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ordinaryschmuck · 3 years

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What I Thought About "Eda's Requiem" from The Owl House

Salutations, random people on the internet who certainly won’t read this! I am an Ordinary Schmuck. I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons.

...

...HOW IS SEASON TWO SO GOOD?! WE'VE HAD SEVEN EPISODES SO FAR, AND EACH ONE OF THEM WAS A HIT!

Take "Eda's Requiem," for example. It's yet another episode where I have NOTHING bad to say about it! That's two weeks in a row where that happened! HOW DOES THIS HAPPEN?!

HOW!

...But anyways, "Eda's Requiem." It's another fantastic episode, and I'm about to dive into explaining how and why. Just keep in mind, it's gonna require spoilers to do so, so be wary of that as you keep reading.

Now, let's review, shall we?

WHAT I LIKED

Eda’s Checklist and Grom Photo: Within the first second, "Eda's Requiem" perfectly sets up Eda's central conflict in the episode. Despite spending years being on her own and looking after herself, she now has two kids that she's constantly caring over. Eda can try all she wants to say that she doesn't care, and I bet she has in the past. But given the hard work she's putting into getting King and Luz what they need and having a grom photo of the three of them together pinned in her mirror, it's pretty clear that those two knuckleheads wormed their way into her heart and are never getting out.

Eda’s Worried About King and Luz Leaving: And thus, that's precisely why something like this bothers her so much. Eda inadvertently adopted two rambunctious rapscallions (Yeah, I know. I'll get to it), so the idea of them not being around her anymore is going to be terrifying. That is a situation most parents, especially mothers, can identify with. It’s called empty nest syndrome and it proves just how much Eda loves Luz and King that she can't stand the thought of her babies leaving the nest. It's yet another well-made, wholesome, found-family moment that this series continues to excel at each week, making me extra excited for more like it to come...while also readying myself for heartbreak when one of them eventually does leave Eda.

Eda and Raine’s Music: Ok, I don't know the exact instruments that were played during this episode, but I also don't care because it was all (for lack of a better term) music to my ears. Every time Eda and Raine played resulted in melodies that are so beautiful and filled with so much emotion and feeling that I'm honestly tempted to listen to them again, multiple times, on repeat. Shows rarely do that for me, as background music doesn't always draw me in as much as lyrical songs do. Usually, it takes something so extraordinarily composed to give me the desire to listen again, and that's the case here. So huge congrats to Brad Breek for doing so. Seriously, the man's been killing it this season.

Eda’s Bard Magic Causing Things to Turn to Ash: This was assuredly a surprise side-effect of the curse. The fact that Eda can sort of do magic at all was its own shock. To then reveal that a specific type can do dangerous things to people and environments is...Well, it definitely brings up its own fair share of questions. Like, how can she do this? Will she do it again, one day? And are there other types of spells that can be negatively affected by Eda's curse? We don't get answers for any of these questions, and odds are, we never will. But that's alright with me. Because if a show makes me consider these many possibilities after a brief amount of time, it is a show that has to be doing something right. Even if I don't get the answers I want, the fact that it caused such a reaction makes me less willing to care.

Raine Whispers: Hey, would you look at that. Another fun, interesting, and compelling character added to the list of this shows' other fun, interesting, and compelling characters...how is this series so good at this!?

Joking aside, Raine's pretty good. I like Raine. They could have been this super serious leader who lost all their fun after years apart from Eda, but I'm glad that they're not. There are moments when Raine takes their job as leader of the BATs seriously, as one would, but I still prefer the fact that they kept a jovial nature despite how grim their situation is. It's an admirable trait to have, and it avoids the trope of making leader characters boring just because they're the ones who have to take things seriously.

Oh, and also, Raine's Disney's first non-binary character who has a stake in the plot. This is a tremendous deal, as you don't usually see that many non-binary characters in children's animation, let alone ones that hold importance to the story. So it's pretty cool for the writers to feature Raine, as it helps several kids feel as though they're finally seen and respected. And the fact that Disney of all companies gave the thumbs up is even more impressive. I hear people say that Dana Terrace should have pitched The Owl House to more progressive networks to avoid pushback, and while I absolutely see your point, I'll have to respectfully disagree. Disney is the largest entertainment industry of all time, so if you want to make LGBTQA+ representation normalized, you gotta stop making splashes and start making waves. Because if the same company that made three racist cats in the span of a few years manages to say that being gay is a-ok, then you know there's something wrong with you. Yes, Disney ended up screwing over the show anyway. But for that one moment, when kids felt pride after seeing a character like Raine, then, in the end, it's kind of worth it.

Also, if you're still having issues with more representation like this popping up in kids' shows, then allow me to redirect you to the complaint department.

...I made that post earlier today for this bit. YOU HAVE BETTER APPRECIATED IT!

Day of Unity is meant to be a Secret: At least, that's what I got when Raine stumbled over their own words. So if it's true, then I wonder why? Why does Belos want to keep the most critical change in the Boiling Isles a secret? Does he want to make it a surprise for his grateful subjects, or does he not want to spread worry and fear amongst the wild witches? It has to be something big if he doesn't want his followers to even say the words "Day of Unity." Whatever reason he has, we most likely won't know until the future. A future that I grow more and more afraid of each week.

Hooty Eating Echo Mouse: My heart sank in that brief moment when I thought that Hooty intensely screwed Luz over in getting back home. But looking back...it is pretty funny.

Just the suddenness of Hooty eating the poor creature that Luz desperately tried to earn its trust is priceless in how shocking it was. And also, Luz's expression.

That was the look of a young girl who immediately shoved her hand down an owl demon's throat the second the scene cut away. The Owl House may not always be a hit in the comedy department, but scenes like this prove that when it's funny, it is hilarious.

Luz and King Entering the Grand Prix: Not much to discuss here. It's just a cute subplot that adds frivolity to the intensity of what's going on through Eda and Raine's story. But I will say that I love how both stories occasionally interconnect with each other through the many moments of Eda being worried about King wanting to leave to find his father and avoiding any conversation about it. It helps both plotlines feel like they belong together, without being something like "Through the Looking Glass Ruins," whereas both stories could have been in their own episode. Which is neat.

How Bard Magic Works: I really love how this season is diving into how the other magic types work. More specifically, the ones that seem a little vague. I mean, stuff like healing, potions, and plants are easy to figure out, but what does it mean when a witch's talents are construction, beast keeping, and bard magic? We've been getting a lot of clearing up lately, with bard magic looking like a witch can control their environments and enemies through the power of music. Which is fair. Music is pretty powerful in the metaphorical sense, and I actually love that it's powerful in the literal sense when in the Boiling Isles.

The BATs: Not much to comment on these three either. The BATs have the potential to have an entertaining dynamic, but they do very little in this episode that I can't say much other than I hope they make a return in the future. But I will make this claim: Amber is my favorite. I'm sorry, but her screaming "You're not our mom!" to then go, "Bye, mommy Eda" is just too precious for me not to love.

I'm a simple man who falls for cute s**t. Leave me alone.

Raeda (RainexEda): Well, EdaxCamila, you were a fun crack ship while it lasted, but I'm afraid that this is now goodbye. The current canon has provided an incredibly adorable and believable relationship that I would be a monster not to support with my whole bi-heart. It's been real.

Ok, back in serious mode: I love these two together. Eda and Raine are grown-ups, and they still act all flustered near each other as if they were still Luz and Amity's age. It's definitive proof that you're never too old to get flustered near a crush, and seeing them interact adds a sense of wholesomeness when seeing them together as well as heartbreak when they're forced apart. Plus, we get confirmation that Eda's LGBTQA+! Whether she's bi, pan, or whatever, now that we know Eda can catch feelings for someone like Raine, it's yet another case that The Owl House is the most important series to the community. Because having the main character be queer is fantastic in its own right. But having the same apply to the motherly mentor figure? That's is an extra bit of normalization that anybody would be willing to appreciate.

Unique Guard Designs: Not many fans are going to appreciate this, primarily compared to everything else this episode does perfectly. For me, I actually like that you see a few Coven Guards looking differently from the others, as it helps make them less like clones and makes it seem like anybody of any body type could be a part of the coven.

Gus Looking Uninterested when Presenting Grand Prix with his Dad: I am positive that you didn't notice this (I didn't even notice it until someone else pointed it out), but there's something to dissect here. It hints that perhaps Gus isn't as interested in his father's field of work as one might think. If he did, he would look a lot less bored and much more excited to be helping Perry Porter present the race. It could just be the race itself, but judging from Gus' expression, it really seems like the kid would prefer to be anywhere but there. And why would he have that reaction to a race that his best friend is competing in? To me, this seems like an inkling of what Gus' relationship with Perry could be, which may not actually get time to shine, what with how little wiggle room the series has now (Thanks Disney). Regardless, it is interesting to notice, and it will certainly have fans thinking for a while.

Bump Being Smug of Luz Being in the Lead: That's it. Principal Bump looking smug as his human student is beating the students of his rivals is yet another moment that proves why Bump is easily the best cartoon principal.

Darius: First of all, this guy is f**king fabulous, and I love him. *Snaps*

Second, he is definitive proof that you do NOT want to f**k around with Coven Leaders. Lilith may have had her intimidating moments, but none of them compare to the guy who can turn himself into an abomination monster where only magic that hasn't existed before can take him down. It's genuinely scary to see Darius lose control, and I fear for the day when Luz inevitably ends up in his crosshairs.

With that said, Darius' still a ton of fun! He may be threatening, but he's just a flamboyant guy that hates the idea of getting his outfit the tiniest bit dirty. And I love that. I love that these Coven Heads have actual personalities instead of being generically evil. I consider it preferable to make villains entertaining rather than blatantly scary as I'll remember the personalities first and the villainous acts last.

Eberwolf: But this one's my favorite. I told you: I'm a simple man who gets easily swayed by cute s**t. And Eber? I mean, just look at her:

She's just a cute widdle rascal! I just want to pinch her cheeks, give her a belly rub, and--

...Eberwolf is not a cute widdle rascal. She is a strong, independent woman, and I will respect her as such from this moment forward...lest I feel her wrath.

That is all. Let's move on.

Eda and Raine Attempting a Final Performance: This was the best scene of the episode. It looked gorgeous, it shows the dedication Eda and Raine have for stopping Belos, and it says so much through so little. Go back and look at how Eda and Raine regard one another when performing Eda's requiem. Through their expressions and a few short words, you know they understand that if they complete the song/spell, they probably won't make it in the end. And yet, they don't care. They both know bad stuff will happen if Belos wins, so Eda and Raine put everything to the side, both their feelings for one another and the people they leave behind if it means putting an end to a tyrant. That level of dedication...Words can't fully describe how powerful that is.

Raine Sacrificing Themselves Instead: But in the end, Raine can't do it. Not when they know the life that Eda has and the people she'll be leaving behind. It's an extra bit of nobleness to the character seeing that Raine refuses to take away a woman from two kids who need her the most. A tad bit selfish, sure, knowing what Belos has planned. But when it comes to love, the romantic, familial, or platonic, the best decisions aren't always the logical ones.

Eda Crying: Luz crying tears me up, but seeing Eda cry is a whole different level of heartbreak. Like Lilith, Eda has her emotions locked up tight, with the closest she came to weeping were those two tears in "Young Blood, Old Souls." In "Eda's Requiem," she cries but almost quickly stops herself. As if she knows that doing so isn't going to save Raine. That is...even worse than seeing Luz break down after losing Eda. The fact that Eda refuses to give herself time to mourn losing someone she loved is tragic because crying is the most natural way of showing grief. Turning that off isn't healthy, and seeing her do it with little resistance is sad to me. It's sad to see a character I love can easily shut off all emotions despite how badly she may want to embrace them. It's one of those moments that, again, by doing so little, it shows so much.

“No one watches Crystal Balls anymore. It’s all about streaming.”: Oof. Even I felt that burn towards cable.

King’s Message: King's message was the pick-me-up I needed after the heart-wrenching sadness this episode put me through a few minutes ago. Seeing King say who he is and listing all the things he loves is nothing short of adorable. On top of that, I adore that Eda willingly recorded the whole thing. She may not want King to leave, but that doesn't mean she'll sabotage the one thing he wants. Especially not after Raine gave up everything so Eda could be with her kids. The opening scene may prove how much Eda cares about a rascal like King, but this heartwarmingly sweet moment reveals just how far she'll go to make him happy.

King’s Dad Reveal: ...ok, I'll be honest, I did not think we'd get that reveal this soon. Dumb of me to say, considering the number of times I've said that these writers don't waste time getting to the s**t, I know. But still, it's pretty cool knowing that King's dad is alive and well, added with the fact that we've got a fair idea of what he looks like. At this point, it's only a matter of time before we see him figure out where the Clawthorne residence is and witness the tear-jerking moments that will follow.

King Changing his Name to King Clawthorne: Not the official adoption I was expecting Eda to make...but DANG IT, is it still diabetes-inducing levels of sweetness!

Personally, I feel like the main reason why Eda breaks down this time is not only because she shouldn't be worried about King leaving her life, but also because Raine's sacrifice wasn't in vain. Her kids really do need Eda because no matter how far apart they'll be, she will always be a part of their life...dang it, I'm going to cry too!

What those Coven patches really do: Well...that was horrifying to see.

...Writers, if you kill off the best non-binary character in animation (it's a short list, I know), we are going to have PROBLEMS!

IN CONCLUSION

"Eda's Requiem" is--surprise surprise--another A+. The emotions hit hard, the representation hits harder, Raine is a fantastic addition to the cast, and it was all surprisingly cute at times. Season Two is currently on a hot streak, constantly winning with every episode that's come out so far. When a bad episode does eventually show up (IT'S GONNA HAPPEN!), I'll be sure to sing my requiem then. For now, I'm just gonna enjoy the ride.

#the owl house #the owl house season 2 #the owl house reviews #eda clawthorne #raine whispers #raeda #king of demons #toh darius #toh eberwolf #what i thought about

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cannibalisticapple · 5 years

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So around a week or two ago I sent an anonymous ask to @corndog-patrol suggesting Villain Mic finding a Cat!Shouta. When I saw it on my phone in the car, I had to stop myself from reading until I could get home and look at it in full on my computer. It has been so much better than I could have ever imagined.

Seeing all the doodles and artwork so far has been a HUGE inspiration for me, and I ended up writing this over the past week. Because I am physically incapable of writing anything short, it kinda ballooned to almost 8k words, partially because I ended up adding to it as more art was posted. The majority of it was written before the bowtie pic though, including the opening scene. (Fun fact: I originally called Shouta “Pepper”.)

It’s been a while since I’ve posted, well, anything to Tumblr, so apologies for any weird formatting issues! And thanks again to @corndog-patrol for making such a great Villain Mic AU! Anyways, enjoy!

The Adventures of Puddles

Given his known fondness for cats, most of Shouta’s friends and colleagues often teased him about how getting hit by a Quirk that turned him into a cat would be a dream come true for him.

They were wrong.

The hero-turned-feline felt thoroughly irritated as he loped down the street, the heavy downpour soaking him thoroughly and weighing down his thick black fur with water. He’d been turned into a cat while heading to UA just that evening, and since then he’d been rather unhappy. Nemuri had laughed her head off when she found him halfway to her apartment with his goggles around his neck and his capture weapon dragging along the ground behind him, which really hadn’t helped much.

Considering he’d been found by Nemuri relatively fast, he should be safe and dry right now, but then Nemuri had taken him to UA. Logically it made sense of course, Shouta would be safe there and he’d have easy access to a support network to find a way to reverse the transformation. Unfortunately, he hadn’t accounted for how the kids would react. One of them had sighted Nemuri carrying him inside, and Nemuri had no hesitation dumping him on the student with a sadistic grin while she went to meet with the other staff.

After spending an hour being assaulted by his students cooing over him and ruffling him from twenty different directions at once (literally), he’d desperately craved some space and alone time. The sight of Snipe and Cementoss sneaking around with cameras and phones ready, clearly intending to take photos of his ordeal, had been the last push he needed to jump the wall and get away from UA for a bit. He knew the area well enough, he should be safe to walk around a couple hours even as a cat. Key word: should.

It was just his luck he’d get chased by someone’s dog for what must have been half a mile, ending with him lost in an only vaguely familiar part of town. His attempts to find his way back had only succeeded in making him more lost over the ensuing hours, the vaguely familiar scenery giving way to buildings he absolutely did not recognize. And of course, it also had to start raining shortly after that.

Right now, he just wanted to get out of the heavy rain. He was wet, cold, tired, and felt sore in ways he didn’t even know possible until being turned into a cat. Turns out having your body undergo a radical physical transformation tended to put some stress on muscles and preexisting injuries. Go figure. At least his dry eye hadn’t seemed to transfer over, but that didn’t make him any less stressed.

The feeling only amplified when he stepped in a puddle and proceeded to plummet into it with a startled yowl, water splashing everywhere. Of course this sidewalk would have a giant hole in it that flooded with water and turned into a miniature, cat-sized bath. The hole was deep enough his head barely stuck above the water, the chilly temperature making him shudder. He scrabbled at the edges with an annoyed growl, trying to pull himself out.

“Hey, you okay little buddy?” The voice behind him made him freeze, the fur on his back standing on end. Shit. He knew that voice. His head whipped around to see a man crouching behind him, and while he wasn’t wearing his costume, Shouta couldn’t think of anyone else with a loud voice who also sported a stupid mustache like that. This had to be Present Mic.

Great, just great, he thought sarcastically. For some odd reason the idiot wasn’t wearing a raincoat in this weather, his long blond hair partially pulled into a bun with the loose strands plastered to his face and shoulders by the rain. How the guy could even see with all those water droplets on his glasses was beyond Shouta. “Oh man, I always said someone was gonna fall into this stupid thing. Come on, let’s get you out.”

Shouta silently glowered at the villain as he reached out to him but made no effort to push him away. Trying to get a good grip on the pavement was tricky with the rain making everything so slippery. Maybe if he could figure out how to get his claws to pop out, but he’d yet to figure out a lot of his new form’s functions. Frankly, the fact he could walk at all was a miracle considering he’d never used a four-legged body before.

So the sulking cat allowed the blond villain to carefully slip his hands around Shouta’s... armpits? Well, his hands went between around the edges of his front legs and shoulders, so, close enough—and pull him out of the hole. Rather than put him down like he expected though, Mic shifted his hold to carry the grumpy feline, turning to walk to a nearby apartment building. “Come on, let’s get you inside so we can dry you off. My place is just over there!”

