#that any act of kindness you do backfires and gets twisted into something horrible

[the-girl-with-too-many-ideas]

[wh6res]

“𝑰’𝑴 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑳𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻, 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑶𝑵𝑳𝒀 𝑺𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑶𝑼𝑹.”

part of the 21 ways to kill your lover collab hosted by the lovely miss solange @du0tine

pairing. entity! xdj & f! reader | word count. 5.4k

synopsis. he wasn’t a god, he wasn’t a devil, and fuck, he’s surely not an angel, but he will be your saviour and your light ‘till kingdome come.

warnings. tread with caution. yandere/possesive themes, religious themes, violence, mentions of gore, swearing, mentions of ptsd, mentions of physical abuse, a lot of character deaths, manipulation, stalking, and implications of suicide

disclaimer. i do not condone whatever tf i wrote in this nor does it reflect my beliefs or values or morals and such. it is all pure fiction and i also dont think xiaojun from wayv would act like this in real life.

a soul’s vulnerability gives him strength. he has scourged far and wide and has yet to encounter a soul as interesting as yours. he never thought a heart filled with hatred and a fragile mentality can be such a sweet combination. xiaojun would be stupid not to latch his greedy talons onto you.

he hides in the darkest corners of your room at night, unseen and unheard, just watching over you like a predator to his poor unsuspecting gazelle before diving into the anticipated chase. 

he moves in with you into the cheap apartment you got for yourself here in the big city—which he thinks is an awful move because of how lonely it’ll be. but hey, it wasn’t anyone’s fault that you got chased out of your own home by your stepdad, your very own biological mom too scared to say a peep of defense to your name. 

your downfalls became xiaojun’s highlights. 

he would’ve felt sorry for you after finding out about that abusive old man. ugh, he scowls. your stepdad makes the entity’s blood boil and he doesn’t even have blood to begin with. the same man who holds the bible in his left hand when he preaches sermons for the people, is the same hand he uses to hit you across the face. 

the same hand he uses to pull at your hair. the same hand he uses to punch your gut. the same hand he uses to shove your mom down when she tries interfering. 

xiaojun may hate men of god but above all, he absolutely detests the kind your old man is—a faker, who thinks he can get away with the shit mess he’s making. xiaojun would never take that preacher’s murky soul even if he offered it to the entity voluntarily. fake. fake. fake. fake. fake. xiaojun should’ve killed him. xiaojun should’ve slit his throat. xiaojun should’ve torn his eyes out—

ah, ah, ah.

he can’t afford to make you any less vulnerable than you already are, now, can he? after all, he can be anything you want but he’s no angel. 

so he watched from the sidelines. 

watched you cry. watched you bleed. watched your scars form. watched the hate and resentment you have for your own family fester in your heart until it grew to a size you can’t hide within yourself anymore. 

and then you left home. 

xiaojun has to admit, for a second, maybe leaving home will make your soul unworthy, will break the mold he’s already had of you and will completely spoil his well-thought out plans.

so really, he can only scoff when he watches you walk around the apartment wearing that pretty dress on a sunday morning, darting around with calculated steps to shove everything inside your bag to go to church. the dress hangs nicely against your skin but he’d rather you stay and wear nothing. 

maybe you’d finally find contentment and happiness in this place, in this city, on your own. soaring high without a cage, without someone to hold you back—these things fill his thoughts like a plague until you come barging back into the door 30 minutes later. 

he’s been watching you long enough to know church service wouldn’t end for another 30 minutes or so. xiaojun’s eyebrows quirk up. why would his fragile little gazelle come back oh so early? but his question is immediately answered when he detects your shaky breaths and the unshed tears in your glistening eyes

you’re suffering the post-traumatic effects your shit stepdad has caused. seeing another preacher must’ve been a trigger, he thinks, eyeing you with a look on his face. xiaojun felt a little stupid. of course, swimming to the surface will be tough with all that trauma anchoring you down.

it’ll be tough, indeed… so why not sink you even deeper?

it didn’t take much energy for him to start manipulating your dreams. every nap, every deep sleep, he’d replay all the horrible things your stepdad has done to you and he realizes how dreams depicted from his perspective took a larger toll on you versus the ones from your own point of view—witnessing for yourself how weak and helpless you had been seemed to chip away bigger parts of you, he notices. your terrified screams when waking up in cold sweat getting louder and louder with every passing nightmare.

he pushed, and pushed, and pushed until you were standing right at the edge of sanity. until you start questioning your own self-worth and judgment, the invisible chains of the trauma too strong to break. until your radiant skin looked deathly, with gaunt cheeks and white lips. until you developed a fear of sleeping because no, you don’t want to witness those horrors again. no. no. no. no, please don’t hit me—

xiaojun can’t help but admire his handiwork but no, he doesn’t have time for that! 

the next time you fell asleep you had been desperately holding onto your 5th bottle of gatorade like it was a torch breaking through the darkness. you’ve intake so much of the energy drink that your body has grown used to it. you would’ve switched to caffeine, but from how much you drank it prior to the energy drinks, your blood is practically coffee at this point. 

“you’re living in my house now, young lady! i’d like to see some respect from your or i’ll fucking beat it into you!”

“stop! please. hit me instead, hit me!” 

“this is all your fault, bitch! how can you raise one daughter wrong? no wonder your husband left you!”

murky and black, you can’t even see the bottom at this point. it keeps pulling you down, and down, and down, until you couldn’t breathe. until your head feels light. until your heart beats erratically within your ribcage as you fought to the surface. 

with all the negative emotions surging through you in thunderous waves, it’s a wonder how no other lonesome, starving entity has latched onto you like xiaojun. although realistically, he was here first, as if he’ll let any other being like him go near you.

it took a greater amount of energy to twist and manipulate the plotline of certain events in a dream. if xiaojun hadn’t grown strong from all your negativity, he’d never be able to do it. 

he can never forget the day he first appeared to you in a dream. to have you cling onto him as you willingly took his hand—not that he was caught by surprise, anyway. every second of every hour of every day xiaojun spent plotting your demise has led to this fruitful day of “meeting” you for the first time. 

“i’m right here,” he said, shaking fingers tracing over your cheeks. a soft caress you have never experienced. 

the man in your dreams is someone you’ve never met before—you’re positive that you haven’t because you’d never forget a face as handsome as his. he appears like an angel casted over divine light, with a soft smile that can cure the plague as he offers his hands for you to take. it was beautiful, how your nightmares turned into dreams the moment the mysterious man arrived. 

how’d you ever know, that the hand you grabbed is the wolf in sheep’s clothing?

it’s sad really, how you’ve only managed to escape one horror only to jump into the next but xiaojun can’t find it in himself to feel bad. well, maybe a little, it’s a fleeting thought. something that disappeared as quickly as it had passed by.

it was only after a few weeks of constantly appearing in your dreams did his plan start to backfire. the change in your behavior isn’t subtle, either, and it angered him all the more. he didn’t see this coming, not even from lightyears away.

simple to say you’ve grown a little more… how can xiaojun put this into words? well, a little more outgoing. adventurous. meeting new people and going to new places and experiencing new things. he can see everything as clear as day—you were healing from your past, leaving the dark chapters in your life to write newer and brighter ones that revolved on having actual healthy relationships for once. 

his seething anger of his failed plans had made all the windows in your apartment burst into thousand little pieces. if you had fine china dishes displayed on your kitchen cabinets he would’ve broken those too. how can you go against him like this? look at you all happy and smiley even as the room turned ice cold because of xiaojun’s suffocating presence. you never even thought once about it—how naive. 

tormenting you through dreams isn’t working anymore. xiaojun has to up his game if he wants to break you down and revert you back to that paranoid, sensitive, and frail self that couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, and couldn’t talk to any other human being without feeling the ghost of your abusive step-father’s hands against your skin. 

who says he can only control you through mind games alone? after he’s done what needs to be done, grief and self-pity will go hand in hand. a combination so cruel and heavy on your shoulders that xiaojun can already savor the metallic tangy taste of victory. 

“no! yeji—!”

xiaojun watches unblinking when he makes one of your new friends walk out the sidewalk and right into an overspeeding car. 

tires skidding across the pavement, the breaks not working, glass shattering, bones cracking against the force of the hit—dead, right on the fucking spot.

he’s never heard you scream that loud and he shudders in pleasure as the vibrations of your shrill voice courses through his veins. 

he missed this, your complete and utter misery. 

but he wasn’t done yet. 

“don’t you think it’s a ‘lil chilly in here?” ryujin asks, looking over to your side before drinking the hot chocolate she prepared for both of you. 

grieving together with a friend can be good, hence why you’re now in her apartment a month later after yeji’s funeral. 

you answer after taking a sip. “no, not really.” 

xiaojun grins, giddy and a skip in his step while making his way towards you as he side-eyes your friend, who religiously drank her hot chocolate all the while bundling up next to you so you both can watch the movie together playing on the laptop. 

this one, well, he particularly doesn’t like this one. 

if your other friend was meant to be a casualty, a death borne from not one smidge of personal vendetta, this one, this ryujin is different. heck, he even remembers her fucking name.

no, no, no. xiaojun can feel his skin crawl as ryujin cuddles intimately closer as she stares at you from her peripheral, feeling out whether you’d react or not as she sneaks an arm around your waist. his anger turns a fever pitch, seeing you with someone else driving him up the wall. you were meant to be his sad and hopeless little gazelle and his alone.

xiaojun hoped the poison travels fast or so help him he’ll fucking rip her off of you—and he would’ve, when he saw you and ryujin slowly leaning into one another, head angled and obviously going in for a kiss. he would’ve, when one of ryujin’s hands come up to cup your face. he would’ve… until the poison reached its destination in her body, right when your lips were about to touch. 

ryujin’s lungs seized, breathing becoming an agent to her demise as the oxygen from her lungs disappear into nothingness. the last thing she saw is your horrified face, tears streaming. she swore you were shouting something, probably her name, but it’s overpowered by the incessant ring in her ears.

when her mouth foamed and she laid limp on the couch right next to you, you knew ryujin would never wake again to give you that kiss. 

xiaojun steps back to admire the havoc he wreaked. two of your friends dead, that should be enough to incapacitate you—whether it be permanent or not, he just wants to see you drown in misery. 

and as he slowly dissipates into the void, there’s a little smile on his face as he stares you down, burning the image of your histeria in his head, the echoes of your woeful cries music to his ears. 

you never dared step foot out of your apartment. 

groceries were delivered to your door, trash is slowly but surely building up, and the place was a whole mess. the entity haunting you has never seen you this… shattered, even when you left home. it was like your brain has stopped working and your body turned into nothing more but a cusp of who you used to be. 

it’s scary looking in the mirror and not recognizing the reflection—so, you painted all of them black. it was an in the heat of a moment kind of thing that took place the moment you came home from the police station, on the exact day she passed away before your eyes. 

xiaojun just has to “misplace” a few pints of paint you had used from when you renovated the apartment in the past, putting the cans where you can easily see them and think that the idea belonged to you when in reality, it’s the entity that put the idea in your head. 

