#yet in “431” we get nothing like that?

[angy-grrr]

Lets get it straight:

Some ppl spamming Horikoshi's tweets are not actual Japanese ppl, but wrote it in Japanese so he would understand what they are saying (Japanese fandom tends to dislike leaks).

I have seen the 38 pages from a completely different account that seemed pretty random, one of those that says "ill delete in an hour" which has happened before; the most convincing thing about this is the amount of pages and how it looks at first glance pretty legit, with complex details but badly executed.

Besides the art looking pretty empty -there is just one slightly more detailed background, but its a small space and the rest has minimal effort to make it look like its a city- we need to keep in mind this could not be changed; in weekly released, some stuff changes as they are still working on things before a official release the chapter online, but this time we are talking about the publication of the volume. If we are supposed to believe these are real leaks, then it would just literally look like that. Empty. The other solution, in this hypothetical example, would be that these are old drafts or the first ones, but it doesnt make sense to me personally as the mistakes cant be just fixed adding more ink -you need to errase many parts.

Many things look dirty, not because of it being a leak -as you said, this is a weirdly clean full release- but because they add too much shadows in places that dont make that much sense. It also looks like multiple separate ppl worked on it, instead of being a clear teamwork where everyone has a particular job (like a messy group project).

At the same time two different pictures depicting the same scene with different qualities and styles were released. Small details like the suitcase, the seats, the seatbelts look pretty different, along with the drawing style. I dont remember if the person who showed the "full leaks" used both or just the right one, but its still weird that we have just two completely different formats (left one looks like it was a scan even with a watermark, and the right one is completely digital).

Hands weren't great, and many mistakes typical for artists happened but as we know, Horikoshi is the king of drawing hands, specially meaningful ones.

Some ppl are saying hj hsrs that horikoshi could just be taking revenge on SJ for not letting him make the actual ending he wanted, so he ended anything ppl could enjoy (no villains, no bkdk hero partners, no dadmight, no dadzawa, no hopeful message, no actual romantic handhold nor declaration of feelings...) but idk if he would do something like that and at the same time work with so much care in the redraws for the volume.

That reminds me, we supposedly got a full extra chapter, 38 pages, but we didnt get the leaks for all the redraws? As far as I know there are still more panels not revealed, and again, the volume is ready, in a few days ppl will be able to buy it.

The comments the leakers made feel so wrong to me... how this was so VERY WELL drawn and cute... when its empty, lacks emotional building and has so many drawing errors unlikely to happen with the high quality of the art. The whole Deku just beat all allegations, all of them... like making fun of shippers/ppl who like to hc him as queer? idk, its really weird.

A part of me believes it could be true -there are many pages and many complicated things to introduce like the suitcases that become hero suits- but at the same time this looks so bad, and goes against everything this whole series is about. How could this shit be approved, while working on making the other pages look even better? How could we just ignore the plus ultra message the last time? This isnt extra random content, this is a new chapter, 431. Where is it? where's bnha? this is a dj to hate on everyone while trying to keep it "realistic enough" to pass as real.

What if it's confirmed these aren't real pages and we've been upset over some fanart???

Like this looks like hori's old art style (or in some panels not at all like his art??) Like here's his re-draw of that one Deku scene compared to a scene in the epilogue

like??? He's had so much time to work on it,so why would it look like his old art style? Especially if we can expect to see THAT (on the right) in the same volume??? Something is fishy here.

like the only people confirming this is real/cannon are leakers,and even some of the Japanese fandom is confused/upset about this. I haven't seem any of the official announcements for this,and a TON of the pages are missing. Like they're meant to be 30+and there's only like what the same ten going around?

If these were leaks they wouldn't be so high quality and they would,y'know,look like hori's art style? I know I said some of it looked ai generated,and I still do think some panels do,but this really feels like a different manga.

Story and art wise this feels empty and disconnected from the series. Like it's the exact opposite of what happened in 430. Like Hori decided that he hated Katsuki and forgot all about literally everything to do with Izuku and Katsuki's relationship?

He said he didn't want a naruto ending,but he decided to give us one in the epilogue??? He said he wanted an ending like heroes rising,so he decided to contradict the whole damn movie for this epilogue????

Nothing makes sense about this. I have hope this isn't official,but honestly I'm starting to give up on Hori,and I don't like that. I always trusted him to write what he wanted,but what I've seen and read doesn't seem like Horikoshi's,it's not mha. It feels like a dudebro wrote this.

Like Izuku is so emotionless in this. It's empty. He's empty. And I'm supposed to believe this guy drew all of THIS and decided to go back on all of it with a few pages????

this is just SOME of the recent stuff. So why the sudden change?

I really don't think this epilogue is going to be official,I HOPE it isn't,but I haven't much of a reason to think Hori wrote/drew this horse shit. Besides leakers saying so. And I don't really trust them very much,so I don't really have any reasons to think this is cannon.

But only time will tell.

[fourseasonsfigs]

Bazaar - Hiding from Daipai

I dearly love each and every Bazaar photo shoot fig set I have - there is no limit to the number I would buy! So imagine my delight when a clever fig maker decided to immortalize this (technically) off-camera moment!

The inspiration comes from a video taken by a very enterprising daipai. A daipai, if you're not familiar with the term - and I wasn't either, until this fandom - is basically paparazzi for hire. They will follow celebrities to get pictures of them to sell, and also will sell their picture-taking services to fan sites.

Here, they were sneaking shots of Zhang Zhehan and Gong Jun. Gong Jun is famously eagle eyed for catching daipai and fan photographers, wherever they are hidden, but this time Zhehan spots the photographer first, since he is facing towards them. Gong Jun is posing for the camera in the exact opposite direction.

This fades out at the end, but I've seen a longer version of this at one point too. Junjun wasn't very happy with this daipai - he looked away very pointedly. It's not easy being a celebrity, no matter what anyone says!

I wasn't sure if the balcony railing would be sent in a different box or how they would do that, but it was sized to fit in one of the boxes.

Here they are! Zhehan's fan isn't removable - it came that way. Neither is Junjun's, for that matter.

Paparazzi certainly aren't loved for the way they invade people's privacy, so the truly epic frown on Junjun's face is fantastic. You know I like smiling figs, but this is just so perfect here. I love it!

I love, love, love the blue streak in Zhehan's hair. His whole Bazaar hair style, for that matter. And Zhehan did too, given that he set a picture from the shoot as his Instagram pic. I also love the moon symbol on Junjun's shirt, which echos the complementary star on Zhehan's. You can't see the star yet, but you will as we rotate around!

Neither of them would stand on their own at all. I got a bunch of figs in this ocean shipment, and I swear a good half of them don't stand! The fig standees are pretty essential, really.

Ahaha, it's been a while, but you can see we are back to the typical Zhehan and Gong Jun fig proportions. Zhehan curvy, Junjun slim.

Love Zhehan's gold studded belt here!

Zhehan's hair is really my favorite in this style.

Look at it, the ponytail is so cute!

There's Zhehan's star on his chest! It's a little hard to see, but it's there.

The choice to put Junjun in fingerless gloves was masterful. I know they're a bit hard to see in the video, but there's these big chunky buckles at the wrist which are very cool. Junjun's hands are very elegant in the black leather - very long and beautiful, and the heavy buckles both highlight and complement how they look.

And we're back around, this time with the railing! Junjun sure looks a little like he's contemplating smacking someone in the head with the fan, doesn't he?

As you can see here, the fig stands fit perfectly underneath it with no problem at all. Looks a little silly, but there's nothing to be done at all about it, since they won't stand up otherwise.

Well. I mean, I know exactly what I'm going to do about it, which is to order a long and thin single standee, and stick them both to it, and have it slightly more hidden behind the rail.

Junjun makes me laugh - his pose with the fan really does look like he's thinking some thoughts!

Every angle of that ponytail is adorable!

As you saw from the earlier unboxing photo, the set came with a bonus add-on of a magnet. My file cabinet is half full on one side now from all my magnets!

The delightful matching artwork on the boxes. I get plain white boxes so much with the resin figs that it's always nice to get the PVC ones for the fancier boxes!

Material: PVC

Fig Count: 431

Scene Count: 29 (I don't think a balcony rail counts)

Rating: Two fans are better than one!

[link back to Master Fig Index for more posts]

[imperiuswrecked]

I loathe fandom magnet fam. 😒😒😒 So much of it is like watching an episode of the Simpsons. Like a bad sitcom. (via @hellspeed )

I’m putting this it’s own separate post because wow do I have things to say about Fanon Magnet Family. It’s not imo as bad as Fanon Bat Family but it has it’s very terrible takes and I want to rant about it.

1. Lorna is Daddy’s Little Girl.

Disgusting. This imo has 100% has to do with Wolverine & the X-Men cartoon that features this very Princess in Need of rescue Lorna and her father the King of Mutants. Lorna was confirmed to be Magneto’s daughter in Uncanny X-Men (1963) #431. That’s literally DECADES after her first appearance. The way Fandom has reduced her to being Magneto’s daughter and not her own character annoys me. However I will ask @salarta who knows way more about Lorna than I do to weigh in on this if they want.

2. Wanda is the good twin, Pietro is the bad twin.

Every time I see this, I literally want to rage. Like fuck that, you can’t just label one as good and the other as bad. I love Wanda with all my heart but she is just as flawed as Pietro and isn’t perfect.

3. Wanda is oppressed by her twin brother!

I will BURN every single copy of that Scarlet Witch Solo. I literally hate how writers constantly use Pietro in a creepy overprotective misogynistic writing so that Wanda can have her “GIRLBOSS” moment for standing up for herself. Did you all forgot it was literally Pietro doing whatever his sister wanted to do? He wanted to leave the Brotherhood before her but stayed because Wanda felt she owed Magneto for him saving her.

4. The Wanda only stans.

Listen, I do not say this much but those fans who are ONLY here for Wanda and constantly reduce Pietro to that trope in no. 3. I do not interact with them at all. I get you might have a favored character but Pietro & Wanda are a set. Do not separate. You either love both or you aren’t allowed to have any takes on them.

5. Magneto was right.

No, the fuck he was not. Magneto is a man with a shit ton of issues and he isn’t right about everything and it’s so fucking annoying to see fans think Magneto can do nothing wrong. I love a character doing war crimes as much as the next person but honestly, Magneto killed his own son. Magneto murdered people. Pietro has the right to not forgive Magneto for a ton of stuff and yet it’s always handwaved away with “Magneto was Right”.

6. Pietro is in love with his twin sister

Can we NOT make this into incest? Can we please for ONCE acknowledge the fact that platonic/family/friend relationships can be JUST as emotional and devastating as romantic ones? Thankfully this seems to have died down in recent years but I literally hate how Ultimates made it a thing just to be edgy and fans went with it. 

7. The Happy Family

God, what comics have you been reading? They are so messy and dysfunctional and I love that. I understand wanting fluff fics and arts and I die over them too but like, it really puts me off to have this weird “everyone is happy, and Cherik is main ship” pop up into literally any Magnet Family stuff.

At this point I know there is more fanon out there that I dislike but I can’t remember because I’m mentally spent, but I want to ask @esteicy-blog @teal-bandit @allwillbeone and anyone else to add more if they want.

[insomniac-dot-ink]

The Long Bus Ride

Genre: supernatural horror

Words: 5.6k

Summary: When her late night bus stops in the middle of a rolling fog cloud Frieda starts to worry. Then she starts seeing words being written in the condensation on her window and she truly gets unnerved.

A group of strangers must now try to get through the night as something seems to be outside.

content warning: body horror

---------

The bus was mostly empty that evening. That was typical with rising fares and the fact most people would have tried to be home hours ago. It was too early for the late night party crowd and too late for the normal working crowd.

The bus driver was a big guy named Ted, I knew him by his portly size and baby-smooth clean shaven face. He had youthful thick brown hair grown a little long probably for vanity’s sake and a large pot belly that sagged over the shiny tight black belt around his waist.

He always nodded at me when I got on and always stopped for people when they were running to catch the 431. He wasn’t always on time like the other bus driver-- Nory, but he also honked his horn a little less than him too.

I flashed my bus pass at Ted that evening with our usual nod and a lingering achy bitterness settling in my core. Deirdre’s daughter had come to visit again that afternoon and there was always too much nasty energy in the house on those days. I liked to keep things neat, both personally and professionally. I kept my purse organized into tiny pockets and my clothes sorted in bins by season and I never mentioned anything personal at my job.

Everything had its place, but it was harder to be politely indifferent to the household when they were throwing barbed words at each and asking my opinion. It bothered me to have to be anything other than “day nurse Frieda” to them. It blurred our relationship when they turned to me and said “tell my mother she needs to finalize her will” and so on.

Of course, Deirdre should and did need to finalize her will, but expressing that broke far too many boundaries in a messy way. 

I was ready to be home an hour ago by the time I walked to the bus stop with the sun already carefully nestled behind the city skyline. The purple of a gloomy summer night was heavy across the horizon and I didn’t even both to check my phone watch. I knew my Friday night was almost already over.

My feet ached as I turned to walk down the aisle of the 431 bus headed to Oakland. My chin was sinking toward my chest like a balloon tug insistently downward by a toddler. An older man sat near the front.