...And now Mic was taking him to his apartment. Crap. Shouta naturally began to struggle, wanting to get the hell back to UA instead, but Mic had a surprisingly strong grip. In the end he gave up and just sulked in the villain’s arms with a grumpy scowl as the blond draped a towel over him, resigned to his fate. At least he was out of the rain.

“Oh man, you’re lucky I found you!” Mic commented, looking down at him with a concerned frown. “A lil’ fella like yourself could drown in all that rain!” He switched on the light switch by the door, illuminating one of the most rundown and shabby apartments Shouta had ever seen. And considering his meager salary as an underground hero, he’d seen a lot of crummy places while apartment hunting. “You’ll be safe here, just make yourself at home you little cutie!”

Shouta just silently scowled at his current predicament. He just wanted to get warm and dry and take a nice, long nap until this stupid Quirk wore off. (It better wear off.)

The Quirk did not wear off.

Morning found Shouta still very much a feline, much to his ire. He woke up well before Mic, the blond snoozing away in his bedroom (Shouta had chosen to sleep on the couch, which had literal patches sewn on it, he’d never seen that outside cartoons), and Shouta felt no small amount of irritation at the fact he still had this stupid feline body. At least he was warm and dry now. That didn’t make him any happier about the situation though.

A glance at the bathroom mirror had revealed himself to be particularly mangy and stocky rather than sleek and agile-looking like most cats. His long hair had turned into thick, shaggy fur, the black coloration adding an air of dirtiness as opposed to the soft and fluffy feeling exuded by Mic’s actual cat. Sprinkles, if the name written on the food bowl was accurate.

Speaking of the food bowl, Mic was now beaming down at Shouta as he sat next to the now-full bowl. “Come on, it’s safe to eat!” Mic goaded—nay, practically pleaded with him, his mouth pulled into a pout as he looked down at Shouta. “You have to be hungry, little guy!”

Shouta just glowered at him, ignoring the bowl. Nope. Not gonna eat that. He might be a cat for now (seriously this stupid thing better wear off on its own), but he was NOT going to eat cat food.

Mic sighed, seeming to accept the fact as he turned to begin rifling through the cabinet. Good, looks like he got the picture and was looking for something else to feed him. “It’s the bowl, right?” he muttered. Wait, what? Mic turned around holding a cracked plastic soup bowl, dumping another scoop of kitty kibble into it before setting it next to Shouta. “There! This bowl doesn’t smell like Sprinkles, so it should be good, right?”

He beamed down at Shouta, clearly proud of his understanding of cats. Shouta just stared at him blandly, making no move to touch it, and Mic soon deflated. “Eh, you’ll get hungry try it eventually,” he muttered, turning away with a sigh and trudging off to his bedroom. Shouta watched him leave with a blank face, still pointedly ignoring the bowl of cat food.

As he sat there Sprinkles sauntered over and plopped down on the floor next to him, blinking her large eyes at him as she studied him curiously. Normally, Shouta would be happy to be in the presence of a cat, especially one who seemed as sweet and friendly as Sprinkles. Seeing as he himself was currently a cat, however, he found his joy slightly diminished. He couldn’t exactly pet her with paws, which sucked since her fluffy white fur looked particularly soft and silky.

For now, he settled for patting her leg with his paw to try to satiate the urge. Sadly, it did not have the same effect as running his fingers through her fur. He sulked up until he heard a gasp, and turned to see Mic staring at him with sparkly eyes from the door to his bedroom. He bounced over with a giant grin and bent down next to them. “So adorable!” he gushed, rubbing Shouta’s head affectionately.

At this point, Shouta’s broody mood outweighed the urge to claw off his hand.

“So, I already have Sprinkles,” Mic mused aloud, “So what do you think of the name... Pickles?”

Scratch that. Shouta proceeded to do so literally, highly satisfied by the startled and pained yelp from the blond.

“Ow! Ow! Okay, not Pickles! Ouch, that really hurts!”

Day two of being a cat. Shouta was now covered in clothes while Mic loudly rooted through his dresser.

“Where is that shirt?” Mic grumbled to himself, tossing a pair of jeans over his shoulder. Why he apparently stored pants and shirts in the same drawers, Shouta had no idea. Why did a person need this many clothes? Granted, he barely bothered with more than the minimal amount needed himself. But still.

Also, what was that guy even aiming at? Shouta was sitting in the doorway, not even fully in the room!

Mic made a sound of triumph as he held up a shirt in an eye-searing chartreuse, on the more yellow end of the spectrum. A fact Shouta knew only because he’d spent an hour arguing with one of his students over demanding to use the color in their costume two years ago. Why. Why did anyone have clothing in that shade.

Mic turned around with a grin, but his smile quickly faded to a look of confusion. “Puddles? Puddles, where are you?” Shouta’s eye twitched, still displeased with the name (seriously, what was with this guy’s preoccupation with English words?), but it beat literally every other suggestion the villain had. Even if he didn’t like the whole reminder of being pulled out of a puddle.

He gave a displeased mrow and Mic blinked and bent down next to the discarded pile of clothes, lifting up a pants leg to see Shouta’s eyes glowering up at him. “Oh, there you are, you silly baby!” Shouta glared at him, willing all his disdain to show through his eyes. Mic was unfazed. “Aw, geez, now I need to wash the hair off this stuff!” Mic playfully scolded as he started picking up the clothes.

You literally threw it on me, Shouta thought silently. You have no one to blame but yourself for this. He waited patiently for Mic to lift the clothes off him, depositing them on his bed to be washed later. Shouta took silent pleasure in the glimpse of black hairs stuck to them.

Mic pulled on the eye-searing shirt while Shouta continued to sit and brood, chattering all the while. “Man, I am so stoked to see this band tonight! I feel kinda bad leaving you alone here all day when you’re still getting used to the place, but you’ll have Sprinkles to keep you company so you shouldn’t be too lonely!” He grabbed what Shouta presumed to be his work uniform and folded the shirt over his arm, giving Shouta a final pet as he strode past him. Shouta remained in place, pointedly ignoring him as he continued to sulk and brood.

Approximately ten seconds later Mic returned, looking notably dejected. “Your bowl is still full,” he said glumly. “Are you seriously on some sort of hunger strike?” Shouta made a rumbling noise halfway between a meow and a grumble, and Mic groaned, dragging his hand down his face. “C’mon, Puddles, I’m on a limited budget here! Do I need to steal expensive food for you?”

Shouta responded with a pointed glare. He would NOT condone Mic stealing cat food for him. As a hero, he couldn’t allow even the most trivial of crimes, even if they had good intentions behind them. Plus, he had a feeling the blond would try feeding him a wet canned food next, and the thought of the slimy-looking can-shaped meat chunk just made him want to shudder.

(He pointedly ignored the fact he stole one of the pieces of chicken from Mic’s dinner last night when the blond wasn’t looking. He was a cat right now, cats did not need to obey any laws, and snagging food from someone’s plate wasn’t exactly illegal anyway.)

“I still have that concert tonight so it’ll have to wait until tomorrow,” Mic sighed, and then nodded to himself with a look of renewed resolve. “I can’t let you starve though! We’ll have to improvise for now!” He marched off to the kitchen, and Shouta followed silently, letting himself feel a glimmer of hope. That hope was soon rewarded when he found Mic rooting through the fridge, pulling out a can of sardines.

Not my first choice but I’ll take it. Shouta trotted over as Mic put it on a paper plate, hopping onto the counter to begin chowing down before he could even pick up the plate. Relief visibly flooded Mic’s face as he ate, his shoulders slumping and a breath of air escaping him. “Oh thank goodness, I was getting worried there! Kinda picky for a stray though, aren’tcha?” Shouta just rumbled in the back of his throat, too busy eating to respond otherwise.

“Welp, I gotta run if I want to get to work on time,” Mic said, glancing at the clock. “See you later, cool cats! Sprinkles, make sure Puddles doesn’t get into trouble while I’m gone!” The white cat meowed in response, and with a jaunty wave Mic departed, the click of the door shutting and locking ringing particularly heavily in the ensuing silence. Shouta’s head snapped up, eyes locking on the door.

Okay, he’s finally gone. Time to see if I can find an escape route. Shouta had no intention of staying here absolutely longer than necessary; the sooner he found someone he knew, the better. Finishing off the sardines, he leaped off the counter and made his way to the door, determined to get out.

Ten minutes of trying to open it later, he found his resolve faltering though. Cat paws just weren’t good for turning round doorknobs, even with the advantage of knowing how they worked. And that didn’t even account for trying to just reach it. There were no convenient surfaces near the handle to stand on, so he spent most of those ten minutes just hopping up and down trying to reach it.

As he found himself clinging to the knob with all four limbs trying desperately not to slide off, he finally conceded this probably wouldn’t work.

Letting himself fall to the ground, he proceeded to sullenly slink to the rest of the apartment to search for an alternate route. He’d neglected to explore the apartment the previous day beyond the bathroom and the main living space, as he’d rather not look around a villain’s place too much. Beyond the whole “don’t intend to stay more than a day” thing, he didn’t really feel keen on the “invasion of privacy” thing. The man might be technically a villain, but honestly, Shouta viewed him as more of a nuisance than dangerous.

After checking the window in the living room and confirming it would be even more of a hassle to open than the front door, he reluctantly turned his attention to the bedroom. The door was half-closed, and he felt apprehensive as he crept towards it because, again, invasion of privacy. He’d only sat outside the door that morning because Mic was being noisy and he was curious. He hadn’t been able to see a window then, but there could be one on the wall outside his view, and if he got lucky it would be open. So he nudged open the door, looking around, and—

............

That was a lot of Eraserhead merchandise.

Shouta just stared at the collection of posters and other objects in the corner where two dressers met, as if staring would make it disappear or somehow become... something else. Anything else. But nope, it all stayed in place, from the folded shirt to the homemade banner with ‘ERASERHEAD’ written in large English letters.

I don’t even HAVE merchandise. What the actual hell. Those looked like replicas of his capture weapon and goggles, though the color was slightly off, and... Was that a plushie of him? Hopping onto one of the dressers and prodding at the small doll curiously, he confirmed it was, indeed, a hand-made plushie of him.

Mic returned several hours later to Sprinkles pawing at Shouta as he hid under the couch. Mic, naturally, just assumed Shouta was spooked and proceeded to spend about half an hour trying to coax him out. Shouta pointedly ignored his cooing and just remained curled up in the safe embrace of the darkness, wishing desperately he could unsee what he had seen.

Day three of being a cat. Shouta had finally emerged from his spot under the couch to dine on more sardines, having resumed his usual cool demeanor after the initial shock and embarrassment at seeing the shrine. What shrine? Shouta saw absolutely no hand-made plushies or other merchandise of himself, Mic’s room was absolutely normal. Well, as normal as a bedroom belonging to Present Mic could be.

More important than nonexistent merchandise, he was starting to wonder if the Quirk had a time limit. Was he doomed to be forever a cat? No, no, he’d give it a week before he started to panic. A lot of long-lasting Quirks had a week-long time limit, there was no reason to assume it didn’t have a limit. No need to freak out just yet—

What was that spot?

Shouta froze, transfixed by a yellowish dot moving on the floor next to him. Gaze following it intently, he tentatively slapped his paw over it, only for it to appear on top of it. He blinked in mild surprise, and when he withdrew his paw the spot didn’t move with it instead, remaining in the exact place on the floor.

Had he been human he would have frowned at it, so for now he settled for squinting. What is this thing? After a few seconds the weird spot moved away and bounced in a small circle along the tile floor. Eyes narrowing, he slowly crept towards it and pounced again, only for it to once more appear atop his paw.

Another confused blink, and he quickly retreated, circling it warily. He slowly reached out to tap it, watching the spot overlap with his dark fur before quickly withdrawing his paw. Nearby he heard Mic give a soft giggle, which he chose to ignore as he inspected the spot more thoroughly. Obviously it wasn’t a bug, or even anything physical.

Is it a light? he thought. It was the most reasonable explanation. But what kind of yellow light is that small and able to move like that? The only light he could think of were—wait.

Shouta abruptly froze as the spot zoomed away, just staring into space as gears clicked into place in his mind.

Did I seriously fall for a laser pointer? he thought in disbelief. Another soft giggle from Mic drew his attention to the blond, and he confirmed his suspicion instantly upon seeing him pointing a pen-like device towards the wall. His left hand pressed against his mouth as he watched the two cats from a distance, an amused smile peeking through his fingers.

I fell for a laser pointer, Shouta mentally reiterated in mild shock.

In his defense, his new eyes had a more limited range of color so he couldn’t exactly tell the light was red. Had he been able to see its color, he would’ve made the connection right away. Somehow, his newfound red-green colorblindness had slipped his mind with everything else going on. Come to think of it, that hideous shirt Mic wore yesterday might not actually be that hideous. Huh.

As Shouta stared at him Mic’s smile faded, his hand lowering from his mouth as he frowned. He looked kind of... disappointed? Shouta blinked, briefly confused by the change in expression, until he saw the laser zoom past his paws again. Oh. Mic was still trying to play with him. Yeah, Shouta got pretty dejected too when his own cat lost interest.

As he watched Mic’s shoulders slump he felt a twinge of guilt, and decided to take pity on the man. He abruptly spun and pounced onto the light, the laser bouncing wildly as Mic startled. As the laser swerved away and Shouta chased after it, he snuck a glance at Mic to find him grinning brilliantly, his eyes sparkling. That looked much better than the sad look he’d been sporting.

Shouta was only doing this because he was bored. Cats had very limited options for mental stimulation, it was only logical to take advantage of a distraction when he had the chance. The fact it made Mic happy had nothing to do with it. Nothing at all.

Day four of being a cat.

Shouta was learning more about Mic than he ever wanted to, and not just because he was forced to inhabit the same space as the man. No, Mic had apparently decided that cats made perfect receptacles for venting.

Shouta felt ready for a villain to burst through the wall and end his misery now as Mic laid on his bed, venting to him in a manner eerily reminiscent a teenage girl. The comparison was more apt than Shouta expected actually, given the man’s obsession with appearances and melodramatic tendencies in his villain persona. He kind of reminded him of an unholy fusion of Ashido and Jirou.

So far he’d heard everything. Rants about the awful music selection played at the convenience store on the way to his job. The atrocious battery life of his cell phone and the hassle of carrying a charger everywhere. The apartment manager who always drew out and loudly over-enunciated her words after she first noticed his hearing aids, making it even harder to understand her (actually a valid grievance, Shouta admitted).

And Shouta just sat there with a grumpy look, trying to convey his utter lack of interest through his sour glare. Part of him contemplated just leaving, but he had actually been quite comfortable sitting on this pillow before Mic came in and flopped onto the bed with an exasperated, “You won’t believe the day I’ve had!” Aside from the noise, this pillow was still quite comfortable, much moreso than the couch, which was worn enough he could feel the springs creak under his weight. So he just tried to ignore the venting.

It was not as easy as he hoped.

“—And then there’s my shitty job—god I hate that place!” the blond muttered, poking Shouta’s ear. His ear twitched away from the touch, just squinting at him with disdain. You seem to hate a lot of places, he thought sarcastically. “They treat me like shit!” Most “villains” would try destroy a place if they really hated it that much.

“It’s all just so horrible!” the blond finished with a dramatic groan, while Shouta watched on with absolutely no sympathy. Screw this, the couch is lumpy but at least it’s quiet there. He was about to get up and leap away when the blond perked up, a bright smile lighting up his face. “But y’know what makes everything better?”

No, what? Shouta thought sarcastically, knowing he’d find out either way.

“Eraserhead!” Wait what? Shouta tensed at the mention of his name, staring wide-eyed and starting to feel rising panic as Mic began gushing about him. “Seeing him always makes me so much happier!” Okay, he really should have seen this coming, since the villain was pretty overt about his romantic intentions towards Shouta in... literally every encounter they had. “He’s my boyfriend y’know? Sooo cute!” Wait, wait, what—no, back up!! We’re not dating— “He kicks my ass a lot but only ’cuz that’s his job!”

Don’t say it like! That makes it sound like an abusive relationship!! A distressed hiss nearly escaped Shouta, but it was silenced by the all-consuming panic and embarrassment that had gripped him. Mic had a dreamy-looking smile on his face, his eyes almost glittering as he loudly proclaimed, “I love him a lot!”

Oh my god. He really IS a teenage girl. Shouta felt like he was watching a disaster movie play out in real time, and in a way he was. The disaster that was Mic’s delusional take of their relationship. Did this idiot even understand how healthy relationships worked!? Why do you even love me so much!?

Maybe his feline features were more expressive than he thought, or maybe Mic was just in a mood to gush over him, because the blond gave a dreamy sigh and proceeded to elaborate.

“Man, you should see him in action. He’s so graceful and agile, like a cat.” More literally than you know right now, Shouta thought sullenly. “And he totally doesn’t back down even if the other guy’s, like, ten times his size!” That would be a sixty-foot-tall person, Mic. That would be unrealistic and just makes me sound reckless. “And he manages to take them down with nothing but his skills and his awesome scarf!” I wish I could take down a sixty-foot-tall giant with just that.

“And plus, he totally punched a reporter in the face this one time!” Mic continued, and that one admittedly caught Shouta’s attention. Usually people highlighted that incident as a bad one, not a good quality. “It’s just, there’s so many heroes out there who only seem to care about the press, y’know?

“Don’t get me wrong, I love big and flashy stunts as much as the next guy—I mean, as long as I’m not, you know, actually facing All Might myself, haha, oh thank god he’s retired now and that won’t ever happen—but some of them just feel... hollow.” Mic waved his hand with a vague frown. muttering. “Like, they do it more for the cameras than a feeling of doing good, I guess?

“But Eraserhead,” he breathed with a small smile, rolling onto his side to gaze at the totally nonexistent shrine as he rambled, “He doesn’t care about that stuff. He’s willing to put his life on the line to save everyone! Hell, that poster of him over there” which does not exist “doesn’t show it, but he has this big scar under his eye. Like this, see?”

He twisted his torso to face Shouta again and traced a crescent-shaped line under his right eye, mirroring the one currently visible on Shouta’s face at that very moment, seriously how dense could a guy be!? “And you know how he got it?” Mic asked, and yes, he did. It was hard to forget having his face slammed into the pavement and ground against it by a Noumu while his students were watching nearby—

“He got it protecting his students, barely even a full week after meeting them.”

The sheer reverence in Mic’s voice silenced any snarky internal commentary, Shouta just blinking slowly. Any lingering traces of the dopey smile had faded by this point, replaced by a more serious look he rarely saw on the blond. “Eraserhead almost died then. I heard he was lucky to even still be able to see. I sent him a card of course, and took over his patrol route for him until he got better,” wait, was THAT why there wasn’t a massive spike in crime while he was gone, “but man, it was such a close call...”

