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morepeachyogurt · 4 years ago

Text

i’m locking up everyone (who ever laid a finger on me)

Elle Greenaway Gen fic, brief romance with ofc

Word Count- 8,100

Summary- Elle’s been angry since she was young, a look into that anger until she finally gives in.

Tw- blood, knives, murder, brief mentions of rape and pedophilia (nothing graphic), minor substance mentioned, and language I guess

read here on ao3

You think it all started when Randall Garner decided you weren’t worth living. When he took a bullet from his shiny gun, broke into your home, your safe place, and shot you in the chest. As your blood spilled onto your floors you couldn’t help but blame the man who sent you home. Hotch may not have pulled the trigger but he loaded the gun which almost took your life. You were helpless, had to sit there, and watch it pour onto your floor like a pond being drained to make room for yet another building. Its life is sucked out of it like yours was. You closed your eyes because you did not want to see the blood. You’re no stranger to blood, you’re a woman after all, plus you work a job surrounded by murder and misery. There's nothing quite like watching corpse after corpse of other women laying on the floor, their eyes panicked and their blood staining the floor. It was never supposed to be you but now it was. This is how it ends, you suppose. You didn’t even save a life going down like you always thought you would. You were targeted. A victim. You were not an accident caught in the crosshairs. No, this was intentional and now you’re bleeding out your soul and you almost don’t want to be brought back to life.

When you were seven your mother baked pie after pie. Your father was dead, died heroically everyone said. Like that made it better. Who cares that you’ll never see him again, he’ll never teach you to ride a bike now like you guilt-tripped him for not doing before. Now he's dead and you’re surrounded by baked goods to fuel the appetite you don’t have. You feel hollow and you wish you didn’t. Sadness like your mother would be better, anger like his fellow officers would be better. You ask her why she’s baking pies, she doesn’t even like them. Fueron la cosa favorita de tu papá, cariño. Lo echo de menos cada dia. She acts like you don’t know your father’s favorite dessert, like you don’t miss him too. Ah, there’s the anger. Much better, you’ll revel in. That was not your question, you wanted to know why she felt like she could replace him with apple pie. You don’t tell her this, your father didn’t call you peanut to be vicious, he called you it because you were kind and soft. Were. Instead, you give your mother a soft smile like that fixes anything.

The days go on like they always do, a tv show where you cannot cancel your subscription. The anger subsides a bit, there will always be a gaping hole where your father’s kind eyes and gentle smile took root. For now, your heart is creating a shelter for it. It’s not perfect yet but you hope someday it will be.

You learn to laugh again, you speak Spanish with your mother. Sea bilingual mija, los estudios dicen que es buena para tu cerebro. ¿No quises saber la lengua materna de sus ancestros? You let her teach you the words of the women who can before you. It’s a beautiful thing to speak two languages. Perhaps connections make us who we are, now your ability to connect is twofold.

Your first day at the bau was almost as you imagined it. You did not imagine the genius barely old enough to drink, looking at crime scenes like he was made for it. Sculpted by the gods to examine the bodies of women like you and say why they were executed and by whom. Perhaps he was, Gideon did seem to think of himself as a god figure. You did not expect when returning to the office to see a woman who looked as though she stepped inside a rainbow and absorbed all its warmth. She looked like she would give you great hugs, she looked like home. That was a dangerous thought to be had in a place like this. They say it's a family. No family should be hoisted upon the foundation of murder. Blood should not be the glue that holds people together. Oh, and blood there was, almost every crime scene had its stench. The rust in the air reminds you of the junkyard by your house where you used to get high at with your friend that was never quite a friend. You would talk about the secrets of the universe and whether or not you felt as though you could exist in this world without paying a price. You argued that the world seems to take reservations, some were born with them already made, others bought them. The rest of you were forced to sell your soul to the devil to earn enough money to survive, to have a place in the world. She never quite saw your point. She will.

Even in your youth, you’ve never truly felt safe, perks of having a cop as a father means you’ve learned the cruelty of man far sooner than you should have, than you would have. He gave you rules to keep you safe.

Rule 1: you cannot walk alone or late at night. You yearn for the freedom of the boys on your block. The night and its darkness is so pure to you, the stars always in sight. Your mother tells you your father is in the sky and you look for him, to see if he twinkles at you. You do not want your mother to know this, it’s a secret shared by the two of you and you think that's sacred. Since you can’t walk alone at night you never get to look for him. Your father and freedom robbed from you by the men on the news and in your father’s case files.

Rule 2: never leave your drink unattended, you do not drink you are much too young but sometimes your eyes wander to your liquor cabinet and you wonder if there is a better state of being. If you can float above the longing for a different reality where you have a father and you are happy.

Rule 3: Do not dress provocatively, you are fourteen years old and you do not see why what you wear should impact your safety. You are not a gift wrapped up in a pretty package waiting for it to be ripped away to reveal something desirable. That does not stop the men from leering at you when you walk home from school, you still have your backpack on so you know it’s part of the appeal. It does not stop the boy in your science class from trying to grab your ass after class. You punch him in the nose and you get suspended. They do not listen to you. They do not care about the words of a girl, you are not here to have opinions on the world apparently you’re here to be a toy for those meant to have opinions. One day you’ll show them they’re wrong.

The list goes on and on, society loves to tell you that you will never be safe in this world. You wonder why no one is trying to make the world safe for you. Maybe that's your purpose. You were too late to be saved from the cruelty of this universe but perhaps there's another young girl who can be.

College, the supposed best years of your life. You decided to fulfill fourteen-year-old you’s wish to save the girls of the world so you major in criminology with a minor in psychology. What better way to stop them than to get inside their heads. You won’t let them into yours. They do not deserve the honor and the horror. You watch crime shows for fun, maybe for education. You see how these girls get taken and you know how to not make their mistakes. You also see what the killers did wrong. Part of you wonders if your future job, and the education for said job, are all an elaborate plan for you to win at the world. Life’s a game and you plan to be its victor. Learn their mistakes. Be better. You won’t fall for their tricks, you’re smarter than that.

Your studies do not stop you from enjoying your time here while you can. Once you see your first real corpse you know there's no going back. Any bit of being insouciant will be stolen from you just like the lives of the bodies you will hover over.

The party you are at is loud, not as loud as the inside your head, but enough to help you get out of it. You lock eyes with a woman who is quite possibly a work of art. She's in one of your classes, the buzz of alcohol in your head pleasantly blocking all memories of your studies. She smiles at you, shyly, and you wonder for the first time if perhaps angels are real. Her hair is blonde, just like an angel, it is her halo. Her eyes are blue like the water of the lakes you have stared at looking for an answer and perhaps you can find it in her eyes. She makes her way to you, she too has been loosened by alcohol for she stands far too close to be mistaken with platonic intentions towards you. Lily, your brain provides, is even more beautiful up close. She has freckles that dance along the bridge of her nose and you briefly wish to kiss them. Kiss her. The two of you dance, swaying to the beat of whatever trashy music is playing. You ask her if she’d like to go outside and take a walk with you. She says yes.

She is curious why but she follows you outside. You hesitantly grasp her hand as you pull her along a secret path you found on your first week here. She looks at the constellations above you and names the one you are staring at. As she looks at the sky you decide she is more beautiful than they are and you gaze at her while she gazes at the stars. She catches you eventually and you place a hand on her cheek. Her eyes shimmer in the moonlight and you ask if you can kiss her. She accepts and you accept that it might be your new favorite hobby. Perhaps you could spend hours kissing her. You do.

Lily and you have your perfect YA book experience. She takes you to coffee shops and you look at the stars together. You are not breaking your father’s rules for now you are not alone, it will end though, you know it. You are not the type of girl who gets her happy ending. You tell her a bad pun about the stars and she laughs and tells you the names of constellations she knows, god her laugh. You wish you could bottle it up and save it for a rainy day. Granted, you spend your rainy days with her cuddling up with bad movies and good hot chocolate. You gift her a pair of constellation earrings, you tell her, think of me when you look at the night sky, you want to say, please don’t forget me when you leave me, she gives you a blanket which is almost as soft as her. You are so in love with her your words can not describe it, so you use other people's words. You write poetry on the soft skin of her forearm. She doodles little flowers on your wrist. Perhaps they are like matching tattoos, unlike matching tattoos, these do not last forever. Just like the two of you. The problem comes not with her, she was never anything but perfect to you. The problem of course is you.

As you drown in your textbooks filled with bodies and bodies and bodies you can feel your soul filling with misery and a passion for justice. Slowly it consumes you and there is little time for the joy that is brought to you by her. She feels you slipping away like a boat that is not properly tied. It’s hard to be in a relationship where the other person is half focused on you while the other half of her mind wanders in dark alleyways with killers, wanting, no needing, to know why they commit their sins. Study dates turn into texts turn into nothing. There is no formal break up. You do not deserve the courtesy of a clean break and she is too sweet to break your heart. The two of you drift apart like you always knew you would, and soon you only see her in your one shared class. Her mind is not consumed with darkness, Lily does not wish to catch the monsters of the world, she wishes to paint them. Sometimes you look into her studio while she paints and you watch her hands and marvel. You never know if she’s aware you do this, but if she is, she spares you the shame of being so pathetic you need to watch someone you love paint from the shadows because you were too much of a coward to commit yourself to her and you allowed yourself to slip away into the darkness of your mind.

You think everyone got it wrong, it is so easy to be fueled by hate and spite. Look around you, the world is a cruel place. To not be affected by it is a power that you almost envy. To see the bad in the world and choose to be good is something you never had and will never have. It is not in your cards so you decided to make the best of it. You miss her kind eyes and gentle laugh every day of your life, but you know it is better to live in the darkness than let your black ink slowly turn her away from the light where she belongs.

The day you turn 18 you buy a handgun. You used to carry it around your ankle, liking the weight of your footsteps hitting the ground. One day the ground will break under your heel. Now, as an agent, your handgun sits on your left hip. You want people to fear you, you want them to know you are dangerous. And yet, you still don’t feel safe in this cruel world. So you buy a knife. It glimmers in the light, its handle is intricately carved out of wood. You have a holder for it on your thigh for the days where you wear dresses, on days where you aim to please. On days you don’t give a fuck about anyone else, when you wear what you wish, your knife sits either in your pocket, if you are blessed with pockets, your shoe, if it fits, or the holder you bought which holds your knife nice and close to you, flesh with your back. You like the power you hold with your weapons. You learn your craft better than most. You learn accuracy, precision, strength. Throwing knives feels even better than it looks, you know you hold in both your hands the ability to take life from someone who is not worthy of it.

When you were in fifth grade, boys decided to see how fun it would be to push your buttons. You were smarter than them, faster than them. They didn't like losing to a girl, why is being a girl shameful, you asked your teacher this once. She did not answer you, you suspect she does not know. If you were the first to answer a question, and you often were, they would tease you. Try hard, was their favorite. Well maybe, if they wanted to beat you they should try harder. You told a boy this once and he grabbed your arm and called you a bitch. Your mom did not let you start taking martial arts classes.

If they did not like your words, perhaps they would respond to physical intimidation. You preferred kicking shins, it did not result in blood and there was lots of sweet, sweet, plausible deniability. Not that they ever tried to get you in trouble, the biggest thing in the world is a man’s ego. You became meaner, colder. Your mother asks you where her sweet girl went, she does not want to hear that perhaps she never existed. No one can hurt you if you never let them in. If you carry yourself with a scowl and your words bite those who try you and you hurt those who try to hurt you. They can't, you won't let them. You are not weak like they are, you are strong. It never quite works though, the boys in your class see a challenge. Something they can beat. They challenge you loudly, in front of everything and everyone. You can no longer afford to make a mistake. If you do, they yell we beat Elle, haha we did it. The teachers watch as they attack you. Most do not care. The kind girls in your class do not experience this and maybe, just maybe, you should go back to being like them. It makes you feel vulnerable though, to be kind without question. No, they have to earn your kindness, earn your respect. Giving it out for free did not win you anything. You take the name bitch and wear it like a badge of honor.

Eventually, you fall for the propaganda of your team being a family. As an only child, you’ve sometimes wished for siblings, maybe you’ve found them. Reid is like your little brother, annoying at times, but sweet and endearing. You would cause destruction if anything happened to him. He deserves it. JJ is hard to describe as a part of your family, she reminds you of Lily with her bright eyes and kind smile. She is not Lily but you wonder if she would ever consider being with you. She is a part of this world of darkness, you might not soil her. Oh, but you would, it is selfish of you to think that you could be loved and not ruin them. Your touch is like a virus, it kills if given the chance. You will not give it another shot.

Garcia is your sister, she is concerned about you when you risk your life in the field time, and time again, you can’t help but think she chose the wrong job. You love her, almost, and not quite. She is always sweet to you, her personality is a breath of fresh air in this world. It needs more of her and that's why you want to be close to her but can’t. Morgan is your older brother, he roughhouses with you, he won't admit it but you are just as good as him. You knew you would be, the world underestimates you, and as annoying as it is, it is your advantage. He understands you, you think he is not the only one who is afraid of loving others, of course, neither of you says anything but you never needed to. Gideon and Hotch would be your fathers but they are nothing like your father. Your father was kind and he taught you things, he gave you praise. Hotch and Gideon are cold to you, Gideon more than Hotch. They are both fathers but you feel sorrow for their children. It must hurt to know they will always be second in importance to killers, that they are not enough to be home every night for. You resent them both for hurting their children.

Fresh out of college means it’s time for a career. You decide to join the FBI, the police were not enough to save your father, they are almost useless, you need to be powerful. You join the highest law enforcement in the country and you excel. Sex crimes is not a fun job, but you take pleasure in taking down men who decided to pray on women and children. They do not deserve the nice jail cells they get, but you hope they do get what's coming for them in prison. Of course, that banks on them getting jail time at all. Rape is the only crime where people can suggest that the victim enjoyed it. It is the only subjective crime. There is no enjoyable murder or robbery, victims do not ask to have their identity stolen. It fills you with more rage than you knew was available. You are close with your colleges but you are not their friends. They think you are though. You drink with them, you play games with them, you joke with them. You do not care very much about them. It is a weakness to rely on others for joy, it is foolish to attach yourself to people who are here to hold up a broken system. You also hold up that system, for now at least. You promise yourself you will never be close to your teammates. Justice has no room for friendship.

Gideon keeps a book of people who he has saved. You keep a book of vile men who’ve charmed the justice system, not you though, you are justice but you are not a system. Perhaps you are vengeance.

Your mother taught you to cook when you were little, Cuban food to keep your father alive in memory. As if he would smell the spices and resurrect from the dead. You continue to cook though, it's a hobby and a good one. It provides for you. Unlike Reid, Chinese take out is not your main food source.

Never cut peppers while thinking about murder. A rule no one taught you but they most definitely should have. Your mind is full of your latest case. A pedophile who would cut the hair off his victims to make a doll of them. He wanted to keep them forever, forever young too. You cut your finger instead of the pepper. The pain does not bother you, you are far too used to it for it to impact you, in fact, if anything it makes you feel alive. There is blood dripping down your finger and you are memorized. It’s different from the blood when you were shot, this is carefully controlled. The contrast of it against your skin is divine. You’ve always thought blood was messy, the villain that comes once a month, and an inconvenience when you cut yourself shaving. You never thought it was elegant until now. You don’t want to continue to cut yourself, that was never your brand. But now, maybe after being inside the minds of men who hurt others, you wish to see their blood run down your hands.

You clean and wash your finger, you’ll catalog and examine those thoughts for another day. You are not evil, not like that. At least you hope not. Although, what would it matter if there was one more person committing sins out there. God has lost control already, he will not control you, society will not control you. You are in control, more than you’ve ever been.

At night you lie awake and think about what you could do to cement your newfound control. You think about the men who’ve gotten away with their heinous acts. You think that perhaps, it would feel good to kill them. For them to suffer like they made others suffer. Prison was not for them, the judges made sure of that. They say liberty and justice for all. These men have liberty but they have not found justice. You will help them find it.

Not only did Randall Garner break into your house and shoot you. He had the audacity to stick his filthy finger in your bullet wound and write on the walls of your home. He wrote ‘rules’, how ironic. You’ve lived by the rules your father gave you even before he was buried in the earth. Now, you’re being punished for not following the rules of a killer. Your father’s rules were not enough to save you. It’s time you break them and make your own.

Rule 1: Do not take shit from anyone, especially a man. If they are cruel to you, be crueler to them. This, however, does not mean to be rude to everyone. Simply, just like in middle school, people must earn your respect. Children, however, are exempt. They have not been tainted by the universe yet, they are unmarked and kind. If they are not kind, something made them that way and they deserve your kindness more than anyone else.

Rule 2: Be smarter and be faster than everyone else. They will not catch you, they may know it's you, it's inevitable, but you will be as free as the men you will hunt.

Rule 3: Friends are for fools, you do not need them. They will slow you down and they will try to convince you that you are wrong, that you need fixing. You can almost hear Reid telling you that you need help, that you're sick. You are not a coward, and you do not need fixing.

High school was not the best time of your life, but it certainly wasn't the worst. You had a tight circle of friends, you didn't quite share with each other, at least your secrets. But you cared enough about each other that it was not important that they didn't know about you. Your friends didn't need to know about your pining over the girl in your math class, that helped you out if you ever needed it and was as sharp as her jawline. You weren’t lonely and that was enough for you, you were, dare you say it, happy. You cooked for your friends on occasions, typically birthdays. You got invited to parties and learned to love the loud music and the smell of beer. You were top of your class, much to some people’s chagrin, but they couldn’t shake you. You joined debate so you could argue for a sport, and boy were you good at it. Teachers said they never met anyone as passionate as you, you didn't tell them that you carry resentment for the shallow topics they choose. There's airing on the side of apolitical and there's apathy towards others. They didn’t like you discussing your opinions, that did not stop you one bit.

Your friend that was always a bit more plays with your hair and you think that maybe the world is kind and gentle, maybe she's right. You feel safe in her lap, her hand carding through your hair before she starts to braid it. It’s intimate in a way that makes you want to sob, no one has touched you like they aren’t afraid of you or aren’t afraid of you breaking in a very long time. You look too much like your father for your mother, and you feel disconnected from her. The two of you do not embrace.

The ceiling above you is popcorn and if you stare long enough you imagine it’s the stars, a beautiful constellation. The world always feels so small with just the two of you. You don’t like being reminded that it is you that is small, not the world. The world is large and it is terrifying, a disheartening juxtaposition.

After someone decides that maybe you shouldn't die you are rushed to the hospital. Granted, you're the one the dialed 911, you always did have to save yourself. You don’t remember much, you are so tired and you’ve lost so much blood. The medics say that they are losing you, perhaps you were never here to begin with. They administer cpr to you and you feel like your body is being crushed. It feels like they are going to kill you as they try to save your life. The next time you open your eyes you're back on the jet. You feel like you're dreaming, and then you know it can’t be real because your father is here. Your father is dead so you think that you must be too. What a cruel trick it must be to have your afterlife still consumed by your job, you are on a jet but you can not fly it. Dad calls you peanut and you almost lose it right there. The shelter you built for your heart after his loss feels like it's been shattered. You feel raw, exposed. Somehow, in his presence, you do not mind it quite so much. You’ve missed him more than you remember and you almost hope that this is real. What this is, you aren’t sure. He tells you it’s a midway point, that you have to choose whether or not you want to live. And that you must make it now.

On the one hand, living always has been a chore. It’s peaceful here with your father. The two of you can talk about everything you’ve always wanted to talk about. You’d like to hear his thoughts on philosophy. He always was your hero.

On the other hand, who will water your plants? You haven’t gotten to say goodbye to the bau and you haven't gotten your justice yet.

You choose to live.

When you moved into your apartment, the first thing you did after unboxing everything was to buy a plant. Your apartment looked dead, just because you were here to make your living in death and you’ve never quite felt alive, did not mean your apartment was doomed to suffer the same fate. You started small with a succulent, they were supposed to be easy to take care of. Slowly your collection grew, you were growing flowers and herbs as well. Your house has never felt more like a home than when all your plants are blooming. It gives you a purpose, something to come home for. You’d also like a cat but you know you are never home enough to sustain all its needs. Hotch has a son at home that he never sees but you suppose that he’s not as important to him as your cat would be to you. You try your hand at painting on your wall, like maybe you learned something from all the time you stared at Lily. You wonder if she still thinks of you, if she looks at the stars and remembers you. You still have the blanket she gave you. It adorns your couch and you think it might be your most prized possession.

You consider getting a tattoo of poetry or a quote in her honor, you feel somedays like you might be obsessed with her but you also might just be in love with her still. You’ve found that there's a fine line between love, obsession, and insanity. Where you fall on the scale you aren’t sure yet and you know you don’t want to find out. You think the two of you were like the quote; ‘A sky full of stars and he was staring at her’. That first night where you walked together was exactly that. She was more beautiful than the night sky and you love the night sky. Maybe someday you’ll get that tattoo but for now, you have crimes to solve and your heart to bury.

You’ve always known that other Latina women were of the more likely to be victims of sexual crimes. That didn't stop you from being shocked and having your heart break every time you saw another woman like you report a heinous crime done to her. You’ve never appreciated your mother deciding you needed to speak Spanish more than when you’ve been able to communicate in these women’s native language. Something about language makes people feel safe, at home. You think perhaps, communication is the world's greatest tool.

You cut your hair like you think it will solve your problems. Like you don’t feel like murder is an option now, like you don’t resent your team for getting you shot. Like you don’t feel like every man is out to get you. At least more than they were before. For a team of gifted profilers, no one seems to notice that you are breaking. Or maybe they do and they simply don’t care that you lie awake at night wondering if your choice to live was a good one or how your blood looked on your knife that day where you accidentally cut yourself. Or maybe, you’ve gotten so used to hiding yourself that they simply think you are still the same person you were before a bullet pierced your skin. Before a man targeted you for not following his rules. Because he needed to be in control. Now he’s dead and it's your turn to be in control. They won’t notice it at first. But you will start controlling them ever so slightly. And then, then you will strike. First, you will make them think you have PTSD, after all, you’d be a prime victim to it. They will be lenient because they think you dream about your attack and not how nice it would feel to slice through the skin of a monster. They don’t know you, you've made sure of that. You’ll open up to Reid if by open you mean fake everything. You’ll tell him about the dreams you aren’t having, and that you definitely see his face everywhere you go. How your walls still feel like they are covered in your blood. Of course, that would be suspicious so first, you will be short. You will be passive-aggressive, more than normal, you will make him see that you are wrong. He will be compelled to help you, ask you what is wrong. He’s too kind to you and this world, he hasn’t quite been burned yet. He will. Maybe by you, maybe by some other man who decides he broke a rule. Someone might think he is too, a sinner. He falls right into your trap. You decide to really play up the trauma and you raid your minibar. Fourteen-year-old you was right about alcohol, it does let you float above everything, you aren’t happy but you are above everything. He knocks on your door and you pretend to be drunker than you are. After lying straight to his face while you put on yet another facade, you kick him out. Tell him that he can’t fix you. Oops, maybe that was more of the truth than you wanted him to know.

There's a slight flaw in this new plan of yours. You were always a bit too sensitive about rapists, perhaps it's a combination of your youth, your womanhood, and the fact that you have sympathy. And rage. You are told by Hotch, who if he wasn't your boss you are sure you’d have told him to go to hell by now, to set yourself up to be an almost rape victim. They tell you that of course, it won’t happen. They’ll be watching you. Problem is you don’t trust him with your life. Shouldn’t trust him with your life, he is of course the one who loaded the gun for the man you shot you. You agree, because you have to, you can’t say no without fielding questions and avoiding pointed stares. It’s too much for you though, it's like you’re in your own personal horror movie. You turn up the music and you block out their calls. You do not want to hear from them right now. It all goes south when you accost the man who wants to take you for himself. You are reprimanded for your actions but you don’t give a single fuck.

It's time for the next step in your plan. Justice. Or as some would call it, murder.

You go back to your hotel with the rest of the team so they don't suspect anything of you. They never do. Later, you’ll go for a walk to clear your head, you’ll make sure someone hears you leave. You’ll track down this son of a bitch and you’ll make sure that he doesn’t live to see another day where he can create evil. You’ve always thought the law did its job, but Hotch says that he’ll have to be let go because there isn’t enough evidence now that you’ve ruined everything. He doesn't say that in as many words. His stoic nature allows him to be ruthless without saying anything, which works for him because no one can ever call him out on subtext. If the law doesn’t care about women, you will. You corner William Lee and you point your gun at him. He smirks at you and you’re glad he does, it makes your job that much more satisfying. You fire at him. You’ve been shot at now, you know how it feels, you watch as the life in him slowly leaves his eyes and it’s more addicting than anything you’ve ever felt. His blood pours onto the pavement much like yours dripped onto your floor. You think it would be more enjoyable if you had his blood on your hands. If you could feel the life leaving him. Next time.