there was a blanket over your shoulder when you came back from the station. it wasn’t yours, they gave it to you while you sat opposite to a stoic detective in a cold interrogation room, yet you made no move to shrug it off even after arriving at your apartment, fingers clutching the fabric like a lifeline and refusing to believe whatever that had transpired in ryujin’s apartment. 

eyes unseeing, stumbling with your steps, back hunched with the curse of the universe weighing down on your back—xiaojun couldn’t’ve been more proud of what he had done.

you were spiraling out of control. a self-destructive cycle you cannot seem to fight your way out of as your nightmares came back to haunt you. the tall waves of anxiety and paranoia drowning and pushing you under the surface. 

for once you don’t fight the current, you just let it pull you under. 

every time you close your eyes, you can hear the deafening screech of rubber tires against concrete before the car hits yeji. can vividly see the foams of the poison coming out of ryujin’s mouth as if it was caught on tape and is now playing on loop. 

your other friends have donned you as bad luck, cursed to have a fucked up life and will fuck up other people’s lives too if they get even as close as an arm length to you. too scared to lose any more people, you decided to completely push everyone away and had completely shut yourself out from the world beyond the four corners of your apartment. 

it’s like your trauma from before has come crawling back to you, only now, he brings himself a little friend called guilt. 

what are the odds that your two friends died after the other when the person they’ve each last spent time with was you? even the police found it too much a coincidence. if it wasn’t for the cctv cams in the corners of ryujin’s apartment, you’d be facing trial for a murder you didn’t commit. 

you eye the usb stuck in one of your laptop’s ports. it’s black, with an srj poisoning case written in red ink on the small patch of masking tape pasted onto the back of the plastic. 

after being stuck in an interrogation room for the last two hours, you had sneakily swiped it out of the detective's desk on your way out of the station. you remembered it was the usb with a copy of ryujin’s cctv cams, some underling busting into the interrogation room while in the middle of your questioning, holding the tiny usb between his fingers. 

your stomach churned when the detective looked at you spitefully, as if he couldn’t fucking care less of the evidence presented to him in a silver platter and would thoroughly take pleasure in throwing you in jail himself, guilty or not. the last look he shot you still sends shivers down your spine, the sharpness in his gaze as he regarded you. “you killed them. i know you did.”

a week of self-induced isolation later and you start to believe in it yourself. 

in the middle of screaming your lungs out and cursing the gods above for your sorry excuse of a life, you had thrown the usb somewhere in the apartment. not that you bothered to look for it right after, you were too busy wallowing in self pity before passing out on the living room floor. when you wake up, you’ve forgotten all about it. 

so it was interesting, seeing the usb again after days and days of wallowing in grief. you had fallen off the couch while in the middle of a slumber and you spotted the small piece of tech lying underneath it with the other empty coke cans. 

eyeing the laptop on the coffee table, you remember you haven’t taken a look at the evidence yourself—the detective had given you the stink eye when you tried shuffling closer to peep a look. carelessly, you shove all other objects off the table to pull the laptop closer. you plant yourself on the ground cross-legged, not batting an eyelash even when you feel the crumbs of chips against your skin. 

you boot the laptop on, thankful you’ve yet to forget its password, and plugged the usb in again. it was simple to navigate, to say the least, the folder popping up in a matter of seconds. you thought it stored a whole collection of her cctv footages but alas, it didn’t, saving you the time and energy scourging through unwanted boring files. 

hands shaking, you clicked on the video. 

and it was as if you’re thrown back into that event in your life that has now become a distant memory. the hug ryujin gave you when she opened the door, her words of comfort when you opened up about your deteriorating mental health after your friend passed away, and finally, the warm feel of the mug against the palm of your hand. 

wait a minute. 

you perk up from your seat, groaning aloud when your knee hits the underside of the coffee table at your haste, fingers darting around to press the back 10 seconds button. the sweat starts forming in your forehead and palms, making your hand feel clammy and disgusting but it was the last of your worries. 

did you see that correctly?

the quality is a bit low and the camera angle isn’t optimal. you can only see ryujin’s side profile but her glassy eyes are unmistakable and her actions look robotic at best. 

this is after she made your hot cocoa and had delivered it to your shivering, sniffling form on the couch, all bundled up snug and cozy in the blanket she provided. you remember ryujin winking as she walked back towards her kitchen after you thanked her. 

the way she poured poison in her own mug ruled her case as suicice. the evidence is right there in your face but the unease still sits heavy on your stomach and confusion clouds your brain like cannabis. 

this doesn’t make any sense. 

you knew her, ryujin. she’s never one to succumb to her negative emotions, always facing her problems with head held high. her overall mindset, in general, made her the last person you’d think would ever commit suicide. you’ve replayed the video a thousand times by now, still unable to wrap your head around the fact that she killed herself. 

having the sudden urge for another bottle of gatorade, you pressed the pause button as you try hauling yourself up with your arms. 

you pause. pushing your face closer to the laptop screen, rubbing at your eyes incredulously as you eye the corner of her kitchen. 

ryujin’s apartment isn’t that luxurious, nor is it too rundown, but there can be little exceptions here and there. 

like the cheap LED bulbs attached rather messily onto her ceiling, one of the six sources of light flickering on and off. you remember how many times you’ve told her to get it fixed yet she never really paid you any heed.

with shaking fingers, you replayed it one more time, hoping on everything you believe in that it wasn’t what it looks like. this can’t be it—how is that possible—

it’s him, the man who has appeared like an angel in your dream to sweep you away from evil. but standing in the corner, under the flickering lights of your friend’s kitchen, he looked anything but an angelic. 

your mind is going haywire, your body shook in confusion, and sweat started dribbling down your neck. you would’ve thought you made a mistake because how is this even possible? the angelic man in your dreams isn’t real—he can’t be real, he can’t appear like this when you aren’t even sleeping because he’s not real!

he can’t… right?

he doesn’t look too harmless, what with his hands crossed and leisurely leaning against the wall. but one look at his eyes and you know you’re wrong. even through the shit quality of the cctv footage you can still feel the fury and the absolute hate his eyes held as he stared her down menacingly, unblinking.

stared her down as she made her own cocoa, as she hunches down to open the sink cabinets to get that pesky rat poison, as she poured it on her mug, as she swirls the spoon around to mix the deadly concoction all together in a hauntingly robotic way that looked too much like ryujin was being told what to do.

and as you let the video play the rest of its content and felt like the tragedy was unfolding right before your very eyes again—you couldn’t breathe, panic gripping onto you like a vice, the sharp talons of fear sinking deep under your skin. 

you don’t register the coffee table toppling over in your haste to stand up. desperately putting a distance between you and the laptop as you turned and stumbled towards the hallway leading to your bedroom. 

you stop, pathetically landing on your knees before the open archway. if you hadn’t been shaking in fear before, then you surely were now. 

he’s here—can you even call it a he?

the man stands at the end of the hallway. in that similar, non-threatening stature with his arms crossed and body leaning against the wall. 

but the mischief in his eyes is enough of a warning. 

he’s come for you. 

he’s come to finish the job. 

“finally figured it out?”

you screamed, throwing the closest thing you can at him as you shuffle someplace else in your apartment. his laugh sounded pleasant in the ear when you were off in dreamland, but now? it sounded like nails grating against a chalkboard. 

your legs eventually led you to the front door. appearances be damned. you weren’t even wearing a bra and you haven’t showered for days but fuck no you’re not going to stay here with that—that—that monster!

“baby, don’t leave! the fun hasn’t even started yet!”

you grab the doorknob and twist, practically throwing yourself out into the hallway, eyes frantic as you stumble and land face first against—

sticky. the floor’s sticky and there was a smell you can’t seem to pinpoint. it’s tangy, metallic, and you can almost taste the scent yourself in your tongue and when you look down—you want to throw up. 

lying next to each other in pools of their own blood, lies yeji and ryujin side by side, faces towards each other. their eyes hauntingly empty and unseeing as they stared up at you. 

you shrieked, voice scratching against your dry throat as you threw yourself back into your apartment, the door slamming shut in itself. you didn’t care if there’s now a huge mess of blood staining the carpets on the foyer. you curl in on yourself, hair sticking to your face as you covered your ears and shut your eyes. 

“oh, my love…”

you felt his presence before you can hear him. 

a flashback plays in your head—hot chocolate, soft blankets, and a friend who you loved with all your heart. “don’t you think it’s a little chilly in here?"

you answered. “no, not really?”

the tears start streaming like waterfalls, mixing with the blood and sweat already caked in your face. ryujin knew, she felt it back at her apartment yet you disregarded her completely.

“it’s not your fault,” the entity’s hands are ice cold when he gently pulls at your wrist. “everything is as it should be. now, open your eyes. there’s nothing to be afraid of. i’m not going to hurt you.”

stubbornly, you shook your head as you squeezed your lids even tighter, refusing to look at the monster dead in the eye.

“don’t be like that, my love. if i wanted to hurt you, i would’ve done it a long time ago.”

you don’t listen, hunching and curling your knees even more against your torso as you try to block out his voice. it’s unfair how gentle it sounded but your blood ran cold when you realize this is how he got ryujin to poison herself, this is how he got yeji to walk in front of a speeding car—

“hail mary, full—full of grace,” you pray under your breath, shaking like a leaf. “the lord… the lord is with thee. blessed art thou among women…”

“you’re praying?” there’s an underlying mocking to e in his voice. “this is fucking hilarious!”

your incessant mumbling partnered with how you rocked your body back and forth, made something snap within xiaojun. he already stated he won’t hurt you! did he break you so much that now you’re unable to hear stuff properly, too?

“holy mary, mo—mother of god, pray for us sinners, now and—and at the hour of our death, amen. hail mary, full of grace…”

“stop.” his body twitches, having the sudden urge to pull all his hair out and burn this fucking building to the ground.

yet you continue. “the lord is with thee, blessed art thou among—among women and blessed is the… the fruit of thy womb, jesus…”

“i said stop, [name]. don’t fucking test me.”

“holy mary, mother of god—pray—pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our—”

you screeched in pain as your forehead comes in contact with a mirror, the sound of it shattering is deafening to the ears. his icy fingers let go of your nape, letting you fall hard to the ground. your ears perk up at the sound of streaming water. 

you weren’t in the foyer anymore, you feel cold tiles instead of the rough texture of the dirty carpet underneath you. eyes fluttering, you slowly pry them open, and the first thing you see is the faulty pipes found underneath your bathroom’s sink. patches of your clothes start getting wet. 

“you think a prayer of all things can stop me? i’m insulted!” you hiss when he grabs your face, hands so cold that it feels like you’re skin is burning off. “i was going to play nice.”

he pulls you towards him, hand encased around your throat. he shoves the open hair dryer into the half-filled bath tub as you feel him vibrate against you. “you don’t know how long i waited, how much energy i needed to appear to you like this.”

it’s with dread you realize that he’s actually giggling.

you whine, eyes feeling like it’ll pop out of their sockets when he squeezed your neck tighter. with a sudden rush of adrenaline, you anchor your wrists against his arm but it proves to be useless when he’s too strong. 