He sighed, letting his head flop back onto the mattress as he stared into space. “It’s just... He went to work expecting a normal day, and instead he ended up facing a giant ambush of, like, two dozen guys or more. And he just went in anyway, knowing he’d probably die. And that—that takes a lot of guts. Guts, and heart.”

Shouta remained silent, just... staring at him. Slowly he slumped atop the pillow and rolled onto his side, staring into space. He had a lot to think about now.

Night four of being a cat. Shouta was currently in Mic’s bed. Repeat: Shouta was currently in Mic’s bed.

Don’t move, he silently commanded himself, staring wide-eyed into the darkness as he remained perfectly still. At some point after listening to Mic confess his undying love he’d fallen asleep, and apparently Mic had taken it as invitation to use him as a teddy bear. The sleeping blond had one arm tossed over Shouta essentially trapping him in place, the hero-turned-feline pressed close to his front. By “close”, he meant he could feel Mic’s breaths tickle the fur on his ears, feel his steady heartbeat against his back.

Had he been human Shouta would probably be blushing right now. Actually, he might still be doing so underneath the thick fur judging by how warm his face felt. This was the most intimately close he’d gotten to another person in... well, ever. Aizawa Shouta was not a tactile person by any means. ...But even with his limited experience he’d never been this physically close to someone.

They were sharing a pillow, for crying out loud!

Part of him wanted to worm his way out and abscond to the couch, pretending this never happened, but... at the same time, he didn’t really want to move. Mic’s body felt so warm. The arm draped over Shouta didn’t feel heavy, but instead oddly comforting. The rhythm of Mic’s heartbeat and the steady rising and falling of his chest gently pushed against his back, providing a silent lullaby that put him strangely at ease.

This was so illogical. Mic was a villain—well, more of a public nuisance, but still—Shouta shouldn’t feel so safe around him. But something about being pressed so close to the blond, half-covered by the blankets and with his head laying against the surprisingly soft pillow, just filled him with an odd sense of contentment.

He could feel Mic shift in his sleep, unconsciously pulling Shouta just a little bit closer. “Soft,” he mumbled, the word slurred and quiet, barely recognizable, yet still full of a deep fondness that tugged at Shouta’s heart. He exhaled slowly before closing his eyes, willing the tension to fade from his body as he curled a little closer to Mic.

Just one night won’t be too bad. I just need to make sure he never finds out I’m the cat.

Day five of being a cat. Shouta took back anything nice he ever said about Mic.

“How do you like your new bowtie Puddles?” Mic asked enthusiastically, hugging a very unenthusiastic Shouta with a giant grin.

“Mow,” he replied dejectedly. This is the worst thing I’ve had to endure in my entire life.

“I agree!” Mic proclaimed cheerfully.

“Mow.” No, you don’t, or you wouldn’t be doing this to me.

Now that he was aware of his current colorblindness, Shouta had no idea what the bow tie actually looked like, but he didn’t think any color scheme could make it look less tacky. It had polka dots. Nemuri might claim Shouta had a horrific fashion sense (not that he cared enough to agree or disagree), but even he acknowledged that a polka dot bowtie was the epitome of stupid looking.

Sprinkles mewed loudly as she pawed at Mic’s leg, blinking up at them with those large green eyes of hers. Similar to Shouta, she also wore a bowtie, this one a sparkly sequined thing that might be either green or pink. Unlike him, Mic positioned it so the bow was on the back of her neck, which Shouta found to be a perfectly practical and overall lovely choice for a female cat. Clearly she was used to being dressed up, as she made no fuss over it.

“What’s that, Sprinkles?” Mic asked, bending down and finally releasing Shouta from his hold. Shouta promptly began tugging at the bowtie with his paw, silently cursing his lack of opposable thumbs to aid in removing it. His tiny toes couldn’t get a good enough grip to do anything but pat it, much to his dismay.

While he sulked over that Mic held out his arms, Sprinkles jumping into his hold without further prompting. As she did her poofy tail coincidentally whacked Shouta in the face, making him jolt and sneeze. He shot her a sour look, while Mic just laughed as he swept her up and hugged her to his chest. “Hey, you did that on purpose, didn’t you?” he accused playfully. The white feline meowed and bumped her head against his chin, eyes sliding shut as she purred.

The accusation made Shouta’s eyes narrow, his glare growing harsher. Mic snickered at his expression before turning his attention back to Sprinkles, his grin softening to something more gentle and fond. “I get what you’re doing. You’re just jealous of all the attention I’m giving Puddles, aren’t you?” He adjusted his grip to scratch her chin and Sprinkles seemed to melt in his arms at the attention, a look of pure bliss on her face. “But you don’t need to be jealous. You’re still my adorable sweetheart.”

As he watched the pair Shouta felt his ire melt away, replaced by a sense of peace and contentment. The love and adoration in Mic’s face as he gazed down upon Sprinkles was nothing but genuine, the relaxed slump to her body an indication of total trust and happiness.

A guy who cares about cats that much can’t be that bad, he thought to himself quietly.

Half an hour later, he rescinded that thought when Mic posed with him and Sprinkles, all three wearing matching hats and bowties as he tried to angle his phone for a good selfie. He silently vowed to get his paws on that phone and dump it in the toilet as soon as he had the chance.

Day six of being a cat.

Mic had returned from his job a few minutes prior, which was just as well since Shouta had unfortunately confirmed that operating a laser pointer without thumbs was hard. He had a feeling Sprinkles had been more frustrated by the erratic movement and blinking of the dot than usual during his attempts to play with her. At some point she’d clocked onto Shouta as being the source of her frustration, because she had decided to ignore the laser in favor of jumping at him.

“Wow, you two did a lot of roughhousing today, huh?” Mic asked as he sat on the floor with Sprinkles in his lap, running a brush through her fur. Strands of black had gotten mixed into her otherwise pristine white coat, the usually fluffy and silky texture more ruffled and messy from their small wrestling match. Shouta himself looked no better; he could see white furs spot his paws, almost seeming to glow against his own pitch black coat.

He had taken refuge atop a cabinet in the far corner to get away from Sprinkles, and now took advantage of his vantage point to just... observe them. Mic clearly brushed Sprinkles often judging by her reaction. She purred contently as he gently dragged the brush along her head, her ears briefly flattening beneath the bristles before popping back into their usual perky position. She leaned into the strokes, arching her back slightly while her cheek rubbed against his chest.

The sheer love in Mic’s expression was visible to anyone, his smile so much softer than Shouta ever thought the loud and hyper man to be capable of. Plucking a few lingering strands of black fur, he set the brush down and lightly nudged her off his lap. Sprinkles hopped off his lap and strutted away, the blond watching with obvious fondness.

Those warm green eyes turned to Shouta, making him stiffen. “Okay, your turn,” he said, patting his lap invitingly. When Shouta didn’t move he got up and walked over, stopping next to the cabinet. “Come on, time to get down.”

“...Mrow,” Shouta responded in a surprisingly meek way. I would, but I’m kinda stuck, he thought sheepishly. Climbing the cabinet had been one thing, but now that he was on top of it... well, the drop to the floor looked much higher than he thought.

This is so illogical, he thought sulkily. As a human he’d made plenty of larger jumps (with the support of his capture weapon of course), but as a cat the drop seemed a lot bigger. He also lacked the fine-tuned reflexes and familiarity with his body he’d developed from years of training with it, so he felt considerably less confident about his ability to safely jump from such a height without hurting himself in some way.

Mic seemed to pick up on his unease, a small frown settling on his face. “Hey, Puddles, are you nervous?” he asked. “Here, come on, just hop on down. I’ll catch you, okay?” He held out his arms, and Shouta blinked, slow and catlike. Seriously? He was asking a cat to jump into his arms? The rational part of him scoffed, since he knew a normal cat wouldn’t be able to understand such a thing.

But... the less rational, cat-loving part of him, understood. How many times had he tried to coax a cat to jump down from a branch, to leap right into his open arms, logic be damned? Seeing that earnest look on the blond’s face, the encouraging little smile silently asking him to trust him... It made something feel content in Shouta’s chest.

And so, he jumped.

His jump was clumsy and awkward, his mobility just as hindered by his lack of familiarity with this body as he suspected. One of his hind paws ended up catching on the edge of the cabinet, turning a would-be graceful leap into a fumbling tumble. Mic shot forward and caught him, the drop to his arms nowhere near as long as it would be to the floor.

Shouta blinked dumbly as he stared up at the blond, cradled almost like an infant. He had a perfect view of the blond’s smile, relief clear in his face. “Oof! Almost slipped there! Don’t worry though, I got ya buddy.” He carried Shouta over to where he’d left the brush and sat on the floor, rolling Shouta onto his stomach with the feline settled in his lap. He picked up the brush and pulled off the fur already caught in the bristles before he began running it through Shouta’s fur, the strokes light and gentle.

Shouta tensed, memories of painful attempts to brush his own hair flashing through his mind. Tugging his brush through particularly bad knots sometimes felt just as painful as getting slammed into the wall by a villain, and he didn’t look forward to feeling it all over his body. To his surprise the strokes were light and gentle though, each one strangely soothing, and—dare he say it... nice.

He practically melted in Mic’s lap as the bristles stroked through his thick fur, Mic using his free hand to pluck individual white furs that the brush couldn’t capture. “I bet you’ve never been brushed before, have you?” he mused aloud. “You look like you’ve lived your whole life on the streets, you poor thing. Don’t worry though, those days are over.”

Shouta gave a throaty hum, his eyelids sliding shut. It was exactly the kind of thing he had told his own cat when he’d first brought her home, some distant part of his mind noted. He didn’t know how much time passed with Mic brushing him, his mind slipping into a content haze.

It felt like all too soon Mic finished, setting the brush down. He didn’t nudge Shouta off just yet like he did with Sprinkles though, instead pulling Shouta into a small hug. The mellow haze which had consumed his senses lifted slightly at that, a single golden eye peeking open as he felt the blond scratch his ear.

“Hard to believe it’s been a little under a week since I found you.” Mic had a gentle smile as he stared down at Shouta, his eyes soft and lidded. “It already feels like you’ve been part of the family a lot longer.” His hand fell away from Shouta’s head, joining his other arm to wrap around him in a slightly tighter hug. “It might be silly, but I’m glad you’re here—it gets quite lonely at times. Pathetic, I know.”

The blond gave a self-deprecating chuckle while Shouta just sat in his arms, staring forward blankly. Right now, he could feel nothing but pure love radiating from Mic, his genuine and powerful fondness for what he believed to be a normal cat quite evident despite only knowing “Puddles” for less than a week. And hearing him call himself pathetic so easily didn’t sit right with Shouta.

Before he knew it he’d twisted in Mic’s hold and bumped his head against the man’s chest, purring lowly as he rubbed his head against him. He could feel the blond perk up, sitting a little straighter. “Oh! You’re a cuddly kitty!”

Shouta just kept purring, eyes sliding shut as he felt the blond gently scratch his back.

This, he thought distantly, was contentment. This was happiness. Just being in the arms of someone who cared about you, and showing you cared about them back, even if just a little.

Maybe being stuck as a cat wasn’t so bad after all.

Morning seven found Shouta rousing to consciousness slowly, his eyes feeling crusted shut and refusing to open. His muscles felt notably more sore than they had the past week, making him groan lowly and curl up a little tighter. Ugh, stupid cat body... He forced his eyes to blink open, and for a moment he was confused.

Doesn’t the room seem a bit... brighter? He frowned, squinting blearily at the shrine (not a shrine, what shrine, those were just random posters of a random guy who happened to resemble him) which seemed a bit more colorful than he remembered. The sand crusting his eyes made it hard to focus, and he reached a hand to rub it away before pausing. Wait a minute, is my hand human?

Behind him Hizashi slowly stirred to consciousness as the mattress shifted, a distant part of his mind registering it dip heavily to the side. A sleepy little moan slipped past his lips, barely audible to even the keenest ears, his eyes drowsily fluttering open to see something dark and furry in front of his face.

Puddles? he thought hazily, but as his vision came into focus his still-drowsy mind quickly registered that it was not his feline. No, it was the back of a human head, a man sitting up on the other side of his bed. A flash of peach near the blankets drew his eyes to an arm with a starburst-shaped scar on the elbow, the blanket falling slightly as the man lifted his torso and wait his back was totally bare, holy shit this guy’s totally naked and he’s in my bed. Any lingering drowsiness vanished instantly as he bolted upright.

“What the fuck!?” Hizashi screamed as he bolted upright, Quirk unconsciously activating in his shock.

Shouta flinched and sat straight up, his hair whipping around his face in the voice-fueled blast of wind as he gripped the blanket against his chest. Well, the Quirk finally wore off at least. Okay, he doesn’t have his glasses yet. Hopefully he won’t be able to recognize you and you can just run before he gets them—

“Wait, wha—ERASERHEAD!?”

So much for that. As Mic’s voice devolved into a high-pitched squeak of horror Shouta rubbed at his eyes with a quiet groan, doing his best to ignore the sudden silence that fell over the room. After a few seconds past he turned his head slightly to look at the blond, finding him staring at him with an ashen look of shock and disbelief, mouth open but for once producing absolutely no noise. Only took waking up next to me in bed to finally get him to shut up.

“So,” Shouta said awkwardly. “Got any pants I could borrow?”

#erasermic #aizawa shouta #aizawa x hizashi #yamada hizashi #mha #fanfic #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

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kamatael · 3 years

Text

Greetings. This is Egor, my spiritual name is Kamatael. You can always write to me at [email protected] if you want to chat. Today is May 21, 2021 and I decided to write this information. I want to touch on many topics in order to show the general picture of what is happening now. I ask the holy spirit for strength in prayer to tell all the necessary things, amen. I belong to the Orthodox Church.

I will begin with the revelation of the cross of Belial, or the satanic cross. You may have noticed how various people, such as singers or prostitutes, wear Christian crosses around their necks. Spiritually, such crosses do not worship Jesus Christ. I was in the spirit world and ended up in some kind of laboratory. I saw Satanists there, as well as Reptilians. One reptilian spoke to me. "Many people are deceived. They see the cross on us and think that we are worshiping Jesus. But this is not so, naive people. In fact, it is the cross of our God, Lucifer. It is the cross of Belial. It only looks like a Christian cross. It is worn reptilians to hide their essence and deceive you, as well as our servants on Earth. Look here. "

I saw a cross appeared in front of me. He was white. "This is the cross of our master. In this way we deceive people." After that I woke up. I saw a similar cross on the neck of Tony Ferguson, the mma fighter. In the past, I've talked about UFC hell of a tournament. Tony Ferguson wears such a cross. After losing, he tweeted a picture of Jesus on the cross of Calvary, and how he was given a painful hold. This is blasphemy in disguise. Therefore, if you see a cross on someone, it does not mean that this person serves Jesus Christ.

Now let's move on. Recently, the number of demonic attacks on me has increased. I saw the road. The demon told me, "You are a man, do you know that it costs a Christian just a little deviates from the truth, as he is already on a different road, to hell?" The next day I heard the voice of a demon in my dream. "Your God is coming to Earth soon. His coming is near." Then a mermaid wrote to me on the Internet and began to threaten that I crossed their path. I had to fight in the spirit world. After the fight, I saw a big man in front of me. He was bigger than me and had a sword. "I am your personal guardian. God's revelation is a good book. Satanists and sorcerers exploit your weak points. Be careful."

I woke up. The next day I saw a huge snake that wanted to attack me, but I was able to escape from it. She moved very quickly. Let's remember the Bible, the devil walks like a roaring lion, looking for someone to devour.

Now I want to talk about the dangers of anime and mundane music. I know that this is a hackneyed topic and there is a lot of talk about it. But I will also say a few words. The problem is that many Christians lose their grip and succumb to worldly things. I studied the demonic influence of the Sailor Moon anime. About the warrior of the moon. The moon is a symbol of the occult and is often used in anime, along with pentagrams, they insert rock music there, to summon demons, sexy women, so that sex demons can influence people, as well as curses and they constantly say there, "damn, heck". These are all spells of the dark forces.

After watching the anime, I went to bed. I dreamed that I was washing in the shower and a girl from this anime was sticking to me, but her eyes were black. “Get away from me, Satan,” I said to this illusion and woke up. Prodigal demons started working immediately after watching. I found anime with names such as "Beelzebub", the prince of demons mentioned in the Bible, as well as "death note", this is the book of hell, the names of dead souls. The devil loves to praise himself through anime. Already from the names it is clear that these anime are made in hell. In the spirit I saw a huge demon in hell, this is the scribe of hell. He holds a fiery feather in his paws and gives revelations to anime producers. Under his leadership, such a satanic cartoon as "spawn" was released, as well as comics.

Then I started to study the popular Japanese anime "Bleach". In the splash screen, I immediately saw a pentagram, as well as blasphemy over the bright angels. In one of the episodes, they showed the Bible and the hero said, "Damn, this is not what I want." Further, a parody of the crucifixion of Jesus and blasphemy against the spirit of the saint was shown, when a fiery dove wanted to kill a girl. And then a hero appeared who called himself Lucifer and the hell gate. I watched 64 episodes in a row and then they put in more rock music and for a couple of days I didn't feel important. This can be characterized in one word - devilish schizophrenia. A huge spiritual negative impact on the psyche of immature and not understanding children, who is watching, the illusory jungle of demons, a mirage.

I won't watch it anymore, even for study. Then I studied the lyrics of some of the singers and saw the demonic language that Christians and Satanists understand. Mention of hell, fire and souls. Then a demon of music appeared to me, who called himself "Didjetal". He paralyzed my body and wanted to suck my spirit out, but he failed. Since I have touched on the topic of music, I move on to the next important topic - Eurovision.

I myself do not watch this show, but from the news I learned that one of the singers called her song "the devil". I am writing this and my phone is very buggy. Demons prevent me from writing this. So great is their anger at this information. So, when I saw this in the news feed, I decided to find out more.

"El Diablo" (The Devil) - a dance mix performed by Greek singer Elena Tsagrinu reached the final of the Eurovision Song Contest -2021, which is now taking place in Rotterdam. The final itself will take place on May 22.

“We must get rid of this blasphemy,” said one of the priests. “She is an insult to Cyprus and is a danger to our children.” “This is Satan worship,” protester Eleni, 62, told Ioannou. “The old Eurovision was so good. And now Satan is in charge there. " Residents of a nearby house decided to "troll" the protesters and played the song "El Diablo" at full volume.

