#the censoring in one of the pictures is just me covering up his real name | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

m1ckeyb3rry · 1 day

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LMAOAOA everytime I see a censored name of the length I’m gonna assume it’s him (also unrelated but while we’re taking abt your other posts if tumblr did that to me while I was responding to you id lowk shit myself because we yap sm)

Kalos yuki supremacy….but LMAO tabieita really start slandering him like there’s no tomorrow and then the next day they see him on national tv next to Chris Prince cue their jaws dropping onto the floor

HAHAH omg a personal twt filter i need one sometimes the stuff that ends up on my feed is batshit insane like why’s James Charles here ok but wait now that you say it being called aiku sounds wrong because my first association with him is womanizer not captain of the u20 team and top notch defender HSSBHA (says a lot about aiku)

STOP I READ THAT IN A SOUTHERN ACCENT WITH THE WILD WEST MUSIC AUTOMATICALLY PLAYING but imagine everytime Reo sees a psychic type now he’s on guard like “shit are they reading my mind” (wait speaking of I forgot to mention this like three responses ago but I relatively recently (in terms of how long I’ve known pokemon) figured out reasoning behind psychic advantages/disadvantages, it’s weak to everything that’s a common fear (bug dark ghost) and effective against fighting and poison because of the “mind over matter” mentality)

LMAOO (is there an actual term for this I could’ve sworn there might’ve been but if not I’m just coining consciousness consultants instead) not only is it tabieita in every universe I guess it’s aibarou (this name…..aiba?? Baraiku?? These are all ass airou???????) PLEASE it would be funny if reader instead said “no way I know another one too! Can’t believe there’s three of us”

IGAGURI X READER IM DYINGGGF LMAOOO second arc new characters this is the boruto of the miraverse pokemon au (instead of pursuit its chase) tell me why i created that exact picture of grandpa nagi in my mind

IM CRUIGNFNFNFJSHAHA THAT WHOLE ASS DRAWING I HAD TO STOP MYSELF FROM SCREAMING IN PUBLIC THIS JS A MASTERPIECE (you’ll progressively see all of my words become caps at some point I guarantee the more we chat the more I’ll use caps) ok but HOUNDOOMS SO CUTE?? The tail wag has me crying ok but where’s gyarados…./j Barou’s hair is MAJESTIC please include this in the epilogue im gonna go frame this in my room

Ok wait SPEAKING OF VISUALS have you ever considered designing their fits….like yk how pokemon characters have a very kinda unique sense of style that fits the series? And ofc specialty trainers usually dress accordingly but imagine like pulling up one of those piccrew generators and yk….

LAMAO FR imagine instead phanpy actually managed to evolve while they’re out and Karasu just facepalms like who tf is this (as if he’s recognizable with his hair down) and readers just like my phanpy evolved!! Thanks!!

LMAOA I’m kinda imagining it’s like Misty’s psyduck except they’re both like that HAHAH stop now I’m getting hyped up for the side stories omg air yuki Aryu styling shenanigans!!! I read that as “yuki taking Aryu to get groomed at first” HSHSHSHSS anyways!! No because imagine hiori finally walks out of the safari zone like covered in mud like “phew finally that Kangaskhan was MAD” only to see half his team missing like “wait where’s swanna nidoqueen and aurorus…” cue the Jurassic park sfx that’s aurorus screaming from in the safari zone and hioris like “oh ffs” and runs back in LMAOO tabieita boy failures so real if it’s not Karasu taking an L it’s otoya ok when you first said side story one of my first ideas was yayoi Karasu childhood interactions great minds think alike

HSHSSHSH I kinda had a feeling your post was referencing our convo but I was kinda hoping not because we write sm LMAOO I’m thinking about it now and I think id lose my mind CHRIS ORINCE FANBOY OTOYA WAIT DO IT imagine it’s like todo going to that (shit I forgot her name) idols meet and greet but instead it’s otoya HAHSAHAJ

Aiku helping his teammates relieve stress (according to him) but he’s the one becoming stress instead now so he’s taking it out on everyone LMAOO pause do we have an ewc…(estimated word count)

HAHSHAHA I’m also pursuit brain rotted I’m so committed to the story now it’s not even funny

Wait…pokemon based theme to foreshadow/drop hints about pursuit (not story wise just that it exists LMAO) WAITTTTT “choose your starter and get a fic/drabble/hc(idk wtv floats your boat LMAO)” idk abt the details of what starter means what but that’s a thought for later

ISAGIS SEXY COUSIN GOODBYE but so real for that HSBSHS omg wait I bet there’s probably some edits alr floating around with the crumbs we got via that trailer

HAHSBA THE USA EAGLE SCREECH YES LMFOAOA (THIS FAR??? I’d give up /j tumblr needs a better save feature or just a not delete feature) wait..you’re right….do we even get any feather aura until nel??? Because I wonder how many people end up putting two and two together and figure out that his name means crow

Mira alpha wolf era LMAOOO BUT FR I’ve never seen a really atrocious scene of nagi (except for maybe second selection after they beat Barou and he flops onto the top bunk his face looked kinda funky but wtv it was a silly moment) so very excited!!! I’m also worried for Barou LANAO but wait the hair down scene in the trailer!! Can’t wait for more of that (Karasu when)

NOOO YOUR GOOD I would fr just jump back in your inbox and be like “I need five business days to recover from this sorry” /j and I’m ngl my memory is so ass that sometimes when you respond to things I have to scroll all the way back up to my own ask to remember what we’re talking about HSHSSHSH so trust me if you don’t remember neither do I

Also wait Kaiser in pokemon has me crying banned because he pointed a gun at ash BYE LMFAOA

- Karasu anon

LMAOOO 90% of the time *** ****** is sae the other 10% it’s rin but i feel like given context you’ll be mostly able to figure out which one it is?? i think i’m in an enemies to lovers w sae or smth so i post abt him more KRJFJSJS only other *** ****** in bllk is reo but i love him i’d never censor him 😩

KALOS YUKI MY MAN also omg wait that’s so funny especially because otoya is a prince stan so it’s basically yuki just flexing because he can FJDJFJSJ like “oh you want to bully me??? your hero is my father figure 😜😴🤫” he’s actually so sassy but in an underrated way i love him

HELP because whenever oaeu aiku goes on one of his tangents abt how he’s the captain of the u20s i giggle like ok sure bro (love how this implies i don’t have control over oaeu aiku tbh i don’t i just sit at the keyboard and let his spirit flow through me and suddenly i have 3k words of aiku bullying everyone in his mind)

YESSS THAT’S EXACTLY THE VIBE I WAS GOING FOR like reo tullia nagi and reader wearing the little cowboy hats and everything LDJFSJAJ nagi chewing on a piece of wheatgrass i’m crying 😭 omg no because reo deadass thinks reader and her aegislash are like this tik tok (i always have a tik tok on hand) so he’s just like vaguely terrified of her LMAOAOA nagi’s too lucky she’s not outing him the way he outed reo 😩 reader >>>>

CAN THEIR DUO NAME BE SHOELIVER 😭😭😭😭🤩🤩🤩🤩 pronounced like shoe-liver (english pronunciations even though barou’s name is said more like sho-ei) HAHAHA never separated fr those two have an unbreakable bond 🙏🏻 help because i could actually see reader saying that like “damn didn’t know there were so many mega houndooms roaming around??” the only reason i can think that she’d realize aiku means barou is because this arc takes place after reader and nagi go through and watch all of barou’s old league battles so she knows barou is the only other person w a mega houndoom 😩

HELPP PURSUIT BORUTO I’M CRYING deadass though it could be niko as the bug catcher just imagine that mf with a spewpa 😭 for extra connectedness (never watched naruto/boruto but isn’t it like everyone is just someone’s son or smth) maybe his spewpa is tullia’s vivillon’s offspring LFJDSJS although ig niko is kinda shy too…hold on niko as aiku’s apprentice (like the oaeu) still with tullia’s vivillon’s baby, kurona just chilling and probably with like a wailord or smth, nagiy/n’s daughter with her mother’s aegislash, and kiyora as yukimiya’s successor (since he’s a dancer and all) nagiy/n’s daughter sees kiyora and is like “WOAH you look JUST like my brother but blue” HAHAHA and then wait tbh CHARLES could be the bug catcher and maybe shidou is his mentor??? i’m crying just imagine that wedding like the groom’s side is shidou partying it up (he probably dragged sae over from fucking johto or whatever region the itoshis live in) meanwhile the bride’s side is like former champion y/n l/n, former king of kalos kenyu yukimiya, flying type gym leader tabito karasu (“uncle tabito” on her mom’s side), famous breeder tullia ferraro, corporation heir reo mikage (“uncle reo” on her dad’s side), lazy hero seishiro nagi who was the face of the efforts against team x (reader was injured and he’s the one who rescued all of the trainers while she was battling barou so he got a lot of fame), fucking otoya?? no title for him (he insists on being called big o by the kids) and renowned pokémon professor oliver aiku…literally ALL of them are lowkey judging shidou except aiku who’s like hell yeah this is great LMAOAOA

I WAS CRYINGGG MAKING THE DRAWING pls barou’s hair cracked me up second only to mr mikage’s mario ass mustache 😭 i feel like nagiy/n’s daughter would def view houndoom as just a cute cuddly puppy since that’s how houndoom treats her hence why houndoom doesn’t have any of the skull motifs or the devil tail instead she’s just giving cutie puppy (also lowkey she probably combined houndoom and nagi’s arcanine into one dog shaped pokémon since i know for a FACT that arcanine was the number one stan of those children 😩) PLS I TRIED DRAWINF GYARADOS AND GAVE UP I’M NOT ARTISTICALLY INCLINED

LMAOO so i do have clear visions of what otoya and karasu wear so i tried drawing them (also in my mind chigiri just wears tan riding pants, a rugby shirt, and riding boots since he’s an ex racer but that’s basic enough that i didn’t draw it) obviously they look silly because a) i can’t draw and b) they’re meant to be goofy pokémon verse fits but here they are!!

^ also in my mind karasu’s coat and pants are the same purpley black as his hair/honchkrow’s feathers (both for aesthetic and to distinguish him from aiku who wears a white lab coat as all professors do) but i did not feel like coloring that anyways the gist as you can see is otoya = black turtleneck + black pants + black boots probably (not skin tight necessarily but def more fitted to not get in his way when he’s doing ninja bs) whereas karasu has this long coat to kind of match the bird vibe?? also he’s almost always wearing the super heavy duty falconing gloves especially when the birds are babies because they love perching on his arm and yayoi drilled into him how much it hurts when a raptor with enormous talons divebombs onto your unprotected wrist 😭 anyways no idea what the others might wear i’ll probably try to figure it out during their introductions (also like i said excuse the artistic skills this was more meant for me to have as a visual while writing but since you asked i thought i’d share LDJFSJSJSJ)

PLSSS I CAN IMAGINE THE HIORI ONE SO WELL i feel like the yuki + aryu one would be rlly cute we could see more of gagamaru in it too…pls karasu and otoya are consistently embarrassing themselves one or the other must be taking l’s at all times it’s just equilibrium 😭 imagine otoya’s like whatever you do DON’T act like nagi that man has negative rizz and karasu’s like “well he pulled y/n ya know…” and otoya’s like “yeah wtvr she’s crazy” JFKDJDNS they slander reader and tullia sm as if they are not literally the walking definition of losers??

OTOYA AT A CHRIS PRINCE MEET AND GREET PLEASE I’M CRYING AT THE VISUALLLL he would be the one who’s like “he shook my hand i’m never washing it again” and karasu’s like bro??? help omg ik which one you’re talking about…doesn’t the idol end up liking mai more??? imagine otoya brings karasu with him and chris prince ends up loving karasu like “wow you’re yayoi’s little brother?? you have a lot of potential!!” and otoya’s in the background like THAT SHOULD BE MEEEE

i think the barou version is probably going to end up at about the same length as the sae one!! we’re at 3k ish words rn and reader is just about to meet barou soooo there’s that 😭 this one is even more ridiculous than the sae version (aiku and niko kidnap barou) but i feel like barou lends himself to crack really well and barou fans are probs less picky so i think it’s okay (also PERSONALLY i find it funny and that’s all that matters fr)

nah because we’re coming up with pursuit boruto version atp it’s like a separate fandom /hj i’m actually really excited to write it!! just need to get on my grind for a bit and then we will get to pursuit hehe

THAT’S WHAT I WAS THINKING like maybe each type is a certain trope/theme and people have to find a pokémon that has the typing they want and send it in with the character they want…like say fire is best friends to lovers and flying is angst so someone could say “talonflame with karasu” or smth and i’d write an angsty best friends to lovers fic for him ykwim…it would require more effort on participant’s parts but considering i’ll probably limit it anyways and given how involved my request responses tend to be i think it’s fair and fun!! wait i could limit it to be like “help me build a pokémon team” and only have a certain number of slots available for the team or smth and that way i don’t get quite as many reqs as i did for the 500 event so i still have free time to write my own stuff

BRO I FR JUST STARED AT MY SCREEN i’m like obsessively saving the draft now…anyways he’s literally giving isagi but cuntier (sorry to isagi fans but karasu >>>>) LMAOAAO I NEED TO SEE HIM W THE EAGLE SCREECH yk that one crow panel of him in bm vs pxg like that panel SPECIFICALLY timed with the screech it’s a must

hair down barou 🤤🤤🤤 nah because call me reo the way i’m nagi’s number one glazer /j i’ve seen SOOO much nagi hate online recently it’s crazy i know the dude bros will start waffling on abt his comeback as soon as they remember what nagi’s built like again 😭 everyone on tumblr’s posting abt how reo’s getting blamed for nagi’s downfall erm i haven’t seen a single post blaming him…i’ve seen posts saying reo isn’t a player who they’d necessarily pick as top ten in the verse which i can see…the argument is that his best position is as a sub because he can fill any spot but why put someone who can only copy an ability to 99% in a position when you can just put the og 100% there…kinda like how reo can copy sae to 99% but no one would pick reo over sae even though reo’s technically more complete 🤔 i think copy’s one of those abilities that would be op if reo was the mc but as it is i do somewhat agree that reo is better suited as a substitute given the way the manga is written even though he’s also quite talented BUT that’s not really reo hate that’s just examining decisions kaneshiro’s made?? i see a lotttt of people slandering nagi though and saying he’ll never come back and that he sucks even though he made the goal of the century…ik ego said the five revolver whatever the fuck it’s called is not reproducible but honestly i feel like that’s kind of nagi’s thing?? he consistently pulls off impossible goals which he could never do again but that’s just how he works (and why prince said he needs to work on his creativity…if he could just be the kind of player who can use his insane talent to pull off crazy plays wherever he is the way he was doing in second selection he’d be undefeatable)

wait i just went on an entire rant abt nagi slander but this edit makes me lol so i can’t even be mad KEFJSJKS HIS FACE KILLS ME 😭😭😭

kaiser in pokémon is literally just kaiser in bllk bro WOULD point a revolver at isagi ash i’m crying LMAOAAO

nah i fear i did crash out but luckily it didn’t delete my ENTIRE response so it’s all good!! HAHAAH yeahhh sometimes i have to close the draft and go back to our old convos because i’m like “wait what is this in reference to”

#answered asks #pokémon au

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scottymcgeesterwrites · 3 years

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A Guide to the Best Editions and Translations of Some Classic Literature

TWENTY THOUSAND LEAGUES UNDER THE SEA BY JULES VERNE

IMPORTANT: Whatever you do, DO NOT BUY the edition translated by Lewis Mercier. In fact, NEVER buy any translation of ANYTHING by Lewis Mercier. Mercier’s translation is unfortunately the most “standard” and popular translation. This translation is said to have removed about 20-25% of the original novel, and also removes a lot of Verne’s original meaning. In short, it was a botched translation that somehow became very popular and accessible up until the 1970′s, but always still check for before buying. Barnes and Noble still has his translation lying around for sale.

If the name of the translator isn’t on the cover or back cover of the book, you can check the first few pages where they write the publication history. It might be in fine print. Frankly, any translation that is NOT by Lewis Mercier is good. The pictures I have attached here are of the edition I bought published by The Franklin Library. It was translated by Mendor T. Brunetti. It also includes the original illustrations, which is cool.

THE HOLY BIBLE

Oof. This one can get really dicey. But I’ll explain it the best I can. There have been dozens of translations of the Bible, if not hundreds. Not everyone uses the same one, especially evangelical groups like Pentecostals and Jehovah’s Witnesses. These more radical groups have willingly altered the Bible to further their views. So, a Bible that a Jehovah’s Witness holds is not the same Bible that a Roman Catholic priest holds. The King James Bible (KJV, or King James Version) has often been considered the most popular version of The Bible throughout modern history. Many of the Bible’s most memorable quotes are directly taken from the King James Bible. It’s considered dignified, poetic, and beautiful. It’s also wrong. So very, very wrong. It’s quite possibly the worst translation of the Bible ever made. I grew up in Catholic school and even there we never once touched the King James Bible. The problems with the King James Bible include certain “theological biases” (i.e. implying Jesus appeared somewhere when he didn’t) and all-around bad translations (i.e. it says there were unicorns but the real meaning is supposed to say “horned beasts”) (see ReligionForBreakfast). The other annoying thing about the King James Bible is that quotation marks are not used. This can be very confusing for readers as it becomes unclear who is speaking. If you’re curious to see how an exact literal translation of the Bible into English goes, check out the Interlinear Bible. It has the original Hebrew and Greek text with the English words underneath (or besides). You will quickly realize just how complicated translating the Bible is, as Hebrew does not have many words. The English prose in the Interlinear Bible therefore can read like gibberish.

If you want to read the Bible with as close to the original intent and meaning as possible while also being readable, then go for the New American Standard Bible. It can still be a bit difficult to read though. The current popular edition is the New Revised Standard Version. This newer edition from 1989 is considered the most neutral of all translations, as it does not hold any denominational bias. The translators even placed gender-neutral words, such as “people” instead of “mankind”.

FRANKENSTEIN BY MARY SHELLEY

The original 1818 text by Mary Shelley has been given more spotlight as of late. The text that we are most commonly familiar with from 1831 had the story toned down because of course it would be scandalous for a woman to write about such things at the time. Mary Shelley had suffered critical outrage and pressure for editorial changes from her husband Percy for her original vision. For the 1831 edition, she was forced to edit the novel so that Dr. Frankenstein would be a more moral character, whereas the original Dr. Frankenstein in the 1818 text did not go through much moralizing.

Penguin Books recently released an affordable edition of the 1818 text.

THE THREE MUSKETEERS BY ALEXANDRE DUMAS

There are numerous translations but I want to highlight the one I read by Richard Pevear. This made the story very readable while also remaining faithful to the story. Pevear didn’t censor Dumas’s original meanings at all like previous translations did for their time. I thoroughly enjoyed his translation and was lucky enough to get the hardcover of his first edition back in the day. My mom completely surprised me by buying that book for me, and it ended up happening to be the best translation. The best thing about Pevear’s edition is that it includes footnotes for archaic terms. The original hardcover of Pevear’s edition is difficult to find by now, but his translation has been re-released by other publishers. As of a few years ago, a new translation by Lawrence Ellsworth has been released. I have not read that one but have heard good things. The publishers of the Ellsworth translation have also been republishing ALL of the Musketeer stories to provide a series of consistent editions, which has always been rare for the Musketeer saga.

HOMER’S ODYSSEY, ILIAD, and VIRGIL’S AENEID

First off, read these epics in verse form. I cannot believe there are editions out that written in prose form. I’m sorry but that should be illegal. I grew up reading Robert Fagles’ translation, which is pretty damn good and is the standard in schools. However, also look for Richmond Lattimore’s translation. Lattimore translated The Odyssey and The Iliad in the original rhythm that Homer intended. Fagles wrote in freeform for the sake of being easier to read. Both translations retain the original meaning, so it’s up to you really what you prefer. As for The Aeneid (Lattimore only translated Greek classics), go with Fagles.

DON QUIXOTE BY MIGUEL DE CERVANTES

Read the translation by Edith Grossman. That’s all I can say. I devoured that book in days. Grossman did to Don Quixote what Pevear did to The Three Musketeers. It’s just that good and readable. Ormsby is the second-best, being the most scholarly of all translations. The translation is the most accurate but the humor can be dry and doesn’t pack the same punch as Cervantes probably intended. The translations to avoid like the plague are by Motteux, Smollett, and John Phillips. SHERLOCK HOLMES BY SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE

Surely, most people reading this have a copy of the Sherlock Holmes tales in one form or another. But which is the best? Every text out there is the same no matter the publication, but I prefer to read the way it was originally formatted with all the illustrations. The automatic assumption people might have is that all the original Sherlock Holmes stories were published in The Strand Magazine. This wasn’t the case. There were several stories published in other magazines at the time, such as A Study in Scarlet and The Sign of Four, to name a few. Therefore, if you find an edition boasting to have “all The Strand illustrations” it probably only has the stories that were published in The Strand Magazine. More confusing yet, some editions do say “All the Strand illustrations” but also include A Study in Scarlet and The Sign of Four. Keep in mind this magical number: 60 Sir Arthur Conan Doyle wrote a total of 56 short stories and 4 novels with Sherlock Holmes. If the copy you are holding does not add up to 60 stories, don’t bother. You might get a copy that comes in two or three volumes.

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qianoir · 3 years

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Divine Lies

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Guardian angel!Winwin (WayV) x human fem!reader

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: angst

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 13+

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cursing (censored), lying, stealing, cheating, family problems, mentions of death, mentions of suicide, mentions of self-harm, brief mention of sex, abandonment, blasphemy, reader is an implied only child

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.4K

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭: @staysstrays

Preview

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I have worked as a guardian with the style of Lucifer. “Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image,” I have reversed this commandment and given it life to a body of the soul I vowed to protect. Cast upon me a punishment, for I have wandered too far from your holy grail.