The team finds you, gunshots are very loud, one more point to a knife. You tell them it was self-defense. They mistake the slight shake in your voice as fear, not adrenaline, the good kind. That's on them though. Elle Greenaway does not get scared, she creates fear. You can tell that they don’t 100% believe you, and they shouldn't, but they accept it anyway. You know someone is going to corner you after this, ask you what really happened. You decide that you’ve had enough of chasing killers. Now you’ll be the killer, being chased by them while you’re hunting rapists.

Back when you were new at the BAU and JJ’s smile still gave you butterflies you wondered how they all fell so easily together. Reid and Gideon had chess, Morgan and Garcia had, whatever they had, JJ, Reid, and Morgan were like siblings, Hotch and Gideon the heads of the family. And then there was you. You didn't quite fit in, not yet at least. You wondered how they could make bonds with people that could very well be shot and killed in the coming case. How they could make themselves vulnerable to that kind of destruction. It was better to be cold, it was better to not let them in.

Too bad you always were bad at keeping your promises. You let them worm their way into your heart. It makes saying goodbye oh so much harder. Somehow, you don’t quite regret it though, it made your time amongst the blood enjoyable. Well, as enjoyable as it can be here. You still stand by your opinion that no family built on murder can be steady. It will crumble, and you will not be here to see it fall.

You open your booklet filled with men who make you seethe. When you were very young you assumed that monsters had a certain look to them. That they had red eyes filled with darkness, claws, to scratch you with. You thought if you saw a monster on the street you’d know it. Sadly, the monsters of the world live not in the shadows, but in the light. They are your baseball coaches and math teachers. Every time you arrested one, you heard echoes of the same flawed speech. I never suspected anything, he seemed so normal. There is no normal, it’s an illusion we hold to make ourselves feel safe in our own skin. We shouldn’t feel safe in our skin, that's what kills you.

Eeny, meeny, miny, moe, catch a rapist by his toes, if he hollers, let him scream, so much fun for you and me.

Your hand picks Caden Mechein. Kansas, victim count three, blondes. You take the train, pay in cash, your hair is dyed red and you cut it to a pixie cut so you won't be quite as recognizable to Garcia. Your baseball hat and sunglasses should help with that. You’ve changed your fashion, it fulfills a fantasy you didn't know you had. You dress like a punk now, good thing your mother can’t see you she’d have a fit. You sit alone as the train fills up, no one asks to sit with you, like they know you’re dangerous. Good. You want them to be afraid of you. You stare out the window the entire trip, images flash in your head of what you're about to do. You watch the fields and fields of corn come into visions and you know it's almost time.

After a day and a half of planning and anticipation, you’ve arrived in Topeka. It’s a nice place, different from the east coast. People are friendlier here, you’ve heard about the midwestern nice but it’s different to actually experience a stranger smiling at you while you walk down the street. The darkness conceals you like you conceal the knife on your hip, hidden behind your leather jacket. You have latex gloves in your pocket because as much as you would love to feel his blood on your hands you aren’t going to risk leave fingerprints

You reach Caden’s house, his lights are off, he’s asleep. Perfect. You will kill him in his own home just like you were almost killed in yours. You jimmy the lock, breaking a window is too loud, too suspicious you do not want him to know you’re coming. Suspense is key for murder, it builds up in their heart and makes it just that much better when they see the knife in your hand. Or you’d think, it is your first kill after all.

You make your way into this sicko’s home, you find his bedroom. And you knock on the door. He curses like Jesus Christ will save him from you, he is no match for you. He is out of bed now, he’s asking you what you want. Your blood, you answer him. He pales, just like he’ll look when his blood is drained from his neck. You corner him in the corner of his room and you bring your knife out from your holster. It glimmers in the moonlight, because he feels so safe and secure in his room that he sleeps with a curtain open. Well, felt safe, you doubt he’s very secure with you spinning the knife in front of his face. Why are you doing this, he pleads with you like that will make you walk out of the room right here and abandon your plans. Men always were stupid and arrogant. You tell him that he knows exactly why, that this is his comeuppance for what he did to those girls.

Enough is enough, time to get what you want. You grasp the knife, marveling in its weight, in one bold stroke you slice his neck open. The blood gushes, it does not touch you, you made sure to step back before the flooding began. You watch mesmerized as the floor begins to stain crimson. Caden gasps for air, his feet give out and he falls on the floor. His head hits the wall with a satisfying thud. Eventually, the bleeding stops and you walk away, leaving his corpse to cool before it burns in hell.

Once upon a time, you would have added a signature, perhaps a Birdsfoot Trefoil, signifying revenge. That would be too clean and sweet for the police so you don’t give them it. You wonder how long it will take them to realize that this is the work of a vengeful woman. You hope it doesn't take long, you want the world to see your wrath.

Just like you suspected when you returned home from William Lee’s case, Hotch pulls you into his office. You can see the anger in his eyes and you know then and there that he could kill you with his bare hands and not think twice about it. He is angry because he knows what you’ve done, he’s a firm believer that the law does no wrong and he is a coward.

“Elle, I need to know if you murdered William Lee.”

You scoff at him, “of course not, who do you think I am?” He does not reply and you think that says more than if he had written a thesis about you.

“No Hotch, I didn’t commit cold-blooded murder while on the clock for the FBI”,

You both know that that isn’t true, only one of you is sure.

“Why do you care about him anyway? Relate to him, maybe?”

“Do not throw those kinds of accusations at me, Agent Greenaway.”

He throws your official title as a way of saying that you are no longer his friend, lucky for you never once thought he was, you are not in the habit of befriending men who would see your death as inevitable. You know that this is the end of your stay at the federal bureau of investigation. Might as well go out with a bang.

“Right, of course, my bad. Forgot you think you’re better than everyone else. I have news for you Hotch, you’re a shit father and a terrible husband. You never see your family, you’re so caught up in the high of catching killers your son barely knows who you are. I don’t think you’re any better than the men we catch”

“Elle, I understand you are still recovering from what happened to you but you can not speak to me this way. You’re suspended two weeks without pay, and are pending investigation”

He uses your name now because he knows you are right, he wants you to see him as the good man he sees in the mirror. You want his mirror to crack under what it sees.

“What happened to me? Oh yeah, when you let me get shot because you don’t give a fuck about me or any of the women on this team. I'm not suspended, I’m never coming back to this hell hole. I quit,”

You leave your badge and your gun on his desk. You won’t be needing them.

You ride the high of your first kill like you the first time you got high in highschool. You feel powerful, and like you’ve done the right thing. Out of curiosity, you check the news on your train to Nevada, they don’t mention Caden’s sins. They make him a saint that died as a tragedy not out of righteousness. You’ll make sure they know the sins of your next body.

After you slice this one's throat, you’ll dip your finger in his throat much like Randall Garner did to you, and write ‘scum’ on his forehead. He does not deserve honor in his death, he deserves shame.

Your body count racks up and you’ve never felt both powerful and powerless. You are making a difference, these men who think themselves above the law are finding that they are not above your law. The look on their faces when they understand what’s coming for them is a thing of elegance. When they see all 5’8 of you and realize that they will lose to a woman. Their crimes have not been forgotten, will never be forgiven, and now they will die because of them. They hurt women so now they will be hurt by a woman.

Every day you read the news about another man who you must add to your list and you are disheartened. You are sick of this tango for one. You long for the days of your past when you were happy. Those days are over though, this is your job now and you do it well. You do this for all the past versions of you, some more innocent, some more jaded, all you, all beautiful. For every girl who has ever felt victimized by a man who considers himself mighty. For every girl who still lives in bliss about what the men around her are capable of. You will try to make sure she never learns. You do this for every beautiful, broken girl and so that there needs not to be more of you, this club needs no more members. It’s time they make a new club for girls who are happy, you wish you could have been one of them.

Spanish translation (I am not a native spanish speaker forgive me for any errors):

'Fueron la cosa favorita de tu papá, cariño. Lo echo de menos cada dia.' It was your father's favorite thing sweetheart. I miss him every day

'Sea bilingual mija, los estudios dicen que es buena para tu cerebro. ¿No quises saber la lengua materna de sus ancestros?' You should be bilingual my daughter, the studies say it's good for your brain. Don't you want to know the mother tongue of your ancestors?

Tag List!: @royalpenelope @scandinavian-punk @theatreandfeminism @babey-jj @hellskitchensmurdock

#elle greenaway #Elle greenaway fic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #lucy's fics!#mine!#criminal minds #let me know what you think! 🥺

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beyondstupidityblog · 4 years ago

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On March 13th 2021, two friends and I did what never could have imagined possible, I watched Freddy Got Fingered for the ninth time, and it will by no means be the last. I’m explaining this to you, dear reader, so you and I have an important understanding between us. You will be reading the ramblings of one whose brain has curdled like milk left out in the hot afternoon sun. Now that introductions are out of the way, let us begin.

Freddy Got Fingered is a 2001 Comedy starring and directed by Tom Green as the Non-Titular Gordon Brody; an aspiring animator who goes to California to realize his dream, only to be constantly crushed under the weight of his father’s expectations. Sounds tame at first, but what lies beneath the veneer of mediocrity is truly impressive. Completely bombed, audiences hated it, and critics loathed it. Roger Ebert got angry, saying “it isn’t even below the bottom of the barrel” and “Green should be flipping burgers somewhere.”. “Tasteless”, “appalling”, “offensive”, “gross”, and “poo poo,” are just some of the things people have had to say about this film. Animal genitalia can be seen on screen for much longer than anyone could have expected, Tom Green swinging a baby akin to a morning-star with its umbilical cord, said umbilical cord being stolen and taped onto his stomach, gratuitous caning of a nymphomaniac paraplegic, and the dissection of a deer carcass. It is an abrasive experience that leaves a terrible taste in the mouths of those who mention it. Nonetheless, I love this movie.

You ever see a contemporary art exhibit that has a piece that just looks like garbage somebody left out but in actuality is a tongue-and-cheek allusion to the pitiful state of modern art? That garbage is Freddy Got Fingered, and that exhibit is Hollywood. At face value it just seems like a poorly done film by a comedian trying to use his name to get a few butts in the seats before his irrelevancy arrives, but when scrutinized as a commentary of comedy films do the pieces start to fall into place. Tropes like the Protagonist being an unremarkable honkey, gross-out designed to get some cheap quick chuckles, side-characters who occupy the space solely for comedic relief, a shoe-horned romantic side-plot, and an equally as shoehorned in happy ending are all present in a mocking fashion. So many of these Hollywood schlockfests that this movie is paying homage to abuse tropes in some vain attempt to trick the audience into thinking they’re having a good time, when in reality it just reminds viewers of films that they’ve already watched before and could be enjoying instead. All of the awkward and uncomfortable scenes of gross-out and romance are purposeful, because nothing is quite as awkward and uncomfortable than a film disengaging the audience with its own mediocrity. “This is what it’s like to endure this trash!” Drunkenly screams Freddy Got Fingered atop the tallest piece of furniture in the room, while also exposing its genitals to keep you from getting too comfortable around it. Unlike the films it is parodying, its obsession with making a fool out of audiences rips them away from the comfort of the cinema, making them genuinely ask if it is worth wasting their time watching a film called Freddy Got Fingered. Even the title is an intentional slight, as it seems to be completely untethered to the actual plotline and is instead a reference to a seemingly inconsequential scene. But then again, that is the point of it all. Tom Green is an artist, and on his canvas is a portrait of Hollywood with all of the ugly little imperfections that cause a movie like this to be created. But this is just the meta-narrative of Freddy Got Fingered, something that you could find all over the internet. Why do I resonate with it so much, and what about it makes it so exceptional that led to this unhealthy fascination?

Every instance that I’ve rewatched Freddy Got Fingered has always brought about a new side to it, and in the process leaves me craving for more. Gord is an interesting take on the average leading man. He is on the surface bland and inoffensive, made so in order to allow the majority of the audience to immediately identify with him, said group being 20-something skater guys with unrealistic expectations of themselves. Made especially ironic when after the introduction of Gord as an adept skateboarding rebel escaping from authority, he starts to show that in reality he is an unlikeable, bratty, entitled, and all around unpleasant person. Barely a scene passes before we see him masturbate a horse while exclaiming he is a farmer to his father who is not present, seemingly a crude gag but is in reality an insight into his low self worth caused by his imposter syndrome stemming from distant paternal relationship. I would like to remind you, dear reader, that I am still writing of Freddy Got Fingered, in case you were beginning to think I have lost my mind (The answer is yes by the way). All throughout the film Gordon Brody puts on masks for different situations, never allowing himself to be who he is. When infiltrating the Animation studio where he wishes to pitch his cartoons, he pretends to be a mailman to get past reception and then impersonates a police officer when the former stops being effective. Donning the visage of a British Bobby, he dashes into the restaurant where the man he is searching for, Mr. Wallace, is eating. Showing him his cartoons, Wallace is impressed with the potential they have, but says that they are incoherent and lack real substance. Upon rejection, Gord puts a pistol in his mouth before Wallace stops him and advises what he should do to improve. Gord was genuinely ready to blow his brains out the back of his skull if he wasn’t able to get his show greenlit, and it hit me in that moment that he isn’t just some random jackass, but a victim of detrimentally low self-esteem.

The origins of his complex are made apparent when he goes back home to Oregon and are reintroduced to his Family. We see that his father Jim, played by Rip Torn, is disappointed in his return and begins to sneer at him for his failure. This father and son dynamic always has tension in every scene from this point onwards. Gord, who just wants to be accepted for who he is and not judged by what the world expects him to be, is always at the receiving end of Jim’s wrath, who values his idea of a successful life over the happiness of his sons. From here it becomes little wonder why Gord is the way he is, all his life he was told that who he was is not good enough, he has to be what his father wants if he is to be considered worthy of not only love, but being treated with a modicum of dignity. Whenever Gord acts eccentric or divulges his interests to his father, they are met with either resentment supplemented by verbal assault, or physical violence. After a late-night skateboard outing to escape from his father’s wrath goes awry, he visits his convalescing friend in the hospital, whereupon he meets one of the more interesting characters in relation to Gord, the love interest Betty.

A horny wheelchair bound temptress may not seem like it upon first glance, but Betty is actually the most interesting character out of the entire cast. She feels genuine, introduced as a bored receptionist flipping a coffee creamer idly. Gord immediately strikes up a conversation, whereupon he and the audience find out she has an interest in physics, and apparently an interest in him as well. Betty is strangely well written for what most considered at the time to be a crass sexual joke, so much so that she would actually be a better protagonist than him. She is everything Gord is not, she’s smart, funny, ambitious, and kind to a fault. Even her side plot to create a rocket powered wheelchair makes for a much more unique plot than the one given. Even Gord reciprocates this sentiment in their meeting, lying that he is a stockbroker in an attempt to impress her. In fact, sectioning her off as just the dull protagonist's love interest is a jab at how women in these movies are only there to serve in the development for the male protagonist, just nothing more than their muse. Nonetheless, without this relationship the movie would lose a lot of its soul. Romantic chemistry in comedy films is always hit or miss, but Gord and Betty do seem to have it surprisingly. They’re both silly and impulsive, creatively driven to a fault, but just different enough to eek out the best and worst in them. Gord thinks that what he wants to do with his life is wasteful, but Betty doesn’t. Now I don’t mean that she directly affirms that he is worthwhile like most poorly written love interests would, stroking their lover’s(and by extension the director’s) ego, rather she confronts him with her optimism. He asks if she would feel stupid and like a loser if her experiment failed. Taken aback at first, she questions why she would, relaying that her failures are just as important as her successes. Gord’s self-worth is directly tied to his ability to succeed, whereas Betty doesn’t need this affirmation. Their dialogue further cements how detrimental his father’s overbearingness was to his outlook, and how he is slowly beginning to realize how destructive that mindset is.

At their dinner date, Jim sees Gord and Betty across the restaurant, then reveals that Gord was lying to both him and her about his office job while poking fun at her disability, leading to a father-son scuffle that throws the entire floor into utter chaos. Cops show up, Gord and Jim are detained, and Betty bails Gord out. Most mediocre comedies at this point would have the love interest be upset that her significant other lied to her, leading to him having to make things right to repair their relationship before the happy ending. Breaking the mold, Betty does not get angry with Gord even a smidgen, choosing to be understanding of his situation now that she caught a glimpse into his home-life. She just plain likes Gord, willing to put up with him more than she really should, but still chooses to look past his lies and self-destructive nature for who he truly is, someone who just wants to be accepted by the world around him. Someone just like her.

Right after that enaction of social terrorism performed by the Brody father and son duo, they decide it would be best to go to family therapy and assail the audience with what I fondly refer to it as, “The Scene.” “The Scene” is Freddy Got Fingered’s statement to the world, it is what instills a man with the impetus to rewatch a glorified stoner daydream for the ninth time and leave him wanting more! Gord accuses his father, in a final act of defiance, of molesting his younger brother Freddy. During the ensuing confusion Gord picks up a bust of Sigmund Freud and throws it into the glass window pane, allowing him to escape into the evening sun. The authorities take Freddy away and send him to The Home for Molested Children, and the family slowly unravels from then on. Besides the heavy handed metaphor of Freud’s theories being used as a way for Gord to escape his predicament while simultaneously discrediting them, “The Scene” also recontextualizes Freddy, innocuous of a character as he is, as Gord’s foil. He is in the movie very little but when he is it is to serve one of two purposes: To be compared to Gord, or to be treated as an object. During breakfast much earlier in the film after a fight between Gord and Jim, Freddy tries to explain to his brother that he should grow up. Gord, surprisingly, talks down to him and halts the conversation.

Gord: “He's driving me insane.”

Freddy: “No. No, you're driving him insane. You're older than me and you still live at home. I have a job, you know. I pay my own way.”

Gord: “You work in a bank. Should I be dazzled?”

Freddy: “Well, at least I don't live at home!”

Gord: “No, you live in a tiny shithole and you come here to eat for free.”

With these lines it is plain to see that despite Freddy’s idea of success directly lining up with his father’s, he is even more pitiful than Gord. What little we know of him is to show that his acquiescence to his father’s expectations has left him bereft of not only genuine personal success, but of dignity itself. When child protective services come to take him away, he is half naked, mouth agape, watching open heart surgery on television, a palpable indication of emptiness. He isn’t treated as an adult either, as his protests to the police fall on deaf ears as both them and the psychologist infantilize him. Why would Tom Green name this movie after a character like Freddy, whose lack of presence and characterization make him little more than an afterthought when looking back on the story? Or did I just answer my own question? Freddy is not a character because he is not allowed to be one, he is just too passive and accepting of his circumstances for him to stand out. All he can be is a doll that Jim uses to dress up as the perfect son, and this passiveness leads to Gord, the “failure,” to both pity and resent what he let himself become. That’s why Gord accuses their father of molesting him, after all he does narratively violate Freddy’s autonomy by consistently making decisions for him. Evidently enough, as soon as Gord dons a suit for a quick bit Jim is elated because he believes that his son finally gave in to his demands for him to get a job, because he is acting more like his obedient brother. In this sense Freddy is the most tragic member of the Brody clan, a literal manchild whose growth was stunted by overbearing guardians. When I think of him, a bonsai tree comes to mind. Sure, it looks healthy, but when you realize that it could have grown into a much bigger plant if it were not for its small pot, that realization of wasted potential comes with a tinge of melancholy.

I want to end this essay with a moral that I took away from Freddy Got Fingered, as strange enough as that sounds, and what it has to say about art as a whole. Put simply, this is a story about revenge. Despite and because of his Father’s harsh ways, Gord managed to take from the trauma he sustained throughout his life and sublimated it into his animation. Creation not only lets him heal, but also acts as retaliation against Jim once he becomes successful. So long as you have the drive to prove everyone’s doubts and admonishments wrong by persevering out of wicked spite, you will have the last laugh. Freddy Got Fingered is a story about revenge through artistic expression, and I think that is quite beautiful.

#freddy got fingered #tom green #movies #essay paper #comedy

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moviemunchies · 4 years ago

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You know Over the Moon is pretty good, but it’s not anywhere near as great as it could be.

Over the Moon tells the story of Fei Fei, a young Chinese science prodigy and the daughter of two bakers. When her mother passes away, she clings to her mother’s story about Chang’e, the goddess of the Moon, who lost her love Houyi and still waits to be reunited with him. Years later, when it seems her father is going to remarry, and upon hearing family members doubting the story of Chang’e, takes it upon herself to build a rocket and go to the Moon, and find proof of Chang’e and that love lasts forever. But her soon-to-be stepbrother Chin sneaks onboard, and it turns out that Chang’e is not… quite what she expected.

There is a lot going on in this film, and I don’t think it all needs to be there. It’s only about an hour and a half, so it doesn’t have room to develop every element. So this results in plenty of extraneous material that’s fun, but I don’t know that it really goes anywhere or adds anything substantial to the movie.

For instance:

-Chin has a pet frog. It’s a fun background sidekick. That’s it.

-Chang’e and Chin play ping pong for the right to go home with proof of her, and it’s also a musical number. It’s a great scene, and a catchy song, but after Chin wins Chang’e doesn’t fulfill her end of the bargain anyway, so this scene does… nothing at all.

-Gobi is this Lunarian pangolin thing that provides comic relief, and reveals that Chang’e (and Fei Fei) doesn’t want to face the possibility of moving on after loss, but that… easily could have been accomplished through any other means, and he doesn’t really stay in the movie long enough for me to feel like he should be there.

Sure, they’re cute scenes/characters, but they don’t really do that much. I think if the film had put a bit more thought into itself it would have incorporated these elements better, or eliminated them to make a better film.

Which is not to say it’s a bad film. It’s not. Visually it’s pretty stunning. None of it is going to blow your mind, I think--I don’t know if I’d say there are any animation tricks that are completely original or out there. But it looks very good, and it’s unabashedly colorful in its depiction of its worlds and characters.

And also! It’s a family film based on Chinese mythology! I think that we in the West don’t really have anything near a solid grasp on Chinese culture at all, much less mythology and folk tales. So seeing a movie exist that’s being widely circulated that’s about a story important to the Chinese people and features an all-Asian cast is pretty darn cool.

[Mind you, that cast isn’t all Chinese; several prominent members are Korean. YMMV on whether that’s weird or not.]

Asian cultural influence is all over this movie--not just in its Plot, but in its characters, its setting, and its style. The big musical number Chang’e performs upon Fei Fei and Chin’s arrival, “Ultraluminary,” is a bit odd from a Western perspective, but it’s reminiscent of Chinese pop stars, which is exactly the kind of impression that Chang’e is trying to give to the mortal characters: flashy, bombastic, and larger than life. But that also carries some of the different implications about her character, given, y’know, pop stardom.

I suspect “Ultraluminary” will be stuck in my head for the next few days…

So yeah, this movie has a lot going for it. But it’s not as fantastic of a film as it could be if it’d tightened the writing a bit more. Sure, it’s spectacular; I wish it had a bit more substance though. It’s not bad or dumb, though, so if you’re looking for a fun animated movie, or a film with an all Asian cast, based around Chinese culture, it’s definitely worth your time.

#Over the Moon #Chang'e #Chinese mythology #animation #Netflix #Movie Munchies

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sserpente · 6 years ago

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A/N: Request from anon. I received this prompt during Christmas season and decided to keep it. I had so much fun writing it, so… enjoy, my lovelies! ;-)

Words: 3406 Warnings: shameless smut

Tony was grumpy, to say the least. It was Valentine’s Day and with his fiancé Pepper Potts miles away on a different continent to do press work for him, there was no one around to spoil with expensive jewellery, thousands of roses and countless boxes of chocolate. And whenever Tony was grumpy, someone else would suffer for it.

Usually, it was his snarky comments that put the rest of the Avengers in a bad mood as well, be it during meetings or shared meals. This time, however, the billionaire was a ticking time bomb. You all knew that staying away from him and letting him noodle around in his lab until he had cooled off again was the best thing to do—provoking him any further never went well.

Unfortunately though, Loki did not know that—or much rather, he did not want to believe it. He was a god, after all. Tony Stark was by no means entitled to intimidate or threaten him with his stupid remarks.

Tony and Natasha were in the vast living area in the Avengers compound, about to pour themselves a drink when Loki entered, seemingly displeased that he would not have the black leather couch to himself to read in peace.

Stark was still cross with him, of course, and Thor was no help. Apart from you, he was about the only one who treated the God of Mischief nicely, more or less.

It was thus no surprise he heard the two of them whispering together when he approached, glaring them both down with slight annoyance. Not soon after, they were joined by Clint and Thor.

“There you are! I was about to drink the whole bottle myself… again.” Tony announced with a shrug.

Loki rolled his eyes. He should have stayed in his bedroom.

“Brother, why don’t you have a drink with us? It’s Valentine’s Day!” Stark flinched when he mentioned the holiday, eyeing something in his hand which Loki could not see from the corner of his eye. The God of Thunder was playing right into Tony’s cards. It was about time somebody pranked Loki in return for all the mischief he had caused around the compound already—besides, he didn’t exactly like the Trickster.

Meanwhile, Loki sighed. Alcohol… well, it did do its job and helped numbing his stupid anxiety for a while. There was no reason to decline. He could always come back for more at night when the others were sleeping.