The Cypriot Broadcasting Corporation PIK has stated that the song is actually about a battle between good and evil. It is worth noting that "El Diablo" is not the only song at Eurovision 2021 dedicated to a fallen angel. The Norwegian performer TIX performed the composition "Fallen Angel", the performer himself appeared on stage with the wings of an angel, and devils roamed around the singer, to which he was tied with chains.

I see that even an experienced Orthodox woman, 62 years old, said, "Previously, Eurovision was good." Earlier? it has always been devilish. What's in the 1980s, what's today. The only difference is that now the dark forces are acting more openly, and not veiled, as before. Only a few dozen people came to this rally in Cyprus. This speaks well of how few soldiers of Jesus Christ are not indifferent to the situations that are taking place in the world. Small flock, so it is written in the Bible, and so it is. Not everyone who calls himself a Christian will go to heaven. Jesus spoke of this while he was on earth. In general, this whole situation is just a shame for Orthodox Cyprus. I understand that any country, including my Russia,disgraced at this satanic meeting, but it was the representative of Cyprus who spoke more openly than others. In general, this is another sign of the end and the imminent coming of the Savior, and I do not advise Christians to watch these satanic, demonic games. Don't give them glory from watching their show. Don't give praise to demons. Amen.

And the last thing I want to talk about in this piece of information. Consecrate all your data on the Internet with the blood of Jesus Christ. I have noticed that the number of Satanists, witches and sorcerers has increased, especially on dating sites. They also contacted me. These applications, such as wattsap, youtube, vk, included a lot of demons and their goal is the murder and destruction of the children of God. They conjure and damage photographs, put spiritual chains and, due to the spells of magicians, tie people to this dark, digital world. I saw many mermaids seducing men, as well as demons disguised as humans. There is a lot of black magic and lies in these places. It is best to delete all your data, but if you are there, be careful.

Satan is very cunning and easily deceives many. With the help of black magic and curses, they killed a lot of people through social networks and threw them into hell. They have special scouts, I ran into them. They closely follow everyone and they have access to any of your data - photos, messages. They even showed it to me. Therefore, there is no data security. Don't believe this. As soon as you register on social networks, the scouts immediately observe you. If they see that you are a Christian or that you are preaching, then they become the object of increased attack and interest. Satanists and witches connect to you and begin your destruction. They are looking for weak points through which to kill you, or hurt you.

If they fail to kill, they will try to take you away from Christ and the body of Christ. These places have become very dangerous. They previously belonged to demons, but today the Christian is in them like death. No acquaintance, no woman, or man, in my opinion, is worth risking salvation and life in these places. I conclude my testimony, who have read to the end, be blessed. Amen!

#christianity #religion #nature #sports #spirituality #evrovizija #satanic #ortodox

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purplesurveys · 4 years

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986

Are you currently learning from anyone how to play any instruments? Nope. I’ve never been musically-inclined and it’s always been impossible for me to pick up skills in any instrument, even if we had music classes in my old school from first grade all the way up to senior year.

Are you one of those people who always tend to think critically in issues? Yes. Sometimes my emotions would want to take over, but at the end I always prefer to be skeptical, ask a lot of questions, and see all sides in an issue. I feel like critical thinking is such a big part of the degree I took up anyway, especially with all the hullabaloo about fake news and which news sources to trust, so...

Do you know anyone who is overly flirty with people? Girl or a boy? I can remember a few girls from my high school but they could have changed within the last four years. I remember several girls and boys from college, too.

When was the last time you had any kind of pork? What kind was it? Last night. Pork belly.

Are you someone who normally eats a full breakfast every single morning? No, not normally. If I wake up feeling a little better than usual I’ll go downstairs and get some bread and eggs, but most of the time I skip all meals except dinner.

Do you believe vampires are real? No.

Are you someone who has to hide the things you like around friends? Sometimes, just because I genuinely want to keep some things that I enjoy to myself. I also have some interests that are a little uncommon and simply won’t make for a productive or fun conversation, like wrestling, so I don’t raise topics like those around my friends. ‘Hide’ is a little harsh, though...my friends certainly don’t make me feel like I have to hide my true self. At the end of the day I just like keeping quiet about my interests and letting others have the spotlight.

Have you ever been to a porn website? Were you addicted to it afterwards? Yeah since middle school lol. I still remember how big of a sin it had felt when I typed in a URL for the very first time. Anyway, I wouldn’t say I was ever a porn addict but I did have phases where I’d watch nearly everyday, and then stop for months, and then repeat the habit again.

What is the most disgusting thing you think the opposite sex can do? Cat-calling is one of them < Jesus, I remember how catcalling was such a pre-Covid norm...one of the very few reasons why I’m glad to be staying at home.

Would you rather be able to teleport or freeze time? Which one seems best? Teleport. I don’t think freezing time will help me especially if it’s to be stuck in a happier moment; I’ll have to unfreeze in the end anyway, and it’s just a sucky truth that I have no control over. I feel that teleporting has a lot more uses, like skipping traffic lol.

Have you seen the movie Twister? Did the tornadoes look real to you? I don’t think I’ve ever even heard of it. The only Twister that comes to mind is the party game.

Have you actually been through a devastating natural disaster before? We always get devastating hurricanes a few times a year but my family and our home has always been on the fortunate side since my parents made sure we relocated somewhere that wasn’t prone to floods. The old house we used to live in, though, is super vulnerable to typhoons and it has definitely flooded all the way up to the ceiling there before. It’s a big reason why we moved.

Did your mom ever fix your eggs and bacon into a smiley face as a kid? I wasn’t fed bacon as a kid, so I guess not.

What fast food place, in your opinion, has the best french fries? Jollibee, and this is a hill I would happily die on.

Do you believe one day aliens might take over the planet Earth? No. I like to hold out belief for aliens, but I wouldn’t want to immediately assume that they would be the colonizer type.

Are you someone who always looks for sales when you go shopping somewhere? I don’t actively seek them out, but if I spot an item I like that’s on sale then I’m more likely to buy them and just consider it my lucky day, heh.

Are you constantly re-arranging your bedroom? Or do you not like change? I only do once every few years. The last time I did was a couple of weeks ago; the last time before that was 4-5 years ago.

Who would you consider the best teen actor or actress out there now? The only one I could think of is Jacob Tremblay, but I’ve only ever seen him in Room and that movie’s five years old now. Oh but Iain Armitage is amazing too.

When did you last cuddle up next to someone and watch a movie? Start of the year would be my best guess.

Where would people most likely find you out on the weekends? Just home, unless my family or friends made plans to go out. For the most part though, I like catching up on rest after a week of school/work.

Do you like the school you attend or is it just pretty bland to you? I loved my university. The atmosphere there felt extremely freeing and nobody gave a shit about what anyone wore, what pronouns people prefer for themselves, etc. It was such a beautiful place to explore and figure myself out in the last four years.

Do you remember when they used to actually throw candy out at parades? I don’t think I’ve been to a parade.

What is your favorite childhood memory? Who did you share this with? Playing outside nearly every afternoon, then going home for dinner and alternating between Nickelodeon, Disney, and Cartoon Network because our favorite programs were all over those three channels. I shared these with my neighbors (for playing outside), and then with my siblings and cousins (for watching TV).

Are there any windows open in your house right now? Which ones, if so? A couple of my windows are open to let some of the cold air in.

Is it currently your favorite season? If not what is your favorite? Yes, I love the rainy season. I haven’t had to worry about sweating these days which makes life a lot less annoying.

Do you like soda pop? If so, which is your favorite and least favorite? Don’t those two words refer to the same thing? Lol but I don’t drink soda. I’ve tried so many times to get into it but it’s always felt like putting my tongue and throat on fire.

Does it bother you when people burp around you or do you do it too? I do it around family and close friends. They can burp around me too. Personally, I only find burping gross if it’s strangers that I catch doing it.

Do you have any siblings you’re embarrassed of being related to? A little bit but it’s whatever.

Which noises do you currently hear right now? Can you control those? There’s a Good Mythical Morning video from my phone, the fan whirring behind me, and a dog barking somewhere outside. The only noise I can’t control is the dog, because they aren’t mine and I don’t know which house they’re from.

What is one thing you’ve never understood throughout your life? Catcalling. Like, why?

When you see an old person do you think ‘sweet’ or ‘creepy?’ For the most part, neither. I’ve thought ‘sweet’ or ‘creepy’ about old people in the past, but they have to be doing something to cause me to feel that way.

What is it that makes old women want so many cats in their life? Company, I’m guessing. But I don’t think it’s fair to generalize old women lol.

How many times a day do you wash your face? Do you wash it really good? Once, when I take my daily shower. I’ve always had clear skin so I don’t like washing it too hard, or too much, or using products on my face. Just a few splashes of water have worked fine for my face in the last 22 years.

Would you consider yourself to have a boring life or a really exciting one? I’d say it’s generally exciting right now because a lot of changes are happening and I’m finally out of school and pursuing real jobs and everything, but Covid has definitely given it a boring turn.

Do you ever talk to people you met online through webcam? Or is that weird? I’ve only done so with Carley. It’s not weird if you’re already close.

Who was the last person you kissed and why did you kiss this person? Gab. She was leaving.

How many fish have you owned in your lifetime, so far? Did they all die? We were allowed to own a lot of goldfish when we were kids but yeah, they’re all dead now.

If you were to get drunk right now, how would you most likely act? Cry, drunk text the wrong person, try to take the rest of this survey drunk.

How many people have you kissed in your lifetime so far? Who were they? One.

Are you going to post this on a social networking site after you take it? Yeah, that has always been the point of this Tumblr.

Is there something people in general do that bothers you a lot? This only applies to Christians, but being jerks and going back to their old ways immediately after attending church. I have never understood that, and never will. Like, why even attend???? What is your point of being there??

Has anything supernatural ever happened to you? What were these events? Nothing like seeing ghosts or whatever but I’ve had some odd premonitions before, especially on the day my grandfather died.

How many concerts have you seen so far in life? Were they good ones? I’ve gone to a lot of local gigs that feature popular local acts; the best ones I saw were Ysanygo, The Ransom Collective, and BP Valenzuela (who I’ve seen thrice, aaaahhhh). Foreign acts I’ve watched are Coldplay, One Direction (kind of twice, but it’s a long story), and Paramore (twice). I don’t remember disliking a singer or band that I’ve seen perform.

Do you like doing anything your friends wouldn’t expect you to do? Doing surveys is probs on top of that list, ha.

Can you sing very well or are you considerably tone deaf? I’m not tone-deaf, but I don’t have a talent in singing.

Do you ever look back on the past years and wish you could go back? Yes.

When will the next time be you’ll talk to the cousin you’re closest to? I have no clue. Christmas is my best guess.

Are you really into vintage things? Have you ever been into that stuff? Not so much, but investing on a turntable is consistently on my mind as I’ve always had a dream of collecting vinyl records.

When was the last time you bought new sheets for your bed? It’s been a while. Can’t remember.

#survey #surveys

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elliegratrick-blog · 4 years

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(Don't you, forget) About me

I’d introduce myself as Ellie Gratrick, although that would be a lie. My Sunday name, as my mother says, is Eleanor but I’ve honestly hated it since becoming conscious around 3 or 4. Don't get me started about some of the misspellings of Gratrick! (Gay-trick is my personal favourite).

I am a worrier. I think it’s something that comes with this ability to create, an anxiety that nothing is good enough. My brain is like the underground at rush hour, so many thoughts are packed in there and keep piling in and overfilling creating so much noise, sometimes I wish it would just be an empty carriage. (especially when I’m trying to sleep). It’s a blessing and a curse, I love some of the ideas I come up with but other-times I feel like the shittest person ever. (This isn’t a cry for help!)

What calms me as well is visiting galleries. At home, in Wakefield (nr Leeds, people are never sure) we are lucky to have a lot of galleries nearby. The Hepworth is one I always enjoy. A exhibition I saw recently was of David Hockey and Alan Davie’s early works. https://hepworthwakefield.org/whats-on/we-two-boys-early-works-by-alan-davie-david-hockney/ . You can feel the energy and vibrancy of the strokes splashing across the canvases. Being from Leeds there are a large number of illustrators working there which I often come across at art fairs and bars and try resist the temptation to buy all their work. I think this is something I could see myself doing to try support myself with my art before becoming fully freelance. Molly Pukes (https://www.instagram.com/mollypukes/?hl=en) does a lot of comics, that often become a visual diary. Working in this way also helps me process my feelings and get them out into the world. Seeing her work in these fairs gives me the motivation that people out there do want it! I’ve found Bobbie Rae (https://www.instagram.com/bearcubs/?hl=en ) work in an art shop in Leeds, Colour May Vary https://coloursmayvary.com which stocks a lot of independent publications. She uses her illustrations to spread positivity and affirmations often about self love and accepting yourself using bright colours and squishy non conventional bodies. She applies these to all sorts of media such as clothing, bags, stickers, publications in order to create a plethora of merchandise to sell. I would like to go into something similar putting my work into lots of avenues but still retaining my own personal voice. Another thing I’ve found interesting in the Colours May Vary shop is the array of magazines. I’m often drawn to the Anorak and Dot kids magazine that features bold and bright colours and characters. https://anorakmagazine.com/collections/all . I would be interested in my illustrations being used in an editorial sense like this as it doesn’t seem too restrictive and work I’ve seen is full of energy and life, no holds barred.

This love of narrative means a lot of the time while drawing I’ll be watching cartoon series or an animated film found. One series I’m watching now is on Cartoon Network called Summer Camp Island. I absolutely love Julia Pott’s character design- http://www.juliapott.com . Characters, like the monsters, remain mystical but you still empathise as a viewer. I try to bring elements of these animation styles to my own work, creating characters that aren’t bound my reality or form. Her illustrations also retain this same empathy and joy often featuring characters and using humour.

I’m also drawn to Studio Ghibli characters for these same qualities. Characters like the Radish spirit in Spirited Away don’t talk but are animated with subtle body language and use of facial expression, which as a viewer mean you still follow the narrative. https://www.studioghibli.com.au/spiritedaway/ . In a lot of my narrative work I try to utilise this lack of text and communicate through the character instead.

As well as animation, 2d illustrations such as graphic novels are fun to read. A few of my favourites right now are Coyote Dog girl http://www.lisahanawalt.com/coyote-doggirl, Pantheon https://nobrow.net/shop/pantheon/? and Retrograde orbit. https://www.waterstones.com/author/kristyna-baczynski/1676440 . Two out of three of these contain quite raw and personal themes of not belonging, loneliness and sexual assault using characters to put these ideas across. I think more personal stories appeal to people as it becomes somewhat relatable even if it is a half dog half coyote girl, there is a sense of empathy created. What I want for my work is this relatability and become more vulnerable with my work, show my feelings since it’s not so easy to express these with words. I also want to create my own full graphic novel in the future possibly published by Nobrow. I find myself looking at a lot of their books as they seem to represent fresh and unique talent. Hopefully I will have the stability as well to work as a freelancer, maybe in a collective with some of my friends I have made on this course. We’ve talked about making our own clothing collection in the future, I think screenprinting on t-shirts or bags could be really fun!

In light of the economy and how the arts are being treated:

I hate tories.

The end.

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ink-logging · 5 years

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More Superhero Comics, Revealing My Reactionary and Facile Engagement with Art as Little More Than the Accrual of Social Capital, Benefiting Nobody But Myself, 4/7/19

The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen Vol. 4: The Tempest #5 (of 6), Alan Moore, Kevin O’Neill, Ben Dimagmaliw, Todd Klein: This is an often very funny issue, set up like a pasted-together UK edition of old US pre-Code horror and crime comics, which, in addition to being funny, plumps up the page count as the plot moves maybe two or three tics forward in advance of the very-last-issue-of-LoEG-ever. The conservative in me wonders why we’re being this digressive in the penultimate number of the entire saga, but then -- at least since “The Black Dossier” -- this project has been more about positioning various strands of fiction and their accrued cultural baggage against one another than telling a propulsive adventure story. Anyway: the realm of Faerie, having easily survived an attempted nuclear strike on the collective imagination by a military-corporate black ops fiction squad comprised entirely of various revamps of James Bond, has brought in every character from every game, comic, cartoon, TV show, movie and book reality with everything for a HUGE apocalypse!

Scenes of bedlam involve: the life story of Victorian painter and murderer Richard Dadd; cameos by Stardust the Super Wizard and David Britton’s Lord Horror; the oeuvre of musician Warren Zevon, brought to terrifying life; a Corbenesque image of a nude muscleman’s massive dick flapping into battle in 3-D; Mick Anglo’s Captain Universe, presented by Moore in unmistakable evocation of his own Marvelman/Miracleman stories of decades ago; a ghost wearing the word CRIME on his head a la Charles Biro’s Mr. Crime, the greatest American comic book horror host; at least one figure from the annals of racist caricature firing powerful sound waves from his mouth; a monster named Demogorgon, the leviathan of Populism, which the heroes allegorically cross as a footbridge en route to a safehouse named the Character Ark; a page-long parody of Batman (via the forgotten UK superhero playboy character the Flash Avenger), describing his origin as motivated entirely by hatred of the poor; a text feature telling of UK comics artist Denis McLoughlin, who worked consistently since the end of WWII, never made enough money to retire, and spent decades as an elderly man drawing for survival on titles he hated, eventually taking his own life in his 80s; and the secret of what happened to all the British superhero characters after the midcentury, which is that they were all eaten by Capitalism, pretty much. I laughed a bunch, but if you think LoEG is tedious shit, this probably won’t turn you around.

Savage Dragon #242, Erik Larsen, Ferran Delgado, Nikos Koutsis, Mike Toris: The latest installment of the longest-running Image comic written and drawn by one of the Image founders, now deeply dove into problematic network tv drama stuff. The Dragon’s relationship with his partner Maxine is still strained in the wake of her sexual assault, a video of which the Dragon viewed in the police archives; meanwhile, the mother of one of the Dragon’s young children has been telling them all the truth about their parentage, further disrupting the peace of the household. Also, a formerly aggressive sex robot has joined the gang, dressed as an anime maid. And, the Dragon reluctantly teams up with the mid-’00s-vintage sexy heroine character Ant (which Larsen purchased from creator Mario Gully a few years ago) to foil a scheme by elderly elites to project themselves into the bodies of mythic gods in order to provoke the Rapture. Most interesting to me, however, is a bonus segment in which Larsen presents newly-lettered pages of his preliminary solo work on “Spawn” #266 (Oct. 2016), which would later be filled out by contributions from Todd McFarlane, colorist FCO Plascenscia, and letterer Tom Orzechowski.

