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misterewrites · 3 years

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Intro to Caitlyn 101 (Mirror’s Edge)

Summary: Caitlyn is a thief looking for the next big score. Used to taking wristwatches and wallets from rich folk, she's aiming to take down bigger game as she discovers the hidden magical world within her hometown. Her first mark is an unassuming shopkeeper and his collect of ancient relics. All set with a plan, Caitlyn makes her move. Though plans rarely go off without a hitch.

Hello everyone! E here, hoping you are all well and staying safe. So the next chapter of my little side project is here! Honestly wasn't planning on getting back to this so soon but I was having fun worldbuilding and character creating and here we are. You can blame my friend @hains-mae for enabling me.

Right so the next thing I write will probably be the part two to this then the next chapter of the Underground. Umm that's really it for me so have a great week, be safe, wear your mask, take care of yourself and your loved ones. Please feel free to reblog, share, leave kudos or leave comments with things you liked or feedback if you read it on a03. I promised I'd try to promote myself more and it feels weird haha.

E is out, have a great one everyone! and here’s the link to the doobly do

---> https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/76014323

There was an arrogance that seemed deeply etched into every aspect of the magical world. She stood among valuable, ancient relics from throughout human history: Vases from Greece lined the shelf above her. A row of Roman gladius blades in various states of decay with only a flimsy glass case between them and Caitlyn’s pocket. Tarnished Victorian era slivered lockets left about like loose change.

Millions dollars worth of the past and she, a stranger, was left unattended with it all.

Technically she wasn’t supposed to be in here with the locked door and close sign but the fact in the 5 minutes it took her to pick the lock and scout the first floor without a single soul attempting to stop her really was a testimony to the haughtiness of the ‘shopkeeper’.

It had been only few months since she saw past the false reality that was superimposed onto hers and she was still readjusting: Magic was real. Elves, dwarves, little halfing folk? Real. People shooting bolts of lightning and flames while riding storm clouds? Real. The guy who kept awkwardly hitting on her every time she tried to get a hotdog from the cart at the corner? Just a regular creep BUT could’ve been magical.

Even their currency was a show of their excessive wealth: Sliver, gold, platinum coins Actual platinum traded away like it was nothing! People starving and helpless on the streets and these bastards just walked with some of the rarest metal on the planet in their pockets like chump change.

Anger bubbled within her stomach along with self righteousness and a bit of her breakfast but she took a deep calming breath, closing her bluish gray eyes. ‘Calm down Cait’ she scolded herself ‘This isn’t the first time you’ve seen excessive wealth squandered and wasted. You’re here for a job so do it and never come back.’

She glanced around the waiting room she found herself in. It was off to the side of the shopping front andthere were very few things of interest in the tiny room: Some old, tattered chairs that had seen better days. A very, very tacky abstract painting hung over a bricked up fireplace. There was a scattering of magazines older than her with loose stables and free roaming pages everywhere.

A place of show and very little use.

“Hello my angel.”

Caitlyn seized up. She had been so caught up in her rage she hadn’t been paying attention to anyone coming down the stairs. Three stories with a handful of people about and nary a sound could heard. Must be some sort of magic.

She shook herself out of her stupor, slowly exhaling to calm her nerves. She forced her lips to curve into the cutest, lost smile she could muster. She opened her purple jacket a bit further so the guy could get a clearer view of her tight white tank top and running shorts.

“Helpless. Remember you’re helpless.” She whispered to herself before whirling about, her long black hair with dyed purple coloring flowed behind her gracefully as if she was an actress in those stupid hair product commercials.

“Oh!” she spoke with mock surprise, scrunching her face cutely as possible “I’m so, so, so sorry! I’m lost and the door was open and sorry!”

She leaned forward, sheepishly scratching the back of her neck as she gave whoever it was a better view of her outfit.

Hook, line and sinker.

“No problem sweetie. No need to lie to me.”

Hook, line and sunk apparently.

She blinked, unsure if she heard what she thought she heard. She glanced up to find a strangely dressed man with the goofiest grin.

He was cute in a ‘I dress as an obscure, indie character for cosplay’kind of way: His messy, unkempt black hair sat under a black fedora. He wore a long black trench coat that had seen better days. At least he preferred more colors than black on black. His collared shirt was a nice baby blue with an equally nice light brown vest. Black dress pants because men’s fashion is incredibly boring and shiny loafers to completed the look. Whatever the look was.

She expected him to be taking a good look at her attire.

What she found was him staring at her.

His warm dark brown eyes were soft, gentle and he refused to break his gaze from her bluish grays even though there were more tempting sights on offer.

She was on the back foot. No wandering glances, no self pleasured smiles. Not even a creepy chuckle. Just a strangely dressed, inch shorter guy looking like he just found the love of his life in this moment.

“I…” she cleared her throat “Umm….did you hear me?”

He gave a quick nod “Yeah. You broke in and you were trying to cover your tracks.”

It wasn’t that he guessed correctly what was she up to that threw her off. It was how casually he said it. More discussing the weather than committing a felony.

She raised an eyebrow, not sure how to proceed from whatever this was. There were always some people who caught on about her intentions fairly quickly but no one had ever been so….indifferent about it.

“I don’t work here.” the man offered, slowly closing the distance between them but leaving the doorframe wide open “I really don’t care that you’re here to rob the place.”

This has to be a trap. This had to be. No one was ever this….laidback. Were the other goons on the side waiting to jump her when she bolted? Was she on camera and he was letting her go knowing full well he had all the evidence he needed to track her down?

Or maybe he really didn’t care. He seemed more interested in talking than stopping her and there was this strange presence about him. A calm she’d never felt before even when her parents were alive. It was odd and foreign to her but she felt safe. Protected.

She shook her head, slowly inching closer to the doorway. The man made no attempt stop her. He just stood there, smiling, hands in his pocket.

The rational part of her brain said to run. This whole thing was botched and it was better to cut her losses than find out first hand what magical creatures could do to her. The less rational side of her head told her to wait, to talk this guy. Lying was obviously pointless but she had a feeling he would answer any questions she’d had and she had plenty.

“So…” she rose a suspicious eyebrow “Not gonna stop me?”

He shook his head “I wish you’d stay but I understand if you don’t want to be found in Andor’s shop. He’s one of those new elves. Less honor more power.”

She blinked. He said elves right? Just threw it out there like it was an everyday matter of fact and not a deeply held secret of her hometown.

“Elves aren’t real.’ Caitlyn said matter of fact.

“We both know better than that.” The man gave a bright smile.

“What do you want?”

The words spilled out of her mouth despite her best attempts but this guy was throwing her off so badly she forgot how to function.

“Talk to you of course.”

The worst kind of people were the sincere ones. They were sappy and gooey. They just so happy it was sickening. They had to be up to something. They had to some scheme or scam or something they were waiting to drop on you. No one was that happy, that purely honest. They were the liars who were so good they convinced themselves they were good people. No one was good and everyone had a dark corner in their soul they hid from the world.

Caitlyn knew she had plenty in whatever was left of her ratty soul.

“And if we talk? Will you let me go?”

The man nodded as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Caitlyn licked her lips anxiously “Promise?”

Promise? What was she 12? No one kept their promises. Not even her.

He placed his hand over his heart “Cross my heart.”

“Let’s talk,”

He jerked his head towards the door “Outside. Don’t want you to ruin your heist.”

-----

Today was not going how she was expecting. She was thought she was going to break into an elf ran front, scout the area and come back in the middle of the night. She hadn’t been expecting to have coffee and bread with a random stranger on the street.

Well she had coffee, mystery man opted for hot chocolate.

They stood in a strangely comfortable silence a block from Andor’s. The man offered to pay for whatever she wanted and she took him up on it. Couple of baked goods, a sandwich for lunch, some water and of course her cup of wake up juice. If he was mad at her for her splurging at his expense, he hid it well. He just took his coco and some fancy elvish bread. Looked good but Caitlyn wasn’t up for trying other beings food. She didn’t know how it would sit with her stomach.

The elf who ran the cart, a few months ago human to her, waved goodbye to the pair as he counted the human cash the man gave him.

The trench coat cosplay stood patiently, sipping his drink and waited for her to break the silence.

She refused to break the silence first. Not wanting to sound too eager. Eagerness was a weakness and this guy was already throwing her off her rhythm.

“I’m Finnrick by the way.”

She turned to him, unsure if he was messing with her or not.

He gave her the same goofy smile “Finnrick Drift, private investigator.”

“Ah huh.” She nodded slowly “So you’re a magical P.I.? Like elves cheating on their wives, dwarves dodging their taxes P.I.?”

“Sometimes.” He shrugged his shoulders “Ironically elves like dodging on their taxes more than dwarves.”

“Right.”

“You’re new to the whole other side of Newton Haven huh?”

She glanced at her coffee “Lived here my whole life. Really makes me wonder if I lost my mind.”

“Don’t worry, we’re all mad here Alice.”

Why was she talking to him? Why was she being honest? This was weirder and getting weirder every passing second.

Finnrick changed subject “So, robbing Andor? Any particular loot you are after?”

Caitlyn narrowed her eyes “Trying to fish something out of me Finny?”

“Guilty as charged” He beamed with pure happiness “Don’t want you wasting your time on shiny trinkets he cares nothing about.”

Caitlyn remained silent. She wasn’t used to such transparency. Normally this would be the point where the guy would lie or pretend to not have heard or awkwardly switch the subject but Finnrick answered openly and honestly. So far.

“So” Caitlyn straightened up, pulling her jacket wide open “What do you think? Great outfit right?”

Finnrick turned to her with a grin, his cheeks turning a pinkish hue as his eyes locked onto hers “Your body is absolutely lovely but your eyes even more so.”

Caitlyn could feel the flush coming. She coughed loudly, focusing on her drink as she willed the embarrassment away.

Finnrick chuckled lightly but returned to his drink. The silence returned, still comfortable as before.

This is was bad whatever this was. She needed to regain some level of control and stop acting like a teenage girl on her first garbage fire of a date.

“So” she cleared her throat “Mister P.I. what would you recommend taking if not all those millions of dollars of historical items he leaves about?”

Finnrick crushed the foam cup effortlessly as he gestured to the third floor of the shop “His office has a pretty simple safe. He keeps loads of paperwork. His various contracts, accounts, treasure hoards”

Caitlyn scoffed in disbelief even though her eyes shone with excitement “Treasure hoards? Elves? I thought dragons were the hoarders. Weren’t elves supposed to be above all that lovely corruption?”

“No one is above corruption.’ Finnrick answered “Elves are just like everyone else.”

Caitlyn crossed her arms and leaned back with a cocky swagger “And why, pray tell, would I care about boring paperwork?”

“Because it really hurt him in the pride.”

Damn Finnrick was good. Not only she was eager to learn more, she could already feel the smug satisfaction of bringing a powerful prick down a peg fill her cause.

Finnrick seemed to notice this because he went on “Andor is a young elf. 100 years give or take.”

“A hundred years is young?”

“When you live a thousand years every other race is a child to you. Andor’s old man is a swell guy. He’s one of those good elves you see in Tolkien.”

“Tolkien?” Caitlyn furrowed her brow “He wrote the books that those Lord of the Rings films are based on right?”

“Yeah actually.”

“Oh and the Hob…”

“We don’t talk about that.” Finnrick quickly added “But see the problem is Andor’s old man doesn’t know his son has become the small time crime lord. Thinks he’s running an antique business selling off old junk that was gathering dust in the family’s attic.”

Something clicked into place for Caitlyn “Wait. Junk from the attic? You mean all those relics on the shop floor?! THAT’S OLD JUNK!?”

Finnrick gave a casual shrug “Elves are weird. Andor don’t know shit about selling, all his money comes from his illegal business practices. That’s how he keeps the shop afloat.”

“I see” Caitlyn spoke, her bluish grays sparkling with mischievous intent “If those records disappeared, his shop sinks and he has to run back home to daddy.”

“And out of the city” Finnrick finished with a smile “And those records are pretty valuable to loads of people. Easier to fence and less messy to explain than a long lost Greek vase showing up in someone’s private collection. You’d get good prices for those hoard locations alone. Better than trying to carry tons of stolen and lost treasure back to your house.”

Caitlyn eyed Finnrick carefully “And you’re doing this out of the kindness of your heart? Trying to do your ‘civic’ duty to our fair city?”

“Among other things” Finnrick admitted “But mostly for the greater good.”

“Pfft, greater good? Yeah sure buddy. Like you know what’s the greater good.”

“Will you do it?”

Caitlyn paused, allowing all this information sink in. It was much better than she had planned and while she wasn’t sure of Finnrick’s angle, he seemed honest enough. Of course everyone seems honest enough the first time you meet them.

“Let’s say I do” she spoke, placing her hands on her hips to play the part “What’s in it for you?”

“A favor” He replied simply.

She rose a curious eyebrow “A favor? It’s not date with me, is it?”

“No, I plan to earn that one myself.” Finnrick answered cheerfully.

Caitlyn coughed “Fine, good. Not a date. Least you’re not a creep. But a favor is pretty vague.”

“It’ll be simple I promise.”

Caitlyn narrowed her gaze suspiciously “You promise?”

Finnrick put his hand over his heart again “Cross my heart.”

Caitlyn took a moment, weighing the pros and cons of the situation.

Caitlyn offered her hand towards the trench coat cosplayer “You got yourself a deal.”

He gently took her hand in his own and gave it a firm shake. She was surprised when, as he pulled back, she felt a strange metallic item left behind.

She looked at the crystal butterfly hair clip he placed in her hand: It was a beautiful with sliver hues and multi-colored shards of glass across its wings.

“What’s this?”

“A gift.”

Caitlyn felt uneasy with the ornament in her palm: It felt cold and distant like it was feeling her out and wasn’t liking what it found.

“It’s attuning to you.” Finnrick explained “It’s syncing up to your whole aura.”

“Aura?” Caitlyn shot him a glare of disbelief “This isn’t one of those new age hippie things is it?”

Finnrick shook his head “It’s a magical item. Yours specifically. Everything alive has a deep and very convoluted to explain connection to this plane. The hairclip is trying to match yours so you and only you can use it.”

“It feels wrong.”

“Because it doesn’t know you yet. It will.”

Caitlyn felt unease about whatever this was. Part of her wanted to toss it as far as she could. The worst part was she felt the item probing at her, changing temperatures as if trying find a comfortable setting for both of them. Burning one moment and too cold the next. This was magic and it made her felt like she knew nothing.

But part of her felt it slowly and subtly trying to match her, focusing on her and on her place in the universe. It felt more natural each passing moment and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t curious what mister detective over here was letting her borrow.

Caitlyn blew a strand of hair out of her face “How long does this usually take?”

“An hour.” Finnrick reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone “Oh shoot I have a meeting to get to.”

He turned to leave and suddenly Caitlyn felt alone. Awkward just standing in the street without someone to talk to.

“Wait!” She reached for him but quickly pulled back when he faced her “….any advice?”

Finnrick scratched his chin for a moment “Red tiles. Avoid them or they’ll blast you off the roof.”

“G-gotcha.” Caitlyn didn’t want to know what blast off the roof was code for “A-and the hairclip? What’s it do?”

Finnrick gave a cheeky grin and Caitlyn could feel her face flush “I guess you’ll have to find out angel. Bye for now. May we meet again soon.”

And like that, he was off. Strolling down the straight with a bounce in his step and humming a tune.

Caitlyn glanced at the ornate hairclip in her hand.

Turns out there was a lot more to this magical world than she thought.

#Mirror's edge #Original Work #original story #my work

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thefloatingstone · 4 years

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We’ve gone from Self-Isolation to Quarantine and in some places to gradual relaxation phases, but that doesn’t stop the need for more nonsense you can watch on youtube while you wait for things to get back to normal. And recommending things and making lists are some of my favourite things to do but I have not yet figured out how to start or structure a video myself, you guys get another rambling tumblr post of things you can watch on youtube.

This time I’m once again just gonna recommend individual videos rather than full channels like I did in part 2.

Part 1

Part 2

In no particular order;

LOCAL58: The Broadcast Station that Manipulates You

I recently started watching the Nexpo channel when I went on a binge of creepy youtube videos. Most of his videos are really good although the ones where he himself goes into theory crafting can be a little asinine. However, this video is REALLY good. And before you get nervous, LOCAL58 is not a real TV station. LOCAL58 is a youtube channel created by the same guy behind the Candle Cove creepypasta. This video by Nexpo covers the various episodes of LOCAL58 and discusses them. Just be aware going in that this is abstract horror, and will probably get under your skin regardless if you’re unaffected by certain topics or not. although cw for suicide mention.

I also recommend most of the rest of this channel, although be careful where you tread. I don’t recommend his series “Disturbing things from around the internet” as it can sometimes include real life crime, abuse and such caught on security cameras. Everything else is really good tho. (although I was really annoyed by his 2 videos on KrainaGrzybowTV)

The Search for D.B. Cooper

LEMMiNO has a new video out covering one of the most unexplained crimes in the past century of the US. LEMMiNO is the guy I’ve recommended before who did videos on the Universal S. He is very down to earth and not someone prone to conspiracy or even really that fanciful of thinking. (He’s like the one person I feel covered the Dyaltov Pass incident and was confused by why this was even a mystery because if you read the Russian Autopsy reports and documents associated with the case it’s all pretty logical and easily explained)

D.B. Cooper is the name given to a man who, in 1971, hijacked an airplane with a bomb, asked for a large sum of money, and after receiving it, parachuted from the plane and was never seen or heard from again.

The Austrian Wine Poisoning | Down the Rabbit Hole

Down the Rabbit Hole also has a new video out, this time covering the Austrian Wine Poisoning event from 1985. A scandal that involved literally the entire country of Austria, affected multiple countries, and forever changed the way wine was made world wide. As someone who is generally pretty allergic to most artificial substances this one made me personally very angry. But luckily, it has a happy ending and a better world for us all... if I could drink wine which I can’t do anyway.

The Turbulent Tale of Yandere Dev - A Six Year Struggle

The Right Opinion is another channel I only recently subbed to after watching his cover on Onion Boy. I put off subbing to him simply because of his channel name and I thought it meant he would come across as smug and elitist. Luckily this seems to merely be one of those “I chose a bad channel name and now I’m stuck with it” type of situations. (IHE has a similar problem).

Anyway, I have a weird interest in bizarre internet personalities, so I’ve been enjoying his channel as he simply discusses and presents a timeline of events of certain individuals. In this video, he covers the developer behind the much maligned Yandere Simulator. It’s a tale of hubris, arrogance, immaturity, and an unwillingness to accept your own shortcomings due to ego.

Oh and there’s a meme game about Japanese school girls with anime tiddies in there as well.

The Most Relaxing Anime Ever Made | Yokohama Kaidashi Kikō

Kenny Lauderdale is a youtube channel which is slowly becoming bigger which I’m very happy to see. He exclusively covers anime and live action Japanese television no younger than the mid 90s (as is the case with YYK) and which usually never saw a release outside of Japanese Laserdisc. I do wish his videos were a little longer, but if nothing else his videos serve as an excellent starting to point to find some older and underappreciated shows... or hot garbage fires. In this episode he talks about the 2 OVA episodes made based on one of my favourite manga, Yokohama Shopping Log. A Post apocalyptic anime about an android who runs a coffee shop outside of her house, and the quiet solitude of living in a world of declining human population, brief encounters with travelers and other people, and just... existing. The anime was never released outside of Japan and is only available on Japanese VHS and laserdisc.... but hey guess what!! Somebody uploaded both episodes, subbed, to Youtube.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C2HCVOH6DtA

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yqSTwfkobME

YMS’ slow descent into madness as he uncovers just how bullshit the Kimba Conspiracy is

I’m linking a full playlist for this one.

YMS is busy planning his review on the “live action” Lion King remake as the original 1994 movie is probably his favourite movie all time (and also self declared what made him a furry). As part of the 2 hour review, he decided to what all 2000 hours of Kimba the White Lion just to mention how The Lion King potentially stole the idea. ....until he actually watched all 2000 hours of Kimba and realised that if you actually WATCH Kimba, it has VERY little to do with the Lion King at all apart from having the same animals in them because AFRICA. Watch as one man slowly loses his mind as he realises just how stupid this conspiracy theory is, just HOW DECEITFUL and straight up LYING people can be. People who write BOOKS. People who teach LAW AT UNIVERSITIES. Because NOBODY bothered to actually watch the entire show and just parroted the “Disney stole this” lie which got started by like 2 salty fans on the internet.

The man set out to just mention how Disney stole an idea, and uncovered one of the most infuriating rabbit holes on the internet. Screaming for SOMEONE to provide him with sources or evidence.

YMS will be publishing his full Kimba documentary this month which he has said is around 2 hours long before he continues to work on the Lion King one.

Science Stories: Loch Ness eDNA results, Poop Knives, and Skeleton Lovers

TREY the Explainer has a video giving us some updates in Archeology from 2019. In this video he discusses the findings of the eDNA results conducted on the Loch Ness to see what animal DNA the lake contains which will tell us what living animals currently inhabit the lake, ancient knives made of poop and if this is a real thing that could have existed, and a skeleton couple found buried together which were at first thought to be lovers, then revealed to be both male, and then how in this instance we cannot let our modern sensibilities dictate what we WANT this burial find to be, but to look at the evidence as presented to us and place in context finds of this nature. The worst thing an archaeologist can do is look for proof to a theory they already have.

The Bizarre Modern Reality of Sonic the Hedgehog

Super Eyepatch Wolf is back and he’s here to talk to us about the very very strange existence of Sonic. a 90s rebellious “too cool for School” answer to Mario, a lost idea as the world of video games changes and culture shifted, a meme and punching bag amplified by a unique fanbase and poor quality games, a transcendence into a horrific warped idea of what he once was, and modern day and where Sonic and his fans are now. As usual Super Eyepatch Wolf knocks it out of the park.

Kokoro Wish and the Birth of a Multiverse: A Lecture on the Work of Jennifer Diane Reitz

I don’t even sub to this channel as I’m not entirely sure what Ben’s usual content is about. But every now and then he has a “101″ class, where he explains to a room full of his friends in a classroom setting (complete with Whiteboard) an internet artist and oddity, the timeline, and what it is they have created. (wait... didn’t I say this already?). Unlike TRO however, the 101 classrooms are not a dark look into disturbed individuals (although the CWC 101 is debatable) nor is it a “lol look at this weirdo” dragging. Instead, of the 3 he’s done so far, it’s usually a rather sympathetic look at some of the strange artists on the internet who through some way or another, left a very big cultural impact on the internet space through their art. Sometimes they may not be the best people, but their work is so outside of what we’re used to seeing that just listening to him run you through these people’s internet history is fascinating.

In this episode he talks about Jennifer Diane Reitz. And although it is titled Kokoro Wish, the lecture is more about Jennifer’s larger work back in the early internet when being a weeb was unheard of, how being trans influenced her stories and characters, and her world building that is so rich and in-depth with it’s own ASTRO PHYSICS it puts any modern fictional world found in games or movies to shame.

Jennifer is not exactly a nice person... and in many ways can be seen as dangerously irresponsible, but she created something truly unique in a way that you kinda struggle figuring out if it’s terrible or a work of genius.

Anyway I think that’s enough for now

#Youtube #youtubers #recommendations #Self Isolation playlist #Long post #part 3 #videos #links

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cherryeol04 · 4 years

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The Firsts

Summary: No one ever told him that living was going to be so difficult. That there would emotions get couldn’t label and distinguish. He’s just a young boy trying to navigate through life and its unexpected ups and downs.

Genre: Humor, Fluff, smut(?)

Pairings: Oc x Felix, Oc x Changbin, Changbin x Oc x Felix

Warnings: poly relationship, angst in some part, excessive fighting about the MCU.

Parts: Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14 / Part 15 / Part 16/ Part 17

A/N: This story has a theme of Firsts. First love, first kiss and many other firsts. Each part can be read on their own and are meant to stand as oneshots. It’s basically a collection of oneshots (little snapshots into my Oc’s life. 😁)

“The fact you took them back.” Minho grumbled as he sat across from Aiden, eyeing the other who was trying his hardest to hide himself behind Seungmin. “We spent three hours listening to you cry! Do you know how much that hurt hyung, Aiden? I care about you and I don’t want you to be hurt again. I can’t bear to see you go through that again.” He scolded and Aiden whined.

“I know it’s just -“

“What bullshit did they feed you?” Minho asked.

“It wasn’t bullshit.” Aiden whispered.

“Hyung.” Hyunjin spoke up, staring at Minho. “I know I came in after all this happened, but scolding him isn’t going to help the situation. I’m sure he has his reasons for accepting their apology and proposal. We should be supportive.”

“I agree with Jinnie.” Seungmin nodded. “Besides, I saw them trying to make things better. Aiden just was too into his feels to notice. Whatever happened happened. It happened the way it did and now they’re trying to fix it. If it means less strain in the group, who are we to stop it?”

“But what if something happens again?” Minho protested, dropping his sandwich back on his plate and reached out, taking Aiden’s hand gently. “You know I’m not really mad or anything. I just worry about you. I was there from the start of your relationship with Felix until now. I just want -“

“And I appreciate you, hyung.” Aiden interrupted with a smile. “I really do. And I know you’re just looking out for me but I have to try this. I still love him. Both of them and if I don’t I’ll just be miserable for the rest of my life - always wondering about ‘what if’.” He said and pouted. “And if I’m wrong, then I’m wrong and I get hurt. But I’ll have learned then, and work to keep myself protected and try harder to find someone who will love me for all I am.”

“Aiden, stop trying to be such an adult. I miss the hyperactive brat you really are.” He chuckled softly. Smiling, Aiden shook hid head.

“Silly. I’ll be back to my normal self soon. I just wanted to tell you guys what happened before you like accidentally discover it. I think it was the better decision.”