He was a skinny, wiry man with a thick mustache and clothes with spots of what I hoped was motor oil on his patterned button-up and workman pants. He wore heavy boots and watched me with small eyes under enormous eyebrows that could have probably watched me as well for the sheer size of them. He had no bags or anything with him and he sat like there was a drill sergeant ready to bark at him if he so much as slouched a little.

No one else sat in the seats near the front designated for the elderly and pregnant. The seats themselves were blue and yellow with party designs on them like you might see at a tacky bowling alley. It was an older bus that hadn’t even been upgraded to “green” standards yet and rumbled like a thunder storm wherever it went.

In the middle seats was a mother and child. She was a middle-aged black woman with long beaded braids tied back in a ponytail and wore a bright pink shirt and a slouchy pair of comfortable looking jeans. Her daughter looked around 9 or 10 and had her hair pulled back in a tight bun at the top of her head. She wore a hoodie over what looked like leggings and carried a sports bag with her.

The mother was probably picking her up from something like ballet practice. The daughter was leaning on the mom while she absently stroked her head and looked out the window. Something about the easy intimacy of it made me look away quickly.

One seat up and across from the mother and daughter was a gently snoring man. He had a wild beard, knit cap, and fingerless gloves. I could tell by the smell alone that he was homeless and had probably been sleeping on the bus for hours now. However, I had smelled worse and his jacket and jeans weren’t as grungy or disheveled as they could have been.

Two other people sat in the back, but luckily neither of them had claimed the final spot in the corner of the bus near the window. A young woman was one chair ahead of my seat, a short white girl who looked around college age. I wrinkled my nose at her because she was holding a paper cup with what I assumed was coffee and her hands were shaking.

She had on a long skirt with mud splotches at the bottom and a pale blue shirt with a mustard stain on the front. Her long auburn hair was tied back into a ratty knot at the back of her neck. She had on huge glasses dangerously close to the edge of her nose and she was staring out the window with the look of someone trying to count the yellow street lines and failing.

Across from her in the other corner of the bus was a high-school aged looking young man with a huge bag blocking the seat next to him. He was Asian with ink-black hair that he had spiked, and wore all black with dark ripped jeans and a band t-shirt. His ears were covered by silver earrings draped over the lobes like angry criss-crossing Christmas decorations.

He had a tattoo of what appeared to be a wing on his neck and smeared eyeliner around his indifferent gaze. He was wearing small earbuds and listening to something with an audible thrumming base.

I ignored both the messy girl and the punk boy as I took my seat and got out my book for the forty minute ride home. It was another pirate romance story-- which my sister recommended because she assumed she knew my taste. The action scenes were fine, but the actual tension between the main couple was blase at best.

I had to make sure no one sat behind me during my bus rides home though because I didn’t need anyone looking over my shoulder and finding the words “he touched my wet throbbing womanhood.” To say the least, the erotic parts of the novels were not that good either.

It was better than scrolling my phone right then though. I hated work emails more than I hated mud trailed onto the carpet in my house or slow-walkers on the sidewalk.

I peeked out the windows sometimes to get a look at the city as the street lights and building lights and headlights erupted one by one in a pale cascade. We were getting closer to the Oakland Bay bridge and the lights threaded along the beams like spiderwebs of frantic energy all captured and blooming at once. I had an affection for the city despite being trapped there.

I hadn’t actually come to California to be a geriatric nurse again. I already spent ten years working as one in Louisiana when an old college friend had called me up and asked if I wanted to join his startup. It sounded like a fairy tale: join an up and coming tech company and watch as you get boosted past “middle class” into something glamorous and decadent. Kitt knew me and knew I was good with people and offered to let me run the PR department.

Of course, I hadn’t joined for the money or the fact I was that interested in PR. I had been working in a nursing home for almost a decade by then and it had started to wear on me. I liked listening to people, especially people who were made of stories, and the job had originally suited me fine. But there was this… shadow over it all that started to eat at me.

A shadow of loss, of empty words, empty places where a sharp mind used to be, empty reassurances that meant nothing, brief glimpses of grief so intense that it split people in two. That shadow loomed larger and larger the longer I stayed. It chased me as my favorite grandma’s hands started to shake and my favorite patient stopped being able to play piano. I saw it in how some of them stopped meeting my eyes when the months dragged on and their time was coming. I saw in the way they stopped remembering my name or their own.

No. I didn’t want to work as an elderly care nurse any longer.

Of course, I was also 33 and single, and a change sounded good. So I moved all the way across the country, got the smallest apartment I had ever lived in, and dared to be a little bold. I wore brighter colors, spoke out more in meetings, cooked spicier foods, I went on dates with women for the first time.

But all good things come to an end. Most startups don’t make it, no matter how many twitter algorithms you try to “hack.”

I looked out the window and ignored my phone as it buzzed. There were other reasons I didn’t check my phone on the bus as well. Cynthia still wanted to meet now and then-- to see if we could make it work after all. I ignored the buzz.

I was lost to the erotic adventures of a very loud and very incompetent heroine when I heard a soft gasp come from in front of me. I usually had a rule of ignoring everyone else on public transport, but there was something about the sharp surprised sound that made me look up.

We were on the bridge now and it was damp and dark out. I blinked a couple times as I noticed a thick cloud seeming to descend. Fog was all but normal in San Francisco so I decided to go back to reading my book.

A small murmur passed between the daughter and mother in the middle of the bus, “it’s alright…” 

I looked up again and the cloud was quickly eating up the view and making the road ahead look shrouded and strange. Cars around us had already turned on their headlights and I could almost feel the bus slowing down as visibility ahead quickly disappeared.

I wrinkled my brow. I didn’t know much about weather, but we usually only saw fog like this in the mornings. I looked to the other side of the road and noticed that I didn’t see any cars coming toward us.

“Look mom,” I heard a small voice say and the little girl was pointing out toward the ocean. I tried to look out the window and make out the sea too, but only saw that same thick white. It was dense and shapeless around us and the bus was slowing down further.

“Where are the lights?” I snapped my head around and the punk kid had taken his earbuds out. His face was even more stony than before and his eyes were narrowed toward where the bridge would be. 

I set my jaw as I realized I didn’t see any of the glowing yellow lights that should be at least breaking through parts of the fog. Even worse, I checked ahead of us and behind, I had never known the Oakland bridge to ever be empty.

There were no more cars on either side of us.

I gulped. The bus was almost at a standstill.

“Hey!” The messy college girl holding the coffee called up from the back. “What’s going on?”

“Yeah, what’s the meaning of this? We’ve all got places to be.” The working class man stood up at the front.

Ted the driver didn’t turn around and there was something about his figure that sat wrong.

“Where the fuck are the lights?” The punk kid was standing up now and craning his neck to look outside.

“Excuse me, sir, is there a problem?” The mother had dragged her daughter into her lap and the little girl was looking directly out the window at something with the utmost focus.

I shifted uncomfortably in place and watched the scene unfold. Something cold was trailing down my spine. I liked to keep things neat, and this felt like it was about to pick up my wardrobe and dump it outside onto my muddy lawn.

A couple voices kept demanding to know why we had stopped, and the homeless man somehow kept dozing. “Ooh,” the little girl touched the window and suddenly my eyes were drawn back to my own window.

The fog was dense to the point of nothingness, and beyond the fog seemed to be an even thicker night. I furrowed my brow and drew back into myself. Condensation was gathering on the other side of the window-- the type you might see when your warm breath touches glass.

A thin layer of white was spreading across the window and then I saw what the young girl was “oohing” at.

“Everyone, step back from the windows.” I heard myself saying, reasonably, in as a controlled manner as I could.

Little droplets had now formed on the other side of the glass and the white haze was thick and tangible. That’s not why I jumped back though. A perfectly formed fingerprint was pressed into the condensation there. A clear oval that was dragging down, down, down the window and creating one long, straight line.

There was nothing behind that finger. There was no body or hand or anything attached at all. Only the imprint that was meticulously drawing downward.

“What the fuck?!” The punk kid scrambled back from his window as well.

“What’s going on?” The college student said in a panic as more little finger tips pressed against the glass. Hands, but not hands. My heart squeezed in my chest and a flurry of possibilities went through my head: I was in a coma, I was asleep, I was asleep in a coma. I was dead.

I was dead and hell is a bus ride.

“Ah!” I jerked my head around again and saw the old man in heavy work pants standing by the front with his mouth wide and eyes as round as silver dollars. He was staring at the bus driver in the way one stares at their parents declaring a divorce.

“Ted…” I muttered and forced myself forward. I wrapped my hands around the bus poles with each step and the metal was almost freezing at each touch. I stumbled across the long space.

“Mommy, what is it?” The window next to the little ballerina was absolutely covered in those floating strokes carefully applied by invisible fingers. They were drawing spirals and zig-zags and something that I dearly hoped wasn’t a letter of the alphabet.

I made my way past the sleeping homeless man who still managed not to wake and all the way to the front of the bus where the old man was staring at Ted.

“He’s-He’s--” He stuttered at me and fell back against a metal pole next to the door. 

“It’s alright, I’m a nurse.” I took a deep steadying breath. I had seen corpses plenty of times in my life and I knew how to keep myself focused on the tasks in front of me. Ted was slumped over and unmoving.

I reached for his arm first and picked up his limp wrist. I exhaled the second I reached his pulse and felt a faint thrum there. His skin was clammy and far too cold, but he was breathing. “Don’t look at the eyes.” The old man grabbed my shoulder. “Don’t look!”

I was never very good at averting my eyes when facing car crashes or jump scares in horror movies. He had a pulse. I needed to check for head injuries. I glanced at his face. Something was dripping down his cheeks in a steady flow.

I reached and tipped his chin up. I swallowed my scream before it could escape. His eyes were gummed shut with something black and bubbling. It was like tar that held both of his eyelids clamped closed and water was leaking out of the seams.

Droplets beaded down his cheeks and when I let his head fall again it leaked like rain down upon his lap. I stopped myself from heaving at the sight and looked downward. His foot was still on the gas, but we weren’t moving forward.

“Let’s go.” I ushered the old man away from Ted’s body. Something told me we shouldn’t touch it or be too close to it. We retreated back toward the other seats.

“E,” the little girl was tracing a letter in the condensation. Something outside was writing the letter E and then another letter next to it. “N.”

I walked down the center of the bus in a daze and the others looked at me. The disheveled college student stumbled toward us. “Is the driver alright?” I just shook my head and couldn’t find the words to explain that one of us was surely dreaming up a nightmare. 

The punk kid was sitting in the center of the back seats clutching his bag to his chest and his earbuds were back in.

“Little girl.” A voice barked. I turned and suddenly I noticed that the homeless man had sat up and his clear blue eyes were darting around the space frantically. “Don’t touch the windows.” His voice was deep and smoke-beaten. “Again, again, again.” He repeated, “Don’t touch. Again.”

I looked back to the shapes being drawn in the window panes. 

They were impossibly strange, but no sounds came from the drag of their fingers. In fact, I didn’t pick up any noises from the city at all: no honking, no sirens, no hums of life. I groped for the right words to try to make sense of this.

“Little girl!” The homeless man said sharply and he looked toward the closest window. “Don’t.” “Sheryl…” Her mother warned, but the little girl, Sheryl, kept tracing the letters the Things were drawing.

I watched in a trance, “T.” She said softly. “E.” I was watching the tip of her finger move when I caught the first glimpse.

My whole body froze like a jolt of ice pouring down my spine. Just beyond the invisible hand was a face submerged in the fog-- faint and shifting. It was hard to make out, but two black eyes drooped like runny eggs down it’s sunken cheeks and a mouth grotesquely frozen in a scream took shape for just a moment.

I grabbed for the mother, “everyone!” I found the energy to fill my words with urgency, “get away from the windows!” They all looked to me and I mustered every bit of my authority, “NOW!”

Reluctant shuffling followed. “Wait!” Sheryl protested as her mom picked her up and carried her to the center of the bus. “Wait!” She repeated, “it wasn’t finished.”

The fingers outside became more frantic as we retreated into the center of the bus as far away from the windows as we could get. They clawed and dragged and I could make out more and more faces, some with three fingers and some with seven. Faint outlines of the hands and faces morphed and danced just out in the darkness.

They never stood still or seemed to stop shifting and twisting as if unnaturally alive.

A shudder went through the small group as we huddled together like penguins being accosted by the arctic breeze. The punk boy was the last to reach us as he clung to his huge bag and entered the loose circle we created.

The old man was shifty-eyed and looked the most on edge. I kept an eye on him, as well as the homeless man who was hunched over into himself. “Again,” he muttered to himself. “Again.” The moments after we gathered were long and strained before anyone dared to speak and break the ghastly immense silence. “Something was wrong with the driver,” the old man finally announced as he looked to the fingers, “something is wrong here.” “Very wrong.” The college student echoed.

“Duh,” The pink kid said back with his teeth clenched.

“Perhaps it will be over soon.” I added softly, mostly speaking to myself.

“What’s everyone’s names?” I looked up as the homeless man finally broke himself upright again.

“What? Why?” The old man practically growled.

“Everyone here has got to have a name.” The homeless man’s blue eyes were still frantic and traveling faster than I thought they should back and forth across the space. “Got to have a name.”

“How do we know that will--” “Angela.” The mother spoke up. “And this is Sheryl. Have you seen this before?” She looked to him as if he must often see buses descend into hell before.