As usual, I prefer the ‘unfinished’ version (top) to the official release product (bottom).

Superman Giant #9, Erika Rothberg, ed.

Batman Giant #9, Robin Wildman, ed.

These are two of those 100-page DC superhero packages they sell for five bucks exclusively at Walmart (for now; later this year they’re gonna have them in comic book stores too), which marry one new 12-page story per issue with three full-length reprint comic books from elsewhere in the 21st century. I just wanted to know what was inside them. Here is what I found:

-The new Batman comic is written by Brian Michael Bendis as a very conspicuously all-ages prospect, where the story is about nothing more than what it’s about, and the title character is presented as a serious-minded but inquisitive and compassionate man of adventure. This issue -- just in time for the remix of “Old Town Road” featuring Billy Ray Cyrus -- Batman and Green Lantern travel back to the Old West, trade in their superhero outfits for cowboy clothes, and meet up with Jonah Hex. Nick Derington draws the heroes smooth and squinting with Swanian sincerity, and Dave Stewart colors it all bright and sunny. This is not my thing at all, but it’s confident to the point of acting like almost a rebuke to the rest of the book, where literally everything else is chapter whatever of a nighttime doom ballad drawn by either Jim Lee or something trying very hard to look like him.

-Like:

I can spot the differences, sure - if nothing else, reading superhero comics trains you to spot differences in otherwise similar things. But, there is absolutely an aesthetic at work. The top page is from an issue of “Nightwing” that tied into the 2012 “Night of the Owls” crossover in the Batman titles, produced by a seven-person drawing and coloring team fronted by pencillers Eddy Barrows & Andres Guinaldo. The writer, Kyle Higgins, has Dick Grayson fight his semi-immortal great-grandfather, who is an assassin for the Court of Owls: one of the more popular recent Batman organizations of villainy, presented here as a fascist group mediating society’s function through murder from the gray space between social classes. The Graysons, therefore, are the Gray Sons, but Nightwing resists the pull of destiny by winning a big fight, slinging the villain over his shoulder, and walking away toward a better future of just beating the shit out of bad people instead of killing them, I think. The Batgirl story -- from 2011, written by Gail Simone -- is comparatively orthodox, finding the character gripped with uncertainty about the superhero life and going about some downtime character-building activities, though most of it’s a big fight with a villain with a tragic past. The penciller, Ardian Syaf, kind of has trouble blocking the action so that characters’ movements are clear; I think Syaf is best known for having his contract with Marvel terminated in 2017 for slipping what were widely interpreted as anti-Christian and antisemitic references to Indonesian politics into an X-Men comic.

-There is a whole lot of Jeph Loeb among the reprints. He is not a writer who has been in critical fashion for much the past two decades, but he has undoubtedly sold a lot of comics for DC, and they probably feel he can do it again. The Batman book is serializing (deep breath) “Hush”, a 2002-03 storyline notable for its extraordinarily easy-to-solve central mystery, and generally being a taped-together excuse for Jim Lee to draw as many popular Batman characters as possible across 12 issues; it sold like hot cakes. The highlight of chapter 9 is probably a bit where a three person fight ends in one panel, and then one of the characters leaves, and then a second character wakes up from unconsciousness and also leaves, and then the first character comes back and nurses the third (also unconscious) character back to health, and then Batman arrives, all in the transition between the aforementioned panel and the next, which takes place in the same room; such is the befuddling desire to race ahead to more spectacle. Jim Lee (with Scott Williams and Alex Sinclair) is indeed Jim Lee (et al.) throughout, though at one point the team drops a howler of a swordfighting panel where Batman’s blade appears to grows to JRPG length due to what I think is the colorist filling two whoosh lines with the same hue as the swords.

Meanwhile, the Superman book is serializing a 2004 storyline from “Superman/Batman” -- the series where Loeb has Superman describe the action on the page with his own Superman-branded captions, and Batman does the same with Bat-captions, and Superman says tomayto and Batman says tomahto -- in which the late Michael Turner, one of the rock star 2nd generation Image artists, illustrates a new introduction for Supergirl. But this isn’t quite the same comic that was originally published... can YOU spot the difference?

Is this like how Walmart won’t sell CDs that have an explicit content sticker, but with teen superhero g-strings? It’s hard to explain to younger readers how the low-rise/thong panties combo forever sealed the horniness of a generation of het male superhero artists into the late 1990s, and maybe DC doesn’t want to face that. Or, they’re just leery of how Turner slipping some peekaboo glimpse of Supergirl’s underpants or bare thighs into virtually every panel in which she is depicted below the waist might affect the marketability of the comic in 2019 - although I guess it could have happened in an earlier reprint somewhere too.

-The new Superman comic is a series of 12 splash pages depicting a race between Superman and the Flash. There is very little sense of speed, because Andy Kubert (inked by Sandra Hope, colored by Brad Anderson) draws the characters as frozen in time in a way that prioritizes muscular tension in the manner of contemporary superhero cover art; at one point the two characters part the sea with the force of their bodies, and it looks to me like they’re gesticulating in front of a theatrical backdrop. And, anyway, the story pulls back almost every other page to depict Batman standing on a ledge, or Lex Luthor in a sinister chair -- or some birds flying next to a building, or the Earth as viewed from space with streaks on it -- as the race occurs deep in the background or off to one side. The point is not excitement, but reflection, as imposed upon us by the between 13 and 21 narrative captions and/or dialogue balloons pasted atop all but the first page.

The writer is Tom King, whose “Mister Miracle” (with artist Mitch Gerads) gets a double-page advertisement later in the book, festooned with breathless blurbs from major media outlets. His narrator here is a little girl who is literally chained in captivity, clutching a Superman doll, and delivering her soliloquy in a manner of a superhero-themed TED talk with handclap repetitions on the nature of contradiction. Being faster than a speeding bullet is a CONTRADICTION. Being as strong as a locomotive is a CONTRADICTION. Leaping tall buildings in a single bound is a CONTRADICTION. Superman is about to lose the race, but then he wins, because to beat the Fastest Man Alive is... a contradiction. No wonder the GQ entertainment desk was blown away. DC comics do this kind of thing a lot, where they just have the writer tell you how great the characters are, and since you’re still reading superhero comics in the 21st century, you’re expected to pump your fists in recognition, because you and the writer and everyone at DC are just big ol’ fans... but I am not, because I am Jesus Christ, the only son of God.

-Elsewhere in the Superman book is an issue of “Green Lantern” from 2006, drawn by Ethan Van Sciver (inked with Prentis Rollins, colored by Moose Baumann), who is known today mostly as a conservative ‘personality’ online. He also netted more than half a million dollars last July in a crowdfunding campaign to make a 48-page comic book which he has not yet finished; funny to see an American right-winger on the French schedule. Funnier still to see the kind of people (mostly guys of a certain age) who mill around such personalities croaking about how diversity is ruining comics, because ALMOST EVERY FUCKING STORY IN BOTH OF THESE 100-PAGE BOOKS IS DRAWN BY EITHER SOME DUDE FROM THE 1990s OR SOMEBODY WORKING EXPLICITLY IN THAT STYLE, but - I guess when you’ve been pampered for so long, every paper cut feels like a ripped limb. Speaking of dismemberment, the writer here is Geoff Johns, who is often pegged as a superhero traditionalist, though he also has a grasp of gory pomp which occasionally pushes the comics he writes into a Venn diagram set with loud youth manga... at least in terms of how the action plays out, all broad and pained. So, needless to say, he’s currently writing “Doomsday Clock”, which is DC’s present attempt to extend the publication life of the valuable “Watchmen” property, so that they needn’t return it to the original creators, per the original writer, Alan Moore.

-To hear Alan Moore say it, the America’s Best Comics line was done on a work-for-hire basis as a means of ensuring prompt payment of the various creators from Jim Lee’s WildStorm, the original publisher. WildStorm was then acquired by DC (Jim Lee is now their co-publisher and chief creative officer), and Moore -- who has been (fairly) criticized in the past for taking ethical stances that cause financial harm to his artistic collaborators, who are in a less economically flexible position than writers in the comic book field -- allowed the line to continue under DC’s ownership, as to cancel everything would disadvantage everyone working on the titles. One of those titles, “Tom Strong”, was written by Moore and pencilled by Chris Sprouse for a while, and then there was a long line of guest creators, and then Moore and Sprouse came back when the ABC line wrapped, so that the concept could reach its logical termination point in an apocalyptic manner... Moore does love an apocalypse. The final story in the Superman book is a very recent, late 2018 issue of “The Terrifics”, in which we find an attempt to revive the DC-owned Tom Strong characters as players in broader DC stories. Jeff Lemire & José Luís are the primary creators. Jack Cole’s Plastic Man is there, as well as the John Ostrander/Tom Mandrake version of Mister Terrific. It’s a lot of offbeat characters; we even see Moore’s own parody of Hoppy the Marvel Bunny, because, I mean, Alan Moore does a lot of riffs on preexisting characters too, right? It’s a big blob of cartoon whimsy, filled with available characters running around. If they’re available, you might as well roll ‘em out, off the new releases rack and into a supermarket reprint package stacked in a box next to squeeze toys and discount Pokémon merchandise, which I bought, because it was really cheap.

-Jog

#JogList

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builder051 · 5 years

Text

Shards of psycho

Creedless Assassins (Nat and Clint, pre-Avengers). Set approx. 2002. Contains references to self-harm and self-induced vomiting in a non-eating disorder context.

_____

Oh, she's sweet but a psycho

A little bit psycho

At night she's screamin'

"I'm-ma-ma-ma out my mind"

Oh, she's hot but a psycho

So left but she's right though

At night she's screamin'

"I'm-ma-ma-ma out my mind

--Ava Max

_____

“Shards o’ Glass popsicles are for adults only.”

“What the fuck…?” Nat stares at the words fading to black on the TV screen. They’re not the same words she’s hearing. She isn’t sure if it’s a test or if she’s going nuts.

“Geez.” Clint steps out of the bathroom, shirt untucked and tie draped over one shoulder. “Ok.” He ducks between Nat and the television. The blue glow of the next commercial illuminates a stubborn cowlick on the top of his head. The individual hairs wiggle in the static pull as he leans close to the box and looks for the power button. “You know that’s not real, right?”

Clint succeeds in turning off the TV, then crosses his arms and leans against the wall beside it. “Popsicles covered in broken glass? It’s a ploy to get people to quit smoking.”

“Huh.” Nat nods as if she understands. She can fool most people with a little sprinkle of faux sincerity, but Clint knows her too well. He narrows his eyes and Nat can practically see him noting the tells—her stance a touch too symmetrical, her motion a smidge too smooth.

“What’s the problem?” he asks. He flicks his gaze back to the blank TV screen, then looks at Nat again, his brows knitting in shock and concern. “You don’t want one, do you?”

Nat doesn’t rush to answer. If she says no in a hurry, Clint will only see through her. He will if she says no at all. So instead she matches his squint and glams onto the furthest fact she can without crossing the threshold into outright evasiveness. “You’ve seen that before?”

Clint nods. “You haven’t?”

Nat shakes her head, the motion much more natural. It’s almost embarrassingly so, as if she were born to be defiant.

“It’s on all the time,” Clint says with a laugh. “Truth media, I think?” He shrugs. “Something partnership for a drug-free America.”

“Right,” Nat scoffs. It would be absurdly petty to use the fact that she isn’t American to rationalize her penchant for dangerous behaviors. Even stupid ones, like slicing open her tongue for a lick of artificial strawberry. She imagines the juice running down her chin, thick and syrupy and mixed with blood. It’s not a hard image to draw up, and not entirely unappealing. Kind of like the pack of Marlboros at the bottom of her purse.

“What, don’t you watch TV on your days off?” Clint’s beginning to look incredulous.

“Yeah, of course.” Nat gives her hair a toss, the auburn waves dipping into her peripheral vision. It doesn’t take much of a stretch of imagination to turn the flash of scarlet into spray from a bullet wound. “I catch the news. Sometimes.” She steps closer to Clint, grinning manically. “You just think I’m weird because you watch too much.”

Nat uses both hands to smooth down Clint’s unruly hair, but it springs back up the moment she removes them. “I’m pretty sure only Cartoon Network does this much damage.”

“Hey, I don’t—” Clint starts, but Nat cuts him off and pushes him to sit on the edge of one of the beds.

“We’ve slept in the same room. Don’t lie to me.”

“Fine. Guilty.” Clint’s cheeks go pink. “Let’s not bring that up half an hour before my wedding, alright?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Nat says sarcastically. “You going all stodgy family man already? I thought you’d at least make it through the honeymoon before you gave up the ghost.”

Nat makes to head into the bathroom for a wet comb, but Clint grabs her arm. His calloused hand wraps all the way around her wrist and then some. “Hey,” he says, his smile slowly dropping into something more serious. “Nothing’s gonna change, ok?” Clint blinks, and Nat sees her silhouette reflected back in his eyes. “I’m not giving up the ghost. Alright Casper?” The corners of his mouth spring back into a grin.

Nat doesn’t want to smile, but she can’t help herself. It started off as a learned response, but now it’s her natural reaction when she’s about to cry.

“Here.” Clint gives her arm a tug, and Nat trips into his knees. He pulls her onto his lap and presses a soft kiss to her cheek. A chaste, brotherly kiss, but a kiss nonetheless.

Nat counts the seconds on her exhale, pushing her lungs until they’re completely empty, then picturing a diamond-bright shard boring a puncture to keep them from filling again.

“You can’t wear your tie like that.” She yanks on the end, intending to hold it up like a noose, but unsecured, the find grey silk slips off Clint’s shoulder and onto the floor. Nat hops down to retrieve it, not sorry for the excuse to break contact. As soon as they’re apart, though, she wants to touch him again. Or at least get close. “you can’t wear your hair like that, either,” she says.

“Who made you the fashion police?” Clint complains, though he stands and moves back toward the bathroom. Willingly, it seems.

“Um. You?” Nat offers. “Unless it was Laura.”

“Yeah.” Clint starts to laugh. “Like I said. Guilty.”

“Come on.” Nat pushes him against the bathroom counter and yanks his collar into place so she can get to work on the tie. A subtle buzzing comes from the mirror, and Nat realizes it’s vibrating against the wall. She doesn’t have to look up at Clint’s face to know they’ve made a silent pact to ignore whatever’s going on in the room next door.

“You gotta learn how to do this yourself.” Nat tells him, giving his tie a final adjustment and starting on his hair.

“I will, Clint promises. “I have, like, 20 minutes left to be a stupid bachelor. I’ll shape up tomorrow.”

Nat should grin at the joke, but instead she frowns and checks her watch. “Twenty minutes?” she says. “Try ten. Rule number one: never trust the clock on the hotel coffee pot.”

“Shit,” Clint mutters. He drops his chin and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Early is on time and on time is late.”

“Hey.” Nat dampens her fingers under the tap and smooths his hair again. She doesn’t mean for it to be a comforting motion, but it is anyway. It’s an equal swap, her confidence for his concern. It makes Nat feel a little better to see him losing his cool, and that makes her the guilty one. She deserves a Shards o’ Glass Pop instead of whatever they’re serving at the reception downstairs.

“You’re fixed,” Nat says when Clint’s hair is arranged neatly. “You’re good. Go downstairs and get your girl.”

“Thanks. I know what you mean, but…” Clint gives her an anxious smile. “I’m already with my girl.”

“Don’t let anyone else hear you say that,” Nat warns. But her cheeks twitch into dimples again. Because she feels like bawling again.

“You know what I meant, too,” Clint insists. “Ghost girl.”

And Nat does. They could never really be a couple. It would break up their partnership for one, turning them into the kind of husband and wife who rarely see each other, busy with stressful jobs and fighting over whose turn it is to take out the trash. If either of them is even home to do it. That one time they fucked is always going to be just that. One time. It’s probably better that way; no repeat performance to spoil the memory.

Laura’s going to be in for a rough life. Nat knows she knows it. She’s stronger than Nat is, knowing it and choosing it anyway. Nat isn’t sure if she envies her for it or hates her. The indecision makes her stomach hurt.

Clint takes his suit jacket from the hanger on the back of the door. “Alright,” he says as he slips it on. “I can do this.” He holds out his hand to Nat. “You ready?”

“Uh, yeah, one minute,” she waffles. “You go down. I’ll be there in a sec.” She quickly glances around for an excuse. She picks up a tube of mascara from beside the sink. “Just gonna touch up.”

“Ok.” Clint backs out of the bathroom. “But hurry. On time is late, remember?”

“Your opinion of my short-term memory is insulting.” That’s more like her usual affect.

“Yeah, yeah.” Clint waves his hand dismissively. “See ya down there.”

“Ok.” Nat stays put in front of the mirror until she hears the door to the room close. She keeps listening until she loses Clint’s footsteps at the bank of elevators at the end of the hall.

The people next door are still boning. Clint’s getting married in under ten minutes. And Nat’s going to explode.

She stabs herself hard in the thigh with the hard plastic cap on the mascara. It puts a dent in the sharp crease of her trousers, but it doesn’t hurt. Not enough.

“Fuck,” she breathes. She wants to put a good slice in the inside of her arm. Clint’s razor is there on the counter, tempting her, but blood on her sleeves would be a dead giveaway. Nat chews her tongue, thinking again of the commercial. It’s stupid. She’s stupid.

Nat’s stomach clenches. She crosses to the toilet in two steps and leans down, barely getting her fingers past her teeth before hot bile splashes into the water. She tastes copper mixed with the acid, and when she looks down, a thin veil of rust red swirls with the pale yellow.

Nat shouldn’t feel triumphant. Biting through her tongue or aggravating an ulcer is no cause for celebration. But there’s too much other celebration going on today. Nat needs the counterweight.

She tears off a length of toilet paper and wipes her mouth, then shakily stands up and washes her hands. Nat glances at her delicate gold watch. Three minutes left. It’s enough time, but barely.

She takes a deep breath, willing her diaphragm to stop trembling. She can do this. She’s done harder things. Standing with her friend through a 15-minute ceremony should be nothing. Nat picks up her neat black heels and tucks the room key into her back pocket. She steps into the hallway and runs for the stairs. The elevators are too slow. Plus the privacy of the stairwell will give her a chance to dry her tears.