“please,” you wheezed. “i did… i did nothing wrong. let go—please.”

in the corner of your eyes, you stare at him from the mirror, stomach twisting in discomfort when you see him throwing his head back, eyes rolling up after taking a long whiff of your hair. “this—this fear you have, my love, only makes me stronger.”

“nothing… i did nothing wrong—please! please… let, let me go…” you’re starting to feel lightheaded, black spots floating around your vision. 

“nothing? are you sure about that?” 

you cringe when he licks up the tears in your face, toes curling at the sheer disgust you feel. but the words he spews next is far worse than the hand he’s wrapped around your throat. 

“didn’t you left your mom alone with that abusive asshole? didn’t you make yeji walk into that incoming car? didn’t you make ryujin drink that poison?”

he whispers them so softly, so gently that you almost mistook them as proclamations of love. 

“no…” your voice breaks. 

“yes. yes, you did,” he knew you like the back of his hand, knew what to say and how to say them for you to break in his arms. “you killed them, my love. you’re a murderer. you don’t even deserve to be alive after all of the things you’ve done.”

it’s almost pathetic how you shake your head, eyes closed, refusing to acknowledge the truth. 

“that’s… that’s not true…”

“you’re a curse to the people you love, the embodiment of they're suffering. don’t you see it?”

“stop lying!—”

“am i?” he retorts, maneuvering you around to face the mirror. you swore you covered the whole thing with black paint. “just look at yourself.”

oh, how badly he wants to shove your face against the mirror but he mustn't get ahead of himself. 

“did any of your friends even visit you to see how you’re doing?” no, they never did. he smiles like he knows what you’re thinking. “the answer is all before you now, my love. you need to see through the haze and accept it for what it really is. no one loves you. even the god you’re praying to didn’t answer. there’s nothing, no one, left.”

and for the first time since he has you in his tight hold, you stopped fighting. sobs wracking through your body as your shoulders slump and accept defeat. 

xiaojun automatically lets you go, cooing like a lover in your ear as he tucks you into his embrace. “you want this all to stop, don’t you? someone to save you?”

you nodded, unable to look at him as his hand came up to wipe away your tears. no one has ever done that for you in months ever since yeji and ryujin died.

“i’m here,” xiaojun says, running fingers through your hair comfortingly. “i’m your light, your only saviour. you want that, right, my love?” choice is a mere illusion but he likes keeping up with formalities. 

you fail to notice the steps he took towards the now overflowing bathtub, too lost in the new highs and lows of emotions you feel. 

“yes.”

it only took seconds to push you into the tub. its water buzzing with a live electric current brought by the hair dryer he dropped only minutes ago.

the effect is instantaneous. he watches your muscle spasm, your skin growing darker as the live water fries your body alive. quickly, xiaojun reaches down to lift your head out the water, not wanting to ruin your pretty face.

the last thing you feel is xiaojun’s cold lips pressing against your own, the gentle caress as he wiped your tears away… and the electricity finally passing through your heart. 

when the entity pulls away from your dead body, he only whispers three things—“mine, at last.”

[deathvalleyqueen]

OC Mannerisms (part 2)

because...well now I have more OCs... and @nightwingshero​ has specifically requested the boys... Here we go...

Mary Jane’s are here BTW

Michael “Mac” MacKenna -

How they smile

Mac doesn’t smile often, it has to be something either that makes him genuinely happy (which is rare) or something that is actually highly amusing to him. But on said rare and mythical occasion that Mac smiles it’s a very broad and infectious smile, sometimes accompanied by a laugh or snarky chuckle. He has kind of a crooked smirk that he does as well when he finds something slightly amusing but it doesn’t warrant an actual full on smile. 

What their “tell” is for lying

The MacKenna family moto should be “We lie often and well” , Mac has no real obvious tell for lying because at any given time he is trying to maintain at least three to four different lies all at once...even with his own family. The only time there is anything remotely close to a tell when he does lie is when he is found out or someone is close to the truth he is trying to hide (usually Mary Jane) he will shift his weight and look away, almost like a young child would, and quickly try to change the subject which only rarely actually works. 

Posture

For the most part he appears to be mostly a relaxed type of guy in spite of his stint in the military. Very confident and sure of the fact that he could physically take just about anyone if he had to so he worries very little about trying to prove what a big man he is. He is a big guy, standing just over six foot and a pretty fit guy, he is an imposing figure and knows it. There is a certain amount of arrogance in the way he carries himself, shoulders back, head high. Little makes him afraid. When he sits, he man spreads a bit, usually draping his arm over the back of couch and taking a good amount of space because he really only lets few people close to him. 

Volume of speech, if they’re verbal

Mac is not a loud guy as a rule, actually fairly soft spoken... though he swears just about every other word out of his mouth. His tone is tone is usually pretty even in conversation, if you start to even hear that change you need to just run and hide. If he yells, it is a startling thing to witness because if he has to raise his voice that loud, it’s a serious situation. Overall Mac is not a huge talker, one of the few people who can get anything out of him is Mary Jane because she will just poke at him till he finally tells her what she wants to know. 

Nervous tics

Cracks his knuckles... this is habit he has had since childhood. It drove his mother up a wall and he started doing it more to purposefully annoy her but it became something that became second nature. He is starting to have problems with his hands as he is getting older because of this and had tried to stop himself but it’s something he can’t seem to shake. He is also a bit of a chain smoker, particularly if he is stressed out and he often uses going out for a smoke as a way to avoid a situation that he wants to avoid. 

How much eye contact do they make

Not as much as you would think, he tends to watch the room. Even when he talking to someone. It’s only when is speaking on something he considers important that he will look someone in the eye. He finds it very difficult to look people in the eye as it feels like they will see all his secrets so he avoids it when he can. 

In a group conversation, how close do they stand to others? Are they off to the side just listening and occasionally speaking or are they right next to people?

Mac is always the one off watching the group and rarely adding things to the conversation unless someone specifically addresses him by name. He likes to be more of the watch, assess the situation and listen person because eventually in most of the situation he finds himself in these type of group conversations, Mary Jane will come to him after and ask his opinion on what he saw. He watches body langue and listens to peoples tones to be able to get a good read on them and their intentions. 

When standing, what do they do with their hands? Talk with their hands, cross their arms, put hands in pockets, prop up against the wall, etc

Almost always stands with is his arms crossed in front of him in a defensive stance. Though he will lean on the wall on occasion if he is having a causal conversation with one of his siblings. He tries to appear very much a “presence” when standing, because a lot of of the time he will be standing behind MJ at events, almost like her body guard so he wants really put on the “don’t mess with” me vibe. 

The sound of their footsteps

Mac is a big dude, who usually is wearing combat boots or work boots so he isn’t what you call “light on his feet” you can you usually hear him coming, which is usually his aim. He is not the sneak up on you and get you type of guy, Mac wants you to know he is coming and he wants you to be afraid. 

Nonverbal greetings: do they wave, nod, hug, glare, punch, high five, something else?

Mac is a head nod guy, like he isn’t the type to shout across the room to greet anyone, even his siblings. For the people he is closest with occasionally he will hug them, mostly MJ, but he does the “bro shoulder clasp” with Sean, John and Bobby. If he doesn’t like you there is a strong chance, he will greet you a with a fist to the face, ask Colin in the later part of the story... 

How do they get others’ attention? Raise hand, clear throat, etc

A single look, it’s not something that even needs a sound, but the Mac stare is legendary and known and you do not ignore that icy glare from those baby blues. Nope, you pay attention to what probably 4 words are going to come out of Mac’s mouth.

How they smile

Sean is a cheeky little shit, good natured, but cheeky little shit nonetheless. So his smile is mischievous, bright but sincere. He is actually a really nice guy, wants to help people and such so his smile appears often and is always warm and welcoming. It’s a very disarming smile as well, kind of like MJ, you wouldn’t expect a guy with as much inner turmoil to have such a cheerful, almost jokester personality... but he does. 

What their “tell” is for lying

Sean is the lone member of the MacKenna’s who is horrible at lying. He just can’t keep a straight face and acts like a child caught by their mother trying to piece together something that could be a lie. Sean was originally pre-Law, this is how he met John, but quickly realized he could never be a good lawyer because he can’t lie to save his life. As Sean says he leaves the spinning of twisted webs to John and Mary Jane, he just handles the money. 

Posture

Sean is a very loose guy, he is never rigid in his posture unless he is worried or getting ready to fight. Most of the time he is the most laid back of the brothers, save Bobby, he tends to slouch a bit too. Something he honestly picked up as a kid when he brothers would big on him for being a skinny little bean pole of a kid, it really messed with his confidence so he began slouching. When he sits he tends to sit in the corner of the couch, leaning against the arm, trying to get the best view of what’s going on in the room. 

Volume of speech, if they’re verbal

Sean is a pretty loud guy when he wants to be, not like his sister, but he knows how to make his opinion heard. In general conversation, he always has this air of sarcasm with everything he says, to the point most people who just meet him think nothing he says is serious at all. Though this often backfires on him when he is trying to be serious. 

Nervous tics

He grids his teeth and locks his jaw, mostly because Sean is only ever truly nervous when he is about to fight. If he is worried, he tends to just be more attentive to whatever situation is causing him concern. Like when he was worried about John and MJ being able to handle having an infant, he pretty much lived with them for a month so he could help out and keep an eye on things. Sean tries so hard to hide his true emotions.  

How much eye contact do they make

Sean makes a good deal of eye contact, he knows in importance of making it appear as if you are an honest and genuine person in business dealings so he has perfected the are of causal not creepy eye contact. He likes to look people in the eyes when he speaking with them as he feels it’s the only way he can get a good read on if they are lying or not. If he is uncomfortable in a situation his eyes will tend to dart around the room during conversation but if he is comfortable he will make full eye contact. 

In a group conversation, how close do they stand to others? Are they off to the side just listening and occasionally speaking or are they right next to people?

Sean is almost always in the middle of the conversation, he is a charming and funny guy that can get along with most people on surface. So he always interjects himself into the center of the conversation in a group setting. Often trying to carry the conversation for those who may be uncomfortable in such a setting. He isn’t not the type of guy to talk your ear off for no reason, he will add what he feels is relevant to what is being discussed and the occasional joke but he will not try and dominate the conversation. 

When standing, what do they do with their hands? Talk with their hands, cross their arms, put hands in pockets, prop up against the wall, etc

Sean tends to stand with his hands in his pockets, playing with change in his pockets or his keys. He is usually standing near whom ever he is talking to occasionally leaning against the door frame or wall just being his chill causal self. 

The sound of their footsteps

Sean is not a guy who is naturally light on his feet, he can be if he wants to be but not without conscious effort. For the most part his footsteps are quick, he is always the one who moves quickly, but not like a cat. Think excited dog with the energy in in the way he moves. He isn’t graceful, nor is he clumsy... honestly... Sean is pretty average.  

