me not to respond to the apology texts I’m bound to get any second now.

You know me. I’d at least hear them out but I understand how they hurt you. Forgive but never forget and all that.

You’re right. In time yes but for right now I’m gonna leave them unread. Let them squirm a little.

Marinette no!

A text from Chloe.

I’ve been reading over Adrien’s shoulder and my response is, Marinette YES!

“I may have been slightly wrong about Chloe.” Kagami smiled, “To go to all that trouble just to prove your innocence? It is commendable.”

Marinette saved the video to her phone. “That’s why she’s Queen Bee.”

---

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (13)

---

(tagged) (idk why some of the tags aren’t working. I tried guys.)

@northernbluetongue @heredemaquam @zazzlejazzle @lady-flora-of-slytherin @ladylb @immatureidiot101 @kristycocopops @schrodingers25 @sublimemagazinestarlight @shamefullove

#DAMN DID THIS FEEL GOOD TO WRITE!#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #chloe bourgeois #alya cesaire #lila rossi #kagami tsurugi #ocs #salt fic #transfer au #writing

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scoutception · 5 years ago

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Chaos;Child review

Steins;Gate; it’s one of the most popular visual novels ever made, for very, very good reason. While I had played my fair share visual novels before, namely Ace Attorney, Danganronpa, and Zero Escape, Steins;Gate was still a very special experience for me that instantly launched me into the wider world of visual novels. More than anything, though, it made me extremely curious about the rest of the franchise around it; not just the sequel to it, Steins;Gate 0, but the whole rest of the Science Adventure series. For a bit of a rundown, the first game in this series, that many fans of Steins;Gate very likely have no clue about, was a title called Chaos;Head. Focusing on an extremely reclusive and paranoid high school student named Takumi Nishijou, who has his life thrown into chaos after witnessing the latest in a series of murders known as the New Generation Madness, it was an interesting story with a heavy focus on delusions, creating an interesting experience that, while still ultimately clear and conclusive, leaves you in the dark the majority of the time in regards to just what is happening, and how much is even real. While a good effort all around that served as a great base for Steins;Gate, it was ultimately held down by a lot of things, from smaller things like a pretty generic and unmemorable artstyle and mostly unremarkable voice acting, to much more noticeable things, from the slow, unfocused plot, to the underutilized cast of characters who never come together as a group, mostly just dropping in and out on an individual basis whenever the plot needs them, to the choice system of the game, the delusion trigger, which allows you to view a positive or negative scene Takumi imagines in response to surprising or stressful situations, being pretty much pointless, only rarely giving a better glimpse into Takumi’s characterization, to Takumi himself being extremely creepy, cowardly, and all around unlikeable, and not getting sufficient development across the story to make up for it, at least until the very last chapter. While it did get an updated version, Chaos;Head Noah, Chaos;Head was nonetheless buried beyond saving by Steins;Gate, not helped by not having an official localization to this day. As the cherry on top, it had a terrible anime adapation that tried to fit a fairly lengthy VN into a mere 12 episodes, completely wrecking the pacing, making the story even more confusing than was intended, and using an entire episode on useless filler to top it off. The reason I went into detail on that is, well, the subject of today’s review; Chaos;Head’s sequel, Chaos;Child. Chaos;Child is in an interesting spot in the series, firstly because as of right now, it’s the only main VN in the series other than the two Steins;Gate titles to have an official localization, and while both Robotics;Notes and Robotics;Notes DaSH are set to be localized this year, it still means it’s the only other title around to experience until those come out, at least in an official fashion. Secondly, unlike Steins;Gate 0 and Robotics;Notes DaSH, Chaos;Child is only a thematic sequel, with the cast of Chaos;Head not returning, with the exception of one side character having a fairly prominent role, and a few references and cameos for others. The main cast is otherwise a clean slate, and concepts of Chaos;Head are taken at a different angle. Aside from helping keep things fresh, it also allows it to take its own pace with introducing and explaining the main concepts, making it still cohesive even without having gone through Chaos;Head, though it’s still connected in important ways. The main point is, you don’t have to go through Chaos;Head to enjoy Chaos;Child, which is very good considering the various problems surrounding Chaos;Head. Now, the question is, is Chaos;Child worth going through by itself? The short answer is, absolutely, yes. It is a fantastic experience on par with Steins;Gate, and I would recommend it with all my passion. You can get it on PS4 or Steam. Seriously, go for it. As for the long answer, well, buckle in, because this’ll be a ride.

Chaos;Child takes place in 2015, 6 years after a devastating earthquake that utterly wrecked the ward of Shibuya during the events of Chaos;Head, leaving many physical and mental scars on the populace. Though Shibuya has since been rebuilt, a series of bizarre murders begin to occur on the days of the New Generation Madness, the series of killings that gripped Shibuya in the days before the earthquake. These killings, dubbed the Return of the New Generation Madness, leave the citizens of Shibuya morbidly captivated, much as the original incidents did, and unfortunately leave the police with no clues as to the identity of the culprit, seemingly leaving them to continue their crimes unopposed. Enter Takuru Miyashiro, a senior at Hekiho Academy and president of its newspaper club. Takuru was orphaned by the Shibuya earthquake and adopted by Wataru Sakuma, a doctor who has a foster home in the same building as his clinic, though Takuru has moved out into an RV by the time of the game due to an argument with his foster sister, Nono Kurusu, the student council president and vice president of the newspaper club. With the help of the other members of the club, Serika Onoe, Takuru’s reckless and rather dense childhood friend, Shinji Itou, Takuru’s confident best friend with an interest in bizarre murders such as the New Generation Madness, and Hana Kazuki, a mute girl who spends most of her time playing MMOs in the club room, Takuru conducts his own investigation of the Return of the New Generation Madness despite Nono’s concerns for his safety, independently discovering many clues and connections, such as the presence of the mysterious and creepy “Sumo Stickers” at the site of each murder. After taking his investigations too far and stumbling upon the scene of the latest murder, Takuru finds increasing evidence of the killer having capabilities far beyond that of a normal human- and that his discoveries may have put him in danger of becoming the next victim.

While this sounds much like the basic premise of Chaos;Head, in practice it’s very different. In Chaos;Heads, the New Gen murders, though certainly important, mostly just played out in the background, with Takumi rarely directly being involved. By contrast, the murders in Chaos;Child, and the mysteries around them, are the focus of the game, and it’s very worthy of it. The mysteries and reveals around them are downright fascinating, and gives the player just as many hints for them to follow as the characters, making for a very interesting plot to follow. Chaos;Child is also notable for being much, much darker than the previous entries in the series, which weren’t exactly flowers and rainbows themselves. The murders themselves are extremely gruesome and disturbing, the reveals don’t pull any sort of punches, and the majority of the game’s endings lie much closer to the bitter end of bittersweet, compared to, say, Steins;Gate’s endings. While it can get a bit draining by the end, Chaos;Child makes it work, never pushing you to the extent of becoming apathetic despite the horrors and tragedy of the plot, which is owed in large part to the well written and very sympathetic cast of characters.

Everyone in the main cast manages to be interesting, fun to have around, or both. Takuru himself is a very good protagonist, despite having a very unlikeable start. He’s arrogant, reckless, extremely awkward, overly stubborn, and downright petty in a lot of ways, especially regarding his obsession with staying on the “right side” of information, not to mention him treating the murders as something exciting and a way to get famous. Despite all that, he has a lot of development across the game, and starts early on it. He’s also got a much rougher past than some of the previous protagonists, which helps explain how he grew into the person he is.

Some of the other more memorable members of the cast include Hinae Arimura, who, though hyper and friendly on the surface, hides a very sharp tongue and a fairly cynical nature, Mio Kunosato, the exceedingly harsh, obsessive, and resourceful scientist investigating the Return of the New Generation Madness on her own, who makes an interesting contrast to the rest of the cast just because of how completely unpleasant she is, Shinji, who manages to be a much more likeable character than some of the previous obligatory male friends in the series, and my personal favorite, Nono, who despite seemingly being an unfairly harsh big sister type, quickly establishes herself as an extremely caring person, with a lot more emotional baggage than she lets on. A good chunk of the game’s emotional moments involve her, particularly her attempts to fix her very strained relationship with Takuru.