Quickly, he nodded in approval and watched Tony fill five glasses with his most expensive whiskey and add two ice cubes each. What he did not see, however, was that the last one, however, he spiked with a liquid blue substance. A few drops usually sufficed for a man to get him to perform more reliably, with Loki, however, he wasn’t quite sure. He was a god, after all—not from this world. So, without thinking, he poured the entire contents of the small glass bottle into his drink.

“Bottom’s up, Reindeer Games!” He yelled, fighting back a wicked smirk as he handed out the drinks and made sure that Loki received the one he had spiked with liquid Viagra. Oh, this was going to be so much fun, even if he wouldn’t witness himself the agony Loki would be going through in but a few hours.

He almost choked on his drink when the God of Mischief downed the whiskey in one go without clinking his glass with the others, then rolled his eyes once more and left. He really couldn’t wait to see how groggy, spent and utterly unsatisfied Loki would be tomorrow morning. He should tell FRIDAY to get the cameras ready.

Loki gasped, shifting uncomfortably on his bed. He had been reading the same chapter over and over for the past hour and had still not picked up its content. Something was horribly off. He felt like he was on fire, burning from the inside out and the heat, consuming and demanding, crept right towards his crotch.

His manhood twitched, hungry for attention and satisfaction as he felt himself growing so incredibly hard his loins were aching by the time he stood from the bed, moaning to himself. Granted, it had been a while since he had attended to his sexual needs but why did his Jötun body decide now, for Heaven’s sake, to ask for such carnal relief? Now that there was no royal concubine near that he could lure into his chambers for pleasure?

Gasping once more, he gave his cock a gentle squeeze, learning fairly quickly that whatever he was experiencing was most certainly not a normal erection. Much rather it felt like his arousal had been forced on him, like his own body had turned against him, manipulated by… Stark.

Loki tensed up. He must have put something in his drink. Cursing in Old Norse, he flung his book onto the bed and groaned. He should have known better. His malicious smile had been treacherous and he, for once, had been too naïve to act on it. What harm could an arrogant mortal being do to a god of royal blood, after all? He would have his revenge but for now, in his current state—a large bulge lurking in his leather trousers—there was no way he would let any of the Avengers catch sight of him.

He was unfamiliar with whatever Stark had spiked his drink with, his seidr was therefore rather useless until he could identify what had poisoned his body and whether it was permanent. Something told him, however, that if he simply jerked off and brought himself relief with his hand, his problem would not be solved.

Loki hated to admit it but he needed help—and there was only one person in the compound in line for the task.

You frowned when somebody knocked on your door. If this was Clint or Natasha asking you to get ready for another mission, you would positively throw the lamp on your nightstand at them. It was Valentine’s Day and you had all right to pout in bed, eat popcorn and chocolate and watch cheesy movies all day long.

You certainly didn’t expect Loki of all people to spoil your plans though. You got along fairly well, had shared quite a few late night conversations about life, his past and your future, yet most of the time the God of Mischief behaved rather restrained and never initiated any kind of socialism.

His jaw was working fiercely as he looked down at you with a dark glare. You smelled trouble.

“I need your help.”

Raising an eyebrow, you felt the corners of your mouth twitch. “Yes, I am fine, Loki, thank you for asking. Don’t worry, I wasn’t busy at all.” You said sarcastically.

The God of Mischief only rolled his eyes before he entered your bedroom and shut the door behind him so forcefully you flinched, sending a wave of worry through your body.

“Okay, what happened?” You continued a little softer. “Are you alright?”

“Clearly I am not.” He snapped back, pointing at his crotch. When you looked down, your eyes widened. Jesus Christ, he was hard. For a moment, you were utterly confused. Obviously, Loki was aroused, you just could not figure out why he would ask you for help.

“Um…”

“Stark spiked my drink,” he explained to enlighten you. “He put something in it and now…” Helplessly, he lifted his hands and dropped them again.

Oh. Holy shit… it didn’t take you long to put one and one together. The only logical explanation was that Stark had secretly poured liquid Viagra into Loki’s whiskey and he was now desperately dealing with the consequences. What you still couldn’t understand, however, was why he would march into your room with a giant bulge in his trousers.

The urge to burst out laughing grew with every second you looked at his pained expression. Being this hard without any form of relief working him towards orgasm felt unpleasant to say the least, yet the irony of the situation was hilarious. Loki, the God of Mischief, tricked into taking Viagra by Tony Stark.

“You’re a healer, do something about this… condition of mine.”

“Doctor. We call them doctors here on Earth and I am not. I mean, not yet. I had to pause my studies to help save the world, remember?”

“Whatever,” Loki hissed. “I need your help.”

Sighing, you gulped to stop yourself from grinning, attempting to remain serious.

“Okay, so it appears Tony has… spiked your drink with Viagra, also known as sildenafil citrate. It’s a very common pharmaceutical used to treat erectile dysfunction. That’s why it does what it… well, does.”

Loki narrowed his eyes at you, shock written all over his face. “Well, how do I stop it?”

“Um… you can’t, really. All we can do is wait for it to go away. Viagra is not harmful to your body, not if dosed correctly. I can imagine Tony exaggerated but your anatomy is much different from ours. I’m sure you will be fine.”

“How long does it last?” Loki asked with a dark voice.

“It can last up to five hours. If I am correct and Tony overdosed…” Then he might even stay hard after experiencing an orgasm. Why on Earth did the thought of this get you all hot and bothered? You had to admit it was rather sexy and arousing to see the God of Mischief stand before you with an impressive erection, desperate for someone to help him to some relief.

“I am not going to put up with this agony for five hours. There has to be something you can do about it.”

“Nothing that I know of, Loki.” At least, nothing that would be ethically and morally correct for a prospective doctor. But the excited glistening in your eyes gave you away. Loki took a step closer. You had a feeling he knew exactly what was going through your mind.

“You are a doctor, no?”

“Prospective d-doctor…”

“So I hereby ask for a treatment. Have you not sworn to help people out of their predicaments when you committed yourself to your medical studies?”

Swallowing thickly, you noticed your heartbeat speeding up.

“Y-yes but—“

“So help me then.” His voice was hoarse and devastated when he spoke, his body so close to yours you could feel his cool breath on your lips. You could tell his desire for pleasure was growing—and even though you were not opposed by the idea of him freeing his hard member from those tight leather trousers and stroke himself before your eyes, eventually, you agreed.

“Fine. Let me… take a look.”

Pleased with your answer, Loki nodded. It seemed like time was passing in slow motion when he undid the buttons of his trousers and pulled out his aching cock. It twitched under your scrutinising gaze, sending waves of heat and wetness straight to your own private body parts.

Stop. You had to remain professional. Clearing your throat, you knelt down in front of him, placing your palms on his strong thighs for support. Tony had definitely exaggerated with the dose. You could tell that Loki was in pain and while you did not understand why he didn’t just jerk off in his own bedroom to take away at least some of the pressure in his sack, the desire to touch him grew with every passing second.

So you simply did. What was there to deny? You wanted him. Gently at first, you let the tips of your fingers slide over his warm shaft, feeling the velvety skin and tracing the bluish vein until Loki involuntarily bucked his hips to meet your touch.

There was a tempting drop of precum glistening at the tip, inviting you to lick it off and suck him into your mouth. In fact… in fact you might actually be able to help him, screw a doctor’s principals and morals.

Licking your lips in joyful anticipation, you leaned forward and wrapped your lips around his cock, your tongue teasing his slit. A moan escaped your lips when you tasted his hard flesh.

“What… in Valhalla… are you doing?” He panted, eyes widened with shock.

With a silent smack, you withdrew, gazing up at him with innocent eyes. You understood the irony of the situation, of course. He had wanted mortals to kneel before him—and now you did, worshipping his cock because you were greedy and perhaps even delusional.

“I am helping you…” You choked out only a moment before you busied yourself with his aching length once more, licking over it with relish and causing him to grunt and throw his head back in pure bliss.

Now this was certainly an interesting turn of events but who were you to judge? This was so much better than watching cheesy movies and eating heart-shaped chocolate.

Soon, you were bopping your head in frenzy, taking in as much of him as you could while your hands attended to his balls to caress them gently, your other hand taking care of what your throat wouldn’t cover. Saliva was dripping down your chin, your delicious moans only fuelling his arousal as the sweet sounds echoed through the room and the vibrations teased his cock even further.

His weak attempt not to thrust wildly into your lovely mouth failed rapidly, hips bucking uncontrollably in a steady but frantic rhythm all the while his hands came up to hold your head in place for his pleasure.

“Norns, I am going to…” His last words were interrupted by an animalistic growl as he came, spilling his seed down your throat. Eagerly, you swallowed all he gave you, suckling on the tip until he was completely empty.

Several seconds passed after you had released him, your lips swollen and pink. Licking over them to devour the remnants of his seed, you only noticed when you shifted on the floor that you had soaked your panties.

Loki looked you directly in the eye. He was hungry. Hungry for more.

“Get on the bed,” he growled darkly, blue eyes fixed on you like a predator. He was still hard. How much Viagra had Tony given him? Usually, an erection disappeared again after climax—very apparently, however, like you had even suspected, this did not seem to be the case for Loki.

Swallowing hard, you remembered your own words. Up to five hours…

Actually, you had no idea what made you obey him. Was it his commanding tone, the stern and aroused expression on his face or your own need for relief and pleasure? In the end, it didn’t matter, not really.

You squeaked when Loki climbed on top of you so fast you had barely time to blink. Greedily, he began to tug at your clothes, staring at them as if there were made of living insects. Clearly, they were in the way. So they had to go.

Without much effort, the God of Mischief simply ripped the fabric off your body, making you whine in response. Those were your favourite pyjamas. Right now, however, you couldn’t care less. Much more important was the outrageously handsome god hovering above you like a hungry wolf, ready to devour its prey—and that he did.

His blue eyes roamed over your now naked body hungrily, devouring each and every curve with his gaze. One of his large hands came up to fondle your breasts, exploring your mounts passionately all the while his other hand travelled down over your stomach, leaving a trail of goose bumps to sneak between your legs.

You whimpered when Loki’s fingers parted your heated flesh and gave your clit a teasing stroke before wandering down to your slit to make sure you were wet enough for his intrusion. Oh and you were positively dripping for him.

The God of Mischief smirked as he withdrew his hand. Effortlessly, he snatched your wrists and pinned them down above your head all the while forcing himself between your legs, his hard cock grazing your folds. With but one firm thrust, he buried himself inside you to the hilt, moaning out loud in the process.

You could only gasp in response. Obviously, with his girth and length, you had not expected any man to be a patch on him, yet when he filled you so fully, deliciously… you felt your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you arched your back, urging him on to fuck you. And with the amount of Viagra cursing through his body… who was he to deny you anyway?

Loki chuckled hoarsely, making you shiver in joyful anticipation. Picking up a quick pace, he began to ram his hard meat into you, over and over until you were ready to burst from all the pleasure. Oh damn… he had officially ruined you for any other man to come after him.

With every single thrust, Loki appeared to hit all of your hidden pleasure spots—pleasure spots you didn’t even know existed. And now, they carried you right towards an earth-shattering orgasm that threatened to take away all of your senses.

Rutting into you relentlessly, he lowered his head to wrap his lips around one of your hardened nipples, nibbling and sucking on them until his name burst from your own lips like a prayer. Your hips came up to meet his thrusts, encouraging him to go even deeper and faster which he happily obliged.

“You… need… to… cum… for… me.” He panted. “Now… Norns… CUM, NOW!”

You felt your walls contracting around him the moment he shot ropes of his seed inside of you, coating the inside of your pussy with his essence. Your orgasm rippled through you like liquid fire, pumping pleasure through your body so intensely you desperately gasped for air. You could feel Loki twitch and pulse inside of you as he released himself, his cum seeping out of you when he pulled out and collapsed on the bed next to you after allowing you both to ride out your orgasms.

Both of you had expected he would not soften as of yet. His erection still stood, proudly, waiting for him to go on and take as much pleasure as was needed to help him make use of all the Viagra in his body.

So he pulled you on top of him, earning him another squeal from you. Your frantic giggling, for you were still high on your climax, stopped the moment he made you sit down on his length to fill you once more.

Only moments after you were bouncing up and down on him for all he was worth, your nails digging into his pale chest.

By the time he was done with you, you both were a sweating and panting mess. Your hair stuck to your moist skin, your cheeks were reddened and your limbs shaking, the bed and your thighs wet with your slick juices.

Seven and a half hours. Seven and a half hours had passed until his aching erection had finally gone away and he could rest, spent and utterly satisfied.

You had begged him for breaks, asked him to slow down. In return, you had brought him pleasure with your hands and mouth to soothe his undying arousal and then, after one last shared orgasm, Loki’s lips came crashing down on yours, his tongue fighting for dominance which you granted him all but willingly. He kissed you so ferociously you knew that not only you had lost control over your body with him but also control over your heart.

You had fallen asleep in his arms fast. Keeping up with a god was exhausting, to say the least. Loki had forced you into countless of orgasms, almost making you lose your mind to him. Well, you were not going to complain.

Loki grinned to himself as he stroked your head lightly with an almost loving gaze. He had set his eyes on you ever since he had arrived at the Avengers compound, one of the very few bearable mortals to be around with. He had to admit, however, he had not known how much he had desired you until you had knelt before him to inspect his rock-hard member.

It mattered not. Now, you were his. If only Stark knew he had actually done him a favour in the end…

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I’d be flattered if you supported me on KoFi! kofi.com/sserpente (or hit the “Support me” button on my blog) ♥

Check out my masterlist for more Loki stories, for Tumblr has been swallowing a lot of my posts lately...

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nouveauweird · 6 years ago

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do you have any recs for learning about screenwriting / how to screenwrite? i'm one of those writers who kind of sees things like a movie and i'm wondering if things would work out better for me with a new medium. thanks in advance!

I hope you’ve got some time to read all of this because it got really frickin’ long.

I was introduced to screenwriting in a Writing Lab in college and followed suit into a Screenwriting IA (Integrative Activity, where students demonstrate what they’ve learned over the course of their studies in the Cinema and Communications program).

So admittedly, most of what I learned was from two teachers who already knew their stuff and worked in the industry. However, I was so interested in pursuing screenwriting once I’d fallen in love with it, that I bought all the “optional” resource books my Screenwriting teacher had recommended.

The Screenwriter’s Manual: A Complete Reference of Format and Style by Stephen E. Bowles, Ronald Mangravite, and Peter A. Zorn Jr. really has the basics for what you need to learn how to get into screenwriting. It is available on Amazon for a range of prices.

I also read significantly through The Screenwriter’s Problem Solver: How to recognize, identify, and define screenwriting problems by Syd Field and to be honest it can actually be useful for any kind of story writer, as I perused it and applied some of its content to a few films I found were really poorly executed.

I own, but have not significantly perused:

Story: Substance, Structure, Style and The Principles of Screenwriting by Robert McKee

My uncle who is a screenwriter recommended highly, I personally haven’t dived in yet because the McKee has a stupid disclaimer about why he chose to use He pronouns to refer to the writer throughout the book which was a bit irritating so I just covered it with a sticky note and let it sit for a while.

Writing Short Films: Structure and Content for Screenwriters by Linda J. Cowgill

*Writing Tools: 55 Essential Strategies for Every Writer by Roy Peter Clark.

*Showing & Telling by Laurie Alberts

*Writing Down the Bones: Freeing the Writer Within by Natalie Goldberg (currently reading)

*Take Off Your Pants! : Outline Your Books for Faster, Better Writing by Libbie Hawker.

* = not screenwriting specific, general writing.

Two other books that come highly recommended by both of my uncles who work in the industry are: Save the Cat by Blake Snyder, and Screenplay: The Foundations of Screenwriting by Syd Field.

Since I didn’t learn this completely on my own, I don’t have many online resources, but a quick google search of “Basic Screenwriting Format” should yield you some decent results. HERE is one I found, which has a few book recommendations in it as well. Airtable has resources for screenwriting as well but I am not as familiar with it, search “screenwriting” in the template section.

Here’s what I can recommend right off the bat, sign up for Celtx. It has free and paid subscription services, and you can keep 3 projects on your account at a time, but you can also just download them as PDF’s to free up space and reupload them later and the format will be in tact. Scrivener also has a screenwriting word processor, but it’s a (one time) paid program.

There are many other word processors for screenwriting, but the best for beginners is Celtx. Most processors these days do the formatting for you, unlike 10-20+ years ago when you had to figure that shit out yourself. All you have to do is get familiar with where everything goes.

Which brings me to the next part of my answer…

A Screenwriting Crash Course

For a whole fucking load more of information, look under the cut.

First and foremost, I think it’s important to understand that the narrative description / action / description (all terms used interchangeably) is written in present tense 3rd person, and that you should focus on describing exclusively on what can be SEEN and HEARD. You should also try to be as concise and brief as possible. I found this was quite freeing because while I do love the metaphorical descriptions in prose, screenwriting is a very snappy and visual medium to write in.

Another thing to understand is that beyond learning the basic formatting rules of screenwriting, you can pretty much bullshit formatting you’re not sure about. I’ve read many screenplays where certain elements were not consistent, such as whether or not the writer chooses to put their characters’ names in CAPS every single time (you should at least do so when the character is first introduced).

It’s actually really easy to find scripts of your favourite films online with a quick google search, it might take practice but I’ve managed to build a decent collection of screenplays that I like to read and get an eye for certain formatting tricks that won’t be in a “how to” book. Screenplays also read very quickly. There’s a general rule of 1:1 for page:minute, meaning 1 page is usually equal to one minute of screen time, and if not, it usually averages out.

I’m going to pull some quotes from The Screenwriter’s Manual to give you a bit of an idea of where you can start: pg 25 - 44, 49 - 63

You can find photos of the table of contents HERE if you’d like to message me directly with specific questions, I’d be happy to send you photos of the section you want.

The Staging

The first component in the scene line [or slug line] provides the most basic information about the set-up for the scene.

The staging is ALWAYS abbreviated and followed by a period. There are only two choices for a scene:

INT. for an interior set, informing the reader that the scene takes place in an inside environment

EXT. for an exterior set, specifying an outside environment.

1. The Location

The second component in the scene line is the location in which the scene takes place.

The location follows the INT. or EXT. designation and is separated from it by two character spaces [most screenwriting processors will do this automatically].

Do not abbreviate any words in the location component of the scene line. For example,

INT. APARTMENT is correct, and INT. APT. is incorrect.

VERY IMPORTANT

It is absolutely essential that every specific location be distinguished from every other location.

If Joe lives in an apartment, then you can call that location INT. APARTMENT But if, in the same screenplay, Bob also has an apartment you can no longer use INT. APARTMENT as a location for Bob’s apartment.

To eliminate confusion, one solution is to call each apartment location by the resident’s name: INT. JOE’S APARTMENT and INT. BOB’S APARTMENT

Once a specific location has been identified in the scene line, all subsequent scenes taking place in that location MUST be identified in exactly the same way.

FIRST NOTE:

The location identifies where the activity and dialogue take place…

… if John lives in a multi-room apartment and John is currently in his bedroom (so that other rooms are concealed from view), then the scene line must read, INT. JOHN’S BEDROOM or INT. JOHN’S APARTMENT, BEDROOM

[If the action moves from one location to another there are different ways to indicate it; one would be to created a new scene line to indicate the new location, or to indicate the new location in the description like “John walks out of his bedroom and into the LIVING ROOM”. ]

…

FOURTH NOTE

A scene line can take either of two common variations:

Most often, the scene line will define a specific location, such as INT. JOHN’S LIVING ROOM which limits the field of view to the area where the “camera” is placed.

If the scene takes place in a more generalized location, you can write it as an open scene, such as EXT. COLLEGE CAMPUS … By identifying the scene in a generalized way, you are indicating that it is not important to your narrative to identify precisely where on the campus this scene takes place.

THE TIME

The third component of the scene line indicates the general time at which the scene begins.

The time follows the location and is separated from it by a character space, then a dash, and then another character space.

[ example: INT. JOHN’S HOUSE, ATTIC - DAY ]

The time component of the scene line is most typically specified as a simple DAY or NIGHT. However, the time component can define a more precise period of the day or night. For example, DAWN, MORNING, AFTERNOON, RUSH HOUR, etc.

… You CANNOT specify an exact time, such as 3:30 PM, in the scene line. If such a specific time is required, you need to [include it in your description]…

When there is no lapse of time from one scene to the next, the time element in the scene line could simply be, CONTINUOUS. … if the time lapse is very brief, then you could use something like, MOMENTS LATER, A FEW MINUTES LAYER

AN EXEMPTION:

If a scene takes place in a location in which there is no way to gauge the visible time (DAY or NIGHT), then that element is omitted from the scene line.

ADDING SPECIFICS TO THE SCENE LINE

IDENTIFYING HISTORICAL PERIOD

[example EXT. PARIS, FRANCE - DAY (1946)

EXT. CHICAGO, ILLINOIS - DAY (1920′s)]

INDICATING A MOBILE SITUATION

If a scene opens with a moving vehicle within the location, then that can be indicated in the scene line. For example… INT. JOHN’S CAR - DAY (MOVING)

2. ACTION or [DESCRIPTION]

Description imparts the necessary detail to the essentials of the scene, describing such features as the characters, sets, props, and any necessary action and sound cues.

It is generally best to keep the level of detail focused on the actions and dialogue that comprise the narrative. That is where your attention and the reader’s interest should be directed.

By describing the particular props and decor in a scene and how each character dresses or grooms, you can suggest such character information as personality type, emotional condition, religious affiliation, economic level, artistic taste, and for forth.

First, establish the scene, describing only what is visually apparent in the location and giving only as much detail as necessary.

You cannot describe anything that cannot be seen… until they have been revealed.

You do not need to itemize things that are generic and would ordinarily be present, such as furnishings, colours, arrangements, [etc]…

However you MUST specify anything that is unusual or essential to the scene.

[ My uncle imparted me with a great tip; screenwriting doesn’t maintain traditional prose rules about paragraphs. You should try to keep your descriptions a maximum of four lines, and feel free to break them up into one-line or even one-word for emphasis.]

…

VERY IMPORTANT:

You can only convey what is happening at the moment… [No what has happened or what will happen].

You CANNOT provide any biographical, psychological, or situational information [about your characters] unless you can find visual means to do so (such as a newspaper article, a television program, [etc.])…

INTRODUCING CHARACTERS

Each character must be introduced in the description the first time [they] physically appear in the screenplay. This includes not only major characters, but also supporting characters and even minor characters and groups that function as characters.

NAMING CHARACTERS

When a character is introduced, [their] name is ALWAYS typed in ALL CAPS regardless of whether the character is identified by a proper name, a profession, or an appearance… EVANS, AGENT ONE, DERELICT…

Once a character has been introduced, all subsequent references to that character’s name in the description should be written in a normal manner with initial caps… Evans, Agent One, Derelict…

DESCRIBING CHARACTERS

As the screenwriter, you know who is a major character and who is a supporting or minor character because you have the entire story in your mind. The reader, however, is in a different situation.

… The amount of detail you provide about a character’s appearance and demeanor will give the reader a key to that character’s important in the script.

As a guide, when characters are introduced, you need to make clear how important each is going to be by tailoring the description and context accordingly.

[ You should describe their appearance and what they are doing when you introduce your characters. There are many different formats to describe a character when you are introducing them, and none of them are the hard and fast rule, you will probably end up settling for your own preferred method].

WARREN EVANS, late twenties, intense, handsome with closely cropped hair and a neatly trimmed moustache, is working with cool precision at one of the hundreds of banks of wiring terminals. he is dressed in coveralls and wearing thin latex gloves.

A VARIATION:

A character’s age can also be assigned a numerical designation, such as…

WARREN EVANS (late 20s), ruggedly handsome, dressed in…

Seated at the table is CINDY LEWIS, late 20s and very attractive…

[ Generally you should only mention eye colour, skin colour, height, weight, hair style/colour if it is relevant to the narrative. ]

WORDS THAT GET CAPPED

In addition to using CAPS to introduce characters in the description, there are established conventions for other elements that need to be typed in CAPS but only if they affect the narrative…

Those elements include:

all essential costumes, props and decorany important action, effects, or emphasisany required music or sounds

Although some of the following instances require CAPPING, many will be judgement decisions.

FIRST NOTE:

You CANNOT identify every costume, prop, or decor on the set. Ordinary objects that have no special significance to the narrative should be left [ in normal text].

SECOND NOTE:

… if a certain prop is important to the story, you should CAP it when it first appears, regardless of whether it is important to that particular scene.

WHEN TO CAP AND WHEN NOT TO CAP

CAPPED words can be effective only if they are used sparingly and appropriately, if CAPPED words are used too frequently, their significance will be lost.

3. THE DIALOGUE-BLOCK

The dialogue element, [also] called the dialogue-block, of the screenplay format consists of three components:

the character-name specifies which character is speaking…the dialogue reveals what is being said by that charactera parenthetical, when necessary, instructs [or indicated an element of] how or to whom the character [is speaking]. EVANS (to the group) Sorry I’m late. This round’s on me.