#creedless assassins #mcu #marvel #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #black widow #clint barton #hawkeye #angst #sickfic #mental health tw #self harm tw #emeto #emetophilia #emotional hurt/comfort #canon ships and all that jazz #laura barton

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youngdeathnotice · 5 years

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magic

The gulf, friendship, and blackberries are what magic is made of, I think at age seven. My friend and I laugh as we collect the berries, competing to see who could get more. We both know we won't count but, perhaps it's the picking that matters, not the winning. Neither of us would ever admit to it but, the time spent together was more important, more meaningful, more magic than the winning. I almost tell them so yet, I glance over and see their mother stealing some from my basket when they think I'm not looking. I move it to the otherside of me for now. She was meant to supervise and referee to make things fair. The competition never mattered but now a fire in my soul made it important.

We go to the beach later on. Maybe not the same day, maybe not the same year. I was still young. I was still innocent. I was still naive. We were still magic. The sea -the big, magical, blue sea- was a cold shock to me. The freezing droplets splashed against my thigh as we rushed in to explore the unknown, to explore the magic. We ran in, hand and hand as usual, when an abrupt momentum corrupted our wonderous ecstasy. Our time together felt like a drug rush.

"No longer will you hold hands," their mother sneered, "boys and girls don't hold hands." My spirits were crushed. This slammed us both into sobriety so quickly an addict would be envious, or killed. I couldn't comprehend what was so supposedly sinful, so perverse, so shameful, about holding hands with your best friend. The act, once out of platonic love, was now reduced to an implied romantic act. We were too young to understand. The act was only for romance, and outside of the princess movies we watched while snuggling, we had never witnessed romance. My parent's were far less affectionate than us, and his mother was a single mother. Yet they dictated how much affection, love, intimacy, and care we could show for each other. We were too young to understand.

I loved him more than I loved any of my other friends. But it wasn't romantic. It never will be, I can now confirm. It never got the chance to develop into that, though I highly doubt it would have. Our stolen glances were with silly faces, not with puppy love eyes. When we cuddled on the couch, limbs wrapped like the gnarly oak tree we loved to climb, it was because it was comfortable and safe. We thrived from the way we could be vulnerable without being judged. Our holding hands was like a brother and sister. Though we were from the South, it wasn't a romantic type of love. When I looked at him, I saw a fellow warrior. We protected each other fiercely and equally. We shared love but, of course, it was only platonic. I stole a look to see if his heart was as crushed as mine. His faced revealed confusion and hurt.

I found myself feeling forced to grow up a little after that. We soon weren't allowed to share beds together during our sleepovers. Eventually beds turned to rooms, which disapointed us both. We couldn't stay up watching silly Cartoon Network Shows until 5 am anymore. The thrill of hanging out together was destroyed. What once made us feel like warriors, fierce and always together, now morphed us into corruptable smutty prisoners. We were supervised as such. Even our playtime was to be done in the livingroom, not the bedroom. If we went outside, the pool was off limits unless an adult was with us. None of my female friends had the same rules. The woods, the lovely safespot we once played in, we once danced in, we once innocently loved in, was now strictly banned. Our last summer blackberry-picking was the one where his mother first ruined the magic. At age seven, our parents had made our friendship a crime, not a blessing. At first, we'd sometimes fall asleep in the living room together. That was a mistake we never made again. The magic of our friendship was fading so quickly it no longer felt real. How was I, how were we, supposed to believe in magic, in friendship, in love if the person who possessed all of that was being forced away from me.

As we grew, my home was no longer his. His weekend-long sleepovers became day-long visits, which became hour-long visits. Eventually they disapeared. We were lucky to see each other once a month. When I suggested him coming over, my mom had already invited over a female friend of mine. I now wonder how many of those "surprise plans" were actually "last minute rescues." I cared for my female friends but my time with them broke my heart. All they talked of was him. It ached to hear about him when I rarely saw him. I never could relate, as all they did was talk of how cute his hair was, of how sexy his jaw was, of how handsome he was. I never had really looked at him. I always saw his personality, not him. I usually ended up angry at them, not out of jealously or possession, but, because of the way they seemed to only care about his aesthetic. He never deserved to be reduced to simply a ken doll. Only a year later, I began to familarize with the feeling, from his friends, his mother, and strangers. By twelve, I learned to respond with a glare. By fifteen, I shyed away. At seventeen, I repond with a middle finger and a rant. I'm usually silenced.

At age nine was the first time we heard the cursed words which destroyed what little vulnerablity and intimacy we still shared. I cant wait till theyre older, they'll be the cutest little couple. they'll be the cutest little couple. The words still echo through my mind to this day, causing me to wish I was in the multiverse where we had never suffered through overhearing that cursed statement. Now I know the magic would have faded anyway. In this life, it's forced on us that boys and girls can't be friends. When Harry Met Sally, Friends, My Best Friend's Wedding, and Zach and Miri Make A Porno all reinforce the idea that eventually our magic would be forced away. Now I wish it hadn't been so early. Our parents may have meant to only strip away our magic, but they also ransacked us of our innocence.

Our friendship was reduced to nothing. All that it was to our parents was pre-dating. An automatic husband. All I was, at the age of nine, was a housewife-in-training. It was dirty to platonically share love, yet praised to romantically share it. Not even were we double didgets and our fate was being planned by our parents. The damned word ruined the best friendship I had ever had. My love for him still existed, though eight years later I cannot tell you his favorite color. I cannot tell you how he's doing in school, or his opinions on gay rights. No longer do I know him. The presumption that we'dd be a couple turned us into strangers. The presumption that we shared romantic love robbed us of our friendship. The presumption that I'd be his wife, not his fighting warrior stole away our magic.

I can't speak for him, as I lack means of contacting him. I deleted his number after a year of not talking. I haven't had a friendship like that with a boy since. If I have, I've dated them, whether I wished to or not. I hope he's never made a girl feel like she's "friendzoned" him. I hope he misses my friendship. I hope he still thinks of me as magic. If any of it was true, it would be magic.

#shortstory #short story #writing #friendship #writer #excerpt from a book i'll never write #journal

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minecraftfan11onscratch · 6 years

Text

CREEPYPASTA - HiHi Puffy AmiYumi ~ Episode 40

OBS: I purely made it out of creativity and entretainment pruposes. I don’t have the intention of offending any fan of the show Hi Hi Puffy AmiYumi,because I’m one of them.

As you may know,HiHi Puffy AmiYumi was cancelled on October 2002,making five episodes be unaired for the public of United States (those five episodes were aired on other countries,from what I heard). Then,you may be wondering,”why the heck you are talking about a Episode 40″?

Calm down,I will explain.

My name is Pamela,and before this incident,I was a innocent fan of this show,having a collection of their dolls,the CDs avaliable on my city and I even played their two video-games,who were released on Game Boy Advance and Nintendo DS. And soon,I devolped a curiosity to see the unaired episodes of the show. It was tough,because I had to learn Japanese,because of my decision to see the unaired episodes in Japanese.

I watched them with the help of Justin,my cousin that is three years older than me. He was a bit of a japan nerd,studying japanese language and trying to find every possible episode,cancelled or not,from all the shows he ever watched. Normally,they were animes or American cartoons with heavy influence from Japanse cartoons. Since HiHi Puffy AmiYumi is on the second category,he helped me on my search for the unaired episodes. After watching the 39th episode,I thought our search was over. At least,until he turned his head towards me.

“I actually found out a extra episode.“,he said.

“Oh really?”,I said,obviously,not believing on his word at first glance.

“Yeah,it was supposed to be a special episode to give a ending to the series. A friend of mine,who was a ex-worker on Cartoon Network,gave me the CD with the episode.“,he said,and showed to me the square box with the CD. It had a very simple lable,with the writting “HI HI PUFFY AMI YUMI - EPISODE 40″.

“Alright...“,I said,reluctantly,picking the square box containing the CD. That CD lable didn’t look like a normal CD lable you would find in a store. It was very homemade,and it had no Cartoon Network symbol,neither the original logo of the show,and much less the title of the episode,just the number. For a moment,I thought that this friend of Justin made up the episode and he felt for the prank. But nevertheless,I decided to watch it. Maybe this friend of Justin just edited an aired episode,combining scenes from various episodes,or even trying to make it more gore.

I decided I would watch the episode in the next day,but since Justin had a compromise to do,involving his father,he couldn’t watch the episode with me on the morning and neither on the afternoon. I wans’t exactly a coward,so I accepted the fate chillingly. I picked some water,inserted the CD on the CD Player,that appeared to be scratched but still useable,sitted on my couch,and waited for the opening.

The Opening was the regular one,but the animation was slower,the colors were slightly darker,and the music was slower as well. Nothing of demoniac. Actually,looked more like a video edition that failed on looking scary. Oddly,the title card showing the episode wans’t in the normal style,with the episode’s writter,the title of the episode on the upper left corner,and the mini-me’s of Ami and Yumi making a action that points the plot of the episode. It was a plain black screen with white letters.

“SPECIAL EPISODE - 40

JULIE’S END”

When I saw the title of the episode,I thought the episode’s antagonist would be Julie from the episode ‘Julie AmiYumi’,one of those five episodes I talked about earlier. At first,it sounded cool and interesing for me. I remember that,on the end of Julie AmiYumi,Julie swore revenge on the rain while holding her keyboard guitar,so the thought that immediately came to me was that this episode would be about this revenge and her final defeat.

Suddenly,another white text appeared on the screen. It looked like the plot of the episode,because it was a simple phrase.

“Julie fulfills her revenge going to America. Ami and Yumi must stop her.“

...this plot was weird. I was aware that,in the pilot of the show,the protagonists moved from Japan to discover how America is weird,but its still weird. Maybe they wished to finish the series with a revamped and extended version of the show’s pilot. The black screen faded out,to a night scenary.

On the first scene of the episode,Ami and Yumi were searching for their manager,Kaz,trought the whole tour bus. In the end,they didn’t find him,but they found a letter. The camera zoomed to the letter. The letters were written on a green paint. This is what was written on it.

You won’t find Kaz on Japan anymore.

Go to America. I and my ‘friends’ will be waiting for you two...

KYAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

~Julie

Personally,for me,on that hour,I thought Julie’s plan would probably involve something related to steal all of Puffy AmiYumi’s American fans,since,apparently,she only wished to be as much loved as them. But also,a part of it sounded evil...after a dialogue between the heroines,they decided that they would go to the airport for America. Kaz meant well behind his actions,they said.

The screen filled with black,and a white text appeared,written “THREE AND A HALF HOURS LATER”.

After this message,the scene of the airplane arriving on Florida appeared. The pilot of the airplane said for Ami and Yumi an creepy-sounding “Good luck...and be careful”. I asked for myself why the tone about being careful. And suddenly,after a genuinely horrified gasp from the two...I found out the reason.

Many kinds of fans and paparazzi,walking around like zombies. Their bodies were normal,but their eyes were pure leaf green,and glowing savagely. They were hurting,kicking,punching the people that weren’t ‘possesed’,and some of them were even claiming more people to their side. And the worst. There was blood and serious wounds. Thankfully,in a cartoon style,but it didn’t low the brutality.

The duo had a dialogue about the shock their felt,the fear Kaz had suffered a similar fate,and their final decision: they would need to fight to free those people from the hypnosis. A fight montage began,with they punching the hypnotized people and,afterwards,recovering them with their music. This is what I would expect from a normal HiHi Puffy AmiYumi episode,excluding the blood of light cherry color that flied over the screen,some drops even hitting the screen and sliding down after hitting the screen.

After this,the episode began for sure.

It was a very long episode,it felt like I was actually watching a movie. Lets say that,until the final scenes,I remember the general happenings,but I don’t remember the extreme details. But to not keep this text longer,the duo had to go trought all the Florida state (oddly,the rest of the United States wans’t taken over by the hypnosis,strangely) to save everyone from the hypnosis,stop the zombies from invading the rest of America,and discover the responsible for it. Finally,before the really final scenes,the duo would discover that Julie was the very responsible one,trying to make a army to take over Japan,and also kill Ami,Yumi and Kaz for absolute revenge.

...I honestly don’t know what to say about it. It sounds like a stupid fanfic a 12-years-old wrote out,but at the same time,it sounded terrible,and suddenly the atmosphere was more serious. Julie,suddenly appeared,with a psychotic smile.

On the dialogue,Yumi and Ami tried to make Julie abandon this craziness and tell to them where Kaz is. Julie ignored. Finally,the heroines asked for the former member of their band about why she was doing it.

And she answered.

“Simple: you two stole my place,and I am here to claim it back.“

Then,a battle scene began. All the battle scenes of this movie/episode had blood,but this one had the most blood out of them. Julie was using two katanas,in a attempt to kill Ami and Yumi,and they were fighting back,but it looked more like a war between two mouses and a large,furious snake. To worse it up,every civilian that entered trying to stop the battle was somehow fatally injured and some were even killed.

On the middle of the battle,Ami and Yumi asked again where Kaz was. Julie stopped attacking and laughed,pointing to a hill. The camera paned there to show a stick of wood,with a recognizable head...

“NO!!”,Ami and Yumi said in unision.

“YES!”,Julie said,before resuming to laugh. She...killed Kaz.

Words couldn’t describe the shock I felt that hour. Seeing a character from one of your favorite shows being killed in a brutal way like that...

...I bet Ami and Yumi felt extreme sadness,because when they ran towards the stick,they kneeled and cried. Julie was right behind them,ready to kill them both and fulfill her revenge for sure. I screamed,thinking they would get stabbed,but right after I screamed,they turned around and pushed Julie.

Julie dropped the katanas,and Ami and Yumi picked them. They pointed it towards her head and suddenly,she kneeled,begging for mercy. Yumi told to her that she was a monster,and couldn’t believe she was once her friend. Ami told to her she was a ‘meanie’ who wished nothing but blood. Julie turned around,and she noticed that there was a cliff between her and her enemies. Then,suddenly,she got up,and released her last demented laughter. She closed her eyes and felt towards her back. The camera planned for the water as her body sinked on the water and a splash was heard. She killed herself,throwing herself on the water to drown up.

Ami and Yumi were shocked,even while they were honored as the Florida heroes. After burying their manager Kaz,they sadly returned to Japan,sad about their big loss. I really thought Kaz’ death would be faked out on the end,but it wans’t. He was dead,for sure. The series would end with Kaz dying.

Ami and Yumi returned to their tour bus,and decided that they would honor Kaz,despite the fact that he wans’t the bestest manager around.

Then,the credits played,with the theme music ‘remixed’ to a calm orchestra with female ‘ahhh’ vocals for the acapella. As the credits played and I enjoyed the calmer atmosphere of the credits,I began to reflect about why this episode wasn’t even known. The excessively long duration and the gore were the most logical answers for me. Maybe it would force the show,in the future,to be re-aired on adultswim,and it was directed for children,so the idea was dropped. But,how this friend of Justin found out the CD with the episode in the times he worked for Cartoon Network?...I must make Justin ask that to this friend.

Then,I saw there was a post credit scene,on the lake Julie drowned. Julie’s body (who had the same clothing she always wore,including on the episode ‘Julie AmiYumi’) was floating on the water,with a light blue skin color. The eyes were closed and she had a neutral mouth. Then,after four minutes,I thought the CD stopped working and I went to the CD Player to press the stop button. Then,out of NOWHERE,the camera locked on Julie’s face. Now,her eyes were widely open,black eyes with dark green pupils that looked like they were staring at me. Her mouth was open as well,purely black and dripping a black liquid. A horrid scream got out from the TV. I screamed and quickly pressed the stop button. I picked the CD and inserted it back on the square box.

“What was that?!”,that was my only thought. Now I found out good reasons about why information about this episode ins’t avaliable.

Right on the hour,which was midnight,my cousin Justin came home. He said a friendly “Hello!” for me,and I ran towards him to tell him about the episode.

“This is horrible!!”,I spoke in a furious,but scared voice.

“W-what? What are you talking about?”,Justin asked to me.

“You must see that until the end.”,I said to him,slowly calming down.

I inserted the CD back,and I rewatched the episode with him that midnight. He was as much as scared as me after the experience. I said that I wans’t angry at him,but I was wishing to know why his friend gave to him that CD. And he answered to me:

“Actually...he was the writter of the episode’s plot...he was kicked out of Cartoon Network because of the episode. He told me it,but he never told to me what was the episode.”

On that night,we destroyed the CD and threw it on the trash. When his friend called to him on the phone,Justin invented a excuse to escape with the fact that he helped me break the CD.

When I sleeped,I had one of the most terrible nightmares of them all. I was in my couch,with the TV in-front of it. But besides me,the TV,the couch,and a visible part of the ground,everything else was black. The TV was emitting static. Someone hands hanged on the TV’s screen and crawled out of it,in Samara’s fashion. I screamed in horror,but a suffocated noise came from my mouth. When I noticed,it was the dead Julie who was crawling out of the TV. A realistic version of her.

Screams and more screams came to my ear as she slowly got out of the TV,crawled towards me and grabbed me by my shirt’s collar,forcing me to stare at her smile. Her terrible smile with dead eyes. The screams slowly faded out,and before I could be fully consumed by the darkness,I heard her speak:

“Its not over,Pamela. You destroyed the CD,the mistake you should have never done. I am free now. I can’t kill you,but I’ll torment you and your family as long as you exist.“

It has been three months since the incident. My family,my sisters,my mother,my father and my aunt,all of them claim to see a creepy figure with apple green hair on their nightmares,and hallucinations of them. I know about who they are talking about,because I can see her. I can see Julie,staring at me trought my windows,my bed,my computer screen,trought the TV...I see everywhere on my house. I even became more of a person that travels alot just to escape from her.

So,if you still are reading this...please,understand. HiHi Puffy AmiYumi ins’t as innocent as we all are lead to believe.

I have to move to my cousin’s house. Its the only way I can escape from her.

Julie.

#hi hi puffy amiyumi #creepypasta #not trying to offend anyone #entretainment pruposes only

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dreamsugargumbloggirl · 4 months

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Cartoon Network Word Splash

Character Names:

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downloadfromsoundcloudappp · 5 years

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Top Free Android Apps: For Android Lovers

How to download from soundcloud app - where everyone becomes a great artist! It is the most popular free mobile photo editor with over 87,000,000 installs, one of the fastest growing photo artists' social networks and largest galleries of artwork.

PicsArt is a free photo editor, photo grid and collage maker, drawing tool and picture art network. It is like an all-in-one collection of multiple editors: PicsArt Collage Maker allows to create amazing collages, using photo grid, free form collage maker, or using photos on backgrounds. It is one of the most powerful photo grid and free-form collage making tools on the market.