Nonverbal greetings: do they wave, nod, hug, glare, punch, high five, something else?

A cheesy grin is almost always his go to greeting with friends and family. He is a pretty friendly guy. With MJ a lot of the time it’s a hug. With his brother’s he could playfully hit them like they did when they would roughhouse when they kids. With John it’s just... the guy nod... you know what I am talking about. The silent greeting guy friends give each other. 

How do they get others’ attention? Raise hand, clear throat, etc

Like MJ, he hates to be ignored, so he will clap his hands, clear his throat honestly even get up in people’s faces if he has to if he really thinks someone isn’t listening to him. It’s one of the few times he will willingly come off more aggressive than he does naturally because dude does not like to be ignored. At all. 

[seth-storm]

Leaving the Pond:

Part One: A Moment in a Millennia

(A Fablehaven AU)

Author’s Note: Hey y’all! I’m working on like 3 different fics at the moment, so sorry it’s taking so long! I’m not dead, I promise! 😂

Hope you enjoy! This is (loosely) based on Brandon Mull’s “Fablehaven” (which is a great series, 10/10 would reccommend).

It was a normal day, sprawling out and melding with the millennia that came before it and the millennia that would surely follow. The pond where Logan resided was cold to most mortals, but if someone had lived in the pond their entire life, it was just a normal temperature. It wasn’t clear or murky, light filtered through the water the higher up you went, and the plants on the floor of the pond swayed gently, the currents acting as their breeze. Logan had lived in the pond his entire life, on the magic preserve called Fablehaven. There, magical creatures of all kinds came to reside, and had lived in relative peace for eons. Relative indeed, seeing as the demons that plagued the preserve were always stirring up trouble and causing some ripple of disturbance or another on the calm surface of Logan’s pond. There was always someone who needed rescuing, always some world ending event going on, some earth shattering problem or another for the mortals above the surface to deal with.

That’s why Logan dedicated himself to the noble sport of his brother naiads: drowning people. To naiads like Logan, it was entertaining, if not hilarious, to take the mortal’s problems away from them in an instant and see time continue to march on. Mortals thought the fate of the world hinged on their existence, that only they could save the earth from complete and utter destruction. It was amusing (to say the least) to remove them from the world and watch the problems fade with time, as all of them inevitably did.

However, the naiads sole purpose was not to drown people, contrary to how other people may have perceived it. In the middle of the pond they lived in resided a small, fragile island on which a shrine to the Fairy Queen stood. The naiads were meant to dissuade unworthy people from approaching the island. Their efforts were often in vain, as anyone insane enough to attempt a journey to the shrine usually had the moxie to get there despite the naiads. Not many people tried anyway, seeing as the Fairy Queen had a nasty habit of turning unworthy trespassers (which had been everyone who had set foot on the island, so far) into dandelion seeds, left to scatter on the wind.

Thus, naiads lived a life of luxury. Protected by the shrine of the most powerful being of light in existence and allowed to do whatever they pleased, naiads lived out their immortality in a dreamlike bliss, hours feeling like years, years feeling like hours. Blessed with otherworldly beauty and a dreamlike personality, the water nymphs people called naiads were perfectly content to waste away their days in bliss, never focusing on a single moment, living every second like it was already a memory. The only way the ignorant bliss would ever end is if a naiad chose to willingly leave the pond. Then, the naiad would “fall” to mortality, doomed to age (albeit slowly) as part of the world they had laughed at since its beginning.

Logan was a naiad with pale skin and water-colored hair that looked like gravity had no hold on it. His eyes were the color of human skin (or powdery sand, if you asked him), which the others often made fun of, seeing it as a connection to the frail creatures plodding along above their watery home. He lived in the pond with four other naiads, each beautiful and cruel in their own ways. There was Virgil, Emile, Remy, and one who kept to himself. It had been eons and Logan still didn’t know his name. Some of the others had taken to calling him “Deceit”, on account that he could coax any mortal into the water without using any force other than his charisma.

Virgil was a pale naiad, who took to smearing paste from the plants in the pond underneath his deep green eyes. He normally didn’t participate in trying to drown people unless the prospects looked promising or it was someone attempting to reach the shrine of the Fairy Queen. The reason for this was he sunburnt more quickly than even Logan, and going near the surface at all caused his skin to look like strawberries for at least a week. Even so, Virgil loved wandering the halls of the treasury the naiads had made to store the bodies and belongings of people they had taken over the years. He seemed to enjoy fiddling with the gadgets of the world above, laughing at the futility of such devices. He had hair the color of the twilight on the pond, a deep purple dotted with black. His fingers and toes were connected by nearly invisible webs, and he was the tallest of the naiads (if they ever cared to stand up, that is).

Emile was a bubbly naiad with hair the color of the pastel sunset on the water, watery and deep eyes, and wet sand colored skin. His hair was chin length and curly, his face dotted with freckles. He was the most social of the naiads, and the one who found it most amusing to drown humans. He saw them as a way to have bonding time with the other naiads, and as such personally thanked each and every human they drowned together. The thanks probably didn’t mean too much to the human, but Emile thought it was important. He was always eager to start a conversation with one of the others, who usually entertained him for the sole purpose of having something to do. Emile was a peculiarity in that he seemed to cherish and remember each and every conversation he had with another naiad, savoring a single moment among an infinitely many others. Many regarded him as strange for this, but still found it endearing when Emile remembered something they had told him centuries ago. Or minutes ago. Really, the time frame didn’t matter. He was exactly the middle of the height range of the naiads, shorter than Remy, but not as short as Logan.

Remy was a lazy naiad with dark skin and some dark eye covers he had stolen off a human a thousand or two years ago. They were horribly ruined from the water, but Remy insisted he could see through them just fine (even though the others were certain he could not). Remy had hair the color of the pond at night, a black that shunned the light wherever he swam. His eyes were the color of the wood of the boats the humans used to travel to the shrine, a deep earthy color, although they were rarely seen by the other naiads. He only came up an inch short to Virgil, a fact he pretended not to care about but secretly seethed with jealousy about. Indeed, true to this trend, Remy was extremely laid back, even when his internal emotions were in turmoil. He flirted with the other naiads occasionally, but everyone except Emile found living in the moment for long enough to care about another naiad in that way futile.

“Deceit” was something of a mystery to the naiads he had lived with his entire life. He looked slightly less dreamlike than the other naiads, his face less perfect, giving him a foreign look compared to everyone else. His eyes were the color of the sun shining through the surface of the pond on a clear day, and his hair was so bleached by the sun that it was as white as the light that came from the Fairy Queen’s shrine. Half of his face was covered in a slightly pink crisscrossed pattern he insisted was a birthmark, but that looked more like a scar. He, unlike the original four, had entered the pond later than them. He showed up one day, never explaining who he was or how he came to be there. He was the shortest of the nymphs, a fact he often resented. He was the most active in trying to drown humans, but seemed to find only a grim humor to it, as opposed to Emile’s apparent glee. He seemed to have something against them, though what that was he never said.

The nymphs had lived in the pond for eons, drowning many humans who dared to get to close to the water. The pond they lived in was nestled in a small park-like field dotted with gazebos surrounded by a perfect-looking hedge. A small, cumbling wooden boathouse was a stark difference to the polished and pristine state of the field and the boardwalk surrounding the slightly insignificant looking little pond. Outside of the hedge was thick forest in all directions. After twists and turns along lightly trodden paths, a two story Victorian-style house stood surrounded by a massive yard. This was the caretaker’s estate, where the current overseer of Fablehaven, a man named Patton Sanders, resided. Patton Sanders was a strong looking man, in his prime, the lust for adventure ever lurking in his sky-colored eyes. Despite his tan skin, dirt colored hair, and perfect smile, Patton Sanders, figure of legend and rumor alike, was a massive dork. In public he was a figure of renown who was rumored to have slain a dragon, but at home he was a lonely, giddy, hopeless romantic with round reading glasses and an adorable quizzical smile always stuck on his lips. He’d seen many saddening sights in his life, but that smile always stayed there no matter what as he wrote in his Journal of Secrets in umite wax, an invisible substance that could only be read if a candle of the same kind of wax was burned nearby.

Journal of Secrets,

Tomorrow, business brings me to the pond of the Fairy Queen’s shrine. And by business, I mean curiosity. I’ve only read of the splendor of that place, but I’d like to see it with my own eyes. I’ve been told satyrs, nymphs, fairies, dryads, and (very rarely) centaurs reside there! To see so many kinds of (relatively) good natured magical creatures in one place is astounding! It’s through quite a rough patch of forest, but I’ll be careful. Well... I may be a bit reckless too. But hey! It hasn’t backfired so far, I’m still mostly intact. And I plan to stay that way, so I won’t be visiting the Fairy Queen. I’d prefer not to become a bunch of dandelions in the forest, thank you very much! I make preparations tonight to go to the pond. I can hardly describe how excited I am, so I won’t! Goodbye!

Sincerely, Patton Sanders, dragon slayer extraordinaire

Taglist:

@flyingturtlecat @prinnxe0 @stop-it-anxiety

[fidgemimic]

betaadmin replied to your post: my brain over here thinkin abt jester getting a...

hey fidge WHY you gotta do this to me

because im sad abt this CONSTANTLY and i love it

he does borrow it eventually. either bc he asks jester, or she assumes he’d want to read it as well. but having it on his person feels like carrying a massive stone, and he’s almost terrified to open the cover and begin reading it.

beau gives him strange looks when he catches him not 40 pages in by the second day. he doesn’t notice - trying to keep his eyes on the words while frumkin digs his claws into caleb’s shoulders and purrs loudly. it helps keep away the foggy memories trying to creep through and pull him away from what’s in front of him. it works most times, but it only gets harder as he goes on.

he gets lost once - reaching a scene where the children, now teenagers, dance together in an empty house where no one can hear them. holding each other and laughing and feeling so, so happy and safe for reasons that they haven’t quite got an understanding of yet.

it had been late - two and a half hours past midnight - and they had been left in the cottage alone. master ikithon had been called on business in Rexxentrum, and had decided that the three of them would be left alone to study on their own. he would test them upon his return to ensure they had been working.

but until then, they were alone.

they had pushed the heavy furniture out of the center of the small bedroom - leaving a small clearing with just enough space for the three of them to practice dancing, trading off with each other in smooth, fluid movements. he can feel their hands still. astrid’s body in front of him, radiating warmth as she places a hand at his hip and entwines their fingers a bit too tightly. he welcomes the pressure - finds it calming - and has to resist the urge to pull her close just to prove they’re really here. eodwulf takes her place once they trade off, towering over bren by a good couple of inches as he places a hand on bren’s shoulder. his fingers always feel too cold, and bren carefully rubs his thumb over his knuckles hoping they warm.

they’re so different from each other and yet so utterly amazing in their own right. he thinks he loves them, but he can never bring himself to say it. but this is good as it is. together, safe, alone. laughing at each poorly placed step and half-whispered joke they say in the dark of this bedroom. his heart feels so full he thinks it might burst, but instead he laughs and leans into one of them, tears coming unbidden as the emotions become overwhelming-

a heavy hand on his shoulder pulls him back. his head feels stuffed with cotton, tight and unfocused. he blinks rapidly for a moment, but the tears in his eyes don’t clear, even as they roll down his face. the hand squeezes, and he looks over to see the blurry shape of beau sitting next to him.