“It was. Thank you for being honest with us.” Hyunjin smiled at him. “And I hope you three are happy for a while, okay?”

“Thanks. That means so much to me.”

“Alright, enough with the sappiness though. I would like to eat my lunch and not puke.” Seungmin teased, pulling laughs from the others as they went back to eating.

———

“And I told Mr. Jung that there is just no way I can compose four songs last minute like this!” Chan grumbled as he stared at his computer. “I mean I could do one or two by Friday, but I can’t do four.”

“I told you he was crazy, why didn’t you listen to me?” Woojin asked as he eyed the younger male with a smirk.

“Listen mom -“

“Damn, if this is what university life is like, I don’t want to graduate.” Jisung pouted from his spot on the floor, back pressed against the couch. His history textbook laying open in his lap. “High school is supposed to be easy too!”

“Ah, I miss the good old days.” Woojin mused with a soft sigh.

“It was literally last year.” Minho scoffed with a laugh. “Stop trying to age yourself.”

“Back in my day I had to walk down the halls with all my books in my hands. None of this new-fangled technology of lockers like you youngins have.” Chan spoke, voiced pitched in his playful teasing.

“Grandpa!” Felix cheered and laughed harder when Chan smacked his fellow Aussie in the chest with a pillow.

“Siri, how do you time travel?” Changbin asked as he held up his phone, the others laughing along with him.

“I need new friends.” Chan groaned and rubbed his nose with the palm of his hand.

“Sorry hyung, already tried that and they’re still here.” Aiden teased as he looked up from his notebook. “But you wouldn’t have us any other way.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that statement.” Chan grunted and sighed. “But no seriously, how the hell am I suppose to make 4 songs?” He asked.

“I can help if you want.” Changbin offered.

“Oh me too!” Jisung jumped in. “Just got a really high score in production class. I’m like a genius. I got you hyung.”

“Genius? In who’s world?” Seungmin asked, brow raised.

“In my world, duh.”

“I beg to differ.” Seungmin scoffed.

“Only if you call me daddy.” Jisung smirked and Aiden choked on his water, coughing harshly as he smacked his chest quickly.

“Ji! You can’t be saying that stuff around the virgin!” Minho poked at Aiden. “His poor heart can’t take your sinful tongue.” There was a beat of silence before Minho continued. “But I can.” He smirked.

“Jesus!” Aiden hissed as he coughed again. “Can we not have this sexual talk in my Christian server? Thank you!” He pouted.

“You would think, a man with two boyfriends wouldn’t still be a virgin.” Woojin mused.

“Back in my days, whores just ran about flashing every Tom, Dick, and Harry they saw.” Chan joked.

“Sometimes it was a Harry dick.” Woojin added and laughed as Aiden smacked his head on the table.

“I need new friends!” Aiden whined loudly.

“Sucks to be you kid.” Chan smirked and shook his head. “Now, about my song production.”

———

Aiden whined as he laid back in the bed, staring up at the off white ceiling of Felix’s bedroom. The room silent, save for his soft breathing and he allowed himself to fall into the thoughts that were running over a million miles a minute. It was only a single thought, one comment that had been said that was really bugging him.

“You would think, a man with two boyfriend wouldn’t still be a virgin.”

Was it bad he was still a virgin? Was Felix still one? Changbin even? He was pretty sure that Minho had been with Seungmin at one point and now was probably chasing Jisung’s tail. Said friend most likely wasn’t a virgin from all the tales he had told Aiden about the women he had dated back at his old school in Malaysia.

He couldn’t be too sure about Chan or Woojin. A part of him was thinking that they were dating based on their behavior, but a part of him wasn’t entirely sure they were both gay or simply had interest in guys. And Hyunjin was a mystery to him. The little twink acted both experienced and shy and he couldn’t even decipher what was an act and what wasn’t.

It worried Aiden. He could very possibly be the only virgin in his friend group and it seemed wrong. It’s not like he needed to have sex in order for his friends to accept him, they already did - at least he thought. It was just something about the way they teased him and Aiden wasn’t stupid. He knew they meant no harm by their words, it was all in good jest. But it was still an insecurity he had.

Being inexperienced. And now it seemed that maybe he was the only inexperienced person in the group and it worried him. His mind drifted off to thoughts of Felix and Changbin, and what would happen when it came to that time for them to be intimate. How would he able to handle it? He could barely reciprocate the moves Changbin had used on him a while ago, he certainly wouldn’t be able to survive now that there were two of them. And what if he sucked?

What if he couldn’t figure out how to touch Felix the right way? Or make Changbin moan? What if he couldn’t get either of them off and they were left hard and wanting - disappointed in his lack of ability?

He sighed and lifted his phone up, finger pressing and holding down the lock button until the screen flashed. “Siri, where is the nearest cliff I can yeet off of?”

“Okay, here is what I found.”

Aiden’s nose scrunched up as he read the results for the nearest Cliff’s Restaurant that he could eat off of.

“Good job, Siri. I knew I could count on you.” He sighed.

“Oh god, Binnie it’s worse than we thought, he’s started talking to himself.” Aiden lifted his head and watched as Felix and Changbin walked into the room, arms filled with snacks and drinks for their movie marathon.

“I knew we shouldn’t have left him alone.” Changbin tasked.

“I should have offered him my pet rock. He’s a great listener.”

Changbin paused and stared at Felix with concern. “Right.” He said slowly and gave a nod. “Okay so I’m dating two psychopaths.”

“Hey!”

“Oh, that’s creepy. They’re even in sync. Minho warned me about you crazy people.”

“Oh my god, shut up!” Aiden tossed a pillow at him, laughing as it struck Changbin in the face. “Asshole, you know you love us.”

“I never said I didn’t.” Changbin countered as he kicked the pillow back towards the bed and walked over, setting the various cans and bottles of drinks on the nightstand. Sitting up in the bed, Aiden crossed his legs as he leaned over and looked at each label.

“Alright, we got drinks. We got snacks. I got Black Panther queued in the DVD player, are we ready for a bomb ass movie night?” Felix asked.

“You’re way too excited for this." Changbin laughed as he took a seat next to Aiden on the bed.

“Black Panther is my favorite MCU movie, don’t hate.” Felix pouted as he grabbed the remote and jumped onto the bed, getting the DVD screen up on his tv.

“No hate.” Changbin hummed and smirked. “Isn’t there a legend about having sex after watching Black Panther?” He asked.

Aiden could feel his pulse start pounding as he stared at Changbin. There he was being so cheeky, trying to look innocent but his smirk was anything but. “I do not recall any legend. I believe that once we watch Black Panther then we can have cuddle sessions anywhere we want. A better achievement to unlock.” He said quickly.

Felix laughed at that and shook his head. “We can stop with this whole ‘watching marvel movies leads to something’ joke. Really, at this point, we shouldn’t base our relationship off of watching the MCU.”

“Oh lord, Felix is going to be profound again. Something about moving at our pace and being intimate when we’re ready. And blah blah blah.” Changbin rambled on and Felix pouted. “On the nose right?”

“I hate when you do that.” Felix whined and sighed before looking to Aiden. “But he’s right. Relax babe, we won’t do anything you’re not ready for.”

“W-What?! Why do you think it’s me?” He squealed our indignantly. They both gave him a pointed look and he flushed, looking away quickly.

“Because you’re the shy one.” Changbin cooed and reached out, pinching Aiden’s cheek gently. “I remember when you got so pouty when you couldn’t even touch my dick, and then you made such a mess.”

“Stop!” Aiden whined and pushed his hand away, smacking Changbin’s arm lightly. “That was so long ago.”

“It was. Wouldn’t mind doing it again honestly.”

“I wouldn’t mind watching either.” Felix grinned.

Aiden honestly wasn't sure what to say or do in that moment. Being reminded of the time he jerked off with Changbin had brought back a lot of memories and feelings that he really hadn't allowed himself to feel in a while. He could still see Changbin's face, clear as day when the other told him to cum - that thought alone sending a shiver down his spine. Did he want to do stuff with them? Of course he did. And really he was the only one holding himself back from enjoying the company of his two boyfriends - from experiencing whatever pleasure the two could bring him. He needed to get over himself, and just let loose. But it was hard, so very hard. Especially when is insecurity of being inexperienced was one of the reasons he thought Felix had cheated on him and was going to break up with him. He had been wrong, but that didn't ease any of his feelings. It only seemed to intensify them.

Aiden hadn't notice Changbin moving until he felt the broad, strong chest pressing against his back. Muscular arms wrapped around his waist, and had Changbin's arms always been that bulky and sexy? Since when had his best friend started working out? Last he remembered, he could barely get Changbin out of his bed to walk down the stairs to get food on some days. When did he find the energy to actually go to a gym and work out? "You know we won't force you, right?" Changbin's voice was soft, words so gentle as his lips grazed Aiden's ear and embarrassingly he whimpered. "It doesn't matter if we have sex now, next week or three years from now." he continued, fingers gently rubbing against the flat plane of his abdomen soothingly. It didn't actually help in any way to relax him and Aiden found himself even tenser than he had been just being lost in his own head. "It's not important. What is important is that you feel comfortable with us - with doing simple things." he said as he rested his chin on Aiden's shoulder gently.

"I know." A whisper, barely audible and Aiden hated himself for sounding so timid at the moment. "I just don't want to disappoint you."

"How can you disappoint us?" Felix asked, brow raised. "Where in your mind did you come up with such a ridiculous thought?"

"It's not ridiculous!" Aiden argued and pouted. "You both are so experienced and I'm not. Hell, I avoided kissing you for like a whole week and half because I was scared I would suck at it!" he confessed, cheeks heating up at the memories of his flailing about Changbin's home and crying to Minho and Seungmin because he just couldn't get up the courage to kiss Felix and was too afraid that if he let his guard down and Felix kissed him, the other would leave him.

"Who says we're experienced?" Felix asked with a snort. "Really Aiden? Is that what you've been thinking this whole time?" he asked.

"Well, yeah." Aiden whispered, eyes lowering as he stared at his lap, focusing on picking at the skin of his thumb, rather than the intense burn of his boyfriend's eyes on him. "Aren't you?"

Changbin laughed at that and Aiden knew he didn't mean to be hurtful in his laughter, but it did still hurt because he was laughing at him. At his apparently stupid thought process - not that he didn't agree, it was pretty stupid when he said his thoughts out loud. "No!" he spoke through his chuckles. Aiden could feel the rumble of Changbin's deep laughter through his chest, shaking Aiden to his core and for a moment he simply got lost in the feeling and the closeness. But when Changbin started talking again, he was pulled from his thoughts and forced himself to focus on the words being spoken. "I've kissed someone before, yeah. But I'm not experienced in anything. I jack off a lot, so does that give me experience in hand jobs?" he asked

"Well, I mean... maybe?" Aiden asked curiously.

"Then that means you're experienced too." Changbin pointed out. "But I haven't done anything else, with anyone, including Felix." Changbin lifted his gaze from Aiden to look at the blonde male sitting in front of them. Felix nodded his head, a soft sigh leaving his lips

"I haven't done anything either." Felix confessed. "You were my first kiss Aiden." Aiden felt his eyes widen impossibly large at the admission. He honestly hadn't thought he was Felix's first kiss. The other seemed to experienced in what they were doing - how their lips moved and the right amount of pressure to put to keep a kiss soft or maybe to make it a little more heated.

"But I thought-"

"That's the thing, baby. You thought, you never asked." Changbin cut him off, lips pressing lightly to Aiden's cheek. "You sit there and worry about being inexperienced, thinking the rest of us have so much experience that there is no way we could possibly want you, but we're just as inexperienced as you are." he told him. "And that's okay because like Felix said before, it's okay to be inexperienced. It's what life is about, going through the unknown and learning...together." Aiden could feel himself pouting, brows drawn together as he did his best to will the tears from welling up in his eyes. He remembered Felix saying that on the night of the confession in the Ferris Wheel. He just never thought they meant it, or what it actually meant for them.

But now it was different. He was being told he wasn't alone in being inexperienced. The people he thought who were experienced, weren't and for some reason, that made everything seem okay. Because he wasn't going to be embarrassing himself or being compared to a past relationship. Everything was fresh and new for them.

And maybe that's all Aiden had needed to know from the very start.

"I want to." he whispered, lifting his gaze to meet Felix's eyes and then turned his head to stare at Changbin.

"Want to what?" Felix asked gently.

"Have sex. I want to, I'm just scared." He felt Changbin's arms tighten around him, pulling him back closer as he nuzzled his neck gently.

"It's okay. We can do it when you're ready, baby. There's nothing to be scared about okay?" Aiden nodded his head slowly, letting out a soft exhale as he relaxed fully against Changbin. Lifting his arms, he held them out towards Felix, smiling as the Australian crawled into his lap and laid against him, cuddling into his chest. Aiden wrapped his arms around Felix and sighed contently, eyes closing as he enjoyed the warmth the closeness brought to him. Aiden watched as Felix grabbed the remote for his DVD player once more and started the movie, the three of them falling into a comfortable silence as they were sucked into wonders of Black Panther. The worries and fears that had plagued Aiden's mind for almost year were finally eased, assured that his two boyfriends would take their time with him and not rush him and he was sure they would make their first time together - whenever that may be - memorable. And for that, he was so thankful to have them in his life.

#stray kids #skz #fanfic #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids au #skz au #stray kids fanfic au #skz fanfic au #au story #the firsts #humor #fluff #changbin #felix #changbin x oc #felix x oc #changbin x oc x felix

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danetobelieve · 4 years

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I Spy With My Little Eye || Darwin, Rio and Winston

Usually, when people invited Darwin it was always about some demon that needed to be banished, or the occasional booty call. In this case it wasn’t a demon, but something definitely suspicious anyway: Winston had asked his expert opinion on a knife and... An eye? Pictures had been sent, but the messages had been vague, the sort of short responses you only give when your current project is eating most of your time away, or when it’s troubling you enough that you don’t feel like sharing much over the internet. Whatever Winston had gotten themselves into, it must be something big. Something dangerous, judging by the carvings on the knife. Darwin liked to think of himself as a demonic expert, but even he had some trouble identifying the symbols on the weapon. Which is why he’d asked Winston to see it in person: books were fine, Darwin had even brought a few with him in his bag, but in his experience a hands-on approach was always the best way to get answers. Which is why he now stood there, bag filled with tomes and various supplies, lips slightly twisted in an excited smile. Dangerous, sure, but interesting nonetheless. Too bad Bertrand would have to miss this: Winston had mentioned a roommate, and Darwin couldn’t be sure they’d be as welcoming about fashionable yokai as Winston had been. After a moment to fix his clothes, he knocked. “It’s Darwin. I brought something.”

Winston had been working with Rio for a bit now. Ricky was off working out, training or something else that would make Winston sweat and wheeze. But they were making progress, at least, they hoped by it. The carvings on the knife were beyond Winston and every search of the internet that they had done on the images carved into the knife hadn’t been all that helpful. There were just too many resources to be able to reliably cut down and some of the answers that they were getting were conflicting or just downright contradictory. “Hey Darwin,” Winston said with a yawn as they opened the front door a mug of coffee already on the way up to their lips, “we’re in the workshop I’ll show you the way.” Winston turned and led them through the house to where the old garage had been converted. They were in the corner that was Winston’s, a mess of notes and old leather bound tomes were scattered across the parts of the desktop not covered by wires, the keyboard or the mouse. A bank of screens on the wall were each running their own individual search. Some cross referencing, some image searching and some running through key phrases. “Darwin, this is my friend Rio, Rio this is Darwin, he’s … an expert.”

Winston has mentioned that somebody would be dropping by that would hopefully be able to help with the research. Orion hoped that he could, because the two desperately needed it. They had cleared a small space in the workshop for Rio to set up an area, and Rio had taken full advantage of the given space. He had pulled whatever books he could fine at the Scribe building on demons and stuffed them in his book bag to bring back home. Now they laid spread across his desk space, sharing it with various cans of energy drinks. Rio had been going on about twenty seven hours without sleep now. His eyes were bloodshot and his pink hair was a tangled mess, but he kept it hidden beneath a baseball cap. He was also incredibly jittery, the sugar rush of the energy drinks being the only thing keeping him going at the moment. Rio heard Winston and Darwin coming before the door opened. He leapt up to hop over and extend his hand out to the man here to help. “Hey there! So happy to have you here! We need an expert. How are you?”

“I don't know if I'd call myself an expert after having seen your setup here...” Darwin looked around the room with a low, impressed whistle. “You've been busy, I see.” Most of the screens and wires were as alien to Darwin as runes and rituals were to the common folk, but there was no denying the two had been poured their heart and soul into whatever they were researching. He turned to Rio and shook his hand. “Darwin Asrani, at your service.” For a moment he hesitated, wondering if the young man would recognize the last name, and if so what he'd make of it. Being an Asrani came with a certain reputation, one that would give Darwin credibility in his 'expert' role, but could also cause some tension. Then again, the two seemed way too exhausted to care about his family, for which Darwin was grateful. “I'd say I'm more well rested than both of you. Is... Is that a first edition?” The sight of tomes like those laying so close to coffee and drinks made him shudder a little: his book store may only be a cover, but he still cared about knowledge. “Well, the sooner we begin, the sooner you two can get some sleep. I've brought some books as well, I think I recognized some of the symbols on the pictures you sent me.” Darwin took out a couple of tomes and gently added them to the pile on the desk. Like most of the books in his private collection, they were old and written in a language long forgotten. “I'm afraid I couldn't understand most of what was written in there. I got this as payment for a... Favor I did for a friend. But maybe if we cross-reference them with whatever you have here we could...” He let the sentence hang, twirling his moustache for a few moments. “Anyway, what are we looking for, here, exactly?”

“Sleep is for the weak, finals season is worse then this.” Squinting at the book for a moment, Winston grabbed the mug of coffee and poured it into the one they already had in their hand before placing the coffee mug next to the book. Placing it in the microwave in the corner, Winston shrugged. “It might be? I don’t know about first editions but it has some very fascinating information in it that helped us to … well more questions.” Winston forgot about their coffee as Darwin kept talking and began to explain their point of view. “Okay, so the situation is that we’re pretty sure there is a demon in the lake, big squid demon. It’s been cordoned off by the police but a few of us managed to get close to the lake hoping we could do some recon and get a real look. Instead, we actually ran into a cult, well, we say cult, we don’t actually know. They were wearing robes, chanting in a long dead demon language, had their eyes sewn shut and their eyes in their hands somehow? Anyway, we beat feet and got out of there but we’ve got some samples.” Winston pointed at some of the photos they had taken, both of the cultists by the lake and of the eyes which they were keeping on ice in the back of their freezer (the tupperware was brightly labelled and Winston didn’t know what Ricky’s problem was). “Rio over here has been working on the language and I’ve been trying to analyse the eyes as well as run searches through the database of information we’re collating. It had made sense to give them home access to all of the digitised information that Rio had accrued. “So, I guess we’re trying to work out what the dagger says and find out anymore information on this stuff that we can?”

Admittedly, Orion didn’t even feel that tired. Most likely they had reached some sort of numbness, long passing the point of exhaustion and entering some state of sleep deprived and caffeine fueled hysterics. “It is first edition. The Scribe who owned it was a friend of the original author.” Rio answered nonchalantly, remembering the signature on the inside of the first page. Sometimes he felt like he hadn’t even made a dent in the Scribe library, which in a lot of ways he hadn’t. But other times like these he finally thought he was making some progress. “The creepy cult people kept making mentions of the water and ‘joining the bodies’. It makes sense to assume that they mean the lake when they say water just because that’s where the cultists were, but I haven’t really found anything to prove that yet. I was able to hunt down the translation for water in the language. It’s written on the white board over there.” Rio babbled, pointing haphazardly towards the board while he focused instead on type books Darwin had brought along. “Woah. These looks old.” He ran his finger along the spine and stared at it in wonder, “Can I start looking through them? If I can find a match somewhere in these books with the what we know about water and bodies and joining then I bet we can pinpoint the language.”

Darwin blinked. “You... Suspected there's a giant demon in the lake and you decided to take a look? No wonder Hellhounds leave you unimpressed.” Darwin tried to make sense of everything Winston and Rio told him. Squid demon was too vague a clue: most demons adapted their form to fit humans' expectations of a monster, and the imagery of tentacles had been present enough throughout history to become sort of a staple. Eyes and hands were also pretty common in demonology: windows to the soul, the tools with which someone shapes the environment around them... Off the top of his head Darwin could think of four Greater demons who would appreciate something like that, but two were supposed to be just a legend, one had been banished and the other was always depicted as a spider, not a squid. And none of them had a particular interest in water, or joining bodies. “They were chanting, you said. A ritual, maybe a prayer of some sort? What day was it? Lunar phase? The moon often matters when water is involved, something about the tide. And I'm assuming you crashed the party and interrupted them, right? If so, they might try again. If I were you I'd try to keep an eye, pun intended, on the lake during the next few days. Demons don't appreciate their cultists missing Sunday's mass.” Darwin was about to ask even more questions, but he figured the two already had enough on their plate, so instead he nodded at Rio's request. “Knock yourself out.” He walked to the pictures, picking them up one by one and studying each of them for a few moments, focusing more on the ones depicting the knife. After a couple of seconds, he pointed at one of the symbols on the blade. “This one here, I think it has something to do with energy. Or spirits, maybe, not sure. I saw the same symbol in the black leather-bound book on top, you might find something in there. Oh, and... That's a first edition, too.” A weird flex, but one Darwin couldn't help: he might not have only three degrees of separation between himself and the author, but his collection had always been his pride and joy.

Shrugging, Winston gave Darwin a smile. “Yeah, well, I’ve found that if I don’t actively try and solve these potentially town ending problems then it has less then enjoyable consequences. Especially after the mimes.” Winston began googling so that they could answer Darwin’s questions. “That is a good point, it was like four days ago and on a day after the full moon which means that it was a waning gibous, I can’t believe that we didn’t consider lunar phases affecting tidal currents within the lake. I mean, or something like that.” Winston remembered Kaden opening fire without warning with a wince. “Yeah, well crashing the party wasn’t exactly something that we volunteered for, but yeah, I think they would probably go back. The place is meant to be being watched by the cops, but I’ll see if I can set up some cameras in the area so that we can at least get an idea about it. I might even be able to get it on the police budget…” they scratched their head thoughtfully and made a few quick notes on a sticky note. Raising an eyebrow at Darwin’s comment. Winston had to admit that they didn’t understand the whole first edition being a boast thing. Sure the book was older and therefore more valuable, but edition 1 was usually the one with the most problems that were slowly fixed and made worse in edition 2,3,4 and so on. “Energy and spirits, I can run a search on other symbols that are used for that,” Winston tapped a few buttons and symbols began to arrange themselves into a grid on the screen in front of them as their search results loaded in, “I don’t know if that helps though….”

It only took Darwin’s approval to dive into the book, skimming through the pages as Orion listened to Darwin and Winston continue the conversation. Rio had to admit that he wasn’t exactly well versed in the lunar cycles, but maybe it was something he should start learning. It wouldn’t be too hard to incorporate the lunar calendar into his own and memorize the patterns. But that wasn’t important right now. “You can keep a hold of the knife if you’re looking at that. I have the pictures that Kaden sent me.” Glancing through the book Darwin suggested, he came across a symbol that he recognized from some of the Scribe books he had read on a similar subject. He rushed over to the white board, sketching some of the symbols that he had found that he thought looked similar to the symbols on the knife. Then he brought the picture on his phone up and propped it against the board, zooming in on various spots of the picture and trying to mention it. “These symbols look pretty similar to this sketch on the knife. Something about a shelter or home. There’s something else on the knife that matches with the symbol. Another part of the word or something. I’ll keep looking.” Rio exclaimed, excited that he was working with another first edition. To think that the author of this book had personally put this together, that it was his own words on the page was fascinating. “The squid itself is an interesting choice for a demon. They’ve been seen as a sort of monstrous creature for a long time. The Kraken dates all the way back to the 13th century.” He spoke, mostly to himself as he worked. Something about the familiarity of the subject made the unknown of the thing they’re studying a bit calming. “I don’t know that being a squid is necessarily related to the demon. But considering the connection to water my guess is that choosing some kind of aquatic creature was specific.”

“Cameras are a good idea. If I wanted to hold a ritual nearby a place full of cops I'd try a sleeping spell first. Or illusions. Memory spells would work too... It's easy to deceive the human mind, but cameras? I for one would not have thought of that. I'm too old-fashioned, I suppose.” Darwin shrugged before clearing his throat. “I should note that I do not make a habit of holding dark rituals in the moonlight, cops or no cops. I have better things to do with my spare time.” People were quick to assume the worst of a demonic expert, sarcasm and deflection had become second nature to him. Putting the pictures down, he moved behind Rio, watching carefully as he added notes and compared symbols, going too quick for Darwin to really follow. “Water definitely seems to be a recurring theme, yes. Perhaps what we're looking for is something involving both shelter and water. And over there, zoom on that picture, please...” Again, he nodded. “That little hook at the end of that rune is often used to represent a sign, a warning. Winston, can your fancy computer see if there's anything that would involve all of these things? A shelter, water and a warning? Maybe a place where the... Joining of bodies, was it?... can take place. Or maybe...” Darwin's musings were cut short by one of the screens beeping, and he turned to look, hopeful. “I want one of those. Wouldn't know how to run anything on it except Minefield, but I want it. Has it found a match for the spirit bit?”