Si Cheng Dong, Guardian Angel #1028

Si Cheng knew you from the day you were born. You had marks dangling from your shoulder blades like the torn wings of an angel. He had asked God about the dainty marks, but He said his eyes must be tempted by the Demon of Trickery because no marks appeared to be decorating your back as he said. When he is assigned one of His children to protect, he knows nothing of God’s plan that is unique to every one person. His plan and your decisions were lived through Si Cheng’s eyes as well.

“What is behind your back?” Si Cheng interrogated your five year old self.

“Nothing…” He yanked your hands to unclasp, forcing them to drop the chocolate you had stolen from the convenient store you and your parents had just left.

“Your mother said you could not have this, yet you took it anyway and without paying. That is wrong.” You could only look with deceptively innocent eyes as your guardian took the sweet into the store, placing it back on the shelf you had tip-toed up to.

“Come on, Y/N dear.” Your mother called for you to follow her and your father to the car. There was no sight of Si Cheng, even when you had gotten into the car. Only a couple of miles from the store did he appear in the seat next to you. He looked over to see your closed mouth moving ever so slightly.

“What is in your mouth?” You shook your head and continued to chew slowly, trying to be as unapparent as possible. He continued to stare you down in silence, watching as you finally swallowed what he felt in his heart was something else that you stole. Breaking the intense eye contact, you turned around to look out of the car window. The ride was already silent, but a darkly mixed feel swam in your spine after Si Cheng’s next comment.

“Thou shalt not steal. You will be punished for that sin.”

...

As you blossomed into adulthood, the divine morals you had been taught by your covenant Christian parents seemed to have exited your mind. You were one of the top names of your college's Dean’s list, but the your personal out-of-school extracurriculars could mistake you for a completely different person. Your academic abilities were almost God-given, yet you showed Him no gratitude.

Si Cheng had been by your side to witness each time you strayed away from God. However, it was not his place to direct you back to Him, that choice was wholly your own. Each night since you turned 18, after reading his Bible out loud to you, he left for Heaven. You always told him that you would be in bed through the night, awaiting his return.

Those nights were spent sleeping through the day and partying at different clubs, downing bottles of red wine like a Black Christian. During one night out, you had thrown an empty bottle of Giuseppe Quintarelli into the unknown while walking out of the club; an incident you had forgotten until two police officers showed up on your doorstep with pictures from the club’s security cameras, portraying your indecent act.

Not much of the confrontation could be interpreted or remembered in your hazily hungover brain, but you do remember everything after you shouted a very pathetic “That’s not me!” because your hands were cuffed behind your waist and soon anxiously gripping the bars of the chair behind you at the station.

“What happened?” Si Cheng walked out of the wall when the police left you alone to discuss your charges.

“I forgot to pay for chocolate at the store today It's not—"

“Do not lie to me, Y/N.” You gave him silence. “How could you act in such a way?”

“If you know the answers, then why do you always ask questions?” The light from the interrogation room’s light kindled your eyes when you looked up at him, but you took unusual comfort in the pain.

“I’m trying to help you to understand your sins, but you never learn.”

“You could have stopped me, you’re my guardian ang—” “Yes and I am not you.” Si Cheng gripped the bridge of his nose before speaking again, “I protect you from unrighteous harm. Your actions have consequences with which I cannot interfere.”

Suddenly feeling very nauseous, you wretched forward, your cuffed hands gliding up your spine. A mix of drunken liquids racing from your throat, onto the floor and your distressed jeans. Si Cheng took your hair up, sitting behind you, rubbing your back when you failed to vomit and fearfully gagged.

He was ready to save you when he heard you starting to choke, but took your vulnerable soul into his arms when he realized you had started sobbing.

This was a normal occurrence for you two.

Every day, you would wake up thinking the thoughtless decision you had made the night prior was just a nightmare, but would fall apart when dealing with the consequences. Si Cheng would be there to comfort you and recite something religious that would travel a non-permeable route through your two ears. When you were back to feeling yourself— or what was left of yourself— you would sin again and lie to your guardian about it. Then Si Cheng would read you a bit of The Bible to sleep every night, for when morning comes, your morning s.hit would be on the sacred book once again.

“My back hurts…” You cried out. Si Cheng kept holding you.

“You tempt me.” Si Cheng announces as he waits for you to finish your nightly routine, Bible in hand. He decided to stop sleeping at his home in Heaven and would instead be wherever you were to take away the matches you light your fire with.

“Well I mean we don’t always have to pray when we’re in the bedroom.” The sleeping shirt takes its sweet time to cover your breasts before his angelic eyes.

“Not sexually.” Si Cheng rolls his eyes and chooses his next words carefully for your innuedic mind. “When you lie to me, I want so badly to tell you off. To make certain that no such fibs should ever fall from your lips again.”

“Sounds frustrating. Are you sure you don’t want to just go have sex?”

“The seed falling among the thorns refers to someone who hears the word, but the worries of this life and the deceitfulness of wealth choke the word, making it unfruitful.” Your guardian recited, ignoring your offer.

“The what now?”

“Matthew 13:22. Just because I hear the lies you tell, does not mean I should engorge in them by talking back or forcing you to be something you are not.”

“And what am I not again?”

“Holy.”

“D.amn straight.” Si Cheng huffed in exasperation of his inability to get through to you, opening his Bible once you settled in bed next to him. This was the final part of your nightly routine.

…

Si Cheng ended your nightly prayers. “We send this message to You in the name of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior. Amen.”

“I’m an atheist.” You say with your eyes already closed.

“How could you say that when I exist?”

“You’re not real. It’s all in my head because since the day I was born, I was not right. If God were real, he wouldn’t have made me this way.”

“You are not an atheist.” Your eyes open halfway.

“How can you decide what I am and what I am not?”

“You would not be so angry at God if you were an atheist. They are non-believers, not betrayers.”

…

The next morning, you wake up in an empty bed. Finally. There was no sign of Si Cheng along the walk from the bedroom, to the bathroom, to the hallway, down the stairs, or to the kitchen, where you sat down to enviously admire the dying rose bouquet trapped in a blue China vase.

The front door bursts open and in comes Si Cheng with two handfuls of goods you had mostly already bought. He walks to the dining table as soon as he spots you, laying out the groceries in front of you.

Angel Soft toilet paper, Angel food cake mix, a sack of Angelina plums, Victoria’s Secret Angel perfume, and a CD of Chancellor and TaeYeon’s “Angel.”

“What is all of this?”

“To remind you that angels are all around you. And we are sad that you do not wish to accept us.”

“Angels, always looking for human validation huh?” Si Cheng bites back his tongue at your passive comment.

“I also got you this.” Sicheng gingerly places a luxe Bible in your hands, with a grandiose “belonging to Y/N” engraved under “The Bible”, complimenting the gold edges of the dainty pages.

“I don’t want to read it.”

“Liar.”

“Excuse me?”

“I can tell the quality of it catches your eye and entices you to want to read. Humans, always wanting the most or nothing at all.” Si Cheng savors the way you glare at him sideways for his mirrored comeback to your insult.

“Let us read it in the bedroom before starting our day.” And you don’t know if you are too tired or desperate or want him to shut up with this religious nonsense, but you go up to the bedroom with him anyway.

“It doesn’t make any sense, Si Cheng! Why would God make me just to torment me? After everything I have done to d.amn myself and spite Him, how could he ever take me as one of His own children?”

You sat in the bathtub, soaking in a mixture of the darkest red wine and gasoline, the color staining the tub and your skin with the darkest black, the color making the markings on your back more defined than ever.

For the past hour, you had been threatening to end it all and managed to rope the divine being into the most intense argument. His hands gripped your arms to keep you from going under, but could not even begin to think about pulling you out with the ear piercing screams you let out between comebacks.

Despite his greatest efforts, Si Cheng had to admit that he was never able to help you get back on a good path. “I am going to Hell and you can’t save me. He has failed both me and you”

“He has failed neither me nor you. How dare you speak of the Heavenly Father in such vulgar form.” His anger rose and teeth tried not to bare animalistically behind his lips. In a way, you were right and Si Cheng knew this. He had been the cause of such deathly marks to appear on your back in response to the resentment building up in his heart to have to wake and sleep with your sins.

“Then show me! Take me to God and show me that he is real. Let me hear from Him that He wants me for good and not for sport.” Your body weighted his hands down as the stinging in your back made you lightheaded.

“He has told you. Your entire life, He has told you. He speaks through me and I am one of his most trusted children.” Still desperately trying to pull you up, Si Cheng could not focus on saving you and controlling the pain he was unconsciously inflicting on your flesh.

“You are not God. You are just an angel who has disappointed Him, like me.”

“We are not alike.” Si Cheng’s grasp unravelled from your arms, letting them sink back under the black liquid.

“You are a sinful woman.”

“Where are you going?” You screeched at him, trying to fight your back from folding itself. Tears were now falling without control as you realized you had really done it this time.

“Heaven. See you there.”

The pain suddenly halted. Si Cheng left and another angel entered. Upon seeing your body partially submerged in Christ’s Blood and Devil’s fuel, he lifted you from the tub and rid you from the onyx glaze. He never spoke a word to you for the rest of your life by your side.

And you could only assume that it was because “The seed falling among the thorns refers to someone who hears the word, but the worries of this life and the deceitfulness of wealth choke the word, making it unfruitful.” (Matthew 13:22)

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟖. 𝟗𝟖 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫.

“Happy birthday, Number 1028!” A party hat was forced onto Sicheng’s head by Archangel of Love Number 6, poking through his halo like a cloudy mountain.

“Hey! It’s my birthday, too!” Archangel of Birth Number 1028 pouted at being one-upped by his Brother in Christ.

“Yes, but it’s Guardian Angel Number 1028’s birthday.” Number 6 clarifies, using his title to mockingly signify importance.

“Such social hierarchy is hellish! This is Heaven!”

“Right, it is finally the year you are no longer banned from Earth and can be a guardian again!” The angels gather around Si Cheng to "ooh" at his year of redemption.

“It is my loyal duty to serve God with the occupation he gifts me.” He dismisses their awe with words of loyalty to his creator.

“She is ready.” His Heavenly Father calls for His Guardian Angel Number 1028 to meet his valuable assignment.

When he walks into the incubation room, Si Cheng is met with the eery feeling of deja vu. A disheartening sense of nostalgia washes over him as well. Then he sees a design on the fertilized egg in the incubator.

Those marks.

The scarring on the biological sphere are like vents that send the aromas of Giuseppe Quintarelli and Diesel gasoline to his nose.

Si Cheng suddenly could no longer feel the comfort of his halo, fear zapped through him as he could feel evil beings tempting him through all four walls of the incubation room instead. Light burning aches and agonizing pains danced along his back.

His vision went black and his mind regressed to 9 months before this October day, 118 years ago. The Heavenly Father took his body, that was wrapped up in his mother’s egg and his father’s sperm, into His hands and placed him next to yours, both of your fertilized compartments looking like identical twins.

“You have much still to learn, my son.”

*Black Christian = A Christian who betrays God, like Archangel Lucifer betraying Jesus and becoming Satan.

𝘲𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘪𝘳

#wayv x reader #wayv imagines #wayv angst #nct x reader #nct imagines #nct angst #winwin x reader #winwin imagines #winwin angst #qianoir

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froggyphevoli · 3 years

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How I Accidentally Made My Friends Fall in Love With an Abandoned Can of Coors Light

On November 2nd, 2021, I came across something rather odd as I was leaving work.

I decided to take a photo of it (shown above) and posted it to Facebook with the following caption:

It’s… It’s just sitting there. On the sidewalk. Unopened. Is it a trap?

I received several comments on that post. I’ll put a few of my favorite examples below.

The Fae are getting creative

Talk about “thirst trap”!!!! 😬 I’ll see myself out…

Totally a trap probably glued to the ground…LOL

[A gif of Admiral Ackbar saying “It’s a trap!”]

To my surprise, the can was still there the following morning, so I made another Facebook post:

Day 2: That Coors Light is still there, still on the same spot on the sidewalk, and still unopened. I took a more “scenic” picture this time so you can see that it’s right outside where I work.

(Note: Full disclosure, the above photo is edited from the one I originally posted. I censored out the sign because I’m publishing this publicly and don’t want Internet strangers knowing where I work.)

This one received a few comments as well, but nothing extremely noteworthy. The day after that was when shit really started to get real.

Day 3: I have decided to name the can Rocky. Today, Rocky moved, but not very far. Perhaps he just wanted to hang out somewhere a little comfier? He remains unopened.

Day 3 marked not only the first time our subject moved, but also the moment the newly named Rocky became personified. My friends had a lot to say this time; once again, I’ll put my favorite comments below.

Go home Rocky!! You drunk!

Also I’m completely invested in this!! [posted by same person who posted the comment above]

I feel like I want to bring a little Blankey over and cover Rocky up. We have all been there. So invested.

This whole saga is weirdly compelling.

I’m cracking up…and totally curious as to what tomorrow will bring to our dear rocky.

I had obviously created a monster, but now I was committed. The next morning, I stopped by Rocky’s spot on my way in to work, eager to share his latest update with his adoring fans.

You can imagine my disappointment when Rocky was nowhere to be found.

I looked all around the grassy area in case he had just rolled a bit, but I soon had to admit defeat. I quickly made a post on Facebook announcing that Rocky was gone, and thanking everyone for embarking on his journey with me. Had he been thrown away by a well-meaning Samaritan? Had he been drank by a homeless person? Had he left town to go pursue his modeling career? I thought that we would never know.

And then I entered my place of work, and was met with a most wonderful surprise.

Rocky was alive!!!

I then got rid of my previous Facebook post and made a new one, featuring the above photo and the below caption:

Day 4, amended: I deleted my post from a few minutes ago announcing Rocky’s disappearance. Right after I posted it, I went inside, and look who I found sitting on my desk! 🤣🤣🤣

And of course, my ridiculous friends delivered with their comments:

Start a ‘go fund me’ for the support of raising Rocky. Tell your story and I just know people will donate. After all, Rocky was adopted and brought in from a life of neglect and potentially harsh conditions.

Had me all tore up for a second..glad Rocky is safe.

I couldn’t really keep a can of beer at my work desk, and now that things had gotten this far I didn’t want to put Rocky back where I originally found him, so I had to make a decision. It wasn’t a very difficult decision.

Day 5: Hot damn, look at Rocky living his best life! He got a makeover AND a girlfriend!

I had originally planned not to interfere in Rocky’s journey, but once he appeared on my desk, I knew I had to bring him home. He and Cakelyn are now living happily on top of our kitchen cabinets.

(For those curious how I got the sunglasses on him, it was just super glue.)

My friends were pleased:

I’m so glad they’ve found love and companionship.

Love wins!💓

So Rocky got his happy ending. I haven’t posted any updates since, because I’m not really sure where to take the story from here, but I think that last one made for a better finale than any of us could have predicted. Until my mysterious coworker intervened, I just assumed that this story would end with Rocky vanishing one day and there would be no closure involved. As silly as this entire ordeal was, I’m relieved that that wasn’t the case.

If this nonsense doesn’t prove what a great storyteller I am, I don’t know what will!

#Coors Light #anthropormorphizing #I know you guys hate personal posts but this one is pretty funny #Rocky the Coors Light #Rocky the beer can #Rocky #Froggy Phevoli #is this the real life?

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passionate-reply · 4 years

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Are you tired of Great Albums being about music people have actually heard of? Do you want me to just go ape shit, and review obscure minimal wave cassettes from the 80s? Admittedly, Oppenheimer Analysis’s New Mexico is one of the most famous weird minimal wave cassettes, and for good reason: it actually holds up quite well as an album! Come check out what all the fuss is about. Transcript below the break.

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! Today, I’ll be talking about a very cultish cult classic, and an album that’s one of the definitive works in the very underground scene of so-called “minimal wave”: New Mexico, the only full album released by the duo “Oppenheimer Analysis.” The band’s namesake was actually lead vocalist Andy Oppenheimer, who became acquainted with instrumentalist Martin Lloyd at the 1979 World Science Fiction Convention, where the pair bonded over speculative fiction, Midcentury graphic design and propaganda, and the work of early British electronic pioneers like the Human League. 1982’s New Mexico was these two’s first recording as a group, but Lloyd did go into it with one credit--the year prior, he and David Rome of Drinking Electricity released a double A-side, featuring the jumpy, playful instrumentals “Surface Tension'' and “Connections.” They referred to their act as “Analysis,” making it feel very much a part of the Oppenheimer Analysis story.

Music: “Surface Tension”

Oppenheimer, meanwhile, was a true outsider artist, making a living as a nuclear science writer without any substantive musical background. While not all minimal wave is “outsider music,” and not all electronic outsider music is minimal wave, there’s certainly a correlation there. Oppenheimer’s reedy, somewhat strained voice lends New Mexico the punkish charm that only utterly untrained vocalists can offer: a vessel that cracks and buckles as it fails to contain the raw emotion within.

Music: “Martyr”

The addition of a singer is one major distinction between New Mexico and Lloyd’s earlier compositions, but they’re also very different in tone. As I said earlier, the “Analysis” instrumentals are sort of light-hearted and sprightly, a bit reminiscent of the jazzy synth experiments of artists like Jean-Jacques Perrey and Gershon Kingsley. New Mexico is substantially darker and more gothic, as befitting an LP that’s at least partially a concept album about the nuclear age.

Music: “The Devil’s Dancers”

While nuclear anxiety is an indispensable theme of the album, it’s never a suffocating one that makes it feel horribly antiquated to modern ears. It’s a very aestheticized rumination on nuclear themes, that never jumps up and hollers, “bombs are bad!” Take, for example, the track “Radiance,” probably the best-known track on New Mexico...to the extent that any of them are that well-known. It’s one of the album’s most languorous, atmospheric moments, and paints a vividly desolate picture of ground zero after a detonation, with its fluttering, delicate, but ultimately frigid synth flourishes.

Music: “Radiance”

I think my favourite part of “Radiance” is actually its lyrical turn: an atomic blast isn’t like the radiance of a thousand suns, but rather, vice versa. The latter is the one that’s merely theoretical and dwells in the realm of poetic license, whereas the former is a historical fact that we all have to contend with. “Radiance” is quite solid, but in many ways it’s a pale imitation of the title track, a seven-minute sprawl that works exquisitely as a kind of musical landscape painting:

Music: “New Mexico”

Painfully evocative, with an eerie, almost yearning undercurrent, “New Mexico” is easily the track that feels the most grand and epic. I would really have loved for it to be given more of a place of honour in the tracklisting, possibly as the closing track, but it’s wedged somewhat awkwardly in the middle of the second side. I suppose we can’t expect quite as much from a gonzo underground mail-order cassette release, though. At any rate, while “Radiance” and “New Mexico” are absolutely about atom bombs, they remain very emotionally intimate--almost torturously so. A lot of the other tracks are less about the bomb itself, and more about the rise of “Big Science” in the Midcentury consciousness in the wake of the Second World War--chiefly, “Men In White Coats.”

Music: “Men In White Coats”

As in “The Devil’s Dancers,” Oppenheimer happily accepts the role of an evil or insidious narrator here, and sells us this megalomaniacal perspective with aplomb. A lot of early 80s synth, minimal wave and otherwise, is characterized by more deadpan vocalists, but I can’t stress enough how much Oppenheimer’s piercing lead vocals bring to this album. It’s perhaps the most critical on the tracks that delve into more traditionally emotional topics--chiefly, the standard romantic love numbers. Take, for instance, the harrowing, neurotic “Scorpions”:

Music: “Scorpions”

I’m certainly a fan of the title “New Mexico,” which just ties together all the right connotations. First and foremost, New Mexico is a place--a place you can visit. And this is one of those albums that really wants to ground you in a narrow and specific sense of place, a sonic landscape. New Mexico is mostly empty desert, large tracts of which have been government land even before it started being used more intensively for military research in the 20th Century...most famously, of course, on nuclear weapons. I like to think that the name also suggests novelty and recency of place. We are, after all, entering a “new” world, defined by the advances of science, and the upending of earlier ideas about the world.

The representation of the album art for New Mexico that I’ve been showing you is actually the imagery of the 2010 reissue of the album, which I’ve chosen because I think it’s a bit better known, and I simply prefer it, personally. The most striking thing about it is this colour--a ghostly green, that instantly evokes the common imagery of atomic phenomena. Radiation doesn’t really glow green, of course, but, like everything else about the album, it’s clear that this choice is meant to be a reflection upon the greater cultural imaginings and social impact of the Atomic Age, so I think it’s a perfect fit. At the center of the composition, we see a figure, head bowed and face shaded to provide some sense of anonymity, reaching a hand towards the side of his face in a gesture that’s almost reminiscent of using a cell phone at first glance. What exactly he’s up to is as unclear as his identity. Between the modernist styling of the architecture to his left, and his antiquated attire, the image is quite suggestive of a Midcentury setting. But the real narrative angle here comes from the right side--several figures are approaching that central character, possibly in hostile pursuit. Espionage gone wrong? A desperate attempt to silence a whistle-blower? Much like the music, there’s an ambiguous, mysterious, but also menacing ambiance to this cover.

For historicity’s sake, I’ll also discuss the original cover of the homemade cassettes of New Mexico. As we might expect from the nature of this release, it’s a fairly simple graphic, featuring a nude woman whose full-figured body type, popular on pin-up models, and short hairstyle convey that Midcentury aesthetic almost as well as her clothed counterpart on the reissue. Our eyes are naturally drawn to her exposed breasts, where they meet a pair of radiation warning signs censoring her nipples. A simple image, but a deeply perverse or twisted one. Is it a kind of union between the vulgar, crass profanity of pornography, and the depravity of atomic weapons? Is it a visual representation of the way Oppenheimer Analysis have beautified the nuclear landscape, conflating man’s inhumanity to man with something voluptuous or pleasurable? This cover is at least as complex a symbol for the album as the reissue one is. And while it’s easy to dismiss it as lowbrow, I think it’s worth noting how the salacious or saucy aspect of it would have helped it fit in with other underground cassettes of its era, many of which had lurid or provocative imagery.