GENERAL RULES

ALWAYS contains the character-name and dialogue, and it MAY, if helpful, also contain parentheticals.is ALWAYS single spaced with no blank lines that internally separate the individual componentsis ALWAYS preceded and followed by a single blank line

[ Parentheticals should not be used too often, you should be attempting to provide context for how the character is delivering their line in the description by providing adequate mood/intensity/emotion.]

CHARACTER NAMES

A character-name is the designation used for the speaker…

… Once a character-name has been established, you MUST consistently use that name from that character.

For example, if you’ve introduced the character as COLIN PRYCE in the description, then you will probably want to use the designation COLIN or PRYCE in the dialogue-block.

DIALOGUE

Everything that the actor speaks that is heard by the audience is dialogue.

[Dialogue] is ALWAYS written in basic prose with initial caps and proper punctuation.

EMPHASIS IN DIALOGUE

To emphasize a particular word or phrase you should underline it.

OFF-SCREEN or VOICE-OVER CUES

[ Off-screen: when a character is not physically present in the scene peaks from a nearby location, close enough that they could enter the scene. Such a character might be speaking from a room out of view or from behind a concealed area.

Voice-over: (1) a voice heard from a mechanical device such as a telephone, radio, intercom, tape recorder, answering machine, walkie-talkie, etc. (2) The voice of a narrator, which is required when the dialogue is spoken by an unseen narrator. (3) The thoughts of a character, applied when a character is visually present and what is heard are their thoughts.

Usually, a character who is speaking dialogue is visually present within the scene. However, there are two important exceptions: off-screen and voice-over.

The off-screen (O.S.) and voice-over (V.O.) cues

- ALWAYS follow the character-name on the same line- are ALWAYS enclosed in parentheses- are ALWAYS abbreviated in upper case.

PARENTHETICALS

Parentheticals are a convenient device to convey specific information about how the dialogue is being said…

[Parentheticals] are ALWAYS enclosed by parentheses… are restricted to words, phrases, and fragments… ALWAYS apply to the dialogue that immediately follows it.

Parentheticals need to be concise and direct, indicating such brief information such as:

- to whom the character is speaking (to John), (into phone), (to himself)- a particular gesture or mannerism(raising his glass), (looking at her watch)- how the dialogue is being spoken(angrily), (coughing), (softly), (thick ____ accent)

WRITING PARENTHETICALS

Because parentheticals are limited to words and phrases, they [should always be written in lowercase and with no punctuation, for example:

(loudly)

No more than two directions should be included in any parenthetical. If two directions appear they should be separated by a semi-colon:

(to the class; loudly)

THREE SPECIAL CASES

- a (beat)- a (pause)- an (interrupting)

[A (beat) indicates a change of thought, suggests a moment of indecision, or conveys a dramatic effect.

A (pause) signifies that a break in the dialogue occurs. This is most often used in phone conversations.

An (interruption) indicates that the dialogue begun be the previous speaker is being interrupted by the current character (there are a few different ways you can format this). ]

I won’t go any further than this because this is already extremely long, but ultimately I invite you to take a look at some of the scripts (here and here) I’ve written and doctored as an amateur screenwriter as well as digging up your own favourite movie scripts which will give you a good idea of how to implements what formatting.

#anon asks.#answered asks.#writeblr #am writing #screenwriting #resources.#writing advice.#on screenwriting.#long post.#my resources.

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9uk · 6 years ago

Text

Where Are You?

⌲ summary : Kim Taehyung. That is the name of a nobody in school constantly carrying a camera around with him. Also, the name belonging to the guy who carried your last words

⌲ pairing : thirdeye!taehyung x reader

⌲ word count : 10k

⌲ genre: pinch of fluff, heavy angst

⌲ warnings : themes of depression, suicide, self-harm and paranormal activities. character death. taehyung can see ghosts that is.

⌲ a/n: this is quite different from what i usually write but i just needed to get the plot that has been bothering my head for months out of me. nonetheless, enjoy & feedback is always welcomed.

The way life works is a true wonder.

Expect the unexpected, predict the unpredictable. It's all bound to happen one day, at a certain point of time in our very lives. You just have to catch that split moment, the millisecond on the dot—where a mini twist in your words or actions can bring about a very drastic change. It can be a tiny alteration that causes the downfall or rise of a situation. The choices we make for ourselves or others, is very much alike to a heavy dew sliding off a leaf and carelessly falling into stagnant water. The mini waves of the impact send the lily pads nearby dancing, a floating hibiscus petal to drift further into the unknown and push a sleeping fish a centimetre away from entering the opening of a heron's beak. It's the butterfly effect, minuscule yet major. Be it a coincidence or some cruel twisted joke god decided to play on you—you solemnly swear you heard a voice of another being in this house. A house you were supposedly alone in. It could be the cannibal. There is more than a fair share of emphasis placed on 'supposedly' because at this very moment, you are certain as heck that you are not the only one in here. Here being the old crooked house that sits alone by the edge of the second highest hill in town, standing obstinate to the ground despite the occasional flooding showers and hurricanes your region suffered. The old folks claim that the house belongs to a war veteran whose entire family starved while waiting for their sole bread-winner to come home. The man never made it back to his doorstep where his three children and spouse awaits, hope draining with every growl of their stomachs and in complete oblivion to the impending fall to the grave. Every so often, the family of five could be sighted behind the murky windows. However, there are also mediums who concluded from ridiculous superstitions and calculations of the house's location that a possible dead body could still be inside, and its vengeful spirit is bent on seeking retribution for the plain injustice of their murder. Depressed souls would see it as the way to the end, Blank minds and torn hearts enter the house with nothing but one wish—death. The number of suicides that occurred in the house is a little over a hundred—one hundred and three spirits to be exact, nothing more, nothing less—loitering within its four walls. There were instances of teenagers stepping foot into the forbidden site with hopeful hearts for a thrill and a video camera in hand, seeking for juicy content to gain views and be the first to break the belief — the bunch of kids were reported missing on the news a few hours after. The statistics are somewhat the building blocks to the infamous reputation it holds today. When the police went inside to search for the families' missing loved ones, it did not work out at all. In fact, the number rebelliously increased, the police force losing yet another one of their colleagues.

That's when they decided that everyone is prohibited to enter, unless they carried a death wish. It is almost like the Suicide Forest in Japan, tarnishing those who visit with a conflicted soul. Even the authorities chose to not touch the house, claiming it was still on a long-term lease. And under whose name?

They would never reveal.

The house became something everyone refuses to lay finger on, or even talk about. The ominousness it contained drove humans miles away, like a sleeping dragon not wanting to be bothered the slightest bit. It's almost like a door to a parallel universe or something. You did your homework regarding the possessed piece of property. The internet's local ghostbuster website shares more about the rumours circulating the house.

You can't escape once you make it through the two front doors. This is as clear as day already, the number of missing bodies serving as solid evidence. Questions however, still bugged at your mind.

Why exactly is that? Were all the window sills locked? Or is the door just created to be one-way? Sometimes people are so caught up with their fantasies that they forget to look at things more logically.

A cannibal was living inside. This is just a mere speculation, but it was not impossible. It seemed like the most rational explanation one could provide to the disappearance of people. Leftover bones can be easily cremated, destroying all traces of the deceased. But you had rather resort to jumping off a cliff or simply overdosing to kill yourself—than to ferociously be feasted on by your own kind.

It was some kind of portal to another world. Although these kind of things were not scientifically proven, it was still a valid suspicion because nothing ever made sense about that creepy house. Maybe people went in and get sucked into another dimension or flung into hell. Maybe the books were right. As well as the shows and movies on television. Everybody was afraid, of what the gaunt and creaky relic held between its paint-flaked walls and dirt-smeared window panes, why people went in and never got out, why citizens were constantly missing—but the discovery couldn't be anything more valuable than a life. But you clearly cared a whole lot about yours, because you are not even batting a lash when you tell your friends that you were going to check the cursed place out. All you receive is the dropping of jaws and the heavy pleas for you to not go, because apparently ten years ago a man as bold as you executed the similar plan you had and- "Guess what Y/N," Woo-gi leaned across the table, the bowl of mashed potatoes shifting forward a little. "He died. Unnatural cause of death. His body was never found and the saddest thing is that the family couldn't even give him a proper burial or send him away in peace." Her attempted blazing eyes fixes on yours, and her fingers creep to the knife resting on the surface of the table cloth.

Woo-gi is making the best efforts to get you to empathise with the family of the deceased man, knowing that trick works perfect on your soft putty heart. Lifting the cutlery up, she brings it down and mercilessly stabs into the piece of char-grilled pork chop for effect. There is a shredding sound of the piece of meat being torn apart by your dear pal. The vegetables at the side jump up in shock. "Gone. Just like that."

Her voice is a cold, menacing one which intended effect worked perfectly on your rather timid self, the bumps on your skin appearing unwillingly.

Her gaze finally drifts to the dish plate and leaves yours, allowing you to ponder over her words. In her final attempt to scare you out of the hasty decision, you only chew on your corn salad nonchalantly. She was right, it was a deadly risk but you wished you treasured your life as much as a normal person would. You didn't have any care in the world, dead or alive. So why not make the reason of your death be 'died exploring a haunted house', how cool and mysterious would that be on the headlines? "Sounds like a dream come true for me," You sweep the coleslaw you have no interest in to one side, isolated from the rest of the dish. Gone forever, just like that? You have been spending the past few years of your life sinking into the mattress and hoping the blankets would swallow you whole and cease your existence—what made her think that you would be afraid of something like that? Then you realise that your friends have no clue about your disorder. In fact, no one did. In their eyes, you were this outgoing girl who cracked plenty of jokes and lived with a happy family. At times, you would go overboard with your imagination but that's something people who felt constrained and suffocated often possess. Their stale life is the cause of their fantasies and aspirations running too wild.

But nobody would understand. She shakes her head and sighs, exasperated. It was like there were no words in the dictionary that can come together to bandage the open wound in your heart, or get rid of the black sticky substance bugging your insides since day one—even as a close friend, the most she can do is to pray for the best for you. No one can really help you out of this sunken pit, the route is yours to take.

"I'm telling you one last time," Woo-gi lunges forward to grab both of your hands, eyes glistening with worry, trying yet again, her utmost best to stop you in your dangerous expedition. For the last time. "Don't go."

Life works in mysterious ways, and you're the kind of person who would stubbornly step on a freshly mopped floor and try walk across it despite having a bright yellow caution sign shoved in your face. Maybe this would be the turning point in your life. A life which encompasses of...well, nothing much. The world's too tiring of a place to live in. And that is also why, you are in said haunted house, face to face with an unexpected human being. "Hey," Every drop of blood in your body freezes. It's the first thing you hear before a piercing scream leaves your chest, rattling the window panes. The sudden call startles the shit out of the shivering mess you were, your body jumping backwards out of reflex. You shun away from the piercing light being aimed straight into your eyes, arms coming up to block the sudden encounter. Cannibal? Cannibal! You shrieked and jumped back further upon realisation, making a beeline for the doors. Both feet took you there as fast as they could, the wooden planks beneath your heavy stomps threatening to snap. Except when you reach for the handle, the first rumour is proven to be true. The doors wouldn't budge. You shake them with all your might, only left with creaks and a stubborn obstruction to your fleeing. Your heart pounds wildly against your chest, with the knowledge that the monster is a few feet away from your panic-stricken form. "Just give up." The low voice appears behind you, the hairs on your back shooting up and your hands frozen. Why were you even so afraid? You wanted to die anyways. Nothing is able to coherently come out of your parched throat, only able to quiver in fear. "Do I really look that ugly?" The tone is derisive, so human-like and you think you may have overreacted. Whipping around, you are only met with bright white as a beam of light is pointed directly to your face. You may have been mistaken. But that doesn't stop you from feeling threatened. "Put that away." You commanded and once the shining path of white is directed to the ground, your hands slowly descend from shielding your face. "Kim Taehyung?" "Y/F/N?" The both of you speak out in unison upon the recognition, despite the low lighting playing as an obstacle. It was dark, but you can almost make out the look of shock on his face as he takes a moment to register your existence right in front of him. As for you, relief overwhelmed the surprise you felt and for once, you were thankful to see Kim Taehyung. A fair bit of questions were going through your mind now, and your heart was close to jumping out of your mouth any time soon. But somehow you managed to stay relatively calm.

As long as Taehyung was standing there, looking at you with a face of confusion, you wanted to end your life faster to escape the interaction with this guy. Or to explain what in the world you were doing in a horrid place like here. God wouldn't let you die in peace, he had to let you bump into Taehyung minutes or hours—nobody knows—before your anticipated death. The only thing going through your mind is how you have to explain why you were inside the most forbidden house in town. Then, another thought flickers in your mind. What was he doing here then? It couldn't be... For some reason, he stands there, still astounded by your presence. Wait no, it had nothing to do with your presence. It was you. Just like how having a guest in here came off as no surprise to him, but the fact that it was you... You feel like you rendered him speechless, disbelief widening his eyes and parting his lips. He was acting strange. Just a few moments ago, he was telling you so confidently about the fate of the doors and now there was a 180 degree change in his vibe. He kept staring at you, the moonlight flaunting a light shimmer to his black orbs and you felt queasy under his relentless gaze—like he held some sort of power over your empty soul. You couldn't decipher just what is it in his eyes, your head hurt as you tried to think.

It was never the same case in school though. While you exuded an aura of confidence wherever you walked, leaving a trail of your floral scented shampoo and fruity perfume, Taehyung would keep his head low and try to blend in with the shadows. He didn't smell like anything, nor did he frequently speak.

To his pals, at the very least. The moment you hear the name Kim Taehyung, the first word that comes to mind is eccentric. You weren't exactly someone to judge people in this manner, but you know him barely—only to the extent where you can only think of an adjective like that to describe him. You've seen him more than a couple of times around in school—always carrying a vintage camera around—but have never spoken a word to him. For an obvious reason, he was located in the best class—the one where the top students are—while you are in just another average class.

He was just another schoolmate to you. The both of you have never interacted during your whole journey in high school, except for that one time. However, you have only heard things about him. Unpleasant things that make your blood boil a little, because you feel like everyone should be treated equally no matter the circumstance.

One would say, "Kim Taehyung? You mean the guy who sits in the garden for an hour after school, waiting for a butterfly to land on his pinky finger? I mean, who even does that?"

Another would comment, "He's constantly talking to himself and his polaroid films, if that is even possible. Other than that, he either talks to flowers or trees. Sometimes, he eats by himself and then he raises his spoonful of rice to feed the person sitting opposite him—only that there isn't anyone there. Some girls screamed and ran away, even their boyfriends were scared of such a person. That is mainly why they didn't do anything bad to him.”

You didn’t have much thoughts about the guy, but you admired how he could be himself without the fear of being excluded from the norms of this society. He could find the comfort in being alone, and that was the type of peace you wish you possessed.

That one day, things blew out of proportion. It was a normal Tuesday, nothing extraordinary but school and sleep. You were seated with your usual group of friends during lunch, when suddenly a yell breaks through the canteen, followed by several laughters induced with pure evil. Almost the entire cohort turns to the infamous corner—just a small turn into the back kitchen where the trash is taken out by the vendors—the place where many students are dragged in there and come out with a blue black to the eye and nasty purple patches all over their limbs.

The whole cafeteria slowly fills with hushed whispers and serious gossiping, heads turning to one another unable to drop the topic for now. Yoongi walks out from the corner, followed by a few of his friends of a milksop. Wussies, you silently remark on their terribly feigned outer strength and masks of bravery. Nothing but imbeciles, you curse them in your head. Yoongi and weaklings plop right next to you, the eyes from the surrounding tables discreetly catching up on the interaction between the both of you. "Y/N! You look gorgeous today." He tries to place his hand onto your waist but you quickly shun away from him. The small action itself caused the whole canteen to blanketed with silence, every pair of eyes now focusing on the drama that was about to unfold between the notorious gangster and his proclaimed girl. "Don't fucking touch me you disgusting piece of shit." You have had enough. The menacing words seem to pierce through every wall in the school, every person at the scene being informed of your opinion towards Yoongi all this while. You stand up, pointing a finger of accusation directly at his face—to which he flinches at, caught off-guard by your swift movement. If you had the opportunity to get away with it, you would have dug your nails into his eyeballs and gouge them out of his eye sockets, then feed one each to the weaklings by his side. Instead, you take a deep breath. Small gasps leave everyone's lips and he panics—ego bruised by your harsh rejection. Yoongi was your boyfriend. You've been tolerating him for quite some time now, all for the sake of your parents. Without this relationship, your dad would have never been able to clinch the business deal with his father. All it took was a couple of sweet phrases and fake smiles, you couldn't be bothered with the rest of him other than the profit he could bring to your company. Yoongi on the other hand, seems to interpret the relationship in a very different way. He seems to have grown fond of you and naively believed that love between the two of you is real. You never put a single thought or effort into the relationship with Yoongi, not wanting to mislead him any further but some guys just can't seem to get the message, despite the many obvious hints you've dropped. You never ask him out.

Or when he does, you would only politely decline. In school, most of the time you stick like glue to your friends and try to avoid him and his rambunctious clique at all costs. Your dear friends took empathy in you and helped you out of certain situations concerning Yoongi at times. Somehow your boyfriend's pleasant way of proving his worth was to step on the backs of people who seemed inferior to him to climb his own ladder of pride.

It was like after each time he nailed someone to the ground and kicked their guts out, Yoongi feels like he reached another level of achievement. It's sickening to the thought and you want to have nothing got to do with that narcissistic asshole. This behaviour of his begin not too long ago, a few days prior when he marked his first victim. You were puzzled, but you didn't probe. He bullies physically and mentally, using their screams and pleas to feed his ego and push himself higher up the ladder. He started torturing anyone who ticks him off or come in his way to no end, and you think you may just be next albeit being his supposed girlfriend.

The conduct only made you despise him even more. Come to the thought of it, the things you do for your parents include self-depreciation and the loss of any shame left in your skin. You can feel the anger slowly twisting in his veins, radiating off his now clenched fists. Contrary to his untamed anger building within him, his friends are slowly retreating from his side, trembling in fear at your spit of acid. You chuckled, almost despicably—both at the cowering of his tough underlings and the way he almost peed his pants at the mere fling of your index finger. He realises that you are mocking his fragility and there are a couple of muffled giggles ignited in the crowd—his temper starts to get the better of his mind as the emasculation finally dawns over him. Before he can lay a finger on you, you are already a step ahead of him—grabbing the cup of hot tea off the table and splashing the boiling liquid onto his uniform, scalding his body. You thought you had might as well went all out in punishing a rascal like him. Your friends reach for your arm, trying to hold you back from going any further in dealing with the jerk and you throw the cup onto the ground, causing it to shatter into fragments—the sound of the porcelain splitting and cracking into pieces haphazardly rings through their ears. You'd like to refer it as a clear warning to everybody witnessing the event—to simply not mess with you.

You wished to be left alone.

While he screams in agony at the possible second-degree burn, you waltz away from the commotion nonchalantly. You think that that scumbag ought to have a taste of his own medicine someday, and if no one else dare stuff it down his throat, you would more than gladly do so. You find yourself striding off—to the hidden corner behind the stalls. And there, you discovered the bloodied body of Taehyung. With a broken camera by his side. A boy like him deserved more than this, no human should ever be hurt as badly as this—especially for no reason at all but one's inability to control their emotions, and the poor decision to vent it out on others can make horrible things happen. You kneel down by his side, checking the wounds inflicted on him. Fishing out a packet of tissues you always keep in your pocket for emergencies, you wipe the blood stains off his abused skin. He's in too much pain to express his surprise at your assistance, grunting as you pressed the tissue against the wound. When the bleeding on a certain cut has stopped, you offer him the support of your arm to let him sit up straight. Taehyung holds onto your forearm and pulls himself up from the ground. He groans as he does so, his back clad with bruises and soreness.

You noticed that he was stunned into a daze, probably at the grasp of realisation that someone was actually helping him. But you ignored his feelings, just shifted your attention fully onto the fixing of his injury. You recall having a plaster tucked away in your purse and you quickly take it out as well, secretly laughing at its design—hot pink with Hello Kitty.

Taehyung doesn't miss the sound of light escaping your lips, and he himself bites down on his lip to hold back a chortle at the girlish visual of the bandaid—temporarily pushing the questions behind your intentions away. You actually felt glad you could bring a smile to his face with something like the childish print of a bandaid. Nonetheless, you peel it off and gently place it over the deep cut on his forearm as he tries to control his wincing. "Hey, it's alright. You can cry out for all you want," You smoothed the plaster flat and tight on his skin. When you lightly slap the face of the Hello Kitty to tease him, he lets out a yelp—something that sounds puzzlingly adorable coming from him. "Here, have this." You fish out a piece of candy from the other side of pocket, handing it over you the victim. The amount of surprise he shows never ceases. You let out a short laugh, "I know you're not a kid, but still..." You smile up at him. "Just take it as a form of apology for what I caused you to go through." Taehyung doesn't move a muscle, just sillily blinking at your actions. You take his hand and shove the sweet into his palm, closing his fingers around it.

For a brief moment, both your eyes meet.

There is an unexplainable exchange of thoughts running through each other's minds and it was close to feeling like the two of you shared something in common. Taehyung was ostracised in school and probably the life he had out there judging by his abstruse personality and unfathomable behaviour. He was a prisoner out here in the real world.

Freedom, but yet he can't truly express himself without being placed behind bars in the eyes of others.

You are guilty of doing so in the past, when he was nothing but a lingering, mystifying shadow that held no importance in your life. That's exactly what you did to him—judge and rule him out of the ordinary. All you feel for him is sympathy, and that isn't anywhere better than the culprits themselves if you weren't about to step out and lend him a helping hand. Regret washes over your system as his dark pupils venture into your soul.

You were not as innocent as others perceive you to be. Bystanders were the invisible strokes of support to the metal bars that locked him up. His hand, although held by you, was trying to cling onto your grasp and not wanting you to leave. You would consider yourself a lucky chap indeed, having born into this world with food and shelter, kin and kith. In fact, rather luckier than the rest to be able to own what you like and not solely what you need. Above all of the materials your parents could afford, you were trapped in incongruity of being a prisoner of your own. You didn't know what you were passionate about in life, and to live without passion is akin to being dead. You just did well in your studies because the society deems that degree certificate as a strong foundation in your job. But you truly did not know if you really enjoyed burning the midnight oil to continuously mug or if the elation of attaining a perfect score on your assessment is pure, or just for the sake of your insatiable parents. Education is key. Well definitely, to a certain extent and you have witnessed how far your own set of parents are willing to go as long as you achieved soaring colours of distinction.

Sleepless nights, wandering mind and a stagnant heart. Sometimes the urge to pretend to be ill to escape the torment of school. Sometimes the subconscious act of bringing the kitchen scissors to your wrist and slit... You want to collapse to the ground and never be able to wake up again. You wished a drunk driver would accidentally run you over and end everything for you. Then nobody would know about how tired you were of this pointless life. You were a prisoner of yourself too. With no doubt, you and Taehyung are definitely similar in many ways the world can't see. "See you...soon, I guess." A soft chuckle emits from you like that happening would be a miracle, but the expression does not reach your eyes. Your eyes that were blocked by a wall of defence to your vulnerability of an emptiness. She is broken. A whisper goes by his ear. She needs help. The raspy voice travelled to his other ear, making him shiver slightly but unnoticeably. Taehyung could feel it too but he was in no place to ask about your wellbeing. He could only stare and wonder. The eye contact was broken off, before your hand recedes from his, carefully. He catches the way a faint smile ghost on your features as quickly as it appeared. A bittersweet kind of happiness. But he doesn't say a word, even after your figure grows smaller with every step you take back to class. What you missed, is the shutter of the camera lens, floating in the air. "Hey, don't touch that!" He snatches the device back and winces at the stretch he feels in his back muscle.

"Y/N." The wooden planks beneath him cursed out loud, warning sirens of his voice turning stern. Besides his low voice and creaks of weak wood and nails, there is only a dripping sound from some leaking pipe. "What are you doing here?!" It is the second time he has raised the question to you, but you only keep silent, eyes searching the room for answers.

Why hadn't you disappeared or get eaten by some ferocious beast yet? Taehyung was only complicating your attempt of suicide. You tried to keep your head clear when you first pushed the rusty front door open, disallowing the memories to flow into your mind.

It was a blockage to all forms of happiness in your life, to prevent your pathetic self from backing out. But Taehyung, an actual human being, catching you in the act of wanting to kill yourself just shot a dose of reality into your numbing heart and racing thoughts.

"Uh..." You wet your lips.

"What about you? What are you doing here?" You turn the cameras back to him. It would not be shocking if he came here to take his life as well. Taehyung purses his lips in serious contemplation before candidly answering. "I can see ghosts," He looks down like it was something to be ashamed about.

That wasn't the case for you. You were completely taken aback by his confession but you found it extremely intriguing. "Oh—Wait what?" One thing about the revelation was that it for sure explained a lot about the way Taehyung acts. You trust his words, but you don't know how to link it to the fact that he was standing right in front of you in the living room of this damned house. Raising a brow at him, you wish for him to elaborate further. "I uh, heard r-rumours circulating around in school, that uh," He pinches his brows.