“Hey, put that away for a minute, ok?” she says, vaguely motioning towards the book in his lap. caleb takes a shaking breath and complies. he will find his place later, if needed, though he didn’t look at the page number that he had been on. “You ok, man?”

He opens his mouth to speak, closes it and clears his throat when he notes how tight it feels. Looks to the stained wood of the table in front of him. “Ja. I am.. fine.”

She’s quiet for a beat, and he doesn’t dare look up - instead focused on reaching up to try and subtly wipe the tears from his eyes.

he watches as she reaches out and places a hand on the book in front of him.

“Maybe you should give this back to Jester. It looks like it’s not really doing you any good.”

“I.. I would like to finish it at the very least.”

he hears her sigh in annoyance. “You can finish it later. Like when you aren’t in the kind of mood where you’re going to keep doing that.. thing,” he sees movement out of the corner of his eye as beauregard waves a hand around her own head, “but I just saw you spacing out and crying in the middle of the tavern. You haven’t been reading this.”

“I have.” he mutters, a small bit of annoyance creeping into his own voice. “I am just... remembering.”

“Yea, but are they good memories?”

“Yes.” and that stops her. he looks back up, eyes meeting hers, and he can see the creeping hint of skepticism in the way her eyebrows are cocked. he can feel a horrible part of him, desperate for things he doesn’t deserve, begging. “Beauregard, these are some of the best memories that I have," his voice breaks terribly, and beau startles. his vision is blurring again, but he feels too stubborn in this moment to break eye contact to wipe them again. “I am asking you to let me have this. I will return the book when I am done, but just let me have this for a few more days.”

“fuckin.... fine.” she reaches up to scrub at her face and groan. the second her hand is gone from the book, he grips it close to his chest before he has a moment to even think about the action. a single finger reaches out to poke him harshly in the shoulder. “but listen - if you start actin fuckin weird and shit, or i have any reason to think that this is fucking you up worse than normal, i’m taking it. understand?”

“Ja - got it.”

“Cool. You have 3 more days.”

“Danke.”

she sits back in her seat, her gaze lingering on him for just a second before she brings up her ale to take a drink. caleb rests the book in his lap - content to be done reading for the time being. his head still feels foggy, his eyes wet and tired. he’s not sure if the book is doing anything good for him at all, honestly, but he can’t bring himself to leave it just yet. at the very least, beau allows a moment of silence between them, though he can see her fidgeting. the conversation isn’t finished yet, and watching her attempt to give him a second to recollect himself is almost as heart warming as it is utterly annoying.

“Do you have a question, Beauregard?”

she shoots him a half glare, but still attempts to act nonchalant.

“I mean.. I guess?” she mutters, crossing her arms, “I just.. like, you said you fell in love, right?”

he hums.

“But Jester and Nott have only ever mentioned Astrid.”

there’s a deep twinge of guilt in his chest. something that’s become more and more prominent the more he lets the nein think what they will about his old friends. he winces.

“Ah. Ja.”

“but it was both of them?”

he breathes. in. out. “Ja. I just.. I didn’t want them to ask more questions than they already had. Let them think what they will.”

beau snorts. “That’s a shitty idea that will definitely backfire.”

“I am aware.” he mutters back, his lips twitching into a small, sad smile. “I am, ah, worried I suppose. I think he would be very upset with me if he knew.”

that earns him a Look. “Why? I mean, I think if we meet up with your exes,” he nearly chokes at the word, “I don’t think whether or not you talked abt both of them to your friends is going to be anyone’s biggest issue.”

"Mm. You are definitely right about that.”

he nearly winces at how dejected his voice sounds as he says it, but instead he drops his gaze back to the book in his lap and places his hand on it, stroking the cover gently. they will have many problems if they were to ever see astrid and eodwulf again. his gossip about the two of them will hardly be at the top of their list, he’s sure.

beau glances at him, brows furrowed, and he can see the gears turning in her head. slowly, awkwardly, she places a hand on his shoulder again.

“If we, like, see them.. and they aren’t - you know - absolutely fucking crazy and evil and shit-”

“they will be, but go on.”

“yea but like, on the super off chance that they aren’t,” she pauses, looking him in the eye. her hand squeezes in what he assumes is her attempt at comforting him, “maybe we can do something. ok? i’m not promising shit, but.. you never know or whatever.”

he blinks, unsure of what to say or think. he doesn’t like the small spark of Something in his chest at the words - at the implication - and he tries desperately to stomp it down before it can burn too quickly.

“i.. do not think that will be an option.” he says carefully, “it has been a, ah, very long time. the empire is very good at ensuring it’s people do what it wishes - especially, ah, Him.” he breathes again shakily, ignoring the sudden race of his heart at the thought of that man. “but, ah.. thank you for the, the thought, beauregard.”

“hey man, it’s an option, alright? we’ve tried dumber shit and gotten out alive.” we really haven’t, he thinks, but stays silent. beau stands and grabs her drink, turning to walk away before pausing. instead, she turns back around and stares at him, then leans down to awkwardly wrap her arms around his shoulders. caleb freezes, suddenly unsure of what he’s supposed to do other than offering an awkward pat on the arm.

when she pulls away, she’s still got a hand on him. “i mean it though. if that book fucks you up, i’m taking it.”

he faulters, “J-ja, ok.”

“and you give it back in 3 days.”

“i remember, beauregard.”

“and if we see those two, we’re going to get them away from him.”

he doesn’t respond.

“okay?”

silence.

“Widogast.”

“beauregard,” he glares at her, his voice deeply tinged with warning as she glares back. he tries to ignore the anxiety crawling through his chest. “these are very dangerous people. if we meet them, it would be easier to kill them than it would be to change their minds.”

“if we have to kill them, we will,” she says, and his stomach twists at the thought. he’s considered the outcome hundreds of times over the years, but hearing someone speak it into existence makes it feel closer than ever. he reaches up to frumkin and scratches at his cheek, warranting a new round of loud purring that draw’s beau’s attention. “but if there’s something we can get a hold of, i’m will to try and pull them out. got it?”

there’s a pause before caleb nods, nearly imperceptible at how small it is.

"good.” she slaps his shoulder just a bit too hard, “good talk. enjoy your book.”

she turns and walks to the bar, leaving caleb at the table alone.

he glances down, eyes roaming over the cover of the book, using a single finger to softly trace the outline of three small figures huddled together in front of a lone house in the middle of a field. he breathes deeply, focusing on that and the sensation of frumkin’s purrs. he’s done reading for the night, he thinks. he can feel the familiar mental exhaustion creeping forward, already threatening to turn the soft lull of the dinner-crowd into a dull cacophony of grating voices and sharp, unexpected noises that will make his skin crawl.

collecting his items and draining the last of his ale, he stands and makes his way upstairs to the quiet of his room. putting the book away for now is simple, and there’s still a warmth in his chest that lingers from the soft memories of dancing alone in an empty home. he hopes - knows - that dreams will come, but at the very least he knows they will not be nightmares. and for that, he’s grateful.

[raku-fansubs]

Hi raku! Just wondering if you know if there are other shows of kaji-kun aside from kaji 100? I'm recently very fond of him and i was thinking if he has more shows or even guest appreances? If you have a list or just you know, even if it's a movie (i think he appread in a movie or is that a series?) It would be great if you can tell me ^^ I'm going to look for it and watch it lol kaji fever is something! Haha! Thanks as always~

Hello~ Do I know other Kaji shows aside from Kaji100? (〇o〇；)

How do I start… he’s been around for quite a long time, so, erm… THERE’S A LOT. If I had to start listing all the shows he’s been involved with (narration, guest, message, mentions etc.), it’d be endless and will probably take me years to finish, so I’ll refrain. But I sort of am trying to work towards making that kind of database in my Kajipedia blog, it’s still incomplete but here’s a list of all the shows he’s hosted. I think I’m still missing stuff, but I’ll keep working on making a page for every single program and links to the online uploads & where you can order the official products (won’t be done any sooner though). At the moment I’ve done only the pages for ongoing series like Kaji100, his radio program and the AOT radio that’s on hiatus but will probably resume around April, need to get to making KoeTabi and BokuTabi’s pages soon.

He’s been in the movie KamiVoice but… it may be just cause I’m critical about Japan’s live-action dramas but I honestly didn’t enjoy it very much. Probably wouldn’t have finished it if not for Kaji and the other seiyuus, I’d recommend to invest your time in the anime/drama cds/events/radios he’s in than that (-∧-；) 

But if you really want to watch it, someone has asked me for the link before so feel free to refer to that :D

Also, he was in a short TV series last year, but that was scripted horribly. The plot sucked, the camerawork was horrible, the twist didn’t make sense. Only thing that kept me going was that Kaji was on the screen (Again, I’m VERY critical when it comes to Japan’s live-action so this may just be biased opinion). 

It’s not on Kaji, cause Kaji acts well in reading events. The problem is with the production team. I was having high expectations of it, which is why it backfired and ended up becoming this disappointing. 

[rvincentwrites-blog]

The Gifted: S1 E10 “eXploited” Recap and Review

This was certainly a fast paced episode. There was a lot going on, between different groups, and it was a lot of back and forth between the Mutant Underground, Sentinel Services, and Trask. Thankfully, all the scenes fit. There wasn't any extended focus on one place for longer than you would think necessary. There was a lot going on, a lot to unpack, and so overall, the flow was solid and cohesive. Some of the writing choices, however, were a little less understandable.

I have no complaints about how the writers are handling the Strucker siblings and their abilities. While I might have been a little wary of two suburban kids suddenly being gifted (haha) with some of the most powerful abilities we’ve seen in an X-Men series right off the bat, I’ve grown to be a bit more interested and invested in Andy and Lauren. I’m not especially fond of their parents, who suffer from being a little too formulaic for my liking, but Andy and Lauren themselves have begun to shine in this show. Their relationship as siblings, and this ‘Fenris’ power has really caught my attention and I’m very curious to learn more about it, and see how it further develops. Their interactions feel very genuine and real; they truly do seem like siblings, albeit some very unusual ones. It is probably a little over dramatic or showy for some, but I also enjoy how the showrunners are showing their combined powers. Visually, it’s just fun to watch. The slow motion, the hair blowing, the glowing and humming silence, it all gives you a little touch of what the two teenagers must be feeling in that moment of power. I really enjoy watching them; they’re growing to be some of my favorite characters, much to my surprise. 