“I’m Rick.” He said without hesitating, “Angela, Sheryl,” he pointed to the college student as if to pose a question.

“Laura.” She said softly. Her hands were still shaking, but probably for different reasons now.

“Angela, Sheryl, Laura,” Rick almost sang and then prompted the old man to speak.

“I’m Drew.” The old man said hesitantly after a moment.

“And I’m Frieda.” I added as the punk kid spoke as well.

“I’m Jinu.” 

A silence spread and I didnt know what I expected to happen from swapping names with a group of strangers. Sheryl was frowning deeply. She whispered, “We shouldn’t have left where they can see us.”

That made me look back to the people I was stuck with and I opened my mouth to ask Sheryl if she was alright.

Bring

We jumped as one when a sudden and angry sound crackled and shook the space. 

Bring, bring

It was like the sound of an old phone back from the 90s. A classic, angry noise that ate up the whole area with its loud buzzing undertone.

Bring!

I felt my pocket and felt something vibrating there.

“It’s our phones…” Jinu said in a hush.

My phone was ringing. And I knew we were being hailed.

Bring, bring, bring

I felt sick.

Laura was the first to dig out her phone from her bright yellow purse and hold it in her hands.

Bring, bring

The iphone vibrated and almost shook its way out of her hands. It’s screen was completely black and something, something was making it ring. “What’s,” I couldn’t contain the question any longer. “What’s causing this?” No one answered me. Drew took out his phone next, a first generation android it looked like with a cracked screen that was just as black as the last one. Slowly, everyone except for Rick, extracted our phones and watched as they made the same cry together over and over again: bring, bring, bring, bring, bring.

I stared into the shiny black surface of mine. It was perfectly smooth and almost… too dark. A dark I had never seen before and reflected nothing back. It felt like it was eating the light up.

“Maybe,” Laura spoke up. “Maybe we could call the police.”

“It’s a little late for that honey.” Angela said with a forlorn sigh.

“Why are they ringing?” I asked dumbly.

“We shouldn’t answer.” Jinu growled and tossed his phone all the way to the other side of the bus.

Rick nodded, “Do. Not. Answer.” “But…” I frowned deeply. “We can’t stay here.” “We can’t answer either.” Rick said in his same husky, withered tone. Drew nodded and threw his phone away, I followed suit mostly to stop looking at the shiny blackness of the screen. Angela seemed to almost break hers as she chucked it away as well, and Laura was the last one. She gripped it tightly and looked up.

“What do you think those are?” She finally voiced our fears and looked back to the fingers and morphed faces. “Are they… are they what’s calling us?” I shrugged, “does it matter?” I glared, “we can’t risk it. Throw it away.” “What happened to the driver?” Laura whispered and I just shook my head. She threw her phone away.

We all looked at each other carefully, and then we waited.

--------

Time ticked by with an anonymous meaningless face. On some level I think most of us expected to wake up soon, or for the sun to rise or to have God yelled “pranked!” from somewhere up in the sky. At least, that’s what I was waiting for.

The bus was still, just as cold and faceless as before, immobile as it had ever been. Alone in the middle of the bridge and alone in no place at all. I had a switch knife I carried around that I now held in my clenched fists and the world stood still.

Empty, except for the constant, unending sound of the phones: bring, bring, bring. They chorused and buzzed on the other side of the bus as we huddled in the center. It was endless. People did what they could to distract themselves from their impossible voices. 

Jinu put his headphones back in and turned them all the way up. Laura covered her ears with both hands and rocked back and forth in a ball. Rick gazed unseeingly up at the ceiling with a deep frown on his face. Drew was drawing something on his palm as if doing math equations on his skin.

I distracted myself by talking to the mother and daughter. “You want to be a prima ballerina when you grow up?” I asked softly as I watched Sheryl’s small face. Angela was still stroking her daughter’s head and holding her close as the minutes ticked by.

Bring, bring

“I want to dance in The Swan Lake,” she said factually. “I’m not good enough yet, but I will be.” I beamed. “I believe you.”

Bring, bring

“What do you do?” Angela asked and there was something forced about it.

“Nurse.” I said simply. “Though I came here for an app startup of all things.” 

“Oh?”

Bring, bring, bring I wasn’t usually one for idle-chit-chat, but a damp coldness was working its way through my chest. I had already noticed that Laura was shivering fiercely.

“Yeah, we were going to change the world or something he said,” I rolled my eyes, “but it didn’t turn out that way of course.”

“What kind of app was it?” Sheryl was still looking to her window, but she seemed present enough. 

“Oh, a ride sharing one. It was supposed to be a public minded service called ‘Democracy Bus.’ It was meant to help people get to the polls on voting days for free or get to civil rally's or debate parties,” I shook my head. “It never got off the ground.” Angela opened her mouth to respond, but seemed to be drained of some force within her.

Bring, bring

“That settles it.” Drew stood up with a hardened look on his face. “If I run I might make it to the other side of the bridge in a few minutes.” He nodded, “we were more than halfway to the other side by the time we stopped.”

We openly stared at the old man. Jinu took his headphones out, and Laura uncurled herself. Rick kept looking at the ceiling.

Bring, bring, bring

My mouth became a hard line, “We don’t want to let any of those things in here…” I whispered.

Drew dusted himself off, “I only need someone to pull the door open for a second. And beside,” his lips curled up, “we can’t exactly stay here and starve.” My skin prickled and I didn’t mention the fact I hadn’t felt hungry since the moment we stopped. I hadn’t felt thirsty either, or anything at all. Just cold. And damp.

“We’re not going out there.” Angela hissed first. “It’s too much of a risk.” She held her daughter tighter to her.

“Does anyone else have any ideas then?” Drew seethed. We were quiet.

Bring, bring

“Maybe we should answer one.” Laura said again, “just to see what happens.” She cocked her head to the side, “maybe they’ll let us go.”

“That sounds like an even worse idea than his.” Jinu said flatly.

“Don’t. Answer. The. Phones.” Rick finally joined the conversation and haltingly declared.

“Why not?” Drew narrowed his eyes icily, “What do you know?” Rick looked back up to the ceiling and set his jaw. Drew took a menacing step toward him, “What does he know?!”

“Oh,” Sheryl pointed, “Look. They’re trying again... E.” I looked up just in time to see the fingers all in one motion write the letter “E” over and over again on each window. I swallowed thickly. “We should all cover our eyes.” I announced, “We need to wait this out.”

Bring, bring, bring! Drew shook his head. “We just gotta open the door for a moment. I’ll go get help.” Angela looked like she was ready to pounce on him. “I told you! It’s too risky, there’s children aboard.”

“A child who keeps trying to communicate with them!”

The fingers were now writing “N” over and over again on every surface of the windows that there were. “N” She read softly.

“Guys,” I repeated and my voice rose, “I think we should cover our eyes.” “T,” Sheryl muttered and I dove for her first.

“Cover your eyes!” I screeched and slapped a hand over her gaze so that she couldn’t read it anymore.

Bring, bring!

“This is crazy!” Jinu started stumbling backward away from the group.

“Don’t leave us!” I reached for him as well.

“No!” Rick shouted, “I told you not to!”

I turned just on time to see Laura crawling toward her phone. She pressed on the screen with one finger and brought it to her face, “hello?” “E.” Sheryl said as my fingers slipped and the whole world came crashing down around us.

“Get back! Get away from her!” Rick pushed the three of us he could reach toward the back of the bus. Jinu let out a wordless scream and Drew reached for Laura.

“Young lady?” Laura’s face was completely contorted as she stood up. Her mouth opened in a grotesque snarl as her jaw jutted out awkwardly to the side. Her eyes were lifeless and started to leak drips of water down her cheeks.

She moved all at once-- like strings were unevenly tied to her knees. She took one jerky, tin step forward and then another.

“Drew,” I hissed and reached for him. “Get back.” “She’s so young,” he muttered. “She’s so young. Can you hear me?” The water was running down Laura’s cheeks like a faucet now and I couldn’t look away as her eyes sunk into their sockets. The white disappeared first into some unseen blackness. I pulled Drew back with all my physical strength and Laura took another step forward.

Could we fight her? Could we fight these things?

I took my knife out and slashed the air in front of us as she took her unpleasant, rigid steps forward. Her eyes had all but sunken into her head and her hanging mouth was now dripping water that smelled of something like mold and damp earth.

“Stay back,” I hissed and slashed the air again. “I’ll kill you.” To my surprise she turned. She faced one of the windows, the one that Sheryl has been sitting at only hours before back in the sunlight world. She touched the glass tentatively and the fingers repeated their last letter over and over again. Sheryl said a final ringing letter, “R.” ENTER.

I hugged myself and held my breath, bracing for the worst.

The windows did not break open though and the distorted faces did not slither inward. Laura got up onto the seat and started pressing into the window. Her eyes were completely gone and her ears and mouth and eyes were all steadily running over with streams of water.

It was wrong. It was hard to watch as she hands pressed gradually through the glass in an impossible manner.

It was a slow and painful process as she joined the mist. Hands grabbed her and pulled at her, her hair came loose and fell down her shoulders, and one of the people beside me started sobbing.

“It’s taking her…”

Someone started humming, Jinu I think. It was a sad and reluctant song that carried soberingly through the space. He hummed a funeral march just as she was tugged through the window and off into the white expanse with no name.

Our phones stopped ringing all at once and the fog began to lift as if in a dream. The next procession was mechanical and done in complete silence. We picked up our cracked phones and returned to our seats.

I didn’t know what compelled us, but I knew it had to be done. I knew we had to return to our exact same spots.

I took my seat at the back of the bus with my head bowed downward and Jinu sat across from me with his eyes focused on the skyline. Angela and Sheryl sat close and fixed in place. Rick went back to sleep. Drew sat closest to the driver and watched Ted sit up again.

Lights appeared beside us. Sounds of cars and bikers and voices reappeared. Headlights blinked on the other side of the road. Ted started the engine again. And we drove.

The bus rumbled onward through the beautiful dark night and city.

The only sign that we had ever been trapped in some place beyond here was the fact that my face was wet with tears and that there was an empty seat in front of me. I couldn’t remember her name though.

I looked down at my phone and I had 127 missed calls from “UNKNOWN” and a very brief text message from the same number. All it read was “again” and “enter.”

I closed my eyes and figured maybe it was time to move back home.

[everydisneymovie]

Review #38: The Light in the Forest

Post #42

8/4/2020

Next up is 1958′s The Light in the Forest

Enjoyment : [1]

Watching this movie feels like pissing blood. Watching it actively gave me a throbbing headache I was so furious with it. There is almost nothing enjoyable about this garbage and I actively think lesser of people who defend it. The issue is that the entire premise of the movie is racist and hateful so you can never get on board with the story unless you are also racist and hateful. The story is about a boy named True Son who was adopted by a tribe of Native Americans. Due to a treaty he is forced to return to his biological family where is then tortured and brainwashed until he finally acts ‘white enough’ for their approval. Even if True Son is ethnically white, he was raised by a loving Native family and this movie acts like none of that matters. From the first frame the moral of this movie is “The Races don’t mix, stay with your own kind” and it boils my brain to try and think why Disney thought this was ok.

Quality : [1]

The filmmaking is fine. Camera, lighting, sets, costumes, it probably would have gotten a 4 if the plot was anything other than the shit show it turned out to be. Because the writing is so unbelievably hateful this movie gets a 1. The reason this devalues the quality of the movie as a whole, is that the way scenes are structured is now fundamentally flawed. The writing tries to frame the racist white cultists as villains, but then also does nothing to refute them. The racist villains say something racist, True Son looks sad, and the film moves on like there is nothing else to be said. You can’t possibly write likable character when they are just awful from start to finish. Besides some musical stings, there is nothing behind the camera to display that these racists are wrong, if anything I think the framing supports their arguments and it ends up ruining everything.

Hold up : [0]

The second ever 0 given on this blog, and boy does this movie deserve it. I have already gone over how hateful the core premise is. A ‘respectable white family’ tries to ‘tame a savage native’ because ‘this is where he belongs!’ It is lazy, stupid and spiteful writing. However, what makes this movie truly awful is the ‘both sides!’ angle it tries to push and utterly fails at. The opening scene has the Native chieftain arguing with a British general. The Chieftain says that the British troops have been raping and killing men, women and children that were not part of any war party, to which the general snaps “Yeah but they only killed the civilians because they were scared of facing your savage warriors.” and then they just moves on like that was a fair answer to those accusations. You cannot compare the violence the Natives committed against the Pioneers to the violence the Pioneers committed against the Natives. One side was an invading army and the other was made up of civilians defending their home. Whenever a scene tries to ‘both-sides’ the argument it just sounds like “Why do the people we keep killing say they don’t want us to kill them? That’s so rude of them!” Fuck off movie this is pathetic and you know it. This movie is also truly horrible in its depiction of adoptive families. Despite the fact that True Sons Native family knew him most of his life and provided nothing but stability, the movie frames his racist, abusive biological family as his ‘true family’ since being related by blood trumps everything else. Like honestly fuck that, adopted families ARE real families regardless of race.  On a final absurd note, as if this movie couldn’t get any worse, the final conflict revolves around True Son fighting his uncle, who has been shown to not only be a racist murderer, but also an attempted rapist. And yet, True Son explicitly states he is going to fight his Uncle not because he is evil, but because “he wants to prove his is a white man and wants to earn his respect.” Yeah I am sure the respect of a monster like that is really that important to True Son. Go rot in hell Disney.