Of course, this discussion of the differing incarnations of the album is a natural segue to addressing the release history of New Mexico. The story of Oppenheimer Analysis is deeply entwined with that of New York-based Minimal Wave Records, founded in 2005 by Veronica Vasicka, a radio DJ fascinated by underground electronic music. The label specializes in making obscure, self-published works like New Mexico widely available in digital form, so that more music enthusiasts can get a chance to hear them. Without her, I myself might never have heard this album, and certainly wouldn’t be in a position to make a review like this! Vasicka felt strongly about the artistry of Oppenheimer Analysis, and gave the honour of her label’s first-ever release, “MW001,” to a self-titled EP compiling several of the tracks from New Mexico. Later, in 2010, when she was able to rerelease New Mexico in its entirety, she gave it the honourary designation of “MW001D.”

Vasicka is the one responsible for coining the term “minimal wave” to describe the subgenre she was interested in, and, fifteen years later, I think it’s safe to say it’s had some staying power. While it may be a bit vague and subject to individual interpretation, that’s a problem all genre labels contend with, and I think fans of minimal wave ought to be proud that this term was at least coined by a passionate and dedicated fan, who made her favourite music more accessible to everyone, as a labour of love. It’s also not the only genre term to come about much, much later than the music it seeks to describe. At any rate, New Mexico will always have a place in the minimal wave hall of fame, and it’s a genre-defining work, if in hindsight. The stylistic hallmarks of New Mexico are, for better or for worse, now also those of a whole movement: harsh, tinny rhythm machines, strident synth lines, anxious, unmannered vocals, and technological themes.

But what actually happened to Andy Oppenheimer and Martin Lloyd? In light of the renewed interest in their work in the 00s, they actually got back together for a bit, releasing some archival material from the 1980s and laying down a handful of new tracks, very similar in style to those on New Mexico. Lloyd passed away suddenly in 2013, but Oppenheimer has remained interested in keeping their ideas alive. He’s been performing live as well as putting out new music, first as “Touching the Void,” alongside Mark Warner of Sudeten Creche, and more recently as “Oppenheimer Mk II,” with Mahk Rumbae of Konstruktivists.

Music: “You Won’t Disarm Me”

Something that I think really stands out about New Mexico, especially when compared to a lot of other small-time minimal wave releases, is that it’s a very consistent quality throughout. As you might expect with an underground genre, a lot of the music to choose from is varying degrees of amateurish and clunky, and it’s arguably better to listen to Minimal Wave compilations than the LPs that exist. New Mexico is an exception, though, and doesn’t have any particularly weak tracks. The favourite tracks cited by fans of the album tend to vary pretty widely. My top pick, though, is the album’s opener, “Don’t Be Seen With Me.” It’s a perfect marriage of dizzying, spiraling synth runs, and one of Oppenheimer’s most frenetic vocal performances, that creates a masterful portrayal of being swept up in infatuation with somebody you really shouldn’t be fooling with. That’s all I’ve got--thanks for listening!

Music: “Don’t Be Seen With Me”

#music #great albums #album review #album reviews #minimal wave #minimalwave #coldwave #minimal synth #oppenheimer analysis

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popculturebuffet · 4 years

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Porky Pig Black and White Birthday Special!

H-h-hello you happy people! And it’s time for my first birthday special for Looney Tune! While I covered some with Tex’s birthday last week, this is the first of these specials i’ve done to cover one of their stars.. and it’s apporirate it starts with their first big one: Porky Pig!

Yes for those of you who didn’t know, and until a few months ago that included me turns out Porky wasn’t always a second banana who still had an iconic habit of closing out shorts with his signature “T-t-that’s all folks!’. He was Warner Bros first big star and mascot. Like Daffy would do in Porky’s own shorts he started out as a sidekick in shorts for Beans the Cat

No one Brak, that’s why eventually Beans, who was a diet Mickey outside of his first short, which we’ll get to in a moment, got the boot while the stuttering adorable pig got the starring role instead. Porky was the studio’s big headliner for years and years.. but most wouldn’t know it. Outside of Porky in Wackyland, none of his shorts without Daffy or Sylvester really got a lot of play on Cartoon Network or other repackages, likely because most were black and white and for whatever reason they didn’t mix them in. But after seeing oh so many in the menu for Looney Tunes on max I was super curious, and thus super excited for this day to come so I could take a look and see how they held up, holding off watching them so they’d be fresh. And outside of three shorts: his first appearance, one suggested by my friend Blah and one picked by my Patreon Emma, as one of the perks for my patreons is getting to pick a cartoon when I do one of these 10 cartoon specials, I just went with my gut, what sounded interesting or what have you, avoidnig the ones where he was Daffy’s sidekick and what not to focus soley on porky hamself to see how he stacked up alone.

How’d it turn out? Well join me after the cut for a nice pile of ham, bacon, sausage and other pork products as we dig into everyone’s favorite pig. Well almost everyone I have my own favorites.

Yes yes you are sweetie. Reviews of 10 Porky Shorts, all but one in black and white, under the cut. Trigger warning: One of these shorts involves attempted suicide Yes really. So if that’s a trigger for you, please avoid this review entirely or if you want to just avoid that specific entry, the one on Porky’s romance. Thank you.

1. I Haven’t Got A Hat (1935): Bope A Dope A Dope Dope

As I mentioned Pre-Porky, Warner didn’t have a star to compete with Disney, and given Disney was so character based, and a lot of these shorts were coming out at the same time Disney was spinning Donald off into his own series giving them TWO huge stars, it was clear Warner needed at least one to complete. So they came up with a plan: a knock off of Our Gang, aka what would later be dubbed The Little Rascals, starring a bunch of animal kids to see if one or all caught on. As you can tell one did but as the intro made clear it took them a few shorts to realize it.

The short is about a school recital to raise money for the teachers, just in case you thought them being underpayed was a new thing. So it’s really an excuse for four diffrent segments of hyjinks following a diffrent kid or kids each. Our first is the reason this one is here, porky’s introductoin where he stutters, and struggles throught he midnight ride of paul revere. It’s alright mostly do to his animated actions like the above seen simulating hi mriding his horse. Not bad but like a lot of Porky jokes it relies on his stutter which wasn’t funny to me as a kid or now as an adult, and comes off pretty inesnitive in hindsight, especially as the stutter was a medical condition of his voice actor that forced him to retire and be replaced by Mel Blanc after “Porky’s Romance”, which we’ll get to.

The other three bits are likewise decent: Kitty, a small cat, nervously makes her way through mary had a little lamb next, whic is fine enough. My faviorite is after here, Ham and Ecks, two puppies performing the title number, which is mostly funny because they sing like normal kidddies.. except after saying the title name with Ecks suddenly going in very low. it’s not bad.

Finally we have Beans and Oliver Owl. Beans wants to get back at Oliver for not sharing Candy so he puts a dog and cat in his piano. It’s colossal, it’ stupendous.. it’s mediocre! As is the whole short, not bad bits, but only the title track is super memorable. It is easy to see why Porky stuck out the most though with his stutter and neat design. As mentioned it would take warner a few shorts to realize his appeal but once he did he was off to the raises and the next three shorts are all from the very next year.

2. The Blow Out (1936): Insert Silly Jig Music Here

This one is simple but it works: A mad bomber, what bombs in broad daylight, is setting up time bombs and being hammy. Meanwhile Porky, whose still a kid in this one, wants a big old soda float and only has half the money, but after helping a guy pick up his cane on relflex, starts helping people pick up their items. You can see where this is going and the climax is damn fun as you’d expect from Tex Avery. The runner of Porky doing a silly little dance with a catchy musical sting as he trops the pennies he gets in his pocket is also pretty neat. Not the best he’s done, given I did a whole birthday special last week he’d get much better, but still some fun silly stuff.

3. Plane Dippy (1936): Spin It! Even better, with a simple premise: Porky joins the army, we get some hyjinks as he does the tests and then he’s assigned to dust a remote plane that Kitty ends up accidently directing when talking to her dog. There’s some really fun screwball stuff here, though the ending is a bit weak, everything else is pretty strong. The pattern for the last three holds: not the best thing i’ve seen from Disney, Warner or MGM, but pretty neat.

4. Porky In The North Woods (1936): Turtle Paddlin

This one’s a disney style picture as Porky sets up an animal refuge, only for an egotistical hunter to outright ignore his signs and presumed legal right and set up traps then try and kill Porky for daring to. undo his traps.. in an area outright labeled as an animal sanctuary. I’d say just hunt somewhere else but as the modern republican party has proven Stubborn assholes afraid of change won’t just go away or obey the law. The animals return Porky’s kindness by kicking hte guys ass, the best bit being some turtles grabbing some paddles and giving him what for, to the point I screencapped that bit specically.

But other than the Climax it’s just alright, but the hammy villian does help elevate this one.

5. Porky’s Romance: I made a Huge Mistake

This one was one I picked out I knew wasn’t on Max but curious about Petunia’s first apperance, I added it to the rotation anyway.

I’m not sugarcoating it because this short dosen’t deserve it: This is the worst of the shorts i’m covering here today. It is pure awful distlend into 7 LONG minutes.

As some of you may recall, back when I did my first shortravaganza for Donald Ducks birthdy, I reviewed Donald’s Diary, the last Daisy short and one with some pretty cute Donsy stuff but ends with him reconsidering proposal like a jackass because he asasumes marriage will be terrible and she’ll turn abusive and “GASP” make him do chores like a responsible partner. It’s one half a good short, and one half a really bad short.

You want to see the truly terrible version of that done years earlier, on less of a budget and only satisfying at hte very end? No. Well I didn’t either but that’s what I got. The short starts okay, with a bit introducing Petunia in am eta way. But the short itself after that little meta bit?

The short has Porky lovingly picking out choclates and a ring for Petunia. Petunia in this short.. is a horrible monster who dismisses him out of hand and only lets him court her to get his choclate, her dog barks at him trying to get some, so their all assholes, and she outright laughs at his proposal.

It’s here where I needed a trigger warning, as Porky tries to kill himself over it. So we have a woman using a prospective partner for finacials and her real intentions driving him to suicide. I.. why would you put this in here. How is this funny? or entertaining? Or anything I want to watch in a looney tune? I don’t want to watch Porky get depressed and try and hang himself. No one wants that and if you do, please get some help.

He hten has a dream, hence the comparison, of an awful wedded life with Petunia where he does everything, and she GASPS puts on weight.. even though...

youtube

He wakes up, finds Petunia likes him now but leaves, takes the choclates and kicks the dog. Haha he’s sitll not a good person.

As you can tell, this short is throughly miserable. It’s not funny, it’s not tearjerking, it uses sucicide for some reason and takes a dark tone, and is VERY sexist saying “Well women be like this you know” it feels like. It also makes VERY light of domestic abuse, and while that was the style at the time it dosen’t make it any better. Tackling either suicide or domestic abuse is fine, their very important issues.. but don’t put them in your looney tune, for god’s sake. I do not get the tone they were going for but I hate it. I HATE THIS ONE. Do not watch it it bad. Let’s please move on.

6. Porky’s Garden (1937): It’s A Me! An Itallian Sterotype!

My good friend Emma, whose now one of my patreons, picked this one mostly because it popped up on youtube when she did a youtube search. ironically she herself is itallian and i’m 100% convinced she had no idea what this cartoon contained: Porky versus an itallian sterotype for a county fair prize. Now is this the worst thing Looney Tunes has done? Nope the censored eleven exist, Porky’s Romance exists and Loontics unleashed exists, so i’ts not the worst but it’s still just very cringe inducing that the only joke the guy has is “laugh at the evil foreigners funny accent” It’s not very good, not worht your time, and has weird popeye joke for some reason.

7. The Case of the Stuttering Pig (1937): The Creampuff in the Third Row This one could’ve been done for Halloween, as Porky deals with a lawyer turned into a monster stalking him and Petunia.. whose possibly his sister here which somehow makes Porky’s romance even worse but given the unviersal adaptor cast of the looney tunes, i’m assuming it wasn’t. That short is horrible enough own without that little chesnut. The short is dripping with atmosphere but on the whole is just okay, though the runner about the villain insulting a guy in row three only for that guy to get even at the end and save the pigs is pretty great not going to lie.

8. What Price, Porky? (1938): Daffy!

I purposefully chose not to have as little of other looney tunes as possible, in order to make this Porky’s day. As you can tell for the most part that’s been a mistake but even the one with Daffy is just okay, but at least has a creative premise. Porky is a farmer, a surprisingly common theme, and some local ducks are stealing his Chicken’s corn. So while he tries to ask them nicely not to, the general, played by daffy, attacks. Sadly he’s barely in it but we do get some neat gags and it’s far more of a ride than the last few. The ending is bad, the ducks win despite being the antagonists, but still pretty fun. Thankfully we’ll be getting more Daffy in April.

9. Porky’s Hare Hunt: Halfway To Bugs

As you can tell this day ended up being kind of a disapointment: Porky just isn’t the most intresting leading man and ended up working better as a straight man. I still genuinely love the character, but it’s clear there was only so much you could do with him in the lead and by the end here, he was either being sidelined so Chuck Jones could do something else like the last one or made the foil to someone goofier often daffy but our last two, and today’s two best, this one being secon dbest, prove whyt hey’ve stuck to that since.

This one has him hunting a Rabbit whose a bit nuts and utterly delightful, a prottype for bugs.. and for woody woodpecker, whose va he shared, and Screwball Squirreel. THANKS...FOR...THAT... but unlike screwy, this rabbit at least is being hunted, so we get a fun breezy short with some goofy antics and a loveable protgangsit going up against Porky as the antagonist. Good stuff.

10. Porky in Wackyland: Ending on a High

As I said this ended up being kind of a slog. I wanted to honor Porky by showing his solo career and instead found it dated with a few good shorts.. but only a few really held a candle to the disney stuff going on at the time or the warner stuff to come later like Porky’s Hare Hunt and the Blow Out. Otherwise it’s pretty standard outside of the previous entry.. and there’s only one true masterpiece. This one. Porky in Wackland.

Porky in Wackland is just Bob Clampett going nuts for 7 minutes and it’s glorious to watch. Porky is hutning for the last Dodo and ends up in the utterly deranged and wonderous wacky land. The only bit that does not work in this entire 7 minute orgy of weirdness is a refrence to the jazz singer with a creature screaming mammy that’s a slight caracture of a black person. I’ve seen much worse but i’ts still eesh. But unlike some shorts, that dosen’t slow it down for long and it’s almost etnirely just fun, utterly batshit stuff and a great chase with the dodo himself at the end and one hell of a warner brothers logo gag. Check this one out, it’s admired for a reason. Tremendous stuff. Should be on max with.. that bit.. edited out.

So that was a look into Porky’s solo career and yeah, I can see why he’s better as a straight man. I still love the guy though and he has lasted as long as his brothers while others from this time were forgotten> He’s still a good character.. he’s just better paired with Daffy or someone else, part of a team. As a solo act.. he’s just okay but as part of a group.. he’s sensational.

If you liked this review, reblog it, follow me for more and join my patreon. Until then...

#looney tunes #porky pig #porky pig's birthday #petunia pig #daffy duck #what price porky #the blow out #haven't got a hat #plane drippy #the case of the stuttering pig #porky's romance #porky's hare hunt #porky in wackyland #porky's garden #porky in the north woods

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distinctlywhumpthing · 3 years

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4&5

Reposting without fear/threat/mention of noncon, please note all of the other CWs before for each part. Happy to answer questions or help with censoring.

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CW: explicit language and content, torture, captivity, wounds, implied sex work, strangulation, choking, suicide (hanging), suicidal thoughts/explicit planning, mouth whump description (bleeding, asphyxiation, choking), breathing, bruises, beating, conditioning, dehumanization, noncon touching (non sexual), drugs, alcohol, multiple whumpees, multiple whumpers, whumpee as caretaker,

August once asked what they do to me. Mouthed it, like he couldn’t stop himself from forming the words, but didn’t bother voicing it out of horror or just because he knew I couldn’t answer. I wouldn’t fucking know where to begin anyway.

Probably down on my knees.

At this point, our situation boggles my mind even more than when they trained me to be silent. That was logical when you psychoanalyzed it but shit got fucked sideways when August came into the picture. It’s just senseless now, an unending labyrinth of manipulation and control. Double the captives means double the fun. I was lucky to be alone for so long. There were two others before him but never like this. In the grand scheme of things, they’re all mere drops of water in the swimming pool of my time here. It was another woman first, although I never learned her name. She seemed like a Tiffany or a Heather and was really pretty, too but never trusted me. Wouldn’t even look at me, as if I wasn’t just as much of a prisoner as her.

Poor thing was in the wrong place at the wrong time and saw something she shouldn’t have. She didn’t last long at all. Unraveled faster than you can say, “Money’s on the table.” You’d think she’d have a little more grit. I mean you hear stories and can only imagine the shit they put up with in that industry, but it was like something out of an exorcist movie. Crying hysterically, throwing herself at the walls and doors, and trying to strangle the life out of me like I was sitting on a key. They came in and intervened but not before she’d purpled my neck so I could barely breathe. That was the only time they ever took the shock collar off. She spent the next bit catatonic and then one day when they brought me back, she was dangling by her own diamond-studded jeggings from a pipe on the ceiling, toes just a few inches from the ground. Damn slow way to die. They took out the pipe.

I’ve given it a hell of a lot of thought myself. She’d obviously been trying something similar with smacking herself into the concrete walls, but that will only get you a concussion that makes it feel like you’ve gone a few rings deeper into Hell. No, thank you. My choice would be the naked lightbulb on the wall, next to the door. If I shoved it far enough down my throat before it broke, I’m pretty sure I would asphyxiate before they could do anything. The key would be to bleed enough into my bronchial tube and inhale enough shards of glass to shred my lungs a bit. A little internal bleeding down my esophagus wouldn’t hinder the cause but certainly wouldn’t be fatal on its own, never mind the risk of just cutting my tongue and mouth to ribbons if it breaks too early. In that case, I’d be fucked. That’s why Wyatt leaves it there, uncovered, even though other lightbulbs down the hallway have metal cages screwed over them. Tempting me to risk it. He also knows that, now, I’d never leave August. I feel responsible and that’s why he holds my life in his hands. The torture will never stop and August is better off with me to take care of him in whatever way I can, even if it doesn’t even come close to reparation.

—

The next guy was probably mid-thirties and built like a truck. I can’t begin to imagine what he did to wind up here. He didn’t take to captivity well either. Everything they’d put into him, he’d let out onto me. The first time, I was pretzeled around one of the legs of my bed frame, while he punched and clawed at me, so hell-bent on not letting go, I was screaming my head off for help despite the collar. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that Wyatt doesn’t like anyone to touch me. That went over like a lead balloon. Playing off his proclivity like somehow I had any right to decide not to be beaten. Wyatt would have stopped it anyway and I could have saved myself the next few days of my bunkmate beating the living shit out of me undisturbed as long as he left it at just that. As soon as Wyatt decided I’d learned my lesson, or was sick of seeing me limping and bruised, that guy was fish food.

The second bed was empty for a long time after that even though I’m sure there were others. Wyatt has a list a mile-long of people he’d like to get his hands on for one reason or another, but I never saw them. Wyatt would still bring me out to toy with me in his usual ways. The buffoons would bring me out when he wasn’t around for entertainment but they know better than to touch me more than cursory shoves to keep me cooperating and even then, more often with their phones or other inanimate objects, rather than their hands. To them, it was endlessly entertaining to get me high out of my mind and mess with me or make me play Emma Fortyhands until I puked all over myself. I should have known Wyatt wasn’t wasting any time during this plateau of suffering. From what August says, he was here for a handful of days, maybe even two weeks, before they made us roommates. Wyatt just talked to him, drilling him for hours. He had been screening him, looking for the perfect match before binding us together in torment.

They always take me first and bring me straight to Wyatt. He likes to talk to me about what he has planned for August, trying to get a rise out of me. Like I’d be dumb enough to think that any amount of disgust or fear on my part would make a lick of difference for August. If anything, Wyatt would double it just for my reaction. Next, Wyatt makes sure I’ll make it through what he has planned for me without passing out. The humane thing would be to give me a second meal or something but instead, he gives me whatever his henchmen have lying around. An unpredictable twist added to my slow destruction. I’m lucky if it’s an energy shot or some gross drink that tastes like fruit-flavored battery acid and leaves me shaking. More often, it’s “just a bump” of something that makes my heart race and the whole session so unbearable I’m screaming in my head at the top of my lungs until I come down.

One time, he gave me a tab of acid. His favorite kind of experiment, the ultimate demonstration of his success. To no one’s surprise, I’m conditioned enough that I still didn’t speak and followed every instruction. That was, no contest, my worst day on this fucked-sideways merry-go-round. I was tripping so hard. Too slow and too fast at the same time, no distinction between myself and everything around me. Wyatt’s barbaric plan turned into a barbaric fuck-up. A small part of me understood what I had done even before I came down and when I stumbled out, I was met by silence instead of the usual dumb peanut-gallery comments. They threw me into the shower after, like always, but left me there for hours since I was still tripping. I was hysterical by the time they let me out. By some miracle, or just Wyatt perversely delaying the end, he had actually called a real doctor.

—

Today, Wyatt hands me a double shot of whiskey because it’s “cute” to watch me struggle when I’m tipsy. I knock it back in one swallow, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much that frightens me. He finishes getting me ready and then smacks me on the ass to get me moving. Once I’m in the room, he starts feeding me instructions even though I already know what he wants from me today. This way, he’s in control of my every action, like he’s thinking for me, while I just focus on getting air into my lungs, fighting through the alcohol hitting my bloodstream and burning in my empty stomach. I can throw it up in the shower later if I need to. I just need to survive this.