“I mean, we don’t know that they have magic necessarily,” Winston replied with a shrug, “but yeah, cameras sound like a good idea, hopefully they won’t think of it.” Pausing for a moment, Winston laughed a little at Darwin’s joke, maybe it wasn’t a joke. Winston wasn’t sure that Darwin struck them as the type to have moonlit rituals. At least this was good natured fun research, for once they weren’t nearly dying. At least not yet. Winston grabbed their coffee and swallowed a mouthful that was now piping hot. Winston followed Darwin’s instructions carefully and listened carefully to their conversation. Honestly, this was a little out of their league but it was all so fascinating. “Cross referencing everything is something I can definitely do,” Winston set to work, setting up the specific search parameters before setting the search going. The screen beeped with results far faster then Winston had expected, but at least they weren’t going to be sitting around waiting for ages. “It looks like this is something to do with a lighthouse y’know, like the old timey beacon thing, look over here, you’ve got multiple symbols for lighthouses, both in terms of a nautical capacity and as a geographic location. I guess it makes sense right?” There were a few old newspaper articles, various other search results were flashing up in the background too.

Some time had passed since they had first started diving into the research. When Orion found that he had started dozing off while looking for something relevant he reached beneath his desk and cracked open another energy drink. “A lighthouse?” Rio questioned, perking up at the discovery and glancing over at the screen to see what Winston had found. “That fits the theme of water!” They were getting somewhere, they had to be! “Obviously lighthouses have a functional purpose, but beyond that they’re used as a religious symbol. It’s seen as some sort of spiritual guide. Not sure if it that has any connection to the spirit symbol on the knife or not.” He sighed. Maybe he was trying to find a connection where there wasn’t one. He studied the blade of the knife again. Noticing some slight differences between symbols that he had originally thought to be similar. “Hm. The first time I looked at these I thought these were the same.” He pointed at the knife, “something to do with joining or coming together.” He flipped through the book again, spotting down a symbol he had glanced over the last time. “But I think right here looks more like some kind of transformation.” He made a correction on the white board, looking over the change that had been made. “So joining the bodies like Nell said, and then transformation of spirit and something about a lighthouse.”

Darwin listened carefully, his eyes darting quickly between Rio and Winston, and suddenly he found himself wishing he had some coffee as well. “Lighthouse. An odd thing to put on a ritual knife, but you're right, lighthouses have been a recurring religious symbol in the past, which would definitely fit with a crazy cult. Perhaps their purpose was to... Summon a lighthouse? Or rather, a beacon. To guide something... To the place of the ritual?” Darwin shook his head, unsure. Pacing back and forth, he went on. “Lighthouse beacon, joining of bodies, transformation of spirit...” He repeated those words over and over, their only clues. Could it mean the ritual was meant to guide a spirit to join with its original body, transforming its form from incorporeal to very much corporeal? Wild speculation at best, they didn't have enough information to be sure of anything. Darwin pinched his nose and sighed. If only he'd been there to witness the ritual, maybe he could be of more help. And then a crazy idea started to take root in his mind, and he moved to his bag. “So, most people would find what I'm about to suggest... Shady, at best. But I've done something similar in the past, and I can promise, it yields results. You said you have samples, and I've seen pictures of an eye. Do you, by any chance... Have said eye?” Instead of bracing himself for their reactions, Darwin simply left them no time to react and continued. “During big rituals there's always some sort of... magical residue, and the eye was at the center of it all. It might be possible to channel that residue and let us... See what the eye saw. Its memories, so to speak.” Mental magic, the other Asrani specialty. Granted, Darwin had never used it on an eye, it shouldn't even be possible: dead things have no mind, no memories to share. But then again, magic was life, and the eye probably had been bathed in it multiple times. Chances were, it was less of an eye now and more of a focus, and as such he could use it.

“Lighthouses could also mean somewhere to avoid maybe?” Winston thought that it seemed like a long shot but whilst everyone was riffing and spitballing they might as well throw something against the wall and see if anything stuck. “Lighthouses are there to show where rocks are right, so maybe it’s something like that?” Winston wasn’t convinced. Listening carefully to Darwin’s suggestion, they thought for a moment before nodding carefully. “gimme a sec and I’ll get the eye, does anyone want anything from the kitchen while I’m there? I might get some snacks, I don’t remember when I last ate.” Dashing to the kitchen, Winston returned with arms laden with various treats and a carefully wrapped eye that had been retrieved from the lake and carefully stored in their fridge-freezer. “So, what exactly do you need us to do?” Winston was aware that this was something that could potentially be viewed as somewhat shady by other members of the magic community. But Winston had deliberately refused to join a coven to avoid any conflicts of interest like this and as long as everyone was volunteering and no one got hurt Winston wasn’t exactly sure what the problems were. The ethical implications seemed fairly clear cut for once.

“It’s true, in the literal sense that serves the dual purpose as both a warning, not to get too close and a signal that land is near. If I was more fluent in the language I may be able to tell some sort of difference. Just like English has its nuances to the language. Context clues provide a lot more detail when you’re trying to paint an entire picture. Unfortunately we’re going in sorta blind.” It wasn’t the most optimistic of views, but Orion was mostly pointing out that he was disappointed he hadn’t had more time to learn the language. Not that learning some creepy ancient demon language was particularly high on his priority list. The last thing he needed was to accidentally summon something, which would have been his luck. “You kinda ruined the appetite asking if we wanted food in the same sentence as saying you’ll grab the eyeball.” Rio shrugged. He had tried to wipe the memory of the eye from his memory anyways, so the idea of doing some creepy ritual using the thing was… well it wasn’t something Rio was about to jump for joy at. But it was the best shot they had at trying to piece some of the loose bits of information that they had together. Plus, Rio knew he was just going to go along with whatever Winston did anyways. Wasn’t that what he had been doing for weeks now? They were some kind of kryptonite. “This sounds terrifying but uh- I guess I don't have any other ideas. So let’s get started.”

“Context clues, that's exactly what I'm hoping to get from this little... Let's call it a seance, it's less unnerving than 'foreboding dark ritual'.” Darwin commented with another shrug, perhaps a bit too comfortable with the idea of digging through the memories of an eye that was most definitely part of some twisted cult. Most of what Darwin studied and did was considered questionable by the majority of other magic users, but as far as Darwin was concerned results were what mattered, and he got results. “I'm also going to need a bowl, one that you don't mind throwing away. And maybe some orange juice? I love me some orange juice.” While Winston was away, Darwin dug through his bag, taking out a carefully wrapped dagger, not unlike the one they've been studying for what felt like hours. The runes on his were of channeling and protection, of course, but to the uninitiated Darwin was sure it would've looked ominous; that's why he'd asked the juice: he figured the explanation of what they were about to do would be more comforting if given with such an unassuming drink in hand. “Mental magic is... Deceptively simple, even a beginner can pull off a trick or two. But here we're dealing with a dead thing, one that we don't know.” For a moment Darwin doubted himself, wondered if they were biting off more than they could chew. Then again, the alternative of not knowing was worse. “We need to bring life to it. Not necromancy, but... Still unpleasant. Blood is life, you see? By sharing our blood with the eye, we might restore some of its energy. And since the blood will be ours, we'll create a... A connection. And that is what will let us see through it. Hopefully. So... When you're ready just put the bowl between us and place the eye inside. I'll get us started.”

“You could just call it a plan, because seance isn’t at all better then dark foreboding ritual,” Winston reached up and adjusted their glasses again, pushing them further up their nose. Winston passed the orange juice and the bowl over to Darwin. “If we could avoid getting anything caught on fire that would be great, otherwise if we bin the bowl I can deal.” Winston watched curiously as Darwin pulled a dagger that look ritualistic from their bag and couldn’t help but admit that they felt a little jealous. They wished they had a ritual knife. Either way, Winston carefully unwrapped the eye and placed it in the center of the bowl so that the iris was facing the ceiling. The white of the eye looked a little less pure in that moment and Winston found the dark hazel iris really unnerving. “Shit, okay, I’ve never done blood magic, this is really cool,” Winston knew that they probably shouldn’t be excited about this but they loved trying new things and blood magic had been fascinating to read about, “oh god sorry this is just really fucking cool.” Unbuttoning the cuffs of their shirt, Winston rolled their sleeves up in anticipation, taking a deep shaky breath. “I’m ready when you are Rio.”

Nothing about a ritual or a seance sounded good to Rio. It sounded terrifying and pretty much every sense of the term. “Nothing’s gonna catch on fire! That would be crazy!” Rio was laughing now, convinced that Winston had meant it as a joke. But he quickly sombered up when he realized that he didn’t know much about the world that he was currently diving into. “Wait… like seriously? Woah.” Now he definitely didn’t want any part of this. But it was too late now. “Cool is definitely one word for it.” Rio mumbled in reply to Winston. Maybe Rio was a little excited, but only because he had never seen anything like this before. He would have much rather read about it afterwards or watched it from afar rather than experience it himself. Winston was unrolling their sleeves to get ready. In the movies, didn’t they always use the palm of their hands for some reason? Rio wasn’t thrilled at the idea of rolling up his own sleeves. Now wasn’t the time to have to explain the scars that laid beneath his hoodie, but he would if he had to. For now, he just held his hand out towards Darwin, shutting his eyes and bracing himself for the pain. “Let’s get started.”

Darwin smiled again, doing his best to be reassuring when he noticed Rio's reluctance. “This is more within the realm of mental magic, to be fair. Blood is an ingredient, but the focus of the ritual will be to connect our minds to the eye. Blood magic is... Not my specialty. But like all the Arts, magic often draws its power from multiple sources.” It felt good to share his knowledge with these two. Darwin was used to working alone, and before that he was used to being the apprentice, never the mentor. He wasn't a fan of the responsibility that came with the role, but the admiration? He ate that up. “I should also warn you... Mental magic is subtler than other branches. There won't be any fireworks in this particular spell, so no fire hazard. But that doesn't make it any less powerful, and there's a good chance we won't be seeing rainbows and unicorns, so be prepared for anything. Am I making myself clear?” He waited, letting his silence weigh heavily on the other two as he moved the small flame from his lighter across the blade. “Here we go.”

Before Rio could have any second thoughts, Darwin grabbed his wrist, gently yet firmly. The scars were noticed, but Darwin spared them no thought, too focused on his task. A small cut on Rio's palm was all it took, and Darwin tried to make it as quick and painless as possible, offering Rio an apologetic smile. Then it was Winston's turn to go through the same process. “Let the blood drip in the bowl and look at the eye. Look through the eye, let it show you what we seek.” Darwin winced as he sliced his own palm, a shallow wound that quickly drew a thin red line on his hand. He closed his fist above the bowl and let the blood flow, drop by drop. Words of power followed in a low whisper. Those well versed with languages might recognize words such as 'connection' and 'sight', and what sounded like a request. In his rituals Darwin never demanded, only suggested: he wouldn't taint his magic with slavery, he was better than that. The other two followed his example, letting their own blood mix with his in the bowl. The air around them grew cold, and then impossibly hot, and the red liquid started to react to Darwin's energy. Small ripples at first, and then bubbles as the blood started to boil. And then something unexpected happened. Darwin felt a surge in power, one he hadn't anticipated, strong enough that he was sure the other two must have sensed it too. Darwin looked at them with what could only be described as panic on his face as he realized he was unable to stop the ritual: another force, one Darwin didn't recognize, was pulling from the other side, keeping him from severing the connection. The eye started rotating in the bowl, spinning faster and faster, focusing its dead pupil on each of the three. They'd wanted a connection, alright, but this ran deeper than Darwin expected. Smoke rose from the bowl as the level of the boiling blood kept rising. Darwin felt his own eyes moving in sync with the dead eyeball, and then he stared in horror as the dead thing stopped moving and started to melt like candle wax. The last thing he saw were three red tendrils slide up, towards their closed fists still dripping blood in the bowl. He felt his hand being opened by force and something slide inside the small cut he'd make. And then, he saw.

Third eyes were really not what Winston had expected from this. Not at all. But as the blood spiralled from the bowl and funnelled into their hand, Winston could really see. For the first time ever. It was different from normal sight. They could still see everything in front of them, but somehow they could also see everything else that the eye was showing them. Winston looked down and saw the eye that had been in the bowl was somehow set into their palm and for a second they could see their own face looking down at the eye and then there was darkness. A thick fog enveloped their vision and when it began to clear Winston could feel sweat pouring down their back, their legs shook but the vision kept going. The fog was getting less thick now and Winston spotted a light in the distance, and then another one, and then another, the lights slowly blinking open. Wait, no, they weren’t lights, rather giant eyes that rolled and spun to fixate on Winston. Bloodshot veins ran through the eyes in jagged lightning bolts of crimson and scarlet, cutting across the pale white backdrop of the eye. The irises seemed to spiral and blur, running into one another in a constant never ending whirlpool that was somehow spiralling and still all at once. The eyes didn’t seem to have a body to them, and yet they sat their, hanging in the darkness and blinking. There was a creature, Winston couldn’t see it’s body. Just it’s mouth. A long, purple, leathery skin covered a jaw that protruded from the darkness. Long, jagged and uneven teeth stick from the bottom lip. The teeth are cracked, scarred and chipped, they’re clearly used to tear and grind. To mash and chew. To rip and maim. Yet they’re a perfect, snow white. The colour of which Winston has never seen. The colour so bright that you can see it in the darkness before you notice the rest of the mouth.

At first, Orion had no idea what was going on. Whatever magic Darwin was using, it seemed to be working. He was mumbling about seeing, a rather pointed line considering they were pouring their blood over a frozen eyeball. But then the eyeball leapt. Or moved or did something and suddenly it was attached to Winston. “What the heck is it doing to him?” Rio yelled out, beginning to move but suddenly being unable to. Oh god, this must be part of the spell or maybe it was something the eye was doing to them. Rio had no idea what was going on. But he had a sense of dread that had washed over him as he suddenly felt like he was being watched. He didn’t know the full scope of it until the eye hopped from Winston’s eye and began sliding across his arm, the tendons trailing behind the eye as it scurried to its new victim. Finally, it hopped over to Rio, still unable to move or jerk away from it. Goosebumps shot up his arms when the eye touched him and it easily slid into the cut that Darwin had made.As soon as the eye latched on, that’s when Rio figured out the true scope of why he had felt being watched. He could see them. Thousands of eyes. Some attached to the walls and some their own lone creatures, chained down and jerking around, ooze and blood dripping from them as they fought to be freed. What was this? Rio could only hear the room they were in, but whatever he was seeing seemed so real, so disgustingly vivid that he felt like he could hear the chains rattling and the sound of blood dripping onto the floor. Worse, it was like the monsters were staring right at him. The veins that ran through the eyes were dark red and blood escaped from them, coating the eyes with streaks of blood mixing together with all the others, creating a sea of blood between the monsters. It wasn’t like anything that Rio had ever seen before. He had never felt so dark or scared in his entire life. He could feel the tears escaping his own eyes. He needed these visions to stop. Jesus, he would do anything to make it all stop.

The notes and screens in the room blended together with visions of bones and raw muscles pulsing to a macabre beat, and Darwin couldn't make out what was real and what was just a cruel trick of the eye. There was something malicious in it, something ancient and powerful that he could not hope to push back. He stood there, cold sweat sticking to his neck as he was helpless to stop what was happening. Darwin witnessed Winston and Rio being assaulted by that dark, foreboding energy that had been awakened by the spell, he watched as the eye moved from one to the other. And then he knew, it was his turn next. Unable to react, Darwin swallowed back an anguished scream as the eyeball disappeared from Rio's hand, but when the evil sphere latched onto his own hand and made its way inside the pocket he'd unknowingly carved for it he was unable to hold back a whimper, equal parts fear and pain, and he turned around in a futile attempt to escape. His vision blurred, and the room was replaced with a terrible sight. Barren lands, grey hills covered with dark mist and darker thorns, haunted by creatures that he'd only read about, and some he never even imagined. Black leathery wings surrounded him, a swarm of bats with luminescent claws. He raised his hand to protect his face, the eye still blinking ominously on his palm, and when Darwin lowered the arm he was met with another sight, a mass of monsters. Hounds, and grotesque hybrids that vaguely looked humanoid, some of them dripping what looked like acid. Fangs and screeches surrounded him and Darwin grabbed his head and knelt down, crawling back. “No, no, stop!” That last word was an anguished scream, covered by the sound of the bowl falling to the floor. His back was against the small table, his breath heavy. He looked around, and everything looked just like it had before they'd begun the ritual: sticky notes covered the walls, empty cans of energy drinks were scattered all over, books were exactly like they'd left them. Finally he stood up and turned to face the other two, voice trembling. “Are... Are you alright? Did you see?” With a sudden realization, Darwin lowered his eyes to his hand. Instead of the cut he saw what could only be described as a closed eyelid, but of the eye no trace. “The... The eye. Where is it?”

Drenched in sweat, Winston could feel their clothes sticking to their skin. Their exhaustion was beyond palpable. Their chest rose and fell in laboured attempts to drag oxygen to their brain as a bead of perspiration rolled down the end of their nose and dripped onto the floor with a plop that was so quiet it deafened Winston. Looking down at their hand, the eye had returned to their palm and was looking back up at them, but the visions of the monsters had stopped. “It’s in my hand,” Winston said with a wince as they flashed them their right palm and showed them the beady eye sat in the center of their limb. “Fuck, that, was weird as shit. Do you think- do you think that is what the cult is trying to do?” They had seen terrible terrible things. monsters that they hadn’t ever been able to comprehend previously. Ghoulish creatures with bones that jutted through skin at odd angles, razor sharp teeth and talons, rough skin, scales, fur and eyes. So many eyes. They bored into Winston’s brain as they did everything that they could to forget the terrible things that they had seen. A tear rolled down the side of Winston’s face as they sat there, exhausted. “Oh fuck, that was pretty fucking bad wasn’t it?”

#i spy with my little eye #p: darwin #p: orion #wickedswriting #chatzy para #chatzy #para

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ohnohetaliasues · 4 years

Text

Stones to Abbigale {Ch. 1}

(Kat)

This is going to be the worst thing I’ve ever read, isn’t it?

Am I going to actively want to die? Yes, most likely. But apparently, because I run a blog like this, I can endure suffering.

Flashbacks to Blood Raining Night.

Here we go. We will start with the introduction, written by the onion lord himself.

I want to be direct, my name is Greg. I go by “Onision” online.

Okay, I dunno what it is, but something feels off about this sentence.

This book is made up of events that occurred in my own life mixed with fiction from the made up life of James. James is essentially a better version of myself.

I can’t imagine how good that could be, seeing as the man who wrote this is a child predator and is just an overall piece of hot garbage.

His home, his school & his life all resemble my own at his age.

Don’t ever use a fucking ampersand instead of the word ‘and.’ It’s just bad grammar.

The people James analyzes and is surrounded by are not so unlike those I’ve known as well.

Analyzes?

Why?

I have experienced much of the loss James has however his happier moments are more often than not also mine.

Then write a memoir. Not this.

I want to share my story without it being purely non-fiction.

I mean, some people do this with books about their lives, but this feels... Odd?

I simply felt this approach would make for a far better book. At points I cried while writing this, at others I laughed.

Congratulations.

I don’t care.

Stones To Abbigale is not just a book I wrote, it is a piece of who I am.

That’s a given for all writers, but I still don’t care.

I’m going to rip this book to shreds.

Okay here we go.

I was asleep until I met her, but when I woke, I learned the meaning of "perfect imperfection."

Is this Onion boy trying to be poetic?

It actually made me want to die.

I've always been the type of person to focus on stars as we spin beneath them, the cool breeze on a sunny day, scattered patches of grass under my feet, the world around me, often forgetting to even glance at the one within.

‘The one within.’

Okay so the way this is written makes those three things seem disconnected. I often do stuff like this when I write, but I’d write it like ‘as we spin beneath them, focus on the breeze on a sunny day, on the scattered patches of grass, etc.’

You couldn’t pay me all the money in the world to rewrite that garbage sentence. This is all very waxing poetic and not in a good well structured way.

I had remained emotionally unexplored for so much of my life.

That must’ve been boring, not experiencing human emotions like the rest of us.

You sociopath, you.

It's painful knowing some can go an entire lifetime without understanding their own heart, an internal lock waiting for the right key to change everything.

Yeah, whatever, shut the hell up, you whiny idiot.

This is like an introduction by a teenager who just opened a poetry book and was like ‘yup. I wanna write like that.’

Except you aren’t William Blake or Walt Whitman and you never will be.

Sorry, Onion boy.

Except I’m not.

Die mad about it, grease ball.

It was the first Monday of November. I opened my eyes, blinded by my recently painted wall-to-wall white room. Even my bed frame, constructed of purely metal, was painted white.

Okay, cool. I’m a descriptive writer and I take every chance I can get to mention details, but even I find this description awkward. It feels irrelevant in this situation.

It bounced off the walls causing my eyelids to desperately clamp together. Painting my room like this was a clear act of subtle self-inflicted psychological torture.

Then why in the sweet hell did you do it? Do you enjoy suffering?

Actually, he probably does.

Because this is edgy as hell.

I was going through another phase, from darkness to light, and repeat. Seemed like the story of my life.

This is so edgy I am in physical pain.

You know your symbolism is good when it’s so random that you have to point it out and explain it to your audience.

My mom could see the darker colors were depressing me, I felt comforted by them, but found there were good aspects of both extremes. I was happy to visit either side, they are both so simple. But right now the intense light bouncing from wall to wall felt like it was ripping my mind in two.

Am I an idiot or is that just... word salad?

My mom didn't wake me. My alarm clock sat on my dresser with no explanation for it's failure to function. The clock only illuminated a blank stare with 8:17 written all over it's face. While entirely robotic, I imagined the clock to have the dumbest possible expression, one complementing its failure to behave any way outside its random glitch-infested nature.

That was the worst way to write a personification ever, but okay.

In the reflection of it's plastic face I could see myself unconsciously making the dumb expression I was imaging the clock to have. I laughed in my casual dorky tone and began to get ready to leave home.

I’m not laughing, idiot.

Without breakfast, I left for school with a bogus note in hand to idealistically explain my tardiness.

You... You wrote a fake note?

Do you realize you could get in trouble for that?

You’re an idiot.

I think most of my teachers were too exhausted to worry about small variances in our appearance from time to time. With how low their pay likely was, I imagined there were very few rules most teachers cared about.

That isn’t true at all. Teachers have to pay attention to rules unless they want to get, I dunno, fired.

It was another cold day in Lakewood. The wind hit my eyes forcing tears to form in the corners as I sped along the sidewalk at a no-doubt unreasonable speed.

I cannot imagine any good imagery for this scene. I’m just imagining this gif:

I passed Lauren and Raymon walking the opposite direction, no doubt headed toward the nearby church where all the students go to smoke, make out and hide out till school ends.

Um okay. Does this guy know that if characters don’t have relivance to the story, if they have no reason to be named, than they don’t have to be?

No.

Because he’s a 34 year old man baby.

They seemed so childish as they held hands and smiled excitedly as if they had gotten away with some tremendous crime.

That sentence seems so robotic I genuinely can’t.

Mr. Hanson, my heavy-set, middle-aged history teacher, rolled his eyes as I walked into class. "James, talk to me after class" he said quickly, looking away from me as if I were an undervalued employee who was barely important enough to make eye contact with let alone deliver a full sentence to.

It bothers me so deeply that a new paragraph wasn’t started when this character talked.

"I have a note," I said. He ignored me, and continued his lecture on yet another topic that would not only be completely useless later in life, but wasn't even relevant for even a few seconds after the words left his mouth.

Why is this teacher acting like a petty teenager?

I’m deeply annoyed by this.

And yeah, it’s relevant. You have tests, you idiot. Take notes. And it’s also history, which is, again, relevant.

In conclusion, shut your mouth and stop bitching.

There was only 15 minutes left in the class, but I felt it would be more stimulating to integrate myself into the room to yet again study my classmates' behavior than to sit in a hall watching the rows of scum covered tiles inevitably slide off the decaying walls.

That’s a health code violation, friends.

Or Onion is an awful writer and he thinks describing a school like this is a good idea. My money is on that.

For as long as I remember I've enjoyed seeing how people move around and talk to each other, like they're all animals at the zoo.

Something is wrong with you, friend. Liking to people watch is one thing, but doing shit like this is something else entirely.

Uh, try sociopath-like?

Creepy as hell?

We’ll go with both.

I would try to deliver a more accurate analogy if I felt there was one

Bitch, there is. I can’t name one off the top of my head because reading this makes me feel like my brain is melting out of my ears, but I’m 100% sure there is a better analogy. Even though this feels more like a simile.

but so many of them seemed incredibly unaware of themselves, just living life as if it were some generic predefined routine.

Oh, and you’re so much better obviously, you pretentious bastard.

Sometimes I felt like an alien who had a VIP pass to submerge myself in primitive human culture just for entertainment.

Congratulations, that’s also what you sound like.

I sense everything I can take in around me. The seemingly limitless audible tones, tremors in the voices of growing children rang in my ears. In studying people, I found myself gradually learning to literally feel the various personality types I encountered.

Do you... Do you have psychic powers?

If not, shut your damn mouth.

I hyper analyzed every inconsistent smell, the seemingly random clothing styles, freckles, and assorted hairstyles filled my mind with questions. Trying to rationalize and understand what sequence of events led them to decide who they would become.

You are the most pretentious protagonist I have ever read. I’m half a chapter in and I already fucking hate you.

This character is so poorly written and immediately unlikable. i cannot relate to him at all and if someone does, I suggest you go get some help because how this asshole is behaving doesn’t sound human.

I took favor of categorizing most everyone around me. The socially inept know-it-all, the dumb attention-seeking drama kid

On behalf of all drama kids, go fuck yourself.

and the bleach blonde bimbo who gets overly defensive at the slightest hint of criticism.

Do you mean you?

Onion obviously didn’t let anyone edit this garbage.

Then there were the kids who just hoped no one noticed them at all. There was so much to be seen, to be considered and organized in my mind.

Mhm.

I don’t care.