Risk : [2]

This movie is once again drenched in the sloppy discharge of American Exceptionalism and Manifest Destiny. I have already gone into detail about how horrible the ‘both-sides’ argument is since it paints the past as an inevitable conflict where the genocide of the Natives was just an unfortunate side effect. The only reason this movie doesn’t get a lower score in terms of risk, is that there WAS actually some attempt to humanize the Natives. They are shown to have complex inner lives and for the most part True Son remains steadfast in his refusal to give up his upbringing. He still ends up ‘turning white’ by the end but his determination made him the only likable character. Even though it was handled poorly, this movie actually acknowledged the existence of the Native genocide rather than painting over it like Westward Ho, The Wagons! did.

Extra Credit : [2]

There was one scene that actually was fun to watch. After True Son has been pushed around by his awful family for most of the movie, he is reunited with one of his Native cousins and it is genuinely joyful. The two wrestle and run around laughing, just happy to be in each others company. It made me smile and I hate that it didn’t lead into True Son going home to be with the family that actually loves him. If this movie had the balls to pick a side, this could have been a really wonderful moment, but spoilers: It wasn’t.

Final thoughts:

This is easily the worst movie on this list so far. Worse than the true life documentaries and worse than Peter Pan. It has been a long time since I sat through a movie that I could describe as ‘genuinely hateful.’ You get the feeling that the people who made this movie actually hated Native Americans and set out to intentionally demonize another race. I didn’t even get around to talking about the bland love interest who ‘fixes’ True Son with love because as we all know the best way to cure racism is good old fashioned heterosexual marriage. The best way to sum up this movie is with this simple fact. The main characters name is True Son, but his biological parents want to call him “Johnny” The scene were he meets his biological mother for the first time, instead of hugging, or getting to know each other, the mother simply says. “Your name is Johnny, you won’t leave this room until you say your name and act like a civilized gentleman.” Her concerns are not about True Sons mental wellbeing or safety, she just wants him to act ‘white’ so SHE is comfortable. There is ZERO love between them and yet the movie frames this like a heartfelt reunion between long lost family. After this scene, no one calls him True Son anymore, not even his love interest. They all call him Johnny and it has the same vibe as a someone getting dead-named over and over until they finally submit. I hate this movie and what is worse, I don’t think this will be the worst movie I’ll watch by the end of this project. God help me, this movie took years off my life. If I have to watch something this bad again I will dig up Walt myself and beat his zombie ass senseless. 

Total Score: 6/50

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the list

Edit: I would like to make a minor note about this movie. It is implied through dialogue that True Son was not adopted by kidnapped by the Native Americans. Which does make his biological families desire to bring him home understandable... HOWEVER: The way the movie is shot and written, it is clear that True Son is happy and treated as an equal while in the tribe, and he is emotionally abused the moment he is brought into the white town.  While he was not adopted in the text of the movie, it is clear that the movie frames and interprets True Son as an adopted child being ‘saved’ by his biological family. Either way Disney did a crappy job with this movie.

[jungkookienoona]

The Meme and His Tutor

Part 50: Waking Up with Her Meme

Recommended Song: Daybreak by Dreamcatcher

|Masterlist|

Summary:

Waking up the morning after her birthday, the tutor can’t believe how her life is changing.

Genre: Fluff, comedy

Pairing: Jungkook X Reader (Y/N)

Warnings: Swearing, elusions to sexual activities, this chapter is very short

Word Count: 431

Length: 50/?

A/N: A very short chapter. I really wanted to get something up because the 5th was TMAHT’s birthday. Strange to think the first chapter was posted 3 years ago... Anyway I know some people might not like that this chapter isn’t longer but I’m behind on multiple deadlines, c-PTSD has been kicking my ass, I don’t feel confident in my writing at the moment,  the government is being an asshole and I have had a lot on my plate with organising events at my univeristy. The government has decided to stop paying me one of my disability benefits and may stop my other one so I’d very much appreciate it if you supported me on Ko-Fi. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.

The feeling of hair being brushed away from your face stirred you awake, making you pull the warm body next to you closer.

“Mm, what time is it?” You said, nuzzling your face into Jungkook’s chest.

You felt rather than heard him chuckle, his hand carding through your hair. This situation struck you as so surreal. If a younger you had been told that one day you would be dating Jungkook, waking up beside him after a very eventful birthday evening, you would’ve laughed in disbelief. Hell, if someone had told you that you would enjoy sex you probably would’ve thought them insane. Yet there you were, curled up next to the man you love with a dull ache in your muscles from an active night.

“It's about 1pm. I thought I’d let you lay in.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, “I still can’t believe this is real.”

Jungkook tilted your head up, a cocky smirk on his lips, “I can’t believe we did it two more times and that I made you cum during both.”

Heat filled your cheeks, tomato face coming out in full force as you batted at his chest, “Don’t~ it's embarrassing!” 

“Noona,” Jungkook’s eyebrows furrowed, “we’re both adults, it's nothing to be embarrassed about. And you certainly shouldn’t be embarrassed about enjoying yourself. Especially with what you’ve been through in the past.”

“I know. I’m just so used to feeling so ashamed afterwards and I’m not used to being treated so… gently,” You sighed, “I’m still grey-ace though just so you know.”

Jungkook placed a kiss on your forehead, “I know, I know. But I’m going to change that-” The tips of his ears turned red. “Not you being grey-ace! You’re perfect as you are! I just meant the feelings you asocciate with sex. I want to change those, replace the bad ones and make good memories for the both of us.” 

You giggled, pecking him on the lips, “I know what you meant, BunBun. No need to get so flustered. How about we go get cleaned up then have something to eat?”

A smirk tugged at Jungkook’s lips, “Are you on the menu?”

More blood rushed to your cheeks as your lightly slapped him on the chest with a small whine of “Pervert.” Jungkook chuckled as he pulled back the covers, a chuckle that grew louder when he noticed you had instinctively covered your eyes. 

“Noona, there’s no need to look away. You’ve seen me naked plenty of times now.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m used to it!”

“And here I thought you wanted us to shower together…”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist:

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This work of fiction is copyright © JungkookieNoona and protected under UK and international law. All rights reserved. Any unauthorised broadcasting, copying or reposting will constitute an infringement of copyright.

[theserpentlife]

Chapter 1: The Fall

hey loves, so here’s the first chapter of my riverdale rewrite based on this storyline and character synopsis i did awhile back. this is my first time writing fiction like ever and it was really fun and i hope you guys enjoy it and let me know what you guys. send me nice messages pls.

Recommended Song to accompany read; Always forever - The Cults

As the raging summer takes its last humid breath, trees morph from tones of lush greens into assorted hues of red and gold. Brightly tinted maple leaves fall from the trees like confetti, a triumphant declaration of the beginning of the crisp and cool autumn. The season of fall had come to Riverdale, a small town nestled inconspicuously on the northern border. The season of autumn held great significance for the townspeople. It marked the beginning of the new school year for the town’s youth. A change of hands between the elder of the teens who would be leaving town for their college lives and the younger bright-eyed ones on the cusps of their new lives as high school students.

Fall was also the prime harvesting season for the town’s number one export - it’s rich tapestry of sickly sweet maple syrup. An abundance of sticky gold bled bountifully out of the trunks of the tall maple trees that surrounded the town. Steeped in decades of tradition and history, the Blossom Maple Farms, founded by the descendants of the Blossom Family, was truly the bedrock of the town’s economy.

In the winter of 1998, under the celestial glow of the full moon, the next in line to the empire would be born. An heiress. Cheryl Blossom had skin as pale as snow and hair as red as flames. As soon as she had left the confines of her mother's womb she had already committed a grave sin - being born a daughter to parents who had prayed ceaselessly for a son. Imagine the wrath that rained on her after Penelope was told she could no longer bear any other children. Cheryl Blossom’s very existence marked the end of the Blossom bloodline.

__________

Archie Andrews threw his freshly pressed light blue shirt over his broad shoulders and slowly worked his way up the buttons. As soon as he reached the very last one on the top, a bizarre scene unfolded in the reflection of his bathroom mirror. He saw that his hands were replaced with much paler ones, nails long and exquisitely polished in a deep red color. The air around him had suddenly gone cold. He was paralyzed by the sight before him and yet he could not look away. It was as if the cool wind had frozen him in place too. A sickeningly sweet aroma swarmed around him and his eyes darted anxiously as if trying to trace its source before fixating on his reflection once more. The mysterious hand was now gone and so was the smell. Archie swallowed hard at the lump that had gathered in his throat. It was probably just his imagination playing tricks on him, he reasoned. After all, he spent most of the night before tossing and turning in bed.

He takes a handful of his watered-down hair wax and slathers it generously onto his saffron hued locks. As expected the wax doesn’t take well to his hair. "Damn it." He grunts in annoyance before slathering another dollop, this time running his hands through his hair with increasingly aggressive strokes. His rage interrupted by a sudden weight pressing down on his right shoulder. His fear-ridden body jumps in response to the unwelcomed stimuli. “Woah Arch, I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you heard me come in.” It was Betty Cooper. “You okay?” Betty's brows were furrowed softly in concern. Archie's usual warm and rosy complexion was drained of all its color. She ran her hands across the length of his back in soft and soothing strokes. Her touch did wonders in soothing him. “Y-yeah I’m good.” "You sure?" "Yeah, Bets." this time Archie manages to conjure up a soft smile. Betty mirrors her childhood sweetheart melting into a soft smile herself. Her eyes trail the entire length of Archie’s body before fixating on his hazel brown eyes. “You look handsome.” she cooed. Archie couldn’t help but break into a light chuckle before averting his gaze away from her crystal blue eyes. Archie always had a habit of looking away or biting his lips whenever he felt sheepish and Betty loved that about him.

She brushed back the loose strands of hair that had fallen on his forehead and adjusted his navy blue varsity jacket, making sure to dust off any loose traces of lint. He instinctively stepped forward, eliminating the distance between them wanting nothing more but to take in the familiar aroma of her rose-scented perfume and the slight traces of her magnolia shampoo. He lifted his hands to embrace her face, thumbs softly stroking the pink of her cheeks. “I don’t know what I would do without you, Betty Cooper.”

______________

It’s twenty minutes before the start of the first period and the schoolyard is teeming with cliques of excited teens all engrossed in exchanging stories about how they had spent their summer. Right across the street, a sleek black BMW pulls into the street. Its tinted windows rolled down to reveal a raven-haired teen peering discreetly at the scene before her.  

“Andre, my dear, you can stop the car here.”

“But Miss-”

“It’s okay Andre, I prefer to walk.”.

Veronica Lodge had a plan. After her family's not-so-graceful fall from high society in New York, Veronica wanted nothing more than to detach herself from the shame of her past life. Opting instead to forge a new one for herself. She looked down to inspect her outfit one last time. A simple black dress, sinched fashionably at the waist with a thin violet belt. Her hands found its way to her collarbone and lingered on her bare skin where her prized pearl necklace used to lay.

"No need to pick me up later. I'll see you at the Pembrooke." Andre nodded, pausing thoughtfully for a second before flashing a warm smile at Veronica's reflection in the front view mirror. "Have a nice day at school, miss." she heard Andre say before closing the car door behind her. Nice day. I sure hope so she thought. Veronica wasn't expecting much from her new life in Riverdale, after all, she wasn't planning on staying for long. She figured it was best if she kept a low profile and made a graceful exit when it came time for her family to return to their lives in New York. No attachments, no drama. The lesser her classmates knew about her the better.

Inscribed in gold on the school’s brick facade read “Riverdale High”. Here goes nothing. As soon as she pushed open the rust-tinted front doors, she found herself right in the middle of it all. Students gathered in front of their lockers, chatting with friends and getting their books in order. All eyes were drawn to her immediately. You see in a small town like Riverdale, everybody knew everybody. They all shared the same street, grew up in the same schools. It was an understatement to say that she stood out like a sore thumb. She eased into a slight smile hoping it would soften her image, but her attempts were received with snickers and ridicule instead. There was no time for pleasantries anyway, the first period was coming up and she hadn't found her locker yet. “431.431.431” she repeated as her eyes scanned the row of deep blue lockers on either side of the hallway. “Veronica Lodge?” She froze in her tracks as if struck by a freeze gun. No way. Was it someone she knew? Perhaps someone from New York? This couldn't be happening. Her cover already blown and all before the first period?

She turned slowly on her heels to meet her fate and to her surprise and great relief it was a new face, someone she hadn't met before. Standing before her was an all-too-enthusiastic, blonde ponytail donning Betty Cooper. “I’m Betty Cooper, I’m on the welcoming committee. I’m supposed to give you a tour of the school? You know get you oriented on our programs and clubs and where the restrooms are...”. Her cheerful demeanor and upbeat voice threw Veronica off. I guess she wasn't used to the warm hospitality. An ambiguously awkward period of silence passed between the two before Betty let out a nervous laugh, embarrassment coloring her cheeks a bright pink. “Right Betty, nice to meet you". Veronica extended her hand for a handshake and Betty gladly returned the gesture.  