By the time I stumble out, I’m inevitably a mess. Crying, shaking, and covered in sweat, even on the days I get the raw, straight edge experience. One of the baboons walks me to the small concrete room, empty except the industrial-looking shower head in the ceiling above the drain. The controls are on the outside of the room which is how they make sure the water is ice cold and stays on for exactly five minutes. They take the collar off and I get a bar of soap before they lock me in. It used to be orange soap bars that made my skin feel dry even wet. After that, it was green with the same problem but a stronger smell that clung to me all the time, which wasn’t half bad. Lately, it’s a white, rounder bar, that’s distinctly feminine, and leaves my skin soft, which would be concerning if I wasn’t already too balls-deep in my worst nightmare to care.

I used to dance in and out of the freezing shower while I soaped up but now I stay under the whole time. It’s the only thing that makes any damn sense anymore, the one small touch of reality in this shit storm. I stand under the frigid water and then shake and shiver once it’s turned off until the cold becomes a buzz on my skin and in my veins. Depending on the day, I wait for seconds or hours until they toss me a small, scratchy towel and clean clothes. The waiting is part of it. Not because I’m covered in goosebumps, muscles cramping so that I have to curl in on myself for heat, but because of what I know is waiting for me next.

When they finally let me out and lock me into the collar, it’s all I can do not to run back to our basement hole as fast as my legs will carry me to make sure August hasn’t bled out or gone into shock while they kept me from him. It’s all I care about anymore, helping him survive, making him as comfortable as possible. Honestly, it is the least I can do. It’s my fault he’s here at all, kept to be part of a set. Not to mention the heinous torture. If I had known, I would have done my damndest to kill him before it ever even started

And I would have inhaled that fucking lightbulb immediately after.

CW: explicit language and content, torture, captivity, conditioning, dehumanization, electrocution, shock collar, being watched, multiple whumpees, multiple whumpers, possessive whumper, whumpee as caretaker, letmeknowifimissedany

He looks young, too young, like the kind of barely-adult who’s still carrying around a duct tape wallet they made themselves in high school. Maybe old enough to have graduated from college, but still doing whatever he can to delay wearing a tie behind a desk for the rest of his life. Even if that means working at a job that doesn’t even require a diploma so long as he can still surf on weekdays before work. Considering grad school just to avoid working a forty-hour week and his parents will pay for it anyway.

“Hey, I’m August,” he says, giving me a confident smile and holding out his hand as he towers over me.

I back into the wall, shake my head and wonder if I’ll get a warning shock even though I dodged his handshake. None comes, but I don’t take it as an invitation. Those don’t exist in this universe.

“It’s okay, Honey. Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, tilting his head to the side so his bangs clear off his eye and backing away to sit on the bed with his hands held up.

God, he’s like a poster boy for Division One lacrosse. All tan, lithe muscle, white teeth, and that stupid, floppy hair. He looks out of place not wearing some bullshit nautical motif printed chino shorts with a collared shirt tucked in—probably a polo. The type to drive his Audi (his mom’s old car) into the seedy part of the city to buy pot but he’ll 'never smoke before a game.' Christ, what was this dipshit doing mixed up with Wyatt?

I push off the wall, staying out of arms reach, and go sit on my bed across from him. I pull my legs up off the floor for good measure and settle into staring him down. He better not try anything.

He looks around the room again before returning his gaze to me. “I’m not really sure what the etiquette is here. Should I make small talk and ask you where you grew up?” he asks, sounding as much like a tool as he looks.

No, Jackass, you should keep your fucking mouth shut so I don’t wind up paying for your uninspired commentary.

“Can’t really tell what the weather is like with no windows,” he comments.

Please stop talking. Don’t you dare start—

“Honestly, it’s not as bad as I thought. I was terrified when they first—”

The electricity zips through me, tensing every muscle.

A warning buzz, the lowest setting, but still strong enough that I have to catch my breath after. I keep it soft and quiet always careful not to double-dip by being loud. “Seen, not heard, Pretty Thing,” is what Wyatt had said, years ago, when he introduced me to my new constant companion. Sound activated and remote-controlled with several levels of intensity for all your everyday sadistic needs. The first week was an awful cycle of fuck ups. They were constantly shocking me with the remote. I’d cry out, only to be shocked by the human-bark-collar feature and wind up trying to claw it off, which would get me a third shock. Each time, the voltage increasing, over and over, until I’d pass out.

He’s paled at the sight of me. “Uh, you okay, Sweetheart?” His voice is lower, softer, like it was before when he said he wouldn’t hurt me.

I glare at him. No, Fuckface, I’m the unlucky, unwitting barometer for the class. I just got electrocuted because you started talking about a no-no subject.

I consider putting a finger to my lips to tell him to shutthehellup even though I know I’ll get a shock for the gesture. If I do it with my middle finger, will they shock me twice for killing two birds with one stone? Is it worth it anyway?

I look at the camera.

I’m sure Wyatt is watching. He lives for this. He watches every time his henchmen toy with me, too, even though that usually happens when he’s busy or away, so it’s on a recording. He loves watching me be as he made me. Pushing, testing, and dissecting his intrinsic control in different contexts. I know he loves correcting me, for the thrill of it, but it’s always with a hint of disappointment because perfection is what that twisted motherfucker is chasing.

August—shit, what a name—follows my gaze and must be noticing the camera for the first time because he swallows audibly and looks back at me with wide eyes.

This one’s going to fold like a lawn chair. He’ll be unhinged the first time they hurt him. By the looks of him, that hasn’t happened yet, which is a bad sign for sure. Hopefully, he gets that this isn’t open mic night, but he still looks anxiously confused. It’s not like I can pull down the top of my shirt to show him the collar either. That will get me a top-notch, skip all the low gears and jump straight to the chip-my-teeth, muscles-sore-for-hours, flooring-it kind of shock. Although, if I pass out, he’ll probably can it.

“I—” He stops, shakes his head, and drops it into his hands. Whispers, “Oh, man,” under his breath.

Idiot. What did you think this was? A chance to network?

I watch him try to collect himself. He’s raking through his auburn hair one hand at a time while he keeps his head hung. He might be the same age as me. I have no idea what year it is. Time flies when you’re having imprisoned in a windowless basement. August looks like he’s just been hit by reality.

Damn, kid. Don’t fall apart yet.

I rise to get him a drink of water before he completely loses it.

He watches me out of the corner of his eye but doesn’t lift his head until I’m holding the cup out beside him. He sniffles and wipes his face with the back of his hand pathetically before taking the little paper cup.

“Thanks, Angel,” he says huskily.

Drop the pet names, you’re not a southern grandma. I refrain from rolling my eyes. That one is a grey area. Sometimes Wyatt thinks it’s funny, other times, not so much. I go back to my bed and hug my legs to my chest so I can rest my chin on my knees.

August tosses back the water like it’s a shot and then leans over to put the cup on top of the cabinet. He scoots back so he’s leaning on the wall and fiddles with a paracord bracelet on his wrist. I’m surprised they let him keep that. He’s clearly not wearing his own clothes, just some cut-off sweatpants, and a plain white t-shirt. Either that or they abducted him in his pajamas.

He’s quiet until the light shuts off a little while later.

“What’s going on?” he asks. He must have stood up because a second later he walks into the foot of my bed. “Ow, sorry, I can’t see.”

No shit, Numb Nuts. Go sit back down before you hurt yourself.

He finally does and when my eyes adjust, I see that he’s lying down, but facing me with his head propped up on one hand. “I guess if you’re not freaking out, this must be normal. Does this mean it’s night? I was hoping we’d get to eat something. Did you eat already? I haven’t eaten today. I think it’s been—”

It’s too dark for him to see my reaction when they shock me. Assholes. It’s not going to work to stop his chatting unless he sees the consequences of his topic choice for himself.

“—a few days since I got here, but I don’t know for sure. I’ve been in—”

Another shock, stronger than the last. Fuck me, he’s not going to stop talking.

“—basement rooms the whole time, but it hasn’t been that bad. All they ever did was—”

I’m having trouble fully catching my breath with how fast these are coming, the voltage ramping up each time. God, just go to sleep, please.

“—ask me a whole lot of questions. It reminded me of my college admissions interview but more like a—”

Holy hell does it hurt. It’s been a while since I was reprimanded up to this level. I’m not stupid or brazen enough to fuck up twice in a row anymore, let alone four times. There are tears running down my face. I guess this is more about telling me not to listen. If I block my ears will they stop? Probably not and that’s way too close to touching the collar anyway.

“—personality quiz. I guess that’s over now. I don’t know what’s going to happen—”

Stopstopstopstop.

“—next but I’m happy to have some company. Although, I guess you don’t talk much…”

Breathe, Emma, justfuckingbreathe. I do it through clenched teeth. My face is wet with tears and snot from the last two. I never have figured out if the duration of the shocks increases as the voltage does or if it just takes my body longer to recover. I can barely hear August ask if I’m okay over the sound of my pulse hammering in my head and my own breathing. Fuck. Get it together before you give yourself the shock that knocks you out.

Something taps me in the arm. I open my eyes as I shove myself back into the wall. August quickly steps away from the edge of my bed.

Ohmygod, Dumbass. Did you just touch me? Can’t give me a goddamn minute? I hold my breath but nothing happens.

“It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you, Baby,” August repeats in a whisper, “I just brought you some water.” He holds out the cup, staying a full arms-length away, fingers gripping the top like a claw. He must have tapped the bottom of it against my elbow if they haven’t shocked me. It wasn’t his hand after all.

I exhale and carefully take the water by the bottom, trying not to shake so much that it spills.

He moves away, slowly, keeping his hands out at his sides again like I’m holding him at gunpoint. “I’m sorry,” he says, so softly I almost don’t hear it.

He thinks I was emotionally upset by his monologue. If only you knew, buddy. At least he won’t do it again or mention anything similar.

Eventually, he falls asleep and I’m thankful for the silence. Wyatt and his goonies talk to me plenty but it’s different when someone is expecting me to answer, and then I can’t. I stay up as long as I can because once I’m sleeping, I get shocked on a timer. Thankfully just with the lowest setting, but I’m not in any rush to feel it again. Sometimes, I swear it's every twenty minutes. Wyatt intentionally varies it. Snapping me back to my jacked-beyond-belief reality so I don’t ever forget it. As if my dreams haven’t also bowed to Wyatt’s will, but he knows that, of course.

He likes me better on my toes.

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promethes · 4 years

Text

dumping the horrendous unconventional short story I wrote for my midterm under the cut to get it off my mind bc I do not like it.

ENTRY 1

I think I will make my life’s motif a bird. It shouldn’t be too hard. They’re everywhere and pop out at the most opportune moments. I’ll find a way to tie them in.

ENTRY 2

Stood in line for way too long at the cafe. Can you believe the girl in front of me didn’t even look up to plan her order until she was physically at the front of the line? I knew what I wanted to order before I even stepped foot into the place. They need to change that. I’m on the lookout for some kind of online suggestion box to submit to since they decided to forgo an in-house one for some God forsaken reason. There’s not a lick of common sense in anyone these days. Saw a robin on my way out and flicked it a sesame seed from my bagel.

ENTRY 3

Would you listen to this garbage? They’re planning on tearing down my favorite bowling alley. “Didn’t pass inspection” my ass. It’s an important cultural landmark of our city and I’m marching down to the mayor to set him straight. I can’t stage important life moments around the cardinal themed bowling alley if there is no bowling alley to have a cardinal theme!

ENTRY 4

Mom’s in the hospital. Driving over now, she said it has something to do with her cholesterol. It either spiked or dropped real low, but I can’t be sure. Either way, she’s in the hospital. I don’t know why she chose the one that’s so far away though. The vending machines in the other one have way better stock.

ENTRY 5

Forgot to say. I didn’t run over any birds on the way there.

ENTRY 6

I don’t think I’m spiraling yet but I’m close to it. Mom’s fine, she’s just staying overnight in case anything acts up again. I, on the other hand, am NOT. Car won’t start and I’ve been sitting here in the parking lot for almost four hours now. Embarrassed beyond belief. A weird old man with a huge shiny truck offered to help and he’s been good on his word lending me his car to jump-start mine, but his bumper stickers make me nervous. His truck has custom lettering too. I’m a big guy, so not too worried, but a little concerned.

Anyway, it didn’t work and I’m calling a tow truck now. I tried to thank the guy and offered to buy him coffee, but he just said “No way, Jose” which was weird. He smacked the top of my car before he left and said I need to “dress this little lady up.” Maybe I’ll get a sparrow bumper sticker online. Everything’s online these days.

ENTRY 7

Starting to rethink the bird motif thing. Not much goes on in my life anyway, and there’s only so much material I can get out of waking up early to chirping. Maybe I should aim lower. I could choose a color instead. Red would be a cop-out, it’s too obvious. Blood! I need something that’s at least a little challenging. We’ll see. I’ll sleep on it.

ENTRY 8

GREAT NEWS! Sister got a BIRD. A real-life living breathing chirping flying bird. It’s a sign and I’m not going to ignore it. My life’s motif is a bird and it’s not going to be one of those unbearably hidden motifs from English class required readings either.

(Although I did like some of them. That spoon in Middlesex…… I want my bird to be his spoon. To take up space in an almost eerie way. I’ll find a way to make it work.)

ENTRY 9

Laying the groundwork. These things don’t come easy, so I’m sowing the seeds (birds do that, right?) Told everyone at work that my great great great grandfather’s name was Starling. Drilled up a lot of curious questions and I even got to know some of the people I always just miss talking to. They were all VERY interested. Tomorrow I’ll bring in a picture of an actual starling. I don’t think Andrew quite knows that it’s a kind of bird.

ENTRY 10

Don’t remember the name my sister chose and I couldn’t remember if I tried even if I squeezed my eyes shut before blinking really fast like I usually do because this bird (Polly I’m going to call it Polly because an annoying bird deserves an annoying name) is so incessantly annoyingly unbearably loud. I can’t believe this thing is my sign.

My sign is chirping me into the basement and into a frenzy. At least I have my old sleeping bag handy until I can figure out how to shut it up. Why must my motif be so unbearably annoying?

ENTRY 11

Update on the car: starter wires snapped. Haven’t seen any birds around lately (except for a crow but I hate crows and I won’t be counting them) so I was hopeful and asked the mechanic if there’s any chance a bird could’ve pecked at the wires until they got so worn down that they snapped in the hospital parking lot.

He looked at me like I was crazy. I know that was what the look meant because he said, “Are you f****ing crazy man? The wires are deep in your car under the hood.” (I’m censoring the language. I don’t want language taking away from my story. If this is to be read in a future child’s English class to teach a lesson about motifs, I can’t be including foul language.)

I’m not f***ing crazy but I am extremely ticked off. Does he not realize how little birds come out in the cold weather? I need whatever I can get.

I’ll just tell people a bird got stuck under the hood of my car. I’ll change this entry later. Mechanic man doesn’t deserve a spot in a child’s English class; he didn’t even have the decency to watch his language for them.

ENTRY 12

People at work are finally starting to catch on! Got called “bird guy” by Kathleen (Catherine? Kristy? Whatever.) when she saw my shirt. I knew it’d be a good move when I saw it on sale at Walmart. I’m thinking of making the cover of my book Hawaiian print, but I’ll tell my future publisher I’m not married to the idea. Can’t be too picky on my first book! I’ll leave that for the second.

ENTRY 13

I will enjoy my day today I will enjoy my day today I will enjoy my day. Sister needs to get control of Polly. I’ve moved down my whole mattress now. I will enjoy my day I will enjoy my day I will enjoy

ENTRY 14

Can’t believe I overlooked eagles and hawks. Of course sparrows and starlings weren’t doing the trick! Classic oversight, focusing too much on the mundane. I won’t be making that mistake. I blame it all on that incessant chirping. Mom says it’s not too bad but I’m fairly certain that cholesterol has gotten to her ears. She must be going deaf. She’s lucky she’s ill or else I’d be very extremely sore at her for making that face at me. I know it’s a bad face because it’s the same face that f***ing mechanic made and I don’t think he’s ever made a good face in his life so if my mom made that same face then I really don’t like that. She gets a pass for the cholesterol.

ENTRY 15

I feel amazing. Bought an eagle bumper sticker at a roadside gas station and after a few strategic snips, it’ll be ready to go on the car. I’m dressing this little lady up! The red, white, and blue has got to go first though. Decided a while ago not to let colors mess with my motif, and I’m not going to slip up on that again! Snip snip.

I’m considering this a debt paid. Dressed the little lady up. Two birds, one stone! I’m making that my new catchphrase.

ENTRY 16

Should I make this a love story? I’m thinking about making it a romance. Doves are right there, really just waiting for me to weave them in. On the other hand, I don’t think that’d work to create much of a conducive learning environment for the kids. I think I’ll stick to a Mark Twain type story instead.

Reread the beginning and don’t think it’s working. I’ll be cutting all that out. I spoke too much about mom’s cholesterol. Too many side characters and not enough focus. Where was I going with this again?

ENTRY 17

Writer’s block. It’s ok, I still had that major breakthrough with the hawk/eagle thought. Put in my two weeks to dedicate all my time. I’ve found a bird-watching site that I hope will bring me more peace than f***ing Polly.

ENTRY 18

These birds are really working to stay in my New York Times best-selling children’s novel. Knew this would be a challenge, but they really do never stop conversing. If only they could read, I’d write them a best-selling manual on the best ways to speak inwards rather than outwards. Chirp chirp chirp needs to turn into ______ ________ ________.

ENTRY 19

Sister’s going to be f***ing pissed but it was the only thing to do.

ENTRY 20

Honestly, it was just a bird! If it was really part of our family, you’d think that I’d know its name by now.

ENTRY 21

I said that Polly’s in a better place now, but set her off with the “Polly”. Maybe this was a mistake. She said I “begged” her to get the bird but she shouldn’t say that when she’s the one reacting like this.

ENTRY 22

Books should come with suggestion boxes. No more birds. Story’s six feet under just like Gladys. See, I can finally remember it now that I can hear myself think.

#eugh #og #emptying notes #essays

25 notes · View notes

patchwork-panda · 4 years

Text

If A Moment Is All We Are (21/?)

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24121633/chapters/65002714

I stared at the rather unkempt-looking man before us, a man who, at the moment, looked more like a large purple caterpillar with spiky black hair and thick, round glasses than an actual human being. I shifted uncomfortably on my feet as Katai readjusted his glasses and shuffled forward a little, keeping the plush purple fabric of his futon gathered as closely about his body as he could.

This... is the hacker Dazai wanted me to contact?

I found myself tightening my grip on Kunikida’s sleeve as Katai turned his attention to me, his face bathed in the eerie, blue glow of his many computer monitors. I saw his dark eyes narrow behind his glasses as he squinted at my face, but when I returned his scrutinizing gaze with a quizzical one of my own, Katai immediately looked away. There was something really odd, yet uncomfortably familiar about his skittish behavior but at the moment, I was feeling too creeped out to think too much on it.

Still hanging onto the thin black fabric of Kunikida’s sleeve, I took a couple of tiny steps to my left tucking a little more of myself out of view. As much as I didn’t like hiding behind the tall blonde, I liked the weird looks Katai was giving me even less and if I wanted to be completely honest with myself, it felt oddly safe behind Kunikida’s broad back. Thankfully, Kunikida seemed to sense my unease and he shifted his stance in an almost protective manner in line with my movements..

“This is your old friend? This is Katai-san?” I asked.

Grimacing slightly, Kunikida nodded. His gray-green eyes swept over the piles of garbage around the room, then narrowed in distaste.

“Although he looks like this,” he said, turning slightly to look at me, “Katai is an extremely talented information broker and hacker.”

His lips twitched in a flicker of a smile when he saw that I was hiding behind him. I might’ve missed it if I hadn’t been staring so intensely at his face.

“He’s capable of processing data several dozen times faster than a normal human—to the point where he can single-handedly take on military cyberwarfare.”

My mouth dropped open. I poked my head out again to stare at Katai.

“For real?”

The words were scarcely out of my mouth when Katai suddenly let out a loud sob and sagged down into a grubby pile of gloom and purple futon fabric.

“C-congratulations, Kunikida-san!” he bawled, ripping off his own round glasses and furiously wiping at his streaming eyes with one brown haori sleeve. “To think you found your other half so soon ahead of schedule! I, Tayama Katai, wish you a long and prosperous union—”

I let go of Kunikida immediately and flushed scarlet.

“Wait a minute! Wait a minute!!” I squeaked. “What are you talking about—?!”

But Katai wasn’t listening to me—he was too busy crying.

“I was beginning to wonder when you’d come by to visit,” he hiccuped, snot visibly dripping out of his nose, “but never in my wildest dreams did I think—!”

He paused for a moment to wipe the snot from his face and I backed away in horror.

“That the next time you came by to visit, you’d be bringing your fiancee—”

“YOU’VE GOT THE WRONG IDEA!!” Kunikida bellowed, grabbing Katai by the collar of his shirt and shaking him furiously. “Kusunoki-kun is a colleague from work and I brought her here because of a case, you damned crackpot!”

Katai stopped crying at once. Letting out one loud, dramatic sniff, he stuck his glasses back on his face and blinked up at Kunikida, whose neck and ears had turned a bright, fiery red.

“Oh,” he said, sounding slightly disappointed.

His eyes darted to me (for only a millisecond). He frowned.

“You sure...?”

I couldn’t see the look on Kunikida’s face but judging from Katai’s reaction, it must’ve been answer enough. Katai didn’t ask again and Kunikida dropped him.

Instead, he wiped at his face again, sniffled once more, and turned and bowed to the wall on my right.