Class had just ended so I walked over to Mr. Hanson's' desk &

And*

placed the tardy note down in passing. As I walked out with the rest of my class, he called after me. "James! We still need to talk!" I responded but continued to walk outside the room. "I have to be early to my next class! Let's talk tomorrow!"

You’re an asshole.

And I hate you.

I walked quickly down the hall towards my art class, which was awkwardly placed in a trailer outside my clearly poorly funded high school.

Um.

Okay.

On my way to the class a fight had already broken out between two jocks who, no doubt, both had controlling, iron-fisted fathers who brainwashed them into believing conflicts between men are best resolved with the bloodying of their fists.

That’s a bold thing to assume, dear Onion.

These kinds of men plagued my mind with wonder. I could not conceive a scenario in which they could justify their primitive & pointless mentalities yet they would always continue to perpetuate their self-destructive attitudes as if it offered the slightest legitimate benefit.

Oh, shut your pretentious mouth.

Most everyone nearby crowded around the fight. None of them likely cared who was winning, what it was about or how far it went. All they ever seemed to show concern for was their own amusement, always excited to see violence without having to pull out their wallets to pay for it.

Are you joking?

Where are the teachers?

This is complete bullshit.

This is high school, not a fucking fight club.

Does Onion even try to make this believable? Or is he just vomiting all over his keyboard and just accepting whatever nonsense that makes?

As the sounds of flesh collided fist to cheek & chest quickly followed the howls from the surrounding students. They would scream "Oooohhhh!" as if it were sincerely delightful to witness creatures like themselves suffer & fall apart before their eyes.

The use of ampersands is making me lose my goddamn mind.

Even if I had time to stop, I never really took pleasure in seeing strangers hurt each other. Most all fights seemed avoidable and were often initiated for a senseless reason.

Go choke on air. This protagonist annoys me more than any protagonist has. I’m not joking. Fuck this dickwad.

I know, you could say it's more complicated than that, I would like to think it were as well, but reality trumps the way I wish things would be. There's no sense in fighting it when doing so rarely helps anyone.

While this is true, this is worded in a way that’s so pretentious it’s painful and also in a way that paints this protagonist in such a white knight-y way that it makes me want to die.

As I approached my next class the image of Abbi's face illuminated the neon walls of my mind like a projector teasing a theatre screen with fleeting moments of depth & purpose.

That is complete and utter word salad. Stop immediately.

Ever since I met her, she had occupied a part of my consciousness; whenever I wasn't near her I missed her to an unrealistic extent. You could call my longing sad especially considering we had barely talked; she just had a strange effect on me, one no doubt similar to a willful addiction.

That’s called a crush, but the way that was just described is so creepy.

There are people in life which we pass by on a daily basis, barely aware of their existence, but on an exceptionally rare occasion you can find a person who fills an area inside your little world you didn't even realize needed filling.

While that’s technically not untrue, it feels like a lizard person is trying to tell me what having a crush on someone is like.

As I walked up the creaking stairs into my art class trailer I could see Abbi was sitting at her shared-desk, alone, same makeup, hairstyle & general appearance I had thought about repeatedly over the last couple days. She was drawing pictures on her blue-lined paper, distracting herself from the cold that filled the oddly glowing room.

This... This imagery is so fucking weird.

I smiled slightly trying not to be too obvious and sat down on my chilled metal chair positioned a few seats to the left in front of her. Glancing over, I could see she hadn't moved at all, I felt like she didn't even notice me come in.

You aren’t the center of her world, so yeah, she’s focused on something else. That’s just how it is, asshat.

I wanted to inspire some acknowledgment of my existence from Abbi so I opened my mouth to greet her when my fingers brushed up against freshly smeared gum under my desk. "Eeew!" I shouted out on impulse. She looked up at me with a blank expression.

I’ve accidentally touched gum on the bottom of my desk before, as I can imagine everyone has, but I’ve never shouted about it like a lunatic.

Bursting into the room came a group of boys. "Dude I think John's done bro!" one of the other boys laughed, saying "Won't see them for a week at least."

Nobody talks like this. Have you ever spoke to another human?

I looked back at Abbi to see she also didn't react to their outburst. Strangely knowing that her apathy was generalized and impersonal gave me comfort.

There needs to be a comma after ‘strangely,’ but whatever.

Her influence on how I felt was obviously dangerous but I didn't care as no matter how fond I was of the idea that I was not of the world, I knew my place and had no real interest in pretending otherwise.

Explain to me how in the hell that’s dangerous.

Jason, one of the boys energetically praising the fight they had just seen, sat in his seat next to Abbi. I smirked watching her shoulders shift away from him. Her body language sent a loud message that she had the same impression of Jason as I did. He was just another moron, placed on this Earth to live his life completely unexamined,

That word is not used properly in that sentence.

a pawn that had no awareness of its own role let alone that it was just another tiny component within a massive unstoppably twisted game.

Shut your pretentious mouth because that doesn’t make any goddamn fucking sense.

I know it sounds morbid and condescending but my attitude was just something that naturally developed the more I studied human behavior.

Bullshit.

I would be more optimistic but I find doing so would be like walking into a room with no windows and turning out the light. If you refuse to see the world around you for what it is you're just wasting your eyes.

Being optimistic means looking on the good side of things. You’ve heard the glass half empty or half full thing. it’s that. And as someone who jumps between optimism and pessimism, being optimistic isn’t like this at all.

Don’t try to be poetic or funny, Onion. Those are two things that you aren’t.

Art class was about to begin. My teacher, Mrs. Stanley, who looked like she should have retired a ridiculous thirty years ago, approached the front of the room talking about how art is sacred. She also discussed the random object she had us all draw the previous school day and ironically graded it by using her own narrow-minded definition of art.

That isn’t ironic.

I always wondered how teachers could even attempt objectively grading art. Is there any logic behind validating a form of self-expression using a cold black and white mathematical system?

It’s a class where you have to follow the curricula. Shut your damn mouth.

And this is coming from someone who hated her art teacher. But this art teacher was so utterly closed minded that she didn’t accept anyone else’s creative process. She basically told us that if we didn’t follow her process, we weren’t real artists.

"Today I'm going to place you with partners" Mrs. Stanley said as she pulled out sheets of paper outlining our activities to come. "To keep this simple, I'm going to partner you with the person you are currently assigned to share a desk with" she said. I sighed knowing I was bound to be paired up with Alex, a guy I had specifically asked to be seated away from ever since he peed in a jar literally right next to me under our desk, acting like he was so cool for publicly exposing himself while simultaneously urinating.

That... He expected to be treated like he was cool for this?

That’s fucking disgusting.

It happened weeks ago and I still can't figure out what kind of crazy it takes for you to, in the presence of people you barely know but have to see nearly on a daily basis, pee in a jar held in your hand just beneath your desk in the middle of a classroom.

At first when I read this, I thought that the wayit was worded made it sound like Alex forced James to hold the jar while he peed in it, but okay, whatever.

What then? You show it off like you will be praised and accepted as if it were an accomplishment? Alex, despite being borderline mental, was one of my least favorite people to study.

It is actually physically exhausting to read this shit. James is a pretentious asshole.

I couldn't help but feel there was some defect in his mind that invalidated the point of conducting a thorough analysis of him.

This just makes it seem like James has mind reading powers.

He was completely irrelevant when considering the realities of normal human behavior.

Behavior you don’t act according to, you lizard person sociopath.

As I was off on a tangent in my own mind I heard a familiar voice ring out, one that inspired the very same emotion you experience when a song you had forgotten you loved, randomly plays in the background of your daily life. "Can I be paired up with James?" her voice was just as I remembered.

Is this Abbi?

I have a friend who spells her name like this, so I really hate that there’s a character in this shitty book who shares a name with her.

Despite her having not spoken in class in some time, she hadn't changed a note. Abbi had interrupted the teacher just to partner with me, but I asked myself if was it really just to work with me or just to get away from Jason.

Um. Okay.

The teacher, looking irritated but understanding Abbi's discomfort with Jason responded "Alex and Jason, you'll be partners. James, switch seats with Jason" "Thank you!" Abbi said with a slight smile. With a cocky grin Jason stood up and in a comedic fashion smelled his armpit. "Wow, I didn't know I smelled that bad" Jason said as he walked over to sit by Alex.

That isn’t funny and Onion boy isn’t funny.

Approaching Abbi was no doubt a way scarier act in my mind than it was to everyone around me, I felt like my head was burning from the inside out.

That’s a little extreme.

Nevertheless I continued to remind myself that her public outcry to partner with me could have meant nothing. I sat down next to her and did all I could not to turn into a complete dork on her. She reached out and grabbed the project outline that was being passed out. Mrs. Stanley began to read the description of the assignment. "Today you will both be taking something meaningful, but expendable, from your own homes."

If something is meaningful it isn’t expendable. Stop.

Mrs. Stanley looked up and emphasized, "That you own!" then looked back down at her paper. "You will tear those items apart here in class. You will then take those items and, using the adhesives, staples and the strings available in class, find a way to create something new out of those possessions."

That’s actually kind of an interesting idea. But like. Maybe with a cup? I don’t wanna rip apart something I care about.

She looked up and said in a low voice sounding somewhat like Dracula "Two, will become one."

That is unnecessarily creepy. It reads like an innuendo.

Also, what in fresh hell does Dracula’s voice sound like?

Did she say it with a Transylvanian accent? I’m confused.

Jason raised his hand objecting, "All due respect Mrs. Stanley I'm not breaking something of mine for this class."

Jason has the right idea.

She replied putting her hands on her hips, "That's fine Jason. We'll supply you with a toilet paper rolls, we have plenty of extras around here." Jason suddenly looked disturbed and sarcastically spouted "Freaking great!"

Why???

That’s better than ripping apart a t-shirt.

Mrs. Stanley asked, "Are you sure? Your grade shouldn't suffer that much if you two just take Alex's piss jar and tape it to a toilet paper roll. You're already failing this class."

What in the literal fuck?!

You cannot say that to students. No, you can’t say that to anyone.

Jason couldn't believe what she had just said

Same.

and Alex maintained an awkward frozen facial expression with his mouth slightly open in his normal weirdo somewhat robotic fashion.

"Oh my god" Abbi whispered under her breath with a slight smirk. I grinned uncontrollably; just seeing her amused was amazing to me.

That wasn’t really funny, it was just shocking.

I could hear a scream in the back of my mind reminding me my dorkiness and borderline obsession was escaping through my face.

It's not that I couldn't help being in awe of Abbi and basically every little thing she did, I simply didn't want to change how I felt. In a way, she was like your favorite song or book, you could pretend not to like it and in time with the right mental coaching maybe you would sincerely dislike it, but life just felt so much better embracing your condition entirely, letting all your nerdy admiration flow freely.

This just reads like an obsession. I don’t have the energy to actually express how romantic feelings actually feel, but this is terrifying.

Mrs. Stanley continued, "If there's anyone else who has an issue, please take it up with my 1800 number which is?" She put her hand up to the air signaling the students to react but only a couple kids replied aloud with her catch phrase. "1-800-BOO-HOOO" they mumbled.

Sweet Jesus.

So this is what it feels like to lose my mind.

She continued, "Good, now for the rest of class please work with your partner on what you plan to bring and draw up a prototype sketch of what you feel your final piece of art will look like." Mrs. Stanley walked to the back of her room and sat down at her 1950's looking rust-infested desk.

Is this school just a giant health code violation? And what the hell do you mean by ‘1950′s desk?’ All I got when I googled that were pictures of wooden desks.

I would always laugh internally when I looked at the old thing. Maybe it was my way of coping with the fact I attended one of the most run down schools in the state.

I have nothing that isn’t full of curse words and fact checking to say here.

"What are you going to bring James?" Abbi asked.

This sentence is put so Abbi looks like she’s asking if James is going to bring himself without the comma after the word ‘bring.’ Did Onion really not edit his book at all? These are simple and fixable grammatical mistakes.

It was amazing hearing my name pass her lips but I had no time to think, if I didn't respond right away she would think I was totally awkward. "I... have no idea..." I responded. Smiling she said, "I'm going to bring my hamster cage", I asked, "Did he die or something?" she laughed, "No, I never got one, the cage was just a gift from my dad."

But you’re supposed to cut it up.

Hamster cages are made of metal.

Does Abbi just have superhuman strength? Is she going to bring a pair of bolt cutters?

"Your dad didn't get you a hamster... for the cage?" I asked.

My question exactly.

Sometimes you just...

You just gotta give your daughter a hamster cage but no hamster.

She paused and started to lose her smile.

Oh fabulous, she’s one of those characters.

At the first sign of her smile fading I felt a crushing pressure in my chest. "Hopefully you can find something that will work with that," she said. I couldn't help but feel like a total jerk despite not even knowing what I did wrong.

That interaction was so... Weird? Robotic? i don’t know. Something felt wrong about it.

I had the overwhelming urge to fix how she felt so I took a gamble, "Well, I could always bring that weird vibrating thing my mom hides in her drawers all wrapped up in a cloth" I said.

What is wrong with you?

I cannot fathom what made Onion think this joke was funny.

She busted out laughing hysterically as a huge grinned filled my face. I was so happy I could get her to smile again. "Eeew! James!" she continued to laugh as the extent of my grin began to stress my cheeks. I couldn't remember a time when I was this obvious about how I felt.

This... Something is wrong with just... all the dialogue.

And with the formatting. You make a new paragraph when someone starts talking. A 34 year old man should know this. He writes like me when I first started writing, and while this probably means he just started writing, I was 11 years old when I wrote like this.

He is a 34 year old adult. There is no excuse for how bad this formatting and how generally terribly written these interactions are.

Abbi's laughing trailed off and she paused. Turning to me she said, "You... you didn't actu- ally... your moms?"

*Pained groaning.*

I responded, "No, I wouldn't know about that, but I'm glad it made you laugh." She responded, returning to a soft laugh "You're more goofy than I thought James." I sat next to her looking at my fingers interlaced in front of me; my wide smile relaxed but still filled my cheeks with warmth.

This entire chapter, everything here, is so awkwardly written.

As class came to a close Abbi patted me on my arm. I turned and she handed me a note. Instinctively I put it in my pocket and said "See ya tomorrow", she just smiled and walked away.

????

On my way to my next class, I opened the note. I didn't understand why, but it read "NISEONE."

Not knowing what to make of it and with little time, I stuffed it back in my pocket to look over later.

Yeah, that’s cryptic as hell.

Not feeling like skating home,

Oh, we’re really getting into edgy 2000′s shit now.

I got on the bus to see all the normal rejects and misfits waiting. Davis, a short and scrawny kid who had been my best friend since middle school despite being one grade behind me excitedly waved me over.

Oh, good, more terrible characters.

"James! Nice to seeeee you!"

Oh, this bitch needs to die.

he said in seemingly the dorkiest way possible. I smiled as he stood up giving me the window seat, knowing very well by then that I preferred it.

Um. Okay.

As I sat down I began looking out the window, analyzing the little humans running left and right to get on their busses.

Buses*

And I am going to eventually kick your ass for this pretentious bullshit.

Something reached out and caught the corner of my eye. I immediately shifted my head to see what it was and quickly realized it was Abbi standing in the parking lot by some beat-up sedan.

"What'cha looking at James?" Davis asked. Without hesitation I began to respond, "Oh, it's Abbi, she's in my art..." my heart sank as I witnessed a boy I barely knew, named Seth, walk up and kiss Abbi on the lips.

Oh, boo fucking hoo. Get over the fact that she has a life outside of your crush on her.

"James?" Davis said, but by that point his voice was a faint echo in the darkness my mind instantaneously lost itself in. I felt like after a life of numbness I was finally about to truly feel warmth for the first time only to have it all taken away in an instant, leaving me hopeless in the shadows, alone once again.

Cry me a goddamn river.

You angsty pretentious idiot.

Don’t give me angsty word salad about how sad this makes you, I don’t actually care at all.

I looked down at my knees feeling as if I lost all muscle control in my neck.

That isn’t a thing that happens ever when someone is upset.

"Are... you ok?" Davis asked. I responded with hesitation "...I'm... just stupid."

You spoke to her once, you fucking dumbass.

"No you're not. You're one of the coolest guys I know!" Davis replied. I continued my silence as he offered words of encouragement. "Okie dokie, well, you're awesome and should be super happy so if you want to talk, I'm your buddy so... so I'm here to talk."

That’s uh, nice of him.

But the way he’s talking sounds like... almost mechanical? All he’s done since he was introduced has been compliment James.

I was too focused on the con- flict raging in my mind to hear anyone at that point. I couldn't think about anything but Seth kissing Abbi the entire trip home.

Oh, get the fuck over it.

That night my mom was literally just serving lentil beans she prepared on her crock-pot for the billionth time, a fair exaggeration but still, it was excessive to say the least. My sister was behaving as she usually did at the dinner table, talking about how stupid she thought school was and how she couldn't wait for college. "How was work mom?"

I mean, I’m also tired of high school. I’m really done with judge-y teenagers.

I asked trying to keep my mind off the haunting images looping in my mind.

YOU HAVE HAD ONE FUCKING CONVERSATION WITH HER. CRY ME A FUCKING RIVER, YOU BITCH.

Any normal person would express disappointment over the fact that a person they like has a boyfriend or girlfriend or partner in general, not go into a damn depression about it.

"Well, no one at work respects me or listens to me and I generally can't stand it, but you know, we still have food on the table" she said in a stern tone.

That

That is weirdly passive aggressive and mechanical.

My sister barked as food flew out of her mouth, "Well at least it's not high school. I'm learning how to be a successful person from a bunch of low-income losers."

Oh, I guess bitching runs in the family.

My mom replied "Whatever your teachers are, they have full-time jobs, which is more than a lot of people can say." My mom gave my sister Lisa a disap- pointed look. Lisa was well known for showing little respect for hard-working people. To her it didn't matter how much you gave back to society, it only mattered how much money you made.

That’s a very black and white way to look at things.

After the rerun of lentil soup I washed the dishes per my mom's orders and headed to the shower. I sat on the floor of the tub thinking about Abbi, barely feeling the water as it hit my chest.

Sat on the floor... while water hits your chest? Are you like sitting with your back arched so the water can hit your chest?

This imagery is so odd.

I was so consumed with what I had seen that I had completely forgotten the note until that moment. I quickly reached over to my pants resting on the toilette.

Why the fuck did you spell toilet like that?

That’s literally the word for ‘toilet’ but in French. It isn’t a spelling used in English. It just makes you sound even more pretentious.

Also, he reached over to the toilet to grab the note from his pants while he’s in the shower?

It’s gonna get wet, you idiot.

I had hoped I read it wrong the first time and that it would make sense with a second look only to see it read exactly what I gathered in my initial passing glance. "NISEONE"

I fucking hate you, Onion.

This literally looks like you scrambled your screen name up.

Die.

In a fire.

I mumbled to myself. I joked with the idea in my head that she handed me the wrong note but still assumed it wasn't a failed attempt to say "Nice one," which could be taken as a compliment if you were desperate enough.

That joke, while just a little funnier, is still fucking lame.

Seconds into looking at the note my eyes widened, having figured out what it meant, I jumped up slipping to my feet and screamed "YEAH!!!" I had cracked it, only to immediately after feel completely stupid for not having figured it out sooner.

I’m just done functioning.

My mom screamed through the door from her bedroom "WHAT?" I responded "Sorry! Nothing!" I hurried to finish showering.

I’d just assume he got really into jerking off.

I’ll see myself out.

Staring at my phone wearing only a towel, I smiled as I typed in "NISEONE" or "647-3663" into the number keys.

That is the most cryptic and strange way to give someone your phone number.

I assumed we shared the same area code otherwise she likely would have given me a longer sequence of letters and I was right. After two rings I got an answer. "What do you want?" a disgruntled man's voice asked.

This... This girl gave this guy a home phone number?

I guess that’s fine since this is probably set in the early 2000′s, but it’s still odd.

Like a bad engine struggling to start in a monster movie I clumsily belted out a response "I... uh... I was looking for..." An unenthusiastic female voice in the background said, "Give me the phone." "Whatever" he said dropping phone in front of her.

James can apparently see through the phone, or he wouldn’t know that probably Abbi’s dad did this.

"Hello?" I could recognize the voice now it was Abbi.

Trying to hide my excitement by maintaining a normal tone I said, "This is James." Abbi excitedly screamed

Like how girls screamed in Disney Channel shows?

That’s ridiculous.

and responded "Oh my god you figured it out!" Hearing her optimistic tone I laughed saying, "So... why..." She interrupted. "I was hoping to find out if you figured out what you're bringing to art class."

Why the hell didn’t you just fucking ask? Or give him your regular phone number? This is just unnecessarily complicated.

I said "Oh!" and looked quickly around my room. I couldn't see anything immediately so I just said, "I'll... surprise you!" She then replied "Oh come on, tell me." My eyes locked on to a plausible item for the project. "How about my... bear... I'll bring my bear!"

You’re okay with destroying a teddy bear? Okay, I guess.

I said. She replied "Oh, ok, oh! I have an idea. Instead of the cage, I'll bring in a stuffed animal of mine and we'll make like, a zombie bear."

Sounds fine.

I don’t care.

You guys are fucking boring.

I laughed "Awesome" I said. "Ok, I'll see you tomorrow ok?" she replied happily. I answered "Ok, byeee."

I would appreciate it if you would fuck off.

I can’t believe this shit is on GoodReads.

Just before she hung up I could still hear her laughing, leaving me with a sense of accomplishment and a lasting smile as if it were painted across my face.

That’s the end of chapter one?

Oh god, okay.

That was.

Terrible.

The characters are bland and flavorless and I cannot get attached to any of them. I can already tell I’m going to completely despise this.

I’ll see you next time. I need to go think about my life.

~Kat

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dyscrasia-eucrasia · 4 years

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Part 8

<<Prev | Next>>

Demie stared at the phone in his hand for a minute, utterly bewildered. The mentions of the Goatman had made him angry, but he hadn't expected Angel to just hang up on him, for a couple of reasons.

First, if Angel had actually suspected him of being the Goatman, he would've thought Angel would ask more questions. He'd never actually talked to any of the cryptozoologists that came poking around the woods, but from what he could tell about them, they didn't give up easily.

Second, even though he'd only known Angel for a few days, he could tell that Angel was talkative, and very interested in what Demie had to say. It didn't seem like him to just suddenly hang up.

Which left Demie wondering if he'd said something wrong. He knew he didn't have the best of social graces - he could blame it on the isolation he'd grown up in, but Marius didn't have any problem with being social, so that couldn't be it - but he thought he'd been doing well with talking to Angel. He was angry, and a little nervous about being exposed as non-human, but not so much that he wanted to stop talking to Angel. But maybe he had sounded too angry? He couldn't tell - the only person he talked to on a regular basis was Elaine, and she was a complete asshole, so maybe she'd rubbed off on him.

That was about as far as he got in that thought when Elaine started shouting for him.

"DEMIE!" She called from her room on the other side of the trailer.

"WHAT?" He shouted back.

"DEMIE!"

"FUCKING WHAT!?"

"COME HERE, JACKASS."

He frowned. There she went, being an asshole. She could just tell him what she wanted, but no, she had to make him come to her. He got up off his couch, grumbling, and ambled out of his room and across the living room.

"HURRY UP!" She yelled as she spotted him through her open door. She was sitting at her desk, in front of her computer. It and the TV in the living room were the most modern pieces of technology in the trailer, and even they were a few years out of date.

"What?" He asked, stopping at the threshold of her room. He never went in there. There wasn't a rule against it or anything, he just didn't like going in there. She had a ton of anime posters all over the wall, and they gave him the heebie-jeebies. Something about the big glossy eyes were just so creepy and alien.

"Come over here, there's something you need to watch."

"What is it?"

"Just get your ass over here!"

Demie grumbled again, but walked over to the desk. As he did, Elaine got up from her chair and patted it. Demie took a seat.

"Ugh, gross, it's all warm," he said.

"Oh, I'm the gross one? You don't fucking wear pants."

"It's not like I don't wash my ass or something," he shot back.

"Shut up and watch this fucking video," she said, leaning over and moving the mouse, clicking play on the Youtube video she had pulled up.

"WHAT'S UP, CLAYKIDS," an athletic white guy in his early 20s with perfectly coiffed hair shouted. "WE'RE IN WEST VIRGINIA, ON PART FIVE OF OUR QUEST FOR CRYPTIIIIIIIIDS!"

"This guy is way too fucking loud," Demie mumbled. Elaine shushed him.

The camera zoomed out of the guy's face to show him standing in some woods. "AND TODAY, WE'RE ON THE HUNT FOR THE GOATMAN!"

A chill crawled up Demie's spine, and his blood went cold. He watched in horrified silence as the man continued to shout about the history of the Goatman and how it was said to shapeshift and terrorize campers.

The camera cut and Demie gripped the arms of the chair. The man - joined by a crew of five other, almost identical white guys - now stood in the middle of a crumbling asphalt road. To either side of them were short brick buildings, only about eight in total. Demie recognized it instantly as Billy Brook, West Virginia - the town about twenty minutes from the trailer.

The video spent a few minutes on the crew ambushing various townspeople, sticking microphones in their faces and asking them about the Goatman.

"Oh yeah, that Goatman, he killed my dog," an old man said.

"Everyone knows you stay out of the woods," said a middle-aged woman.

"Yeah, I heard about the Goatman," a man in his twenties told the camera, "my buddy Mike at the video store has seen him."

"WHOO!" One of the crew hooted, pulling the camera around to get an extreme close-up of himself. "Eye witness, baby!"

Demie shivered. Please don't go to the video store, please don't go to the video store, he thought.

Immediately, the video smash cut to a small, whitewashed building with a hand-painted sign that read: 'Video Store - VHS - DVD - XXX.'