“So, have you found your locker yet?”.

“No, actually, I’ve been walking in circles for the past five minutes. Do you know where 431 is?" Betty nodded and mouthed an Ah-hah before leading Veronica further down the hall. “431, here we are.”. Veronica entered the code for the lock and viola her life at Riverdale High had officially begun.

________

“So here we have the girls’ locker room, that's the gym hall over there, and the cafeteria is just down the hall to the left.”. The all-inclusive Riverdale High campus tour was in full swing, led by Riverdale's golden girl no less. Veronica nodded nonchalantly, a polite gesture in acknowledgment of Betty's forthcoming reception. Veronica, however, took little effort to remember the details of the tour seeing as her time at Riverdale High would be brief.  

“Oh, and this is the Blue & Gold-" Veronica's ear perked at the noticeable boost in enthusiasm in Betty's tone. You'd think the blonde couldn't get any peppier than this. "You’ll find me here most of the time, I’m the Chief Editor here.”. The pair stepped into the dimly-lit space, a small classroom haphazardly converted into a publishing center for the school's paper. Tall dusty shelves lined the corners of the room with volumes of worn and aged books displayed sparsely on its bones. Their workstations buried in tall stacks of paper, several empty coffee mugs, and typewriters. Talk about old-fashioned. Who knew moving to a small town meant going back in time. “You know we’re always looking for writers so if-” “No thanks, I’m not much of a writer myself,” Veronica interjects, ‘But...I love what you’ve done with the place,” she rejoined, feeling her initial rejection of Betty's offer was rather crass for the good-hearted blonde.

Seated at the very corner of the space was Jughead Jones. A pair of gold-rimmed glasses perched precariously on the edge of his sharp nose. He sips his black coffee with one hand while the other dances frantically over the keyboard of his MacBook. Paying absolutely no heed to the presence of the two. “Jughead, this is Veronica Lodge she’s-” “New girl I know.” he interrupts, not even bothering to pry his gaze from his laptop to meet theirs. “This is Jughead, he’s one of the best writers in this school. His pieces are phenomenal.”.

“Well, I guess I should start reading the school paper then.” Veronica thought she should offer a light compliment, perhaps as a way to break the ice. She reached out her freshly manicured hand to shake his but was met with an unfazed Jughead still blissfully engrossed in his writing. She retrieved her hand, ego sorely bruised by the boy's crude demeanor. It took everything in her not to roll her eyes and return his hostility with a snarky remark. But she was new Veronica and new Veronica was not going to make an enemy out of her classmate on the very first day of Sophmore year.

Just as Betty was about to usher Veronica out, they hear Jughead read the summary of his latest piece aloud. A seemingly innocent behavior laced with malice of course. A deliberate attempt to rattle the cage. You see Jughead Jones was a bit of a sadist, getting a kick out of ticking people off every once in a while. He reclined into his seat, fingers interlocked behind his head as he began the narration of his latest piece. “Dark and mysterious family moves into town on the very same night Riverdale's scarlet heiress Cheryl Blossom goes missing - an awful coincidence perhaps?” “Jug!” a wide-eyed Betty scolds.

“Excuse me?” Veronica glared in disbelief. “Oh, it’s just a piece I’m working on about the disappearance of Cheryl Blossom.” Jughead gets up from his seat to come face to face with a fuming Veronica. His cold blue eyes peering straight through her dark ones. She couldn't help but scoff at Jughead's ridiculous attempt at yellow journalism.

“So let me get this straight, you think I body-snatched some girl I don’t even know, just so I could take her place in some local high school in the middle of nowhere?” Jug shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s just a working theory.”. Unbelievable! The guy practically knew her for all of five minutes and already he’s pegging her for a kidnapper. “Come on Veronica, let's go.” Betty ushered Veronica out of the room before looking back once more to shoot Jug a disapproving look.

“Betty, I have a question.”

"Yup?" the blonde hummed, eyes glued to the pages of her baby blue leather notebook. She ran her index finger down the rows of her handwritten agenda making sure she had covered all the bases of Veronica's orientation tour. "Who the hell is Cheryl Blossom?”. Betty blinked up at Veronica, her organized thoughts completely disarrayed. She wasn't prepared for this. Cheryl Blossom's disappearing act of the summer was not on the agenda for today and frankly, she didn't know how to describe Cheryl, well not with decent adjectives at least. "Well, she umm... she's-". Betty fumbled over her words before giving up completely seeing as Veronica herself was absorbed in the sight before them. A locker plastered with personal messages and flowers with a row of lit candles lined up neatly at its foot. A bright red banner hung from the ceiling just above it reading "Come home, Cheryl.".

_____________________________________

ok so should i continue with a chapter 2 or lets can this mess - what do ya’ll think? sound off in the comments.

[alitheamateur]

The Grind- Chapter 13

431 days. A tragus piercing. A black pencil tattoo permanently etched at the highest point of my right ribcage, and shadow roots in my sandy hair thanks to Becca, my new hairstylist recommended my latest friend, Tia. All things refreshed and renewed in the life of Liv Elliott. Single Liv Elliott. Okay, nearly all. One thing most certainly, and sorely remained the same. My beating heart was still smashed like a steel mallet had turned loose on it. Sure, the festering emotional cut of our breakup was beginning to mend with time. But, we all know with a healing cut, comes a forever scar. Not a scar representing a victorious battle, or a valiant effort. But one of sheer, naïve stupidity.  I choked on a daily spoonful of utter confusion wondering where the road took such a drastic detour towards that killer cliff we had so recklessly plunged from. I constantly fought the burning urge to scratch and claw my way back up the side of that treacherous mountain to find my way back to the earliest road. The road with Colton as my copilot. 

I so graciously allowed myself 2 weeks to hide away. Flounder in tears, Rocky Road, and maybe even a drunken bonfire of most photographic evidence that Colton ever existed. I avoided mascara all together, concluding that some point of my day would inevitably lead to a blubbering breakdown as I hid in the office bathroom. I rearranged the entire span of my apartment, hopeful maybe the new positions of furniture would confuse the ghosts of him that all too often appeared laid out comfortably on the couch, ankles crossed during a Sunday nap. Or slumbering face down with one hand under a pillow and the other stretched out toward the opposite side of the bed, lips loose in sleeping breathes. I couldn’t outrun the flashbacks no matter the effort. Even still, he haunts me on a Saturday morning at The Grind, or on a Tuesday night at my place with takeout from the B-rated Chinese joint down the street. However now, the sickness of utmost sadness, overcome with a rancorous flood of anger instead. Mostly with Colton, rightfully so. But myself as well. The foolish, undignified way I had just fallen under his potent spell, I might as well have just dropped to my knees and waved the white flag the second he introduced himself. And yet, the unsolved mystery remained. HE had said he loved me first. Sure, I felt it near the moment he kissed me after our run through the city that morning, but I chose to bury the words for another time. Colton on the other hand, had no problem spouting off his revelation to me. Nor did he stutter on the admittance of apparently “thinking with his dick” when it came to the matter of our meeting that fateful morning either. One thing I was able to confirm, was the son of a bitch clearly suffered a severe case of habitual word vomit.

The Pilot for me was a bit of a safe haven in a war zone, it being a place I could hide from the demons a bit. My new title at the paper requiring me to cover all things fighting within a 100-mile radius on the other hand, posed a bit of an issue. Thank the holy heavens I had avoided the press conference for his first match following our demise, due to the short, paid hiatus I took to visit Westfield. A taste of nostalgia and familiarity seemed like suitable therapy for a maimed heart, and maybe a good caudle from my parents. An attempted one, at least.

Tony and Elizabeth, said parents, were good parents in general. I won’t take that away from their accomplishments. But when basketball gracefully bowed out of my life, their involvement followed suit. Dad & I always had ball as that bonding clue to hold us tightly together. Saturday mornings following Friday night games always began with film, 150 free throws out back on the handcrafted mock court he’d constructed for me, ending at Al’s Diner for pancakes. That first fateful Saturday after my knee surgery, we tried to replay the film and retreat to Al’s, but when the conversing concerning if I’d pass the current scoring record at Westfield High, or whether I would commit to University of Louisville or SIU no longer applied, we drifted. When the “basketball dad” shadow from the sticker he peeled from the rear window of his pickup truck faded, a hefty portion of the pride he held for his daughter did too.

As far as a closeness with mom, there truly wasn’t much. She preformed the expected team mom duties by hosting bake sale fundraisers, and chaperoning homecoming dances. But that dependable shoulder never pushed much further in the emotional realm of a relationship with me. My dad & I had always held a special closeness, leaving her to feel somewhat shoved to the proverbial back burner. I was never much for the “foofy” tea parties, or pageant queen aspirations she had, which no doubt drove the wedge deeper between the two of us. But, when I moved so far away, it seemed distance, and time had healed some wounds in our connection. When I arrived at the simple square, two story siding home on Lake Lane, my first friend in life, our Collie, Indiana nearly mounted to hood of my car to get to me. No doubt, his name sake my dads favorite action movie character, and my home-state.

“Hey Indy, you sweet boy! I’ve missed you, ya’ big guy!” I rumpled the cashmere like white coat around his neck.

Mom galloped out the red front door first, dad following suit at a slightly slower pace.

“Liv, honey! Oh, we’re so glad you’re here! We’ve missed you,” my mom squealed towards me with open arms.

“We really have missed you, kid. Look at ya’!” Dad persisted with the ever annoying greeting of ruffling the top of my head like some socially incoherent teenage boy.

They probably did miss me, I’m sure. But, apparently not enough to ever offer a visit with me since moving my things to the city of Pittsburgh. No matter what bitterness flowered, as I dragged deeper into adulthood, I had resolved that you only got one set of parents, and the importance of appreciating the ones you did get was dire. So, I decided to nurse some long dwelling resentment and go into this visit with a forgiving heart.

“I missed you guys, too. Things still look exactly the same around here.” I inventoried those familiar, award-winning rose bushes my mother grew in the landscape, and with attached garage door open, I was able to see dads tool shop sanctuary in exactly the shape I had left it. Not a hammer out of place.

“Let’s get you inside, sweetie. Dinner will be done soon, & I’m sure we have some catching up to do.” Mom placed her hands over my upper arms, guiding me into I’m sure a spotless house, while dad unloaded my suitcase from the back hatch of my SUV.

 Steaks cooked to perfection courtesy of Tony Elliott, self-proclaimed grilled master, were served in the newly remodeled dining room, and the 3 of us sat in the same assumingly designated spots that we had for all my childhood years. I did miss a motherly, prepared with love, home cooked dinner so I wasted no amount of time scarfing down the contents of her delicious spread.

“How are things with the promotion, Livvy? They aren’t taking advantage of ya’, I hope?” Dad dropped his fork gently to his plate, taking a sip of his tea.

“Things are good, dad. Ryan, my boss, really does treat me excellently. He’s always super complimentary of my work.” I assured.

“Sounds like a nice guy. Maybe someone has a little crush?” Elizabeth winked while sorting through the last few sprigs of lettuce in her salad bowl.

“Ha! No thanks, mom. He’s an awesome guy, but I’d never see him like that. Plus, I could never date my boss, you know that.” I scoffed all too quickly.

Alright, you fraidy-cat. Get to it, here! Tell them. About him.

“Plus, I think I need a little break from men these days.”

“A break? Meaning there’s been some boys around since you moved?” Mom was the first to chime in, while my dad sat idly by, trying to appear casually at ease. But, I knew he was hearing every syllable of the exchange between his wife and I.

“Just one guy, mom. Well, there was one guy.” My attention never left the chopped, leftover chunks of food on my white porcelain plate. “Remember the first piece I did on Mixed Martial Arts? My first front page?”

“Liv, don’t be ridiculous. Yes, it’s laminated and framed in the living room. Go on..” she answered, leaning on her hand as an elbow rested on the table for a blinking second, before she retracted it, minding her usual manners.

“I was with one of the competitors. Like, in a relationship for several months actually. Colton, the fighter who I was working one-on-one with.”

There, at least he’s out in the open now. The dirty secret is out.

“Was, meaning not anymore then?” Dad finally broke his cold silence.

“Not anymore, no. We haven’t been together for a while now. But, I….. I uh, I didn’t handle the split so well. Which is part of my reason for coming to see you guys.”

My mind spun like a tilt-or-whirl trying to sort through what needed to be said, and what I should leave out. They didn’t need to know how harshly he’d spoken to me, nor the pathetic amount of sick days I’d used to wallow in my tear-stained sheets and overindulge on snack-packs.

“It sounds like things were serious, honey. Frankly, I’m a little hurt you never told us about him.” My mom had taken an overbearing interest in me when I started dating in high school. Boys were something she saw as her forte, I assume. Dad and I had basketball, now she and I could have boys, and relationships. So, the lack of sharing about my now ex-boyfriend seemed to perturb her.

“It was serious, mom. Yeah. I loved him. I was in love with him. Case in point, why I didn’t handle our breakup with much dignity.”

“What happened, Liv? Anything I should be concerned about,” dad inquired in the ultimate “dad” tone of voice.

“It just didn’t work, guys. It’s done, and life goes on. Nothing more, okay?”

Life goes on, huh? Let’s practice what we preach, dear.

“Losing a love is hard, sweet pea. But you’re a strong, successful young lady, and you’ll recover just fine. I know it!” Mom smiled.