“Nice to meet you, Kusunoki-san,” he said politely, still facing the wall. “I am Tayama Katai. How can I help you?”

I blinked.

“Is he... talking to me?” I asked, shooting a glance at Kunikida, who groaned and covered his reddened face with one large hand and nodded.

Oh. So this was why Dazai suggested Kunikida come here with me.

Apparently Katai was one of those guys who had trouble talking to women. Katai wasn’t being creepy with all those odd, furtive looks he’d shot me earlier; that was literally the longest he could stand looking at me for.

I made a face.

Did I act like this while I was cooped up too? Dear God, I hope not...

“Umm... I’m Kusunoki Kyou.”

I took out the black access card from inside my jacket and placed it on the floor, near the corner of Katai’s futon, leaving it there the way you’d leave a treat for a very skittish cat.

“I was wondering if you could help me find someone,” I said, retreating backwards and sitting on my knees near the doors. “A man named Tsushima Shuji. He’s an accountant at this big company...”

As I carefully explained the case to Katai, I saw Kunikida turn and quietly leave the room. I didn’t think anything of it and was about to ask Katai about the black card when I heard a loud clattering and a splash from somewhere behind me.

“What the—?”

I turned my head to see Kunikida standing at the sink near Katai’s front door. His black shirtsleeves were rolled up past the elbows and he was furiously washing the dishes and stacking them in the dish rack nearby. I swallowed dryly, feeling a familiar heat creep over my cheeks as I watched him take a step back from the counter and wipe his large hands on one of Katai’s grimy dishcloths.

Wow. I can see the definition in his forearms from all the way over here...

“I see,” Katai mumbled, startling me.

I jerked back around to face him.

“So you want me to use this card to find Tsushima?” Katai asked, turning the black access card over in his hands.

“Y-yes,” I stammered, hoping Katai couldn’t tell if I was blushing or not. “And, if possible, try to find the money that was stolen or at least a trace of the hacker. I’m not sure if you can do that with just this card... Should I explain what this is?”

“No need,” Katai replied, now squinting into the gold wiring inside the card. “I think I know. Just a moment, please.”

Readjusting his futon where it was slipping off his head, Katai tucked the card into the folds of his brown Haori and shuffled over to the monitors. As he was busying himself with his computers, I heard a loud clattering noise from somewhere far behind me and turned to look.

It was Kunikida and he was heading for the door with several large, heavy-looking bags of garbage that jangled noisily as he dragged them along. I was about to get up and ask if he needed any help when I saw him kick open Katai’s front door with an angry roar and march down the hallway with all of the bags thrown over his shoulder.

Holy shit...

In the time it had taken me to give the briefest of explanations to Katai, Kunikida had cleared out the entire antechamber. Gone was the collection of empty sake bottles, gone were the bags of garbage near the sink—even the few pairs of shoes left near the door had been organized neatly (including the ones we’d taken off). I heard yet more noisy clattering from down the hall as, from the sound of it, Kunikida kicked open several more doors and headed out to the garbage room.

Wincing slightly as the front door slammed shut by itself, I glanced back at Katai, only to find that I was far more focused on the piles of garbage collecting all around the corners than on the case. Kunikida was being kind when he’d said Katai’s living situation would be “familiar” to me. Identical was more like it. The only difference between Katai’s apartment and my old one was that his room was full of tech instead of anime posters. Honestly, Katai’s place was probably cleaner than mine was; at least he had the good sense to put all his trash away in bags rather than just tossing it into corners and letting it get all moldy.

I shuddered as I thought about Kunikida being the one to venture into my otaku cave to retrieve my belongings the night I’d been rescued. I could picture him cracking open the door, pinching his nose shut and staring all around him in obvious disgust as he navigated his way between random piles of crap—garbage and dirty laundry that was in such a state, they definitely would’ve been censored if this were an anime production. What if on his way into my main room, he’d slipped on that one banana peel that hadn’t quite made its way into the garbage bin in the kitchen? And then landed in a pile of discarded undergarments. What if he’d seen my granny panties or worse, ended up touching one?!

I bit back a groan.

How could I have ever thought I had a chance with Kunikida?

Even if he thought I was cute, even if I somehow managed to embody all fifty-eight traits of his ideal woman, Kunikida would never see me as anything more than a smelly shut-in—!

“Kusunoki-kun?”

“Huh?!”

I snapped to attention but, predictably, Katai still wasn’t looking at me. He was still facing the wall to my right even though he was clearly addressing me.

“Yes, Katai-san?”

Katai frowned.

“Finding Tsushima using this data alone could prove difficult. Would you mind if I tried tracing the money first and seeing if that gives us any leads?”

When I shook my head no, Katai looked back to the screen.

“Okay, then. Do you remember which account the money was stolen from?”

“It was a ‘business expenditures’ account,” I recalled, suddenly realizing I’d left the printouts at the Agency in my rush to leave.

Katai nodded.

“Got it. Hang on.”

He extended one hand towards the wall of computers and at once, the light in the room changed from pale blue to a bright, forest green. I watched, jaw hanging slack as one of the computer towers suddenly erupted in a storm of tiny green lightning bolts, the corresponding monitor flickering violently as lines of code began flying across the screen at incredible speeds. Within seconds several windows had popped up, one of which displayed rows and rows of names and numbers. It was a large spreadsheet and as I stared at the screen, I realized Katai had just gotten into the bank account without touching the card or the computer.

“What... did you do?” I asked, amazed.

“My Ability lets me control electronics without touching them,” Katai explained. “It works best when I’m comfortable...”

He pulled the futon covers higher over his head and continued to stare at the wall to my right.

“And I’m most comfortable here, in my apartment, with Yoshiko.”

Yoshiko...?

I looked around but when I didn’t see anything even remotely resembling a “Yoshiko” in Katai’s apartment, I shrugged and got up to go look at the spreadsheet Katai had pulled up. “I think this is right,” I said, pointing at a familiar-looking line. “This is the business account we’re looking at.”

“Really?” Katai asked, sounding puzzled.

He raised his hand, the screen flickered again and a bar chart and some kind of graphic appeared on the right.

“It’s completely empty.”

“That means it’s the right one,” I said. “Can you trace the money from here, by any chance?”

“Let’s see.”

Once again, Katai raised his hand. The screen flickered a little, then glowed green but this time, no new windows popped up.

“Huh. That’s strange,” Katai muttered. “Let’s try something else.”

This time, he lifted both hands and pointed his fingers at the screen. I thought I felt an odd breeze waft about the room as that bright green glow returned but when both the breeze and the glow had died down, I saw that once again, there was no change to the screen.

“Katai-san,” I said slowly, “What’s happening...?”

“I can’t find it.”

“What?”

“I can’t trace the hack,” Katai said numbly. “Well, I tried but the money’s gone. It went to some other account I can’t get into.”

He gathered the futon covers more closely about his body and parked himself in front of the computer screen, muttering things I didn’t quite understand—it was probably computer speak of some sort. As he sat there mumbling to himself and trying to find a way around the security systems, shooting bolts of green lightning here and there out of his hands, I heard the door creak open and realized Kunikida was back. He wasn’t here for long and I watched as he grabbed another set of trash bags and headed back out the door.

“So you two are old friends, huh?” I asked, glancing back at Katai the moment Kunikida was gone. “How... did you guys meet?”

Katai stopped mumbling to himself long enough to shoot back a quick reply.

“He dragged me out of my home and brought me to the Agency. They needed my help with something...”

He shuddered.

“It’s been a while and honestly I can’t remember the details too well.”

It’s either that or maybe he doesn’t actually want to recall them, I thought as I saw Katai huddle himself deeper in his blankets.

“Right... Katai-san? Can I ask you something else?”

I shot a quick look behind me to make sure Kunikida was still out in the hall. At first, Katai didn’t seem to have heard me but when I realized he was sitting stock-still, waiting for me to ask, I went for it.

“Why... did you think I was Kunikida-san’s fiance?”

Katai stopped shivering long enough to turn towards the right wall again.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he asked blankly. “You seem close. He doesn’t usually go out of his way to help the newbies. Unless, of course, he vouched for you to join the Agency and is now acting as your mentor?”

“He is,” I admitted, feeling my heart sink slightly.

I rubbed my arm.

So that was it. I was half-hoping maybe Katai saw something I hadn’t when he’d assumed Kunikida and I were together but turns out, it was just Kunikida being a professional and being kind to me. As usual.

I sighed.

“How about this...” Katai said, slowly.

He sat up a little more so that the covers fell off his shoulders and piled around his torso. He turned once again to the wall on the right and spoke.

“I’m going to see if I can trace Tsushima’s activity, since I can’t get into whatever sort of ‘bank account’ is being used to store the money. If I do that, I should be able to find either the money or the person.”

He readjusted his glasses and readjusted his position in the futon.

“We should wait for your case partner before I do this. He’s going to want to see the findings too, regardless of the result.”

“Case partner?” I asked, “But Dazai’s not even here—”

“Dazai-san is your case partner?” Katai asked, sounding very surprised. “But I thought Kunikida-san was working with you? He’s the one who brought you to see me.”

I shook my head but switched to talking when I remembered Katai wouldn’t be able to see it, since he still wasn’t looking at me.

“No, Kunikida-san isn’t my case partner. Well, not this time, anyway. He was just nice enough to introduce me to you since you know each other so well.”

“I see...” Katai mumbled, rubbing his chin. “Seems you’re pretty lucky, Kusunoki-san.”

I stared at him.

“Lucky...? What do you mean by that?”

Katai shrugged. Still not looking me in the eye, he spoke.

“He doesn’t usually take time out of his busy schedule to help the newbies on case, unless it’s a case he’s already working or it’s something big enough to affect the whole city.”

He tapped one of the computer towers.

“He must like you a lot.”

“Katai-san...”

I felt a small, sheepish smile crawl across my face.

What a nice thing to say. But could it actually be true...?

Just then, my phone started buzzing in my pocket but when it took it out so I could read the message, my smile disappeared.

“So, did you confess yet?” it read.

I sighed.

Dazai.

I didn’t even feel like acknowledging the text, so I held my phone as close to my body as I could, preparing to erase it. But before I could hit “delete,” a second, more incriminating message appeared and this one almost made my heart stop in my chest.

“You should! I made sure all the conditions were absolutely perfect before you left for Katai’s place.”

I heard a subtle creaking from the antechamber, followed by several heavy footsteps and I realized Kunikida was on his way back in.

“How’s it going in there?” he called as he walked towards us.

Shit!

Feeling frantic, I hurried to shoot back a text before Dazai could say anything else but it was too late—the phone was going off again.

“Don’t forget,” the words popped up on the screen, as I scrambled to type something back, “He thinks you’re cute!”

Stop! Stop texting me!

“Find anything important?” Kunikida asked, sitting down next to me just as the final message (and nail in my coffin) appeared with a tinny eight-bit chime.

“;)”

I blanched. Without thinking about what I was doing, I tried to shove the phone inside my jacket to hide it. However, in my panic, I’d completely forgotten there weren’t any pockets on the inside and the phone clattered noisily to floor, where it fell face up on the tatami mats, screen unlocked, the winky face emoticon on full display.

Kunikida cleared his throat.

“Uh,” he started.

Quick as a flash, I grabbed the phone and this time, managed to successfully put it in my skirt pocket.

Kunikida raised an eyebrow.

“...Was that Dazai?” he asked quietly.

“Y-yeah, he just wanted to know what we got so far...”

“I see.”

Luckily, Katai chose this moment to call out to us.

“I found something!”

Ahead of us, the screens were changing rapidly, as Katai continued tracing Tsushima. Window after window popped up on the monitor, each one getting covered by a new one so quickly I couldn’t see what was happening.

“I’m tracing Tsushima’s activity right now,” Katai said. “It’s quite the rabbit hole we’re going down. It looks like he’s virtually dropped off the face of the earth about a month ago. I can’t find anything on him that’s more recent.”

I stared.

“What? But the company thinks he stole the money—”

“That’s the thing,” Katai interrupted, looking perplexed, “every bank account that he’s even remotely involved in shows no activity—even the ones he managed at the company, and there were a lot of those. It looks like he hasn’t spent any money at all himself either. What’s more interesting is this.”

He directed his left index finger at the screen and a window with columns of numbers and names appeared.

“This is a security log. It looks like someone used Tsushima’s company badge to get into the building just yesterday evening.”

“Yesterday evening?” I repeated.

And that bomb had gone off in that same building just this morning. No wonder Tanaka was having his bodyguard vet everyone. He’d probably increased security because he knew there would be some kind of threat. Dimly, I thought back to the dead black bird I’d seen in Tanaka’s trash can this morning.

“I’m going to see if I can pull up alternate identities for Tsushima,” Katai said, already bringing up several new windows on a second monitor. “Perhaps he’s still active, just not using the name Tsushima Shuji any more. If so, I should be able to find something...”

As Katai continued trying to track down Tsushima, I chanced a look at Kunikida on my left. He looked like he was watching the screen and I could see the lines of green text scrolling across Katai’s monitors reflected in his narrow, rectangular glasses but behind them, the expression his gray-green eyes looked faraway, thoughtful...

Was he thinking about the texts I’d gotten from Dazai? Or was he just thinking about my case?

“I found something,” Katai declared.

A window with several folders appeared on his main monitor. The first one looked faded, the image appearing faded with some kind of gray overlay. A symbol that looked like a lock flickered over the screen. Katai pointed a finger at it and at once, the lock symbol disappeared; the color of the folder immediately brightened up and the folder flipped open.

“This is Tsushima’s employee file,” Katai said. “Rather poorly encrypted if you ask me—this was by far the easiest thing I’ve hacked all day. Looks like the data in this file is very, very old.”

A document appeared on the screen.

“I see...” Katai mumbled, scrolling through it. “The name Tsushima Shuji seems to be some kind of alias. His real name is...”

A second document appeared but the moment I saw the name and address at the top, I felt my blood turn to ice in my veins. Feeling almost dizzy in my confusion, I climbed to my feet and approached the monitor, my hand outstretched towards the image.

“The address is wrong,” I whispered, barely hearing Katai’s protests and touching the screen. “This is wrong.”

“Kusunoki?” Kunikida murmured.

I could sense him getting up and following me to the wall of monitors, but I could not tear my eyes away from the photograph that had just appeared on Katai’s monitor.

There, in the middle of the screen, was a very familiar photograph of a thin man, with small, dark eyes and a tiny pair of round, circular glasses perched elegantly on his slightly hooked nose. It was a picture of Yamazaki Shuji, Mrs. Yamazaki’s husband and appeared to have been taken within a few years of the one hanging in Mrs. Yamazaki’s apartment living room.

***

“Kusunoki-kun!”

Kunikida was calling for me but I was barely aware of it. I had only one thing in mind and that was getting to the apartment listed as Mr. Yamazaki’s as quickly as possible.

What was going on? Why was Mr. Yamazaki’s address listed as a place two blocks from here when Mrs. Yamazaki told me he was living and working abroad?

“Kusunoki-kun!!” Kunikida’s voice echoed after me as I tore down the hall, heading for the stairs. “Come back!!”

But even as I heard his heavy footsteps chasing after me, I’d already reached the outside. Flinging open the main door of Katai’s apartment complex, I burst into the bright afternoon sun, blinking and rubbing my eyes as I ripped out my phone and punched in the address I’d seen on Katai’s monitor. It took only a second to plot a route and the instant the map appeared on my screen, I raced down the quiet, empty streets.

What was Mr. Yamazaki doing in Yokohama, working with an investment firm that likely had ties to the Port Mafia? Had someone stolen his identity? Or worse...

I felt my feet slow as a horrible thought condensed in my head.

What if Mr. Yamazaki was involved in something shady? Something that had to do with the building being blown up this morning or Mrs. Yamazaki being murdered in my vision...? Was I about to find something horrible in that apartment down the street?

I must’ve gone halfway down the block when Kunikida finally caught up to me. Though I was no longer running away from him, he grabbed me roughly by the arm and jerked me back with one powerful tug, spinning me all the way around so that I was forced to look him in the face.

“Where are you going?” he demanded, his breath coming in sharp gasps, “Didn’t you hear me calling after you?”

Barely...

“Not really,” I mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

I tried to shake my elbow out of his grip but Kunikida was not having it.

“Did you hear nothing I said to you at the infirmary this morning?” he snapped, his grip tightening around my arm. “About being reckless and endangering yourself?”

His gray-green eyes flashed angrily.

“Why the hell are you running off without warning again and what exactly are you trying to do? Answer me!!”

Wincing at the sheer volume of his voice, I managed to answer in a small, shaky voice.

“I... I’m going to Yamazaki Shuji-san’s apartment.”

Kunikida didn’t seem to understand. His eyebrows furrowed together and he didn’t let go of my arm.

“The man you’re trying to track down?”

“Yes,” I said, unease gnawing at my insides as the name physically crossed my lips. “I recognize that photo. That’s the same Yamazaki Shuji-san who’s married to Yamazaki Tomie-san, my old neighbor.”

“Yamazaki Tomie,” Kunikida repeated slowly, his grip on my arm finally loosening when he sensed I was no longer going to run. “Wasn’t she the person whose murder you witnessed with your power?”

Unable to meet Kunikida’s eyes, I nodded, letting my arm dangle limply in my mentor’s grip.

“I don’t understand why but according to what Katai-san found, Yamazaki Shuji-san’s home address is listed as a place close by, not the apartment where his wife lived. She... his wife told me he lived and worked abroad and that he’s almost never here in Yokohama. But.. if he is here and he seems to be involved with that company somehow...”

I stared at the red ribbon tied around Kunikida’s neck, feeling oddly like I’d regressed to my old shut-in self, unable to look my mentor in the face the way Katai hadn’t been able to look at me.

“Then I need to find out why. If Katai-san’s information is correct, then something strange is going on with Yamazaki Shuji. It looks like he handled large sums of money when he worked with the company and to be honest with you...”

I stared down at his shoes.

“This makes me afraid that Yamazaki Tomie-san is still in danger of being murdered. I need to do what I can to keep her safe.”

I bit my lip.

“Kunikida-san... You should go back without me. I’ve taken up enough of your time already and this address is really close by. I’ll go investigate Shuji-san before I head back to the Agency—”

“No.”

I snapped up to look at him.

“No—? What do you mean ‘no?’” I exclaimed, “It’s my case—!”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Kunikida’s voice was firm.

“I’m coming with you.”

I was confused.

“Kunikida-san...?”

He let go of me and my arm finally slid out of his grip. I couldn’t stop staring at him. Kunikida looked troubled.

“Why?”

“I may not be working this case with you,” Kunikida said quietly, pulling out his notebook and writing several things down very quickly, “but President Fukuzawa tasked me with taking care of you... and I take that duty very seriously.”

Slapping his notebook shut, he looked up at me, his gray-green eyes as hard as steel behind his thin, rectangular glasses.

“You can investigate the rest of the case on your own but I would be a fool to let you go to that apartment unaccompanied—especially in light of the explosion at the company headquarters this morning.”

He gripped his notebook hard, his knuckles blanching against the olive-green cover.

“I’m not letting you get hurt. Not while I’m still here...”

“K-Kunikida-san...?

My fingers flew to my lips, my pulse suddenly racing.

Was Katai right? Was Kunikida being nice to me because...?

“W-what I’m trying to say,” Kunikida said, the tips of his ears turning pink, “is that from the way you behaved just now, it’s clear that you’re still just as reckless as ever. If you go in that apartment by yourself and something happens, how would any of us be able to reach you in time?”

I let my hands drop away from my face, my cheeks coloring now from shame rather than excitement.

Oh.

“I see,” I mumbled, lifting my phone back up. “I guess I should text Dazai-san then, since it’s his case too. Let him know what’s going on...”

So that’s it. Kunikida-san still thinks I can’t handle myself...

I sighed.

Not that I’d done anything to prove him wrong...

Swiping through the screen to get rid of my map, I found the last series of texts Dazai had sent me and shot a quick message back. But as soon as I closed the text app, I found myself staring at the set of photos I had taken just this morning, at Minato Mirai.

It felt like so long ago, I thought, staring at the photo of the pastel-toned skyline I’d meant to send Kunikida early this morning but forgotten to in the chaos.

Was there any point to still sending it? Now that I knew what Kunikida really thought of me...?

“Kusunoki-kun?”

I jumped, nearly dropping my phone. I hadn’t been expecting that deep voice to be coming from so close by and when I looked up, squeezing my phone tightly between my fingers, I saw that Kunikida was standing very close to me. His sage-colored eyes were soft and contemplative as he observed me and although I knew he thought of me only as a troublesome kohai, I felt my heart race just a little bit faster. He was just so tall and so attractive up close...

“Y-yes?” I asked, heart hammering in my chest.

Kunikida’s gaze flicked down to my phone momentarily before coming back up to meet mine.

“Is... everything okay?” he asked, “With Dazai, that is...”

Unsure of what his tone was, I studied him.

“What do you mean?”

Why was he asking about Dazai?

“Y-yes,” I answered, feeling oddly hesitant. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Kunikida rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. I noticed that he still hadn’t put his notebook away. One of his fingers was still sandwiched between the pages and...

Wait.

I squinted.

..was that page fifty-three?

“Well,” he began, his eyes flitting away from me once again as the corners of his lips dropped down into a frown. He was clearly deep in thought.

“I know Dazai-san is not the easiest person to get along with and I know that he likes to push peoples’ buttons. But more than that, I know how he is with women... and I know that you’ve spent a fair amount of time together since the beginning...”

His gray-green eyes met mine once more.

“Kusunoki-kun... did something...?”

He trailed off and I got his meaning at once.

“NO!” I exclaimed, raising my hands even as the color rose in my cheeks. “No! Absolutely not! Nothing is going on with Dazai-san, I swear—”

I was interrupted by a small ping from my phone. I looked down and to my horror, saw that I had just received yet another text message from Dazai.