On the other hand, there’s another character who I have not nearly so positive feelings towards. For a few episodes now, Esme the telepath has been giving off a horribly suspicious vibe. Obviously it's foreshadowing but this episode really hit you in the face with her 'ulterior motives' angle. Her smug smiles, her lurking behind every door, it's a little much. In a base that has been repeatedly noted to be over-capacity, how does no one notice her acting so suspiciously? She is constantly eavesdropping and stalking around the main cast, and no one thinks anything of it. She is also been given way too much power in this group for such a recent addition. Her telepath powers are useful, and she's shown to be insistent, but in a dangerous situation that would require offensive abilities, she clearly is not the first person who should be asked to join.

At least, it seems that way, until we are given a proper look at the extent of her powers in the last act of the episode. More than being able to sense people's thoughts and feelings, Esme is able to manipulate them. As an empath, that makes complete sense, sense the ability to control emotion is tied into those abilities. However, something that bothers me about Esme is that they go between the terms 'telepath' and 'empath' rather liberally. Perhaps I'm mistaken, but I was always under the assumption that while empaths can be telepaths, not all telepaths are empaths-- meaning, telepaths can read minds, but only empaths can alter emotions. Is that a purposeful miscommunication? Or just a mistake in the writing? It's hard to say. 

Regardless, Esme unleashes her empath abilities during an assault on Sentinel Services, forcing the officers to first release the imprisoned mutants, then turning them against one another in a vicious bloodbath. This, admittedly, was a surprise to me. I thought that Esme was going to be revealed to be a Hound agent. Her insistence in using the Strucker children in the previous episode was a huge indication in this direction, as well as her repeated insistence that they attack Trask-- I assumed she was trying to give the entire Underground to Campbell. However, that isn't the case; she's just a mutant with clearly violent and terrorist leanings. Her goal was to retrieve her...sisters? clones?-- from Trask. This felt a little over the top. How could three empaths (since they all seem to share the same abilities) be captured by Sentinel Services at the same time? If their powers allow them to manipulate emotion, how did any of them get captured in the first place? Maybe this will come up in the next episode but currently it's baffling. I also hope we get some proper reactions of complete shock to see three Esmes, since while in the transport car, Clarice, Andy, and Lauren didn't seem to be at all taken aback by seeing two Esmes riding along with them.

Another aspect of Esme's abilities that I don't understand is why she left Agent Turner alive. She killed literally every other officer in the escort; why not him? He was shot, but clearly still alive. Why not kill him? Why not manipulate his mind? Is there something about him that prevents him from being affected? Or is it just really convenient plot armor that is keeping this guy in this show, giving him a moment of redemption before ripping it away and worse than before, for a second time.

Agent Turner has every reason to be angry. He lost his child in a horrible accident. His disdain for mutants is fair, and his personal grudge against Sonia after she used her powers on him and it backfired was an interesting dynamic that I would have liked to see more of (more on that later). However, despite his very reasonable problems, as a character, he's nearly insufferable. He is supposed to represent someone fueled by blind fear and anger, he is an example of what loss and heartbreak can do to someone negatively, but he is also vicious and hypocritical. When the Struckers come into his home to convince him to move the mutants from Trask into the Sentinel prisons, he keeps arguing that what he is doing is 'legal'; however, time and time again, he has shown to disregard the law of it suits him. I don't think the writers of The Gifted intended to write him as so purposefully blind to his own hypocrisy, but it makes his motivations fall flat, and his actions to be unreasonable. There isn't a 'using the law to do what he thinks is right' like Reed Strucker stressed in the beginning of the season. There isn't even 'I bend the rules but only for the right reasons'. He simply does what he wants, because he wants to, for his own personal vendetta. This has been personal since the beginning. His interrogation with Sonia, claiming that "it's personal" is kind of reduntant; it was personal since the first episode Agent Turner. It's been personal this whole time.

And Sonia. Sonia, Sonia, Sonia. I did not want to like her. Her first few appearances were not ones that played in her favor for me. She came off as self-righteous and arrogant. For awhile, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were going to learn some twist about her, how she had manipulated Johnny's memories and she wasn't actually there from the start, that their relationship was some sort of farce. But, that didn't happen. Sonia is just as she appears. And while I didn't like that at first, I grew to like her, albeit begrudgingly. Sonia had a huge strike against her at the start, and that was manipulating someone for her own benefit while claiming it to be for the greater good. Using Clarice to save Johnny helped others, that's true, but the truth was she wanted to save Johnny more than anything. Her insistence it was for everyone rubbed me the wrong way; if she had simply admitted that most of it was for herself, then I would have accepted it. I wouldn't have liked it, but it would have at least been more honest. But, like Clarice, I was mad about her methods, and kind of wrote her off. 

However, the past two episodes really did good about making Sonia a likable and sincerely written character. She is flawed. She has selfish moments and she makes mistakes. But she isn't a bad person. Killing Sonia was unexpected, and absolutely heart-wrenching, coming from someone who disliked her at the beginning. I was actually very sad to see her go. I imagine that this is going to be a catalyst for two other characters-- Blink and Proudstar-- to push them together, as the series had been leaning towards for awhile now. While I'm definitely interested in seeing where that goes (I'm a fan of both, and think they'd have a fun dynamic) I didn't want it to be at the cost of Sonia's life. It feels like a shortcut towards a different direction, but, if done right, could be some solid ground to build emotional depth on. I think Sonia was still robbed some chance to have further interest with Agent Turner, but it seems that will be something that has to be solved another way.

Going into next episode. things are going to only further escalate. Agent Turner is out for blood again. Campbell has his data from the Strucker children to fuel his weapon. The Underground has to deal with the overzealous Esme and her sisters-- or clones? Really, what are they?-- and their violent and aggressive methods. It's going to be intense, it's going to have more losses on all sides, and we're going to see what sort of world is going to rise out of the ashes of all of this conflict.

[gentlemenclubbbz]

mine - Ian

Request in which you two are drunk and act ‘possessively’ with each other. I tried, anyway.

***

Everybody could see…that you two were trying to get close. You and Ian, that is. You were at the same party, at Max’s house—a random reunion between YouTubers and friends. And, normally, you would’ve talked with Ian until you got nothing to talk about. But in this ‘intimate’ sort of atmosphere, you felt rather…anxious. Awkward, to say the least—your mind was running with different opportunistic choices and confession scenarios.

Because you felt that today was the day you’d tell Ian your feelings for him. You just couldn’t contain yourself anymore; it was like some annoying clock going inside your head that told you this was the right time, that you couldn’t wait any longer. Ever since you’ve seen him with…her, things inside your heart have changed. He has been hanging around other girl while you weren’t around and…you felt jealous. No doubt. You saw Ian first, definitely, so he was by default yours! She had no right to interfere with your relationship and act all flirty with him when he obviously had you!

Well, not exactly, but sometimes you just couldn’t control your jealousy and the hidden possessiveness you had hidden inside of you. You were too deeply infatuated to back down; and you weren’t just going to give him up now, when you felt so close! Ian was a dear ‘friend’ of yours and you struggled to get to this point where you could almost tell him everything. Except for your crush on him, of course. That was still top secret. But still—maybe you wouldn’t have gotten this jealous if it weren’t for the fact that he sometimes responded to the girl’s affections. You saw him smiling a bit more differently at her than you—and it was pissing you off. A knife was twisting into your heart the more you have watched him…

And so, you decided to tell him today; the party was the perfect excuse.

Except that…you couldn’t gather your courage. Whenever you finally approached Ian and stared into those eyes of his, you’d forget your words. You’d open your mouth, he’d ask you what was it, if there was something wrong—and then you’d say nothing and leave him dumbfounded. For a while, he’d try to find you and talk it out, but you’ve avoided him like the plague until he gave up. Seeing that all of this was going horribly wrong, you decided to just fuck it all and drink some alcohol. Maybe you’ll gain the bravery you so desired and needed.

The problem was that, even if you go slightly tipsy and you couldn’t quite keep your thoughts straight, you almost forgot your main objective. You were still afraid to approach Ian, despite everything. You just couldn’t come up with a good reason to do so. And he kept on checking his phone—you were sure he was talking with that girl. Through your blurry vision, you thought you saw a smile on the boy’s face. And it only discouraged you, thinking that he obviously wasn’t interested in you.

So you slam the bottle on the table and glared at it, frustrated at you own jealousy and inability to act. A certain Australian saw you from a distance and finally decided to confront you.

“What’s up with you?” Max asks you as he slips on the chair next to you, looking at you with concerned green eyes. You look at him and feel yourself breaking down—Max was the only one who managed to figure out who you were crushing on so naturally you told him everything. He tried to help you, of course (in his not-so-subtle-way), but it always seemed to backfire. Either both of you were dense or Max’s ways were too…weird.

Anyway… You pout and keep on staring at the bottle. “It’s Ian.”  Max glances at the boy in question, but he waits for you to continue. “He’s probably talking to that bitch again…”

Max sighs and gently wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to him. He rubs your arm soothingly and you lean onto his shoulder, loving the way he was comforting you. “So what? He still likes you!”

“How do you know that?”

“I’m confident in my feelings as a male.” You highly doubted that. He probably knew something that you didn’t since Max was best friends with Ian. But you didn’t want to get your hopes up and interpret this situation the wrong way. So you kept silent about it. “Why don’t you go and tell him already, hmm?”

You blush slightly and look down at your feet “I—I don’t have the courage to…”

“Then drink some more and grow some balls,” he instructs, shoving his own bottle in front of your face. But you shake your head, refusing.

“Nah, if I drink even a little bit, I’ll puke.”

Max shrugs “Suit yourself.” And then he simply kisses your temple as a sign of brotherly affection. That makes you relax a bit more and you let out a sigh. “I’ll be cheering for you.” You’ve always felt secure around the Australian, so this kind of thing was normal.

Not for Ian, it seemed.

“What are you two up to?” Ian’s voice comes out of nowhere and then, when you lift your head, you see him standing in front of you, glaring at both of you. Max immediately lets you go, but not before kissing your head one more time, as if to tease Ian. There seemed to be an intense battle of glares between the two males with a sort of agreement as a result; Max shrugged and went away, leaving you alone with Ian. You were too tired to run away so you simply stood there, in your chair, watching him. “What was that all about?”

“What was what…?” you rubbed your eyes, not knowing what his problem was.

But Ian was fuming and he was clearly angered, judging by how tight he clenched his teeth. You could almost hear the way they were rubbing against each other—and his eyes were flaming. You were just so confused; what the hell got into him?

“You and Max.”

“What about me and Max?”

Ian took a step closer to you, hovering above menacingly. “Are you two together or something?” Seeing him so serious and how obviously jealous he was made you burst into laughter. And the thought of you being with Max was ridiculous. You could never see him more than a friend. Ian frowns at your laughter, thinking that you were mocking him—his brows furrow over his eyes. “What’s so fucking funny, [name]?”

You wipe your tears from the corner of your eyes and glance at him. He looked even funnier with that expression, to be honest. But you tried to contain your laughter in order to answer him and put him at ease. “Cause you actually believe me and Max are a thing,” you laugh some more. “No way, dude!”