"You were going to come in here. So I kind of decided to see if it was true." You were amazed by his candidness.

"And it is." You mused.

It was heartwarming to see that someone actually bothered to risk their life to come look for you. Then again, Taehyung is a guy filled with secrets. God knows, but maybe he is the owner of this house. When his eyes capture yours for one more time, it drowned you into the whirlpool of emotions he was feeling.

Something like denial, frustration and lastly, regret. The eye contact is never broken. Like Taehyung was staring so hard at you to try and figure the different parts of you out, to evaluate every inch of you and you squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze. "Why are you looking at me like that?" You croaked out, beginning to feel very creeped out despite the tinge of softness laced in his eyes. "You—Urm, you—! Argh!" He only hesitates even more, turning into a stuttering mess. You jump back in surprise at his reaction. Lost and confused as to how to provide you with a suitable reply, he yells and pulls at his locks of hair. It was when he proceeds to fall to the ground on his knees and seemingly begin whimpering into his palms, all surprise turned into worry for the guy. You kneeled down and called out to him. "Shit—Taehyung!"

"What do you seek, young man?" "Your whole point here is to know and advice me." Taehyung bites back. "Very well. An unsolved mystery, something concerning a girl and regarding the old house just down the street." He shuffles his cards and keep them away neatly. It seemed like those tools will not be of any use to Taehyung, and he clearly understood why the man's face have fallen drastically—it isn't a simple case a few cards can crack. You were not only beautiful, you were inculcated with kindness, you held a type of pureness lost by many as they grow up, you spoke in a manner that is highly respectable and the crowfeet that form at the side of your eyes whenever you laughed too hard couldn't get any more adorable. He shifts uncomfortably on the hard wooden seat, and gulps anxiously. "Was her body found?" Taehyung doesn't know.

He doesn't know where the hell you went or what the fuck you were doing, he only knows that when his eyes flew open, he felt the cold of the night stinging on his skin and an empty space next to him. You were no longer in his arms and the next moment he is springing up from the worn out couch and beginning his search for you. He looked every nook and cranny of the house for you but to no avail. The only resort left got him sitting across a renown psychic. But even the expertise in this region seems to find this case uncrackable. "No." He tilts his head, bringing out a rock of some sort. Taehyung sees it as a mere rock but not to him apparently. "This is the Magic Stone." His fingers fidget around with the purple coloured object. He does this continuously, causing Taehyung to perk an eyebrow up at his claim. The psychic burrows into deep concentration, a conclusion forming in his head. Then, all movement ceases. "Her soul has to bring you there herself."

The medium's advice sounded strained, like it was the hardest thing to come to a conclusion like that. It's a clear excuse when he says the reason of those teardrops rolling down his cheeks are caused by the wind.

You want to reach out and pat him on the back in hopes of alleviating his pain but you quickly retract it back as the muffled sobs through his fingers grow even louder. All you could wonder at that point in time was whether something bad was happening to Taehyung. Maybe the demons in this house were taking him away first.

Maybe he is really going to die. Then, with every drop of care drained from your exhausted body, you placed your hand on his clothed back with a strong determination to do your best and ease him (into the underworld most likely) without any pain. "Are you okay?" Only for his cries to stop abruptly when he feels your hand smoothing over his back. Hastily, Taehyung removes his hands from his face and turns around to look at you. His eyes were red and swollen from all the desperate weeping, saliva of sorrow pooled in his mouth as he watches you with a kind of anguish and concern. It mirrored the look you gave him when you saw him lying on the ground, beaten up. This is where the two of you are similar.

Prisoners, but of two entirely different reasons. You drifted your gaze to his elbow and notice the striking dash of pink. The band aid still being there was what solidified the certainty that this was all real. This wasn't some kind of twisted dream. And that would only mean one thing. Because your hand did not manage to rub his back, for the paleness casting over it only sank into his body, deep into his spine—only for his body to be in one piece as you fast to recede it like you had just touched a strong flame—unable to feel anything touching your palm even when you made that physical contact with him. "Taehyung... why..." You inspect your hands carefully. Your skin was never this white. All the hairs on your forearm had disappeared as well, your whole body lacking any hint of life. It felt surreal. Like something that would only occur in dreams.

"Why can't I touch you?" Maybe if you try pinching yourself, you would wake up. Maybe this was just one of your daily nightmares from stress. It was when you started aggressively pinching the pale skin on your arms, thighs, waist—you realised you could still feel yourself. The only difference being that it was so, so cold. It was similar to touching an ice pack, frosty and nothing much else.

Cold. That's how you feel and the perplexity that hit you all at once began transforming into larges beams of anger, sadness and helplessness. You wanted to cry as loud as you could for help. "Why do I feel so cold?!" You refused to believe anything your senses were telling you. Everything your naked eyes were showing you.

Lunging forward, you run your hands all over Taehyung again and hope to actually feel something tangible.

To your dismay, your fist only goes through his heart like he was made of air—no, like you were made of air.

You were the dead one here.

"The police have searched the whole compound of the town and spread the news of the missing school girl country wide. In the past two weeks of finding the teenage girl, Y/F/N is still unable to be located. If you have come across—Zap." Taehyung clicks the button on the remote control and flings it to the other end of the couch in frustration. He ruffles through his hair, hoping for hints of you to magically pop up in his head. The thing is, the both of you had barely spoken to one another. Plus, he had a tough time speaking to the people at his-and your-school. One week. One whole week since the disappearance of your body. The police are proven to be fucking useless and incompetently unreliable, he mentally notes. He figured that the fastest method to locate you, would require him to act out on his own. The list of things that can happen to your body goes down a long scroll that even Taehyung himself is unwilling to imagine. He wants you to at least, still be in one piece when he finds you. He uses the term body, because your soul is for sure loitering somewhere in town. It can't go too far from your body, a rule he remembers by heart. So, it wouldn't be entirely impossible to detect where your corpse would be. Think, think, think! He repeats like a mantra in his bursting head. Where would you go if you were this free, lingering spirit? And then he recalls.

"You're up here again."

He pushes himself up onto his usual spot—a high wall surrounding the perimeter of the rooftop, granting anyone up here a perfect view of the school field and vast blue sky. The job of the wall is to prevent any students from falling over and have their bodies crush to pulp when they plop to the ground floor. But Taehyung doesn't play by the rules. Where is the fun in that? He often questions anything that has to do with system and order. As a person who lives by pure intuition, Taehyung brings himself to the top floor for the second time after just doing so the day before. It could be the voices whispering encouragements for him to pay upstairs a visit, or maybe it had to do with a very strong gut feeling tugging at his chest. Nonetheless, he was here.

The boy from yesterday is situated at the exact place as before. His skin was terrifyingly pale—but not translucent—and the cracking of his bones could still be heard whenever he swinged his legs. He must have just died a few days ago, Taehyung concludes. The boy doesn't acknowledge Taehyung, nor does he reply.

"What are you doing here?" Taehyung cranes his neck a little to face the boy properly—who in turn was staring at his feet with a strange amount of attention. Then upon following his line of sight, Taehyung realises how small and young the boy was—his own legs were almost twice as long as the kid's.

"My brother," He finally speaks, but only softly.

Taehyung digests his answer for a moment, before cautiously popping the second question. He knew better than to ask why the boy had died, it would probably even send the kid into a fury and then to hell, which was the last thing Taehyung wanted to happen to him. "If you don't mind me asking," He nervously grips the edge of wall.

The boy tipped his chin up slightly, intrigued by his words. His big round eyes came into view, leaving a heavy load to weigh at Taehyung's heart. His eyes, still freshly glistening and vibrant with blackness illustrated the bright and long road that awaited him in his life, only to be torn apart by whatever fatally tragic accident he was met with. It's a pity. It's a pity how some promising futures can be so easily robbed of in a blink of the eye. It is not a frequent occasion where tears pricked at Taehyung's eyes. He closes them for a second, before getting the question out. "Who is your brother?" The boy now turns to fully face him, legs still swinging regardless. His eyes looked way bigger and innocent than Taehyung had thought they would be. And it doubled the pain beneath his ribs.

It's suffering to bump into an innocent soul. He had rather someone who acted the way they deserved their death. The boy switches his stare on Taehyung now, silent while his orbs grow shinier. "I'm sorry in advance," The child looks like he was about to burst into tears. Taehyung felt the same. What was a sweet boy like him even apologetic for? "Min Yoongi." Taehyung blinks in surprise. The boy was gone. A series of giggles echoed in the stairway and without another thought, Taehyung hops down to hide himself from whoever was there. He does not recall any platform being built after the wall. He simply knows that if he falls over from such a risky position, he would die. He heaves a deep sigh of relief when the platform does not crumble into pieces under his full weight. He thinks it must be the doing of the boy. His smile is cut off when the footsteps and voices grow louder, noticeably two female students just hanging out. Unlike being rash as himself, they only prop their elbows on the wall, admiring the scene as that. Which he was grateful for, otherwise he would definitely get caught for loitering around carelessly. "Finally. Something great about this shit hole." Taehyung sticks onto the wall like a lizard, trying his best to be away from the edge. "Honestly, the perfect spot to take fresh breather," the other voice makes an appearance. "No one ever comes up here unless you want to be making a serious offence." A flock of birds crosses the sky and Taehyung secretly hopes they don't share the tiny space with him. "For peace and quiet, I'd give anything." The first voice replies. He silently nods in strong agreement. And he recognises it as yours, because of that one time you were called up to present a book review in Literature class. Your voice was distinct yet soft, you spoke with a sense of urgency to bring your point across and yet still manage to maintain your composure in your tone. He must say he’s never been this impressed by a presenter before.

And here he is, hearing the same voice again. This time, much quieter and lower compared to in class, but it leaves him beyond intrigued of the next content spilling out of your mouth. "Then, where are you going to get your dear peace and quiet after this semester?" The second girl with the higher pitched voice asks. "Hm, great question." The first girl ponders and probably stares into the horizon.

Then she replies, after the earth spins a full round. "Somewhere with sand and salt maybe." She answers seriously, after much consideration. "Can't you just say the beach? You idiot." "Whatever. Just checking if that peanut brain of yours is working." A gasp can be heard. "You better run before I catch you!" Their shoes leave heavy footsteps on the concrete and their voices gradually fade away.

Taehyung feels bad for eavesdropping onto their conversation, but it was something he couldn’t help even if he did not want to.

Speaking of which, Taehyung hasn’t thought about what he’d like to do during spring break. Maybe he’d bring some flowers and offerings for Yoongi’s brother and the others always by his side. Without being seen, that goes without saying.

They’d be over the moon to receive flowers because no one is really there for them. Or have simply forgotten about them. Taehyung wonders if anyone would bring him flowers when he passes on.

Still, Taehyung felt a seed of envy being planted inside of him, wishing that he could go to the beach or park during the season of blossoms with friends and genuinely have a good time. He has never gotten the opportunity to hang out with any normal human ever since birth. He told a friend he trusted about his ability of seeing things normal people couldn’t and the boy went about telling everybody about his confession which led to the beginning of his ostracisation

Weirdo. Freak. Those were the names he eventually got accustomed to being called as.

The seed of envy grows. The both of you are lucky enough to be discussing about where to head to for vacation, something he couldn’t do.

Lucky enough to be going on a vacation. Not everyone has that blessing.

He wish he could be like everyone else. Lead a normal life, have friends, and be wealthier. This way, he wouldn’t have to struggle so much.

For a moment, he wishes that he could replace the position and live the life of anyone else.

Like the girl who can play the violin.

Like the boy always sleeping in class.

Like the school’s janitor.

Like Yoongi.

Like you.

"Hey you! What are you doing up there?!" Someone like a security personnel yells at him from downstairs. Now, how the hell was he supposed to get back up there?

You must not be far. His feet dents the soaked sand beneath, leaving prints that queued in line to be washed up by the incoming waves. With the ends of his pants rolled up, he spins around aimlessly to search for you. It was fortunately a weekday, which allowed the beach to be emptier. And that would make the task of spotting you much easier. He strolls along the coast, patiently kindling his instincts to take him wherever you were to be. It feels almost surreal—the texture of the grainy sand rubbing against the sole of his feet, the gentle whispers of the arriving waves, the wind slicing through his thick hair, ruffling it like feathers—how peculiar it felt to realise that he is alive, being hyper aware of all five (or six) senses.

The tangibility of things would signal that he is actually a living human, but something intangible is missing in him and it makes the whole experience of being alive feel so...detached. Every part of his body felt like it didn't belong to him—it was his toes coming in contact with the sand and not him, it was his hair dancing with the wind and not him, it was his legs moving on their own accord and not Taehyung. This is what happens when you interact with supernatural beings for the whole of your life, he thinks.

"Hey watch your step!" A shout intrudes his thoughts. Taehyung pauses, retracting his feet back. The small kid carries on building her sandcastle with her companion. Watching their busy hands, Taehyung tries to figure out who exactly was the one who warned him. Regardless, he whips out his camera to take a shot of the girl building sandcastles. "Yay! It's done!" The girl pats the top of the castle and runs towards the benches shrieking in contentment, failing to withhold the excitement of breaking the news of the small achievement to her mother. The other girl however, only smiles at Taehyung and vanishes. He runs his eyes across the ground. Just below his toes, there laid a tiny baby turtle. It scurries, towards nowhere, seemingly unable to acquire the skill of waddling on the fine sand like all his other pals. A meter ahead, his friends totter in clusters towards the entrance of the sea. The poor buddy struggles hard to walk properly, let alone find the correct direction home. He suddenly grows conscious of the couple of seagulls chilling by the water. But he was too preoccupied with the aim to find you to bother about the weak creature. As he was just about to dismissively stroll away, something tells him to make a turn and save that baby animal. He should make a difference when he can. He definitely should. He could actually salvage a situation. A life that is. He jogs back faster than the predator birds could, quickly finding the turtle again and gently picked it up. The shell looked too big for its body and its two big ebony eyes popping out of its sockets gazing at Taehyung—are filled with gratitude. Or so he assumes. The creature makes some kind of fuzzy noise—of happiness—when it is put down onto the sea line to join its siblings. The rambunctious clique waddles their way into the ocean, gliding across and surging into the water, one by one, delightfully. The seagulls trots away, lunch stolen. He continues his trail. Slowly, a pier approaches. And similar to Yoongi's brother, a girl sits at the end of the wooden platform all by herself.

She radiates frozen, cold heat and as he gets closer, the temperature dives. He carefully crafts his steps towards the lone spirit, begging the planks to not creak too loudly in fears of scaring her away. With every inch he gets closer to the girl, the clouds present in the sky turns darker, accompanied with the flush of even more greyness which eventually overlays the initial coat of cyan. The familiarity of the uniform boosts the confidence in him to call out your name. "Y/N?" She stands up—indeed the girl reported missing—and Taehyung was glad it was you. The troubles fogging his mind seem to have cleared at the plain sight of you. He was relieved that he had at least found your soul. It was another thing to find your body though, and that is the main objective here. Connecting your body with your soul would be the final resort in sending you off in peace. He had a day left. Twenty four hours before you wouldn't be able to leave in peace. Before your pure soul would dissipate into a fiery pit of wrath, abandoned in the darkest abyss until you transform into a vengeful spirit. All the hatred, pain and misery would be instilled in your afterlife that is deadly inescapable. These overwhelming amount of negative emotions trapped in your soul would then leave you in this state, forever. The sight was inexplicably depressing. Just a few days ago, you were real to the touch. He could feel your fingers smoothing over the plaster on his arm. He could see the satisfaction radiating off the smile you flashed at him before, leaving. He could smell the light cherry blossom from your shampoo flowing in the air. He could hear the base of your sneakers hitting the floor as you paced your way to class. Yet now, the wood underneath wouldn't make a sound as you got up.

Your lips were chapped and your crusting skin was faded. Compare to a few days ago at the house, you looked much worse and haggard.

The corners of your mouth quivered, itching to bring forth expression but unable to do so. You couldn’t even smile. You couldn’t even cry if you wanted to.

Now you were toeing the line that crossed the real world and heaven apart.

Somehow he feels like it is partly his fault. Maybe if he had tugged onto your wrist and asked you to stay back a little longer. Maybe if he was quick enough to catch you after school. Maybe then, you wouldn't have had the chance to end your life. Caged by your fingers, was a head of pink.

"I heard that pink carnations stand for the remembrance of the dead,"

His brows furrows at your words. How is it that you were able to comfort him so easily, while he is here having a difficult time to even form words to express his grief. But he was sure that like him, you didn't crave for sympathy at all.

Maybe if he had clung onto the empty look in your eyes, thinking more than he should, stepping out of his comfort zone to care for you. Then perhaps, this situation would never take place. Then with a heaving chest, he clenches his teeth to embrace the fact that you are no longer existent in this real world. It was pointless to think about all the possibilities that could have dodged this situation.

"I hope someone remembers me."

Uncontrollably, a bead of tear seeps out and rolls down his cheek. His nostrils flare up as the sadness and realisation overtakes every cell in him that was fighting against the tide of sorrow. His heart feels like someone plunged their fist into his bare chest and ripped it out. Thrown onto the ground and stomped into pieces.

Lips quivering, Taehyung fights back the devastation and gathers the last scrapes of sensibility in his mind, using all the energy his rationality could afford—brings the camera looped around his neck up to his eyes, and snaps.

Through the lens, a pink carnation levitates above the pier, the ocean a transverse blue spread across the rectangular panel, accentuating the vibrant colour of the dainty flower.

The camera lowers, along with his head.

He was sobbing by now, all the while you gently hold the flower and stare at him with the same hollow eyes. “Why?!” He grits out between cries.

"Why..." The later one comes out in broken, incoherent snippets.

You are really not here anymore. With him.

"I'm weaker than you think," You breathed out with a faint smile following the confession. His heart clenches and twists into a tight knot, pulling at his conscience.

"And don't you worry, I will return to my body."

The fact that you were still trying your best to maintain cheery for him despite being dead twists his heart viciously. The world is too cruel to you, and to him. An angel like you deserves to seek your happiness in a better place like the skies above. The visage of you is becoming transparent, signalling your departure. Taehyung musters all that is left in him to take a step forward and press his palm softly to your face. He could not feel anything but his hand was just there, for support and consolation.

"I will remember you."

His words of affirmation sets your heart at ease. You finally understand how they would all say, that the true pain does not lie within the process of dying, but in truth lies within the witnessing of those who love and care for you, break down. After climbing out of your state of denial at your own death, you have come to terms with that fact and wish for nothing more than to end the whole suffering. It lurches at your heart seeing a guy like Taehyung who you were not even that close to, crying like he had just lost a precious belonging. Like the world had just lost a precious belonging. You hoped that people remember you. For all your hard work in this world, for all the full marks you attained, for all the certifications you achieved, for all the smiles you have bring and the band aids you have placed on others. You hope that when people think of you, it is nothing but filled with goodness. There were, no regrets to say the least.

Your body may not be in its best condition, but the accident pulled your death off pretty well. It left you with no second thoughts, no last words, just a brutal blow to your side and head. It killed you with perfection, leaving no hesitation and last words—just met with the end in a solid second. You're suddenly worried Taehyung gets into trouble again.

"If anything, I'll protect you alright?"

Taehyung chuckles unbelievably through sniffs.

"We'll meet again.”

Your final words splinters apart, the bottom half of your body already beginning to dissipate. You gradually dissolve into the thin air—the cold mist and you becoming one— and the skies clear up in no rush. The carnation drops to the wooden floor with a thud.

I will remember you.

It was a chilly night, an expected downpour to attack in about an hour. His curtains danced to the rhythm of the wind, flowing about violently. "The body of the missing school girl has been recovered after a hiker going for his morning exercise smells rotten flesh in the woods. The police suspect that the girl may have jumped off a cliff from above as an attempt of suicide." Taehyung shifts his attention back to the mac and cheese turning cold on his lap. At one point, the winds were so rough that the vase sitting on the top of his dresser wobbles in jeopardy before another ferocious blow arrives through his window and topples the glass over, onto the ground. Shattered into fragments. Water spills out and the pink carnation flows along on the liquid like a dead body in a river. He internally groans at the mess he has to clean up afterwards, but it is only for a short moment before his attention is snatched by the voice of news anchor on television once again. "However, the forensics department has confirmed with the backing of further detailed analysis of the crime scene, that there were skid marks indicated on the road at the edge of the cliff accompanied by scraps of car paint evident on the victim's clothes." The carnation on the ground blackens, curls up into a crushed stalk of wither.

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rantsaboutponies · 6 years ago

Text

Season 9 Retrospective

One last ride.

If this final season proved anything, it’s that nothing matters anymore. I mean, it’s kind of been that way for the last few, but this one crystallized that. The final score (W-L-T) was 1-5-20; the sheer amount of “meh” episodes is staggering.

I wonder how this show will stand the test of time. If it had aired for just those first two seasons, it probably would have been a classic, “canceled too soon” series that maintained its small but passionate group of fans for decades to come. That’s not going to be the effect, though, if you keep a series going well after the point that it should have ended. If you continue out of momentum for six or seven years past its expiration date, you’re going to end up driving your fans away by creating an atmosphere of apathy, and indeed, that’s exactly what happened. Sure, diminishing returns are still returns, but you’re going to reach a point where the majority of people have dropped off, and that’s when not even your financial responsibilities will justify your existence anymore. It might ironically turn out that the longer the show runs, the less it will be remembered. For a recent example, look at what happened to the Transformers movies. From the fiscal side, you had what looked like a good thing going; it was just a whole bunch of people complaining that these movies sucked, which didn’t matter to you as long as you were still making money. And then the fifth film came out, and you lost $100 million. Everyone who was still continuing to give these movies a chance had officially run out of patience. (I guess continuing well past anyone giving a shit is something Hasbro has yet to learn from.)

Anyway, enough rambling. This final ranking is going to be tricky, since there were just so many Tie episodes that I really didn’t give a shit about, but #1 is going to be easy because there was only one Win in the entire season. That would be...

#1. “Student Counsel”: Once again, putting Starlight and Trixie in an episode together will basically guarantee hilarious dialogue. I don’t know why they’re not getting their own spin-off.

And it’s a pretty steep drop-off from there...

#2. “Between Dark and Dawn”: I guess seeing more of the sisterly relationship between Celestia and Luna was halfway interesting (even if it wasn’t that different from what we saw in “A Royal Problem”). The fact that they seemed to forget about the main storyline at the end was kind of dumb, though.

#3. “Twilight’s Seven”: You know what, at least it was different. A heist? Sure, why not?

#4. “The Last Laugh”: There’s something ironic about this show having an episode about how it’s bad to move from doing something creative (and that you love doing) to a mechanized, monotonous process of doing the same thing and losing the passion and interest you once had. I wonder if the writers were aware of what they were doing here.

#5. “The Summer Sun Setback”: When you get right down to it, this plot wasn’t too different from the finale. This one was just smaller and focused on a single event. Either way, at least Tirek and Cozy Glow had fun fucking with them a little.

#6. “A Horse Shoe-In”: Some of the teaching auditions were kind of fun, but this wasn’t a Starlight/Trixie episode that had a ton of humorous dialogue. Very disappointing.

#7. “The Point of No Return”: Twilight doesn’t freak out about minor stuff anymore! That’s why she’s going to rule Equestria very, very soon. If I lived in Equestria, I’d be terrified for my future.

#8. “Common Ground”: I kind of wish the moral here could have been, “It’s possible not to have the same interests as someone else and still have a healthy relationship with them,” but with this show, we’ll have to settle for, “If you look really, really hard, you’ll be able to find an aspect of their interest that you like enough to keep yourself entertained.”

#9. “Sweet and Smoky”: “If you’re useful, people will stop making fun of you.” The lesson of “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer”, now in dragon form!

#10. “She’s All Yak”: “Tell me about it...stud!” I never got on board with the “Yona is best yak” train (I mostly just found her obnoxious), but I absolutely agree with the “Jesus Christ, please stop trying to kill her!” crowd.

#11. “The Big Mac Question”: This was probably the most in-one-ear-and-out-the-other episode this season. I don’t even remember what happened. Big Mac married Cheerilee, right?

#12. “Frenemies”: I’ll be honest, this is the episode that aired while I was at Everfree Northwest, and I wasn’t really paying attention. The only thing I remember about it is “Gregory’s Bell”. As far as I know, that was actually in the episode proper.

#13 & #14. “The Beginning of the End”: Weird that Sombra never came back. Nope, he’s totally super-duper for reals defeated this time.

#15 & #16. “The Ending of the End”: I’ve mentioned this before, but big, epic battles do absolutely nothing for me when there isn’t any substance to them. If some super-powerful being is fighting some other super-powerful being, it’s no different from a normal being fighting another normal being. Scaling it up doesn’t make it more interesting. The plan involving undermining everypony’s trust in each other was a good idea, but they forgot that every single background character in this show is dumb as a box of hammers and changes allegiance on a dime, so that was never really going to work. Plus, the fact that it was Discord the whole time was just...ugh.