“A beautiful morning indeed. But it still pales in comparison to you. ;)”

In my haste to put the phone away earlier, I’d accidentally sent the photo meant for Kunikida to Dazai.

And Dazai had just responded.

Shit. Even when he wasn’t here, he was still somehow able to ruin everything...!

Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I glanced back up at Kunikida, trying to wipe the scowl off my face in favor of something more neutral, more professional...

“Nothing’s going on between me and Dazai-san,” I said firmly.

Kunikida didn’t look entirely convinced.

“You sure?” he asked, crossing his arms.

I nodded and he sighed.

“The only reason I ask is... Lately, I’ve seen the two of you talking together. A lot. And it seems like after speaking with him, you get... agitated. I don’t know what the exact nature of these conversations is but...”

His frown deepened and now I could clearly see the look of concern on his face.

“If you’re really not getting along... if he’s doing or saying anything that’s upsetting to you...”

“Kunikida-san...”

It physically hurt to see that look on Kunikida’s handsome face and without meaning to, I reached out to touch his arm.

If only I could tell him the truth... that I liked him—really liked him, and that the only secrets I was keeping from him were about his notebook and my feelings...

But I wasn’t ready yet. I still wasn’t anywhere near close to his level or his ideal woman right now and he and I both knew it.

It was just too soon...

“We can reassign you,” he said finally.

I stopped reaching for him at once.

“Huh?”

“You don’t have to work with him if you don’t want to,” Kunikida said as I quickly moved to shove both hands back into my pockets as far as they would go. “We won’t push you to. If spending time alone with Dazai is proving to be too much for you—”

“It’s not,” I said quickly. “I can handle him, Kunikida-san, I mean it.”

And if I couldn’t now, I’d find a way to as soon as possible. For you, Kunikida-san...

I pulled my phone back out, outright deleted the message from Dazai (if I needed to contact him again, I’m sure he’d somehow find a way to reach me first) and pulled out the map once again.

“We should get going,” I said, glancing down the street, which was still mostly empty, “Shuji-san’s apartment is pretty closeby. I think we’ve only got a block and a half to go...”

Trailing off, I looked back up at Kunikida, who was once again writing something down in his notebook. When he noticed I was looking, he quickly closed the notebook with an audible snap. For a brief moment, there was an unreadable expression in his eyes, similar to the one I’d seen in Dazai’s earlier this morning, while we were leaving Minato Mirai.

I studied him.

“Kunikida-san...” I trailed off. “Is everything...?”

Suddenly, there was a sound like a cannon going off, as if someone had detonated a firework too close to the ground. The pavement shook and I was instantly thrown off balance, stumbling forward until I nearly collided with Kunikida’s chest. Thankfully, the tall, blonde detective was quicker to respond than I was and he grabbed hold of me before I could fall any further.

There was another distant rumble, like an aftershock. Kunikida’s arms instantly tightened around me and I felt all the blood in my veins turn to fire when I realized Kunikida Doppo was actually holding me in his arms.

“Kusunoki,” he gasped, “Are you alright?”

For a moment, I couldn’t even breathe, much less answer.

Kunikida’s gray-green eyes were so much greener and more beautiful up close; I could see flecks of gold and brown in his irises as he stared down at me, his thick blonde brows furrowed together in concern.

“Kusunoki...?”

“I’m... I’m fine...”

I couldn’t look away from his eyes and though the ground had finally stopped shaking, I still found myself unable to stand. Kunikida’s arms felt so strong and secure around me. I felt so safe here in his arms and when I breathed in, I could smell a subtle fragrance, like citrus or spice... some kind of cologne or aftershave...

He smells really good... Would he notice if I laid my head against his chest?

But then a second explosion sounded—too soon after the first—and this time, I turned around just in time to see a fireball punching into the sky.

“Oh no...”

The explosions were coming from two streets away... around the area where Mr. Yamazaki’s apartment was supposed to be.

Exchanging a quick glance, we hurriedly parted from each other and began sprinting towards the area together. We arrived just in time to see a small stream of people rushing out of the building, several of whom were already on their phones, frantically babbling to relatives or the authorities. Thick black smoke was billowing out of the shattered windows of a single apartment room three stories up, flames licking the tops of the ruined window frames as tiny pieces of broken glass and blackened wood rained down on the street below. As we stopped on the street corner opposite the building, I heard a tell-tale wail of sirens as a fire engine came rushing towards us from far away, the shouts of the military police following closely in their wake.

Numbly, shakily, I pulled out my phone and checked the address I’d entered. Mr. Yamazaki had been living on the third floor. If he had been in the room at the time of the explosion, then that meant he was probably dead...

I wobbled on my feet.

“We were too late...”

“Too late?”

Kunikida’s voice was suddenly as cold as ice. I turned around to see him staring at me incredulously, his notebook clutched so tightly in his hand that his knuckles were going white, indents appearing on the olive green cover as he unconsciously began to make a fist. Although he was standing perfectly still, the very air around him seemed to crackle with energy, like the brief moment of calm before the storm and I felt my breath catch in my throat as I saw the clouds gathering in his eyes, now more slate-gray than green.

Kunikida was angry.

Very angry.

His eyes narrowed sharply and I braced myself.

“Too late?!” he spat, marching towards me. “And just what do you mean by that?”

He stopped just before me, his fists shaking with barely suppressed rage as he glared down at me, his glasses flashing in the glow of the fire like lightning.

“If you or I had been in there,” he whispered harshly, “We would’ve gotten blown up along with everyone and everything else inside that room! Kusunoki, you don’t even know if Yamazaki Shuji was in there!”

“Th-that’s true...”

But something wasn’t right. The gears in my head started turning.

“Why blow up Yamazaki Shuji’s apartment?” I wondered out loud. “Did someone figure out for sure that he was the one stealing the money? Even Dazai-san and I didn’t get that far yet.”

If only I’d been able to go in and take a look... but as it stood...

I glanced back up at the apartment, staring at the third story windows, where Mr. Yamazaki’s apartment should have been.

Any evidence that may have been inside that room had just gone up in smoke... along with Mr. Yamazaki, if he had been in there.

“There must have been something in there,” I thought aloud. “Evidence. Something important. Maybe someone was trying to cover their tracks by destroying the evidence or Yamazaki-san.”

I turned to face Kunikida.

“What do you think?”

“That’s possible,” Kunikida replied, his voice low, “But whoever’s involved could also be trying to get rid of the detectives investigating before they can figure out the truth behind these thefts.”

No sooner were the words out of his mouth than I heard a loud rushing noise, followed by a thunderous crack coming from somewhere behind me. I whirled around just in time to see every window in the third story row shatter in a spectacular blaze of heat and light as something I could only describe as an actual comet came barreling towards me—

“KUSUNOKI—!!”

And then it was gone—blocked from view by a tall figure wearing beige and black clothes...

Time seemed to slow. I could feel my body falling backwards. A ball of flame soared overhead, just past my face, past the long, blonde ponytail sailing in the air before me. A burning ember landed on the tip of my nose and I felt it sizzle against my skin...

I hit the ground. Asphalt crunched underneath my back as I landed painfully in the middle of the street, all the air knocked out of my lungs by the heavy weight now resting on top of me. I could still feel the heat of the burning projectile on the side of my face as it landed nearby, smoldering in a tiny, cracked crater in the road. I heard someone groan—someone with a deep, masculine voice and I felt everything come to a standstill when I realized who was on top of me.

Kunikida Doppo was on top of me.

“Kusunoki...”

His voice was low and husky in my ear as he spoke and his body was warm and solid against mine. I could actually feel every muscle in his body shifting as he pushed himself up and off of me and in a brief moment of insanity, I considered pulling him back down with me.

That moment ended when I heard him take in a breath that sounded more like a soft hiss of pain.

“K-Kunikida-san?”

As he got to his feet, I instantly understood why I hadn’t hit my head when I’d gone down. Kunikida had cradled the back of my skull with one large hand as I fell.

He’d protected me again.

Now, his black sleeves were scuffed up, even ripped in some places and there were deep, bloody scratches on the back of his hand. When he gingerly extended that hand out towards me to help me up, I felt the flush of excitement in my cheeks morph into one of deep-seated guilt.

I couldn’t look at him as I took his hand. The pull of my Ability could barely be felt through the shame.

It was my fault he’d gotten hurt...

“You okay?” Kunikida asked, pulling me to my feet.

Stop it. Stop being so kind to me and putting yourself in harm’s way for me... I don’t deserve it.

I nodded, still staring at the blood welling on his pale skin.

“Yeah. You?”

Kunikida lifted his hand to his face, glanced at it, and reached into his pocket for a handkerchief. I mentally kicked myself for not offering one first.

“I’m fine.”

As I watched him wipe away the blood on the back of his hand, I checked my pockets for bandages. But they were all in my bag—the messenger bag that I’d left behind at the Agency office. I hung my head.

“I’m sorry, Kunikida-san.”

“It’s alright. It’s just a scratch,” Kunikida said, putting his handkerchief away. “I’m just glad you’re not hurt.”

I thought I saw a shadow of a smile cross his face as he looked at me and for a moment, I wished that he wasn’t here and that I had gotten hurt. I would’ve deserved it. It was my fault for not paying attention and being reckless in the first place.

I should be the one with torn sleeves and bloody knuckles. Not him...

I felt something burning behind my eyes and looked away when I realized I was going to cry.

If only I was half the woman described in his notebook... Kunikida’s ideal woman wouldn’t need to be protected like this. If I were anywhere close to his ideal, I would’ve been able to protect him...

As I struggled to regain my composure, I heard Kunikida speak.

“Kusunoki...”

I pressed my hand into my eyes to push away the tears, not caring that what little eye makeup I’d succeeded in putting on this morning was going to run and blinked up at him.

“Yeah?”

Kunikida’s gray-green eyes hardened just a fraction and he pressed his lips into a stern line.

“I think it’s best we take you off the case.”

For a second, I thought I hadn’t heard him correctly. But when I realized he was serious, my jaw dropped.

“What...? Why?!”

“It’s clear that you’re looking into something very dangerous here,” Kunikida stated, already taking out his green notebook. “You almost got caught in two explosions today: the one this morning at the company and this one here. Unless you can stop being reckless and start thinking ahead when you’re out on an investigation, you’re going to get yourself killed!”

I fell silent.

I hated to admit it but he was right. If I wanted to become a better detective, I was going to have to start doing better. Especially if I still wanted to earn Kunikida’s respect before confessing my feelings for him.

Kunikida sighed and started writing in his notebook.

“If Dazai-san still needs a case partner, I’ll have Atsushi-kun take your place. He’s already used to working with Dazai-san and he’s got combat experience. Maybe we can just have you swap assignments—”

“No.”

I was surprised he could hear me over the roar of the flames and the squealing of the sirens as the fire department finally arrived but he had.

Kunikida put down his notebook. His eyes narrowed.

“No?” he echoed, as if not sure what he had heard me correctly. “What do you mean ‘no?’”

“I said ‘no,’” I repeated, standing up straighter. “You’re not taking me off this case, Kunikida-san. Not when I’m finally figuring things out.”

If I left now, I’d never find out why Mrs. Yamazaki was supposed to be murdered in the first place. I didn’t want to leave if there was still a threat to her life. And if I left now... Kunikida would never respect me as a detective or a woman.

And what I want...

I lifted my head and firmly met his gaze.

...is to be a woman who can stand beside him. One who doesn’t need to be protected or hide behind his back.

Kunikida’s eyes flashed.

“Stand down, Kusunoki. That’s an order.”

“NO!!” I shouted.

Surprised by the sheer volume of my voice, Kunikida was stunned into silence.

“Three times...” I said quietly.

My hands were shaking and I clasped them together to make them stop. I felt the bandage over the back of my hand stretching against my skin.

“You’ve saved me three times now, Kunikida-san. First there was the art gallery. Then there was the serial kidnapper. And now, this.”

I swallowed dryly and continued staring into his eyes, slate-gray and unyielding, the softer tinge of green washed away by the harsh glow of the burning apartment.

“I... I don’t want you to see me as someone who always needs to be saved.”

I want to stand on equal ground with you. I want you to acknowledge me. I...!

Squeezing my eyes shut, I opened my mouth and let the words burst out.

“I want to become a woman worthy of your respect!”

For a moment, all I could hear was the dull, dwindling roar of the apartment fire across the street. There were a few scattered shouts and I could smell the pungent aroma of smoke and wet wood wafting through the air as the fire department managed to put out the blaze at last. Kunikida wasn’t speaking and neither was I and the words seemed to hang in the air between us like a dense cloud of smoke.

“Respect... huh,” Kunikida said at last.

I brought my hands up to my mouth.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, turning red, “I said something weird, didn’t I?”

That was too close for comfort—if things had gone on like this for too long, I might’ve accidentally confessed!!

I thought Dazai and his stupid text messages hadn’t gotten to me, but clearly they had...!!

“No. No, you didn’t,” Kunikida replied, covering up the lower half of his face and turning away from me.

Huh? Was I imagining it? Maybe it was just the lighting but... his face looked a little pink...

“I suppose I didn’t treat Atsushi-kun quite like this when he first started with us,” Kunikida admitted, running his uninjured hand through his choppy blonde bangs, “but Atsushi-kun also didn’t behave in such a way—no wait, he did. He was just able to fight his way out of it.”

And with that, Kunikida covered his face with both hands and let out a muffled scream of frustration. I watched, dumbfounded, as he started pacing back and forth on the sidewalk like a caged animal with his hands still glued to his face, which was slowly getting pinker and pinker the longer this went on. Whatever was going on in his head, Kunikida seemed to be at a loss. He was mumbling unintelligibly to himself under his breath as he paced and although seeing him like this worried me a little, I still found it kind of cute...

“Uh... Kunikida-san?”

At the sound of my voice, Kunikida stopped pacing immediately.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he sighed, finally taking his hands off his face (which was now bright red). “I have been treating you with kid gloves. Fine.”

I breathed in sharply.

“Fine?”

“I won’t take you off the case,” Kunikida clarified, “But if—and only if—you promise me you’re going to start prioritizing your own safety above the case. I’ll talk to Dazai about it so he knows as well but if you do one more reckless thing while working on this assignment, you’re done. You got that?”

I could’ve hugged him. But that would definitely be too much so I chose to bow as low as I could instead.

“Thank you!” I gasped. “I won’t let you down, I promise!”

“I’m sure you won’t,” Kunikida sighed. “Work hard, Kusunoki-kun. Take care of yourself and work hard and you’ll become a detective anyone can respect.”

He turned on his heel and strode back towards Katai’s place, his notebook tucked safely back into his vest.

“Now, come on. I think Katai wanted to give you some printouts before you ran out earlier. We’ll let the police handle this and you can get any relevant reports from them tomorrow.”

“Yes!”

As I chased after him down the sidewalk, I turned slightly to shoot one final look at the smoldering apartment behind me. Whatever was going on, I was going to get to the bottom of it. And it looked like I was going to need more information on my old neighbors to do it.

#bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #kunikida x oc #kunikida x reader #kunikida doppo #bsd kunikida #bsd kunikida doppo #bsd dazai #dazai x oc

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starwriterulia · 4 years

Text

A Fervid Greeting

Chapter Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 7260

Chris was watching the bacon and eggs cook as Seungmin and Changbin quietly watched TV when he heard his cell phone ring. He picked it up from the counter. Seeing the contact name and number, he answered. "Chris Bang speaking."

"Morning, Chris." Said police chief Jinyoung Park. "I didn't wake you up, did I?"

"No, sir. What's happening?"

"If you tune into the news, you can find out. I recorded it for you, so you don't have to turn on the TV and wait for them to repeat the message."

"Well," Chris looked over his shoulder. "A couple of the boys are watching a show right now, so that was awfully kind of you."

Jinyoung laughed. "I'm sending it to you now. I expect you boys to be at the station by seven."

"That shouldn't be a problem, sir."

"Good. See you then, Double Knock."

"Until then, sir." Chris ended the call, then stuffed his phone into his jeans. He turned around to face the living room and felt his phone vibrate; Chief Jinyoung had sent the video. "Changbin, Seungmin!" They glanced at their leader.

"Breakfast is ready. Come and fix your plates while I wake up Felix and Hyunjin. We need to be at city hall by seven." Said Chris.

"What happened?" Asked Changbin, stopping at the part of the counter closest to the living room as Chris came closer and Seungmin passed them to enter the kitchen.

"I don't know, but it's on the news." Chris paused beside the couch. Seungmin was busy making his plate. "Though, the chief did just send me a video of the news report." Chris took out his phone, swiped to view the message, and held it out.

Changbin took it. "Thanks, hyung."

"Don't mention it. Be right back." Chris said, and Changbin nodded. Changbin set down the phone on the island and took a plate from the overhead cupboards as Seungmin sat at the island and played the video. Chris left the living room and skidded across the antiqued brown wooden floor that was also in the kitchen and upstairs hallway.

Unlike the white drywall of the entrance and upstairs areas, the living room had wallpaper that was red like a wilted rose and patterned like the fur of a tabby cat. Its carpet was tawny brown, and matching light absorbing curtains were distributed in every room of the house. The only other rooms that had carpet were the bedrooms, studio and dojo. The doors of Bang Manor were simple: white with silver door knobs. But the black front door had an elegant, translucent window arch at its top. Matching window panels were on either side of that door.

Chris grasped the wooden handrail that matched the floor. The banisters were black metal rods, the newels the same wood as the handrail. He jogged up and walked to the first door on his left. Chris knocked before entering and heard Felix mewl. Chris flicked on the light and watched the boy pull himself up and stretch his arms with a silent yawn.

The bedroom was full of stuffed animals of every size and smelled of laundry and Doritos, its walls white except for one. Most of the plushies were squished into the hammock that hung from the far left corner of the room and stretched across the far wall, while others were on the bookshelf that had no books, it and the closet with folding doors on the right wall, and more were on the floor near his bed. His bedding was black, the pillows and underside of the blanket crimson red. The wall his bed was horizontal to had a mural of a fiery plain with a mountain of gold and jewels surrounded by burning forest. A flaming sword stuck out from the treasure, and fiery lightning rained upon the scene from black clouds speckled with embers.

"Time to wake up, Felix. We've got a meeting at city hall in an hour. There's eggs and bacon in the kitchen. Changbin has my phone, so you can catch up on what's happening." Chris said.

"OK. Thanks." The boy mumbled, rubbing his eyes. Chris left the room, closing the door behind him. He continued rightwards and knocked on the third and final door on that side of the hall before opening the door and turning on the light.

Hyunjin's bedroom walls were white, and the farthest had black illustrations depicting a red eyed figure sitting at the edge of a rooftop, looking onto the city below. An identical figure stalked a lanky figure with yellow eyes wielding a bloody knife. Finally, the red eyed man stood above the crumpled body of the skinny man, the assassin's dripping red hidden blade visible from his left sleeve. Blood spilled from the corpse and splattered onto the wall, which was patterned like brick. Above these scenes was a mantra in red: I am not blind.

There was a shrine to the right side of the room with framed pictures of each of the Stray Kids, along with a closet with folding doors. The five white candles were unlit, and the tea cup was empty, spare for the specks of leaves. Chris smelled the mirth Hyunjin had burned and Hyunjin's scent of lemongrass. His bedding was black but wasn't as cozy looking as Felix's, the pillowcases striped black and white. Hyunjin let out a whine as he stirred.

"Hyunjin, we have to be at city hall in an hour. There's breakfast in the kitchen, and the Chief sent me a video of what's going on you can look at with Felix." Said Chris.

"OK, I'm coming." Replied Hyunjin. Chris nodded, then left the bedroom and closed the door. He went downstairs and heard Felix's door open. Felix, in a loose orange shirt and black pyjama pants, crossed the hall to the bathroom between Chris' and Changbin's rooms. The second bathroom was through the first door on the right wall of the living room, the studio and dojo doors following it, to the left.

As he passed through the living room, Chris saw the television had been turned off. Chris ran a hand along the arm of the black couch. The loveseat and recliner matched the couch, but the recliner was made of leather. The coffee table had a black wooden frame with a foggy glass surface. He observed the picture in a simple black frame that was above the electric fireplace, behind the loveseat and recliner. Posed formally in their hero suits with mayor Brandon Gorge and the police chief before a blue backdrop were the Stray Kids.

Chris recalled how nervous they were before they were declared heroes with real powers instead of vigilantes with gimmicks up their sleeves. He remembered how they cried on the nights leading up to that day, afraid they would be falsely accused and imprisoned just for acting upon what came naturally to them. There wasn't even a court hearing: just a meeting at the city hall where the press was allowed an audience. While there were negative opinions, the general outlook of the public was loud enough for the city officials to properly analyse the evidence in front of them. This morning had a similar atmosphere, even though Chris hadn't seen the news report.

Changbin and Seungmin sat at the island. They each had a glass of orange juice. Chris met Changbin's eyes as he walked in. "Chan, this is pretty serious." Changbin said, tapping the cellphone that was face up on the counter. "You should really have a look at this."

"I will, Changbin." Replied Chris. "Let me fix my plate, and I'll do just that." Changbin gave a nod and stuffed his face with more bacon as Chan walked over and got a plate. He served himself, then sat beside Changbin and ate while he unlocked his phone and played the video.

The news anchor greeted the viewers and stated it was 6:00 o'clock, February 8, 2020. She said they would begin the news hour with breaking news. Residents of the Elizabeth Apartments had reported sounds of distress from the room next door to police around 3:15, that morning. (Chris heard Hyunjin come downstairs and briefly watched him enter the bathroom.) The victim was twenty year old Faith Lawson and the suspect her boyfriend, twenty one year old Han Jisung.