I admired her A+ efforts for the “mother bear” sermon. It’s what I needed, truly. No matter how I wanted to tell her I needed those little chats years ago. I needed that reassurance back when I thought life hated me, and some karmic attack had been yielded on my life. Recently though, she had been heartily trying with our relationship. Both of them had. And although the repairs were long overdue, and far from complete, I was thankful nonetheless.

 I hadn’t been back to my stomping grounds since I’d left slightly over three years prior, so I had my fair share of hellos to exchange, most importantly being my childhood best friend, and the shooting guard to my point guard, Sara. She hadn’t spread her wings from our small town, instead chose the “marry my perfect high school sweetheart and have the most painfully adorable twin boys on the planet” lifestyle, which suited her beautifully.  She met up with me at the local dairy freeze for a greasy order of cheese fries after ending the work day at her parents’ dental practice where she was employed as a hygienist. Sitting alone at the wooden picnic table carved with an array of heart enclosed initials of couples I knew never made it past junior year prom, I felt strangely foreign in the little town now. Distant, or homesick. Every hardware store clerk or mail carrier knowing about the family pet you had to put down because all news travelled like an unruly forest fire in Westfield, now seemed displeasing rather than endearing. I basked in a bit of big-headed pride realizing I had maybe outgrown this little corner of the world, and home suddenly felt eastbound. Whether that had anything to do with my recent ex had yet to be determined.

Sara arrived right on time, going straight for the counter to order her favorite Dr. Pepper ice cream float as she put it ���first things first.” The girl may have been the only person in the whole population of 2,000 whom I held in trusting regard, so she was kept up to date through a hefty amount of text messages about the tumultuous romance of Liv and Colton. We exchanged a squealing hug before diving right into the heavy matter.

“How are you? First off, you look freakin’ amazing. The big city looks good on you, Elliott,” Sara flopped into her seat, pulling off her pink labcoat.

“Shut up, you liar. The bags under eyes have bags, Sara. I’ve been a sloppy, sobbing, bitchy, pathetic mess for going on two months now. Like, who am I and will it end?!” I felt so light being able to genuinely come out in the open with all the emotion I was dealing with. A crucial missing piece to my life in the Burgh was a real, true friend such as Sara. Someone to take shoe shopping, and call drunk at 3 a.m. when you’re well into a half of bottle of Pinot and can’t keep from hysterically bawling over the ghastly way your boyfriend spoke to you.  A woman needs the Lavern to her Shirley to share life with.  

“It’s called love, honey. Welcome to the party,” she sucked vigorously through the straw of her float. “We’ve been waiting for you to show up.” I appreciated her gracious attempt to lighten the mood.

“Well if this is what it’s all about, I won’t be coming back.” I spoke mumbled chewing on a fry.

“It doesn’t always turn out this bad, babe. You just fell really, really hard. Which means getting over it will probably be equally as difficult. As much as I hate to see you like this…”

“Easy for you to say, Sara. You practically married Prince Harry or something. Can’t I just borrow yours sometime?” I clowned.

Her husband was truly the best of the best, and he’d been that way since the beginning. So, I always harbored some envy of sorts toward the seeming perfection of their relationship.

“In all honesty, Sare, I don’t know that I’m going to have the same feelings for whoever comes along like I did Colton. I’m not going to be irrational enough to say I’ll never love again, because I know that’s just silly and overdramatic. I’m just not sure it’ll be as raging and romantic, ya’ know what I mean?”

Just as she was about to hit me with some bogus line probably directly from an article she’d read in Cosmopolitan, a familiar voice intruded.

“My God, am I having a flashback right now?” Our varsity head coach Eric Gibson yelled from the open window of his parked car.

The guy was a true, unadulterated saint. He’d pulled me from the 8th grade roster to dress up for him on JV, so I lost count on how many games we’d competed in together. He shed nearly as many tears as my own father had when I collided with that player from Carson County causing me to close out my chapter as a ball player. He quickly locked the doors to his vehicle with two beeps of the horn, and made his way eagerly to us.

“Coach, how are you?” I stood to meet his incoming hug. With Sara still residing in Indiana I’m sure their paths crossed frequently in town.

“I’m doing fine, Liv. Shocked to see you here, girl! Are you back in Westfield?” He patted Sara with a coy hand to the shoulder, and we returned ourselves after the exchange of greetings.

“Oh, no no. Just here for a visit. I finally got the chance to take a little vacation from work, so I thought I’d come check in on Sara, and my parents.”

“Yeah, you’re a real superstar here, you know that? Everyone had a field day when your article made the front page for your paper. It was the talk of the town!”  

I blushed vividly at his statement. “Thanks, coach. It’s really nothing though.”

His mouth opened wide in defense. “It most certainly is something, Liv. It’s a huge accomplishment! Don’t be so modest. Hard work deserves to be recognized, and I know you’re no stranger to working hard in everything you do.” He paused to nudge my shoulder that grazed his. “ You’re talented, Elliott. And scrappy as hell when need be! Those big shots at that newspaper better just stay outta your way.”

Suddenly, there it was. The switch of undignified pity had self-destructed. Leave it to Coach to set me straight as he always did. I was scrappy as hell! The 4 games I’d been ejected from back in school clear evidence. It was time to exercise that same fearlessness and grit to scratch myself to the surface again, leaving behind this lonely, moldy grave Colton had dug for me. He may have outweighed me by an easy sixty pounds, and could’ve snapped me in half in the concern of strength. But mentally? It’d have to be ruled a no contest.

That night, back to square one in the little town in Indiana, over cheese fries & cheap milkshakes, with an out-and-out smack reminder courtesy of coach Gibson, I awoke. The sleepwalking, gray way of life a thing of the past. I excused myself from the parade of self-pity I had long been the grand marshal for.

“Maybe she’ll take your word for it, Coach. I’ve been trying to get that very same thing through that thick head of hers.” Sara interjected, slurping the last traces of whipped cream from her glass.

“Okay, okay, you two. Lay off before it all goes to my head.” I shook with a chuckle, and decided then and there, that I was going to find peace and satisfaction in life when I got back to Pittsburgh, someway, somehow, no matter what. I wanted my heart back from him. The heart he clearly had no use for any longer.

TAGS: @torialeysha @eap1935

[spider--aye]

TWDG Rarepairs week, Day 5: Heartbreak

Ship: lujavi (Luke x Javi)

Words: 2 431...? Man, I write more than I intend to!

Warnings: I feel like I should inform, there will be suicide mentioning (???)

Javier was sitting in the main room. He was somewhat bored, still waiting for anything to happen. He had already made a plan about food rations so they'd last two weeks at least and even now they had five groups scavenging. Everything seemed to go perfect. Suddenly the door slammed open and someone ran in, breathing heavily. Javier eyed the young girl that had been delivering messages for a couple of months now. She stopped to catch her breath and Javi could sense in the tension that something had happened. Recently. She finally was able to speak.

"The calculations were wrong," she let out, panting. Javi shivered in his sit before getting confidence to ask.

"What calculations?" he asked, uncomfortable about unknowing.

"The one showing... how the horde will go," the girl explained. Javi immediately was ready to give out orders.

"Will it hit us? When?" he asked, and the girl looked away with a painful expression on her face.

"It won't. We were wrong about the time only, it moved faster and... and attacked one of the scavenging groups," the girl explained again, this time making herself clear. Javi felt nervous again.

"Which one?" he asked as his voice was slightly shaking.

"The... the C group." the girl answered.

Javier's heart stopped. He choked on air and his eyes were filled with tears as he was processing it. The group C. The group under Luke's orders. He was just staring into the distance with his whole body shaking. It was like someone poured a whole bucket of ice-cold water on him. Someone stabbed his chest. He looked at the girl with pure fear in his eyes.

"Did anyone make it?" he asked quietly.

"M- most of the people, I think," she answered shyly.

"Where are they?!" Javi asked, getting up and ready to ran.

"They're- getting checked for bites near the north gate," the girl let out and Javi ran past her.

He could swear, he never ran this fast in his life. He passed the whole city within minutes, getting a lot of people's attention, but he couldn't care less. He only cared if Luke was still alive. Maybe he was alive. Maybe he got hurt while escaping. Maybe he got bit and will be closed up soon. Maybe he was eaten alive. Maybe he got put down while escaping. And maybe he's a walker near the fence now? So many bad scenarios and so little good ones were flying through Javier's mind as the man ran to the check-up station, to the north gate.

As he ran in he could see a lot of people from Luke's group getting checked up, one young boy arguing over a starch on his elbow, assuring he simply fell, others joining in and confirming his story, but no Luke in sight. Javi looked over all the faces a couple of times before asking.

"Is Luke okay?" he asked. A lot of eyes landed on him, yet everyone was quiet. Suddenly the boy with hurt elbow started crying silently.

"I- I-" he started and Javi looked at him. "When I fell, he- he helped me and- and I saw him- he- he got bit." the boy finally said.

Javier's heart stopped as he heard the 3 last words. He could literally feel the world getting heavier and falling onto his shoulders, and his heart? It stung... it stung until it didn't give out and broke, fell apart into million little pieces. He was not able to breathe properly, just as an invisible hand was choking the life out of him. He couldn't see the room, couldn't make out faces, colors were mixing with each other as his eyes were filling with tears. Not a sound was hearable, not even one, just terrible ringing in his ears.

"I'm... glad at least- you... lived," Javi choked out to the kid and then slowly left the room, assuring everyone that he was going to be fine.

Yet, as soon as he left the room he hit his back at the wall and slowly slid down it. He burst out in tears, covering his mouth so the others wouldn't hear. He was still in denial, he couldn't believe this. He couldn't believe Luke was gone. Gone, just like that! So he was sitting there, crying his eyes out for over half an hour. He couldn't move, stuck in a loop of memories. He remembered how it went down when Luke was going two days earlier.

"Be careful, please..." Javier asked, looking into his boyfriend's eyes. Luke smiled sweetly.

"No worries, I'll be back, just like I always am," the man assured and Javi nodded.

"Good luck. And you better bring something tasty!" Javi joked.

"I will, I promise. And you try not to burn the place down while I'm out there," Luke grinned. Javi sighed.

"Oh come on, it was just this one time!" he protested and Luke chuckled.

"All right, all right... See you soon, Javi," Luke said his goodbyes.

"See you soon, Luke," Javi answered. Just as Luke was about to leave, he smooched Javi's cheek. Javi smiled.

"I Love Ya'!" Luke shouted as he was going away.

"I love you too," Javi answered with a wide smile. And so, they separated from each other.

This conversation felt so natural for Javi, yet surreal. With all the joking, teasing, affection, goodbyes... it was a usual day. A usual separation. And now it turned out it was a last one. If Javi knew, he wouldn't let Luke live. He'd lock him up if he had to. And if not, he'd make this goodbye feel better. He'd sit with Luke, wrap his hands around him, kissed him as many times as he could... he'd be happy. Happy for the last time before the darkness connected to his loss would come. And at a though of happy change, he felt it hurt a lot more than it already had.

No matter what happened, he wasn't able to pick himself back up. He ended up crying himself to sleep right in that small room, unseen by people of Richmond. Unseen by anyone. He woke up to someone shaking him. A fast thought flew through his head, making him believe that it was all a bad dream, but feeling how hard the floor under him was made him realize that it was real. His wet, reddish eyes met worried ones of his nephew, Gabe. The boy was shaking him worriedly.

"Uncle Javi? Uncle Javi!" the boy was crying out. Javi rose his head. "Uncle Javi, what happened?" the boy asked. All that was left of Javi's heart started stinging.

"L- Luke's- he's dead, Gabe!" Javi cried out. The younger boy flinched.

"What?" he asked, looking terrified.

"He's dead, he died on the supply run, he's-" Javi choked, unable to finish. He could see Gabe’s expression change to a one filled with sadness.

"I- 'm sorry," the boy whispered.

After some time Gabe helped Javi up and led him into his home through the night, unseen by anyone. He even helped his beloved uncle to his room before leaving, knowing that he needed time. Javi stumbled to his bed and crashed into it, closing his eyes and wrapping his hands around the pillow under his head. His fingers met something cold under it. With a numb expression, Javi ran his hand across the thing, slowly clenching his fist around it. The gun. Bullets were right next to it, they were kept there just in case. Javi slowly sat up, loading the gun. He sat in the edge of the bed and just looked at the pistol in his hands. He closed his eyes. He thought about Luke.

...

Bang!

Javier lowered his gun after hitting walker's head. Walker that was group C's member before. He was crossing the horde covered up in guts, just like he was shown before, and was putting down everyone who died during the supply run. He had his bat in his other hand, which he was using to get rid of regular walkers. So far he had found 6 people out of 8, he needed to find a woman named Jessica and... and Luke. He spotted the woman in between the walkers, looking like she belonged with them since she got born. He aimed and fired his gun again. One of the walkers looked at him and approached suspiciously, so Javi smashed it with his bat and continued on before he got any more attention.

He suddenly saw a bloody trail leading through this ocean of walkers. It wasn't big, more like someone had many wounds and was running. Many bites. Javi choked on air when he realized that the trail must have belonged to his boyfriend. He silently followed it, stopping himself from sobbing while he followed the trail. It led to some building. Javi entered and got to the second chapter, looking for anything and then it hit him. The smell. The smell of fresh blood filled the air, making Javi almost puke. He looked around and saw a still leg on the other side of the hallway.