"This video store has been in operation since 1985,' a sleepy-sounding voiceover said. "No movie theaters in town, most people don't have internet, so we stay in business pretty easily."

The video cut to the inside of the store, the camera slowly sweeping over the shelves.

"This place is LIT, fam," one of the crew said. "Yoooo, check it out, this place has porn!" The camera fixed on a shelf in the back of the building, though the covers of the videos had been pixelated out.

"So tell us about the Goatman," the first white guy said, the video cutting to a strung-out young man in flannel with a name tag that read 'Mike' standing behind a counter.

"Oh yeah, the Goatman, he comes in here like once a month," Mike said.

"Does he buy any videos?"

"Oh yeah."

"What kind of videos does the Goatman buy?"

"Uh, y'know, splatter gore horror stuff. Sometimes he gets some musicals. Oh, and a lot of porn."

"What kind of porn does the Goatman buy?" The guy asked, laughing.

"GOAT PORN!" Someone shouted off screen.

"Nah, man, he gets like… big titty blonde chicks."

"What does the Goatman look like?" The main guy asked.

"He's like… seven feet tall, man. He's got like really long hair and a beard, and these big ass curly horns."

"That doesn't sound like any Goatman I've heard of," a different person said from off camera.

"Nah man, he's real. He like, lives out in the woods and shit."

Demie sank into the chair, lifting up his hands and covering his face, though keeping his fingers open to watch the video. "Shit," he murmured.

"I told you going to the video store was a bad idea," Elaine said, words dripping with vitriol.

"Mike is always high out of his fucking mind," Demie said, words muffled by his hands. "I didn't think he'd even remember that I was ever there."

"Keep watching, it gets worse," she said. He moaned in horror. How could it possibly get worse?

The video cut again, this time showing the crew out in the woods. The sun was beginning to set.

"Check it out, no trespassing," one of the crew said, pointing to a piece of sheet metal nailed to a tree. The words had been hand-painted on. Demie sank lower into his chair. He'd made that sign himself.

"Trespassing in the Goatman's woods, yeah boyyyy," another member of the crew said.

"So, where's the Goatman?" Another asked. The main guy tried to shush them, but they kept talking as they stumbled through the woods, jumping and then laughing at every snap of a branch or rustle of leaves.

And then, out of nowhere, a crack of gunfire interrupted their buffoonery. The entire crew became silent. A few moments passed, and another shot could be heard.

"OH SHIT!" The main guy shouted, and the camera work became a dizzying blur as the crew began to run.

They came out of the woods onto a dirt road, where they began to laugh.

"Jesus, we almost got murdered by fuckin' hillbillies!" One of them shouted. The other hummed a few bars of 'Dueling Banjos'.

"Alright, well, that was a bust, but we'll keep looking," the main guy said, grabbing the camera and pointing it in his face. "Be sure to like, comment, smash that subscribe button, and buy our merch, Claykids!"

The video ended and Demie sat there in silence, eyes glued to the computer screen. "We're so fucked," he mumbled.

#writing #writers on tumblr #original characters #original fiction #lgbt fiction #gay fiction #wright's writing #w:demie and angel

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chibivesicle · 4 years

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Golden Kamuy chapters 233 & 234 - creepy candymen and a sexy pirate

Chapter 233 picks up with Asirpa, Sugimoto, Shiraishi [and Vasily] in search of Boutarou the pirate and following up on the lead about a tattooed candy peddler. The cover page for this chapter is unrelated to the action and instead has Sugimoto and Shiraishi admiring the spring wild flowers. Therefore, it is now at least a year since the start of the quest for the gold.

My read on this is it is a call back to “simpler” times in the quest for the gold. Before they found Wilk, before Kiro was killed and all of the action on Karafuto.

The chapter starts out with Sugimoto trying to develop a plan for finding Boutarou as he asks Shiraishi what he knew about him. Shiraishi makes it quite clear that hiding as a candy seller pretty much goes counter to the pirate’s mode of action and likely if there is a convict selling candy, he’s someone that Shiraishi never knew or saw.

Sugimoto as usual thinking he’s a great natural leader decides to investigate the candy sellers with an ill formed plan as usual. He approaches the puppet man with the octopus and flat out tells him, he’ll buy some candy from him but that he needs the man to take his clothes off for him. This plan clearly backfires as the man questions his motive and he becomes more upset as he states that even if Sugimoto just paid him to see his nipples, that he’s not that cheap! Asirpa simply looks perplexed at the man’s response, it seems he may have an actual history of being paid for such acts in the past as he’s making it clear his nipples are worth much more than candy. I’d say this is a hint that these men may be linked to less legal activities. If he were just a candy seller he wouldn’t have stated such things, he would have just likely ignored Sugimoto’s request.

In contrast, Shiraishi is much smater about things as he tosses some water on the other candy seller and makes it clear that he’d have to change out of his wet clothing - something Shiraishi has numerous experiences with.

However, he gets an elbow to the face and the two men decide they are business rivals and they chase them off.

For reasons 100% unclear to me, somehow Shiraishi is hiding in a storm drain/sewer and is able to get more intel as though he were the creepy clown from Stephen King’s “It”. I’m not a fan of King so I really don’t get it . . .

But he is able to ask a kid for information about the candy seller with weird tattoos.

Interestingly, the next time they approach a potential target, Shiraishi takes the lead, as he asks the man if he’d sell him some candy. He shows Shiraishi his creepy pop-up puppet, saying that it would be the candy. Then Shiraishi finally asks him straight up that he’s got some strange tattoos.

The man hesitates before Sugimoto then inquires about them and wanting to see them. He then reveals his face smiling. His eyes are very interesting as well. He’s got black pupil/irises but with a vertical white streak through the center. What on earth does this even mean about his inner personality?

Thanks the the through translation notes at the end of the chapter by EHS scans, it was determined that his tattoos come from all parts of Japan, he has an obvious Ainu tattoo on his chin, but he has some from as far away as Okinawa, and others from various parts of Honshu. To me this indicates that he has traveled far and wide though Japan. Is he fleeing from various places where he was convicted of crimes and tattooed in each location?

Yet, he quickly confirms that he did them all to himself. I honestly think he’s lying but then again, this is GK, he may have done them to himself. Shiraishi is clearly nervous in response to that statement as he has a past history with the system of punishment in Japan.

What’s better is how absolutely disgusted and disappointed Sugimoto is, he can’t even look at the man in the face when he concludes it is a huge waste of their time. The two panels with the man looking quizzical and then shifting to a smile indicates he likely knows that they are looking for.

No one makes a smile like that unless they’ve realized something. What I’m also curious about is what happened to the kid he led off into the woods in the previous chapter. It was like “watch this man do something creepy and then not resolve it.” Thanks Noda.

The man breaks into a fit of laughter when it is so obvious he wasn’t what Sugimoto was looking for. They almost politely leave him and they update us that their river searches haven’t yielded anything. The Toppu river and the Sorachi river haven’t given them any new info so they ponder going to the Saru river. Sugimoto considers changing their search to Sapporo for the current serial killer a good candidate and Shiraishi considers that might be a good idea.

As they are discussing this Asirpa is hanging back, I guess she really doesn’t care about them making plans without her input, but it reveals an interesting aside as she over hears the man talking to himself. That boss Wakayama had a great facial expression when he was disappointed as well. Asirpa then makes the connection that if Wakayama was his boss he was a part of his yakuza gang.

Unfortunately, some train cars with coal roll by separating them. His voice then calls out from a train car as he declares that they will never be able to find the gold. Thus he knew exactly what type of tattoo they are looking for.

Asirpa calls out to Sugimoto to find him, but they are unable to find him in the rail yard near the coal mines. All we know now is that this tattooed candy seller was one of the men working for Boss and that he is more in the know than he appears. I’m sure he will pop up again in the future.

The action then shifts to an Ainu kotan near the Toppu river. Sure enough the pirate is doing his own information gathering following up the leads that Heita found. He is trying to pay off an older Ainu man with rice. He’s already given 3 bales of rice and it is clear than he’s ordering his man to bring another 3 bales.

He is quite direct, he states that he knows that the man knows about the buried gold and that his brother was one of the people involved, specifically he was one of the men who was killed. He is able to confirm that the gold was moved after his older brother was killed and he likely won’t find anything there.

So Boutarou has to grease the wheels so to speak by revealing how much information he knows. He confirms that he’s fine with the fact that the gold likely isn’t there anymore, he still wants to know the location. His assistant seems to doubt talking to the man due to his reluctance.

He’s being quite clever as he has not revealed what he knows about the gold. He is able to ask the man to confirm information that he already knows to give him the next place to start looking for the gold. And of course the Ainu elder confirms what he already knew - the four rivers that the gold came from

With the confirmation he is looking for the place where it was stored so that he could trace where it was moved to and narrow down the location to search.

Overall, Boutarou is an interesting character, we know he has a violent history yet, when it comes to looking for information he is paying for it and being relatively chill about things, he clearly doesn’t have a thing for unnecessary violence.

Chapter 234 has a color cover, featuring Sugimoto and Asirpa, and the name of the chapter is steamboat likely a key to how they will travel to their next destination.

The chapter starts off with Shiraishi again developing a plan for them to get to Sapporo to look for the other possible convict. He suggests they take a steamboat to Ebetsu which is the most efficient way to currently travel. If they continue by horse along the roads it will be muddy and slow due to the thawing out of things. As we know he was in Kabato prison, he also knows that convicts were used for labor to clean up the river.

The idea was that a steamboat/paddle boat can travel on a shallow river much more easily than a propeller driven boat. This leads to a nice 2 page spread of the paddle boat and Asirpa seems happy and excited to be on the boat.

cue some sort of Mark Twain reference here . . . . Asirpa then expresses concern that Vasily; hood guy in the english translation, hoodie-chan via Shiraishi in the original, is hanging back with their horses instead of riding on the main boat. Of course Vasily is still in full sniper mode, he’s keeping an eye on things from afar with his binoculars.

Sugimoto then states he’s likely hanging back as he is waiting for Ogata to show up. Specifically, Ogata is after Asirpa and then he realizes if that is the case, Vasily is using Asirpa as the bait to draw out Ogata.

Wow, just wow. Sugimoto - projecting much? He seems to have forgotten how Vasily already used Shiraishi as bait for Ogata once before when they were in Karafuto and now he’s disgusted by such behavior. Again, he is making the assumption that Ogata will stop at nothing to steal Asirpa when his attempt to get Asirpa to give him the code failed and then Ogata pretty much wanted Asirpa to kill him.

Really, Sugimoto’s read of Ogata is so flawed that well, I don’t get why Asirpa and Shiraishi haven’t said something about what they learned on Karafuto more.

Of course, they don’t have a simple journey as the pirate spend all of his stolen loot on paying off the Ainu man. So he’s going to rob the postal deliveries from the steamboat. There is even a postal deliveryman who is protecting money that is being sent via registered mail, making him an easy target.

The steamboat captain manages to hit one of the boats as he won’t go down without a fight. Of course the pirate has to live up to his name. He swims under the ship, and pops out like a dolphin on the opposite side. To use his revolver, he blows all of the water out of if before cocking it for use as he holds up the ship’s captain.

These panels really highlight that this man is a sexy badass. Of course Shiraishi and Sugimoto have rushed to the deck to check out the action when he recognizes Boutarou and he recognizes Shiraishi! He seems amused and excited to see Shiraishi, and the crew members are wondering what is happening as the captain decides that they must be working with the pirate.

So, definitely a poor choice of action by both Shiraishi and Sugimoto. Thankfully, Asirpa was asleep on their traveling bags so hopefully she is still asleep.

As with this Sugimoto becomes an accidental accomplice to the pirate. As the one man goes to grab his rifle he notices Boutarou prepare to shoot the man. So he realizes he has no choice but to remove the security men from the crew by tossing them off of the boat.

Thus, Sugimoto becomes a tool for the pirate as he saves the men from being shot by tossing them off the boat. In the action as he judo tosses the men over board he drops his rifle. The rifle falls outside of the passenger cabin and how Sugimoto is without the use of his rifle.

Now Sugimoto lacks his rifle and there is no Ogata to scold him. I think back to when Ogata retrieved his rifle for him. This will come into play in the future action as now all Sugimoto has is his loved and trusted bayonet.

Recall that during the silent kotan arc, Sugimoto placed his rifle against the wall of the house while Ogata clearly kept his rifle within reach. When the fake Ainu were exposed, one of the yakuza dove to grab Sugimoto’s rifle and Ogata shot him square in the back.

After shooting him, Ogata quickly is able to grab the rifle and then he feels the need to teach Sugimoto a lesson. As he throws the rifle to him, he warns him, “never take your eyes off your weapon, private first class.” We only see Ogata’s eyes looking at him as the rest of his face is obscured and Sugimoto doesn’t even look back at Ogata as his eyes are shaded by his cap and the rest of his face is shaded. It is clear that Sugimoto doesn’t like the fact that Ogata is right.

Later on when Anehata steals Tanigaki’s rifle, Ogata will remark that he keeps telling people to keep an eye on their rifles. The Ogata lesson is simple - use your brain in potentially dangerous situations. You have a rifle - it doesn’t mean someone else will use your rifle.

Soooo, any predictions for what will happen due to Sugimoto lacking a rifle? With no Ogata, will Vasily step in? We will have to wait for the next chapter to find out. The loss of Sugimoto’s rifle to me is like “cue Ogata” and in the absence of Ogata cue Vasily.

The chapter then ends with Boutarou commending Shiraishi on having such a great underling working for him. Clearly, Boutarou respects Shiraishi and sees him to be a more intelligent than normal convict. I don’t think this is a jest from him, he seems to be honestly impressed.

The excitement of this chapter is about to step it up a notch as the pirate gang notices another steamboat is heading upstream and opposite of them. And that it has soldiers on it! Perhaps members of the 27th under Tsurumi’s command?

I don’t have many deep thoughts on these two chapters.

It is clear that Shiraishi is a better planner than Sugimoto and their group needs someone to kick some sense into Sugimoto.

The candy seller with the face tattoos will come back.

Vasily is not the Ogata replacement and he continues to be treated like an random dude by their group. Sugimoto really doesn’t understand that embracing the enemy of my enemy is a poor idea when you can’t communicate with him. Asirpa is again starting to think about including him in their group but is much more hesitant after Ogata’s meltdown on ice. We still don’t know if she told anyone about that really happened and she really does need to talk about what happened. I would guess Shiraishi knows more about what happened, but Sugimoto still doesn’t take him seriously all the time so it is a moot point.

Hopefully, we will get more interesting action in the next few chapters to see where things are going with the pirate.

#golden kamuy #golden kamuy meta #sugimoto saichi #asirpa #Shiraishi Yoshitake #vasily #boutarou the pirate #boss wakayama

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arabellaflynn · 4 years

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A friend of mine was tolerating my drunken fangirling last weekend, patiently agreeing that yes, it is the cutest thing ever when Stephen Colbert turns around to hit on his off-camera wife every time he fucks up a line in his monologue. And yeah, I keep watching that because he's being comfortingly sane/angry right now, but also because it feels like representation, in a weird sort of way.

Colbert is, in many respects, what a lot of people would think of as the quintessential American: A straight, white, Christian man, married with kids, on a lifelong career path that has earned him substantial material wealth. Left to his own devices, he dresses like the dadliest dad who ever dadded. He's expressed some ambivalence about the knowledge that at least some of his media clout comes from this. On the one hand, he is perhaps not the best person to speak to the lived experience of institutional disadvantage; on the other, there are a lot of straight white Christian men in America who just don't feel the need to listen to anyone who isn't a straight white Christian man in America, and there's a lot he can do to redirect that.

But he's also just generally unconventional. Not just off-the-wall comedy. Like, personally not what you would expect from someone who teaches Sunday school, and looks more and more like Ward Cleaver's goofy little brother with every passing year.

About six months into his Late Show gig, the guests started getting it into their heads that the host could be kissed. I'm a little surprised it took them that long; I'm not at all surprised that it was started by Helen Mirren, always a lady with a fine sense of shenanigans. Sally Field went for it with more gusto the next day. Jeff Daniels managed to be more restrained.

Colbert generally ignores it when he accidentally touches off a tempest in a Twitter feed, but this time he opted to make a few remarks about what he termed "an eventful week for my face". In them, he makes it very clear that he did check in with his wife, and he is Definitely Allowed To Do That. He personally thought everything was fine, and in fact was going to take the opportunity to be smug, because holy shit you guys, Helen Mirren.

I will note that "she's cool with it" here does not appear to be a euphemism for "I fucked up and she forgave me". It means "she says it's fine if I make out with Spider-Man in front of a live studio audience". I expect he did actually double check, because that's what a reasonable adult would do, but I also expect that they hashed this out in the general case like thirty years ago. One, Colbert has been kissing his friends, on the lips or otherwise, for as long as I can find him on video. Sometimes for the sake of a joke, sometimes to make a point, and sometimes because they've just won an Emmy and he feels like it. And two, Mirren got a second kiss at the end of that interview, one that he started. Which seems like a thing he wouldn't have done if he were already afraid he'd be sleeping on the couch that night.

Colbert has not said a word about it since. And no one has asked him.

Another thing nobody ever mentions is how Colbert is one of the few straight male actors whom I've ever seen pull off a transparent closet joke without being derogatory. He's actually done it twice, as long-running gags on two separate series: The "secret gay affair" variant playing opposite Paul Dinello on Strangers With Candy, and the "strangely romantic-looking friendship" one with Jon Stewart on The Colbert Report (spilling over onto The Daily Show, The Late Show, and at this point probably his actual life). There's a lot about the specific writing and general sensibilities of both shows that contributes to that, but much of what sells it is that Colbert looks completely, genuinely comfortable with those performances. I imagine it helped that both times he was working with someone he was close to in real life, but also he just seems to be fine with sharing personal space in a way that straight men are typically not.

Colbert can get pretty grabby-hands with his favorite people off stage, too. He's shared various snapshots from Second City over the years. There's a bunch in some the "Stephen Has A Story" segments from LSSC. If there's another human being in the photo with him, he's probably trying to cuddle them. It's continued through the decades. I'm pretty sure when he does a bit with Jon Stewart the stage crew just puts down one spike for the both of them. They made it maybe a year, year and a half into doing The Daily Show together before they were poking at each other and stealing props right out of the other one's bin behind the desk. Colbert is so un-self-conscious about it that most people treat it as invisible.

I couldn't say for sure when he decided that he was free to loll all over people he liked, but my bet is probably at Second City, where he credits Dinello and Amy Sedaris with breaking him of an unfortunate tendency to take himself, and everything else, way too seriously. I don't know what he was like prior, because touring with Second City is essentially when his public career started. Nothing before that is really any of my business; hunting anything down would make me feel damned creepy.

And, again, nobody has ever asked him. He does seem to be aware that he is not always adhering to social expectation here, but also that if he acts casual, everyone else will just assume it's not really a thing. On the odd occasion when Colbert does feel like making a point about other men not having cooties, he has to bring it up himself.

None of the above is beyond-the-pale weird, but it's the kind of thing that you wouldn't normally guess of a devoutly-religious middle-aged straight dude. A lot of it is stuff that men are still under a lot of pressure not to do, like show feelings that aren't pride or rage, or be physically affectionate with people who aren't your partner/children. It's more suggestive of someone who believes that the relationships in your life -- with your friends, your family, your society, and even your God -- are very much what you say they are, and not what other people say they should be.

The greatest significance of this, I think, is not necessarily that he's been behaving this way for as long as he's been a public performer, or even that he's behaving this way at this particular point in human history. It's that he's behaving this way at this particular point in his life.

Colbert is in his mid~late 50s. From the point of view of someone in their late teens to early twenties, still trying to figure out how the fuck humans are supposed to work, he's the Old Guy. Stuff the Old Guy does isn't radical innovation. It's the boring standard. And the boring standard that Colbert is setting is that negotiating something that works and makes you happy is more important than being "normal" or "respectable". You communicate with your spouse like you're both functional adults. You tell the people you love that you love them and don't think twice about who can hear you.

These are things I've been ranting about for most of my life. People don't do them enough. Judging from the advice columns of the world, emotional negotiation is a skill very few people have bothered to develop. I do kind of wish someone would ask Colbert about it directly, because I'm curious, and talking about it is always beneficial, but that's secondary. I really just like seeing someone else demonstrate it in public.

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fooled-around-and-fell · 5 years

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The Spy (1)

Summary: Steve is taking a break, he’s having a nice small vacation by himself and runs into a unique person, who has their own secrets.

Genre: romance, fluff, angst

Pairing: ? ? ?

(gif is not mine)

Steve hadn’t felt so free in his life. Well, he’s not really free, but at least he has the next few weeks to himself. He hid himself in a small town, there were less people but enough crowd.

He’s been in this town for three days now, he stayed at a local motel, a place decent enough to live in and lay low. He’s still having trouble sleeping most of the time, casually going on a stroll late at night, having a nice conversation with the old man next door - who must be a good twenty years younger than him, he talked about his father who went to the second world war a lot. He cried sometimes, reminiscing the day he came home from school to find two officers on his front door, his mother on the ground crying her eyes out.

Steve could only listen. He too, lost his loved ones in the world war. His best friend, his best girl...his life ended when he crashed himself in that ice, and now...he’s not sure how to fit in anymore. Of course he had friends, the Avengers, Bucky, and perhaps many other super people, but he kept asking himself;

When will it all end?

Steve looked at the peculiar building in front of him, then back at his sketchbook. Four days in and his sketchbook was almost full. He just couldn’t stop drawing. He drew buildings, flowers, kids playing, anything he could find. And he was getting bored of drawing the same things all over again. Steve sighed and dropped his pencil.

“Ran out of things to draw?” Eileen chuckled, pouring him another cup of coffee.

“It’s getting too easy.” Steve said smugly. “Thanks for the coffee, Eileen.”

Eileen snorted, “how about you go to the carnival? They’re opening tomorrow.”

“Carnival?” Steve frowned, “Where is it?”

“Just by the square,” She pointed across the street, “But there are going to be a lot of people there.”

Steve gave her a light smile. Eileen was a woman in her forties, she owned the local diner that everyone knows and goes to every Sunday after church. And Steve trusted her because he thought she was the only person who knew he was Captain America. How naive.

After finishing his coffee, Steve collected his things and went back to the motel, greeting some of the people who passed by, played with a few kids who passed him a baseball. He could imagine himself staying here for the rest of his life, enjoying the fresh wind and the beautiful sunset.

But as the sun sets and the night falls, he soon realized that staying wasn’t an option. One day or the other, the world was going to need him. He couldn’t stay.

Just as Steve was about to turn right, he saw the Carnival being set up. There was a Ferris Wheel, a big red and white striped tent, various stands - it was as if he was back in the 40s. Smiling at the thought, he might actually go tomorrow.

The Carnival was crowded, just as the Eileen said it would be. Steve came to the Carnival at around 12 PM, and everyone was crowding the place. Kids were running around chasing each other, old couples were sitting on the benches, as they ate their lunch, couples were playing the dart game to win their loved ones a prize - something he wished to have since long ago.

Steve sat on an empty bench. He bought a weird looking fried potato earlier and after eating, he took his sketchbook out. Eileen was right, there were a lot of things he could draw here. Steve usually drew people without their faces, because it would seem so creepy and weird to draw someone without consent so he left them blank.

As he was drawing this kid who was playing a kite, he suddenly remembered the times he had spent with Bucky before the war. They were both just kids trying to get by, reach their dreams to be in the army. And somehow they did achieve that dream, but it also brought them suffering. Steve no longer recognized the little kid from Brooklyn - he couldn’t go back to who he was even if he tried, and Bucky... he wasn’t the same. Steve didn’t blame him of course, war changes people whether you like it or not.

When Steve looked up to get another look at the kid, he was gone. Steve was halfway finished with his drawing and looked left and right for the kid with the kite, and he found him. He found the kid right next to him, looking at his drawing with a pout on his face.

“Uh...hi.” Steve didn’t know what to say.

“Mommy always said it’s bad to take a picture without permission..” The little boy sulked, “But I don’t know if this counts..” He motioned at the unfinished drawing of himself in the striped tee, navy hat and dark shorts, and his now missing kite.

Steve quirked an awkward smile. “How about I’ll give it to you when I’m finished?”

The boy shrugged and sat next to Steve.

Steve noticed the kid’s sulking face and his missing kite. “So why aren’t you playing the kite anymore?”

“It’s gone. I’m waiting for my auntie to pick me up.. She’s probably going to get mad.” He sulked even more.

Feeling sorry for the poor kid, Steve put away his book in his pocket and stood up, “why don’t we go look for it then? I’m sure it didn’t fly away very far and maybe we’ll run into your aunt too.”

Seeing Steve’s kind smile and determination, the kid gave a firm nod and stormed along with Steve’s big steps, determined to find his kite.

But of course the kite was never found, and they ended up playing and exploring the Carnival. Steve won the little boy a toy train named Thomas, bought him a cotton candy and himself an ice cream.

“Andrew!!”

They both suddenly heard a shrill cry coming towards them. It was a woman who looked very angry and worried at the same time, and Steve just remembered the kid was supposed to wait for his aunt. Was she his aunt?

“I told you to wait for me, remember? Where have you been? I’ve been so worried.”

The little boy, Andrew, looked down with a pout as he stopped playing with his toy as he mumbled. “Sorry, Y/N..”

Steve cleared his throat, “uh, sorry, miss. I was with your nephew. We were looking for his lost kite a while ago and lost track of time. I should’ve noticed, I’m sorry.”

Y/N looked at Steve and she nodded. “It’s fine, he’s okay so you don’t need to apologize. Thank you for accompanying him, uh..”

“S- Mike. My name’s Mike.” Steve lied and bit his tongue.