The neighbors who reported the kidnapping said the following to their news correspondent, some time after police arrived. (Felix entered the kitchen and said 'good morning'. Changbin and Seungmin answered him.) A middle aged husband and wife were shown with the male reporter outside of the apartments. (Felix got his plate and began to put food on it.)

The woman said they were awakened by Faith's sudden screaming. They heard Jisung tell Faith that she should 'Be still and quiet, and it won't be so bad.'. The husband said that they heard the couple having intercourse, the night before. (Hyunjin came out of the bathroom and walked into the kitchen and greeted the boys, who responded. He got a plate and filled it as Felix sat beside Seungmin.)

When the reporter asked if Faith and Jisung had ever fought, the husband and wife said 'no', that they seemed like a normal, happy couple. (Hyunjin took the empty stool beside Felix.) The video cut back to the newsroom. She said that the police had released censored photos of the crime scene and surveillance footage. She gave a graphic violence warning, then the video was played.

The camera in the lobby caught Jisung finishing his flight down the stairs, Faith over his shoulder. She was bound at her wrists and ankles with zip ties. Her forehead bled, an excessively large black bar edited to cover her wound. A copper coloured metal device with a detailed, key-like handle kept her mouth open. The outdoor camera showed a loitering black car. The driver opened the back door on the passenger side, then Jisung forced Faith in the backseat before entering behind her as slamming the door shut as the car sped away.

The reporter was shown again. She said that the car had arrived just minutes before Jisung was recorded fleeing the crime scene. The license plate of the vehicle had been captured, but the car hadn't been found. The screen swiped left to shows list of information about the car, driver, suspect and victim. Along with information already stated in the report, the woman said that the driver wore a copper coloured mask with an upside down cone shape carved into the forehead.

The anchor announced they would now show the photos. The scene was in the bedroom, the focus on the bed. The bedding was a mess, blood, saliva and urine on the sheets and pillows. The reporter said that police theorized that Jisung had woken Faith and struck her head with the device that was seen gagging her. The anchor stated that if anyone had any information on where the vehicle or Jisung had been after the kidnapping to contact the police as the number was shown at the bar at bottom of the screen. Then the video ended.

Chris blew hot air through his lips. "I'm surprised how much information the police released, but I guess they did it to warn the public." Seungmin and Hyunjin nodded, humming. "That's fucking scary." Everyone nodded and gave noises of agreement.

"Do you mind if I watch it again?" Asked Hyunjin. "I didn't see all of it."

"Of course." Chris answered, and pushed his phone into Hyunjin's hand. He played if again, Felix looking over to watch too. While the video played again, Seungmin rose from his stool, carried his plate to the sink and washed it.

"I wonder if this Jisung guy has a criminal record?" Pondered Seungmin.

"I guess we'll find out, when we get there." Replied Chris.

"He doesn't look like a criminal, at least." Commented Felix.

"That doesn't say anything about him, personality wise." Hyunjin said, as Seungmin seated himself again and Changbin rose to wash his plate. "Lots of bad people look unsuspicious."

"You make a point."

"Obviously, there's more going on than a simple kidnapping." Said Seungmin. "Whatever he used to subdue Faith with, it's some kind of medieval torture device."

"Yep yep," Replied Chris. "But it's nearly impossible to tell what it is, since we've only seen in use."

"I doubt the police have any guesses, either." Changbin said, returning to his chair. "And since we don't know where the car is, we'll have a harder time tracking them down."

"All we can do is find out what else the police know and do our best to find these guys and get Faith out of danger before it's too late." Chris said, and the other boys nodded. Soon enough, they all finished eating. Hyunjin volunteered to wash the dishes, so the boys went upstairs and into their room to change. While Seungmin's room was the third on the right side, Changbin's was first on the left and Chris' the second.

Chris' room had white walls, the left having posters of the Stray Kids illustrated like comic book characters by artists from a big comic book company. Individual portraits and group shots were scattered around the wall in an appealing way. Chris always chuckled when he looked upon certain posters. He had a lot of plushies in his his room, though not nearly as many as Felix had. They were neatly displayed on a bookshelf that had some books, the shelf on the wall opposite of the poster wall. Chris' bed was vertical to the far wall, the closet next to the shelf.

Chris opened his closet and took his suit from within. He removed his steel blue pyjama top and black pyjama pants that had thin white lines to make a checked pattern. Chris stepped into the matte charcoal one-piece spandex enforced with a thin layer of cotton for comfort and a cowl collar. The pitch black kneepads and elbow guards were enforced with steel-every members' gear was. The biceps, thighs and each side of the rib cage had three glossy black, diagonal strips of fake alligator skin tipped like spikes.

Chris brought out his gauntlets, which were made with glossy black leather and had steel knuckles and backside. The gloves had the stripes from the one-piece, except these looped around to the bottom. Chris took out and put on a black leather belt that had two pouches on either side. Its buckle was matte silver and had the letters DKC in black. Chris found his black leather boots, which came up to the middle of his shins, had a polished finish and had steel toes and soles. The bottom of the shoes had very good grips and were well padded, so Chris was able to be sneaky, despite the steel components. Finally, Chris put on his black leather cape that went a couple of inches past his knees and was tied to the collar of his costume with a lumberman's knot.

Chris exited his bedroom and saw Felix's bedroom door was halfway open. He saw Changbin behind the younger boy, helping an audibly struggling Felix zip up his black leather, full length sleeved shirt with a straight band collar. Felix had black leather pants held up by a black leather belt with a simple golden buckle with a pouch on the back, and kneepads. He had black leather shoes with half inch heels and steel toes and black leather fingerless gloves with his palms exposed.

"Ow, ow, ow!" Cried Felix, reaching a hand back and bending backwards a little.

"Well, if you stopped moving every time I move the zipper a milometer, you wouldn't be in pain and I could actually do this, today! Aish!" Changbin bickered. "Now straighten up." Felix complied, still whining.

"I should be able to do this in one go if..." Changbin jerked at the zipper, grunting. Felix continued to whimper, and cringed up his face. "If... argh, come on."

"Changbin," Chris said, walking into the room as Changbin and Felix watched him come in. "Let me take care of it."

"Yes, thank you." Changbin said, stepping aside, shaking out his hands. His costume had a waist length cape over his right shoulder that was white with a royal blue underside. It had a golden stripe along the edge and was attached to Changbin by an elastic strap under his arm. His long sleeved blouse with a Peter Pan collar and his harem pants were royal blue with white cuffs, the shirt's buttons and the two decorative buttons on the crotch white. He wore white leather boots with a golden stripe over the folded top parts of the shoes.

Chris came up behind Felix and grabbed onto the zipper. "OK, when I say 'three', suck in your guts."

"Wait, won't my shirt rip when I breathe out?" Felix replied, looking over his shoulder with doe eyes.

"If your powers are still working, no." Chris laughed, and so did Felix and Changbin. "Ready?"

"Yeah."

"OK: one... two... three!" Zip! Pop, crack!

"Aw," Felix said, right hand on his left shoulder as he rolled the joint and turned to look at his hyungs. "Did you guys hear that?"

Changbin and Chris chuckled, nodding. Chris said, "We did, yeah. You feeling alright, 'lix?"

"Yeah," Felix nodded. "I'm good. Ouch."

"Your breathing feels OK?"

"Yeah, feels fine, mate."

"OK, good!" Chris patted Felix's left shoulder, and Felix flinched, contorting his expression in reaction. "Sorry."

"You're fine..."

"Come on." Chris said, nodding to the exit. Felix gave a small nod as he and Changbin followed Chris out. Chris almost ran into Hyunjin, who was busy fiddling with the white cloth wrappings beneath his fingerless, black leather gloves. They jumped as Hyunjin's forearm brushed Chris'. Changbin and Felix stopped for a moment to take it what happened before continuing.

"Whoa! Sorry, Hyunjin." Said Chris, subconsciously raising his hand to gesture.

"It's fine, hyung." Hyunjin replied. "I wasn't looking where I was going." Hyunjin wore a sleeveless black shirt with a very low tuxedo collar that exposed the middle of his chest. It didn't take much movement for his nipples and toned but flat belly to be exposed. He wore black tights, black knee pads each with a tiny, four pointed white star, a belt with three pouches on his right hip, a jedok geom and dan geom with black handles on the other, and lightweight, all black slip-on shoes.

Chris massaged Hyunjin's shoulder. "Ah, it's fine. Come on." Hyunjin nodded, then followed Chris downstairs. He heard Seungmin leave his room as they went. Once at the bottom of the stairs, Chris looked back to watch Seungmin descend.

His costume consisted of a plum purple jumpsuit with long sleeves and gold cuffs, and a cape that ended halfway down his back. The cape was held by a clasp shaped like a hickory brown clover outlined in gold, and hickory brown slip-on shoes. Seeing that Hyunjin was on his way, Chris proceeded to lead the group outside. They walked left, to the garage attached to the house. "Why are we going to the garage from outside instead of from the dojo?" Seungmin asked.

Chris laughed. "Oh yeah." Hyunjin and Felix laughed. "Oh well! We're outside now." They arrived at the garage door and Chris pressed the button on his keychain to open it. When it was up just enough, they ducked under it and dashed to the black van with their logo on both sides.

"It's so dark in here." Said Felix. Chris unlocked the car, and it honked as its headlights flashed.

As everyone climbed inside the vehicle, Seungmin said, "Aren't you basically—?"

"—Oh yeah." The car rumbled with laughter as the doors were closed and the boys buckled up.

"Man, you really aren't a morning person, are you, Felix?" Said Hyunjin, as Chris started the engine.

"No," Felix shook his head, still smiling. "I'm really not."

Chris pulled out of the garage as Changbin ruffled Felix's hair. Felix gave a cry of protest and reached for his hand. Even though Felix had it, Changbin didn't let up. "Ah, but you're still cute."

"Stooop, oh my God." Felix playfully thrashed in his seat, kicking Seungmin's seat.

"Ah! You stop!" Seungmin shouted, reaching back to swipe at Felix's legs. As the Kids laughed, Felix pulled back his legs and swiped back.

—

Chris pulled into the curb in front of the police station. The lawn was littered with news reporters and camera men. "Oh yeah, the press is here."

"Of course they would be," Said Hyunjin, rather cheerfully. "This is the first time the city has called us for something like this."

Seungmin hummed. "The last time we came here under these kind of circumstances, we were finding out if we'd be allowed to be heroes, or not."

"We'd better get out there, guys." Chris said, turning off the ignition. "Let's go." The group left the van, Chris locking it once he saw everyone was out. Chris led the group up the gradual incline of the staircase, Changbin first behind him with the younger three close behind.

"Mr. Bang!" "Double Knock, sir!" "Excuse me, Mr. Bang!" The shouting voices of the reporters flooded the boys' ears as they marched forward. "Do you have any information about the suspect or his victim?" "Mr. Bang, do you have any insight on the case or the suspect's motive?" "Sir, do you believe that Stray Kids should be allowed to freely defend the city, as they currently do?"

The Kids weren't obligated to answer. In fact, they were legally prohibited from making any statement to the public without consent from the city. That didn't mean Chris didn't want to answer. He wanted to respond so they would stop asking the same questions time and again, but he couldn't, and that was just something he had to accept. It wasn't just to save face for the city or the police, it was to save face for the boys and to make sure no false information would be released. The media had been told this, four months ago, yet acted that their questions could be answered, or needed to be answered. It was one of the frustrating things about the job, and, today, it took a bit of effort for the boys to mute their voices.

The quintet were a little more than halfway to the doors of the building when Chris felt off. He stopped and looked among the crowd for something to click. "Chan hyung?" Said Hyunjin.

"Who... who called..." Chris muttered, Hyunjin and Changbin only hearing him because of how close they were to him.

"Who called what?" Changbin asked.

"That voice, where is...?" Chris' eyes flared open ever so slightly as he found a familiar face. "Minho." The boys easily found the handsome face of the man in the mint blue and white suit and held their breaths. His normally brown eyes were blood red and continually released a scentless black smoke.

"What are you doing here?" Asked Chris. The voices and movements of the reporters fell to a hush as he spoke.

"Who is he talking to?" Inquired a woman.

"Ha, he is a madman!" Exclaimed a male. "Go check into a mental ward, ya fucking lawless degen—"

"Hush!" Barked Hyunjin. "Let our leader do his job, please!"

"I don't know how you're making it so only we can see you," Chris said. A couple people murmured in wonder and doubt. "But I sure as hell know you're treading thin waters, Minho."

Minho drew out his breath as he inhaled through his teeth. To the surprise of the heroes, they were stained black. The smell of burned flesh slapped everyone within five feet instantly. The press reacted with nauseous expressions and sounds, stepping back or turning away to cough and hold in vomit. The Kids also turned to recover, but Chris swallowed the unfurling knot in his stomach and kept eye contact with Minho, refusing to show any sign of weakness to the serial killer.

"He's actually here?" A reporter said, her volume slightly lower than normal.

"Holy shit, what kind of power is this?!" Cried a male.

"Do you want me to answer what I'm doing here, or the secret to my new trick?"

"Why are you here, Minho?" Demanded Chris.

Minho gave a small smile and folded his hands in front of his abdomen. "Faith is alive. Jisung and I would love to—" Suddenly, the doors to the hall opened. Minho paused and let his hands fall to his side. Everyone watched the mayor and police chief come outside with a handful of officers.

Brandon had a friendly face and build and had a mauve tie with his light grey suit. Jinyoung looked familiar to a lot of people, but no one could quite put their finger on whom. He donned an all grey suit and his tie was matte silver. They had barely taken two steps when Jinyoung saw what what happening and put his arm in front of Brandon. The mayor stumbled back a bit, then gave a small gasp upon seeing what was before him. One of the officers whispered in Jinyoung's ear and received order 10-23.

"Hello, Mr. Gorge, Mr. Park." Greeted Minho, with a small wave. "Do I have permission to finish my explanation, or must I leave before I spill the wine necessary for the vines to grow?" Chris quirked an eyebrow and looked among his members, who also looked a bit puzzled.

Brandon and Jinyoung looked at each other. Brandon nodded. A moment later, so did Jinyoung. The police chief answered, "Go on, Minho. You have our attention."

"Thank you. So!" Minho clapped his hands, then folded his hands again. "Jisung and I would love to meet you boys at the asylum, at 3:53 PM: no sooner, no later. If you open those doors early or one minute past the designated time, the ritual will not only fail and make the core of the Earth expand to the point of destroying the planet!" Minho laughed for two seconds, then his laughter cut short. "I'm kidding."

Chris said, "I was going to say, Minho—"

"—Ah ah ah!" Minho wiggled his finger warningly. "There will still be a dire consequence for an early or late entry!"

"And what is that?"

"We'll be so upset that we can't free our girlfriend that we'll light the entire city on fire!" Minho flung his arms out side with a broad smile.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, seriously." Minho nodded. "Anyway," He sang, and ran a hand through his hair. "That's all you need to know."

"We expect the angels to show up and try to stop us. You'll probably see one within minutes of coming inside, and they'll probably help you, or at least try. We'll see. It'll be fun." He wiggled the fingers of one hand. "Have fun at the meeting, boys! Bye now!"

Minho threw his head back. Chris instinctively reached out, even though he didn't know what to expect. Minho fell backwards as a fiery magic circle appeared in the stone stairs with a deafening bang like a rife had been fired. The crowd screamed, cowered and flinched. Some of the police did, too.

The Kids looked surprised but were able to find strength by looking at each other. Seungmin noticed the circle didn't erase the steps but wrapped around them and decided to remember that. A plethora of frostbitten arms with clawed fingers grabbed Minho and quickly pulled him through like he was a doll made of cloth. The circle disappeared with a bang, leaving no trace behind. More shrieks were given at the sound. As the people recovered, Chris turned his attention to the mayor and chief. His confident gaze was mirrored by Jinyoung.

"Come on, Kids." Said Jinyoung, directing their eyes to him. Nodding and shivering, the five quietly left the press alone.

—

Three watchtowers and small officer stations at their feet were lined up thirty feet apart in the middle of the Ocean, the one hundred by eighty foot lot that connected the four wings. They had female names in an attempt to make the asylum less dreary to inmates and visitors. The Ocean was boxed in by twenty feet tall, unpainted stone walls with steel walkways leading from one wing to the other. Steel stairs were in each corner. Six flower boxes of white and purple hyacinths were lined up outside the facilities and security stations. The boxes were blanketed in snow, but parts of the flowers peeked out from the cold powder.

Alicia was located east, serving as the residential and intensive care centre. She had three floors, the third being the underground intensive care level. Her ash white exterior was lined with vibrant red paint along the top and bottom, her roof grey. The clock tower in the left part of her body showed it was 3:48 in Roman numerals, a guarded platform below thirty feet above the ground. There was also a patrol on the level roof beside the clock.

Eva, the medical ward, was west. She looked identical to Alicia but had no clock tower and only had two floors. Sara, the entrance and parking lot, was north. The stone wall had a small weakness in the electric gate, but in case of an emergency, with the press of a button, three rows of spiked metal poles would thrust up from the ground. This security measure had yet to have been used, but it had been tested with a dummy driver and proven to be a viable asset.

Maria, the graveyard and garden, was south. There was no stone wall or electric fence where Maria met the Atlantic. The graveyard was neatly laid out to the west, the wooden benches and wide flowerbeds of more hyacinths to the east. There were ten headstones: four names belonged to patients from the first floor, and three belonged to patients from the second floor. Two belonged to stillborn children, though one hadn't been given a name but still had the name of her mother inscribed, and the tenth was that of the inmate who had murdered the three.

The police and Stray Kids had gathered at the asylum at two o'clock. Hyunjin was throwing his dan geom at a sandbag near Alicia and pulling it back with the white glow of his powers. One could tell that his speed was a little faster than the pair of watching officers' eyes could keep up with. "Uh, that's 471...?" Said an officer whose surname was Walker, hesitantly.

"475," Hyunjin politely corrected, pausing his exercise with the weapon in his hand to look at him. "But you were close."

"It's getting awfully close to 3:53." Said the other officer, Bridges, gazing up at the clock as Hyunjin resumed his practice.

Walker nodded. "That it is. I wonder if Chief Park is going to call one last meeting to go over everything, again."

Hyunjin replied, "Probably not. We're playing with time and demons, here."

"That's true enough." Walker nodded. Hyunjin caught his dan geom and sheathed it in one motion.

"I'm going to wait for the guys by the door." Said Hyunjin, resting his hands on his hips and looking from one man to the other, his eyes also drifting to the dozen officers standing by the doors. "Thanks for staying to watch, guys. Even if it got boring, after one hundred."

They both laughed. Bridges said, "Don't mention it, Ghost. We'll walk with you." Some ten feet behind them, Chris was delivering blows to the bags three officers were holding, alternating targets and how he attacked.

He brought up one leg in a jump kick and pushed himself off the sac with the other, the officer who held the bag staggering as Chris was launched across the ways and landing ten quick stomps to the second bag, switching from foot to foot. The officer who held this bag was the best built of his peers, but he still needed to plant himself firmly into the ground to avoid being blown back at least five feet from Chris' power. Chris landed with a thump that had less impact on the beaten up earth because he wasn't wearing his own boots. His momentum boosted him rightwards, to the third bag. He pulled back his arms and whacked it upwards with his left arm, immediately followed by his right to make a 'double knot'.

With a choked laugh, the man who held this bag stepped around a bit. "Oof!"

"You alright, Shorts?" Chris asked, relaxing his posture and rolling his right shoulder.

He nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. What a rush, ha ha ha!"

"Glad you're still having fun." Chris smiled and patted his left shoulder. "You sure you don't want to switch out?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. I've only been here fifteen minutes, I can keep going."

"Daren," Said Johnson, the officer with the second bag. "You really should take a break." He looked behind him. "It's getting real close to that time, anyway."

Chris turned to look at the clock with the officers and raised his eyebrows. "Oh, damn! Guess it's time to gather everyone."

Shorts gave a nod to Alicia. "Ghost is already ahead of you." Chris and the other two men looked in her direction. Hyunjin gave Chris a wave, and Chris waved back.

"That he is!"

The third officer, Island, said, "Chief Park will probably call everyone over, in a mo—"

"This if Chief Park to all officers in the DCA: please alert the Stray Kids to gather at the door and proceed to said destination. Two minutes and thirty seconds until entry. Over."

"Yep." Said Johnson.

"Walk with us, Double Knock?" Said Island.

Chris gave a nod. "Of course." The four started their short walk and blended into Hyunjin and the two officers. "All warmed up, Hyunjin?" He nodded. "Good, good." Chris turned to watch out for whoever came next.

Seungmin and Changbin jogged over, Chief Jinyoung close behind with eight officers. Chris looked around the yard for Felix and scarcely saw him leap from the steel platform from the nearest watchtower and land hands first, the boy bounding forth like a cat until he was somewhat close to the others and then standing, shaking out his arms a little. "You alright, Felix?" Inquired Chris.

"Yeah, I'm fine. That wasn't too high of a jump." Felix responded. Chris nodded.

"All right," The voice of the Chief drew everyone's attention. "I don't have time to go over every part of this operation in detail, but I don't need to. Remember to check your surroundings and be prepared to make split second decisions. So long as you follow protocol and keep your heads on your shoulders, all should go well, and, ideally, there should be no casualties."

"It is likely there will be casualties, but it is our mission to minimize those numbers and save not just the patients and staff of the asylum, who are on lockdown, but to save the city from the evil threatening to burst from the schemes of Minho and Jisung. I'll be waiting out here, but know that I, along with every citizen of our city, will be with you in spirit." Jinyoung looked to an officer beside him. "Marley, how much time until 'go'?"

"Twenty-three, twenty-one, twenty..." Counted the man, who held a cellphone. With amazing efficiency, the Stray Kids moved to the front of the mass, the police force behind them in four full columns and a fifth column that had vacant one spot. They marched forward, Marley walking behind them to continue his task. "Thirteen, twelve, eleven..."