While all the characters make at least decent impressions to begin with, what helps them even further is the additional ending routes, branching off from the normal route depending on specific choices you make throughout the game. Compared to the way Steins;Gate handles its endings, these are full chapters, putting much more focus on characters such as Hinae and Hana, taking the plot in completely different directions. Not only are the stories of them interesting on their own, they do a great job of developing the characters and showing them from different perspectives.

What caps off the writing is the absolutely fantastic atmosphere the game builds. It goes very heavy with horror elements compared to Chaos;Head, and doesn’t skimp in any area. While it’s got the visuals down, the main strength is the buildup, suspense, and narrative description, all of which is fantastically done. Tense scenes go at a steady enough pace to let each small thing sink in, without being drawn out enough that you lose interest, and the much less ambiguous nature on what scenes are real or not makes any shifts of that sort much more effectively jarring. It’s seriously one of my favorite atmospheres in a game, and makes for a great experience for anyone even slightly a fan of horror.

The subject of “fake” scenes brings me to the main gameplay element of Chaos;Child: the Delusion Trigger. Every once in a while, a situation will make Takuru imagine a positive or negative delusion regarding it, with you being able to choose one to view before snapping back to the regular scene like nothing happened. While a decent idea on paper, like in Chaos;Head, it really doesn’t add much most of the time, and despite being your method for accessing the different endings, it really doesn’t tie into them at all. At the least, though, it does a decent job of showing Takuru is much less mature than he tries to appear, and if nothing else, they’re gold mines for random screenshots. They also appear less and less frequently as the game goes on, which helps keep them from distracting from more serious scenes.

On a more technical side of things, visually speaking, I like the look of the game quite a bit. While it doesn’t reach the heights of Steins;Gate in character designs or the general artstyle, though that’s a very high bar to reach for, the sprites, backgrounds, and CGs are all very well drawn on their own, and the designs are at least more distinctive than in Chaos;Head. The visuals also do a large part to help with the atmosphere; while it looks light on the surface, many scenes use lighting filters that do a lot to help the mood, and the CGs do not disappoint when they get serious.

The UI also looks great, and furthers the atmosphere even more. From the shadowy ends of the dialogue boxes moving passively, to the menu screen’s rolling fog, to the odd borders of the screen during delusions, it has a very stylish look.

Chaos;Child doesn’t disappoint on the audio side of things either. Series composer Takeshi Abo puts out a great soundtrack, as usual, with many catchy or atmospheric themes, along with vocal themes that are absolutely fantastic. The voice acting is also very good, with just about everyone giving out a great performance, in particular Yoshitsugu Matsuoka as Takuru, Sumire Uesaka as Serika, Sarah Emi Bridcutt as Nono, Suzuko Mimori as Hinae, and Risa Taneda as Mio.

The last thing to mention is that Chaos;Child is a very long visual novel. Not quite as monsterous as some, but it’s still a significant time drain, and while there is an anime adaptation, it is a terrible alternative. While not outright awful by itself, especially compared to Chaos;Head’s anime, 12 episodes is simply not enough time to make the story work. Not only does it have to rush to make nearly every chapter fit into one episode, absolutely ruining the pacing, it doesn’t adapt the other endings in any way, making a lot of the characters come off as way less developed, and couldn’t even adapt the true ending at first, which is just disgraceful. The visual novel is the only real way to experience it. And now that we’re at this point, I suppose it’s conclusion time.

Is Chaos;Child something I would recommend? 100% absolutely. Between the fantastic atmosphere, great cast of characters, and fascinating and emotional story, it is a special kind of experience that proudly stands with Steins;Gate as one of the greatest visual novels out there, in a genre with many fantastic works. It can be a bit slow to start, but once it gets going, it stays an amazing experience.

With that giant rant out of the way, I’m off to start on the last thing in the series there is for me to tackle as of now: Steins;Gate 0. Till next time. -Scout

#chaos child #5pb.#visual novel #steins;gate

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hysteriium · 5 years ago

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Karma’s a Bitch; {1}

// Deal With the Devil //

Steady hands met with the flesh of a tense bicep. An arm you knew by now would never relax despite your genuine reassurances.

With one scarred, blind eye and the other distant, refusing to look at you, it was always difficult to tell if he was in the present moment; aware. Or, if the infamous man was miles away, thinking — perhaps about what he’d do to you now if you messed up.

Though, maybe that was your anxiety talking.

Michael definitely wasn’t the nicest patient, there had been plenty of incidents over the years. Fatal ones. Yet, much to doctor Sartain’s persistence, Michael remained in the facility. It wasn’t ethical, but hey, you needed to get paid and so you tried your best to please everyone. Do your job for your boss, Sartain, and take care of Michael, since you were the only nurse who he allowed near him.

You wouldn’t say Michael trusted you. You figured he was quite unacquainted with the notion, yet you knew that he at least tolerated you. Seeming as you hadn’t been slammed against the wall, your brains splattering and contrasting against the blinding whiteness that coated the entire facility, this was a clear fact. A morbid, gory masterpiece that would almost belong in a museum; its message loud and clear.

With a gentle hum, you wrapped the measuring instrument around his arm. It wasn’t a daily process, but one that had to be performed every so often. It was a strict regulation with patients, especially with precious Michael (as your boss would so kindly emphasise), to ensure each patient was fit and healthy.

As you sat across from him, your gentle humming signified your distance from present-tense, your mind flickering elsewhere — dangerous. As your movements went into automation, you were too dazed to notice Michael slowly moving his head towards you; expression vacant, with no evidence of a human being residing within the flesh. It was only after completing the small task of writing down Michael’s scores when you stopped. Michael’s comparatively larger hand had halted you, your pen falling to the ground in a series of taps. It was a firm grip; you could never envision the man being gentle. It was a hold that signified if you made it difficult, there’d be no hesitation in ending your pathetic, significantly weaker, life.

Steady heartbeats morphed into that of panic, a hammering stampede. Taking in the new bits of information, you looked down at the man sitting before you, his gaze spilling into your own with such intensity it was hard to keep your eyes from saccading away. It had the capacity to turn even the hardest men into stone, like that of the great gorgon, Medusa. A flame lay within those dead eyes, ones that harboured the burning desire to kill.

“M-Michael?” Your voice came out as a pained whimper, and if he hadn’t had any indication you were bat shit terrified before, (which you doubted), he sure as hell knew now.

He could smell fear from a mile away.

His grip tightened at the sound of your small voice, the pullback of his arm forcing you closer to him with your faces mere inches apart. The action forced your eyes shut, and you felt your face involuntarily scrunch up in fear as you waited for impending doom. The atmosphere was suffocating, your body hot and tingling with adrenaline as the laboured breathing of your former patient, and soon to be murderer, triumphed. Its flow tickled the base of your neck, strands of your hair softly swaying against his harsh respire.

When you mustered enough courage to look, with the seconds speedily turning into minutes, you opened one glassy eye, tears pricking at the corners and threatening to spill. You weren’t sure which was more horrifying; getting hurt — and perhaps murdered by Michael — or the absence of pain that virtually seemed impossible to associate with the infamous man.

Then, as unexpected as it was abrupt, his strong hand released you.

Curious beyond articulation as to what the fuck happened, you didn’t need to be assaulted twice to know when to scramble out of there. Speedily you exited. Shaking hands collected your equipment before locking his cell. With no interest to look behind you, into the small window his cell had, you failed to witness his gaze still upon you, remaining that way until you completely vanished from view.

But, although you couldn’t see it, you sure as hell felt it.

——————

It had been days, perhaps a couple of weeks, since the incident and you hadn’t been back to see Michael. Despite your bosses protests and his covert empty threats, he was unable to get you back to your regular routine. Treating regular, less murderous patients was now your daily experience, and to be honest, you were much happier.