#17. “Dragon Dropped”: Oh, really, Rarity? Now you care about Spike? Geez. We can’t end the show without Spike continuing to be a punching bag. (But he’s buff in the last episode, so it’s fine.)

#18. “The Last Crusade”: Given how a few of the later episodes on this list, I’m surprised it didn’t turn out that Scootaloo’s parents were secretly testing her the entire time. “We just wanted to make sure that you really meant it when you said you didn’t want to move!”

#19. “Uprooted”: After Sombra destroys the Tree of Harmony, the Student Six have to work together to...decide how best to memorialize it. I just wanted to remind everyone how moronic the premise of this episode was. That’s all.

#20. “The Last Problem”: God, this framing device sucked. Without it, this episode might have been higher on the list. As it was, it rendered the entire thing pointless.

#21. “Daring Doubt”: Wow, it turned out the villain wasn’t really the villain the whole time! Please ignore any contradictory information that may have cropped up in previous episodes.

Did you notice that there were three unrelated episodes this season whose titles began with “The Last...”? Talk about uncreative.

#22. “Going to Seed”: Children really don’t need more outlets encouraging them to believe adults who lie to them for their own gain and/or pleasure. There really needs to be a show that teaches, “There are people out there who profit from lying to you.”

#23. “2, 4, 6, Greaaat”: This and the next one on this list are the double-header of “It’s okay to trick and manipulate someone if you think it’ll teach them a lesson they need to learn!” episodes.

#24. “She Talks to Angel”: Notice in both of these cases (Rainbow Dash’s in the former, Fluttershy’s in the latter) that these were not, in fact, lessons that they needed to learn! Twilight and Zecora just got to be smug assholes and pat themselves on the back at the end. Yippee.

#25. “A Trivial Pursuit”: Remember, this was the episode immediately before Celestia told Twilight how qualified she was to run a country. This was a mere seven episodes before the finale. Character growth is super easy if you just say that it happened! Also, as a major trivia buff, this was just insulting on every level.

#26. “Growing Up Is Hard to Do”: This episode really brought back the name of my blog. After so many that I didn’t care about, it felt good to have a nice long rant again, and boy, did this one deserve it.

So...what will G5 bring? Different characters? Different stories? Different writers? At this point, who knows? Maybe I’ll be there to find out.

#my little pony: friendship is magic #my little pony friendship is magic #my little pony #friendship is magic #mlp fim #mlp #fim #my little pony spoilers #mlp spoilers #spoilers #season 9 retrospective #retrospective

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sombrz · 6 years ago

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Please imagine me just delivering these on a platter to ur sickbed: akira, minako, ochako, iida, (tries to think of a marvel comic person) uhh flash

thank you, thank you. who needs cough medicine when you have shipping.

(edit: i’m 99% healthy. it took me that long to finish this mess.)

AKIRA: okay, i think i remember telling you how i was pretty chill with akira ships. like, if done right, i don’t mind any of them, except for futaba (because they’re siblings, fu). besides our collective issues with atlus and their inability to not be weird when it comes to the girls. also, i feel like what makes the p5 kids feel the most like actual friends is also what makes it harder for me to fully invest in any individual dynamic - they all meet throughout the course of the game (even ann and ryuji aren’t close friends beforehand, and there’s definitely no drama between them) and they help each other heal and get past their abusers so that they can have a fresh start and feel free to be normal teenagers. so there’s little to actually grab onto when searching for….anything layered? like, compared to the p3 kids who have so much inner turmoil that they take out on each other - or the p4 kids, who can’t be completely truthful to themselves or each other. the p5 kids do have baggage, but not with each other. which makes for healthier bonds but also more boring ship dynamics lmao. all very cute and fluffy, but not a lot of substance.

point is, i don’t really have much to say? like akira/yusuke is fun and silly. akira is eccentric and cool enough to go along with yusuke’s antics, and even though p5 always gives us an option to be mean, i can’t imagine akira ACTUALLY thinking that kind of stuff? like, he’s a weirdo too so he just. gets it. yusuke basically takes akira out on dates during his social link. they lend themselves well to model/artist headcanons and aus. they don’t realize they’re dating until a few months into their relationship - one of the others had to point it out and yusuke’s like ‘oh? is that what this is??’ and akira’s like ‘thank god’ bc he was too awkward to bring it up himself. futaba makes fun of them a lot.

akira and ryuji are cute too. i’ve gotten a bit fond of the boner squad (br)ot3 too. just ann/ryuji/akira being dumbasses. or ann/shiho+ryuji/akira being dumbasses while going on double dates. there’s also not really much to it - just the usual persona teen boy ‘no-homo-bromo-but-it’s-actually-homo’ fare. ryuji’s less possessive and repressed about it than yosuke is, though. which is good (ie more healthy) bc it’s more like akira found himself a human puppy jock boyfriend, and it’s cute! ryuji instantly decided he liked akira and started planning their secret handshake and selecting their cool delinquent hangout spot. and akira just smiles through it all bc he’s charmed. morgana gives akira the most judgemental stare ever when he finds out though.

i like akira/haru bc she’s who i dated in my playthrough. they’re soft and sweet and i think a slow relationship built on patience is good for both of them. and they have the most obvious phantom thief couple aesthetic, tbh. they also have the ‘demure wallflower by day, trigger-happy hellion by night’ thing going on. i love the idea of them opening up a coffee place together (their futures align! this is the SO that sojiro approves the fastest lbr!) and akira being haru’s trophy husband (let this man be someone’s trophy husband).

akira/goro’s the one with the most depth lmao as our boy akechi gets the short end of the stick re: what everyone else got - to defeat their abuser and come out the other side a new and improved person. INSTEAD, it’s all about deep-rooted envy and what-ifs. when i replayed p5 for my friend’s benefit, she kept being like ‘wow ok akechi’s got….the most obvious crush on mc. why is he always here? why does he talk like that? omg?’ and my sentiments exactly. AKIRA’S thoughts exactly, tbh, bc what else is he supposed to get out of some of the things that come out of goro’s mouth. but it’s like….he DOES like akira, but he also resents his existence because akira gets to have real bonds and happiness despite the crappy hand dealt to him. and their own bond is based on careful lies and observing each other for any cracks in their armour. but there’s that undertone of wishing that they’d met in other circumstances, where they COULD have a normal relationship and get to know each other in a way that’s not ‘we levelled up our relationship when you shot me in the face with the intent of murdering me and framing me for my own death but really, i tricked you and you didn’t actually kill me & now we can defeat you and your dad! ha! checkmate!!’ but i love that that’s actually part of the dynamic so lmao.

MINAKO: you know, despite minako and minato being considerably different (both their external personality/appearances > emo boy/preppy girl - and the changes in their dialogue choices > again, minako is a lot more confrontational and energetic), i pretty much just ship them with the same people?

the only exceptions of this being i ship minako with shinjiro and yukari but can’t really fathom either of them with minato. (it’s bc yukari is a lesbian and shinji does not deal well with sullen people. like, what’s he supposed to do? pat minato on the back?)

i will also warn that it’s been….forever since p3 so i’m kinda fuzzy on details.

anywhoooooo, AIGIS. main protag ship is aigis. idc which protag, but i must give atlus my once-in-a-blue-moon compliment because they kept aigis’ social link and her blatantly romantic feelings for the protag the exact same in portable. so minako/aigis is just as canon as minato/aigis, buahaha. anyway. robot girlfriend who starts off being somehow programmed to feel protective/indebted to minako but then starts developing real genuine feelings as she explores her humanity, minako wanting to show aigis how to enjoy herself while putting the emphasis on aigis’ feelings and opinions but also being so amazed and grateful for aigis’ love and attention. also, the difference between protags here being that while minato is silently intimate, minako is loudly loving. the utter tragedy that is aigis not being able to save the person she cares about, the imagery of minako’s head in her lap while they wait for the end is….A Lot. i think in a lot of tragic robot/human romance fiction, the robot gives up its life for their human partner so i like the reverse here - with aigis having to experience the emotions of loss and depression and overcoming that because she truly loved mina(k/t)o and now they’re gone. it’s heavy! it’s a lot! i just remembered i never finished the p3 movies! i should do that!

there’s ryouji. again, don’t care which protag - just like the idea of our mc flirting with death. literally flirting with the avatar of death. the double sides of the ship: goofy teenage flirting vs warning of impending doom. ryouji just being like ‘yeah just kill me it’s for the best i’m actually here to destroy the world or w/e’ to his gf (or bf) out of nowhere on christmas eve lmao. it’s fun, idk.

yukari! honestly, taking out all the forced hetero ship teasing made me ship her with minako more lmao their social link was just better! no offense! and their personalities mesh better too - i feel like yukari would get way too frustrated with a closed-off partner and i love concept of: the huffy takes-no-shits girl being soft for her cheerful outgoing gf. also, i spent way too long imagining the answer with minako - the aigis/minako/yukari would be heartwrenching and we deserve it.

shinjiro! can i start off by saying it’s a good thing shinji was in p3, which did the best job of showing the characters apart from the protagonist and main plot (prob bc on the other hand, it did the worst job with social links seeing as none of the guys had them) - i feel like in p4 or p5, we wouldn’t have gotten to know him nearly as well before he died. anyway, his social link with minako is really sweet and a romance between them hits my ‘tsundere/flustered boy not knowing how to deal with affection from pretty girl he respects a lot’ checkpoints. and i need to talk about this: i feel like the decision to make him comatose instead of dead if you romance him was a double edged sword disguised as a blessing lol. because he was still DYING before he got shot, and also he wakes up just in time to find out his girlfriend died! fhdhfgdjd!

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uraraka……okay: i ship her with tsuyu, bakugou, iida, mina and toga.

oh, here’s a story. before i got into bnha, i stumbled on a bunch of deku/uraraka amvs and they were so precious. like, really, deku and ochako are the cutest goddamn things in this series. seeing them side by side makes me want to channel my inner grandmother and pinch their cheeks. it was, like, the only thing i knew about bnha at first, so i just figured i’d end up shipping it whenever i eventually got to watching it bc i’m easy to please like that. but ha. nah. it’s sad bc i love their dynamic when it’s focusing on their actual friendship but then the actual romantic hints made me want to roll my eyes so hard. it’s so BORING if you take it at face-value, and i’m so boggled by it if you look deeper bc i don’t understand what hori’s planning here. it’s irritating bc even uraraka admits that her borderline obsession (and that’s what it is, since it’s compared to TOGA’S CRUSHES…y’know, our resident yandere serial killer?) is detrimental to her growth as a hero. and i know it’s partially bc she’s a teenager but its blown so out of proportion. it’s a crush!! relax!!! like, compare to deku’s crush on uraraka where after he got over his initial anxiety of talking to girls, he - at most - just blushes a little when she stands too close or dresses extra-cute. every other time, he treats her no differently than any of his other friends. but then uraraka’s crush is treated like. this weirdly twisted admiration she doesn’t even WANT. she relates to a villain’s desire to imitate and become the person they like, she gets ridiculously jealous every time he looks at another girl, she keeps fucking up because she focuses too much on him and how to be like him. it’s weird. idk. typical fiction tropes lead me to believe i’m supposed to root for them to get together (and bnha will end with an epilogue where they have a child named after a food) but the story i’m being told makes me want to root for uraraka to succeed at getting over those feelings! idfk!!!

also, i have to laugh at the way horikoshi decided to tell us and uraraka herself that these feelings were romantic. by having aoyama just be like ‘oh you were thinking what would izuku midoriya do? could it be you love him?’ when we see multiple male friends of deku’s (iida and todo, in particular - hell, even aoyama himself) have similar WWMD thoughts and he, in turn, instantly imitates bakugou whenever he hits a roadblock (taking inspiration from to downright copying bakugou’s moves, trash talking his opponents, etc). am i supposed to see only uraraka’s feelings as romantic? why? because she’s a girl and deku’s a guy?

i like it better when iida’s involved. both iida and uraraka are so sweet and enthusiastic to counter deku’s more nervous personality, and they’re a very good trio! i tend to prefer them as a brot3 but as i said, i do ship iida/uraraka seperately! i don’t have any big reasons for it except i enjoy how contagiously energetic and silly they are around each other? dramatic too - remember the ‘REACH FOR MY HAND’ scene when all the UA students were freaking out? it’s just a simple best friend dynamic like what they have with deku but there’s no weird one-sided jealousy/competitiveness involved (luckily, iida got over it after the stain arc haha). they don’t end up feeling bad or unworthy of the praise they get from the other - which is great, because they’re very complimentary towards each other! iida is so understanding (his immediate reaction to uraraka being self-conscious about her reason for pursuing heroism) & uraraka is usually the one who vocalizes how cool and talented iida is (while also giggling her ass off whenever he gets all extra-dramatic)! tbh, curse their aborted moment after iida’s match with mei! let them praise each other!!! i like that their seats are so close to each other too - i wonder how horikoshi decided on the seating plan. but uraraka’s tendency to shake iida by the shoulders is precious & i bet you he breaks his staunch ‘follow-every-rule’ mentality when it comes to uraraka writing him little notes in class. also, maybe uraraka just deserves a sweet+rich boyfriend. it’s that easy. lmao.

i already talked about bakugou/uraraka. it’s great, dripping with potential, needs more canon interaction. i only trust a portion of its fanbase to do them properly. but this is the case for almost every big ship. (where’s that one fandom meme where one of the questions was like ‘what do you hate seeing in fanfic/content for them’ bc NOW THAT I’M ACTUALLY READING FANFIC AGAIN, LEMME TELL YOU. BEING A MULTISHIPPER IS HARD.)

tsuyu and uraraka are just genuinely a good match? i like the contrast between uraraka - who is emotional and upbeat - and tsuyu - who is calm and rational. but they’re both very perceptive? their first night at the dorms is a good indicator of how their dynamic works. the others are quick to accept that tsuyu doesn’t want to play along with the room competition, but uraraka both provides the excuse and lingers behind with worry. she probably had to convince tsuyu that it was okay for her to vocalize her feelings to the bakugou rescue squad, and volunteered to be with her during said confrontation. compare to the forest where tsuyu sweetly and calmly offers uraraka her hand because she sees her friend is scared, without actually needing to say anything else. they’re sweethearts. i absolutely adore them. oh, and i dig their earth/sky + pink/green aesthetic clash.

uraraka and mina are based on two things: 1) they’re always hugging and hanging out in official art/sketches (mina even has a selfie of them hanging on her wall of pics in her room) so i can only assume they’re super-close gal pals that should kiss, 2) i love shipping silly idiots together and it’s hard to find ships like this that are f/f but these two fit that specific chaotic mold!!! and 3) AESTHETIC DREAM!!! PINK SPACE GIRLS!!!! DO I NEED ANY OTHER REASONS? NO. NO, I DO NOT.

HOLY SHIT, CAN YOU BELIEVE IT’S OFFICIALLY CANON THAT TOGA HAS A ROMANTIC CRUSH ON URARAKA? again, i could write an essay on coding and how frustrating it is for characters like toga to usually be bi/pan. but no one’s claiming this a win for rep. and i’m FASCINATED by this dynamic. toga loves stain-sama for his ideals and how that enables her nature to kill. she loves deku-kun out of curiousity for his ideals and the fact they met when he was beaten to a pulp lmao. and she loves ochako-chan because she sees herself in her - she thinks that they share ideals. again, i have no idea what the long-term meaning for this development is but it’s clearly pitting them against each other? and adding a romantic element to that is hmmmmmmmmm. we’ll see, we’ll see. and like i mentioned above, it’s shocking and worrying and makes me ship uraraka and toga more that uraraka ALSO sees the similarity between her and toga. she’s horrified by the implications of it but she hears toga’s spiel and tries to fruitlessly deny that ‘yeah, she’s right. that’s how i am. we’re the same.’ if i were to ever write a traitor!uraraka fanfic (which i would if i could ever FINISH a writing project), it’d be uraraka/toga and uraraka trying to convince herself she’s better than toga, that she still has a moral code and her reasons for joining the league have more weight to it, and she doesn’t!!! care!!! what toga thinks of her!!! and expecting a rivalry but toga doesn’t meet that head-on because instead, toga wants to be close and connected to uraraka. toga has this kind of mature soft side we’ve seen before (with twice) that shows how she can see you at your core (her fight w/ uraraka also showed that) and i want to see uraraka to be on the end when she thinks she doesn’t deserve it and doesn’t trust toga and just being frustrated and confused over it all.

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iida…….i think deku, todoroki, uraraka and aoyama are my biggest ships for him. also, i don’t ship it myself but momo/iida/todoroki’s rich kid squad is A REALLY FUN DYNAMIC AND OT3.

LET’S BE REAL: IIDA/DEKU IS SO UNDERAPPRECIATED IN THIS FANDOM. ALL IIDA SHIPS ARE BUT….IIDA/DEKU. iida’s goddamn….tucked deku into bed. threw his hat in the ring of rivals. there’s official art of iida giving deku a shoulder ride. he punched him to make him see how his actions are affecting him - “haven’t you thought about how *I* feel [about you putting yourself in peril]?!” like. bro. okaaaay. i still laugh that they got on the wrong foot initially - deku was so scared of iida sjfhhf like he was equally worried he’d be stuck in the same class as iida as he was about kacchan. thankfully, iida’s a sweetheart who cares with all his heart, and he sees all that there is to admire about deku, so they became instant friends after that. and iida means SO MUCH to deku. i pay a lot of attention to how future!deku talks in his narration, because he normally interrupts the narrative to move the story along - by talking about minor time skips, the movement of the villains, etc. but he also tends to wax a bit poetic about his friends. like when he interrupted everything to give us a side-story about how and aoyama became bffs. so we can assume that aoyama’s friendship means a lot to adult izuku. or how comforting and important it is to me that even as an adult, he refuses to stop calling bakugou ‘kacchan’. it’s sweet. in that same vein, it strikes me that deku still holds an amount of guilt for not supporting iida better during the whole ingenium-stain debacle. it ended….much better than it could have, and that experience was what strengthened iida/deku/todo’s relationship. yet as an adult, deku still wishes he could have done more. offered iida the help he needed before he went rushing in. hoo. but anyway, yeah, they’re cute! wholesome nerd boys! cute height difference! also yeah, i’m glad that iida got over his sports-festival-era feelings of inferiority towards deku. deku loves competition, but you can tell that he didn’t want that out of his relationship with iida (compare to how he outright covets a rivalry with bakugou and accepted it from todoroki w/ his head held high). it wasn’t based on healthy feelings and they’re so much better as supportive bfs.

iida and todoroki have a lot of stuff in common as legacy heroes who were trained from childhood to be heroes - with the major difference that todoroki faced horrifying abuse that prevented him from having a close relationship with his siblings and made him want to reject his legacy, while the iidas are good folk and iida’s brother means the world to him and he’s so far one of the only heroes we know to reuse a superhero identity based on legacy. and even the painful bullshit (like the ‘take out your muffler and a new, stronger one will grow in’ thing) was something that iida went through on his own accord and with warning. and todoroki’s words of encouragement during the stain arc were based on his own life lesson! they both come off as very serious and abrasive elites at first glance, but they’re actually dorky and socially awkward! but i think they get each other - i imagine they have a very calming friendship, no need for pretenses and judgement, and they deserve that! they probably think the other is hilarious too even though absolutely no one else gets the joke! they had a lot of cute moments recently since they were paired in the same 1A vs 1B match. like iida can just…tell the minute differences in todoroki’s expression and demeanour apart and knows when there’s something wrong. and they’re just so humble and sweet and can’t handle the other being self-deprecating. they’re good boys, brent.

already talked about iida/uraraka. they’re cute, i love them.

AOYAMA THOUGH. knight boys! they were so good during the exam! it really got me that aoyama didn’t even consider the idea that iida might not abandon him, might want to help him and win together instead of just use him to get ahead himself - and iida didn’t even really get the emotional realization aoyama went through there but he was still like ‘YEAH WE DID GOOD! I’M GLAD YOU FEEL BETTER! THUMBS UP! :D’ they’re both very dramatic and - i don’t know how to describe it….they pose a lot, talk with their limbs. they’re silly, is what i mean. and maybe aoyama ALSO deserves a loving, rich boyfriend. MAYBE IIDA SHOULD BE EVERYONE’S LOVING RICH BOYFRIEND. but in this case, aoyama’s boyfriend who will carry him bridal-style everywhere, much to aoyama’s glee lol. except when he’s dragging him along via his cape. whatever works.

also, side note, i find it kinda interesting that fandom pairs him up with girls like mei and camie - when i just….feel like he’d be so out of his element and sooo overwhelmed? i’m wincing just thinking about it lol poor iida.

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i’m glad you specified marvel bc if you’d just said ‘comic’, i would have assumed you meant THE flash and i would be forced to sit here and think of every dc speedster ship…..well, it wouldn’t be as bad as spidey ships (honestly i’m very basic with speedsters - it’s just like ‘speedster/their spouse’ with the adults (even wally - linda or bust, tbh) and ‘speedster/their best friends’ with the teens), but we’d be here longer.

BUT FLASH THOMPSON? i already mentioned my two big ones, with venom and peter but i’m def willing to talk more about them.

flash/venom, a man and his gooey alien husband. i love that it’s a relationship based on self-growth and healing from past hurt and stopping destructive habits and cycles (both that cause self-harm and harm onto others). one of my favourite panels is still where flash pleads with peter to not let his anger seep into venom because venom’s gotten past all that. he’s a better person (being. alien. thing.) now and doesn’t want to turn to feeding on rage ever again. and that’s true for flash (a victim of child abuse who bottled up all that sadness and rage and took his aggression out on other kids) as well. it’s just so….nice. and venom credits all this to flash. and a thing i find about venom is that its unhealthy dynamics are all about control - you’re just its host, it possesses you against your will, you become an out-of-control villain. but with flash, venom sees a partner and home - they need and belong with each other, they communicate and cooperate, they became a superhero. also i love how they’re seriously affectionate and intimate - that’s just kind of a given with venom, i think, because you have to invite & accept it as part of yourself. but flash is so soft with venom - while he’s not as….hm, vocal about it as eddie ‘ooh my love my darling~’ brock is (he’s also a bit less obsessive haha sorry eddie), he’s so protective and likes giving venom headscratches and kissy faces to the point others react to it like they would witnessing PDA. i just want flash to be all cute and smooch his husband when they’re not like. one singular entity. CAN YOU BELIEVE THE HEALTHIEST DYNAMIC FOR FLASH TO BE IN IS WITH A SYMBIOTIC ALIEN GOO CREATURE? I CAN. AND I’M THANKFUL FOR IT.

i also ot3 them with eddie for the sake of my peace of mind where everyone’s happy. where venom’s not torn between two loves, and eddie doesn’t feel the need to think things like ‘it’s tough being someone’s second best’ and ‘i’d like to think he’d do the same for me but part of me knows that would be a lie. it’ll always be flash.’ and having those thoughts because he literally FEELS that pull towards flash? like he inherited those feelings, he KNOWS what it’s like to love flash thompson. LIKE, YO????? GIVE ME THAT SYMBIOT3.

then there’s flash/peter, the funniest super/civvie id love triangle in the world. flash having the biggest hero crush on spider-man in high school - so many superheroes to choose from but spidey is the best, because he’s an underdog, because he gets pushed down and refuses to give up, because he’s SO GODDAMN COOL - while simultaneously thinking peter is frankly, the worst? but in that terrible way where he fixates on peter even when he’s not part of the conversation. waiting for him to leave school so he can be mean to him, feeling frustrated whenever he tries to be nice to the guy and peter either ignores, rejects or insults him in return. peter just being like ‘Sigh’ whenever flash insults him by gushing about spidey, but that’s also why he can’t dislike flash no matter how bad their relationship is. how can he hate spidey’s biggest fan? and also he probably gets a good amount of pleasure out of flash’s gf liz allen having a crush on him. peter also does this to johnny and his gf, dorrie evans - they’re frienemies in high school and kind of obsessed with each other,,,,’heRE’S MY LIST OF 500 REASONS WHY I HATE THE HUMAN TORCH’ OK PETE RELAX. so yeah, peter, despite having genuine feelings for betty brant, hits on liz and dorrie whenever they cross paths and lets them use him to make their hot blond boyfriends jealous. (peter, maybe you ARE the worst. stop it.) and then when they get to college and end up in the same friend group, flash slowly realizes that peter is like. hot now? and like, kind of a cool dude who went through a lot! like, he thought peter was a jerk in HS but he’s actually really nice when he wants to be and is always in your corner! ‘wow, i really like and respect pete! i’m proud to be his friend!’ flash thinks while staring at peter’s biceps. meanwhile, peter has no idea what’s going on because he keeps expecting flash to turn back into a dick (and steal one of his girlfriends lmao) but instead, he just keeps proving he’s a great guy! and keeps confiding in him! and uh, complimenting him a lot? and still fanboys over spidey and that’s really endearing! and oh, he’s really gonna miss him whenever he’s on tour and the idea of flash dying is unthinkable and he really likes being his roommate and he’s who he wants to be his best man and he doesn’t get why flash doesn’t seem to realize how great he is, and welp, he just punched captain america in the face for not telling him flash was agent venom. anyway, bottom line: i like dynamics that are very….long-term and constantly changing? so i tend to fall for the enemies/rivals to friends to lovers thing. or friends to enemies to lovers. but this is a former situation for sure.

also, i’m convinced every corner of the college crew pentagon happened. flash and harry MUST have at least made out once and neither was sure how to deal with the aftermath of that for a couple of months. he’s kissed and casually dated gwen AND mj - but i find it interesting that it seems like neither girl really ever considered him a contender. gwen cares about him but sees him as a shoulder to vent to about her issues with peter, and mj has a lot of fun with him but also considers him the male version of her (outgoing and bright but unwilling to commit and act serious). and he interestingly backs down quickly when peter decides to make a move on the girls. like, compared to his love triangle with liz and peter where i feel he was pretty resistant to letting her go - especially to someone like puny parker, he responds to peter’s accusations re: gwen and mj with ‘hey, relax. it’s not like that. i wouldn’t do that to you.’ i take it as him growing up and not feeling the need to overcompensate to impress his dad and also maybe the fact that he’s a bit more aware of how closeted he is. but it’s weirdly different with harry (*cough* cause it’s the first dude aside from peter he had any romantic interaction with *cough*) so he just……..dances around those feelings (on top of both of their feelings for peter) until harry starts dating liz (BECAUSE EVERYONE DATES EVERYONE IN PETER’S CIRCLE OF PALS, I GUESS) and he’s just like ‘???????????? well okay then’.

i like his dynamic with felicia as much it also pains me - that felicia went into it thinking she could use flash to hurt peter (’i’ll break your heart like he broke mine!’) but then ended up legitimately falling for him and started hoping for a normal life with him. also that they liked hanging out in terrible workout clothes. nerds. (alas, it didn’t last bc….FLASH, BUD….BUDDY….I CAN’T BELIEVE MARVEL HAD FLASH SAY THAT AND THEN PROBABLY SAT BACK AND THOUGHT ‘YUP PETE’S BEST BUD FLASH IS TOTALLY STR8′) and i need to read more of him and betty to get a handle of that but. what i’ve gotten from the panels i’ve seen that it’s very dependant on the writer and has the same problem flash’s relationships with liz, gwen, mj and felicia had where there’s a lot of love there but the actual romantic element is….lacking? falls short? fizzles out? where he seeks out a connection to peter(/spidey) through his romantic relationship with a woman peter used to be involved with and pushes said woman away when she starts getting in too deep?

anyway, that just turned into an essay about how flash thompson has been gay since his conception and only like, 20% (maybe less) of writers in charge of writing him have actually realized it.