“It’s not that funny,” he grumbles after your explanation—and he deflates a bit. He actually looked like a kicked puppy; and he was adorable!

“Why do you ask? Were you jealous?” Somehow, you eased up a bit after all this—so you had the courage to ask him this so casually. As a joke, of course. You didn’t actually believe that he was jealous over a silly little thing like this. Or be jealous because he thought you were going to be taken by someone else…Ian didn’t like you.

Did he?

“Yes.” The answer comes promptly and you take a few seconds to comprehend what you’ve just heard.

“You…” you gulp, your cheeks suddenly growing red. “You actually were jealous?”

“Of course I was!” his declaration is shocking and you can only stare up at him dumbfounded. You can’t say anything, you can’t think about anything. So Ian has to take the lead. He huffs in a kind of frustration and takes another step at you. He grabs the sides of your face and leans over your lips, hovering above your mouth. Your breathing ceases, your heart skips a beat—and you can totally feel the scent of alcohol still lingering on him. So he was probably drunk as hell if he was acting so boldly like this. The Ian you knew was sort of awkward and blunt with his words—but this Ian was much more than that. He emanated a sort of dominant masculinity that immediately activated a switch inside of you.

You were turned on by this side of him—even if he might be so drunk that he won’t remember it the next day. You hoped he did; you surely will.

“Ian…?”

His hair was ruffled and his eyes were on fire; and he looked gorgeous. “You are mine, get that?” he declares; and somehow, you don’t mind it. You can only smile encouragingly. “I thought that was clear.”

“Possessive…” you find yourself teasing him, getting into the mood.

Ian didn’t appreciate your response so he makes a rough sound and gets straight into the action. He dips down low and captures your lips into a sloppy kiss that turned into a mess soon enough. You were both in a frenzy, clinging to one another and just keeping on kissing until you found yourself out of breath and satisfied. He pulls away with a tug at your lower lip, biting it and holding it a bit between his teeth. You growl and it earns you a beautiful cocky smirk from him.

“Get it now?” he whispers, letting you go and standing straight. You’re a bit dazed after that intense kiss that showed his true dominant intentions, but you still manage to nod. Just when he was about to say something else, you hear the standard message notification coming from his phone. And then immediately afterwards you remember that he was supposedly talking with that girl of his. Your mood soured, plummeting down at high speed. You frowned, crossing your arms over your chest—and Ian is quick to notice these things.

“What?”

“Nothing.” You turn your head but he doesn’t have it. He grabs your chin and holds it there.

“What.is.it?” he emphasizes every word, obviously not taking any of your shit. And the icy tone of his words sends chills down your spine. Don’t mess with iDubbbz.

“Hah! You were talking with that girl, weren’t you?” you huff, letting all the venom of your jealousy out.

He blinks in confusion for a second, probably not knowing what you were referring to. You were about to tell him to forget whatever you have been saying when he was distracted by his phone again. And then he realized. Smirking, he asked “Am I not allowed to talk to other girls?”

“NO!” you burst out, frustrated. There was nothing left to hide: that kiss said everything there was needed to know. But then you say the triumphant look on Ian’s face and realized your mistake. “I mean—“

Ian simply leans over to your ear and whispers, breathing heavily down on it “Who’s possessive now?”

You push him away by his chest, protesting “I’m serious here!”

“Good.” He once again backs away from you. “Cause I am too. So…” he pulls out your phone and taps something on it. You were fuming with anger, thinking that he was going to reply to her and forget about you in an instant. But then he shows you what he did. “I blocked her.”

The smirk on your face was priceless. “Good.”

[thebluesideofthemoon]

The Wall #45: COLLATERAL BEAUTY

Okay, I did say that the Zootopia re-review was going to be next, but this is something I need to get out of the way right now. Yes, I saw this movie, Collateral Beauty, a while back actually - it was the last movie I saw last year (I saw it in vacation), and my family are all big Will Smith fans, and I do love me some Will Smith, so this could have been a real treat, right?

HOOOOOOOO BOY. THIS is a BAD movie. This is the kind of bad movie that becomes legendary by its sheer shittiness.

So this movie’s plot is that Will Smith dealing with the grief of having lost his daughter to a horrible accident and is coping with it by sending these letters to the concepts of Death, Time, and Love, only for those concepts to then become personified and help him deal with his trauma.

Now, I know this sounds like a weepy, kind of corny, melodramatic movie that comes out around this time of year to try to tug at your heartstrings and maybe attempt to nab an Oscar or two. I’m not the biggest fan of these kind of movies because I find they just do nothing but try to be as emotionally manipulative as possible while giving you a cornball script and pretty shallow execution- it only succeeds because the themes in and of themselves are sad, and they only play them with the one note of sadness. This isn’t always the case, as a movie like Son of Saul works wonderfully by giving us far other emotions than just sadness- it also has fear, hope, suspense, it actually gets you to connect with the characters, so it’s not just sad for sake of being sad, there’s a lot more to it that allows it become more than “just another Holocaust movie”.

It may sound like I’m going off on a tangent, but I need to make this clear for a reason- I know these kind of movies exist, but if they don’t have much more going for them there’s no reason for me to see them, but at the very least they have the dignity to know what they are, and get in and get out. I thought this was going to be one of those. I thought I would just say that “yeah, I know some people will find this sort of thing sad, but it’s not for me. 4/10” and that’s where the story would normally end.

… unfortunately, not for this. To give the movie the very little credit it deserves it absolutely surprised me, blindsided me, you could even say it shocked me because it turned out to be absolutely NOT what I was expecting. What this movie DID turn out to be was one of the biggest, most pretentious, absolutely vile, mean-spirited piles of shit I have ever seen in my life.

For one, the plot of the movie that you see in the trailers (as I detailed above) is A BIG LIE! Yes, Will Smith does have to cope with the grief of losing his daughter, but two things: 1. He’s actually not the main character of the movie, it’s actually Edward Norton, Michael Pena, and Kate Winslet, his friends. 2. The plot involves them GASLIGHTING Will Smith. Eeeeeyup. What actually happens is that they all work for an ad agency where Norton and Smith are partner owners, and now that Smith is depressed they’re losing their clients because Ed Norton is pretty useless at dealing with them. So he, and two other co-workers, Pena and Winselt, all form a plan to sell the company under Will Smith’s nose- thanks to an offer they were given to have the company bought out by $17 per share (which is easy to remember when the movie only mentions it a measly twenty or thirty times throughout the movie’s run time)- by making him look crazy by hiring actors to play the abstract concepts of Death, Time, and Love (played by Helen Mirren, Jacob Latimore, and Keira Knightley, respectively) so they can get Will Smith fired. All while these actors all tie into in a “metaphorical way” to these three characters because one of them is dying, one of them has a daughter who hates them, and the other one works too much to the point where they ignore having kids, even though these people are some of the most cruel assholes in New York City history.

That sure does sound like a fun movie, doesn’t it?! Where… the fuck… do I begin?

The story is by far what gets on my nerves the most. For one it’s a movie that it’s basically built on conveniences for 90% of the time; the tension of the movie hinges on nobody, aside from Will Smith, being able to see that these actors are there. So everyone else around them just pretends that these actors aren’t there to keep the illusion that they are visions that Will Smith is seeing to prove that he’s gone crazy. One of the most egregious examples of this happens when we see through a digital camera Will Smith talking with Helen Mirren but she’s somehow removed from the footage even though EVERYONE ELSE AROUND THEM KNEW THAT SHE WAS ACTUALLY THERE, because apparently these concepts can decide to interact with other people just because they can. In NEW YORK CITY. Because Will Smith just accepts that these concepts are real, and not once bothers to find out if this is true, even though this is a plan that could have easily backfired. So did these three scumbags also hire everyone else in New York to act as if they can’t see Death, Time, and Love because that would ruin the illusion? No explanation given on that at all! The movie also has two particularly awful twist endings, which I’ll get to once I go through the rest of things wrong with this abomination of a movie.

Not since Movie 43 have I seen so many good actors completely wasted on such awful material. Most of the actors are directed like they were on a middle school play, and this is one of those movies where it was clearly only given the direction of “act sad. No, sadder. No, REALLY sad, because we need to wring out every single piece of emotional manipulation out of this wretched piece of trite”.

Yes, I know that movies by nature are manipulative, but there is a way to have a movie tug at your heartstrings in a genuine way that is earned when the characters and conflict are that well fleshed out and allow you to get invested because you want to see these people succeed- a movie like Anomalisa pulls this off because even though the main character himself isn’t necessarily a completely good person, they flesh out his dilemma so well that you completely understand why he goes through what he does- you can feel the emotions, you can connect with him, you can relate to the situations because they managed to make them feel completely and absolutely real, and when those sort of real emotional situations get pulled off in the way that something like Anomalisa does it, it sticks with you, it weighs on your mind, it makes you feel a rollercoster of emotions and it really hits home!

That doesn’t happen when the main characters are all slimy scumbags who want to screw over their friend majorly (whom, by the way, is apparently depressed enough by his daughter’s death that he pretty much becomes a vegetable, yet still manages to keep himself fed, well-kept- sure he has a bit of grey in his hair, but he’s still WILL SMITH), not really caring about his well-being because they are in actuality really shitty people- not that the movie ever calls them out on it because it’s too busy being really fucking proud of itself on how clever it is, and how much it’s trying to get you to cry. It’s monotonous at best, and it feels really underhanded at worst because it’s a movie that is trying to get a rise out of its audience in the cheapest way possible. It’s the reason why I absolutely despised movies like Home and Remember Me so much because they tried to pull the card of trying to make you feel emotional investment on a movie that doesn’t really warrant it! But at least those movies only did them in bits and pieces, NOT THROUGHOUT THE WHOLE FUCKING THING!

And the dialogue! Oh God, is it terrible! Most of it is either talking about selling this building, it’s really stilted, or it means absolutely fucking nothing. They mention the phrase “collateral beauty” so much in this movie AND IT MEANS NOTHING! It’s a meaningless statement that wouldn’t get irritating if it wasn’t for the fact that they mention it SEVERAL IN TIMES IN THE MOVIE! It’s by far the worst title drop I’ve seen in any movies since, oh gee, THE LAST MOVIE I REVIEWED THAT STARRED WILL SMITH. “How could this movie get worse?” did you ask? I will tell you because this movie offers a very special deal: TWO shitty twists for the price of one, which I’m going to spoil because, fuck this movie.

The first twist is that the actors who played Death, Time, and Love… ACTUALLY ARE DEATH, TIME, AND LOVE! They were actually helping Michael Pena, Edward Norton, and Kate Winslet with THEIR problems instead of Will Smith… because that makes a lot of sense, it’s not like they’ve been fucking him over this entire movie. They also do end up taking their money ($20,000 each) for their services, which is admittedly the one genuinely funny thing about the movie (whether or not that was intentional is hard to tell because this movie fucking sucks).