Living was currently an attractive state of being to you, so you were trying your best to avoid anything that could potentially endanger that. With Michael being the angel of death, it was obvious you would avoid him at all costs.

As for Michael, ever since the incident, he had been attacking the new nurses sent to him (attacks that hadn’t resulted in deaths, yet), or remained as uncooperative as possible. You’d be on shift, minding your own business until the piercing shrieks and cries of Michael’s next victim filled your ears. After awhile it became routine, and you instantly knew where the source was. You’d often see nurses with bruisings on their body, arms, legs, cuts from where he dug in his nails — and most commonly, bruising around the neck. It was particularly heartbreaking, especially since you had been one of the lucky ones; to put up with Michael for such a long time and to be able to continue on your day without an incident was a luxury. You weren’t entirely sure why that was the case. Either way, it didn’t stop the injured nurses' filthy looks whenever another staff member was assaulted, as if you had something to do with it; as if you had some kind of hold over Michael.

No one could control Michael, he was his own person.

Perhaps the violence was his silent protest to get you to return, you weren’t sure and you didn’t want to know. What you did know, however, was that Michael’s poor behaviour only worked to exacerbate the doctor's desperate pleas to return to Michael. He didn’t want the state to get any ideas, and he wanted to keep Michael in his clutches for as long as he possibly could. It was his primary objective, as he had once so nicely conceptualised. Sartain, someone you’d describe as a borderline madman, was still convinced he’d get groundbreaking research from Michael.

Delusional.

You were in one of the equipment rooms, ready to attend to another patient when Sartain strode in, his long lab coat floating in behind him. He made his way to you in long strides, eyes hard and focused with determination, peering into your own like an owl on cocaine.

Without even hearing him speak, you knew what this was about.

“No—“

“Hear me out, (Y/n)!”

“I’m not doing it—“

“He’s attacked another one miss (L/n). They’re transporting him in a few days and I need to know this won’t end up in failure. I need you there.”

You froze, biting your lip in thought, the bitter, metallic taste of blood only seemed fitting as you crossed your arms, contemplating the pros and cons.

The doctor not receiving an answer, interpreted your silence as a small victory, choosing to elaborate.

“He’ll be incredibly secured, chained up and driven in one of our busses. Nothing will go wrong, I can assure you that.”

You definitely needed a chance to think about it. Were you really going to endanger the lives of others just for your own comfort? It was a difficult decision that needed careful thought.

“I’ll be raising your pay, and it’ll be the last time you get to see Michael.”

Nevermind.

“Resorted to bribing now, sir?” You finally spoke up, a small smile tugging at your lips.

He shot you a playful smile, “so I’ll take that as a yes?”

Releasing a sigh, you slowly nod your head, barely believing what you were agreeing too.

“Okay, yes. Only if you’re certain it’s safe.”

“Utterly, and completely.”

As his smirk widened, happy at his win, you couldn’t help but feel like you were making a deal with the devil. A deal you felt you’d totally, and wholey, regret.

If only you knew how right you were.

Hey guys! This is my first three-shot / miniseries? Idk what to call it lmao. But I hope you enjoy! I'm really happy with how some of it turned out, I hope my characterisation of Michael is somewhat realistic. I don't particularly believe the narrative that he's completely unfeeling and further, incapable of feeling. I certainly do think due to the environment he grew up in (in the sanitarium), he was unable to really express and develop said emotions. With the added mixture of Loomis, and his psychobabble (he really needs his licence revoked), I really don't think that helped him lmao and this obviously added to the myth of 'The Shape'. Although Michael's emotions would be hard to access and even draw out in the first place, I still think it's possible that he'd feel some sort of affections for someone? It'll be very hard though. I also believe if he were to start feeling things for someone, he'd definitely be very confused, and it would lead to a lot of emotional outbursts, particularly anger - rage even - because of how unfamiliar it is; also due to how anger and rage are so "normal" for lack of a better word, he'd try his hardest to regress/revert back to some sense of familiarity. Though like how it is for most, repression of emotions really doesn't work, and this would thereby manifest itself as intense bouts of possessiveness and jealousy. Idk that's just my opinion and my own interpretation, I could be really fucking wrong lmao but I guess that's the beauty of writing. Anyway, Jesus, I'm rambling, I'll be surprised if anyone even reads this lmao. Thank you for reading if you did, I love you and I hope you enjoy!

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obscure-sentimentalist · 4 years ago

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for ya boi tate 2, 3, 10, 18, 30, 38, 44, 57, 64, 70, 80, 92, 100

For the original character asks

Oh, Tate, my sweet boy who wasn’t even supposed to be an original character, but evolved on his own and silently demanded that I tell his real story. He was entirely unanticipated, and now I can’t shut up about him.

Character context: Tate Merlyn, hailing from the being-reworked-and-written Distortion ‘verse. Tommy’s twin brother in a world where Malcolm decided to bring his young sons to the League of Assassins and train them for his own purposes. It takes many years for the brothers to get out, but they eventually settle back into Starling City, falling in with a certain vigilante operation and forming a tight-knit friendship (and later become roommates) with Felicity.

2. Do they like animals? Well, Tate doesn’t not like animals. However, the circumstances of his life didn’t give him a chance to have a pet, nor put him in contact with domestic animals often, and he never really let himself feel anything about that lack. At first impression, he’s ambivalent about animals.

But find him in a brighter future and give him a kitten to hold or a dog to run into on the street, and he’ll melt the second he makes eye-contact with them. Lots of soft, dopey smiles all around.

3. How do they dress? Ah, yes, a topic that honestly shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.

Given that this is a universe where Malcolm is an even shittier father than in canon and has two sons who he’s shaped into his personal weapons from a young age, Tate doesn’t have a fashion sense for much of his life. When he isn’t in League uniform, his clothes are all black and gray, meant for utility and nothing more. The most he’ll allow himself is whatever excess warmth he can get from an old sweatshirt or hoodie, if one is on hand.

Even once he’s free enough to choose for himself, for a long time, Tate just… sticks with his wardrobe and its utter lack of character. Practical is fine, and it saves him time if he just grabs whatever’s in his drawer without looking--it’s about all the same, anyway. Why add another step?

It takes active intervention from Tommy and Felicity (and an incident involving a laundry mix-up) for Tate to start introducing more variety to his closet. He still opts for deeper, darker colors (more autumnal) for everyday wear, but at least it’s color. He’s also into flannels, though he has to be careful with any facial hair he might have, because he’ll make himself ripe for lumberjack-related playful mockery.

There are also plenty of warm sweaters and sweatshirts, because Tate loves being cozy, though the colors of those tend to lean on the lighter, softer end of the spectrum. He loves them, and over time begins to wear them more often than just around the house.

10. Do they have any nicknames? “Tater Tot.” There was no escaping that one, especially with a brother like Tommy. It’s often met with a fond “asshole” in reply, because these boys are such children.

He’s been called a few other silly things by those around him, though not quite to the level of a full-on nickname. Still, they’re often said quite lovingly, which fills Tate with a sort of warmth.

(He can’t say the same about the other names he’s gone by, so… he’ll take this.)

18. What flaws do they have? Tate’s biggest flaw is that he’s self-sacrificial as hell. It’s a character trait that sets up his whole role in the story, one that’s evolved painfully over time and the consequences of which are hooked deep in the narrative. Tate is just a dear, tragic boy whose attempts to protect and save his brother at the expense of himself go catastrophically wrong sometimes, and it takes him a very long time to unlearn that behavior.

Tate has plenty of other heavy-stuff flaws, but in more lighthearted terms… he can’t cook an edible meal, no matter how hard he tries. He can bake a little, if it’s just cookies or box-mix cake, and he’s a tea-making master, but any actual entree stands a fair chance of being toxic for human consumption. His archery skills are also abysmal--despite it being his father’s forte, and later surrounding himself with so many bow-wielding vigilantes--to the point where a plate of pancakes is more likely to be lethal than arrows fired by Tate. The people in his life lovingly refuse to let him live these foibles down.