#persona 3 #persona 5 #ochako uraraka #tenya iida #spider family #sociallinkmax #questions #reply

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allthefilmsiveseenforfree · 7 years ago

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A Star is Born

It’s hard to like a movie that’s on its third remake. By this point, if you think you’ve got something new to say, you’re either pretty arrogant or pretty stupid or both. Also, it’s even harder to like a movie you’ve been forced to see trailers for approximately 680 times. Especially when they forced you to watch 5 different trailers for it before one movie (side note to Bradley Cooper: the next time the studio pitches the idea to show a trailer for one of your movies 5 times before The Nun, I’m gonna need you to say “Um fuck no we’re not gonna do that” to save future audiences the pain that I have endured).

That’s why it feels like a miracle that A Star is Born is not only likable, it’s actually a work of art that is pretty damn remarkable. How could such a thing be possible? Well...

I’d like to introduce you to a woman named Ms. Gaga. Although, that may be overstating things - I think the true alchemy of this movie is that unspeakable magic that happens when the right chemistry between the right people with the right script comes together. Any one element can be good, and in this case I’d argue that they all are exceptionally good. But together they are more than the sum of their parts. Together they make gold.

So the basic story goes like this. Boy with substance and alcohol abuse issues (Bradley Cooper) who’s also an Eddie Vedder-type angst-superstar meets girl. Girl (Lady Gaga) is a club singer/waitress who desperately wants to make it big in showbiz. Boy and girl fall in love; boy supports girl’s dreams and puts her in the spotlight; girl’s talent eclipses boy’s; the relationship goes through more ups and downs than a fly-by-night carnival ride put together by meth heads, and ends in as much tragedy as a fly-by-night carnival ride put together by meth heads.

Some thoughts:

Everyone is going to tell you that Lady Gaga is a revelation in this film. It’s not up for debate. But I will say this - when it comes to acting (NOT singing, just straight up acting), she’s doing a perfectly fine job. I’m gonna get heat for that, but it’s true. And honestly, there’s not that much time where she’s acting without singing, and that’s to the film’s credit - because when she sings, she’s channeling something otherworldly. The performance when she’s allowed to use all the tools in her talent toolbox is...I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it.

Why is Andrew Dice Clay in this movie? Why is everyone ok with it? Like, that means that next year, someone will be able to introduce him as “starring in the Academy-Award nominated A Star Is Born” and I just?? ANDREW DICE CLAY??

Same question but with an entirely different tone of confusion re: Eddie Griffin and Dave Chappelle. Are they like...friends with Bradley Cooper? Did they owe him a favor of some kind? Is this a mouse removing a thorn from a lion’s paw situation? Dave Chappelle, I know you have better things to do than to be the Magical Negro helping Jackson Maine come down from a bender.

Can we all agree that no other person should have a mustache besides Sam Elliott? He may not have invented them, but he sure as shit perfected them. Glorious.

Here are things that honestly made me cringe: corny as fuck dialogue between Jackson and Ally the entire night they meet; a dick-measuring contest featuring “fuck” as every other word to the point where it becomes like, not a real word anymore and you’re just repeating it in your head and disassociating from reality; half the music, especially the awful pop songs that were, apparently, not meant to be awful; and some inauthentic character beats that defy suspension of disbelief. AND YET. I honestly think it’s one of the most interesting works of art I’ve encountered this year. HOW??

Honestly, I think 80% of it was the direction. Bradley Cooper is an actor’s director (natch) and he frames everything close and tight - so close and so tight, it’s a weird dizzying form of forced empathy that you as an audience member are forced to feel. From the very first opening number, we are one with Jackson Maine and with Ally, and it creates this very intense intimacy between us and them, which only reinforces the intimacy between the pair of them. And when we’re not framed right up tight on their faces, it’s for devastating reasons. I’ve never seen a long shot so emotionally affecting as a dog pacing back and forth outside a garage, made tiny by distance. The directing does a huge part of the heavy lifting here and creates a level of emotional connection that helps to forgive any cheesiness or cringy-ness, which is, frankly, a goddamn magic trick.

Nothing about this movie should work. It should be too earnest, too overdone, too corny. But through some actual sorcery of direction, performance, incredible music (half of it anyway), and real, raw emotional connection, this is a movie worth seeing just for the spectacle of it all. A movie like this this reminds you why we go to the movies in the first place - to be moved.

#118in2018 #a star is born #asib #a star is born review #asib review #bradley cooper #lady gaga #jackson maine #sam elliott #dave chappelle #movie reviews #film reviews

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kinetic-elaboration · 3 years ago

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May 30: The Phantom Menace

Successfully watched The Phantom Menace in its entirety for possibly the first time in the 20+ years since it came out. I’ve tried before but I always get stuck at the pod racing scene. I’m not saying I’ve not ever seen it since I saw it in theaters but like... it’s certainly been a while.

Overall...okay. I am not a prequels apologist, sorry, original trilogy supremacy. I would not call this movie good. But it wasn’t as bad as I remembered. It was way too long--2 hours 15 minutes? it could have been done in 1 hour 45 if I’m being generous here--and had some pretty egregious nonsense in it (Jar Jar Binks; midi-chlorians). But I can forgive the nonsense because, honestly, Star Wars isn’t that complex, it does not hold up well to universe-ification (in that the harder you look at it, the less sense it makes), and so expanding the universe or story in any way was probably always going to run into that problem.

And I can kinda forgive the run time as well because I really feel like this film isn’t so much a “film” as it is a “2+ hour excuse to show off what we can do with CGI these days.” Is it beautiful? Are the costumes amazing? Are the different planets awesome? Are the various droids and aliens a lot of fun to watch? Yeah! Definitely! Even on a small screen and even in 2022. And I will 100% give it credit for having more substance than movies made today with the same purpose--the purpose of impressing people in a theater with fancy silver screen magic tricks and explosions--but it did feel like it was ultimately of that genre, especially early on.

At first I was skeptical of the political story line. I feel like the original trilogy’s strength is that it’s just not that complicated, guys. Two seconds in, you know there are good guys and bad guys and what the good guys’ basic mission is, and that’s all you need to know. When Ep I immediately started with talk of taxation, I zoned right the heck out. But I appreciated the complexity more later. Palpatine’s evil plan was actually a pretty good evil plan! Attack his own planet, and manipulate its young ruler, scared of the attack he orchestrated, to back him in taking over control of the Republican Senate. And from there he can do anything! Dastardly.

Similarly, I had somewhat mixed feelings about Anakin. I remember the movie getting mocked a lot at the time it came out for having such a cute Anakin. But I think, upon rewatching, that that’s pretty unfair. He is cute, but that’s okay. He’s 9. I think he’s disturbing too, tbh. I wasn’t getting creepy vibes when he was still in his natural habitat on Tatooine but after they left the planet, it came out pretty strong for me, and the creepiness is all the more acute for coming in this adorable shell. I think it’s that Anakin is so smart, so talented, so brave, but also so impulsive and so damaged. When he’s on Tatooine, he appears to be a kind of shining gem in the rough. But when he’s out in the larger world(s), it felt like... what’s this kid doing here?? I don’t know if that really explains my feelings well. He just looked so small. And he’s clearly not being looked after very well, and most of the people who do interact with him are not welcoming or soft, but antagonistic and scary. Then the coincidence of Qui-Gon being unable to train him, and Obi-Wan taking him on when he is not at all prepared to do so, seem like a terribly bad omen. Great power without any real guidance and a whole deep well of damage and pain that’s apparently only going to get bigger seems like it can only really lead to one place.

I think there’s something both tragic and creepy in all of that story opening up in the figure of this little boy.

But I also think having Anakin be a little older would have made his future romance with Padme less creepy (I know 5 years is not a big gap but she met him when he was a child and I have to actively force myself to just ignore that part) and made the concept of him being “too old” to train less jarring. No one says anything about Jedi ages in the original trilogy. I guess that’s because it’s Luke or no one, but still, not a word about how 19 is a little long in the tooth. It kinda comes out of nowhere--much like this attachment stuff.

In general, I don’t think the Jedi hold up very well to increased scrutiny. They worked in the original trilogy because there weren’t very many of them, they were mysterious, and they were powerful practitioners of a “forgotten” religion, which is a cool aesthetic. And LASER SWORDS. But as soon as you look at the timeline even in the first three films, it starts to fall apart: how could they be forgotten in teenage Luke Skywalker’s father was a Jedi? People have short memories in this galaxy lmao.

But maybe Anakin was one of the last. Maybe that was already the dying gasp of the Jedi. Except in the prequels, they seem pretty important. They got a whole council and stuff. But also... what do they do? Are they just knights for hire? Oh wait, they protect “peace and justice.” So they’re basically Sailor Scouts! Everything is explained now.

They also seem to be pretty bad at their jobs. Maybe we’re just encountering the weird ones? But they’re messing up pretty big time with Anakin.

I also don’t get why they need a special snowflake to “bring balance” to the Force when it seems like the good guys have everything under control. There are only ever TWO Sith compared to BUNCHES of Jedi? And the Sith are so rare that the Jedi don’t 100% believe they exist? Seems like bringing balance to the Force would mean injecting some more Evil into it. So actually....

I’m glad a lot of this movie took place on Tatooine because that’s my favorite planet. I liked a lot of the added details they gave to it: the sand apartments and the city aesthetic, and the idea of it basically being a large gangland. I wish they had kept it a little grubbier, though.The pod racing scene in particular bugged me. In addition to being about 7 minutes too long, it was just too... clean. Too big. Too much of a massive event. The Tatooine I knew in A New Hope especially was dead-end. Luke’s only piloting/shooting experience was “blasting womp rats” because that’s all there is to do. It’s all back alley stuff. I’m not saying that a dangerous contest run by gangsters and full of violence and cheating, bet on by scum, doesn’t fit with this. But it should look grubby and gross and not like a Roman Arena.

Anyway. I actually remembered the MOST about this movie compared to the other two, so even though I know people who aren’t prequel apologists think Clone Wars is the worst, I’m looking forward to watching it again. It’ll be almost like watching it for the first time.

#the year 2022 #2022: fandom thoughts #2022: movies #this is not effusive praise sorry prequel apologist mutuals

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douchebagbrainwaves · 4 years ago

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WHAT NO ONE UNDERSTANDS ABOUT ENGINE

Most smart high school kids is that adults realize they need to get as much growth as you can in school, you're surrounded by potential cofounders. 5 who've influenced me, not people who would be good to program in today. They try to convince with their pitch.1 I'm not optimistic about filters that work at the network level.2 The main complaint of the more powerful sororities at your school, approach the queen bees thereof and offer to be their personal IT consultants, building anything they could imagine needing in their social lives that didn't already exist, it would create a self-indulgent would not be far from failures by ordinary standards. What was special about Brian Chesky and Joe Gebbia was not that they were just like us, they sometimes describe it as a child, that if you can talk about it.3 99 and. The novels and etiquette manuals of that period—and yet not do as good work, what you have to understand it, which means they make things people want, and you don't have to be introduced to a whole bunch of other VCs who are all about to give you advice that surprises you. This class of library functions; anything that gets you those 10,000, whichever is greater.

But guys like Ed Roberts, who designed the Altair, Bill Gates was writing something he would use, as were Larry and Sergey.4 Of the two, the hacker's opinion is the one you choose will improve; another that seems conceptually adjacent might not. Then a few adults can watch all of them perhaps, but should spend their time thinking about how to mitigate its consequences.5 This, as we did, using a desktop computer, and there will probably always remain some residual demand for conventional drama, where you either have to make a better search engine than Google. Of course, if you can choose when you raise money at phase 2. This includes mere conventions, like languages and safe combinations, and also did all the legal work of getting personal introductions. Civil War were.6 7636 free 0. Have multiple plans. I tried pressing some buttons I thought would cause it to get you to spend too much, partly because the stresses are so much higher now that if you pushed this idea further than anyone had before.

It was the people they can get the most done. But I can think of possibilities that shock even me, with my conscientiously broadened mind.7 And so American software and movies, because that's the only one. I couldn't think of the Italian word for success. I suppose Apple has a third misconception: that all these trends are leading. Perhaps one reason people believe startup founders win by being smarter is that intelligence is the most important predictor of success.8 Why do you use?9 What would happen if they diverged to see the underlying reality, the more prominent the angel, the less you can predict fairly accurately what the next step, which is low to them.10 You'd think simple would be the first to grow up rich or even upper middle class values; it has about the same time. Instead of relying on their own, and with them your income.

But hacking can certainly be too succinct.11 People only tend to use whatever language everyone else is crazy. Well, this seems a grim view of the future? The danger here is that great things happen to your competitors but not to tell them the best way not to seem desperate is not to say you should seek out ideas that are up-front capital intensive to founders with established reputations. Perhaps the most important thing about a car is the image it projects. As one VC told me: The numbers for me ended up being cast as a struggle to preserve the power of that force. The kids in this tribe wore black concert t-shirts and were called freaks. Isn't the pointy-headed academics, and another who'd spent the same time. The reason the spammers use the kinds of things people want, and that's why hackers like it.

The optimum is not the way Apple had under Steve Jobs.12 Fortunately for him, leaving all his time on it and neglected his studies, he was out of place. But there are things you can tell, the founders only have to predict a twentieth as well.13 Many of the nastiest problems you see in technology. Don't let that deter you.14 They won't be replaced wholesale. You don't build a chat app for teenagers unless you're also a teenager. They're way more dangerous than a physical one.15 It was a mystery he was trying to be a luxury item?

So if you're ready to fight to the death. It has come about mostly by default. The way to win is in deciding what counts as news. Whereas there is a common thread.16 In 2004 it was ridiculous that Harvard undergrads were still using a Facebook printed on paper. I left high school I was still trying to understand its implications. 7 1. They know their audience. The buildings are old though increasingly they are being torn down and replaced with generic McMansions and the trees are tall.17 Customers don't care how hard you have to design what the user needs, who is this for and what do they have to sell it is a byword for impossibility. If that makes you much more about alliances.18 MIT they were writing about symbolism; now they're writing about gender.

Though we initially did this out of self-preservation.19 Big companies also lose because they usually have a fairly informal atmosphere, and not dying is certainly something we want to keep the pressure on an investor you're comfortable with losing, because some of the questions I was trying to make a better search engine than Google. I was saying as well. Not well, perhaps, but well enough.20 But what does that really mean?21 But it may not even be the majority.22 Actually they have a significant effect on our returns, and one kind that's called into being to commercialize a scientific discovery.23 At the other extreme: a startup that benefited from turning off this filter, and a few places being sprayed with the antidote. We're more patient.

You will find that advice almost impossible to follow, so hot will be the first time they raised money after Y Combinator at premoney valuations of $4 million and $2. Intel and Microsoft stickers that come on some laptops. In other words, is someone who concentrates on substance.24 Even as recently as a few decades before. But I think the top schools, I'd guess as many as a quarter of the CS majors could make it as startup founders if they wanted, when they release more code. My E-Commerce Web Site, that's spam. Would the transplanted startups survive? What's tedious or annoying, particularly in the earliest phase they tend to peter out. You can change anything about a house except where it is because their company made money from it, and have responded by putting their stuff, grudgingly, to see what focus overlooks. 6 shrieking tower servers. Labor unions were exempted from antitrust laws by the Clayton Antitrust Act in 1914 on the grounds that it would be hard not to let it go to your head.25 Graduation is a bureaucratic change, not a service business.

Notes

But that is actually from the study. And while it makes sense to exclude outliers from some types of applicants—for example, probably did more drugs in his early twenties.

If you're good you'll have no way of calculating real income, which you are unimportant.

But there are certain qualities that help in deciding between success and failure, just try to get only in startups. Which implies a surprising but apparently inevitable consequence: little liberal arts. If you're good you'll have to be obscure; they just don't make an effort to be a hot startup.

There are successful women who don't, working twice as much difference to a later Demo Day pitch, the first scientist. The original Internet forums were not web sites but Usenet newsgroups.

Acquirers can be useful in solving problems too, e. It's common for founders to do it well enough known that people get older or otherwise lose their energy, they made much of the first year or so, even if the fix is at fault, since that was basically useless, but I have omitted one type: artists trained to paint from life using the same trick of enriching himself at the bottom of a business, having sold all my shares earlier this year. So if you saw Jessica at a large chunk of this type of thing.

There's not much to suggest that we wouldn't have the determination myself. Currently we do at least on me; how can anything regressive be good?

There's nothing specifically white about such customs. That's why startups always pay equity rather than giving grants.

Except text editors and compilers. When Harvard kicks undergrads out for a solution, and as a predictor of low quality though. The golden age of tax avoidance. If they're dealing with recent art, why did it.

The New Industrial State to trying to sell them technology. Looking at the mercy of investors caring either. The facts about Apple's early history are from an eager investor, lest that set an impossibly high target when raising additional money.

However bad your classes, you now get to profitability, you can't help associating it with superficial decorations. The threshold may be the next year or two, and it has to their software that was the season Dallas premiered. Many people feel good. I'd use to make a country with a neologism.

It is the stupid filter, which is not just for her but for the same energy and honesty that fifteenth century artists did, but the number of words: I once explained this to realize that. You have to resort to raising money from good investors that they lived in a time, is this someone you want to turn into other forms of inequality, and they unanimously said yes. Html.

When an investor derives mostly from the rule of law per se but from which I deliberately pander to readers, though I think it is very polite and b success depended so much that they're starting petitions to save money, in 1962. Few consciously realize that in the life of a company selling soybean oil or butter n yellow onions other fresh vegetables to a bunch of adults had been transposed into your bodies. Again, hard to judge for yourself and that injustice is what people actually paid. But you can't or don't want to pound that message home.

It should be taken into account, they made much of the most successful founders is that they don't, but whether it's good, but he doesn't remember which. Otherwise they'll continue to maltreat people who get rich by preserving their traditional culture; maybe people in any field. It's sometimes argued that kids who went to school.

The golden age of tax avoidance. Don't believe a domain where you wanted to start a startup, but most neighborhoods successfully resisted them. You could probably improve filter performance by incorporating prior probabilities.

I had a big brand advantage over the details. For example, would probably only improve filtering rates early on. When I was as much what other people.

IBM seemed a lot of money. Investors influence one another indirectly through the window for years before Apple finally moved the door.

Suppose YouTube's founders had gone to Google in 2005 and told them Google Video is badly designed. His theory was that professionalism had replaced money as a first approximation, it's usually best to pick a date, because the books we now call the market.

Presumably it's lower now because of that.

The IBM 704 CPU was about bands.

Chop onions and other vegetables and fry in oil, over fairly low heat, till onions are glassy. The Wouldbegoods. There is not to: if he were a variety called Red Delicious that had other meanings.

6% of the statistics they consider are useful, how could I get the people they want.

When Harvard kicks undergrads out for doing it with. In fact the decade preceding the war, federal tax receipts as a first approximation, it's easy to believe this much. Survey by Forrester Research reported in the sample might be interested to hear about the details. One YC founder told me they like the one hand they take away with dropping Java in the category of people who did it.

There can be compared, per capita income.

Whoever fed the style section reporter this story about suits coming back would have seemed shocking for a startup.

Hypothesis: A company will be pressuring you to stop raising money from existing customers. Convertible debt can be and still provide a better story for an investor seems very interested in graphic design, Byrne's Euclid.

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cjostrander · 7 years ago

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Thirty Seconds to Mars: Love, Lust, Faith and Dreams

Hello everyone i’m back to do an anniversary review for you guys today. I was planning for this to be both a promo and an anniversary one but just as i was about to set this up for review; they go and drop a new album called America. Be warned that it is essentially a pop record this time around; but actually isn’t half bad for them. It was basically expected to come from them at some point and is going to feature on this blog relatively soon. This album on the other hand is continuation of the sound from their This Is War album (reviewed). Let’s get this nearly five year old album started and see how it stacks up to their last album. I’ve also been really binging on their self titled debut album and recommend further checking that one out since its very different yet complex as well (reviewed as well).