Y/N smiled, “thank you, Mike. I’m Y/N, nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

“Well I’m sorry, but we have to get going now..” Y/N offered Andrew a hand and he took it, “I’ll see you around...Mike.”

The moment Y/N saw Steve, she immediately knew who he was. How could she not? He’s Captain America. She bet the entire town knew who he was too, but they just didn’t care. But this made her aware. Captain America is in her town, what could this possibly mean?

Did SHIELD put him up for this? Were they trying to get to her?

No, impossible. She’s been careful all her life, nobody knew about her except her sister. Y/N chewed on her lip as thoughts of panic ran through her head.

Her phone suddenly rang - it was her sister.

“Rebecca,” Y/N’s voice was filled with worry, “Where are you?”

“Eileen’s.” She said, “You won’t believe who’s here.”

“I know who’s in this town, Becca, but why? How? Is he here for me? Did they find out-”

“Hey, calm down. That’s not possible. I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.”

“We thought so too last time.” Y/N sighed, “...But you’re right. I’m probably just overthinking this, sorry.”

Rebecca chuckled, “It’s fine. But I called just in case, okay?”

“Okay.” Y/N answered, “And just in case anything happens, it’s probably best if I don’t babysit Andrew for a while.”

“...You’re not gonna-”

“I won’t, I promise.” Y/N assured her, “I won’t run anymore.”

“Good.” Rebecca sighed on the other line, “Okay, I gotta go. Love you, sis.”

“Okay, love you too. Take care.” Y/N hung up and covered her face with her hands.

Y/N wasn’t a normal person. She didn’t have the white-picket-fence life when growing up, unlike her sister. Her sister wasn’t even her sister until 5 years ago, when Y/N just came to town and met Rebecca. Rebecca was the first person to know Y/N’s history and she decided to take her in as if Y/N was her adopted sister.

For 5 years Y/N’s been living in this small town, she’s only encountered danger once. That was 4 years ago, when Russian spies found her location and tried to kill her and her loved ones. She tried to run away, she thought it would be easier if she disappeared, but Rebecca begged her to stay. Y/N was the closest she ever had to family, being an orphan as well, and Rebecca was Y/N’s. So she decided to stay.

Sighing again, Y/N grabbed her jacket and decided to take a walk. She needed the fresh air, and she needed to know just what Captain America was trying to do.

It’s been a while since Steve saw that Y/N. Ever since their encounter in the carnival, Steve’s been trying to search for her. Not like he’s stalking her or anything, he just wanted to ask her out. She was beautiful, had a great smile, and he’s on vacation! Asking a girl out wouldn’t hurt, right?

Though it’s a shame that his vacation was ending today. Something came up in Wakanda and T’Challa needed help. He’s back at Eileen’s again, this time with a stack of pancakes and ice coffee for the hot day.

“Looks like someone is having their cheat day.” Eileen commented.

Steve chuckled, “it’s my last meal here. I gotta go back to Wa- Washington. Got some paperwork piled up, you know. Haha.”

“I thought you’re from New York?” Eileen raised an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah, yeah. I just uh...have another office in Washington.” Steve smiled nervously.

Eileen nodded awkwardly, “Uh-huh. Well, none of my business. Enjoy your last meal, Mike. I’ll get you free coffee for the road and some fries. How ‘bout that?”

“That sounds great. Thank you, Eileen.”

“You’re welcome.” Eileen smiled before going back to her kitchen.

“That was close.” Steve mumbled before drinking his coffee. He’s getting good at this laying low thing.

In the corner of his eye, he saw a foreigner come in the diner with a rolled up newspaper who looked around the room first before sitting down. To any other people, it would seem normal. But this man wore a terribly long, thick coat with boots and gloves. It was as if he were in an 80s movie playing a detective who would smoke Cuban cigarettes.

Just then, another foreigner came in the diner with similar looking clothes. He shared a look with the first man and sat far away from him, somewhere behind Steve. Steve immediately knew what this was. Steve couldn’t finish his pancakes now and put a few dollar bills on the table before leaving the diner.

Of course, the two men followed him. Who could they be? HYDRA? Steve turned to the right too fast and bumped into someone.

“Ca- Mike!”

“What- Y/N!”

Steve glanced behind him and couldn’t see the men. He sighed in relief. “Hey, uh.. how are you?”

Y/N looked behind her and saw the two Russians who were following her. “Uh, I’m good! Yeah. Listen, I have to go-” She was about to go past Steve when she saw two other Russians behind him. “Shit.”

Steve frowned, “What, what is it-” He saw two other agents jogging towards their way, “Fuck.”

Steve and Y/N shared a look of realization. “Wait, are you-”

“Cap, watch out!” Y/N pulled him to the side when the Russians behind him pulled out guns and started firing.

“Did you just-”

“Oh shut up!” Y/N shouted and pulled him with her to the small alley. Four men fired at them as they ran.

Steve ran behind her, a lot of thoughts running through his head. “Who the hell are you?!”

“Can we please not do this right now??!” Y/N exclaimed as she jumped over the fence. She couldn’t believe she called him Cap! Of all times!

After running for a while, they finally stopped behind Al’s Hardware Store. “Did we lose them?” Y/N asked.

“Yeah, I think so.” Steve panted and finally looked at her. “So, who are you?”

Y/N looked at him and sighed. “I’m Y/N-”

“Don’t lie to me-”

“Would you let me talk? Jesus.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m Y/N Viktorovna. I was a Russian spy-.”

“You’re a Russian spy?”

“Was!” Y/N hissed. “Those Russian men were chasing me because I escaped 5 years ago.”

“Why did you escape?”

“None of your business.”

Steve frowned. “I don’t trust you.”

“I never told you to.” She scoffed, “What the hell is Captain America doing in this small town anyway?”

“Vacation.”

“What a load of crap.”

Steve scoffed, “I was on vacation. Until those men showed up and followed me.”

“No, they were following me.”

“No, I’m pretty sure-”

“Там они! (There they are!)”

Both Y/N and Steve looked behind them and saw a huge group of Russians, and started running again. “Well I guess they’re following both of us!” Steve yelled.

“You think?!” Y/N grumbled and grabbed the gun she kept behind her.

“You’ve had a gun all this time and didn’t use it?!”

She scoffed and shot a few of the Russians. “Be glad I didn’t use it on you!”

“I don’t think there are enough bullets!” Steve said as he ducked behind the car.

“Oh at least I’m doing something!” Y/N said and ducked next to him. “I’m out.”

Steve rolled his eyes and looked at his watch. “Okay, in a few minutes now- Hey, what are you doing- Hey!”

Y/N jumped over the car to the nearest man and took his gun. Steve grumbled and followed. They took out the men one by one until they’re all down on the ground and Steve took out the guy strangling Y/N.

“You’re welcome.”

“I was handling that.” She coughed.

A few moments later, a big jet flew over them and landed nearby. Y/N was about to put her gun up when someone placed a spear next to her neck. “Raise that gun and you will never see another day.”

Gulping, Y/N put the gun down and let the woman cuff her.

“Okoye, she’s with me.”

“Sorry, Captain. As far as I’m concerned, she’s just as Russian as they are.” Okoye motioned to the bodies on the ground.

Y/N gritted her teeth when she realized she couldn’t get out of the cuffs. She saw Andrew on the side of the road, hiding behind a trash can and her eyes widened. She shook her head to Andrew to tell him to run, and Andrew ran. To her.

“No, Andrew, no!”

Andrew was held back by the Dora Milaje and Steve prevented them from stabbing the boy, “You can’t take Y/N away! No! She’s my favorite aunt in the whole world, you can’t take her away!”

The poor boy was sobbing his eyes out and Y/N softened. “Andrew, go back home, now. I’ll be fine, I promise. Tell your mommy I’ll call her as soon as I can.”

Andrew shook his head. “Y/N promised you’d stay!”

Y/N approached Andrew with Steve’s permission to the Dora Milaje and Andrew kept crying.

“Andrew, look at me.” She said. “Andrew, what did I say about me leaving?”

Andrew stopped crying slowly and wiped his tears away. “...That you’ll always come back... because we’re family.”

“Exactly.” Y/N said, “now come here.” She motioned him to hug her.

Andrew hugged Y/N tightly and she gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I promise I’ll be okay. And I always keep my promises, right?”

The little boy nodded and let go of Y/N. “I promise I will take care of our family.”

“That’s a good boy.” Y/N smiled, “Okay, you go home now. It’s getting dark. Tell your mommy I’m fine.”

Andrew got on his bike and looked at Y/N one more time before going home.

Steve felt guilty on what’s happening and took Y/N to the jet. As much as he felt like Y/N didn’t deserve this treatment, there were still so many questions to ask. Just who the hell is she?

tell me if you want to be tagged :D

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mister-lucky-bunny · 5 years

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Sympathy For The Ghosts

Long story short, I really liked @sparvely‘s OC, Moon, so I decided to write a fiction with him and my own Scooby Doo OC, the Detective! Let me know what y’all think (and let me know of any accidental errors I may have made, I wrote this all in one sitting like a dumdum). Enjoy!

Sympathy For The Ghosts

"Ugh... why couldn't it have been a warmer night..? I'm freezing," grumbled the voice of one shivering Moon Caddy Pérez. Currently, the sun was starting to make it's descent above the mountains, the sky starting to phase between a bright, dark orange to a dark, subtle violet. The growing dusk certainly wouldn't help with the coolness of the air, but at the very least, there was no threat of rain that night. So there was one upside.

Moon himself was carrying nothing more than a flashlight, which he had just turned on. As the night started to seep it's way in, the forest that the short paranormal detective found himself walking in was starting to grow darker and darker. Thankfully, there was a visible path to follow, so anyone who wanted to walk down it could easily find their way back. Of course, no one ever did. Who would, after all? An off-the-road path heading into a wooded area filled with who knows what? Most people would pass on that opportunity.

But not Moon. No sir, not tonight. With the rumors spreading around town of ghost sightings, he made sure to keep an ear out for any more stories, or perhaps a lead. Some would say that he took to these sorts of events like a few other paranormal detectives, who had quite the infamous reputation around town.

For tonight, however, he was by himself, carefully treading below errant tree branches and stepping over roots, huddling into his arms a little to help stay warm. Normally, to hear about ghost sightings, one would venture out to the local cemetery. After all, why wouldn't a large area filled with the dead bodies contain ghosts? However, Moon knew that whatever was happening around town wasn't occurring because of the cemetery. He had been by there quite a few times before, and had never once had an encounter with the paranormal. So where should he look? From various stories around town, the sightings took place around the side of roads, usually coming from people who liked to jog early in the mornings, or those who drove around at night.

A little research on Moon's part revealed that there was once an abandoned graveyard, all the way back in the 1800s, that used to be located on abandoned property. Age and nature took a hold of the old house that resided there and destroyed leaving, letting it rot away into nothing. Soon, the forest grew over the entire area, leaving it forgotten for years.

The ground became a lot more uneven as Moon found himself heading up a small hill of sorts, dead leaves littering the ground, crunching beneath his footfalls. The path started to fade away, the trees thinning out a little more. As he abandoned the pathway, he tried not to remember that one movie about three kids being lost in the forest and continued on.

He made sure not to wander too far away, otherwise he'd become lost, and with night approaching, that was the last thing he wanted. As Moon flashed his light around, he tried to look for any semblance of a flat surface area. Fortunately for him, he found that just, not too far away from where he strayed off. While there were trees growing, they weren't nearly as tall as the others he had encountered, and were quite thin, showing that they were no more than mere saplings.

With dead leaves scattered all about the place, he remained cautious, not wanting to trip over any rocks. Speaking of which, as he continued to shine his flashlight around, he found cracked stones sticking up out of the ground. With how they looked, they were far too big to be natural. Moon gently bent down in front of one, letting his fingers gently feel along the jagged edges. As his fingertips rubbed across the surface, he realized that there were markings on them. However, they were horribly scratched, almost as if an animal had gotten to them.

The air was growing colder and colder, making Moon shiver a bit more. What made him freeze up, however, was the sound of dead leaves shifting around, crunching gently beneath... something. The footfalls were uneven, and almost sounded like they were moving closer. 'Ghosts can't make noise like that...' Moon thought to himself, quickly standing up and flashing his light towards the source. He almost wished he did see a ghost, as the sight before him was very unexpected, causing him to gasp out.

Moon's light shone across a man's face. Despite his large smile, he didn't look too welcoming. He sported two, tired, yet wide-lidded eyes, heavy shadows underneath them. His hair was a deep dark brown, which he had lazily styled to hang to the side. His face was scruffed with dark facial hair as well. The man wore a large, purple hoodie, which he kept his hands buried in, along with dark blue jeans and black sneakers. The boy realized that the man was limping somewhat as he moved closer, unfazed by the sudden bright light in his eyes, which remained unblinking.

"Who are you?" Moon questioned quickly and sharply, showing that he was not a fan of being scared, especially by some stranger he's never even met before. Add in the scenario of a dark forest, and it was downright creepy.

The odd stranger's smile cracked even further, if that was even possible, and let out a slight, dark chuckle. "Caught ya by surprise, huh?" He asked back, stopping in place and lifting up one of his hands, waving it some. The man's voice was deep, yet very gruff, with a distinct Southern accent. "My bad. I have that effect on people sometimes," He joked, chuckling once more. Since Moon had his light on the man, he could easily see that the skin on his hand was... incredibly scarred. Moon remained on guard though, even as he shoved his hand back into his hoodie pouch.

"Yeah, you did," Moon huffed out, his voice softening up a little bit, lowering his light somewhat. "Still, that doesn't answer my earlier question."

"Hm," The man began slowly, flipping his hair a bit. "Just a traveler. Heard about Crystal Cove's... reputation, and it piqued my curiosity." As the strange, tall man continued on, Moon tried not to be freaked out by how he didn't seem to need to blink. "Most just call me the Detective. As well as some other... impolite names, but I doubt you'd want to use them," He finished, giving another small laugh at his own joke.

Disregarding the fact that he never gave an actual name, Moon sighed and fixed his own hair somewhat. "I'm Moon. I don't suppose you're here for the same reason I am, huh?" He asked, hoping that was the case. While it wouldn't have been nice to classify this man as a serial killer... he almost fit the part.

"Might be," He replied nonchalantly, shrugging. Despite the fact that Moon let out another unamused huff and put a hand on his hip, the Detective continued on. "Heard this place has some history. This area in particular."

"Yeah, that's right," Moon answered, feeling slightly more comfortable enough with the Detective to move forward a little. "A graveyard used to be around here before it was grown over. I'm thinking it may have something to do with the recent ghost sightings around town."

"I've heard those stories as well," the Detective responded, his smile still nice and big. "Only been here a few days, and that's all I've heard. Have ya seen anything yet?" He asked Moon, tilting his head somewhat.

He shook his head in response. "Nah, not yet. Hopefully it's not just a group of troublemakers trying to pull a prank or something."

"I highly doubt it," The detective said, shaking his head. "If two people have a similar story, it's a coincidence. If three, it's concerning. Four, you've got a mystery to solve," He said, his smile flashing even more widely.

"Heh, almost sounds like something Fred would say..." Moon chuckled, seeing the man's smile quickly turn back into a grin, which looked a lot more subtle than his previous expressions. When the Detective said nothing, the young hippie clarified. "Oh, uh, Fred Jones? Of Mystery Incorporated? Surely you must've heard of them. They're, like, kind of a big deal around here."

The man said nothing for a few more seconds, instead taking a hand out to scratch his chin, as if thinking. His grin widened a little more, the man looking off to the side. "...sounds familiar. Will have to look into 'em."

It was hard to tell if he was actually telling the truth in this regard or not, but something else caught Moon's attention before he could press on about the current topic. A shadowy silhouette, dimly illuminated by a white light was moving slowly from behind a tree, almost as if it were peering out from behind it. The moment he blinked, however, it had drifted away. This didn't stop the hippie from gasping out and saying aloud, "I saw one..! It was just there, looking at us..!"

The Detective whipped his head around to where Moon might've been talking about, his expression looking marginally more excited. His voice still sounded as deep and almost monotone as before, however. "Probably curious," He answered.

Moon shivered a bit more, the air becoming oddly colder, the night sky growing even darker at this point. However, the wind had not picked up in the slightest. "I don't think that was the only one around here," Moon stated.

"Definitely not," the man said, pointing a finger in Moon's direction. "This place used to be a graveyard of sorts, right? Can ya tell me who it was for?" He questioned, raising an eyebrow.

At this, Moon did his best to regather the information he could. "Uh, let's see... there was a house connected to the property... a farm, of sorts. Big family, I believe."

"What else?" The Detective encouraged, quite interested in what else he had to say. From the looks of it, he too was familiar with the story.

Moon continued on. "Well, they made a name for themselves, and were not liked by competition so..." The hippie let out a gasp, realizing why so many ghosts were seen. This gave the Detective the opportunity to finish his sentence.

"They burnt their barn down," He replied grimly. It was hard to tell if he was still smiling or not, but the man was looking elsewhere, making the shadow on his face look more intimidating.

"That's... awful!" He gasped, trying his best to not become over emotional. It was difficult though, his voice already showing how he felt. "But... why would they go through the trouble of burying them in a graveyard..?"

"They didn't," The Detective replied again, his voice sounding even more grim.

The weight of his words hung in the air for awhile as Moon took that statement in. Once the barn was burnt down, their bodies were left to perish with it. As the hippie thought about this horrific event, the Detective spoke up once more.

"...I think they're here to see us themselves," He stated simply. Slowly, Moon lifted his head, looking directly across to the Detective. His eyes were scanning around quickly, darting from one place to the other in a rapid manner. "Look around. Slowly. Carefully," He warned quietly, his voice a harsh whisper.

Moon's eyes scanned around, slowly adjusting to the night sky. More silhouettes were starting to circle around the pair of investigators, slowly floating into a ring of sorts. While their shapes were vaguely humanoid at best, their heights often varied. As he turned his head around to see even more ghostly apparitions start to appear, he noticed quite a few short ones. They made a motion as if to hold onto a taller ghost's hand.

The two humans said nothing as they all stopped, forming a tight circle around them. The ghosts stopped moving, instead turning their heads to the small group that had wandered onto their old property. For awhile, no one did anything, both Moon and the Detective trying to figure out what to do. Then, the hippie's own eyes widened in realization, letting out a small 'oh!'.

The Detective, as well as the circle of spirits, watched as he got to his knees and gently pulled up the old, jagged stone from earlier. He situated it into the ground, making sure it was more upright at this point. He pulled together a few smaller stones around it, making it look more decorative and professional. It didn't take long for the Detective to know what Moon was doing, as he had finished up by making a small cross out of sticks, tying it together with the stems of dead leaves. A little memorial.

One of the taller figures slowly floated towards the memorial, looking towards it. It would get to it's knees(?) and get into a position that made it look like it was praying. Soon, all of the other spirits would do the same, bowing their heads and following along. At this point, however, Moon had no real idea of what to do. Sure, he had properly memorialized them, but what next?

Thankfully, the Detective had an idea. He gently limped towards the kneeling spirit, letting a scarred hand hover over the shoulder. Then, he began to recite a prayer in Latin. "Pater caram habeant animarum ire nocuit regni posuit animam requiescere..." He recited deeply, his voice sounding oddly... calming.

Sure enough, with small, yet audible, gasps, the spirits began to fade away, slowly lifting into the sky. The one kneeling would the the last to go, being lifted up above as it was still praying. Soon, only Moon and the Detective were alone.

The two remained silent for a little bit longer before the Detective began to walk past Moon, heading back towards the path. "...I believe they're put to rest now," He stated simply, his grin as wide as it ever was.

"You know Latin?" Moon asked, turning his body to keep an eye on the man.

"Yup. When you read as much sacred works as I do, you get a tongue for it," He chuckled, continuing on.

Moon hurried to his side, deciding it was time for him to head back as well. "Thanks for helping," He responded, looking his way. "It's awful to know that they had to... well, die in such a bad way. But knowing that ghosts can't leave our world until they're put to rest. Or, in some cases, finish some sort of motive they had when they were alive."

"Yup, pretty much," The Detective replied with a slight nod. "Thankfully it was simple, this time. Some spirits are harder to get rid of than others. Hell, some of 'em can't even leave our world, even after death."

"Phantoms, right?" The hippie reaffirmed, gaining a nod from the taller, lankier man.

"Seems like you know a lot about this kinda thing," The Detective said, raising an eyebrow in Moon's direction.

"Yeah..! Ghosts are neat. I think that's probably the first time I've ever seen that many all at once," Moon replied. After a few seconds of walking, Moon spoke up. "...so, are you gonna tell me your actual name yet?"

A few more seconds of faux thinking later, the Detective flashed a big smile to him. "Nah." Moon rolled his eyes again, giving a wry smile in return.

"Figured as much."

#scooby doo #scooby doo fanfiction #scooby doo oc #original character #moon caddy #the detective #sympathy for the ghosts #sparvely

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ohjohnno · 5 years

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Outrageous Fortune Reviewcap: S1E03 (”A Little More Than Kin”)

So, remember what I said about how Jethro’s lie about being part-Maori gets dropped pretty quickly? Well, it does, but not before we have to sigh and sit through an episode about it. It’s a silly idea from two directions - firstly, Jethro is very clearly white as snow, and secondly there’s no way the law firm at which he clerks would have been that lazy with their background checks - but it does, at least, provide us with a plot that gives the writers a chance to more firmly establish Jethro’s personality, and give us a few more clues into what makes him tick.

Cheryl loves Jethro because he’s a shining example to the rest of the family, proof that it’s possible for a West to go straight and live a life not defined by crime and dysfunction. And he is, accordingly, first seen in this episode working on some sort of legal problem, apparently on behalf of a Maori group who are in a dispute with a corporation (the details are left vague, probably for the better). But he soon falls into a dispute with cocky, intensely irritating fellow law clerk Hugh, who is somehow the only one who’s figured out that Jethro isn’t really Maori and figures he can use it to blackmail him. Jethro’s reaction to this is interesting, and troubling.

Hugh steals a piece of evidence Jethro found, hoping to claim credit for it himself and trusting that he has enough material on Jethro to prevent him from doing anything about it. I don’t think he ever had anything to worry about on that front, though - Jethro seems serious in his moral opposition to snitching (”family thing”, he says) and immediately opts to resolve the issue through dirty means. He gets Hugh drunk while Van and Munter raid his home, taking both the evidence he stole and a good deal more besides; Hugh ends up drunkenly revealing that he’s gay, which Jethro then immediately proceeds to use to turn the tables and blackmail him, trusting that the legal profession is still institutionally homophobic enough that it’ll be enough to keep him off his back.

Now, one might say that fair’s fair, and that Hugh was only reaping what he sowed here. I’m not gonna dispute that, exactly - it’s certainly difficult to feel any sympathy for the asshole, and the fact that he’s just performing heterosexuality doesn’t excuse the creepy way he behaves around women. But one can’t help but imagine that there were probably a whole bunch of ways Jethro could have handled this situation without resorting immediately to the traditional West route, and that depriving Hugh of so much expensive property for the simple crime of trying to take credit for some of Jethro’s work might actually be a teensy bit of an over-escalation. And then there’s the important matter of the qualitative difference between the two blackmails: Hugh is blackmailing Jethro over a lie he’s telling to cynically advance his own career at the expense of members of a disadvantaged minority, while Jethro is blackmailing Hugh over actually being a disadvantaged minority.

So I don’t buy that this is a justified response. It is, rather, the first real set of evidence we have that Jethro’s apple really didn’t fall very far from the tree after all. He recruits Van into his scheme with full knowledge that Cheryl wouldn’t approve if she knew, fully understanding her mission and choosing to ignore it; he tries to convince his female PA to take Hugh home with her as part of the distraction, not yet knowing that he isn’t heterosexual and not at all caring that he gives her the creeps; and not once does he ever display any guilt for pretending to be Maori in order to receive what Hugh calls “brownie points”, not even when he’s clumsily speaking te reo to their faces. “You are one of them Wests, aren’t you?” says a shocked Hugh at the end; indeed he is, even if Cheryl is blind to it.

Speaking of Cheryl, she is once again the focus of the other main plot here, and it concerns similar themes. She leaves her supermarket job - voluntarily this time - and takes up work with a man called Allen, the husband of her cancer-stricken friend and himself an old friend of Wolf’s. But his motives turn out to be mighty impure, and the result is another mess.

It’s not the most interesting plot the show ever did - it’s a little predictable, honestly - but it does give us more insight into Cheryl’s own personality, and gives us more of a handle on one of her most important flaws. Early in the episode, at a party for the aforementioned friend, a drunk Eric doesn’t take no for an answer and has to be forced off Cheryl by Allen; an attempted sexual assault like that should be an instant friendship-ender, but the moment Eric’s gone Cheryl brushes it off, blaming it on the drink and absolving the man himself. Later, when Allen himself finally gets too horny and starts getting incredibly - and aggressively - inappropriate at work, Cheryl treats it probably far more frivolously than she should, and even after the police (unrelatedly) show up, she continues to insist that he’s a decent man. It’s a permissiveness she must have learned in the course of her marriage with Wolf, and it serves her ill.

It’s ironic, considering how hyper-sensitive she is to the danger of anything similar happening to Pascalle. She finds out that she works as a waitress in a strip club - a truth she presses out of Loretta, who seems remarkably uninterested in exerting any particular effort to maintain the lie - and warns her of the likely ulterior motives of her new boss; Pascalle rejects the counsel (loudly), citing Cheryl’s decision to work for “creepy uncle Allen”, and she does turn out to have something of a point. On the one hand, one totally feels for Cheryl’s concern for Pascalle, considering the latter’s naivete and vulnerability; on the other hand, one totally understands Pascalle, who knows that her mother doesn’t really like or properly respect the direction in which she’s taking her life anyway and is most probably correct to see some moralistic hypocrisy in her motives. Eventually Cheryl does accept Pascalle’s decisions, if only reluctantly, and the two mend the bridge; this is well-timed, because shortly thereafter Cheryl finds several of her other bridges afire.