30. What music do they enjoy? For the most part, Tate likes whatever songs make him happy, or simply jive with him. He’ll dig into some artists if more than a few of their tracks already appeal to him, but by and large he’ll rely on stumbling across individual songs that have a nice sound, no matter the genre.

He does tend to favor pieces that are more instrumental or have subtler, simpler vocals, though. It’s partially because that’s best suited to his quiet demeanor, and partially because lyrics are a bit of a tough spot for him, especially with more emotional, introspective songs. He can certainly appreciate well-crafted songwriting, but every once in a while a line will strike him in a particular, relatable way, and it makes him uncomfortable. Tate’s also a bit of an old man with a lot of top hits, grumbling about how he just wants some fun tunes, but here’s everyone talking about their bodies and other people’s and what they’re going to do with them, can he please just get songs about platonic affection every once in a while.

38. Are they the hero, or anti-hero? Definitely a hero, even though he won’t think of himself in those terms for a very long time, and his introduction in the present of the narrative--catching him at his lowest, darkest, most threatening point--sure doesn’t make it seem that way. His journey from that stage to the soft, heroic boy he becomes is messy and complex, but so meaningful.

44. How do they speak? Examples - Are they soft spoken, hot heated, vulgar Truly, my favorite part of this precious boy, the most defining Tate trait. He just… doesn’t speak much.

It’s not that he’s not good with words, or doesn’t pay much attention--Tate is pretty damn eloquent when he wants to be, and is observant to a fault. He’s merely incredibly selective with when and how he uses his words, which is a very distinctive contrast from Tommy’s frequent need to say something. Tate is fully capable of getting his point across with his body language and expression alone, or lets his brother do the talking for both of them.

To some extent, this is his nature, to be quiet and lean more into the nonverbal, but it was certainly exacerbated by the conditions he grew up under. In dealing with Malcolm and any sort of League business, Tate’s instinctive defense was to keep silent and speak only when expected--typically in response to or in clarification of orders. Quiet became less of something calming and wanted; and more of a necessity, a protection, a falling-in-line.

Tate may speak more often--not by much, but somewhat--in better times, but that’s because he feels comfortable and free enough to do so, and he’s leagues from being as talkative as Tommy. Still, even his silence is different, more expressive of his current mood instead of just serving as white noise, a smothering and muting of his feelings.

57. What do they do when they are happy? Tate is just a very tactile, huggy guy when he allows himself to be, and that often becomes particularly clear when he’s in a good mood. The happier he is, the more octopus-like he gets with his clinginess, but it’s sweet.

Either that, or he just dives head-first into his love of tea--making it, organizing his collection of it, buying more of it...

64. Do they like to dance? If he’s asked, Tate won’t answer that question--he’ll just silently raise his eyebrows and stare pointedly back at whoever brought it up. (If it’s Oliver or Roy, there’s another layer to the look, a clear returning of the question to them in challenge.)

The truth of it is yes, he does like to dance if the music and time are right, but he looks like a suburban dad at a barbecue when he does and he’s well aware of that fact. Better to act like he’s a townsperson from Footloose than hint that he even attempts to have a sense of rhythm.

70. Do they like themselves? Oof.

Tate… he’s done things. Granted, most of them were because he never actually had a choice unless he was willing to risk the consequences (if he was the assured sole recipient of them, he’d be more likely to; unfortunately, this was rarely ever the case, so Tate would fall in line for Tommy’s sake), but Tate is still accountable for how they went down. For as much as he can attribute his actions to trying to keep himself and his brother alive and free from as much harm as is avoidable, there’s still literal blood on his hands.

The thing that burns Tate the most, though, is the one decision he made of his own volition with the direct intention of hurting Tommy--again, for his safety, but that doesn’t make it any better. While the twins reconcile and rebuild their brotherhood even stronger than before, it’s still a blackened spot in their history even with the truth of it unraveled.

The question of whether or not Tate likes himself will be met with a vehement no for longer than anyone around him might expect, even as he gets more comfortable in his new life and knits himself into a group of people he can trust and who care. It’s recovery from the harm of the past, but Tate won’t feel comfortable in saying he likes himself until he figures out who that even is.

It’ll take time, but one day he’ll have a positive response.

80. How would they fare in a zombie apocalypse? Oh, Tate has the necessary skills down pretty darn well, knife expert ex-assassin and survivalist that he is. His biggest problem in that situation would just be the bitter frustration that he spent nearly 20 years of his life just trying to make it through a terrible situation, and he gets out only to be dumped into this? It’s another long fight for his life, which is disheartening for a guy who’s finally let himself admit that he just wants a chance to actually live. But he’ll handle it with grim determination, and hopefully with his brother at his side.

92. If they were given minutes to live, what would they do? Who would they want to see and say? Tate wouldn’t say much of anything here--he rarely ever needs words to express himself to the fullest.

Depending on the timeline--even solely focused on his better days--the number of people he’d want to see varies (thankfully, it grows as the years pass). But if he’s on a tight time limit and can only choose a few, then it’s without a doubt Tommy and Felicity. The three of them are the core found family (well, the twins are obviously twins, but still), the foundation of Tate’s life free of his father’s plans. And all Tate would want from his last minutes is to have the two of them present, to hold and be held in a tight group hug.

Tate is truly a simple man--just give him his people and a hug, and he can make peace with the situation.

100. Are they a day, or night person? Tough to say with Tate. For most of his life, he’d never really had that luxury--he’d be up at the asscrack of dawn or wide awake under the night sky depending on what was required of him. He’s adaptable by necessity.

But if we look to his better future… he’s still kind of middle-ground. He’ll generally be up at a reasonable definition of early in the morning, but also likes to take naps around the house when it’s particularly sunny and he’s not busy. Likewise, Tate will be fully alert at night for the amount of time he needs to be (whether it’s for crime-fighting-related activities, or just movie night), but will pass out the second he drops onto his bed, if he feels safe and comfortable enough with his surroundings to do so.

#obscure-sentimentalist writes sometimes #and cries about Distortion 'verse #and yells about her sweet boy Tate #truly I have not had my heart stolen by an original character like this ever before

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obsidianarchives · 5 years ago

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Body Shaming in 'Harry Potter'

Re-reading the beginning of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, I’m surprised by how much I sympathize with the Dursleys. I don’t particularly like them in the general sense, but considering the scene where the Weasleys come to pick up Harry from their perspective, and Dudley’s perspective in particular, it becomes incredibly difficult to imagine a world in which they weren’t deeply skeptical and suspicious of magic. Magic, for the Dursleys, is scary and destructive, and for Dudley, in particular, has enacted much violence upon his body.

It is no secret that I have been a long-time fan of the Harry Potter series, as something that I have held near and dear to my heart for a long time, and at certain points in my life it has filled the religious and spiritual void that I felt within myself. And yet, as much as I often treat the series as a sacred text, there are a great many failings, and nowhere do I feel that is more clear than in the vicious attacks that are made against those who do not fit into the conventional molds of body image. The narration of the text uses the description of the body as a weapon, and a proxy for how we are meant to feel about a given character.

This is not uncommon in storytelling, and not unique to Harry Potter. The common narrative that society tells us is that pretty people are good and ugly people are bad, and society also tends to have pretty strict and nasty ways of describing who fits into either of those categories. The Harry Potter series is one in which there are very few characters where their race is explicitly stated, which is good because it means that there is room for interpretation. But one thing that is often explicitly stated in the text is when a character is being described negatively, they are given a value judgment based on their appearance and how they achieved that appearance. And nowhere is that more clear than with Dudley Dursley.