Chris felt a pair of eyes staring at him and found the wavering eyes of Seungmin. "Ten, nine..." Chris discreetly moved his hand over Seungmin's and gently tapped his skin. "Eight, seven..." Seungmin swallowed and fumbled his fingers until he held Chris' hand.

"We'll be OK, Seungmin-ie, I promise." Chris muttered. His voice swayed the interest of the other Kids. Seungmin sniffled and nodded. Hyunjin stood on the other side of Seungmin, and he rubbed Seungmin's arm.

"Three, two, one, zero." Marley glanced up from the phone and nodded once to Chris. "Negative one—"

"Go, go!" Shouted Chief Jinyoung. Not wasting time, the group strode forward and entered the asylum. The decently decorated lobby had sky blue walls, a tacky grey carpet and cheap cushioned chairs. The secretary, like all staff outside of medical and security, had already evacuated. The far end of the room were glass sliding doors, emergency steel doors retracted into the wall.

As the force went through the doors and began to pass the huge holding cell on their left, a voice came from the radios of the officers. "Dispatch to Adam, Boy, Charles and David: the city has not caught fire. Repeat: the city has not caught fire. Over."

"That's the immediate danger out of the way, good." Said Chris with a heavy sigh, ensuring his voice could be heard by at least those directly behind him. The holding cell had steel white bars and benches against the far wall and mats on the concrete floor, which continued outside of the cell. The walkway to the white door at the end of the room had several windows that looked into the cafeteria on the right wall.

"What's the time?" Asked Changbin, who was to the right of Chris. Felix was at Changbin's right.

Alley, a female from the second row, answered, "3:53:42, forty-three..."

"It's still too early to be sure that the city is safe." Said Russell, a man from the fourth row.

"I agree." Replied Chris, the other boys and some of the men nodding. It took group about twenty-five seconds to arrive at the door. They stopped, and Seungmin stepped up to the door. He pressed his hands and his left ear to its surface.

"Clear." Seungmin stated. He stepped back into line and Chris took his place to open the door. He had almost put his hand on the doorknob when a spider leapt through the window, its bristles roughly touching Chris' right cheek. The spider flew over Chris' shoulder and landed on the ground.As several officers gasped and began to raise their handguns, only to realize it was just a spider, Chris pivoted and saw the tarantula wasn't moving.

"It's dead?" Chris said, questioningly.

Seungmin nodded. "Tarantulas can't survive long falls. They get hurt even if dropped from a foot high. Though some species are more aggressive, it is mostly because they are Old World species or because of mood. They are mostly harmless. Their bites can hurt, but..." He shook his head and crossed his arms. "They require humid habitats. How did this spider get here?"

"The Devil, probably." Answered Addison, an officer from the fifth row, and a handful of them laughed.

"That's probably not far from the truth, actually." Seungmin said, bobbing his head. He made eye contact with Chris. "Allow me to examine its corpse, before we move on."

"Of course, go ahead." Chris said, nodding. Seungmin gave a nod in response before kneeling before the creature. He gingerly poked it with a finger and sharply held his breath. His breath shuddered, and he swallowed loudly. "Seungmin?" The boy's torso jolted, his eyes whipping up to Chris' and then relaxing. "Talk to us, please."

"S-Sure. This is a South American Pink Toe." Seungmin carefully picked up the spider and turned it over in his hands as he got to his feet. He looked at his peers while speaking. "Its pink colour darkens into maturity, and they live from seven to nine years."

"They are arboreal, meaning they live in trees. This gave them the name Antilles tree spider. They grow up to six inches, and this adult female is five inches. I noticed a strong magical presence from it, when it came through the window. It's gone now, but it stayed long enough for me to intercept how the sender felt, when it was created." Seungmin's eyes lowered. "It was Faith..."

"Wait, that means Jisung and Minho have already changed her." Felix said. "They've already won. So was the whole 3:53 PM thing just to lure us in?"

"Probably, yeah."

"It might not mean they've won, Felix." Said Changbin. "Just that they've done enough to make her able to do this." He pointed at the spider.

"What did you feel when you touched the spider, Seungmin-ie?" Asked Chris.

"Intense throbbing pain where my jaw starts." Seungmin rubbed beneath his ears. "My tongue felt alienated and cold, like it had nothing around it. It felt like I had been crying for hours. I felt so helpless, so small and weak, unable to do anything but obey."

"I'd like to find one of these alive, but I doubt I'll be that lucky. I feel as if something is hiding in our little friend." Seungmin turned his head to Felix. "Felix, would you mind—?" Felix widened his eyes and shook his head. Seungmin, Felix and Hyunjin laughed. Chris and Changbin joined, a few of the officers chuckling along.

"I'll do it, Seungmin." Hyunjin said, stepping closer and withdrawing his dan geom. He cautiously sliced open the spider, from its abdomen to its chelicerae. Its blood colour was normal, but scentless black smoke accompanied the liquid. When Hyunjin and Seungmin saw the smoke, their eyes flew open. Hyunjin took a hasteful step back, and Seungmin quickly put the spider down, keeping his face as far away from the spider as he could.

"I don't smell anything wrong with the smoke." Felix commented, shaking his head. "I do see something that looks an awful lot like a crystal in the front part of its body, though."

"Do you want to get it?" Asked Seungmin. Felix froze up for a second, then shook his head. "I thought so." Seungmin crouched before the tarantula and carefully picked into its body with his fingers to extract the white object. He held it in two of his fingers and rolled it between them. "It sure feels like a real crystal."

"Lemme see." Felix said, coming over to Seungmin, who moved the item into his palms. Felix touched it with one finger and rolled it around Seungmin's palm a little. "Yep, that's a real crystal. I'd ask if I could keep it, but I don't wanna be cursed, or something."

"I do feel a faint magical aura from it," Seungmin said. "But it doesn't feel malicious. If anything, it feels malevolent. Might even be lucky. You can keep it on you for now if you want, Felix."

"Cool." Felix took the crystal and stored it in his pouch. He quietly added, "Yay!" Hearing him, Seungmin chuckled.

"OK, let's move on." Said Chris, as Seungmin stooped down and got a small plastic bag from one of his pouches. He shimmied the tarantula into it as everyone but Hyunjin moved on, and sealed the bag before standing, placing the spider in a different pocket before jogging to catch up with Hyunjin. Chris waited for them at the door, the officers acting upon their order to divide and investigate both ways the hall went. When they passed through, Chris began to pull the door closed, but was shocked to feel the door slam itself.

"Well, that can't be good." Said Chris. Hyunjin and Seungmin laughed. "Come on, this way." He nodded to his right, and they hurried to return to the front of their group.

Chapter 1 — Chapter 2

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bmoviedragonsreloaded · 4 years

Text

Review: American Samurai (1992)

“Why couldn’t we just have been brothers?”

SOURCE

This review is based on the Region 1 DVD release of the film.

SPOILERS AHEAD

The Cannon Group was on its last legs in the early 90s and American Samurai was one of the last movies distributed during its lifetime. The first of several collaborations between director Sam Firstenberg and star David Bradley, this is a picture with a lot going for it that still manages to confound me. When I first saw it, I was shocked by many of the creative and technical decisions, but having recently seen it again, I think I can hang a lot of them on the old sin of studio overreach. Still, it shines in some important and gratifying ways and is worth a watch if this is your kind of thing.

The plot: An American reporter trained in the ways of the samurai (Bradley) and his photographer (Valarie Trapp) investigate a murder in Turkey, where he uncovers a deadly tournament championed by his vicious half-brother (Mark Dacascos).

Writer John Corcoran (RIP) was a well-known figure in the world of martial arts publication, but his sole movie script is basically Bloodsport with weapons. It starts off incredibly pulpy with the baby protagonist surviving a plane crash and being raised by a modern samurai (John Fujioka), but it almost immediately begins hitting recognizable beats of the Jean-Claude Van Damme vehicle, down to a blatant Donald Gibb knockoff character (Rex Ryon). Nevertheless, I think the film originally intended to distinguish itself by being a more dramatic and heartfelt story, with the crux being the conflict between the brothers. We get hints of an emotional undercurrent, with Bradley’s character conflicted about fighting the sibling who feels jealous of his parental favor. However, in the end, we only get a superficial and choppy representation of their feud, including a rushed prologue and a head-spinning psychedelic scene where the lead confronts his brother’s demonic form in a dream. (Shades of Dragon: The Bruce Lee Story?)

That’s a recurring trend: parts of the story and action giving the impression of having once been very different. It’s most apparent in two instances: (1) the breakneck romance between David Bradley and Valarie Trapp, with an abrupt sex scene entirely performed by body doubles, and (2) the final duel between the brothers, which I’m certain was initially a short and minimalistic fight before being expanded with footage obviously transplanted from previous scenes. I get the impression that the script was heavily edited to focus on exploitation, and then the movie saw substantial content changes during post-production. It complicates what probably a pretty simple film, to the point that I don’t feel like I can accurately critique the screenplay and the acting. I don’t assume it was ever a dramatic masterpiece, but I wonder whether even Mark Dacascos’ hamfisted acting didn’t seem more appropriate before his character’s motivations were screwed with after the fact.

Speaking of Dacascos, he’s retrospectively one of the main drawing points of the movie. This was his first substantial film role and he’s still in proto form. His presence and intensity are already apparent, his acting would improve, but the filmmakers don’t quite know how to get the most out of his fight scenes. Dacascos looks great with a katana, but if you’re hoping to find the equivalent of his fight scenes from Drive or even the following year’s Only the Strong, you’ll be disappointed at his comparatively restrained adrenaline pieces.

That said, the action is pretty good. I definitely appreciate it more than I did during my first viewing. Weapons are the name of the game, putting the film in the same subcategory as Ring of Steel and the Swordsman series. There’s some purely hand-to-hand stuff in the first half, with David Bradley demonstrating some cool throws, but for the most part, the action’s a variety of colorful opponents fighting each other with a plethora of bladed weapons. The quality of the fights isn’t static, with more than one marred by an overabundance of cutaway shots, but a lot of thought has been put into the choreography. The flashiest match is a rare onscreen appearance of Hong Kong choreographers Dion Lam and Anthony Szeto, but my personal favorite is a sword-versus-ax encounter between David Bradley and a viking-themed opponent (Mark Warren). I like how Bradley first uses only the hilt of his katana to fight, then only the dull side of the blade before he actually starts slicing. It’s not spectacular stuff, but definitely enjoyable.

“Definitely enjoyable” is a good summation of the movie, but only if you’re already into this genre, are a fan of some of the performers, and/or are prepared to find pleasure in the little details. I like Sam Firstenberg’s signature gore (even though the content is clumsily censored in the DVD release) – not just because of how it helps spice up the duels, but because I appreciate how he was one of the few karate filmmakers who utilized special effects in his action scenes. I get a kick out of Valarie Trapp, who’s nothing special as an actor but whose real-life story of being a struggling writer taking small movie roles to get by is genuinely inspiring. And, of course, I love the fact that two action heroes in different stages of their careers were able to do a film together, because even if this isn’t the best, it’s not so for lack of effort. If this sounds like your kind of picture, it’s worth spending a bit of money on…though you might be better off getting the VHS version in this case, which I don’t recall being quite as heavily censored.

SOURCE

American Samurai (1992) Directed by Sam Firstenberg (Revenge of the Ninja) Written by John Corcoran (editor of Inside Kung Fu magazine) Starring David Bradley (American Ninja 3 & 4), Valarie Trapp (Mr. Stitch), Mark Dacascos, Rex Ryan (The Man in the Iron Mask) Cool costars: The late, great John Fujioka plays another benevolent martial arts master, much like his role in American Ninja. The list of tournament fighters and other onscreen combatants include Hong Kong action masters Dion Lam (Black Mask) and Anthony Szeto (Wushu), karate staple Ron Vreeken (Under the Gun), and award-winning stunt pros Koby Azarly (Sector 4: Extraction) and Rocky McDonald (Mission Impossible II). Second unit director and action coordinator Guy Norris has since moved up the studio ladder, nowadays coordinating for major motion pictures like Mad Max: Fury Road and Suicide Squad. Video game fans may recognize composer Craig Stuart Garfinkle from his later work on the World of Warcraft and Fallout series. Content warning: Extreme violence, violence against women, kidnapping, police intimidation Title refers to David Bradley’s lead character, who plays an American trained in the art of the samurai. In a roundabout way, it could also refer to Mark Dacascos and John Fujioka, who are real-life Americans playing characters with samurai training. (If you want to be a pedantic nitpicker, the title’s a total misnomer since no character’s an actual member of the old Japanese military caste.) Cover accuracy: David Bradley and Mark Dacascos posing with swords, the latter seemingly wearing his outfit from the tournament, are certainly very true to the movie. That said, the Japanese syllabery and paper walls in the background don’t convey that hardly any of the story takes place in Japan. Number of full-length fight scenes: 10 Copyright Cannon Pictures / Global Pictures

#film review #film criticism #film critique #action #martial arts #karate #samurai #kendo #kenjutsu #american samurai #david bradley #mark dacascos #valarie trap #rex ryan #sam firstenberg

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thelibraryofhell · 4 years

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Pretentious and Cringy: RoseBlood

For our very first condemnation to this library, we are given RoseBlood by A.G. Howard. Follow the read more for a full count of its sins and stupidity. Warning: it gets long.

This doesn’t count as a sin but great Satan the damn description is way too long! This was likely not the author’s choice though which is why it gets a pass.

This YA novel from New York Times bestselling author A. G. Howard marks the beginning of a new era for fans of the Splintered series. Rune Germain moves to a boarding school outside of Paris, only to discover that at this opera-house-turned-music-conservatory, phantoms really do exist. RoseBlood is a Phantom of the Opera–inspired retelling in which Rune’s biggest talent—her voice—is also her biggest curse. Fans of Daughter of Smoke and Bone and the Splintered series will find themselves captivated by this pulse-pounding spin on a classic tale. Rune, whose voice has been compared to that of an angel, has a mysterious affliction linked to her talent that leaves her sick and drained at the end of every performance. Convinced creative direction will cure her, her mother ships her off to a French boarding school for the arts, rumored to have a haunted past. Shortly after arriving at RoseBlood conservatory, Rune starts to believe something otherworldly is indeed afoot. The mystery boy she’s seen frequenting the graveyard beside the opera house doesn’t have any classes at the school, and vanishes almost as quickly as he appears. When Rune begins to develop a secret friendship with the elusive Thorn, who dresses in clothing straight out of the 19th century, she realizes that in his presence she feels cured. Thorn may be falling for Rune, but the phantom haunting RoseBlood wants her for a very specific and dangerous purpose. As their love continues to grow, Thorn is faced with an impossible choice: lead Rune to her destruction, or save her and face the wrath of the phantom, the only father he’s ever known.

That first paragraph would have sufficed for description and given the reader some mystery. The second could have stayed but it’s on thin ice. And we don’t have ice in hell.

To summarize the story: Rune Germain is a 16-17 year old girl from Pleasant, Texas who is, in her own words “possessed by music”. Thanks to a rich aunt and some nepotism, she gets the chance to go to RoseBlood, a conservatory in Paris that is a refurbished opera house that, according to Rune’s online research, is the place where Gaston Leroux’s Phantom Of The Opera story really took place. Upon arrival, Rune is immediately overtaken by music and makes an enemy in Katrina Nilsson by interrupting Kat’s audition for Renata in the school’s opera. She also makes friends with a few other students who really have no bearing on either the plot or Rune’s adventures. She eventually finds her Love Interest Thorn - real name Etalon, stalking her as she goes about her day to day life, and immediately falls in love with him because they are Twin Flame and Destined by Destiny. It is soon enough revealed that Rune, Thornalon, and Erik are all psychic vampires that must feed off humans to survive. It is also soon revealed that Rune and Thornalon are Christina Nilsson’s soul reincarnated and split and that Rune “has Christine’s voice”. It also turns out that Christina and Erik got married and tried to have a child who was born premature and died. Erik was driven mad(der) by the child’s death and somehow, in the 1900′s, managed to build a contraption that kept the baby “alive” until he could track down Christine’s soul and reunite the pieces and transfer it to the baby... Needless to say, he failed, Rune and Thornalon live happily ever after, and Rune suffers no consequences from any of her terrible actions through the whole novel.

Sin count time!

Sin 1: The school name! RoseBlood. What does it have to do with anything? There are bleeding roses later in the story but why would a school name itself RoseBlood? This choice is never explained. It has no French basis, no connection to the opera-house turned school, and no connection to Gaston Leroux’s original Phantom Of The Opera.

Sin 2: Overwrought descriptions right out of the gate.

At home, I have a poster on my wall of a rose that’s bleeding. Its petals are white, and red liquid oozes from its heart, thick and glistening warm.

Mom looks out her window where the wet trees have thickened to multicolored knots, like an afghan gilded with glitter.

I trace the window now curtained by mud, imagining the glass cracking and bursting; imagining myself sprouting wings to fly away through the opening—back to America and my two friends who were tolerant of my strange quirks.

These are all from chapter one. It only gets worse as you go.

Sin 3: Racism. Main character Rune Germain regularly describes herself as a “gypsy”. According to her, on her father’s side, she’s a g*psy. Moving through this review, I will be censoring the word. I’m a demon of hell, not a piece of shit. Rune never says Roma or Romani in the entire book. There’s no references to Romani culture, nothing about the problems Romani people face in the modern day, nothing. Rune is also as white as a piece of paper. You can see it on the cover

And in how she describes herself.

People say we could pass for sisters. We share her ivory complexion, the tiny freckles spattered across the bridge of her nose, the wide green eyes inside a framework of thick lashes, and her hair—black as a raven’s wings.

If you look up pictures of Romani people, you see that they’re far from ivory skinned.

It’s not only Rune. Her Aunt Charlotte does it too. The “Phantom” does it. And Roma culture is treated very poorly throughout the novel. Rune several times refers to her “g*psy blood” as “cursed” or “terrible”. One example:

Nausea sweeps through me at the thought. After our encounter, I realized why I was enchanted by the spider’s feeding rituals, that there was something in my g*psy blood—something tainted and wrong.

In this modern day and age, can’t humans stop demonizing and stereotyping an entire culture? Or using “half-g*psy” lineage to make characters “exotic” or “mystic”? No? Fine, I’ll see you down here eventually.

Sin 4: The Love Interest’s backstory..... TRIGGER WARNING FOR FURTHER DISCUSSION OF RAPE, CHILD TRAFFICKING, AND REFERENCED CHILD SEXUAL ASSAULT.

Rune’s Love Interest is named Etalon. His mother was sexually assaulted by a psychic vampire who is apparently from Canada - I have no idea why Howard felt the need to include that - and it ruined her life to the point where she was forced to turn to prostitution to feed herself and Etalon. A man kept trying to “buy” Etalon from her because he was beautiful. She kept refusing, and eventually, she was murdered. Etalon was quickly snatched up into child trafficking where, at one point, he was forced to drink lye water to damage his vocal cords because he wouldn’t stop singing. He eventually escaped when Erik found him and took him in, renaming him Thorn.

Love Interests with tragic backstories are a staple of the YA genre. It makes them mysterious and interesting. It often drives the main character’s interest in the aloof and unusual bad boy. Quite often, these backstories involve dead or missing parents, being turned into a vampire or werewolf, or some combination of all of these things. It’s very rare that it gets so real. Child trafficking is a very real and prevalent issue in the world and it needs attention brought to it. But not like this. Using it as a character’s backstory is something that takes a level of skill Howard simply does not have. It needs to be written with respect to victims who might read it and not just be used to give characters a compelling but otherwise unused backstory. Thornalon never displays any indicators that the time spent in this situation traumatized him. There’s no signs of PTSD or other mental health issues that might arise from what he went through. There’s also no signs that Howard donated any money from book sales to charities like Child Fund, Save The Children, or ECPAT-USA. This is a very serious topic that NEEDS more attention brought to it and Howard glossed over it like it was nothing.

Sin 5: Underutilized setting. Rune comes from Pleasant, Texas and moves to Paris, France. But there’s no sense of wonder from her. She never talks about how beautiful the city is or learning French. Supposedly, the school only admits American students.

“How many foreign boarding schools offer admittance only to American kids? This is a rare opportunity . . . a taste of French culture in a setting that feels like home.”

Oooor the author couldn’t be bothered to deal with French translations or expanding the student body to include a diversity? There’s no French culture anywhere in this book. Any time Rune goes into Paris, it’s skipped over. There’s nothing about it that says Paris. It could have been set in New Jersey and it wouldn’t have made much of a difference.

Sin 6: Each chapter begins with a quote from a different author and work. Including, weirdly enough, Karl Marx... Beginning a chapter with a quote is fine, but it should be consistent. Picking a single work or author to use helps to reader see a consistency in the theme of the book. Since this is a Phantom of The Opera based story, it would make sense to use quotes from the book. Instead, the author uses a different work for each chapter, and it’s honestly just annoying.

Sin 7: All promise, no pay off. This book has a promise of action and mystery. It’s got a fabulous premise and a setting that could be beautifully used if in the hands of the right author. But it misses the mark on good characters, action, and keeping a consistent pace.

Punishments: For being tone-deaf and generally bad at writing, author A.G. Howard is condemned to have the dead tree in her backyard become home to her state’s buzzard population. For being a terrible protagonist, Rune Germain is condemned to find a mistake in the middle of her knitting projects just as she is about to finish them. For the terrible Phantom Iteration known as Erik, we condemn his instruments to always be just slightly out tune. And Thorn/Etalon... we order you to get a lot of therapy and a service dog.

So let it be recorded. Today’s story time is concluded.

#roseblood #ag howard #book snark #the library of hell #bad books #bad writing #roseblood ag howard #the phantom of the opera #phantom of the opera #tw child trafficking #tw rape #racist writing #g*psy slur use

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