PicsArt Effects are awesome artistic photo effects such as a stenciler, cartoonizer, sketcher, Orton, Lomo, vintage, cross process, HDR, fattal, pencil, Holgaart, watercolor, contours, comic, neon, gouache, old paper, pastel, red eye remover, Popart, mirror, smart blur, face fix, color splash, paper effect and more! It allows you to apply effects to picture using brush mode, when artists can control where and how much of the effect to apply to an image. PicsArt Photo Camera enables you to take a picture, preview and apply photo live effects by enhancing your standard camera.

Comedy Nights With Kapil:

The show, Comedy Nights with Kapil, will be aired on Colors. Conceptualized by Kapil, apart from Kapil Sharma, there are other talented, up-and-coming and intriguing comic actors, who will play an important part in the show. App is one stop to catch up all missed episodes & download exclusive videos via in app purchase.

Office Suite Pro 7:

Office Suite Pro allows you to view, create, edit, print and share Microsoft Word, Excel and PowerPoint files on the go. You can also open attachments and see PDF files on an Android based phone or tablet with our feature-rich mobile office solution.

Office Suite Pro includes a File Browser and integration with Cloud service leaders: Box, DropBox, Google Drive, SkyDrive and SugarSync to give users a multitude of options on how to manage files and attachments.

A number of manufacturers such as Sony, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Coby, Alcatel, Archos, Pandigital, Polaroid, ViewSonic, Kyocera and Kobo trusted MobiSystems and preloaded Office Suite worldwide.

Yahoo Weather:

The highly-acclaimed Yahoo Weather app is now available on Android, featuring stunning photos that match current weather conditions and an ALL new design with a ton of new features. See the weather like never before. Easily swipe for the most accurate weather forecasts or add a home screen widget for the latest weather information. Wherever you go, the forecast is beautiful.

Google Sky Map:

The Google Sky is best app, with Google Sky Map for Android you can discover and browse the night sky just by pointing your phone to space. By using your Android phone's orientation sensors, we can show you a star map for your location. Explore planets, stars, and constellations. Learn the name and location of space objects and impress your friends.

SoundCloud:

Hear original music & audio from the world's largest community of musicians, bands, producers and audio creators of all types. SoundCloud is the world's leading audio platform, with over twelve hours of music & audio posted every minute. Find and play new songs, remixes, comedy, news and more. With the SoundCloud app for Android, you can hear anything, wherever you are.

Tado:

Using the tado° mobile App being part of the tado° heating management system your heating at home adjusts to your requirements automatically: the heat is turned down when the last person has left the house. Just before somebody comes home tado° turns up the heat. Using the App you can change all settings, review reports and manually adjust the heat when you are on the go.

youtube

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xeford2020 · 5 years

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Star Trek and So Much More: The Breakout TV Season of 1966-67

“Batman Cartoon Kit” Colorforms, 1966-68. THF 6651

It was the 1960s—the golden age of television. Some 95% of American homes boasted at least one TV. These were primarily black and white sets, as color TV was still out of the reach of many families. It’s hard to imagine now but there were only three channels at the time. Every year, the three networks (CBS, NBC, and ABC) vied for viewer ratings, shifting and changing shows and showtimes at two pivotal times during the television season—Fall and Winter.

As the Fall 1966 season unfolded, it became evident to TV viewers that something extraordinary was happening. Sure, there were the usual long-running sitcoms, like Green Acres, Petticoat Junction, and The Beverly Hillbillies. But change was in the wind. A new crop of programs emerged—colorful, fast-paced, poking fun at things that were supposed to be serious and exploring contemporary social issues.

Why the difference all of a sudden? Many of these shows were aimed at the youth audience, considered by this time an influential group of TV watchers. Others purposefully took advantage of the new color televisions. Sometimes show producers and creators were simply tired of the old formulas and wanted to break out of the box.

Let’s take a look at a few highlights from the 1966-67 TV season—starting with the staid and true and working up to the wild and wacky—and see what all the hubbub was about!

Walt Disney’s Wonderful World of Color (Sunday, 7:30-8:30 p.m., NBC)

Snow Globe, “The Wonderful World of Disney,” 1969-79. THF174650

On Sunday nights since 1954, millions of Americans had tuned in to watch Walt Disney host his TV show, with a changing array of animated and live-action features, nature specials, movie reruns, travelogues, programs about science and outer space, and—best of all—updates on Walt Disney’s theme park, Disneyland. Since 1961, this show had been broadcast in color.

The 1966-67 season was particularly memorable because Walt Disney tragically passed away on December 15, 1966. But since the episodes had been pre-recorded, there was Walt still hosting them until April 1967. Viewers found this both comforting and disconcerting. Finally, after April, Walt was dropped as the host and, eventually, the show was retitled The Wonderful World of Disney. It ran with solid ratings until the mid-1970s.

Bonanza (Sunday, 9:00-10:00 p.m., NBC)

“Ponderosa Ranch” Mug, ca. 1970. THF174648

Viewership was high on NBC on Sunday nights at 9:00, as Bonanza was one of the most popular TV shows of all time. Running for 14 seasons and 430 episodes, this series about the trials and tribulations of widower Ben Cartwright and his three sons on the Ponderosa Ranch was an immediate breakout hit when it premiered in 1959, amidst a plethora of more run-of-the-mill prime-time westerns. Its popularity was primarily due to its quirky characters and unconventional stories—including early attempts to confront social issues. It was the first major western to be filmed in color and was the top-rated show on TV from 1964 to 1968. Bonanza ran until 1973.

The Man from U.N.C.L.E. (Friday, 8:30-9:30, NBC)

“The Man from U.N.C.L.E.” lunchbox and thermos, 1966. THF92303

Premiering in September 1964, The Man from U.N.C.L.E. took full advantage of the popularity of the spy genre launched by the James Bond film series. In fact, early concepts for it were conceptualized by Bond creator Ian Fleming. In this series, Napoleon Solo (originally conceived as the lone star) and Russian agent Ilya Kuryakin (added in response to popular demand) teamed up as part of a secret international counterespionage and law enforcement agency called U.N.C.L.E. (United Network Command for Law and Enforcement). Solo and Kuryakin banded together with a global organization of other agents to fight THRUSH, an international organization that aimed to conquer the world.

During this, the Cold War era, it was groundbreaking for a show to portray a United States-Soviet Union pair of secret agents, as these two countries were ideologically at odds most of the time. The Man from U.N.C.L.E. was also known for its high-profile guest stars and—taking a cue from the Bond films—its clever gadgets. In 1966, this series won the Golden Globe for Best Television Program and, building upon its popularity, spun off into two related double-feature movies that year. Unfortunately, attempting to compete with lighter, campier programs of the era, the producers made a conscious effort to increase the level of humor—leading to a severe ratings drop. Although the serious plot lines were soon reinstated, the ratings never recovered. The Man from U.N.C.L.E. was canceled in January 1968.

I Spy (Wednesday 10:00-11:00, NBC)

TV Guide featuring “I Spy” characters Robert Culp and Bill Cosby on cover, March 25-31, 1967. THF275655

One series that never opted for campy was I Spy, which starred Bill Cosby and Robert Culp playing two U.S. intelligence agents traveling undercover as international “tennis bums.” This series, which premiered in 1965, was also inspired by the James Bond film series and remained a fixture in the secret agent/espionage genre until cancelled in April 1968. I Spy, additionally a leader in the buddy genre, broke new ground as the first American TV drama series to feature a black actor in a lead role. It was also unusual in its use of exotic locations—much like the James Bond films—when shows like The Man from U.N.C.L.E. were completely filmed on a studio backlot.

I Spy offered hip banter between the two stars and some humor, but it focused primarily on the grittier side of the espionage business, sometimes even ending on a somber note. The success of this series was attributed to the strong chemistry between Culp and Cosby. Cosby’s presence was never called out in the way that black stars and co-stars were made a big deal of on later TV programs like Julia (1968) and Room 222 (1969).

Get Smart (Saturday, 8:30-9:00 NBC)

“Get Smart” Lunchbox, 1966. THF92304

Premiering in September 1965, Get Smart was a comedy that satirized virtually everything considered serious and sacred in the James Bond films and such TV shows as I Spy and The Man from U.N.C.L.E. Created by comic writers Mel Brooks and Buck Henry as a response to the grim seriousness of the Cold War spy genre, it starred bumbling Secret Agent 86—otherwise known as Maxwell “Max” Smart, along with supporting characters, female Agent 99 and the Chief. These characters worked for CONTROL, a secret U.S. government counterintelligence agency, against KAOS, “an international organization of evil.” Brooks and Henry also poked fun at this genre’s use of high-tech spy gadgets (Max’s shoe phone perhaps being the most memorable), world takeover plots, and enemy agents. Somehow, despite serious mess-ups in every episode, Maxwell Smart always emerged victorious in the end.

Get Smart was considered groundbreaking for broadening the parameters of TV sitcoms but was especially known for catchphrases like “Would you believe…” and “Sorry about that, Chief.” Despite a declining interest in the secret-agent genre, Get Smart’s talented writers attempted to keep it fresh until it was finally cancelled in May 1970.

Batman (Wednesday and Thursday, 7:30-8:00, ABC)

Toy Batmobile, 1966-69. THF174647

Bursting onto the scene in January 1966, Batman became an instant hit and took the country by storm. Batmania was in full swing by the Fall 1966-67 TV season. The series, based upon the DC comic book of the same name, featured the Caped Crusader (millionaire Bruce Wayne in his alter-ego of Batman) and the Boy Wonder (his young ward Dick Grayson in his alter-ego of Robin). These two crime-fighting heroes defended Gotham City from a variety of evil villains. It aired twice weekly, with most stories leaving viewers hanging in suspense the first night until they tuned in the second night.

This show successfully captured the youth audience, with its campy style, upbeat theme music, and tongue-in-cheek humor. Despite the fact that it verged on being a sitcom, the producers wisely left out the laugh track, reinforcing the seriousness with which the characters seemed to take the often absurd and wildly improbable situations in which they found themselves. The filming simulated a surreal comic-book quality, with characters and situations shot at high and low angles, with bright splashy colors and with sound effects, like Pow, Bam, and Zonk, appearing as words splashed across the action sequences on screen. The series was also replete with numerous gadgets and over-the-top props, with the Batmobile undoubtedly most memorable. Batman ran until March 1968, experiencing a significant ratings drop after its initial novelty faded.

Lost in Space (Wednesday 7:30-8:30, CBS)

“Lost in Space” Lunchbox and Thermos, 1967. THF92298

Loosely based upon the story of the Swiss Family Robinson, this TV series depicted the adventures of the Robinson family, a pioneering family of space colonists who struggled to survive in the depths of space in the futuristic year of 1997—as the United States was gearing up to colonize space due to overpopulation. But the family’s mission was sabotaged, forcing the crew members to crash-land on a strange planet and leaving them lost in space.

The show had premiered in September 1965 as a serious science fiction series about space exploration and a family searching to find a new place for humans to dwell. But, in January 1966, pitted against Batman’s time slot, Lost in Space producers attempted to imitate Batman’s campiness with ever-more-outrageous villains, brightly colored outfits, and over-the-top action. The plots increasingly featured Robby the Robot and the evil Dr. Zachary Smith. Viewers and actors alike strongly disapproved of this shift. The show lingered on until March 1968.

The Monkees (Monday, 7:30-8:00, NBC)

“Monkees” Lunchbox and Thermos, 1967. THF92313

Where other shows might have been lighthearted, campy, or tongue-in-cheek, The Monkees at times verged on pure anarchy. This series, which premiered on September 12, 1966, led off NBC’s prime-time programming every Monday night. It lasted only two seasons but during that time, its star shone brightly. The Monkees followed the experiences of four young men trying to make a name for themselves as a rock ‘n’ roll band, often finding themselves in strange, even bizarre, circumstances while searching for their big break. Aimed directly at the youth audience, the band members were characterized as heroes down on their luck while the adults were consistently depicted as the “heavies.”

The Beatles’ films A Hard Day’s Night and Help! inspired producers Bob Rafelson and Bert Schneider to create not only a show about a rock ‘n’ roll band but also to adapt a loose narrative structure (each member of the Monkees was trained in improvisational acting techniques at the outset of the show) and the musical sequences or “romps” that appeared each week. The series built a reputation for its innovative use of avant-garde filming techniques like quick jump cuts and breaking the fourth wall (that is, having the characters directly address the TV viewers). A well-oiled marketing machine behind the show also ensured that strong tie-ins were maintained with teen magazines, merchandise, and live concerts.

The Monkees won the Emmy for best comedy series during its first, the 1966-67, season. However, backlash was inevitable among critics and older teenagers when the Monkees admitted that they did not play their own instruments—although they clearly played them in their live concerts and, in fact, eventually had a falling-out with network executives about this very issue. Though the show was cancelled in 1968, it experienced a huge revival among younger audiences through Saturday morning reruns and especially with the 1986 MTV Monkees Marathon. Remaining band members Micky Dolenz and Mike Nesmith still attract large audiences of intergenerational fans at their live concerts, while reruns of their TV shows continue to draw new audiences.

Star Trek (Thursday, 8:30-9:30 NBC)

“Star Trek” lunchbox, 1968. THF92299

When Star Trek premiered on September 8, 1966, science fiction shows were not very advanced—or even thought of very highly. Star Trek’s closest competitor, Lost in Space, offered only shallow plots, one-dimensional characters, and fake sets. No one could imagine at the time that this rather low-key show would become one of the biggest, longest-running, and highest-grossing media franchises of all time. This series traced the interstellar adventures of Captain James T. Kirk and his crew aboard the United Federation of Planets’ starship Enterprise, on a five-year mission “to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no man has gone before.”

Creator Gene Roddenberry, aiming the show at the youth audience, wanted to combine suspenseful adventure stories with morality tales reflecting contemporary life and social issues. So, to get by network scrutiny, he set the premise of the show in an imaginary future. With the freedom to experiment, he put in place one of TV’s first multiracial and multicultural casts and was able to explore through different episodes some of the most relevant political and social allegories on TV at the time. The stories were also considered exceptionally high quality for that era, involving believable characters with which viewers could both identify and sympathize. Unlike the gloomy predictions of most science fiction writings of the time, Roddenberry hoped that the futuristic utopia he created on Star Trek would give young people hope, that it would empower them to create a better future for themselves someday. Star Trek, with only modest ratings, lasted only three seasons. But it would go on to become a cult classic.

The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour (Sunday, 9:00-10:00 p.m. beginning February 1967, CBS)

TV Guide featuring The Smothers Brothers on cover, June 10-16, 1967. THF275657

In Fall 1966, The Garry Moore Show, a variety show on CBS hosted by the aging radio and TV star, was no match when pitted against Bonanza—even with this, its first season in color. Network executives, at their wit’s end to try to attract viewership, decided the only way they could come up with a quick replacement was to substitute another variety show. In desperation, they landed on a simple variety series featuring the soft-spoken, clean-cut, non-threatening folk-music-playing Smothers Brothers. Considered a “young act,” an added bonus was that their show might capture the coveted youth audience. Little did they know what they were in for.

As the show evolved, the brothers not only became more politicized themselves but felt that they owed it to their young viewers to increase the show’s relevance, boldly addressing overtly divisive political and social issues. Their staff of young writers was only too happy to comply. Unfortunately, as a result, the brothers were continually at odds with the network censors until the show was finally cancelled after three seasons. In its continual conflicts with network executives, The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour turned the variety show genre on its ear and paved the way for Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In (1968) and, in pushing TV’s all-out rebellion against the status quo, led an explosive charge that resulted in 1970s shows like All in the Family (1971).

These are but a few highlights from the 1966-67 TV season. Some say that this was the greatest television season ever, a clear indication that TV had finally come of age. Because of shows like these, television would certainly never be the same again. And, come to think of it, neither would we!

Donna Braden, Curator of Public Life, was 13 years old during that memorable TV season and proudly wears her fan club button to every Monkees concert she still attends.

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mfmagazine · 5 years

Photo

Natalina Maggio

Article by Jamie Poster

Photo by J Erickson Photography

Styling and Dress by Katie Woods

The terrifying words, “Here’s Johnny,” have been splashed all over the media for the last 30 years courtesy of The Shining. But, even if you’ve never seen Jack Nicholson axe through the bathroom door, you know whose voice is hacking at your soul. Nicholson’s voice has no real distinctive quality to it, we just know. On the other end of the voice spectrum we have Natalina Maggio, a woman who self-describes her voice as “cartoonishly high pitched.” Let’s take a moment to get to know this sweet chipmunk.

Is your voice unique in your family or do you sound much like your parents or siblings? My voice is unique in my family, but my sisters have somewhat unique voices too. But my mom has said ever since I was little, that my career would be in entertainment using my voice! Her story always started with "Nat had her tonsils out and the Dr. says her vocal cords are unique..." My voice also could get me in trouble because it stood out. Everyone else could be talking in class, but somehow I would get pinpointed and hear the words "Maggio!" --it never failed to get me in trouble!

When I was in elementary school, Alvin and the Chipmunks were out, and everyone would tease me and call me a chipmunk; they’d sing, "Alvin, Simon, and Theodore..." Everyone said I sounded like Brittany or one of the chipmunks, but I got over it and thought it was cute. I ultimately decided I wanted to be like her! Hey, chipmunks sound cute! I had their Christmas album and I would sing along!

How did the transition from voice work to actress and model come about? Voice work started my career, but eventually opportunities for modeling and co-star roles started popping up. I guess producers and directors just started realizing that my voice also lends itself to "on-camera" in half hour comedy. Plus, my boobs grew in my late teens, which sometimes catches producers and directors attention, too!

You’ve had a lot of appearances as bikini girls, or other similar “beautiful bar girl” characters. What’s your favorite of these roles you’ve played and why? Actually my favorite is the recent role I just played on FOX's "Raising Hope." My character is known as the "Dirty Angel." Which says it all!

Did you always get this kind of attention for your looks? Did you go through an awkward phase growing up? I did go through an awkward phase in junior high and early high school. I was this super skinny long legged gangly kid and a late bloomer. In junior high they would say things to me like “Flat as your back!" I was also very studious and a straight A student which didn't help. I got picked on! It was just funny towards the middle and end of high school when I started maturing and as I said above, my boobs grew! The same boys that picked on me when I was younger would try to ask me out! Funny how that works...

I read somewhere you started your career doing voice work for Disney and I read elsewhere you started doing voice work on Gunparade March. So, to set the record straight, how did your career get started? My career started with doing voice-over work for the anime series Gunparade March. Everyone assumes I do VO because of my voice, but I've never actually done voice-over for Disney. It’s just a coincidence that my first job as a teenager was working for Disney at Disneyland. But it was there where I was recognized for my voice. People went nuts over my voice and wrote letters to city hall telling Disney to use me. It was then that I decided to pursue acting. I have done voice-over work for pilots for Cartoon Network and Nickelodeon but I have still not officially worked for Disney yet!