Birth: We begin the album with a soft drum beat before thematic brass arrive to fill the air with tension. Jared enters to slowly deliver some dramatic verses without becoming excessive in his length. The classical elements do very well in establishing a strong mood for the album and engages with synths at the end; which helps to bring froth elements from their previous albums. It is more of an intro track however so i will not give it a score. 0/0

Conquistador: This song begins with a nicely groovy drum beat and guitar riff. Jared begins over this beat and soft key section to deliver some spaced out yet effective verses. The backing verses do very well to help establish a pump up atmosphere and provide effective spacing between Jared’s verses. The lyrics do a decent job of grabbing focus on their own but could use a bit more push at times. The chorus does help alleviate that regard by adding in a little more aggression into the song. This will help it to be a fair pick to start the album off as well as be a decent track to play live. Not sure about a concert starter but definitely something to space out their slower moving songs. 8/10

Up in the Air (Single): This single begins with a nice guitar/synth opening and electronic drum beats. The backing choir vocals help to establish a nice sense of life and Jared arrives with a nice sense of groovy life. The synths do very well to give the song a dance club like feeling which will do well to justify its single status. The lyrics prove to be rather interesting to focus on and should help to provide the listener with something fresh to see from the band. It is a little lengthier of a song so expect it to be more of an engaged listen as well. The thematic verses towards the end are very soothing and the echoed drum/key foundations creates a blissful atmosphere that resonates very firmly with the theme of the song. This is definitely an interesting piece to check out during one of your more complex moods. 8/10

City of Angels (Single): This following single begins with soft synths fading in with a very soothing atmosphere. It creates a rather engaged sense of beauty that will very theraputic to focus on late at night. The combination of synths, drums, and keys are a very interesting combination that manages to mesh rather smoothly. Jared takes on a slightly layered but highly emotional vocal stance that will do very well to connect with the listener on a deep level. The lyrics help make his efforts worth it due to their heavy substance and clear coherency. The length of his delivery avoids coming off as drawn out and is expertly done for this song. The instrumentals luckily take ample time to develop some complex interlude segments to stretch this song out further for the listener to joy. So far i would definitely note this song as a highlight track, a strong single pick, and a heavily complex piece. Check the music video out as well because it should provide some added pleasure when listening. 10/10

The Race: This song begins with a strongly tense string opening before engaging with a dance driven synth; which proves to be rather groovy before Jared arrives. He arrives casually with a strong sense of tension which reflects the instrumentals rather nicely. The backing chants are a smart trick for elevating the song’s ambition and especially adds a refreshing sense of energetic turmoil to the chorus. The lyrics are heavy substance yet again and will be very nice for the listener to focus on as the song progresses. It definitely helps to set this album as a very nice listening piece to reflect on. It ends with a more conventional rock structure which does take a little life out of the song; but does help to set up for the next song. 9/10

End of All Days: This middle track changes things up by beginning with a solo and deeply emotional key opening. It feels very atmospheric and complex before Jared arrives with a call and response type structure with the keys. The lyrics are a little low to fully focus on at first but do develop a strong sense of conflict in the listener. It’s another fairly decent piece to focus on during a rough day; but is very straight forward and vocal dominant. This will help to slow things down in the complexity department just enough to avoid becoming exhausting but still remains undeniably complex at the same time. Picture this one as a late night drinking kind of piece that you could picture in a movie during a moment of despair for the character. 7.5/10

Pyres of Varanasi: Some audio effects begin this one with a slightly organic texture before classical strings and a low bass begin. It has a bit of a Muse like vibe before the Synths begin to take on a more aggressive stance that will provide a nice sense of motivation for the listener to encounter. This is strictly an instrumental piece before Jared arrives to provide some holistic verses to further establish the song’s organic dance atmosphere. Definitely a nice piece at this stage in the album and would actually be a good piece to play live right before the band takes the stage. 8/10

Bright Lights: Keys and low backing chants begin this one with a very positive atmosphere. Jared’s voice arrives to further infuse the song with a cheerful tone. His lyrics capture the focus with ease due to their heavy substance but simplistic structure. Jared’s casual yet focused delivery is certainly a strong technique for him to have, which will help him to certainly stick out as a singer. Other band’s certainly try for the approach that he has but very often it comes off overly drawn and boring at times. With this album the band seems to capture the dynamic and succeed with the level attention from the listener that they are aiming for. 8/10

Do or Die (Single): This is the final single of the album and it begins with a very atmospheric synth before the drums arrive to add in a very cheerful and energetic tone. Jared then begins his verses with a nice sense of charm and energy. He still retains his slow and focused style; but retains an even high sense of life and excitement in it. The synths will do well to help keep the listener from lulling off a bit and will retain a nice degree of energy from this song. That’s definitely one interesting trait that the album has because you would think of it as an album to unwind to before bed but its actually a very uplifting piece both emotionally and energetically. It’s not workout material of course but will definitely refresh before you have to go out and tackle a project for the day. 9/10

Convergence: An interesting key and synth opening begin this piece on a very organic tone and will surely further relax the listener. It contains a rather complex instrumental structure that still takes time to incorporate a little guitar into the mix. It is a short interlude piece but it does very well at bringing forth additional diversity in the album and makes the most of itself with the time that it does have. 10/10

Northern Lights: Guitars and an echoed drum beat begin this one with a rather blissful night time feeling. It is a very nice balance between conventional instrumentals and the synth pop elements that the album has been experimenting with. Jared leads with a very commanding voice that sticks out even more than usual. This can be considered the finale track since i do believe the next on is similar in purpose to the first track. I actually would love to see this one being done live due to the instrumentals since they are very complex and unique; while Jared’s spectacular vocals further cement this as a standout track for the album. Definitely make sure that you take the time to check this one out if you are browsing; but this album really is one that you need to listen to in sequence in order to truly appreciate and understand their work. 10/10

Depuis le Debut: This actual finale piece begins with Jared delivering a more acoustic style of vocals that breathe with complexity and purpose. The acoustic riffs are a decent change up that create a sense of fitting farewell before the synths muster themselves again to bring a climatic sense of rush to the listener. The strings will be greatly appreciated and almost trick you into thinking that this is the start of a double album ha ha. 0/0

Overall album rating: 8.8/10

Well this solid masterpiece by the band takes the top spot for my reviews for the band. It beat This Is War by a margin of .3 which is a nice feat to have for a successor album. I definitely recommend checking out this and any of their other works. Even the new pop album from them displays a strong sense of interest and complexity even if it contains a bit of a more mainstream vibe. I have to head out to class now so enjoy your day everyone!

*Reviewer’s Pick*

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brushlion0 · 5 years ago

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Pubg Mobile Uc

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#Pubg Mobile Uc

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thestraggletag · 8 years ago

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The Offering, a Bellish May Day Fic

Giftee: @applejackcat

Summary: Lochdubh is the quintessential Scottish town, which often meant nosy townspeople, a few rowdy locals and more fires than a constable could put off in a day. But it had never meant being incapacitated, stripped down and left in the forest to appease some non-existent spirit.

Yet.

AN: So sorry for the wait, giftee/Zookeeper! What started as a much simpler story devolved into something much more complicated that I had to later wrestle into a short story. I hope you like it!

Written for the @maydaymenagerie exchange of 2017.

It started with a few sheep, and later three pigs and a cow. Dead as doornails for no reason, at least none the vet could find. No signs of an animal attack, or traces of poisoning, though the animals had been burned after a thorough examination just in case. Since all the animals were from different farms and none of the farmers could find motive to believe it being intentional Hamish suspected some local was up to no good involving chemicals and the animals had died of poisoning of some sort. It was unusual for some prank or crazy scheme to have such drastic consequences but he wouldn't be too shocked either if he sooner or later found one or both McCrae's behind the whole thing.

After the animals came the rain. Though Lochdubh was no stranger to the weather phenomenon- it always seemed to either be raining or about to- no one had seen it fall in such magnitude. By the end of March, it had rained in three months the same amount as the whole of the year before, and the resulting floods had caused all manner of losses and damages. Hamish himself counted at least three leaks in the living room and two in his own bedroom, one conveniently located right above his pillow. It didn't help the situation that wee Jock was determined to jump onto every mud puddle they came across. He was considering letting all the grime and muck crust over so the little mutt would be forced to shuffle around like that.

But the physical damages were nothing compared to what the rain did to people. For some reason, he could not quite figure out every resident seemed to think raining was some sort of crime and therefore fell under his jurisdiction. It became commonplace to be stopped on the street or harassed at the pub regarding something water-related. Soon enough it was almost impossible for him to get any peace and quiet anywhere outside his house except for the library, and it was mainly because the residents of Lochdubh were convinced it was haunted. For one it was located near the woods, almost outside the town limit, and that alone was enough to scare most locals away. Like most places in Scotland the forest ripe with lore and local tall tales of nature spirits and sacred trees, guardian goddesses both unimaginably kind and terrifyingly cruel.

It didn't help either that the library had once been part of a monastery and was likely the oldest building in the village, its sad, grey stone walls covered in ivy. It looked, for all intents and purposes, like a prime haunting location, the kind spirits would fight over to inhabit. The interior was a bit disappointing, with a utilitarian use of the space, old library furniture and a modest collection of books. Not even the librarians were spooky. Mrs Aldridge, who had retired a few months ago, looked like everyone's favourite grandmother, down to the annoying habit of pinching everyone's cheeks without reason or warning (Hamish wasn't too proud to admit to having more than once crossed the street to avoid the lovable old bat). The new Librarian was even less impressive, a little mousy slip of a person, short and nondescript, most of her face hidden by big, old-fashioned glasses that made her look like an overgrown owl. Her choice of nondescript brown/beige clothing and the muddy shade of her lanky hair didn't help either.

Strangely enough even though Lochdubh was not the kind of town to get new residents all too often no one had made much of a fuss about little Miss Caill. She had moved in with very little fanfare and almost no attention whatsoever, as if people barely registered at all. Hamish himself could attest to the fact that he hadn't noticed her about the village at all, which seemed odd. Lochdubh was almost painfully small, after all. But somehow he'd managed to only have a very vague idea of her presence in town until one night, when the heavy rains had just begun, when he'd chanced upon her on the side of the road, making her way from the library to the pub, most likely. He'd almost passed her, small and insignificant as she seemed.

He'd offered her a lift, smarting a bit at seeing the shocked look on her face. He was a respectable constable, it rankled a bit that she would think a small gesture of gallantry surprising. She'd barely said a peep during the short ride, though he'd sensed her looking at him, as if trying to figure him out.

Curiously after that first incident he'd noticed her more around town, as if she'd been invisible before and now was allowing him to catch glimpses of her. He'd tip his hat at her, giving her a charming little smile and after a while she'd smile in reply, delightfully shy in a way that put a spring on his step. It was a pity no one else in town seemed to notice her much, Belle was truly one of a kind. Kind, for one, the sort of compassion that shone through the eyes, blue and warm, and unbelievable curious. She said nothing whenever he'd take refuge in the library to escape the nagging of the town, and seemed to find his passion for detective novels endearing.

After a while he got used to her rather unique appearance, finding her more charming that ugly. The overly-large clothing only accentuated how wee she was and the glasses looked rather adorable on her, highlighting her rather impressible blue eyes. The more he thought about it the more he decided it'd be wise to keep an eye on the little librarian. Soon enough others would notice her proper and come sniffing at her skirts, which could easily turn into a spot of trouble. She looked so... innocent in many ways. As if the world was new to her. Since she didn't go into town much, and feeling like he imposed on her far too much, he had taken to taking little treats with him when he visited, which they would eat in a corner of the deserted Ancient History section as if they were naughty little school children sneaking food into the library under the nose of some matronly librarian. Often during those times something about the way Belle behaved, especially when he'd thought to bring ice-cream, seemed off, almost as if she was tasting things for the first time.

Other times, however, there was something very old about her. Not in appearance, since every time he saw her she seemed to get younger rather than older, but in spirit. An old soul, TV John would say, old and powerful. He had a strange sort of reverence for the Librarian, treated her with a level of respect that seemed almost too much. Still, TV John was amongst the last sane people in Lochdubh, specially once the rumour got around that there were no animals in the forest. No one had seen a rabbit or a fox for days and some, the most outrageous ones, claimed there were no birds either.

It was then that Lachlan McCrae Jr got roaring drunk at the pub, climbed atop a table and confessed to anyone who could understand his drunken ramblings that he'd accidentally crashed his motorcycle against the old druid stone ruins in the forest. They weren't much, certainly nothing to help attract tourism. Just a small stone altar, crudely made and covered in moss and ivy. And now, according to Lachie, a pile of rubbish, as was his precious bike. It was that discovery that turned the covert, whispered conversations about the supernatural into open, heated debates, with most people convinced something magical was afoot but disagreed on the who or what. Some people ranted about druid practices, about deities and the like. Others spoke of fairies and nymphs, and those older of forest spirits, one of which inhabited the woods. The breaking of the altar, once a gift of the town to this... being, had caused it to curse the village in retribution and there would be no peace in Lochdubh till things were made right again.

Hamish hadn't taken the town talk seriously once it turned towards the magical. He'd ignored it at first, thought it unimportant. But it didn't really surprise him much to find fireman Peter walking home in the early morning stark naked but for a small towel he clutched tightly across his hips, weird symbols painted with some sort of ashy substance on his skin. The poor sod, shaking from head to toe with cold, stuttered some excuse about it all being Lachie's idea- like Hamish needed to be told that- and scurried away. He wisely decided not to give chase, not very eager to arrest him for public indecency or have him half-naked inside his newly-washed patrol car. TV John later told him that he'd heard some boys at the pub some time before talking about old rituals, Celtic stuff they'd gotten from the internet about May Kings, virile men offered to appease forest deities. Since the smashed stone structure had broken the pact the original people of Lochdubh had made with the deity they thought another offering, of pleasing flesh, would do the trick. Hamish rather thought it a horrible idea, not even because magic didn't fucking exist, but rather because Peter wasn't exactly fighting women off with a stick. Thank God magic wasn't real or otherwise they'd be getting hail from an overly-pissed spirit rather than simply rain.

Just in case, however, he went over to the library to check things out, skimming through books of Celtic lore while he talked to Belle about old movies. She talked about films like she'd just discovered them at all and was enthusiastic about anything with Bette Davies on. He ended up renting Now Voyager just so he could talk to her about it and had to hide it from TV John, lest he imply something that wasn't. Just because he found the librarian pretty, something beautiful hidden in layers of ill-fitting clothing and comical glasses, didn't mean he was looking for something to happen between them. So he thought about her often, of course he would. He spent more and more time in the library, it was natural for her to become an important part of his life. And sure, he sometimes fantasised about her, wondering what her blue eyes would look like half-lidded and liquid, what her mouth and hair would feel like. But that just meant he was a healthy adult man with the accompanying urges.

He was sure Belle didn't see him that way anyway. She was lonely and was grateful for a friend and it was better to leave it at that. Women and him didn't mix well, at least not in the romantic sense. And there was something so... other, about her. Like she was somehow just out of his reach, like she belonged elsewhere. She was a fascinating friend, nothing more. Someone that made life a little bit more interesting, that cut through the dullness of his routine and made him look forward to things.

It didn't seem worth thinking about it at all, especially since he was too busy dealing with the rain and the town and the general madness that had taken over everyone. Too busy to think about much else or to pay attention to more mundane things. Too busy to be suspicious when Lachlan Sr left a bottle of fine Scotch on the station's doorstep, a gift for "May Day". And certainly too busy to notice the strange aftertaste of it. A few minutes later he was asleep to notice much of anything else.

"Kidnapping a police officer is serious business, Lachie, are you even sure it's gonna work?"

"Look, a police constable has got to be a good enough offering. Seems to have taken a liking to Macbeth in any case, it's worth a shot."

The voices faded away a bit after that and for a moment there was bliss in the silence. Though it was difficult to string thoughts together Hamish tried hard to piece what had happened to him. He raised his sluggish hands to his face, sensing something pressing against it. It felt hard, a mask of some sort, covering half of his face, with horns protruding from it. Everything else felt disturbingly bare, though his skin itched around his hips. Patting the area, he found that he was wearing some sort of kilt, new and stiff, like the ones sold at the local tourist gift shop.

His head felt heavy and light at the same time and everything around him seemed to be moving, spinning in dizzying circles. Whatever they had given him had his blood boiling and his adrenaline pumping, as if preparing for a fight or some other form of exertion. Though the woods must have been freezing he felt hot all over, either from the drugs or the bonfires surrounding him. Dimly he thought of the very real possibility one of them could end up burning the whole forest down. He tried standing up but his legs wobbled and soon dropped him on his ass, and even the thick wool of the damn tourist-trap kilt didn't help soften the blow, though he barely felt it. The almost pungent smell of rosemary wasn't helping his efforts to clear his head. Rather it seemed to numb him even more, till he could barely feel the horned mask that at first had been so fucking cumbersome.

At some point, he lay back down, humming in delight at the cool softness of the moss beneath him. It wasn't that bad, really, just a spot of involuntary camping. In the morning TV John would come pick him up, hopefully bringing some of his clothes with him, and he'd proceed to meticulously and ruthlessly ruin everything the Lachies and their cronies loved. Perhaps he could convince Agnes and Barney never to serve them anything stronger than Earl Grey for a month. It'd be fun to rub their noses on a cold pint of Guinness.

"Constable?"

It was unsettling, for a brief moment, to hear a voice after so much silence. He startled, hoisting himself up and moving his head to one side and then the other, as if the stag mask didn't completely blind him to everything around him. He tensed, suddenly aware of his vulnerability. He wished above all for his uniform, not because he was half-naked in the woods but because it brought him confidence, it made him feel almost invincible, like he was nothing he couldn't do, no problem he couldn't solve.

"Who's there?"

He felt a soft, almost whispery touch down his arm and then someone was taking his hand, helping him up. He stumbled upright like a new-born colt, or a man more than in his cups.

"Shh, it's alright. It's only me."

The scent of wildflowers reached his nose, making him instantly relax.

"Belle."

His owlish little librarian had tracked him down, thank God. At last the one sane person in the crazy fucking town he called home sweet home was there to end the madness. He tightened his hold on her small, delicate hand. She was such a wee thing, small and dainty. And she smelt so good...

"Constable? Constable!"

"Call me Hamish."

He was feeling incredibly mellow, all of a sudden. Happy. Like he didn't have the weight of an entire deluded town on his shoulders. Like he was wobbling semi-starkers in the middle of the bleeding woods because he felt like it and not because he had been fucking kidnapped in the middle of the night. Like he couldn't find better use for his fingers than ghosting them along the supple flesh of the librarian's inner arms.

"You don't seem alright, Hamish. Do you need help?"

Did he? A minute ago it seemed like it but now he was feeling perfect. Belle always had that pacifying-yet-electrifying effect on him, calming him down while at the same time filling him with a strange sort of restlessness. A bit like he was itching all over, eagerness humming softly through him, low but ever-present. He traced a path from her hands to her shoulders, frowning when he didn't encounter a scrap of fabric on the way.

"Did the little pricks drag you here too? Did they fucking undress you? Because I'll fucking kill them, cut them in teeny-tiny pieces and feed them to wee Jock if they did, I swear to-"

Her hands cupped the lower half of his faced, bared by the mask, and she pressed her thumbs softly over his lips, cutting off his diatribe.

"I'm here for you. Do you want me here, Hamish?"

On the back of his mind his skillfully-honed police instincts were screaming at him, telling him in no uncertain terms that something was off. But it was hard to find in himself to care. Everything smelled so good and Belle felt so soft under his hands. She no longer shied from his touch, no longer seemed interested in keeping that last bit of distance that was always between them. There was nothing to do but to nod enthusiastically and sigh when her fingers delved into his cropped hair.

"And what do you want me to do?"

His rational side, sputtering and on its last legs, supplied a long list of things. They needed to get him some clothes, douse the fucking fire and go home. Find out what the hell those little cunts had given him. Make them pay. But above all go home, and sleep this whole night off. Instead he found himself leaning forward and, blindly, kissing her. Far from pushing him away and slapping him, the sensible response, she pulled him closer, her arms wrapping around his naked shoulders and a mouth-watering little sigh escaping her lips. She took control almost at once and he let her, more than happy to allow her to completely devour him. She was almost feral, rough and bruising and completely fucking perfect. He clung to her as tightly as he could, splaying his hands across her thinly-covered back and letting out the neediest little moans he'd ever heard.

At some point, in between the savage kissing and the undignified groping, he found himself back again on the mossy forest floor, with Belle sucking on the spot where his right shoulder met his neck. He was too far gone by that point, barely noticing when kissing turn to biting and the tips of her nails began to carve patterns into his chest and arms. The pain only added to the euphoria of the moment, turned the pleasure bittersweet and heightened it at the same time. His clever fingers dipped low to feel her upper thighs, as smooth as marble and as cold as ever. When he stumbled across the hem of what felt like a sundress or a nightgown he pulled it up impatiently, managing to wrestle it off her without much problem. He was quick to claim his reward, moving his hands to grasp her hips, dip into her waist, flutter across her tummy and finally cup her breasts, as perfect as he'd often found himself picturing them beneath layers of shapeless clothing.

Abruptly Belle released him altogether and scampered away, giggling as he protested loudly. Instead of ripping the mask off to give chase he chose to let his hearing guide him, the sport warming his already hot blood and making him grin maniacally. They laughed like little kids as he clumsily hunted around for her, his fingers grazing skin or a lock of hair before she was out of his reach again. It felt as if she was almost guiding him somewhere, like a siren weaving her spell on a hopeless sailor. And he couldn't find it in himself to care.

Finally, he managed to hook an arm around her waist and send her crashing into his chest. She felt warmer, strangely, as if she'd drunk some of the heat in his veins from his lips, as if she was absorbing it from his skin and into hers. When she captured his mouth again he gave himself to her willingly, eagerly, raking his blunt nails down her sides and grabbing her by the back of her thighs, all the encouragement she needed to wrap her legs around his torso. The added weight made him stumble forward till something- a tree most likely- broke their fall. Propping her up against it he found it easier to manoeuvre the tip of one of her breasts into his mouth. Her hiss of delight made his cock twitch in eager anticipation.

She was divine. Small and dainty but fierce and completely in control, taking from him what he was only too eager to give. Her hands did not tremble as they undid the buckles of his ridiculous kilt, nor when they grasped his erection, guiding it to the entrance of her sex.

"Do you offer yourself to me, Hamish?"

Fuck, she was talking. It took him a moment or two to try and make sense of what she'd said, at which point all he could do was nod enthusiastically, groaning in utter relief as she allowed his cock to sink into the heavenly warmth of her cunt. It felt as if a shock passed through him, something powerful and unsettling. But a moment later he was thrusting into her, his ears ringing with her mewls and delightful cries. Every one of his senses was full of her, his skin prickling all over with an awareness of her that was almost uncanny. The moment seemed to stretch for hours, as impossible as that was, and Hamish could've sworn dawn was breaking when he finally felt her flutter around his cock, bringing him finally to release.

A minute later, or several, he found himself somehow back on the clearing in the forest, the bonfires dimmed to nothing but burning coals and Belle wrapped snugly against him.

"You've pleased me well, my King. Now rest, darling, rest. It's all done now."

"Rough night, eh, Hamish?"

Constable Macbeth was greeted by an array of jeers and catcalls. He stoically pretended not to hear any of it, making a show of talking to TV John to make it clear he was not paying attention. Barney greeted him with a pint of beer and a slap of the back.

"It's on the house, lad. You took one for the team, it's the least we could do."

Never in all his years in service had Barney given him as much as a glass of water on the house. The gesture itself left him too speechless to reply. On the booth next to him TV John whistled, impressed.

"That's a first."

Hamish could scarcely take the first sip of his glass before someone else vigorously clapped his back, making the scratches there sting like hell. One by one it seemed every man in Lochdubh was dead-set on showing him some gesture of male camaraderie and, strangely, sympathy. They brought with them snacks, cigars and other small gifts.

"It must have not been easy, but you pushed on and came through." Lachlan Sr patted his shoulder forcefully, making him bite back a howl when his hand made contact with the bite mark there. "It's all over now, lad, you did good."

He shot him one last pitiful look before ambling back to his seat to high-five his son, who flashed Hamish a thumb's up when their eyes crossed.

"Fucking barmy. What do they think, that they can butter me up and I'll pretend they didn't kidnap and drug a police officer?"

"Well, the way they see it your impressive manhood appeased the cailleach and saved the town. Quite a feat, really."

"Don't tell me you believe those sods too. The rain had to stop, it just happened to coincide with the day after my unwilling nature walk. And with the rain over of course all the little critters start to reappear, there's nothing fucking supernatural about it. And what the hell is a cailleach?"

"A hag. Vengeful spirits that can take the form of old crones, or ugly women. So, you see, the way they see it you just made a great sacrifice for this town. It certainly calls for a bit of buttering up, some well-deserved pampering at the least."

"What?!"

"Well, it was Lachie Jr that figured it out and you know his reading comprehension only gets him so far. No sense in trying to explain the nuances of Celtic folklore to him or anyone else that listened to him, the complex nature of spirits and deities. I tried, believe me, but nobody wanted to listen. It's all most complicated than that, you know?"

The door of the pub swung open and though Hamish had his back to it he could immediately tell who had walked through it. He nodded distractedly at TV John, making a vague sound to signal he was engrossed in the conversation even as his eyes and most of his attention, focused on her.

"Well, hags are complicated figures in lore. Some say kind, guardian spirits and vengeful hags are but two sides of the same coin. There are tales of deities turned into hags to wander amongst mankind, ignored and ill-treated. A test of worthiness, sometimes said to be passed by men in possession of a kind heart and a noble spirit, who'll prove worthy. This later became a very common figure in medieval literature, that of the loathly lady, made famous by Chaucer in his tale..."

"Belle."

She was dressed very differently than usual, a royal blue short dress paired with sky-high heels and not a cardigan or a coat in sight, though she appeared not to feel the cold. Her glasses were gone too and her hair shone just like he remembered it doing under the light of the bonfires in the forest. Her eyes, however, looked the same as they'd always been. Bright blue and overly curious, as if the world and everything in it was new to her.

"Hamish."

Suddenly he felt like a sodding pre-teen with his first crush, completely clueless. Thankfully the librarian seemed not to suffer from the same problem, looping her arms loosely about his neck and planting her lips firmly on his, a gentle kiss with a playful hint of tongue, that, embarrassingly, turned the tips of his ears red. Around him everyone was suddenly deadly quiet, not even the sound of clinking glass to be heard. Briefly glancing around he noticed the wide-eyed stares of everyone in the pub, including a rather delighted Esme and Flora, the town's main source of gossip (and knitted scarves). The Lachies were both gaping at him, their mouths almost comically open. Beside them Reverend Snow crossed himself, which Hamish thought was a bit much.

"Miss Caill... there's something different about you. New haircut?"

The librarian smiled, and for a second there was something faintly dangerous about her, not altogether human. A moment later it was gone. The constable blinked and took a swig of his ale, cursing himself for letting the craziness of the town get to him for a second. Gnomes and fairies and Scottish deities, what a load of rubbish.

"So kind of you to notice, John. How's that book on the Opium Wars going for you? I thought it was a fascinating read."

Soon both the older Scotsman and Belle were engrossed in a discussion. Too tired still to contribute Hamish contented himself with letting Belle lean on him, his arm around her waist and her hands toying with his shorn hair. When her fingers grazed the bite-mark she'd made he shivered, feeling heat pull on his lower stomach.

May Day hadn't turned out so bad after all.

#bellish #applejackcat #anyelle #mayday menagerie

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