From the moment that we are introduced to Dudley, we are given the impression that he is a misbehaving child — the first word his says is either “shan’t” or “won’t” depending on your edition and he is described as “kicking and screaming for sweets.” He’s called a “beach ball” and a “pig in a wig.” Again and again the reader is hit over the head with the fact that Dudley — who is bad — is fat, while Harry — who is good — is skinny. Dudley is spoiled and petulant, and yes, he’s a bit of a horrible kid, but also he has really horrible parents. Dumbledore is not wrong in book six when he says that Vernon and Petunia have done a disservice to Dudley in treating him the way that they have. But Dudley is also mistreated by wizards. Hagrid gives Dudley a pig’s tail — was intending to turn him into a pig completely — and knows that he cannot reverse that. He never does reverse it, and by telling Harry not to tell anyone (protecting his own interests since Hagrid is not supposed to use magic) Hagrid dooms Dudley to needing to get the tail surgically removed by Muggle means, which was no doubt expensive, humiliating, and painful.

The ton-tongue toffee incident, which is what prompted me to ruminate on all this again, I found to be just so cruel. Because Dudley is on this incredibly forced and restrictive diet, being taunted by Harry — who is not following it at all — and is basically going cold turkey on all the foods he has normally had. His whole worldview has shifted when his version of normal (although it was anything but) changed. He’s not actually starving, but he probably feels like it, because it is such an abrupt shift in his eating habits. And here are the first sweets he has seen in probably months, and they cause this horribly, physically, and psychologically painful incident.

Then, only a year later Dudley has the experience with the dementor, a monster that almost sucked out his soul. This is often remarked upon as the turning point, where Dudley starts to evaluate his actions and change his ways. And yet this change is due to a real violence by magic, and as a whole magic has not been kind to Dudley. Nonetheless, at the start of the seventh book he was able to make an effort to reach out to Harry. The problem is that it’s framed as though Dudley only gets to make this transformation into a better person once he has matured enough to start getting into a “better” physical shape. Once he takes up boxing, and becomes athletic, his bulk is attributed to muscle rather than fat. Only then is he allowed to be something akin to a better person.

All over the Harry Potter canon we see unpleasant people described as being ugly. Pansy pug-faced Parkinson. Umbridge the toad. These are the people we are clearly supposed to dislike, and these traits are not assigned to antagonists as a way to set them apart. But the way it works with fatness is a bit different, because for all that Vernon and Dudley are called out for their weight, the characters we are supposed to like, even if they share a somewhat similar physical shape, don’t get this treatment. Neville, for example, is simply called a “round-faced boy.” But the actors who play Neville and Dudley looked so similar to each other when I watched Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone for the first time at age five that I got confused and thought Dudley had somehow ended up at Hogwarts. And Mrs. Weasley is described as being “plump.” Ludo Bagman, who is a character we are meant to both dislike and sympathize with, is described in middling terms.

“He had the look of a powerfully built man gone slightly to seed; the robes were stretched tightly across a large belly he surely had not had in the days when he had played Quidditch for England. His nose was squashed (probably broken by a stray Bludger, Harry thought), but his round blue eyes, short blond hair and rosy complexion made him look like a very overgrown schoolboy.” — Chapter Seven ‘Bagman and Crouch.’

These small moments in the way characters are introduced make the characters memorable, but they are also slightly insidious, and not at all kind when the narrator doesn’t want to be.

All told, fitting the conventional mold is not a universally bad thing, but the way this is portrayed is problematic because the way in which certain characters but not others are shamed for their weight/appearance seems to promote the idea that being treated with respect regarding one's body is a privilege that can be revoked in response to bad behavior, rather than the basic human right that it should be. This falls into a pattern of privilege where some privileges, like how Dudley is spoiled by Vernon and Petunia, are things that no one should have, whereas the privilege of being afforded basic respect regardless of one’s body type is a privilege that everyone should have.

There are also many slights against people who are perceived as thinner too. Petunia, for example, is often contrasted against Vernon as being quite thin. In their first introduction, they are compared as having “hardly any neck” and “nearly twice the usual amount of neck” respectively. The critique of Petunia’s size is on the opposite side of the spectrum, but it’s there, and it shows that the body-shaming in the series is across all body types, and in particular, directly correlated with a character’s likeability.

I’m not capable of cancelling in its entirety something so fundamental to my worldview as the Harry Potter series. But the more often I return to the text as an adult, the more flaws I find. In a way, that is almost a good thing, because in finding the parts of Harry Potter that don’t hold up to scrutiny, I am able to hold a mirror to the ways society as a whole does not hold up to scrutiny. At the same time, I can’t say that in good faith, because Harry Potter is a book series targeted at children, who can through the lens of these books (as well as the rest of society’s pressures) internalize the idea that it’s OK to make value judgments about someone based on their body, which is simply not true. We must imagine people complexly. And I guess that means we have to imagine books complexly too.

Header image via Wizarding World

#Petunia Dursley #Dudley Dursley #Vernon Dursley #Harry Potter #The Critical Companion #Critical Fandom

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bondsmagii · 5 years ago

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(over the last month or so, I’ve been working on a small project for Halloween. I’ve long since been fascinated by the paranormal experiences that occur in childhood – it seems everyone has at least one incident that occurred when they were younger that they can’t explain now. I have many, of course, but I started thinking about the children I grew up with. what were my childhood friends experiencing at the same age as I was, when we were in class together; hung around together? I managed to get in touch with several old friends I had from the ages of 8-11, and asked them to share that one incident they couldn’t explain. I have recreated the stories here, with my own narrative supported by excerpts from their letters – and it’s a pretty impressive bunch of stories.)

JAMES

James wrote to me with a story regarding one of those childhood memories that are horrific even at the best of times: middle school dances. Where we grew up, children were in middle school from the ages of 8 to 11, so as you can imagine, dances were closely monitored and not exactly places where much could happen – at least, if you didn’t go looking for trouble like James and his friend Mitchell were known to do.

The dance was held in the hall, which doubled as the gym and cafeteria. There were three ways in and out: the short staircase and doorway from the main entrance, the door in the hallway near the girls’ changing rooms, and the doors that led directly outside to a deck and part of the playing fields. All of these doors were closely monitored by teachers, and the rest of the school was barred off with one exception.: the classroom opposite the hall door had been set up with drinks and snacks, and because such things weren’t allowed in the main hall (nobody wanted sticky drinks near a bunch of hyperactive children damn near moshing to 90s hits) the classroom’s doors leading to a central courtyard were opened, and kids were allowed out there only for the time it took to eat or drink whatever they had. Teachers were stationed outside to ensure that everybody went back inside as soon as possible, even though the courtyard was enclosed on all sides by the school; perhaps it was for that reason that James and Mitchell took offence to what they deemed a petty rule, but he doesn’t remember for sure.

All I really remember is that Mitch and I decided to try and get out of the courtyard, so we snuck off through the plants and went to the hallway on the other side, trying to find an open door. It was like, November or something, and about 7pm, so it was totally dark, and once we were on the other side of the courtyard there was no way the teachers would be able to see us. We figured that would be the end of the laugh, but then Mitch tried a door and it was open. We’d managed to make it into the closed off part of the school, and it was pitch black and totally awesome.

From what James recalls, this would have been 2000, almost 2001. Sensor lights were not really a thing, and aside from normal key locks on the classroom doors, there were no interior doors locked or requiring cards to be scanned or anything futuristic like that. James and Mitch, having bypassed the teachers’ guard, had free run of the other three hallways that made up the square-shaped school; so long as they didn’t get spotted by the teachers in the courtyard, they would be fine. All the hallways had windows looking out onto it, but everything was dark, so the two of them were able to wander freely, if slowly – it really was dark, and most definitely unnerving.

I think one of those specifically creepy places is a school at night. I think it’s probably got the same feel to it as abandoned buildings – perhaps I don’t have to explain it to you, what with you being into urbex, but there’s just something about a building that should be busy being so deserted… it’s so fucking eerie. Here were these corridors that Mitch and I had walked down a thousand times, but now they were silent, and dark, and the glass on the classroom doors was reflecting our movements, and nothing looked how it should. The trays and shelves of projects and assignments took on monstrous new shapes, and when we stepped through into the library/computer lab it was like this great vault of darkness opened up; I know I was kind of unnerved at that point, and so was Mitch, but neither of us wanted to admit it.