His eyes filled with tears, he choked a quiet sob and clenched his fists to overcome the weight that was crushing him. He could easily recognize Luke's clothing. He pulled out his gun and had his bat ready to protect himself. He crossed the hallway watching his every step and searching for movement in the corners, but there was nothing. He approached and his eyes widened as he saw Luke on the ground. Only man's leg and head were sticking out from under a blood-soaked blanket. Man's face was covered in blood, he was pale, his head was tilted to the left, his eyes closed and his mouth slightly open.

"Luke?" Javi choked out. But the answer never came.

Ignoring the danger, Javi fell to his knees and started crying. Yet, he was able to get back to his feet and aim his gun. Just as he was about to pull the trigger he got that well-known gut feeling trying to stop him. He tried to push it down and glanced once over to Luke. Suddenly, he froze and his head spun. He was just... staring at his boyfriend. At his chest. Rising... and falling. He broke past his paralysis and rushed over to the man, throwing both his bat and the gun away. He caught his arms and shook him slightly.

"Luke?! Luke! Do you- do you hear me?!" Javi asked on the edge of breaking down again. Luke slowly rose his head and opened his eyes. Eyes that were not walker-like.

"...Javi...?" he whispered almost unhearable. Javi didn't hold his tears back as he wrapped his arms around the man, pulling him closer than ever before. Just listening to his heartbeat.

"Luke! You're alive!" he cried out, resting his head on man's shoulder. It took a long moment, but Luke hugged him back with one of his hands. Eventually, Javi pulled away but kept holding man's shoulders. He smiled. "How are you?" Javi asked, but instead of answering, Luke moved slightly, shaking his blanket off.

Javi jumped and took his hands away as Luke looked numbly at the ceiling, not willing to look at his right arm. At the place it was supposed to be. But it wasn't, it was cut out. Javi then calmed down and took Luke's good hand, squeezing slightly, like the man was about to leave. He gave him a look that was saying 'it's okay' and Luke nodded.

"Can you walk?" Javi asked worriedly. Luke chuckled despite his rough condition.

"...Never..." he said.

Javi pulled off the blanket from Luke's legs, trying to find some sort of wound, but he didn't. He didn't find his other leg at all. After a moment of silence, Javi pulled the man into the hug again. He suddenly felt how hot his forehead was.

"You're running a fever?" he asked, filled with pure fear.

"I... I tried..." Luke tried to explain. "I tried but it... it was too late..." he whispered.

"No. No, no, NO! You- You'll be fine! I- I know it! I'll just- take you home, you'll be fine, they- they will help you!" Javi assured, panicking and feeling Luke lean harder on him, meaning he was losing energy. The answer never came.

Javier wasn't about to give up. He picked Luke up and grabbing his gun and bat ran away. The horde almost passed and he was running quiet, so he made it to the gate within... half an hour? He ran up to it, screaming to open it and as soon as someone did he rushed in and went straight to the medical center. He ran inside, struggling to breathe. Some people looked over and someone came around, took Luke from him, so, feeling like he did what he needed to, Javi collapsed to the floor.

"Try to save him... he was... bitten." were the only words he was able to choke out before closing his eyes and giving in to exhaustion.

He woke up on a bed a couple of hours later, feeling better. He looked around the room, figuring out what happened and he felt something wrapped around his hand. He turned his head and saw it. Luke, passed out, was holding his hand. The man had his colors back and was fully washed from the blood. Javi smiled, seeing that the man was still alive and squeezed harder on his hand, making sure they wouldn't get separated. The doctor entered and smiled, seeing Javi awake.

"You woke up. Good," he commented. Javi turned his head to him.

"How is he? Will he live?" he asked, afraid of the answer that might've come.

"Yes. You brought him in here the very last moment. A couple more minutes and we wouldn't be able to save him," the doctor admitted. Javi frowned.

"He was bitten..." Javi started.

"He was. Luckily, you cut the bites out fast enough," the man answered.

"I didn't. He... he saved himself," Javi admitted, looking at Luke, smiling wider realizing that he was NOT gone.

"Then he did an excellent job. Now, that you woke up, you're free to leave, but I'll understand if you'd rather stay with him. Should I bring you a chair?" the doctor asked.

"Y- yeah, please." Javi agreed and the doctor left. Javi rubbed his boyfriend's hand. "Don't rush it, buddy, rest all you need, I'll wait," he promised, sitting up and waiting for the doctor to bring the chair.

[itsdanystormborn]

Orient 11 Full Translation.

Orient 11

This is only a fan translation. Don’t forget to support the official releases of Orient, Shinobu Ohtaka and Weekly shounen magazine.

►[Please don’t repost without giving credits. If you use this translation, don’t forget to share the link to this post!]◄

You can find the scans in @soreita‘s blog!

Orient 11 :  “By your side”

A mystery banquet in enemy territory!! What are Kosameda Bushidan’s intentions by welcoming Musashi and Kojirou?  

Orient 11: “By your side”

  Page 425

Welcome, Musashi, Kojirou!

Let’s throw a welcome party! To our Kosameda Bushidan!

 Page 426

Hideo: Musashi! You sure can drink! As one would expect from a first class Bushi!

Musashi:  Don’t praise so much!

 Kojirou: I’m good, thank you!

Tsugumi:  You will drink too! You are Kojirou, right?

Kojirou’s thoughts: why are they throwing this reception for us, again….?

 Page 427

Soldiers: The lord has returned from the Oni extermination mission!

Musashi: So, that’s the leader of this Bushidan…

SFX: thump, thump

Musashi: Seems an asshole like Takeda Naotora… why should I do if they make fun of me again?

 Hideo: welcome, our guest! I’m Kosameda Hideo, the leader of the bushidan!

Musashi: ugh

Hideo: Eh? Your hands are very blistered… This is the proof of the choice to wield a sword a first class bushi…

Hideo: You are a bushi like me… Let’s become friends!

Musashi: First class bushi…

A bushi like me, become friends….

  Page 428

Kojirou: That was enough to get you over the moon…

Manuscript: how are these vegetables seasoned?

Manuscript: It’s super tasty, right?

Musashi: This leader seems to be a good guy, right? Kojirou!

Manuscript: He even treated us a meal!

 Kojirou: But, isn’t this kind of weird? Why would this people go this far for us?

Tsugumi: Stop worrying and drink!

 Hideo: By the way, I took a look at your Kitetsuki…

  Page 429

Hideo: If you own such a top quality Kitetsuki, then it means…

Hideo: that you two have come to defeat quite a lot of “Kishin”… I can see you are first class Bushi!

 Kojirou: This person is overestimating us!

Manuscript: though we haven’t gotten that far yet…

 Hideo: therefore, I have a proposal for you…

Hideo: Wouldn’t you like to form a coalition with our Kosameda Bushidan?

Musashi: A coalition?

  Page 430

Hideo: Yeah!

Hideo: There are quite strong stray Oni living in this zone…

Musashi: Stray Oni?

Hideo: Those who fight together suffer less damage… We’ll split the “Kitetsu” in equal parts!

Musashi & Kojirou: … …

Musashi: Oh… you see,

Musashi: That girl mentioned that too, but… What is a “Kitetsu”?

Tsugumi & Hideo: Eh?

Hideo: Don’t tell me… You don’t know what a “Kitetsu” is?

Musashi: Yeah, I don’t know.

  Page 431

SFX: well…

Hideo: I guess you can’t use it then…

Musashi & Kojiro: what?

Hideo: Tsugumi.

Tsugumi: But My lord…

Hideo: restrain them, right now.

Tsugumi: Y- yes!

Musashi: what’s happening…?

  Page 432

Tsugumi: Kitetsutou “hiensouryuuken”!!

( T.N: kitetsu tou: metal demon sword / hien souryuuken: swallow flight- pair blade school)

Musashi & Kojirou:  what!?

  Page 433

Musashi: what technique is this!?...

Kojirou: I can’t slice it off with my sword…!!

Musashi: Hey, take this off!

Tsugumi: …

Tsugumi: I’m… I’m sorry…

Musashi: !?

Hideo: however, the fact that they own a quality Kitetsuki hasn’t changed.

Hideo: They might still have more kitetsu hidden somewhere…

  Page 434

Hideo:  We’ll leave them imprisoned.

 Tsugumi: I- It’s my fault for being incompetent and stupid…

Page 435

Hideo: one more time.

Tsugumi: It’s my fault for being incompetent and stupid…

Hideo: I didn’t hear you, one more time!

Tsugumi: It’s my fault for being incompetent and stupid, I failed…

Tsugumi: It’s my duty to bring strong and useful Bushi to my lord, and yet….

Hideo: You truly are a poor skilled girl, huh? Tsugumi.

… Can you understand the current state of your group with that dim-witted head of yours?

Tsugumi: Y-Yes… I understand that we are in a predicament…

Hideo: …

Hideo: … A predicament?

 Page 436

Hideo: The war progress is certainly disappointing…

Hideo:  The front has collapsed…. The military force of the kosameda bushidan has decreased in the many battles against the Oni.

Hideo: The number of bushi and kitetsu are not enough…

Hideo: But, there’s no way we can turn our back on the Oni situation!

Hideo: Eventually, the Oni will wish for metal and… they will pour their way into this castle…

When that happens…

Tsugumi: …. !?

  Page 437

Hideo: I’ll set the “general mobilization order” of the castle town,

Tsugumi: … The… “general mobilization order” !?

Tsugumi: That means… that even the children of the castle town… will have to be ready to die fighting the Oni…?

  Page 438

Hideo: that’s right.

Until the last soldier falls… To battle the Oni until the very end,  is what being a Bushi means, isn’t it?

Tsugumi: But…isn’t that too harsh…!?

A lot of citizens are woman who can’t fight, and older people…!!

Not to mention the children… They still don’t know the ideals of the Bushi so well!

They’ll fight for something they don’t understand, and they will be tortured to death by those monsters…

Tsugumi: It is too much…!! don’t you have any compassion for the citizens?!!

Hideo: well…

Tsugumi: ….!!

  Page 439

Hideo: Compassion…

Should I…?

 Hideo: “Bushidan” exist to fight against the Oni!

Citizens should have a burning passion for this highly proud fate as well!!

By our honor, we must not let go of this land entrusted to us by *Lord Tokugawa….

That’s it, to fight the Oni with pride filling our hearts is… a Bushi’s supreme gratification, isn’t it?

( *T.N: Might be a reference to Tokugawa Ieyasu, the first shougun and founder of the Tokugawa shougunate)

 Tsugumi: S-Still…!!

Hideo: Still what? Do you have any objections? Say them

Hideo: Come one… say them!

Tsugumi: Ah…

Ah…

I…

 Page 440

Hideo: I’m asking you if you have any objections, you stupid woman!!!

Tsugumi: Ah…!

Tsugumi: …!

 Tsugumi: Ah…

Tsugumi: yes…

I agree… with you….

Haha

 Tsugumi:… My lord

Hideo: What!?

Tsugumi: Please, give me your orders…

Hideo: !

  Page 441

Tsugumi: I haven’t received your next instructions…

Tsugumi: Is it okay for me to do something?

Tsugumi: should I stay alert? Should I train? Or do I get to have a mission?

 Hideo: You are unbelievable … you can’t do anything without me, can you? Tsugumi!

SFX: *PAT, PAT*

Tsugumi: Yes…

Hideo: You have been the least skilled since long ago…

Tsugumi: I’m sorry….

Tsugumi: I’m doing my best, but…

Hideo: You don’t have to do your best.

 Page 442

Hideo: Because I will always be by your side…

You only have to listen to what I say!

 Tsugumi: … Yes, my lord.

 I’m all right…

As long as I have my lord, I’ll be all right…

  Page 443

Hideo: However, … I have to give you a punishment for failing the mission!

Tsugumi: Y-Yes… My lord….

 Musashi: Da-mn-it! That smiling iron masked Samurai throwed us into this place!

Kojirou: But, what should we do? that girl’s weapon wasn’t ordinary.

Musashi:  you are right… But, her technique…

Musashi’s thoughts: we’ve seen it before, haven’t we…?

Tsugumi SFX: (singing) hm, hmmm, hum, humm

  Page 444

Tsugumi: Yahoo! How are you two?

Musashi: What the…!?

Musashi: You… what’s with your face!?

 Musashi:  it’s super ugly!!

Manuscript: You cried your eyes out or what!?

Tsugumi: Well, something nasty happened… It’s nothing!

Anyway, I really need to ask you two something, okay?

 A strong bond binds the leader and Tsugumi together! This face is the prood of their love!  

 An overwhelming repercussion in the beginning of the next issue, in color pages!

Thanks for reading! ^^ 

[thetalesofthereneverwood]

Journal Entry 431: Confused..?

“This whole city is one jumbled mess kid, don’t think you’re the first to be lost” -Merchant on Tin Street.

I never thought that at this point in my life that I would be this lost, this dazed in my own existence. One would think that coming back to life after death would be clarifying, but now it seems I walk through a fog. All I used to know seems blurred and nothing is the same.