This, see, is where Wolf comes into it. His part in this episode doesn’t tell us much we couldn’t already at least guess about him, but it is, at least, good to see it properly laid out that he is one of those men who gets incredibly paranoid in his possessiveness about his wife, and that, in turn, suggests things about him that haven’t yet been revealed.

He’s a real bastard this episode, truly in unapologetic antagonist mode. He correctly guesses what, exactly, it is that Allen wants, even as Cheryl denies it, but he can’t bring himself to trust her to actually deal with it herself; instead, he immediately starts to undermine her, first by contradicting her about Pascalle (expressing approval of her new job, which Cheryl correctly notes would be unthinkable if he’d heard about it first) and then by breaking his own no-snitching code and getting Allen busted for various illegal side-activities, shutting down his entire business and depriving Cheryl of her income. After all his bleating about their children’s futures last episode, it’s instructive to see his priorities laid out: he might, indeed, value those futures, but he values his own possession of his wife’s purity more, and he’s willing to do anything necessary to protect it, no matter how much harm it causes. Of course, the fact that a man who assumes his woman would cheat on him at first opportunity is most probably projecting his own personal history goes unmentioned by any of the characters in the episode, but it’s hanging in the background nonetheless, especially considering what he knows about his friend Allen. ”Can’t keep his dick in his pants”, indeed - judge a man by the company he keeps.

This finally wears Cheryl down to breaking point, and her usual tolerance for Wolf’s malfeasance dries up. Her confrontation with him at the end, dressed expensively, is brilliant; Wolf’s first thought is not of her, but of him, and you can tell by the way his first reaction upon seeing her is to immediately and dangerously look round at all his fellow inmates to make sure they aren’t checking her out before accusatorily asking her why she’s dressed to invite their potential stares. Cheryl says she doesn’t wanna see him for a while; Wolf does his best to look like he’s just accepting it, but you can tell it gets to him. And yet for all his sadness, he still doesn’t seem particularly introspective; his self-confidence is too great to be truly pierced by any one thing, even this.

For the most part, that’s it for the episode. Loretta appears just long enough to get perved at by an inmate, drop her sister in the shit and drop a couple of her usual zingers, including one satisfyingly aimed at Eric; Ted remains a mince-joke machine and nothing else. Wayne Judd appears briefly, being less confrontational with Cheryl than he was before (take note of this). The school headmistress reminds us all that she’s Jethro’s girlfriend, a fact I forgot to mention until now because it hasn’t been important yet. The next episode will feature every important character (save Ted, who has a few episodes to go yet) in important roles, and it happens to be one of my favorite episodes in the entire show. Onward!

#antonia prebble #siobhan marshall #antony starr #robyn malcolm #grant bowler #television #outrageous fortune #frank whitten #rachel lang #gutter black #nz

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filmsthirteen · 5 years

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Finding Myself through Cameron Crowe Films

*Minor Spoilers*

There are a handful of directors, writers, artists, and singers who have influenced my life. Yet there is only a handful of them who consistently released art that contributed to the person I have moulded into, (despite only being 19 and thinking this is the final version of myself). But one filmmaker in particular, resonates as having created films that were pressed play constantly as a teenager. That filmmaker is the man, the myth, the legend, Cameron Crowe. If it were up to me, he’d be Sir Cameron Crowe. An artist who had managed to shape multiple generations and accurately reflect on generations that once existed. From the early eighties, Crowe has contributed to the films that teens flocked to the theatre to see when they were released, and many years later, those teens would show their kids those films. Thus, I was thankfully brought up by brilliant films such as Fast Times at Ridgemont High, Say Anything, Singles, and Almost Famous. All those films manage to capture adolescence and young adulthood, through numerous characters, eras, and most importantly, through the use of music. Now that I’m in my final year of being a teenager, and entering the next phase of my life, I thought it was time to thank Cameron Crowe for guiding me through these seemingly treacherous years.

I was raised on eighties films. I always had the blessing of having parents who were really into films, and so I was constantly shown film after film. Many of them were teen films of the eighties. So, of course, there were many late nights of watching Pretty in Pink, Heathers, and Risky Business. Though Crowe's films obviously ended up in the mix, the first time I remember sitting down to watch one of his films ended up being around thirteen. My Dad got me one of those three pack special DVDs from Walmart, with Sixteen Candles and The Breakfast Club. Both of them I was absolutely obsessed with and made me long to be a teenager. Despite John Hughes being the legend he is, the third film, Fast Times at Ridgemont High, was the one that stuck with me through all four years of high school. I watched the film on my own the night before my first day of high school. I was starting that year off fresh; all my friends were going to the public school, while my parents shipped me off to the Catholic school the next town over, where I’d have to wear khaki cardboard material like pants, and polyester shirts in either green, white or blue. I worried my entire summer about the first day of high school; walking down halls I didn’t know, sitting beside people I never had the pleasure of knowing since kindergarten. On Stacy's (Jennifer Jason Leigh) first day of high school, American Girl by Tom Petty plays. Immediately I grabbed my iPod touch, added it to my iTunes, and played it on repeat on my hour and a half long bus ride, and into the doors of the school. Minus doing it with an older dude, getting pregnant, and brushing up my blowjob skills with a carrot in front of the cafeteria, I wished I was like Stacy. Having a cool job in the mall, somehow being gorgeous all the time (even during exam season?) and having a really sweet guy like Mark take you on a date to a really fancy German restaurant, seemed like an experience I deserved. But Cameron wrote about things in this film so painfully realistic to the high school experience, even thirty years later. I knew girls who went out with weird guys way too old for them, having plans for the future destroyed, and of course, having a teacher who thinks that everyone is on dope (which they're totally right about). It doesn't exaggerate the experience of a teenager, making the film so close to the truth as a film can get. Perhaps its due to Crowe actually spending the year as an undercover student, and honestly, all teen films should've been fact-checked like this one.

Less than seven years later, Crowe came out with Say Anything. Though my Mom loves this movie, and used to watch it whenever it would come on TV, it was the 2010 film Easy A that actually got me to watch the movie. I made it a point to go back and watch all those films that Emma Stone’s character lists off when discussing if chivalry is dead. Thus I ended up watching Can’t Buy Me Love, Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club, Ferris Bueller's Day Off, and of course, Say Anything. I wanted my life to be like an 80s movie directed by John Hughes, but I got it so much better, I got a life unintentionally directed by Cameron Crowe. And because of that, I fell in love with wanting to be that smart girl like Diane Court. I look back now on how much studying I did in high school, and how it paid off to where I am now. It’s important for filmmakers to add these characters, ones were they say that girls can be pretty and smart, not settling for the cliched pick and choose scenario. So I worked hard, writing endless essays, studying late at night for a math test, and juggled clubs and activities. But still, I wished to also have that and be wanted by someone. Like Lloyd Dobler, who wants Diane so much, its all he thinks about. But listen, for once I can say the character of Lloyd isn't some creepy dude, who has an obsession and is purely motivated by this girls essence. Again, there are way too many films with the lead guy being solely provoked by a woman's body. But when he gets her, he holds on, noting that her feelings are reciprocated. She could go off to Oxford, and he’d be right there. Perhaps love at this age is rare, but when you know, well you know. And that's a huge difference that my generation can see. Though many of us have grown up with divorced parents, constant cheating, and unreciprocated feelings, at such a young age, we shouldn't keep that from the actual emotions that we are meant to feel for another human. Maybe we are supposed to give it all, and as I watch this film, I’m not wondering what if Lloyd didn't go about the relationship as he did, I wonder how Lloyd and Diane are. Because like I said, he wants her so bad that he stands outside of her house after a fight, holding that boombox up high, blasting the best love song of all time, In Your Eyes by Peter Gabriel. I can’t even tell you the amount of times I’ve had that song on an endless repeat, but I can promise that I most likely broke the record the summer of ‘18. I longed to be sought after like Diane (cause who honestly doesn't want to be so enormously desired by someone you love?). By the end of the August heat, I laid awake at night, waiting for that song to be played outside of my window (actually would've freaked me out but still, the thoughts nice). But that song ended up being played during the fall, plenty of times in the cold winter days, and in the early spring, all the while so content with listening to it at this very moment. Sometimes boys and girls, it's good to just say anything (add wink emoji here).

Despite still being totally obsessed with all things of 80s culture, it's time to bring up that phase that wasn't ever a phase, but the depths of my soul. The tenth grade brought about my “grunge phase.” I got my nose pierced, splurged on Doc Martens, stocked my closet with various coloured flannel shirts and band tees. I wanted people to know that I listened to Nirvana, Guns n Roses, and Pearl Jam, despite it being on my shirt that I’d wear under my uniform sweater. My eyeliner was thick black, and my tweets were usually lyrics from some band part of the Seattle Sound. My Dad was in his teens when the Seattle sound came about, and thus as a kid, I spent many car rides hearing Alice in Chains ‘Dirt’ album, Pearl Jam’s the ‘Ten’ album, and Nirvana’s ‘Unplugged’ album on the radio. For me, I was the real shit when it came to this era of my life. And that became the perfect opportunity for my dad to introduce me to Crowe’s ‘92 film Singles. A group of young adults who all live in (a now extremely famous) the same apartment complex, during the height of the Seattle sound. Surprise surprise, they reside in Seattle. Honestly, there could've been no better film for my dad to turn on. With cameos from my bae Eddie Vedder and the late Chris Cornell, the film brings so much to the group of young adults who chose to immerse themselves in real boy bands, compared to whatever the other ones who sang with earpieces paired with synchronized dances did. No offence. Dealing with the idea of relationships, whether we are to settle or have fun in our 20s, Singles is supposed to be about Gen Xer’s, yet, I can see how many millennials still have this issue. There are plenty of girls I know who have used their ex’s t-shirts to clean their toilets, and though we aren't making dating VHS’s, they are perfecting their tinder profiles, hoping that actual human connection exists on the other end. The biggest point in the film that got me, (despite being sixteen trying to imagine myself in four years time), was the whole fear of what if you commit and what if you don’t? There are many ways you can mess up potential, and still, it lies within not calling after a date, or in our case, texting after hanging out. Sometimes we just need people to say and do the right things without having to tell them what is the right thing to do or say. And if it all works out, we’ll end up like Steve and Linda who move out the single bedroom apartment, and into never having to be labelled again as a single.

Eight years came about the semi autobiographical story of Crowe himself, Almost Famous. The film with the best soundtrack of all time, due to it having a budget of 3.5 million, compared to most films with budgets of about 1.5 million. Honestly, that's the best use of money in all of human history. And thanks to Zooey Deschanel’s duffel bag, we get to hear Simon and Garfunkel, Led Zeppelin, The Beach Boys, and everyone's favourite, Elton John. You cannot tell me you did not get goosebumps hearing Tiny Dancer being sung in unison by Kate Hudson, Billy Crudup, Patrick Fugit, Jason Leigh, and well I could go on forever about the well-casted film. Before watching the film, I remember that Fool in the Rain was my favourite Zeppelin song. But after watching it for the first time, I had probably had listened to Led Zeppelin’s song Tangerine a hundred times. If a film has such tangible (see what I did there) scenes, and a song contains such a powerful presence, then that is mastering filmmaking in my opinion. Thus, this film was watched during all sorts of moments in my adolescence. The time I wanted to work as a journalist for Rolling Stone, when I was in need of a change, and when I was absolutely alone and only a Cameron Crowe film understood me. And each time I was damn near tempted to be a roadie for a somewhat known band, who hopefully was opening for Black Sabbath. Actually, it was very much this film that got me more obsessed with concerts than I was before. I’d buy tickets as soon as they’d go on sale, mostly to smaller bands, that way I’d have a chance of being up close, and even meeting the band. Like William, I’d wait by the stage doors for the band. Dragging my friends to the concert at least twelve hours before the show would start, just so I could meet bands like Peach Pit, Pale Waves, Colouring, and well other indie bands that I’m sure slim to no adults know. Believe me, I’d wait a week for Black Sabbath if I could. But beyond that, I think that every young person deserves the life, encapsulated in this film; of just going out there and being absolutely free. You know, before life kicks in. And that's really what this film, amongst nearly all of Crowe's films, demonstrate. Get out there kid, put on those headphones, blast some Lynyrd Skynyrd, and just live before you die. Being obsessed with listening to classic rock, I devoured the only season of Paul Feig’s Freaks and Geeks, and had Almost Famous’s soundtrack on repeat. I owned a long green army jacket, and also a faux sheepskin sherpa coat. I was both Lindsey Weir and Penny Lane. I was walking down the two hallways of my high school, and the one street of my small towns downtown, earbuds in, Fleetwood Mac blasting. And through the many characters of these films, they reminded me that I’m here for the art. For the music from the Bookends album, the score of a Tim Burton film, and the tracks of a Tarantino picture. Like Kathy and Paul who went off to see America, Lindsey who goes off to a Grateful Dead concert with her best friend, and Penny Lane who is off to her dream destination of Morocco, I myself am off to see and hear the world.

It's odd to look back on these films that meant so much to who I was and who I’ve become. I’m in my last year of being a teenager, and I’m almost done university’ yet I still feel so attached to these characters I feel that I someway embodied. But that's not because I based my life off these characters Crowe created, it's really because Crowe based these characters off of people that exist in life. In those years of watching any teen film out there, Crowes (and of course Hughes) inspired me to look around constantly, taking notes on the friends I had spent lunches on Thursdays, discussing films with, just in case I’d make a film reminiscent about them. In my seemingly ordinary life, Crowe told me to go out and grab those who write seemingly precognition notes in your yearbook. Most importantly, Crowe told me to just let the music guide me through life. And for that, I got my life to be directed by Cameron Crowe.

INT. Credits being to roll, as ELTON JOHN’S TINY DANCER plays.

FADE OUT

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nadziejastar · 5 years

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Introducing Skuld into the castle experiments story didn't even have to come at the expense of Kairi, Isa, and Lea. There were supposed to many victims, adding one more wouldn't be too much of a stretch. But I guess they wanted to make Subject X unique, so the stories of others were harmed so she would stand out more.

Yes, I have thought the exact same thing. It would have made 100 times more sense if they were ALL test subjects. Then it would actually feel believable that they’d feel a close bond with this girl. There was no need to make them apprentices of all things.

But I’ve also wondered if there was a different reason Lea and Isa’s story was altered. Was it because the original experiments into the “darkness of the heart" were deemed too dark and had to be censored? Unfortunately, I find this very possible.

Were The Experiments Into The “Darkness of the Heart” Censored By Disney?

Alter- Our usage is trying to follow the programmers usage of this word. A dissociated part of the mind which has a separate identity and is given cue codes by the mind-control programmers, to trigger that dissociated part of the mind to come to the front of the mind. The alter’s identity may be a gem, rock, a tape recorder, a poodle, a white kitten, a dove, a horse, or even think of itself as a person or a demon. It all depends on its programming.

Alter Fragment- An alter is different from an alter fragment in that the alter fragment is a dissociated part of the mind which serves only a single purpose. The programmers will give an alter a history, and insure that shadow alters will provide a full range of accessible emotions. Sometimes the distinctions between alters and alter fragments is vague, but examples from the two ends of the spectrum are easy to tell apart.

Switching–This is when one part (fragment) of the mind takes over from another, or in simple terms, this is when one alter personality (or alter fragment) takes the body from the alter which is holding the body. Switching can occur via the Programmers’ codes for calling up alters, or by external or internal stimuli that trigger an alter to come out. Switching will usually cause at least a flicker of the eyes, and for outside observers, who know the different personalities, they will observe another personality take the body.

It’s possible this MK Ultra-inspired subplot would have been seen as inappropriate for a franchise that needed to reach as wide of an audience as possible. Maybe it was fine in the past when the series was more obscure and flew under Disney’s radar. But once the series got so big, Disney took notice and put the brakes on it? The cancelled game was called A Fragmentary Passage. And maybe the memory experiments with Skuld were created to take the attention away from the previously mentioned experiments on darkness.

There’s a lot of rumors about Disney being linked to various mind control programs. I think most people have seen stuff like that on Youtube. Many celebrities, including former Disney channel actors and actresses are believed to be victims of mind control. When Britney Spears had her famous mental breakdown, the subject was talked about a lot. And some say that Disney movies were also used for mind control programming. Like Alice in Wonderland or Peter Pan. Here’s an example:

TINKERBELLE PROGRAMMING (never grow up/alien)

Capt’n or Cap’n (captain) represents the programmer in Peter Pan programming. Tinkerbelle is a young alter created under Peter Pan programming. ‘TRANCE DIMENSIONAL TRAVEL RIGHT FROM YOUR OWN BACKYARD. THE DIMENSIONS OF YOUR PYRAMID ARE TO BE 9 BYE 9 BYE 9 BYE.”

Alien programming (also involves Peter Pan programming)

“RIDE THE LIGHT” - Peter Pan programming meaning to go into hypnotic induction attached to a light that is seen when given a high voltage shock. This is given to make experiences seem like they occur in another dimension.

Creeeepy. Maybe Disney didn’t want that type of content associated with a game under their brand, thinking it would fuel more Illuminati conspiracies?

Wizard of Oz Programming

Over the rainbow in Oz is for the Monarch slave to be in a trance, and into a certain area of the programming. To be fluctuating at both ends as an observer and not a participant or to go to the other extreme and become a participant. The theme song of the movie goes, “Somewhere over the Rainbow…there’s a land where the dreams that you dare to dream really come true.” These lyrics are a method to hypnotically confuse the brain to perceive that the “over the Rainbow experience” (which is usually horrible abuse) is a “dream”.

The dissociative mind is only too happy to call the trauma a dream, which is lived as a reality for a moment, but is nevertheless recorded by the mind as a fantasy. The term for this is cryptoamnesia, which means the process where the proper functioning of memory is hypnotically messed up. The slave’s internal world becomes “reality” and the external real world becomes the Land of Oz which is perceived as make-believe.

I have always found the subject of government mind control very interesting, and have read many books about it over the years. It’s a big reason I found Lea and Isa’s story so utterly fascinating and overflowing with potential. And it’s why I am so mad at how terribly it was handled.

Tin Man Programming

The Tin Man programming is all purpose versatile program for what ever the master needs done, it means that the slave is a well oiled machine. Sometimes the slave is reluctant to do a job but he is being told that he is a well oiled machine. The exact words may vary with the mission, but the following are exact words, “LEAVE YOUR SHELL. ACTIVATE: MACHINE. COUNT DOWN ONE TO TIN….” “SOON WE’LL HAVE YOU PURRING LIKE A WELL OILED MACHINE. ALL OF YOUR MOVING PARTS ARE PIVOTAL AND GLIDING WITH EASE. MELT INTO MY HANDS. TAKE MY COMMANDS. I’LL HOLD YOUR JAW TO KEEP IT FROM SLIPPING WHILE YOU SLIP THROUGH A WINDOW IN TIME.”

There’s something called the Tin Man programming.

The programming that is related to the Tin Man produces a monarch slave which is described as “A WELL OILED MACHINE” by the handlers. U.S. Sen. Allen Simpson, one of the perpetrators of the Monarch Program, referred to the Tin Man programming when he told a slave “THESE ARE BUT EMPTY SHELLS OF THE LIFE THEY WERE ONCE POSSESSED. LIKE YOU ARE–EMPTY AND VOID OF LIFE.”

Book 3 Ozma of Oz: “I am only a ma-chine, and can-not feel sor-row or joy, no mat-ter what hap-pens.” This is teaching mechanical dissociation, and coincides with Tin Man programming.

I think THIS is the true reason why Saïx hated Xion so much.

Day 150: Dealing with Xion

As expected, the Duplicate is starting to show its limits. The Program showed promise, but a puppet is just a puppet: something to be toyed with until it breaks. I am utterly at a loss as to what Roxas and Axel see in that thing. How best to dispose of it merits my consideration going forward.

She’s a machine. He can’t see her as anything else. And he went through Tin Man programming, so he subconsciously remembers being called a “well-oiled machine”. And to make matters worse, she has a HEART. It’s only natural he’d despise her. I can’t even blame him, honestly.Stuff like this is why I found him so utterly fascinating. And why I thought his characterization in KH3 was a total JOKE.

“SILENCE!” is both in the movie and a command of the Oz Programming. This word SILENCE stands for a code of “no talk” which runs deep in the mind of the slave. As in the movie, certain slave alters will talk to their masters as Dorothy did, “If you please, Sir…” The keys (and triggers) to control the switching of personalities and to give orders are frequently based on Wizard of Oz material.

There’s also silence programming. Having one’s mouth covered is thought to be a sign of someone who has been mind-controlled.

“Very well.” Finally, Xemnas stifled his laughter, though he still sounded intensely amused. “You’re reinstated into the organization.”

“But—!” Saïx jumped to his feet again. At that, Xemnas’s smile disappeared.

“Silence,” he growled, returning his attention to Axel. “Where are Naminé and the boy?”

Look how he growled at Saïx when he said “silence”. Sheesh.

In the Round Room, Saïx looked up at Xemnas high above. “Are you sure we’re dealing with Xion and Roxas the right way?”

His tone was markedly different from usual, as if he spoke to an old friend rather than a superior.

Saïx grows more and more obedient as Days goes on. He becomes more and more one with Xehanort, his mind control handler/programmer.

“Is the device functioning properly?” Xemnas inquired. He and Saïx were the only ones in the Round Room.

“Yes, sir. Luxord and Demyx have been placing them in various worlds before Roxas visits.” Saïx couldn’t fathom what Xemnas’s true objective might be.

“Sora or Xion—it matters not. But we need one of them under our control. Bear that in mind.”

Saïx nodded, and a serene smile came to Xemnas’s face. If that smile meant anything, it was beyond him.

When Saïx nods at Xemnas obediently, he smiles serenely. Veeery creepy.

The codes for slaves follow patterns. There are standard and unique codes. The internal programming alters have the power to change codes if they need to protect the programming.

They will have to hypnotically work with alters when they trance out at night. In other words, most of their programming of front alters will be done when a System lies down for “sleep”–more accurately described as “for trance.”

Fits the “sleep” theme KHBBS and KH3D had.

Scarecrow Programming

Monarch slaves are threatened with fire, like the Scarecrow. They also see people dismembered like the Scarecrow was dismembered. For them it is not an idle threat. The front alters also have hearts full of pain like Scarecrow. Certain alters are not given courage and most have their hearts taken from them.

The alters who are programmed not to have hearts are hypnotically told the same thing the Tin Man says, “I could be human if I only had a heart.” Some alters are taught they are stupid and have no brain. Scarecrow is asked the question, “How can you talk without a brain?” Scarecrow answers, “Some people without a brain can do a lot of talking.”

There’s also programming involving fire, and brainwashing the person by telling them they have no heart. Sounds kinda familiar.

Vexen: Unnngh… Axel, wh…why…?

Axel: You sure love to talk. It’s about time you shut up — forever.

Vexen: No… Don’t do it…!

Axel: We’re nobodies, Vexen. We’ve got no one to be — but we still “are.” So look on the bright side. You’re off the hook. Now you can be nothing instead of just being nobody.

Vexen: M-Mercy, Axel! I don’t want to…go yet…

Axel: NOW you can tell me I don’t respect my elders.

Can’t blame Axel for killing him.

Delta–This is a Greek letter shaped like a triangle which symbolizes change in calculus. It has become a favorite word to use in naming things for the occult elite. Delta teams are 4 person assassination teams which usually are secret teams. Delta Forces is an elite unit that operates under the Joint chiefs of staff that is made up of highly trained total mind-controlled slaves. Delta models are slaves whose sole purpose is assassination. Delta alters are alters within an Illuminati alter system which are programmed to be assassins. These alters are often some of the deepest in a system and in a Genie bottle or with Umbrella programming.

Delta is shaped like a triangle, which is also the alchemical symbol for Fire.

Porcelain Face Programming

Fire/burning torture is used in the porcelain face programming. The charismatic branch of the satanic Network (such as the Assembly of God churches) uses porcelain face programming. This is done by using wax masks upon the victim, and giving them fire torture. The person actually thinks that their face has melted. At that point, the programmer pretends to be a god & a hero, and tells the person he will give them a new face, a porcelain mask.

These new faces by the way, look like the ones sold in so many stores. The memories of abuse are then hypnotically hid behind the masks. To take off the masks is to abreact & burn again. If anyone touches the faces of alters with porcelain face programming, the alters will feel a burning sensation because their masks are not to be tampered with. This means that these alters have via torture & hypnosis lost their own faces! As long as these alters stay in denial of what has happened to them, they do not have to face the burn torture memories.

Is this the true backstory of Axel? It would make a lot of sense. Um. Yikes.No wonder Axel never wanted to leave the Organization, regardless of how fucked up Saïx was. He could never abandon Isa and leave him in a group like this. Never.

Keys to the Kingdom Programming

The Catholic Church has long said, “Give me a child by the age of 5 and they will be Catholic”. The Catholic Church is one of the largest parts of the network that carries out Monarch Mind Control. It is a fact, that if the Jesuits can place in their programming–what they call the “Keys to the Kingdom” Monarch Mind Control within a child, they will control his destiny.

One Jesuit priest is on record as stating that there is nothing he can’t make anyone do with torture. The Jesuits developed torture to a fine art in the Inquisition. Imagine the expertise they have brought to the Monarch Program which begins torturing children at 18 months onward with every sophisticated torture device invented. If the Jesuits brag that they can convince adults to do anything via torture, what about baby children?

Is this what Ventus was?

It was true that Ventus’s heart had been damaged. Master Xehanort had originally raised Ventus to become his vessel, but Ventus had proven to be too kind. Thus, Master Xehanort had split his heart into light and darkness so that he could make use of him in another way.