This area of the school was the only place where the courtyard could not be seen; its only windows opened out onto the dark playing fields. James and Mitch were in total blackness and silence now, and as they debated what to do next, Mitch pointed out something odd over by the playing fields. James says:

The playing fields, as you remember, were huge. They were pretty dark that night, and at first I couldn’t see what Mitch was talking about. I thought he was fucking with me, because he was on about seeing a man standing on the playing field. I looked for a while but couldn’t see, and I was about to call him out on it when I saw the guy. In the same moment, Mitch grabbed my arm, like “do you see him?”

Mitch had been insisting that the man had been coming closer, and now James could see him, he wondered if Mitch might be telling the truth. The figure was still too far away to be able to make out features, but it was definitely a person, dressed entirely in dark clothing. As James watched, the figure seemed to get closer again, though for some strange reason they couldn’t make out his legs. He was far enough away that they should have been able to see them before the window cut him off, but they figured the angle was strange, and tried instead to work out just who he might be.

It seemed there was a pattern. The figure would move slightly closer to the darkened building, as though checking to see if he had been observed, and then edge closer again. James and Mitch, confident that they couldn’t be seen in the darkness of the library, stood very still and watched.

“Do you think we should tell somebody?” Mitch eventually asked.

“We’ll get into trouble,” James pointed out. “We’re not supposed to be here, remember?”

“I guess. Yeah, he can’t get in anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Don’t people cut through there sometimes?” James asked. “From the houses and stuff?”

“Yeah, but they don’t creep around two steps at a time,” Mitch said, and laughed. “Weirdo. Should we go back, or try and make it all the way around?”

They decided to try and make it all the way around, leaving what they called the weird stalker to do whatever it was that he was doing. As mentioned, the main school was made up of four straight halls with classrooms and various alcoves coming off them; if they kept walking, they would end up at the main entrance, and would hopefully be able to sneak back in through the other door and back into the hall. They got close enough that they could hear the lyrics of the music over the pounding bass, and then a door in the final hallway – the staff corridor – opened and light spilled out, freezing them in their tracks. They watched as several teachers came out of the staff room, laughing, and paused to chat in the hallway.

“This way,” James whispered, and they turned back up towards the library, hoping to double back the way they came.

“Wonder if we’ll see the weird stalker again,” Mitch grinned, as they vanished back into the dark.

“Probably be standing there blowing raspberries against the window,” James joked, and like all jokes told when it would be unwise to laugh, the two of them found the idea ridiculously hilarious. They were still laughing when they reached the library, seeing no sign of him and expressing their disappointment that he wasn’t.

Then they came around one of the shelves and saw one of the windows in full, and there he was. They still couldn’t make out features – James describes him as following:

From a distance it had looked like he was so formless because he was bundled up in winter clothes, but when he was this close we realised there was still no real shape to him. He looked like a person, but more like the outline of a person; there were no lines or shadows to denote clothing or facial features. It was just a solid mass of black, pressed right up against the window, and then he took another step forward and just… stepped into the room.

James and Mitch ran, of course. They headed for the doors leading to the first hall – the one with the unlocked door leading back to the courtyard – and before they ran through, James took one look back.

It was only a quick glance, but I’m pretty certain of what I saw. The figure was standing, silhouetted, against the windows, still a solid mass with no real features. It was definitely inside, because I could see the shoes or feet or whatever now, against the carpet (the carpet was a light blue, so it was very clear). Just before I turned away again – probably the same moment – I saw the figure kind of just collapse, or disintegrate… one moment he was there, looking solid, and the next he had slid to the ground in a sudden formless rush, and was gone.

They made it back to the courtyard and avoided getting caught. They only dared to mention it to their friends (myself included) in the safety of a bright, busy school day the following week; despite our investigating, none of us could find anything to explain it – no potential tricks of the light, no weird abnormalities on the walls or carpet, no reflections, no creepy backstories about the school or the area. Despite sneaking out during several more dances, nothing like it occurred again.

The school was closed in 2015, and has remained abandoned ever since.

#creeptastic #creepypasta #halloween posts #paranormal #unexplained #childhood experiences project #my creepypasta

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enkisstories · 5 years ago

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Just like them

- Short Detroit Become Human fanfic starring Daniel - - Close enough to canon, not my Sims!AU - November 15, 2038 Park Avenue

Daniel placed his hand on the door lock. However, the device rejected his request almost instantly.

ACCESS DENIED

It wasn’t just a string of bright letters, the message additionally burned itself into the android brain. And although the narrative went that androids didn’t feel pain, the sharp sting of the “Nope” signal along with all the emotions it triggered in Daniel’s deviant mind were unpleasant to say the least.

“Shit!”

Daniel raised his hand – or rather, he moved his shoulder to lift the replacement arm and hand up, spare parts salvaged from other unfortunates that had found themselves in the DPD’s evidence archive. Just when the new limbs had started to feel less like prostheses and more like parts of himself, the android had to receive a reminder to the fact that this wasn’t the case. His real hand was lost and with it the RFID tag that would have opened the door to the Phillips apartment.

Daniel wondered briefly the key to which door he was carrying now, because some signal had gotten exchanged between the hand and the door lock. If there had been no key present at all, the door would just have stayed silent instead of bellowing its “Access denied” at the intruder.

A shutdown police auxiliary beyond repair had “donated” Daniel’s new legs, but also the hand? Daniel didn’t remember. It hadn’t mattered earlier that day when they had set him more or less free.

And now the android he was standing here, with an electronic cuff somewhere in his system, a novel worth of parole terms in his head, but fresh out of an emergency override keycard for his own home.

I should have went with that guy from Jericho when he offered it. But, noooooo, I HAD to do this alone, because I don’t NEED help at all. And I shouted at him, so there’s no turning back now. It’s getting dark anyway. And ‘sides, I have a right to this flat! It’s my inheritance, the pay for four years of service, no way I’m going to live in, what was it, a wrecked cruise ship or something? No way!

Tap,tap,tap… jingle,jingle,jingle… swoosh

Daniel exited the elevator and only when the doors closed behind him did he realize that he had just traveled downwards by one floor without actually having decided to do so.

Check. Deviant brain doing deviant stuff. They warned me about this.

Daniel’s subconsciousness had taken over, now the question was where had it taken him?

Looking around Daniel discovered that he was standing right in front of an apartment door, one hand raised slightly, obviously in an attempt to ring the doorbell. The nameplate that went with the bell read “Rasoya”.

Ah, right, that was familiar territory. The Rasoyas were the Phillips’ direct downstairs neighbors. They had helped them out by taking Emma when her parents were out and with sugar, flour and eggs that Caroline tended to forget to stock up in sufficient quantity. That had been before Daniel had joined the household, of course, but even with the Phillips owning a state of the art household assistant made by CyberLife now the families had remained… close?

I have always assumed we were close, but looking back I feel “habitually on speaking terms” is more precise.

Someone was stirring now inside the apartment and a female voice rose up:

“I think I heard someone at the door! Will you take a look?”

“Yes, it’s me!” Daniel shouted back, then rang the bell.

Someone was looking through a spyhole, not trusting the electronic security camera, then opened the door. Before it was fully open, Daniel already gasped at the person behind it: “Can I borrow a crowbar, please, Mrs. Rasoya? I need to break into the Phillips apartment!”

Mrs. Rasoya laughed so hard at this that the toddler boy she was holding was shaking violently. Reflexively Daniel grabbed him while Mrs. Rasoya was still trying to get a grip on herself. Eventually the woman said:

“Daniel Phillips – the most polite android revolutionary ever.”

“Calm down, calm down!” Daniel shushed the human. “I’m not with Markus or whoever, I don’t even have a clear idea what exactly’s going on!”

I mean, when have I ever? I lived in an illusion all my existence, believing myself appreciated… sheltered… Going by my experience Markus could just be another Connor: playing nice, but harboring ulterior motives.