I begin with the one who has caused me the most pain recently. My good friend, Asmund, thinks I am mere coin. COIN! To view someone as only monetary value hurts my soul. I used to think he cared about people and ideas, but perhaps I was the fool. However, perhaps he is hurting me before someone worse can hurt me... something to think about, as he did seem off the last couple of times I went to see him.

Then there is Zia. My heart yearns for her but I will never get close enough. I’ve hurt her too many times by worrying her that I’ll never have a chance. She is so wonderful of a person, someone who is caring yet can be a stern as a mother. Someone who can be playful yet knows when to be serious. She is one of the most amazing people I know, I I screwed it up, ten times over. I can only hope that she will one day see me again as the bard she met when we sat and played music together.

Then there is Maris and Isolde have been some of the nicest people I have ever met. But when I came back, I emotionally scarred him. And Maris is one of my closest friends, I can’t do that to him, it’s a horrible thing. I have tried to keep my distance to give him some time and space but I want to be a part of his life again. I only hope the two liked the gift I made for their newborn.

Then there is Ivegard. When I resparked, part of her flame became mine. I wanted to return it, but quickly figured out from Ivegard that trying that could be catastrophic. I feel horrible as taking that part of that flame without consent. Fortunately, Ivegard has given me a few steps to learn how to do my emotion sharing magic. I hope I can use it for good.

From there, I find myself lost. What have I been doing with myself the past few months? It seems that my former life, one that was stable and meaningful, is gone. I feel that I am living in a haze. But at the same time, I feel more grounded now than I was when I let my head dangle through the clouds. It’s as if everyday is walking through pea fog....

Theren Everwood

[wernerhaggai]

And that viper, the prince, will keep his eyes open, and then .

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[fireintheforest]

27 Hearthfire, 3E 431

It’s been four days since one wrote, and a shame at that because one was so busy in thinking of Casil and telling Light-Fur of her delivery being done and later keeping balance of the books that one completely forgot what one was going to write here! One only remembered because one was going to the center and passed the Temple of Mara and passed Jullen and he asked one how did the whole endeavor go, and when one was telling him one almost told him what one is going to write, if any of that mess makes sense.

SO!

One went to Windhelm to deliver the drugs medicine to Light-Fur’s drug lackey contact in an inn. So far so good, right? The guards let one in, the bartender suspects nothing, all’s good. She’s told one it’s a Nord by the name of Áed, he’s older than Nirn and has three scars across his left cheek one hopes nobody ever reads this journal for fear of now everybody knowing about this mission so when one went to the inn, one found him! And went to sit with him, chatted for a bit, and finally made the delivery. Serah Áed thanked one, paid the barmaid and left with the package.

One stayed behind to finish one’s drink when a Dunmer came to one’s table and asked if the seat was taken. One said no, it’s free and was expecting for him to take the chair and leave but he sat! At! The! Table! With one!

He introduced himself, he said his name was Zerseth, he’d arrived to Windhelm just the year before from Morrowind. He said he worked as a blacksmith, and then he said some things but one wasn’t paying much attention because he was very good looking he’d been plenty of times in the inn’s pub but had never seen one so what gives? And one told him one was here merely for business, he asked what kind and one can’t tell him one is apparently a sudden druglord, so one merely said one was a bartender (not completely a lie) and was delivering a care package for the man from his wife, who was a good friend of one and lived in the same place as one.

He did ask what was a bartender doing delivering packages, one merely pointed out she was one’s friend and it was a relatively short voyage for one from home to Windhelm, so it was no issue. He stopped at that and we kept on talking about other things.

But this remains in one’s thoughts and chest heart inside ? because it was a rather pleasant evening. And he was really nice. We talked, jested a couple times, and finally he said he had to leave but asked if he’d see one tomorrow. One told him that sadly no, one was going back home first thing tomorrow morning. His words were “A shame, I enjoyed talking to you. I hope to see you again.” and winked. At one, in public, before leaving the inn. No ounce of looking nervous that someone had seen him, not something he did in secrecy, but rather open in the inn. One felt like he wasn’t trying to hide anything, or one, from others.

And this was so felt by one because, how many times has one tried to get close to Casil and yet he pushes one away when we’re in public? How many times one tried to grab his hand in the streets at night and he moved his hand away, looked around and then hissed at one not to do it again? How many times one has had to hold back from kissing him until we’re at home? One felt like a dirty secret for so long, and to feel it again in Tamriel, with someone one loves is unfair.

It was an incident that opened one’s eyes about some things in one’s relationship that, hopefully, one can talk to Casil about and we can change, and that one has to ponder about. Other than that, Zerseth was a friendly Mer that one is happy to have met.

[djingcablog]

2 Various Types of DJs: What Kind of DJ are You?

At the point when individuals consider hiring a Vancouver DJ they most likely feel that the service is standard over all DJs. Be that as it may, right? All things considered, the appropriate response is no and I'm going to enlighten you regarding one of the most significant contemplations before hiring a DJ. With the end goal of this blog, I am going to isolate our dearest DJs into two significant classes.

Private Event DJs

In the event that you were going to hire a DJ for high school graduation in Vancouver, for instance, you would presumably be searching for this first category. I like to call them "Private Event DJs". You may better realize them as wedding DJs, private party DJs, corporate party DJs, school dance DJs and numerous different names like this. The motivation behind this sort of DJ is to appear and play what the customer has requested which is regularly indicated in the structure a tracklist sent to the DJ preceding the event. Some portion of the service is regularly given at these events is song request which is actually what it seems like. You can request that the DJ play a song at that moment. Presently now, I'm certain a few people are perusing this contemplating internally "isn't this what each DJ does"? Well if you asked yourself this question this post is for you in light of the fact although a great deal of DJs offer these types of assistance there is another significant classification of DJs that exist and the exact opposite thing you need to do is book an inappropriate DJ for your event and on the other side get reserved for an inappropriate event as a DJ. In this way, on that note, we move onto the second category.

Performing Artist DJs

This second category I have given the name "Performing Artist DJs". For those that are curious about the DJ industry, this might be totally new to you which will make this all the more fascinating! These DJs as you can presumably figure don't give the same services from the above classifications so what are these DJs all about? We should make a plunge!

A "performing Artist DJ" will in general play most of their gigs at clubs, concerts and visits to urban areas like Vancouver where the electronic music scene is blasting! Presently, obviously, these DJs have a ton of indistinguishable abilities from the above DJs and are more than capable of playing those events however the explanation they don't or if nothing else not frequently is a direct result of the factor from which I determined their name! They are performing artists. In this way, alongside DJing, they spend endless hours in the studio making their own music. They produce this music with the purpose of playing it live and these classifications are unmistakably more famous in a club than at a wedding. I need to clarify however that the scenes these DJs perform at frequently have music rules yet a "Performing Artist DJ" will, obviously, attempt to land gigs that elevate comparable music to what they themselves produce. Alongside this, they attempt to keep away from tune demands and top 40 songs like the dark plague! At last, to wrap up the contrast between these two classes are that these DJs will regularly develop into enormous performance acts, making their own creation loaded up with arranged lighting, visual and the sky is the limit from there!

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[everydisneymovie]

Review #42: The Shaggy Dog

Post #46

8/8/2020

Next up is 1959′s The Shaggy Dog

Enjoyment : [2]

It takes a lot of effort to make a movie this boring. You don’t achive this level or uninteresting without actively avoiding good ideas so I have to take a moment to applaud that. I kid you not the actual plot does not start until one full hour into this hour and a half long movie. You’d assume a movie about a troubled teen who gets cursed and transforms into a dog would... ya know... focus on the whole curse thing. Nope, the actual plot is about a team of spies stealing missile launch codes. This ties in NOT AT ALL to any larger themes and to make matters worse there is absolutely no tension for a majority of the movie. Despite being turned into a dog, the main character can still speak english and everyone recognizes him as a dog, so it is less a roadblock and more a mild inconvenience. With one exception, this movie makes no effort to be funny, so it can’t be classified as a comedy, but it also fails at drama. I think I have truly come across a movie that does not have a genre. Its like a meal with no flavor and it just goes on and on and on with nothing interesting to say or show.

Quality : [2]

This movie is very poorly made. The editing is subpar and the acting is overly stiff. I could talk about the bad script or the boring camera work, but we all know why we are here. This has got to be the worst ‘transformation’ practical effects I have ever seen. When the main character transforms into a dog, he falls offscreen, jump cut to him having fake fur glued to his face, he falls offscreen again, jump cut to him having a dog nose and ears glued on, jump cut to a dog just sitting where he was standing. The biggest laugh I got in this movie was how amateur the special effects were. It is Ed Wood level craftsmanship. The talking dog puppet looks fine when not in movement, but the second it is in motion it looks like a nightmare. I have a feeling the budget was in the negatives but that would mean this movie MADE money and I can’t picture a reality where that happened.

Hold up : [4]

This falls neatly in the “nothing racist happened but thats because everyone on screen was white.” category. The only problematic elements in this movie is how the two love interests are portrayed. The girls in this movie get next to no dialogue and are either objects of desire or annoying nags. The two teenage boys leer over girls and act really entitled to their affection, and because of this none of the romantic moments land. Not the most offensive movie Disney has ever made, but thats only because so little happens in the movie to actually get offended by.

Risk : [3]

This was an artistic black hole, where any interesting idea gets sucked down the drain and spat out halfway across the universe. The setting is a bland suburb, the villains are cardboard cut out bad guys, and the gags with the transforming dog are not even clever. I really cannot stress this enough, but there is NO tension because the main character can talk while in dog form. He just explains his situation to people, and most of the time they just sorta, accept it and agree to help. Shouldn’t there be hijinks where he needs to communicate the danger to his family but they think he is a dog and hilarity ensues? Nope, when he is in dog form its the equivalent to him being stuck in a fluffy mascot suit. He can speak, open doors and drive while in dog form and at no point does it hold him back. Try harder next time Disney.

Extra Credit : [1]

This movie gets a single little gold star sticker for ONE joke that works. There is a police officer who keeps spotting the dog/man doing human things like driving a car or using a phone, and he slightly confused yet deadpan acceptance of the absurdity is the ONLY funny thing in this whole movie. He just oozes “Life is already so weird, this might as well happen.” vibes and it made me smirk.

Final thoughts:

Why must the universe punish me for hubris? Sleeping Beauty was so much fun to watch and then I had to suffer through this flavorless oatmeal of a movie. It’s the emotional equivalent of visiting a lovely art gallery, then falling through a sewer grate into a pool of muddy water. This movie is not offensive, and it did not make me angry. So I can give it that, however this is just a wildly uninteresting movie. The curse is hardly explained, and it turns on and off whenever the plot feels like it, and he isn’t even cured by the end, which I assume is why there are several sequels and reboots waiting for me down the line. I really think this movie is utterly worthless. The only forced conflict is that the dad of the main character... kills dogs? Which kinda explains why he doesn’t talk to his parents at first? But then he just explains the situation to his dad and after some shock the dad is just on board to help. They could have made this so funny and so interesting but they just sorta... didn’t. I can’t say anything more than just, they didn’t really try. For the love of god skip it.

Total Score: 12/50

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[aplaceforrtprompts]

Can I request something with Sam from Screwattack (this sounds like I'm ordering something😂). It could be based off of Cinderella, but I'm not a picky person so if you don't want to that its okay anything will do😊. (Can it be fluff as well?) Thank you😀

Word Count: 431

“No. Listen this girl is my soulmate,” Sam insisted looking at his friends with raised eyebrows trying his best to prove he was serious.

Craig made a face, still not buying into the story, “So why is she your soulmate? How do you know you weren’t just drunk in love?”

Sam sighed and looked over to Craig, “I just know. We sat on the back porch for hours and just talked. We talked about nothing and I just did not want to stop and it sort of just hit me like I never wanted this girl to leave my sight. I mean sure after a few more beers we may have moved on from the talking but woo that was pretty magical in its own way.”

“So when are you going to see her again?” Shaun asked with a big smile, loving seeing Sam like this. He scooted forward in his chair just to see his reaction.

“See. That’s where the problem comes in,” Sam started.

Craig and Shaun just stared, waiting for him to continue but as Sam hung his head in disappointment Chad answered for him, “Sam, here didn’t get her number or better yet even her name.”

Shaun made an exasperated noise of disgust, “You slept with your dream girl and you didn’t get her name?!”

“Hold on! I never said I slept with her,” Sam interjected.

“You said you moved onto less work friendly things,” Craig reminded.

“Yeah, dude but that doesn’t have to mean sex,” Sam countered, “Anyways. I do have something. Dream girl left behind a glass slipper.” Sam produced a zippo lighter from his pocket and set it on the table for his friends and the people watching the podcast to see.

“Oh, that’s pretty,” Shaun commented on the unique design of it.

Chad laughed, “Why didn’t you show me that earlier? I know who your Cinderella is.” Everyone’s attention went to Chad and he held his hands up. “Have any of you met the new intern?” With a few blank stares, Chad took everyone’s answer to be no. He rolled his eyes and called you from the other room.

You cautiously poked your head in the room and asked Chad, “What’s up?” Your attention was caught from the familiar blond sitting next to him and you relaxed into an easy smile, “Hey, Sam.” Your eyes fell to the table as Sam tried to play cool. You crossed in front of the camera and picked up the small object on the table you had thought you lost this weekend, “Oh, hey! My lighter. Sweet.”