What’s your dream role? I would love to do something eccentric and extremely creative like a witch, vampire, and “Elven" type character. I would love to work with Tim Burton!

You’ve done a lot of appearances on TV shows. Are you looking to have a more recurring role or do you enjoy working with new people all the time? I'm ready to be a part of a series. I loved doing lots of different things, but I would like to develop a funny character in half hour comedy series. But I still love working with new people and so I will do a movie here and there of course.

When you say you love working with new people, is that similar in your romantic life as well? I'm a relationship girl! I would eventually like to get really serious about someone and have a family some day. Beyond that, it’s none of your darn business!

Who have your influences been? Once I decided to pursue entertainment, casting director Joey Paul Jensen was the first person that helped me learn how to act and helped me to realize this is something I needed to do. She also recommended I train with Susan Blu and that is where I met Cynthia Songe who really helped me with voice-over and became my VOM…My voice-over mom!...She recently passed away, but she was everything to me (my teacher, my friend, my mom away from home) and she really gave me the confidence and the skills to fly.

Why is your favorite quote, “Keep striving and you will become somebody. Quit and you will also become somebody but not the same person!” I love this quote because it encourages people to chase their dreams and make them a reality. I feel we all have gifts and talents, but we all need to work hard. I think we all need to use our God-given talents to our fullest potential. So many people quit before they reach their dreams or get discouraged. You cannot leave a diamond unpolished; you have to let it shine. We all shine in some way!

You’ve started writing your own screenplays. What inspired you do to this and can you describe your projects? Anyone who went to high school with me knows I'm an overachiever and love to write. My term papers looked like freaking text books. Then, I went to college and got a degree in public relations and radio/TV/film. One of my teachers was a writer for "Law and Order;" he taught me how to write a screenplay and another teacher of mine taught me how to write children shows. I decided to put these skills to use.

Recently, I wrote a treatment and pilot for a Children's show called "dot.nat." It's about a little girl who is a technological genius and helps her mother fight crime. The whole thing is based around technology; the city is called Cybernet City; and my villains have names like Virus, Electricity, Mr. Roboto, etc. It really teaches young girls to be independent, smart, tough, and encourages the world of science, math, and technology.

I also wrote an entire feature length script with fellow respected actor/producer Michael Desante. It's a suspense thriller called "House of Lies."

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shipping-goggles · 7 years

Text

“Some Sort of Neighborly” (7/11) | Once Upon a Time

Title: Some Sort of Neighborly - (7/11) Fandom: Once Upon a Time Rating: M Genre: Romance/Humor Words: 3,232/26,824 Completed: 01/30/2017 Summary: Modern!AU Captain Swan. They're not neighbors, not exactly, and they're not friends either. It's pretty hard to find reasons to bump into the woman who lives next door to your best friend, especially after your only interaction with her has been waking up on her couch one Saturday morning. Sequel to Rude Awakening.

We’re nearing the final stretch now! ;)

On AO3 here | On FF.net here | On Tumblr under "Read More"

Some Sort of Neighborly

Chapter 7

There’s a tupperware of cupcakes tucked into the back corner of Robin’s kitchen counter – one Killian’s sure as hell he didn’t bake himself.

“What are these?”

Robin twists from the fridge to glance over his shoulder, his gaze following the path of Killian’s soapy fingers. He’s not a conspiracy theorist, but he is familiar enough with the Locksley household to know that most of the sweets are kept well out of sight of a certain three-and-a-half-foot-tall preschooler. He’s also observant enough to know that Regina Mills deals solely in apple pastries, as, apparently, everything else she makes tastes like poison, and while he once wouldn’t have put it past her for that to have been an intentional move, something tells him she’s not quite as interested in murdering Robin today.

(That, he’s decided, is the full extent to which he’s interested in knowing about whatever the hell their relationship is now.)

“Cupcakes,” Robin says simply, turning back to continue rearranging the remnants of their meal. Roland’s voice carries with the sound from the television, an off-key nonsensical tune Killian swears he’s memorized by this point. “I forgot: Emma dropped them off. Said they were for you.”

“What?” He almost loses his grasp on the slippery plate in his hand, and he can tell without even seeing his face that Robin’s hiding a smirk. “When?” he demands. “Like hell you forgot.”

“Like hell you’re staying away from my next-door neighbor,” Robin shoots back. By the time he finally meets his gaze, Killian’s pretty sure he’s dripped soapy water all over the floor in front of the sink. “She said to tell you thanks,” he continues, crossing his arms across his chest. “What in blazes did you do to that poor woman?”

The slick surface of his friend’s dinnerware vanishes in favor of warm, soft fingers curled around his. That, however, is distinctly not the reason he feels his face prickle with heat.

“I’m sure you know as well as I do,” he snorts, shaking his head, “I haven’t got a chance of making Emma Swan say anything.”

“So why am I suddenly playing deliveryman to your cupcakes?”

“When did she drop them off?” Killian asks instead. He splashes the plate under the faucet, then props it up next to the others in the drying rack. A quick glance back at the tupperware tells him that she’d stuffed far too many inside (five, he counts, and then stifles his internal grin – one for him, each of the Locksleys, and Regina probably, the full breadth of people in his life she knows, but that still leaves one extra), that the thick white frosting has also been squished and mangled by the lid. The cupcake on the end bears the colorful mark of rainbow sprinkles.

“She came by earlier today,” Robin replies, and he hears the fridge door close behind him. “She also asked about the bar you play at.”

This time, he can’t help the laugh that bursts from his lips. “Did you tell her?”

“Why haven’t you?” A pause. “You love playing for people.” Killian has the feeling that observation was meant to be spoken in the past tense, with a name substituted instead of carefully generalized treading.

But he only continues rinsing the rest of the sink’s contents, as quickly as he feasibly can. “So you did?”

“Bloody hell,” Robin sighs. “I’m going to have to move when you properly muck this up, aren’t I?”

It’s an attempt at deflection – not from a proper answer, Killian knows, but from the weight of what had come close to mentioning. After all, the last time Milah had been discussed in this apartment, a generous supply of alcohol had been involved, along with a lot of cursing and mutual misery, courtesy of Regina Mills and her unfounded jealousy and horrible temperament. But something in his words has him irked for a different reason.

Dumping the sudsy contents of the last glass, Killian sets it carefully to dry, then turns around, wiping his wet hands on his jeans. “There’s nothing to muck up,” he says, with deliberate emphasis. “I’m not going anywhere.”

A tiny rivet forms between Robin’s dark brows. Roland’s giggle bursts to life from somewhere behind the couch, and it seems to take a moment longer than usual for understanding to trickle through the space of the kitchen between them. “You really care for her, don’t you?”

Killian snorts, pressing his lips together. If only to hide his expression (regardless of whether, according to David, the answer would be obvious either way), he swivels around to grab the tupperware in one smooth motion. “I’m going to go thank her for these,” he says. The rich scent of chocolate wafts upward when he cracks the lid open and excavates two of the cupcakes from their prison (though he leaves the one with the sprinkles) – they certainly smell homemade.

He hears Robin’s sigh, and then the call after him, heavy on the sarcasm: “Should I wait up for you?”

Killian doesn’t even bother to look over his shoulder. “I’m leaving my jacket here, you wanker.”

Admittedly, the hallway outside is draftier than he’d expected, so maybe he should have chosen a different kind of assurance: the chill cuts right through his thin t-shirt as he makes the short trek down to 3B. He tells himself that’s the reason he’s so thankful for how quickly she answers the door after he knocks.

But he learns even faster that he doesn’t have grounds in the slightest to complain about his lack of proper clothing.

“Hey,” Emma says, her mouth tilting in a surprised smile. His eyes flicker downward without his permission, caught by the movement of her rocking back on the heels of her bare feet – bare, bare, up to the tiniest pair of pajama shorts, nearly engulfed by the size of the red sweatshirt she’s pulling down her arms.

“Hey.” He has to swallow after that single choked word, but, luckily, she spares him the embarrassment, her gaze zeroing in on the cupcakes balanced in his hand with amused precision.

“I swear, if those taste weird, I didn’t lace them with anything.”

He bites back a grin and struggles to remember the reason he’s here. The desire to make a fool of himself instead is astounding. “You didn’t have to do this, love.”

“You didn’t have to do what you did, either,” she replies with a shrug. “So I guess we’re even.”

Again, the heat of her hand in his flares a phantom of a tingle through the nerves of his fingers – a quiet murmur in the arch of this very doorway. Killian, thank you.

He should be so lucky to hear her speak his name like that again.

“Not every appreciable action needs to be tangibly repaid,” he tells her at last. But her lovely green eyes only narrow.

“Were you late that day, by the way?”

It takes him a moment to realize her meaning. “To my performance?” he chuckles. “No, I wasn’t late. Though, on a related note, I did hear you’ve been asking certain people some very interesting questions regarding my professional life.

The blush spreads like a stain across her pale skin. “Stupid rumors through the grapevine, huh?”

“Something like that.” She only fixes him with a perfectly innocent look until he gives up and asks, “Well, did he tell you?”

“I don’t know,” she replies lightly. Her tight-lipped smile doesn’t even try to hide its serene secrecy, which only confirms his suspicions. “Why don’t you try asking Robin?”

“I can’t believe my closest friend and his neighbor are conspiring against me,” he mutters.

She laughs. “You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here, you know. But if you’re going to keep stalling, you should just—” She takes a step back from the doorway, giving him room to step inside. “It’s freezing.”

“Poor choice of attire will do that to you,” he says, though he doesn’t mean that descriptor in the slightest.

The warmth of her apartment is a welcome reprieve, even if he only shuffles to the spot in her foyer he’d occupied last time, his back against the wall across from where she’d sat. He feels the hard press of the ring beneath his shirt, its smooth edges between his fingers – but also the curve of the duckling mug, the taste of whipped cream sweet on his tongue. He’d used tap water and the chalky packaged mix he’s never really cared for, but he swears it was the best hot chocolate he’s ever had.

“What are you watching?” he asks, peering at her television. Rather than DVRed children’s cartoons, she seems to have some brightly-colored cooking show blaring quietly on the far screen.

“Uh. Food Network.” After she shuts the door behind them, she stands at his side, her hands shifting to her hips as if in defiance. “How else was I supposed to have learned how to bake?”

Seventeen years. That’s how long I was in the system. “Had I known you’d acquired your cooking skills from television, I’d never have allowed you to help with the cookies for Roland’s bake sale.”

“Liar.” When he turns to her, though, there’s a glimmer of humor in her eye. “We both know those cookies sold out. And besides, it doesn’t even look like you’ve even tried those cupcakes.”

“Not yet,” he admits. He shifts one to his free hand and holds it out to her skeptical gaze.

“I already told you I didn’t lace them.”

“You made one extra.”

“No, I didn’t,” she tells him, with a touch too much defense.

“Then I suppose Robin will have to miss out.” He brandishes the cupcake more firmly in her direction, unable to contain his amusement at her stern expression, until she just rolls her eyes.

“Why,” she begins, her fingertips brushing his as she finally takes it, “does it seems like I’m always dealing with baked goods when it comes to you?”

“Sweets for the sweet?” he suggests, and relishes the sound of fond exasperation that escapes her mouth – a half-chuckle, half-sigh. “If you’d like to move away from baked goods, though, I would not be unopposed to dinner instead.”

Her lips press together in a thin pink line, twitching as though she’s trying very hard not to laugh. Finally, she says, “Why don’t we start with these cupcakes and take it from there?”

Emma leans back into the cushions behind her, narrowing her eyes. Her hair is a mess, she’s not wearing actual pants (again), and her fingers are sticky with frosting, but, at the moment, the only thing she cares about is her admittedly impressed disbelief.

“No.”

“You asked.”

“You’re lying,” she insists, but he only shrugs and picks away at another chunk of his cupcake, amusement flitting through his gaze like the sun on water. “You do not know how to make fucking bombe Alaska.”

“The only tricky part is setting it on fire,” he hedges, as if that’d help.

“That’s the only hard part about it.”

“Then I suppose I’m just about as proficient at making bombe Alaska as you are, love.”

She shakes her head. “What, did you learn how to make it in France, too?” It’s a sarcastic jibe, but his silence in response, the way his lips twist into a crooked smile, is more than telling. “What the hell?” she demands. “Who are you?”

“I used to travel a lot,” he admits, sheepishness tinging the tips of his ears in a way that doesn’t need a critical eye to spot. This information she files away into the back of her mind, where she keeps everything else she knows about Killian Jones – and, it seems, that might not be very much at all. At the very least, she supposes, given that reaction, she can place it right beside his unwillingness to allow her to hear him perform.

(She doesn’t want to use too much scrutiny at all right now, to be honest, because if she did, she knows that several things happening here would be highly suspect. The fact that she’d gone ahead and plopped herself down right beside him on the same couch, despite her lack of clothing and much-needed plans for a quiet night alone, doesn’t even rank – and that’s the worst part about it.)

He looks comfortable as ever in her living room, planted squarely where his ass had also been the night he’d spent, unaware, in her apartment. She tries to salvage the fraying ends of her concentration. “I guess it’s easier when everything on that side of the pond is so close together,” she says finally, deciding to throw him a bone.

“Er.” Despite his cupcake-covered hands, he makes to reach behind his ear before he catches himself. “I actually didn’t start until after I arrived here.” And then, in response to her off-guard frown, in a voice that sounds just the slightest over-detached: “Milah loved to travel.”

Milah. She thinks of the ring he’d held between his fingers like a prayer, the way his eyes had clouded over with the memory of his admissions as he sat across from her on the floor. Even now, the smile on his face dims, and while she wants to say that’s the reason something in her chest twinges at the name she can finally put to his heart, assuming she’s reading him properly – even she can’t manage to make that lie sound real.

So, instead, she says, “Tell me about her.”

His blue eyes capture hers in a slow blink. “About Milah?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“You must have loved her a lot.” It’s a stupid answer, an obvious one that doesn’t really explain anything at all, but she locks her jaw and holds her ground, unwilling to acknowledge the word that should have come at the beginning: because.

He counters with a strange look, and he seems to bite his tongue as he considers her.

I want to know you.

Finally, when he speaks, his words are slow with deliberate attention, spoken after a silence that feels like one long, apprehensive sigh.

“Milah was a free spirit,” he says. “She was bold. Adventurous. Like a gale that never stopped to take a breath.” He pauses, watching her with a serious look, distant but careful. “I think you would have gotten along quite well with her.”

She wants to ask. What happened?

“She sounds a lot like you.”

He cocks his head, the corners of his mouth tilting, and she wishes it would brighten the rest of his expression, too. “You think so?”

“I don’t know about that last part, about getting along,” she says with her best attempt at a coy shrug, “but I can’t think of many people who regularly go climbing up fire escapes and breaking into their friends’ apartments.”

“Those next-door to their friends,” he corrects her.

“And what do you call getting me to pick Robin’s lock for you?”

“A neighborly favor, of sorts.”

She only rolls her eyes, taking another bite of her cupcake. Even without Mary Margaret’s help, they’d turned out halfway decent, she’d been surprised to discover – just as she’s surprised at the way the tension in his shoulders seems to melt away now, as he licks his lips around the smile he finally returns without, apparently, even realizing it. Her bare feet are freezing, but the sight of it alone affords her more than enough warmth.

That’s why she probably shouldn’t be surprised at all by the words he speaks when he continues.

“For everything that Milah was, however,” he says, slowly, “there was something she was decidedly not.”

It feels like a trap. She almost expects his eyes to twinkle, like he’s ready to heft her an ambush of a smirk and turn it into some stupid flirty joke now that he’s got her attention – and, maybe, something in her wants him to. But she still hesitates when she asks, “And what was that?”

The way he’s looking at her – it’s like she’s something precious, not fragile but breakable all the same, which makes it all the more ridiculous that she feels her pulse skip in the way that she’s known in getting ready for a fight. At last, he says, “She wasn’t someone who made me want to be better.”

She wants to drop her eyes to her lap again. She wants to deflect. She doesn’t want to think about that hard drive and lock pick set in her closet, and how, for the first time since she’d buried them there, shaking with anger and something that had no place in her heart after she’d turned eighteen, she’d actually considered digging them out and throwing them into the trash where they belonged, after she’d finished washing both the duckling and pirate mugs from that afternoon.

Forward instead of backward. Neal never would have said something like that. He’d have clung to his demons until the day he died, and, being with him, she knows she’d have drowned in the commiseration, have continued doing the same – had he not tired of her and left before she could realize what had happened. Sentimentality might be an addiction, but she refuses to let it bind her in place.

She’s better off for it, too.

“You have… uh.” There’s a wisp of frosting smudged at the corner of his mouth, one that she probably shouldn’t be pointing out instead of mustering up a response, and yet – maybe there are some steps forward that feel more like strides, her chest wrung tight, her blood skittering thick with an understanding she’s not in a state of mind to fully process.

She gestures, but his sticky fingers only make the smudge worse. His tongue darts out in the wrong place, and she spends longer than she probably should watching where it’d disappeared.

“Did you think I was going to say you?” She stares at him, at the way his lips curl with soft amusement even as he rubs the back of his hand against his lips. “When said there was something Milah wasn’t. You suspected I’d have said you, didn’t you?”

“Shut up,” she says flatly, and she reaches forward to wipe the frosting off of his mouth with the pad of her thumb.

He tenses at her touch, smile freezing in place, but his lips are smooth, yielding. She can feel the breath he sucks in as she moves, and she wants to linger there, feel the warmth of it as it leaves him – but, before she can, she pulls back, and it’s over. Stray frosting secured. Arrogant idiot successfully quieted.

She looks up to meet his gaze now, and she swears his eyes have flickered into a darker, burnished blue, like plunging headfirst into a fathomless pool without breathing.

He’s still far too close.

Curling her fingers, tucking the ghost of his skin into her palm, she leans back into the couch again, and the air rushes back into her lungs the moment her shoulders hit cushion and he finally blinks with long, dark lashes. There’s something dazed in his expression, as though he’s having trouble looking at her directly.

She knows the feeling.

“Are you always this messy an eater?” she asks with a frown.

“Only when I can request assistance,” he says cheekily, but she finds she can’t blame him in the slightest.

Not one bit.

#cs ff #cs mc ff #captain swan #once upon a time #emma swan #killian jones #captain hook #writing #some sort of neighborly

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