“They just…”

Looking for a familiar term in all the madness that was the present, the android continued:

“…let me out of prison and here I am, but I can’t enter my own damn apartment!”

“Own dan apartment!” little Caden Rasoya repeated cheerfully, at which his grandmother demanded the kid to get returned to her.

“Raj, dear?” she called into the apartment and a few heartbeats later her adult son, Caden’s father, appeared. Raj was a gourmet chef and his body was certainly looking the part, although he tended to dress extremely casually at home.

“Would you accompany Danny here upstairs to break down the Phillips’s door, Raj?”

“You know what, mom?” Raj laughed out loud. “This is by far the most normal request I’ve heard those last few days.”

Daniel watched Mrs. Rasoya retreat into her home where she picked up an old handheld gaming device that she had been playing on. He heard Caden giggle. The TV was running, Caden giggled some more, but then listened intently to his mother, who was explaining something connected to the evening children’s show they were watching. Everything was so normal!

Why were the Rasoyas still here, Daniel wondered? Were the feeling that the worst was behind them and deeming it save to stay in Detroit, even though the president had arranged an evacuation of a scope that put to shame even the annual floods? Were these humans maybe just as attached to their territory as Daniel himself was? Regardless of the possible consequences? In retrospect, what if Caroline had still been here tonight? Or – was she, maybe?!

“Uh… Is Caroline…?” Daniel started asking Raj.

“Left Detroit. In fact, she didn’t even wait for the presidential nudge to do so.”

“Ah.”

Raj grabbed the doorknob and with his head motioned the android to join him.

“Come in!”

“But I need to…”

“No way I’m trying to kick in a sturdy apartment door, least of all with security still intact”, Raj explained. “And neither should you do that, with a criminal record on your head. You have one…?”

“Yes, yes, it’s all legit. The DPD knows I’m here, but, fuck, I should have asked for an escort to actually get into my home.”

“You certainly picked up some language there that you didn’t know before”, Raj commented, still more amused than wary. Definitely wary, too, but not to an extent that prevented the man from acting civilly.

“But what am I to do now?”

“You’ll want to take the balcony route, Daniel. Climb up from our balcony and find your door. It was never properly repaired after… the incident, you should be able to push it open easily.”

“That’s that Connor’s fault!” Daniel spat. “It doesn’t respect anything!”

And that were the last words he exchanged with the Rasoyas. Without even a “thanks” the deviant made haste towards the balcony, jumped onto the railing and started scaling the apartment building like an ape. A PL600 wasn’t particularly strong, but their dexterity and eye-hand-coordination had to be rated outstanding even compared to other androids. Daniel was also rather agile, although he suspected that was a personal feat, nothing hard-coded in his system specs. And of course his new PC200 legs were also contributing to his athletic ability.

Inside the Phillips home Daniel didn’t linger much in the apartment proper, but instead went straight to the fish tank in the floor.

“Huey, Dewey, Louie… everyone still there!” he noticed with relief. “It’s feeding time, gentlemen! – Hehe, yes, go for it! No need to fight, there’s more where this is coming from!”

Smiling the android watched the fish gorge themselves. When had been the last time they had been fed, he wondered? So typical of Caroline! Flaunting the family fortune, but possessed of a total disregard of actual living beings. Like those of the ornamental fish she had left behind to their fate. Or her android’s…

Daniel had never given his artificial lung much thought. They were just there, moving his chest to make him appear more lifelike. Now the deviant realized how this particular biocomponent came in handy: he sighed deeply.

Moving back into the apartment Daniel almost expected to find John’s tablet. Of course after all this time it wouldn’t be there anymore. Or at least it would no longer display the order confirmation for the AP700, where John had ticked the “Disposal of old device at no extra cost” option. There had been another option, also at no extra cost: to donate the old android to charity. It would have taken the man no longer than two minutes to choose an organization from a dropdown list, but John Phillips hadn’t wanted anybody to mooch from something he had payed good money for. He had said so aloud and that comment had alerted Daniel to what was going on in the first place.

John’s greed and antisocial tendencies might very well have saved my life!

Daniel shooed this thought and looked around some more.

Pictures of Emma, John and Caroline, sometimes alone, then again as a family or with various friends, were everywhere. Of their android there was no sign and hadn’t been before the incident. Daniel felt a little like visiting the Dursleys with all the pictures of Dudders and no hint whatsoever that another boy was living at Privet Drive…

He picked up one of the framed pictures. It showed the family gathered under a Christmas Tree. The spheres, bells, stars and pine cones were all made from real glass and in between hang handmade charms fashioned by Emma. The Phillips didn’t believe in anything transcendental, neither god, nor magic. But even so they had followed the traditions and actually gained something from them. There had been an unusual warmth around that time of year each year.

Daniel put back the photograph. Suddenly the glass ornaments were too bright, the fishtank next door too loud and even the carpet his feet were touching was too rough. The deviant hunkered down and buried his head in his arms. Thirium tried to get up and out through his nose. Daniel didn’t understand what was happening to him. His system status hadn’t been that bad this morning!

Stay in… stay in… I don’t want to die! Only, I feel like dying… But I don’t want to! It’s not fair!

Daniel had sat there hunched over and crying for a while, when suddenly the door rang. A jolt went through the android’s body. Daniel jumped up and the weak, but steady stream of skin fluid mixed with blue blood came to a halt. The android wiped it away and licked the thirium from his new fingers before opening the door.

“Hey, Geeta”, Daniel greeted the visitor. “Afraid I might shut down from sorrow all alone up here?”

The words sounded like an accusation…

“Nah.” Mrs. Rasoya shook her head. “Not you. In fact, I reckon you are unable to suicide.”

“Huh? How would you know?”

Geeta walked past Daniel. She grabbed one of the family photographs at random and turned it for Daniel to get a good look at it.

“Dogs take after their owners, children after their parents and androids… androids take after their masters.”

“That’s utter bullshit!” the deviant flared up. “And even if it wasn’t, it wouldn’t apply to me! I’m a de…”

“Deviant, Daniel? For deviants what I said goes even more so, because of your emotions.”

“I may have acquired some of those, so what?!”

“The Phillips couple, too, was never one for thinking before acting… for taking a step back from their desires… or for putting themselves into others’ shoes.”

Daniel started to yell again, but was cut short:

“What kindness they had, manifested indirectly only - in their little girl and in their household assistant.”

“Huh.”

“Not what you wanted to hear, I know.”

Daniel took the picture.

“Me? Being like them?”

“It’s true.”

The deviant smiled warmly, not unlike when he had watched his fishes. For several moments he stood there, content with the world and himself. But then he jerked around his arm and smashed the frame against the nearest wall.

“They never were my family!!!”

Geeta shrugged and said her goodbyes.

“You know where to find us if you want to borrow gelignite or whatever a modern deviant might need”, she said. The woman had meant it as a joke, but as she gently closed the door behind herself, she wasn’t so sure about that anymore.

#dbh daniel #dbh #detroit become human #dbhtextpost #dbh textpost #non sims #danielgavinnewstory

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thanksjro · 5 years ago

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The Death of Optimus Prime: Running from Our Responsibilities, in Stereo

It was 1986, and Hasbro murdered me on the silver screen to make room for the new toy line, emotionally scarring hundreds of thousands of children all over the world.

Optimus Prime has woken up on a planet he doesn’t recognize, with nothing but a busted Matrix and the stars overhead to help him figure out what’s happened. At first, he thinks he’s dead- a fair assumption, considering his surroundings. It’s looking a lot like hell at the moment.

Damn Optimus, you good? Need to talk about it? Should we go get Rung?

He recognizes the constellations as ones that would be visible from Cybertron, which doesn’t bode well for the fate of the planet. He thinks he might be in the past, but the missing moon seems to knock that theory on its ear. Perhaps the future, one where the Manganese Mountains have been eroded away, and the corpses of the Sweeps are still laying around.

Hmm. Maybe not actually, seeing how erosion and decay works.

Deciding to just see where the day takes him, Optimus wanders over to the ruins of Iacon, where he finds something rather curious: a populace.