The second, and by far WORSE, twist comes in the form of Howard (that’s Will Smith’s character) meeting this woman named Madeline (played by Naomi Harris, who appeared in Skyfall and Spectre, and another 2016 movie that I will talk about later, Moonlight) who works at this support group, to which Howard comes into and constantly interacts with her. Evidently she too lost a daughter in a tragic accident, and talks to him about how her ex-husband sends her notes that say “if only we could be strangers again”. However, it turns out that Will Smith IS her ex-husband, and she was talking about the same girl that they both lost the same way. At no point in the movie do you ever get a hint that these two used to be in a relationship of any way because they literally act like strangers around each other. Also, she’s completely okay with her ex-husband saying things like he just had a conversation with Death and Time.

DOES THIS MOVIE LOATHE ITSELF?! DO THEY GET OFF TO THIS?! IN WHAT PLANET DO THEY THINK THAT THIS IS HOW HUMANS INTERACT WITH EACH OTHER?! I DON’T GET IT! THIS MOVIE IS FUCKING INSANE!

Collateral Beauty is disgusting. This isn’t a movie like Anomalisa, or Son of Saul, or Her; those movies play with your heartstrings like a cellist with a perfectly smooth, fine-tuned bow. This movie plays the heartstrings like a lunatic ax murderer with a bloody, rusty hacksaw. This isn’t just bad, it’s offensive. It’s vile, it’s repulsive, and it may just very well be the worst holiday movie ever made. This is Oscar Bait done way, WAY wrong. (1,855 words. Music: Undertale- Battle Against a True Hero)

I hate this movie. I absolutely, thoroughly, and very, VERY vehemently hate this movie. If not for Yoga Hosers, then this might be the worst movie I've seen this year, though to give Yoga Hosers a bit of credit, at least that movie never pretended to be anything more than stupid, unfunny bad movie. I was a bit conflicted on what to rate this movie, but I think I've got it.

Though this is VERY close to being a 0, this movie can still kiss my ass. It is THAT awful. Maybe I wouldn't hate it so much if it wasn't so dishonest, but this movie can rightfully fuck off. Well, I sure hope you guys enjoy this review I sure didn't! And I'll talk to you all next time on The Wall!

[mistralrunner]

Running Reads Oathbringer: Interludes and Part III.I

Time to jump back into liveblogging!

Spoilers for pages 555-605 below!

You know as nervous as I've been not knowing what Taravangian is up to, I really don't feel like going back to his twisted pov right now

At least with Venli there's hope of possiblyspren!Eshonai

Also where are Szeth and Nightblood?

It's nearly halfway through the book why can't they get pov

Kaza gets visions? I am concerned

What are they storming doing. No pun intended

Twisted face? Soulcaster?

We're finally going to learn more about Aimia yes!!!

There's yet another storm though beyond Everstorm and Highstorm?

"Closer and closer to oblivion" yeah friendly reminder that soulcaster fabrials are concerning and makes me wonder if Regrowth fabrials would also have dark side effects

Slowly becoming smoke? That's almost even more chilling than the stonelike thing mentioned before

You can soulcast pieces of an object when more proficient? Huh. Although casting air to anything is technically always a piece of an object so I guess those ones are automatically proficient?

Soulcasters start being able to see into Shadesmar?

So they see nothing beforehand?

Hmmm...being drawn into another world, another will reinforcing her own, something commanding and powerful attracted by her request for aid, so powerful spren are involved in soulcasters?

I wonder why there’s limited modes to a soulcaster, is it related to the spren involved?

Tricky to try to make generalizations from this cause it’s uncertain how ordinary Kaza is for a Soulcaster

Ooh soulcasters came from Akinah

Of course they did

Hey a shadow stretching in the wrong direction like Jasnah's from the WoR prologue!

The Shadesmar sun is where dying souls stretch toward maybe?

Well all the sailors not breathing is concerning

Is that odd cremling a larkin?

So the royal family keeps a soulcaster/tool weapon and she was forced to become slave to it and sacrifice her life in a way yikes

I did not see that coming with the cook well played ensuring everyone ate

Tattooed face I should have known like Axies

"There are those who could pull secrets from your soul, and the cost would be the end of worlds."

I am concerned

And disappointed we didn't really learn much about Aimia apart from Soulcaster connection

Oh no Taravangian's smart today I'm scared this is going to be disturbing

Nope Malata is Diagram I'm sad

I was rooting for you

Kind of praying for double agent but not counting on it

I want to like the Dustbringers just cause they're the maligned group but if they follow the Diagram and division alas

I forgot that there are no record/cd players so when Taravangian asks for music he actually gets a live children's choir singing outside his room while he plans atrocities

And here we go with the eugenics thinking preventing "stupid" people from reading although frankly that's foolish cause reading can improve one’s mind but I guess if your goal is a bunch of elites and a mindless serving class

Seriously the singing children is this eerie juxtaposition

Pfft the “Dalinar paradigm” is such an amusing name

What effect is Renarin having (although I'm proud he is a wild element the Diagram can't predict)

I'm concerned about the contingency plan

...

Wtf

Those poor children

"The monster you sometimes become"? Adrotagia he is generally already acting monstrous this is merely a step further

I guess it's comforting that at least the Diagram will resist him going too far for a certain definition of too far

Well the Listeners used the gemhearts to help grow food right? I think?

It is interesting that plants can photosynthesize stormlight, or something like it

Sad backstory still murder Taravangian

"Now he'd save the world. Well, the part of the world that mattered."

Yeah, not good

Hey Diagram do you think you should really be following the plans and agenda of a guy who is in favor of wantonly killing kids and eugenics? Like sure he predicted the future but if the big plan was by a guy even more morally terrifying than this one don't you think that might be a problem

Yeah I figured that was the plan, let Dalinar do the work of arranging the coalition then usurp him

Nooo why is the Dustbringer spren being sent for evil spying I want the Dustbringer to be a good guy

So the endgame is negotiate with Odium for a piece of the world at the cost of the rest I'm sure that's not going to backfire horribly

"Only one man would be strong enough to make that sacrifice"

Again with the "Some of you may die, but it is a sacrifice I am willing to make" mentality

So Voidbringers do have gemhearts?

Also Venli, I'm suspecting trap. Just saying. You were used. You have a horribly inflated sense of self importance.

Eshonai help us here

"You must embrace it...you have to want it." Nope definitely not a trap nope totally innocent

The Everstorm is just ash and thunder without rain?

Stormfather font?

She's still bonded to a Voidspren unfortunately

Ah yes they've been possessed and a couple are the crazed ghosts lovely

"This corpse"? Oh ouch

So the Voidbringers essentially have an eternal ruling class minus some shifts due to rulers going insane

"See passion and forgive this child" well seems they've bought into the Odium relabeled as passion thing

You know I keep thinking about beauty products labeled passion and it's really amusing

Just imagine the Voidbringers spritzing gentle perfume into the air

"It's Passion...by Odium"

“A new fragrance suffused with the sweet Thrill of vengeance”

Ah Venli you finally realize your error

Too late

Ah confirmation the possession isn't reversible, stapling souls to new corpses yikes

The Cosmere has quite of bit of body horror and stapling investiture to corpses doesn't it

Oh dear what is Odium planning for Venli

Assuming it is Odium but given Odium seems to like using a warm, ancient, paternal voice

As romantic as the resurrected with a life partner for thousands of years in an endless battle you hope to win is, you’re doing so by destroying others including ironically another romantic couple

Ugh Venli that is not a good thought process

Okay Venli is protecting the hopefully Eshonai spren there's hope

but really Venli you are a horrible person

Part III!

What shall the epigraphs be this time

Hurrah we're back to Kaladin pov although I'll miss the Bridge Four povs

Part one feels like ages ago

Oh yay it's the musical gem library!

So Stonewards are self sacrificing?

Yeah the Stormfather whimpering is really disconcerting

Having the example of Ruin makes me wonder exactly how omniscient Odium is 

Ooo the potential for city hopping without going through Urithiru

Dalinar: Oh by the way Kaladin you're a landowner.

Deathbend river though doesn’t seem like the best labeled real estate

Kaladin's busy training the Windrunners he really doesn't need the responsibility of landlord as well

So Dalinar has a connection to each of the three Rosharan Shards. Odium from his dependence on the Thrill, Cultivation through his deal with the Nightwatcher, and Honor through bonding the Stormfather. Feel like that is going to be significant.

Yeah the downside of the Alethi being in the Shattered Plains or Urithiru-they were storming easy to conquer for a martial nation. Admittedly the Kholinar riots didn't help.

I love Thaylen city already this is my aesthetic...except it's horrifically in ruins

I'm sad about this city

Aww these gems are records of people's lives, records of people being people that's really heartwarming

Huh wonder why this chapter is called Bondsmith

I want to go on this tour

"It was a pity to see several statues with the faces broken off"

Will we ever solve the mystery of miss art defacer from that one interlude who’s probably Khriss

Heh Dalinar wants to go on the swords tour instead but I feel those would be well guarded from the Blackthorn especially

Huh uncertain Everstorm effects definitely would mess with planning and precautionary measures but I wonder if there's something more cunning going on with targeting

Also a storm of burning embers ouch

How is Shinovar doing I feel like the Everstorm really should be a problem for them

Ugh Taravangian is here too bleh

I love Queen Fen

Dalinar there are other options than punching people

Dalinar: I have a plan!

Navani: Does it involve punching people?

Dalinar: I have no plan.

Ironic that Taln's temple has the cave in

Or intentional huh

Dalinar I don't think this is how diplomacy works

Well that is extra

Especially the bit with shoving in the sword further

That was pretty cool but yeah making people fear you as some sort of quasi immortal being with eldritch magic not great

The spren of the temple is in pain?

Ohhhh

We're going to see full Bondsmith abilities

Radiance used for civilization and healing, not terror

Repairing buildings damaged by war and storm that is one useful skill I love this

Wonder if any other orders can do that cause that’s really helpful and Bondsmiths are so few

Yes thanks for remembering you have a magical healer

"My son does the more important work" yeah Renarin appreciation!

But the magically rebuilding a city including symbolic parts

Aaaaa

"Once the soul grows accustomed to the wound, it's much harder to fix" I kind of knew that but only thought of it in the extreme identity case, and didn’t consider recently dealt wounds might be easier to heal than several day old wounds cause you’d think the healing process would have started and it would take less energy to finish

Huh Dalinar almost got a communication Connection?

Yeah person talking into the recording gem I'm worried about Truthwatchers too

Who is on the infiltration team?

Ah Skar and Drehy for the Windrunners I'm so proud of Skar

I'm concerned that they can't wear Plate even if it wouldn't be great for subterfuge

Summonable Plate will be lovely when we get it

Who is the maidservant? Ishnah?

Kaladin, Shallan smiles because of unhealthy coping mechanisms

Syl stop it not a healthy match

You don't need romance to be happy Syl

I am really concerned about the wrongness in Kholinar

Of course it's right by the Oathgate