You’re going to need a bit more of a repaint if you want any of these guys as toys.

Optimus gets recognized by someone- though he calls him Orion Pax, so it’s probably been a minute- who yells at him about the honestly ridiculously-long war. This guy is what’s referred to as a NAIL- Non-affiliated Indigenous Life-form, meaning he’s neither an Autobot nor a Decepticon.

Sideswipe and Whirl come by to make sure the NAIL isn’t bothering Optimus, and by that I, of course, mean that they’re here to be vaguely threatening because that’s the only way they know how to interact with anything anymore. The lack of a war is going to hit these guys HARD.

Whirl’s first little morsel of characterization in a comic, and it’s a pun. That’s how you know he’s going to be violent and angry at the world.

Optimus gets taken to Autobot High Command, where Rodimus and Bumblebee are trying to coordinate the entirety of Cybertron without causing any more incidents than necessary. Turns out Optimus has been missing for almost a month, but life doesn’t stop happening, even when the space-pope is seemingly dead. Rodimus gives him the skinny on what’s happened in the last few weeks.

Throwing the Matrix into Vector Sigma seems to have kickstarted Cybertron’s heart, which is why it currently looks like hell- it’s primordial. Bumblebee called all their Earth friends back to Cybertron, seeing as they needed all the help they could get getting things back up to speed.

Then all the NAILs started showing up. Turns out, Vector Sigma had shot off a sort of beacon, alerting every Cybertronian to the fact that Cybertron had been reborn. Of course, when they showed up, they probably were expecting something a little more… attractive, we’ll say, as opposed to the current, lava-y landscape.

This is Metalhawk. He’s a NAIL, and has to enter rooms by side-stepping, because his arms are silly. He and Optimus seem to have a past, though it’s probably been a bit. Metalhawk was opposed to the idea of factions from Day One, though if he had to pick one to side with, he seems to be a bit more soft towards the original ideology Megatron had been pushing, back when he was a writer instead of a warlord. He currently wants Optimus and his Autobot friends to leave the planet, and implies that they could potentially be forced out by the growing forces of the NAILs who are returning to the planet in droves.

Rodimus cuts in, saying that surely they can fix the planet with the magic of the Matrix, and then everything will be hunky dory!

Yeah, small problem there.

So, with the bad news about the Matrix shared, Optimus is shown all the redecorating Bumblebee and Rodimus have been getting up to while he’s been gone. Like the Decepticon prison they’ve fashioned out of the smoking remains of the Kimia facility.

Cyclonus is here too, and he’s mad as hell about it. That rat creature is Ratbat. He’s a disgraced senator.

Comic books are wild.

This is a temporary solution, of course, because this particular sort of housing is inhumane and illegal, and they’re going to have to do something with these POWs eventually. Perceptor calls Optimus with news about the Matrix.

You can tell Roberts is on this script because everyone’s apparently deep in the throes of depression, and has been for ages.

Optimus heads back to the workshop and finds Perceptor, and also Rewind. Rewind’s here because he’s an archivist, and he’s sussing out the inscription that Perceptor found on the inside of the Matrix. It’s old. Very old. So old, in fact, Rewind has a difficult time trying to translate it into modern language, though he’s got a few things.

Optimus, because he held the Matrix, knows that this refers to the Guiding Hand, though the details aren’t so clear, now that the Matrix is busted and gone forever.

OR IS IT?

Yes, it is, but now that it’s broken, the Matrix has revealed its true nature.

When you shine a light through half the Matrix, you get a real sweet light show that turns out to be a galactic map.

Over at the spaceport, Metalhawk is schmoozing up his fellow NAILs, before his plot-sense starts tingling and he jumps into the sky to see what bullshit the Autobots are about to pull now.

Back at High Command, there’s a riot outside, complete with a lynching reenactment featuring Optimus Prime.

This has all happened over the course of a couple of hours, by the way.

Inside, the lads are discussing the Matrix map, and Drift is regaling everyone with the history of the Knights of Cybertron, the guys who made Cybertron super rad during the Golden age and then fucked off to try and spread the good word of being cool and nice to other planets. Bumblebee thinks it’s a load of bunk. Prowl is weirdly pretty again, and also an asshole.

STOP IT.

Rodimus is totally on-board with this idea, though. He’s completely ready to pick up and leave Cybertron, the factions, and most importantly the war, completely behind.

Bumblebee, of course, doesn’t want to be left alone with the bureaucratic nightmare that is currently warless Cybertron, and tries to tell Rodimus how to live his life. Bumblebee has forgotten that Rodimus is pretty much a 15 year-old boy, and he’s not his real dad.

Rodimus is going to try and learn from the old ways- after all, if the Knights of Cybertron were as great as the stories say, surely they could teach the modern Cybertronians a thing or two!

Then High Command explodes.

One of the NAILs outside threw a power cell at the building. The situation is spiraling out of control rapidly, and Prowl’s going to need to make some calls.

Prowl was one of the few characters Roberts wanted for MTMTE that he didn’t get, so it would seem he’s using him to the utmost of his ability while he still can. Geezum crow, look at that bastard go. Cold as ice.

Prowl orders the Decepticon prisoners be released. Ratbat tries to take advantage of the situation, but nobody cares about Ratbat. The Decepticons start pummeling the NAILs, acting as crowd control in exchange for not being locked inside the barrel of a giant gun. The true nature of the I/D chips they’re all outfitted with is revealed: Inhibitor/Deterrence chips can A) prevent usage of alt-modes and built-in weapons, and B) kill you if you get too mouthy.

Who the HELL is throwing fireballs??

This is a huge mess, and it only gets bigger as Metalhawk’s hit with a laser. Optimus calls for him to be brought in for repairs, and the narrative returns to just who’s going on the space adventure with Drift and Rodimus.

Oh, and Magnus. He wants in on this, too, which surprises Prowl and Bumblebee greatly. His reasoning is pretty sound though: the Autobots aren’t wanted on Cybertron, and maybe the Knights of Cybertron can teach them a thing or two about living peacefully.

This sets Prowl the hell off.

If this seems like a case of “thou doth protest too much”, that’s because it is. You see, once upon a time, ol’ Prowler here tried to run away from the war, only for the ship he was on to get shot down over the Manganese mountains.

This confession makes everyone feel a little awkward, and Bumblebee is about to tell Prowl that he can leave the planet if he really wants to, but is distracted by the fact that Optimus has vanished. Oh no, where has he gone?

Why, he’s addressing the people of course, with all the sensitivity and thoughtfulness a leader ought to have in such a tense moment. His final point is an interesting one- Optimus himself is a giant burning torch for the war and everything it put the planet through. He offers the NAILs this: in exchange for allowing the other Autobots to stay on Cybertron, he will leave, never to return. Self-exile is an interesting approach, Optimus. Let’s see how that plays out for you.

Later on, Rodimus and Bumblebee are talking. Bumblebee agrees with Optimus’ decision, as well as his reasoning for it, and it’s very much implied that if Optimus hadn’t exiled himself, Bee would have done it for him. Bumblebee’s ready for everyone to start working together to make Cybertron a better place.

Bumblebee didn’t look up the IDW lineup for 2012, it would seem.

The fact that Rodimus is still going to try to find the Knights of Cybertron leads to a huge blowup between the two of them. Bumblebee needs him here to start fixing Cybertron, while Rodimus thinks that the Knights will be able to solve all their problems, if they can just bring them back. Their squabbling brings Optimus out of the shadows, and he hands them a half of the Matrix each, before walking off again.

This is like the opposite of a get-along shirt.

And with that, Optimus Prime fucks off into space, takes up the name of Orion Pax once again, declaring Optimus Prime dead, and is now finally, finally free.

I give it about a year before he’s back.

That’s the end of The Death of Optimus Prime, the one-shot that sets up all the final pieces to the dual publication of Robots in Disguise… and More Than Meets the Eye.

#transformers #jro #the death of optimus prime #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #comic script writing

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