While he had succeeded in birthing Vanitas, Ventus had remained unconscious, broken after the removal of his heart. Though Master Xehanort had initially tried to discard Ventus after he failed to awaken, for some reason the boy had come to his senses.

In the novel, it was stated that Master Xehanort raised Ventus. Maybe he was originally just an orphan Xehanort found. Or maybe he kidnapped Ven?

Xion: But I thought we were friends.

Axel: Hey, I’m not about to tell you ALL my dark secrets. Got it memorized? I bet you keep a thing or two from me.

Roxas: I don’t have any dark secrets.

Axel: Ha ha, relax, would ya? I’m kidding.

This is another reason why I would have preferred Ventus and Roxas to be the same character. Roxas and Axel become very close. But Roxas has no memories of his past. Axel keeps his past a secret. But if Ven regained his memories, they would find out they had a very similar past. Roxas does have dark secrets. And so does Xion, which would be Kairi’s past as a test subject.

If the Programmers want, they can shatter a front alter and create a new alter to replace the original front. The abuse can be done by the victim themselves to themselves, because programming alters are given the ability to pull up horrific memories via codes. Those traumatic memories, which shattered the mind the first time, are still capable of doing it again when they are abreacted (that is relived by the body & mind).

When Ven meets Master Xehanort at the Keyblade Graveyard before he tells him about Eraqus, is this what happened? Yikes.

In review, the elements that make up a single whole personality–family history, personal history and memories of abilities, talents and one’s self image have all been stripped from the child when the mind divides itself up into sections walled off by amnesia walls. When the programmers work with each memory part, they have the option to give it all the elements of whatever personality they want it to have. They can even make it into an animal or an inanimate object, because that little fragment has has no chance to contradict what it is being programmed to believe. Although the memory part of the brain (which provides a person’s personality) is divided, other parts of the brain function intact.

Is this what inspired Isa’s story? MK Ultra is intimately connected to Satanic Ritual Abuse, according to the testimony of many survivors. Mind control experiments were alleged to be performed on children in connection with Satanism (and other churches). For example Michael Aquino, the founder of the Temple of Set, has a very dark history filled with ritual child sex abuse allegations, going back to the 1970′s.

The Moonchild rituals are the rituals to demonize a fetus. However, the demons that are invoked are not the small ones, but very powerful ones. In working with victims of this programming, it is clear that high level demons were placed within these people at very early ages. It is believed many of them were demonized before they were born by rituals like the Moonchild rituals.

Blood sacrifices and human sacrifices are always required for this level of magic. Aleister Crowley (1875-1947) was a Satanist who was a 33rd degree Scottish Rite Freemason. He also was a leader in a number of other Masonic rites as well as an OTO leader, a chief in Stella Matutina, and a MI-6 (Br. overseas intelligence) agent. His writings have been important within 20th century Satanism and with black magicians. He wrote Moonchild, first published in 1917.

If Isa was Subject X, what does that say about him? He was kidnapped as a young teen. He has an X symbolizing death on his forehead. He gets a heart fragment of a cult leader implanted inside of him. He develops amnesia afterwards. Isa is the fictional equivalent of a kidnapped and demonically-possessed child victim of Satanic Ritual Abuse.

The goal was to produce the “Moonchild” – a being who embodies physically a spirit deity, but not inhabited by a human soul. This being is also referred to as a “Magical Child” (essentially designed to manifest an individual incarnation of the archetypal divine feminine called Babalon). The process draws heavily from rituals and magick that Crowley derived from The Babylonian Ishtar and the “Great Whore” from the biblical “Book of Revelation.”

The idea of the Moonchild is that by use of black magic, a perfect soul can be captured. The belief in reincarnation, which is prevalent among the Illuminati and Satanic groups, lends itself to the belief that souls compete for a particular embryo. On page 107- 108 of Moonchild, the idea is expressed, “To produce a man who should not be bound up in his heredity, and should have the environment which they desired for him.”

And Isa was seen as special. He was dubbed “X” for a reason.

This perfect soul in a proper person is called Homunculus. The actual rituals carried out to create a Moonchild are described in detail in three of Crowley’s writings. A vague description of the rituals can be seen by reading the book Moonchild. The ritual took place at a villa nicknamed The Butterfly Net. The villa was really an occult temple laid out in sacred geometrics. It had figures of satyrs, fauns, and nymphs. It had statues of Artemis. Lots of silver objects and crescents and 9-pointed stars were at the villa, because these objects all relate to the Moon in magic. The moon’s influence was repeatedly invoked. A small triangular silver altar to Artemis was used. Prayers were made to Artemis, and there was the reenactment of the capture of Diana by Pan.

And he does have a weapon named “Artemis”. Yikes.

Another better way of looking at what happens is to understand that the part of the brain that records personal memory–that is the personal history memory section, is divided up into little pieces by amnesia walls built to protect itself from the repeated traumas. Each section is walled off from another section by amnesia. Each trauma has an amnesia wall built around it. Each trauma memory is sectioned off. That walled off section is a piece of memory that will be identified, and a hypnotic cue attached by the programmers that will pull it up to the conscious mind. And further, if the programmers so desire, it can be given a history, a name, a job, and developed into a full-blown personality.

The programming is not designed to damage these areas, only to control what emotions they contain are linked in memory to the various memory fragments that will be made into personalities. The reticular formation is the location of the brain’s mechanism which determines the state of consciousness all the way from alert, to hypnotic trance, to sleep, to coma. It interacts with the frontal lobes and the rest of the brain. Each memory is a function of several parts of the brain working together.

This all fits into the “bits and pieces of something whole” theme of A Fragmentary Passage was supposed to revolve around.

“Well, it’s a break, in a sense… Xemnas also went out, you see.”

“Hmm… it’s rare for him to go out,” Luxord said, quietly, tidying the cards.

“No, he goes here and there fairly often. Because now is a very important time for the organisation.”

“What’s very important?” Axel asked, peering into Xigbar’s face.

“The world is moving. We’ve gotta be worried about own fragment’s movement, right?”

“Fragment?” Luxord leaned his head to one side.

“The rest is a secret,” said Xigbar, teasingly, getting off the table and starting to walk. “Be really careful not to let them use you.”

At Xigbar’s words, Axel and Luxord looked at each other.

This is a really interesting part of the Short Stories novel. Xigbar is privy to something going on, while Axel and Luxord are not. And it involves a “fragment”. This was no doubt supposed to foreshadow A Fragmentary Passage. They had ideas for that story planned all the way back when the KH2 Novels were written. It sucks that we’ll never know what it’s all about.

When a Monarch slave sees an hour glass they may switch, but basically it is a reminder that the slave masters have the power to run a person’s time out. One slave was told, “The sand that sifts through the hourglass is a measure of your worthiness to live or die.” The hour glass shape is basically two triangles which touch at their peaks, or an X configuration with the tops of the X having lines.

Young Xehanort’s Keyblade has an hourglass keychain. Master Xehanort switched to Isa to attack Lea at the end of KH3D.

We can practice unconditional love, peace and Harmlessness. This helps to integrate and heal our Fragments to unify, as well as neutralize any Negative Emotional Energy in the environment. When we stop feeding the energy reversals, they are gradually taken offline. When we can hold compassionate witnessing and refuse to be triggered into negative emotional states, we are refusing to be manipulated and siphoned by the negative entities. Additionally, truly empathic and unconditionally loving humans may also gain the spiritual power to recollect and transit the consciousness Fragments of sacrificed children and traumatized people that are trapped in the earth realms, and this is an important service we can do to help heal the earth.

Furthermore, the concept of soul fragmentation and soul retrieval is big in various esoteric and New Age circles. They believe they can help child victims of Satanic Ritual Abuse and mind control, who are trapped in the earth’s astral realms. Isa’s character seems largely inspired by this concept. Which I must say, is incredibly unique. I’ve never seen another character with a story like that. It’s very cool and extremely fascinating and I have to give Nomura and the writers credit.

Ceremonies

Beltaine with hunts of slaves, fire festivals, and blood rituals

Bride of Satan Ceremony

Demon revels

Drawing down the moon

Druid Feast Day on Jan. 1

Duels to the death like gladiators where the heart is cut out and eaten

Grail Mass, the Grand Climax human sacrifice & sex rituals

Invocation of Hecate as Crone

Lammas sabbat where a female is sacrificed

Pathworking (done before 16 with Cabalistic Tree of Life pathways.)

Rite of Deification Rod of Light ceremony (consists of text from Cabala, black candles, ram’s horn blown, and victim’s mother’s name sounded)

Sealing ceremony at 19 yrs. for Mothers of Darkness level

Secret ceremony where people paint their faces half black and half white.

Sister of Light rebirthing water ceremony (victim is bound and then pulled from water and wrapped up in linen, and a green branch is place on the chest)

St. Agnes Eve St. Bartholomew’s Day

St. Walpurgis

Summer Soltstice Orgy

A list of occult ceremonies.

Note the ceremony called “drawing down the moon”.

For those who are not familiar with occult terms the following are ritual items: Paten (the holy dish), Athame or Glaive (the knife used to sacrifice with), the wand or sceptre (an ornamental staff which represents authority & usually has an electric shock), and the censer (to distribute burning fragrance)

Xemnas’ Ethereal Blades fit the bill here. The Recusant’s Sigil is also a symbol of authority.

In upper level Illuminati slaves, Dorothy in the Oz story will represent the Mother of Darkness alters, Ozma will represent the Ruler of the Castle, and Glinda will have the Great Book of Records. The ring of Glinda gives protection.

Xemnas is the master of the castle.

‘‘I’ve come a long long way to see you” -Words to say by System to John or to person to be met. There is an endless variety of contact phrases to indicate that the right person has met the right person.

“I’ve been to see him. He looks a lot like you.”

End-time Activation Codes

Most slaves have end-time programming. When a slave is called in with end-time programming they have pages upon pages of coded messages. A number of Monarch slaves have been de-programmed enough that they began accessing and spewing out pages and pages of these activation codes. Part of a sample of one of these is as follows:

ISRAEL IS RISING

900 BLUE BIRD PILOTS RISE

NATIONS IN PLACE

RED CHINA CALL BACK

COUNT DOWN, ACTIVATE ALEX

CIRCLE FARMS AROUND THE SQUARE

BRITISH SOLDIERS RISE

MOUNTAIN GOAT COME

EASTSIDE OF PEAK

1.7 ACTIVATE THE HOUR COMES, A. C. SON ACTIVATE

AFRICA ARISE IN NUMBERS OF 90…

A team leader will have a down line of around 4 people–which are coded red ray, yellow ray, green ray, blue ray. When the activation code hits a slave team leader during the end times, they will in turn activate their people, who in turn will have people who are team leaders and have a down line. At least two false callback alarms will be sounded (tested) before the real one.

There’s something called end-times programming. Now look at these passages from the Short Stories novel. It’s from the same story that mentioned the “fragment”.

“Won’t you keep it in moderation? It’s loud, I can’t sleep.”

“Not being able to sleep cause of the noise is kinda, well, human-like, isn’t it?” Demyx said, smiling. His hand kept moving over the strings.

“Fool. Nobodies need rest too. A terrible force is moving this world. We gotta rest to store up power.”

“The world? I dunno nothing about that. I dunno anything you members from the old days are thinking,” Demyx spat in a loud voice, continuing to play the sitar. Xaldin frowned in displeasure, and disappeared.

Demyx’s sitar continued to play.

Xaldin was privy to the same thing Xigbar was. Demyx was clearly not. Yeah, I always thought Xaldin was important in some way.

Who the hell made the neon lights in this city?

Axel looked up at the pitch dark sky.The sky of this world is completely black, with no moon or stars, like it’s pressing down.

“Where do you intend on going?”The person who calls out like they’ve been watching me all along, in a place like this. It never fails to be him.Saïx.

“Anywhere’s good, right?” Axel said, without turning around, pulling his hood over his face.

“Don’t leave this world without a mission.”

“This place is suffocating,” Axel said, as he started walking.

“…Can’t you hear the world’s screams?”

“Screams?”

Axel finally turned around, and looked up at Saïx standing on a stairway.

“The time when we should move will come soon.”

“I dunno, whatever.” Axel turned his back on Saïx, and opened a dark portal in front of him.

Saïx was privy, too. But he might just be reciting programmed code. Axel was definitely creeped out, though. Weeeeird. I can’t imagine how he felt after watching his friend get turned into a mind-controlled zombie robot. Poor Axel.

CHI (return to cult)

Chi programming uses a lot of idiosyncratic phrases, and little ditties. Some of the nursery rhymes listed in the song section will be Chi programming. Some of the Chi programming has been listed in the Alpha programming section.

This is why Xehanort is always able to find them with the X. It’s why he retrieved Isa. He had to return to the cult.

OMEGA (Internal Computers)

The Omega programming works along with an Executive Control Board (or Grand Druid Council) and Internal programmers. The Executive Control Board is associated with both numbers of the clock, and precious gems and metals such as “9 O’CLOCK GOLD”. The Beast computer can be accessed with Scripture triggers associated with the Vision of Daniel of the Beast, and its ten toes. The Ten Toes are important part of the code in some models. Program numbers on some slaves are put in by touching the third eye with the index finger and speaking the number.

Saïx was given the scar on his third eye, a new name with an X in it, and a number in the Organization. “As you flesh bears the sigil, so shall your name be known as that of a Recusant”.

The Traumatization and Torture of The Victim

The basis for the success of the Monarch mind-control programming is that different personalities or personality parts called alters can be created who do not know each other, but who can take the body at different times. The amnesia walls that are built by traumas, form a protective shield of secrecy that protects the abusers from being found out, and prevents the front personalities who hold the body much of the time to know how their System of alters is being used.

This is no doubt what Xehanort wanted to do to Isa. Leave him completely blank for programming purposes. But Ansem intervened and restored his memories.

As a child begins its programming, it is monitored in a fashion similar to hospitals where charts are filled and then these charts are filed. Tests and evaluations are done regularly. Goals are set which are six month programming goals. These will say in effect, we need to accomplish this by doing a, b, c, d in the next six months.

This was probably Kairi, Lea, and Isa’s situation. Think about the notes on Subject X.

A male Monarch victim remembers a large hanger building at China Lake with a concrete floor and row after row of cages suspended from the ceiling filling the large building. One of the Programmers was dressed similar to a Catholic Priest. The electric current that ran to the cages made a hum, like an electric fence. There was a marble slab that served as an altar where black-hooded robed people would take a bone handled knife and sacrifice little children in front of the other children in the cages.

Would explain the cages. Organization XIII is actually really disturbing and horrifying if you think about it. It’s basically a Satanic Cult.

Along with the suicide programs that can be triggered are programs that jerk the victim’s mind every which way, which include: Bee Stinging Program (put in by placing the drugged victim being near large swarms of bees humming & then letting a bee(s) sting the victim). Cutting programs are often hidden behind the Bee Swarming program.

One of Xigbar’s weapons is named “Killer Bee”. Did he give Isa the scar? Would NOT surprise me one bit.

The primary important factor for the trauma-based mind-control is the ability to disassociate. It was discovered that this ability is passed genetically from generation to generation.

A sense of time & a sense of self are attached to autobiographical memories–these things are stripped of an alter as it functions within the programming. Memory storage is also linked to the brain’s state of mind at the time. Hormones released at the time of an experience will modulate the strength of the memory of that experience. The limbichypothalamic system of the brain (which consists of the amygdala, hippocampus, cingulate gyrus, fornix, septum, certain nuclei of the thalamus, and the Papez circuit) has a central modulating part which interacts with peripheral hormones. Peripheral epinephrine will be released if the amygdala is electrically stimulated. The adrenal medulla releases epinephrine that is vital for memory storage. In other words, there are hormones which help the brain remember or not.

The experiments were all about getting a subject to renounce their sense of self.

The mind of the victim is not only divided from itself, but the very process of torture, makes the victim distrustful of humans in general. On top of this distrust, the programmers will layer in programming to isolate the person from healthy relationships, which in turn increases the victim’s feeling of helplessness. They are divided from their own parts (their own self) and the world in general.

Yeah, Isa needed the power of waking. Badly. This is why the story left such a bad taste in my mouth, and why I complain so much about it. Isa was kidnapped and forcefully inducted into a Satanic cult as child, through use of mind control techniques. It just infuriates me that poor Isa was not rescued from this disgusting shit! I could never consider that a good ending. Fuck no.

#kh theories #kh3 theory #anti-kh3 #kh kairi #kh lea #kh isa #kh axel #kh saix #kh meta #kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts 3 meta

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sanrionharbor-blog · 5 years

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Thoughts on Sansa S8 Endgame

Speculations galore! Long post ahoy!

Let’s run through every possibility I can think of for the end of show-Sansa’s story (and yes, there will be many more possibilities besides these because GOT is layers upon layers, man, I’m still new to the fandom, and there’s probably a lot I’ve missed).

At the very least, let’s do this categorically.

Dead, Alive, or a Fate Worse Than Death?

1. I’d bet money that Sansa survives the whole dang thing

2. But if she does die…it could be A) Sacrifice to save Arya, Jon, and/or Bran, B) in a possible collapse of Winterfell, C) after ensuring the demise of Cersei or a similar threat, D) something worthy of a song

3. Crack Theory: Sansa Becomes the Night Queen?

Shipping...

1. Let’s start with the most popular ship: Jonsa. While I’m not personally a Jonsa fan, I neither hate it nor see it as a complete impossibility. And while I’m not personally a Jonerys fan, I neither hate it nor see it as a no-brainer. Jonsa makes sense practically (uniting Targ and Stark, North & South; they already trust one another; cousin marriage isn’t considered incest in-universe, etc.), though I’m not entirely convinced if the show goes this direction that it would be the most romantic ship ever. The best I see is that it has vibes similar to Ned/Cat when they were first married to one another; they didn’t love each other romantically at first, but it would come with time. As for political!Jon Theory making this ship possible, while I wouldn’t completely put it past the GOT universe to make Jon that cold, it honestly doesn’t jive with what I think is at the core of Jon: which is a hardscrabble sort of nobility, decency, honesty. I mean, if he was politcal!Jon, wouldn’t he have come up with a smoother way to handle Cersei in their first meeting? Anyhoot, the ship isn’t hateful. I think the biggest obstacles are the fact that, even though they are technically cousins, they were raised as brother and sister. You don’t just erase that. This is somewhat “remedied” by the fact that they were never close and Sansa pretty much treated him as a whole-lot-less-than-a-brother for most of their childhood. But GOT has never shown incestuous relationships (again, I don’t really consider historically based cousin relationships as incestuous, but it is a close family bond never-the-less) as a good thing. At all. The Targ’s went mad; Dany’s brother was creepy as fudge; UMM Jaime x Cersei dear Lord; Craster and his Merry Brood, etc. (But this mainly just spells doom for Jonerys, IMHO). So, as with anything in GOT--it’s possible, it’s also not possible, there’s undertones, but there’s undertones for the complete opposite thing happening, etc. Lastly, as for the “romantic framing” of S7, I think it falls under that same maybe/maybe-not. I LOVE Jon and Sansa’s dynamic, even if I don’t see it as romantic, even if does or does not end up romantic. It is certainly one thing: intimate. And the framing (forehead kiss, bittersweet reunion, worrying for one another’s safety) supports that at the very least. If they don’t end up romantically, Jon is the last real strong male relative that Sansa has. That’s not to diss Bran, but D&D have made him a remote magical old man stuck in a teenager’s body. In some ways, he’s dead to Sansa too (as Meera said, “You died in that cave.”). The poetry, the irony, is that the people Sansa had the most problems with in her family (Arya and Jon) are all that Sansa has left now (yes, yes, I love Bran, but again he’s acting more like a solo unit than a family unit at this point)--and she realizes how much they’ve always meant to her. Jon, and Arya for that matter, are different sides of Sansa, just as she is a different side for each of them. The parallels are lovely, and this ship could very well set sail.

2. My personal favorite: Sanrion (Sansa x Tyrion, Tyrion x Sansa, whatever the preferred parlance is). Yes, I’m biased, so this entry will be the longest--BUT, let’s remove my shipper goggles. This, to me, is just as possible as Jonsa. That is, I don’t see it as guaranteed at all, but there’s plenty to read from the text. Let’s get the trouble spots out of the way: 1) the build-up has been few and far in-between since S4 (though they did throw us a bone in S7). 2) the 50/50 chance of Tyrion dying in S8 (no, I’m not basing this on “leaks,” interviews, or what-not--I’m just using this as a baseline guess, given that this is GOT and given that Tyrion is at the center of a very dangerous web of relationships), 3) the show possibly not wanting to ask a twentysomething actress and a nearly 50-year-old actor to act out anything deliberately romantic (however, I don’t expect an on-screen ship to be anything but unconventionally romantic--I very much see it being done with subtle dialogue, color theory, ambiguous looks, an epilogue, etc), and 4) Tyrion may or may not be in love with Daenerys. None of these trouble spots spells doom for me. The greatest “doom” is simply Sansa ending up alone (thematically possible) or with someone else (also thematically possible). Let’s break down counter-points to the trouble spots, then I’ll list my reasons why this ship could sail. 1) Almost all relationships in GOT are troubled and/or unconventional, built up over one season, hidden underneath layers of symbolism, or suffer from the fact that one or both partners are either dead or seperated (by this same token, Sansa’s other popular ships, Jonsa and Sansan, also suffer the same dearth of “development” or copious screen time. Arguably, Jonsa’s foundations were mostly built over the later seasons), 2) yeah, Tyrion could die (and I would be heartbroken but not blindsided) or Tyrion could live (but I would bet money that Sansa lives through the whole thing), 3) the show already put them through the most awkward phase of their “relationship” (i.e., their wedding night, though it was toned down compared to the books) and they can still sell this relationship in any number of ways (again, dialogue, color theory, looks, just holding hands again geez Louise), 4) Tyrion’s “love” for Daenerys is incredibly debatable and may only be used as fuel for a soap opera plot that I really hope doesn’t happen, but even the director of the S7 finale said Tyrion’s main concern was political and Dinklage proposed the idea that Tyrion only “think he’s in love” with Dany, that what most people feel for Dany is awe (I’m neither a Dany fan or hater, but it’s hard to deny that she’s shocking, enthralling, powerful, attractive, a force, for lack of a better term). Now, on to the practical/thematical reasons why I think this ship would work. Let’s use letters for this, haha. A) Fairy Tale parallels/Turning Tropes Upside Down: It’s easy to read inversions of fairy tale archetypes into Sansa’s storyline, as that is what her character is naturally drawn to: songs, princesses, true love, beauty. So far in the story she has learned that looks can be deceiving; life is not a song (though I wouldn’t be surprised if GRRM turns this on its head again, and Sansa simply learns that all great tales involve sorrow and darkness as well as joy and light--i.e., bittersweet vs. simply sweet); people are not black and white (Tyrion shows her that the Lannisters aren’t necessarily all evil and Littlefinger shows her that allies, even someone who loved her mother, are not necessarily all good); etc. Just some of the fairy tales/tropes that play into Sansa’s personal storyline and the subtext of Sansa x Tyrion include: Beauty and the Beast, Psyche and Cupid, Hades and Persephone, The Princess in the Tower archetype, and many, many more (I’ll meta about it one of these days--and there are already many excellent posts under the Sansa tag that expound on these). B) The Queen Elizabeth Theory: So Sansa has parallels with two remarkable historical Queen Elizabeths: Elizabeth of York and Queen Elizabeth I. Since this has been said by so many before, here’s a quote and link to the article as summary: “The show is based off the War of the Roses, the real-life family feud between the Lancasters and Yorks that ended with the two broods combining their houses. Since the storyline happening at the end of season seven is extremely similar to this moment in history, we can infer that GoT will follow that path...” Link C) Character Actions Written Especially For the Show: Just to name a few: GRRM purposely changed a moment in the books to where Sansa hands Tyrion a cup instead of him having to crawl underneath a table to do so; Tyrion remains loyal to his wedding vows (and this is probably inspired by his trauma for having killed his father and lover as well) even when it was very possible that Sansa had left him high-and-dry and the marriage was, in Tyrion’s own words, a “sham marriage”; Sansa and Tyrion both stick up for one another’s character, etc., and D) Also, aren’t they technically married? :-p [There’s a lot more, but again, I’ll save that for a future meta]

3. Sansan: While there may end up being a slight possibility in the books, I don’t think show-Sansa and show-Sandor are heading in this direction. However, the same fairytale motifs play into play here: Beauty and the Beast, Hades and Persephone, etc. Also, bridge4 over on Youtube has a fabulous analysis of the “unKiss” over on his channel, which I think could pop up in some shape or form in S8. Here’s the link

4. Sansa Alone: Also supports the Queen Elizabeth theory. Specifically, Elizabeth I “the Virgin Queen.” This would a different form of poetry/irony: Sansa, the one who wanted most to be a queen consort and be married to a handsome king and have babies, ends up as a queen (full-stop) but leverages her power as a single lady. Not my favorite ending for Sansa, as I’m Teh Unabashed Romantic, but it’s plausible, thematic, pragmatic. Only time will tell!

The Fate of the North, Night King, Direwolf Theorizing

Just spitballing various takes:

1. The war is “won” (as in mankind survives), but Winterfell or possibly the entire North is compromised. As in, perhaps they have to trade the North to the Winter King at the promise he won’t invade the rest of Westeros. Or Winterfell explodes, so the North and all of Westeros is saved but the Starks lose their home

2. The Starks deliberately blow up Winterfell, for any number of reasons. Perhaps a bunch of wights or what-nots ended up there. Perhaps the dead in the Crypts were resurrected, and this was the only way to neutralize that threat. Or something deeper and darker lurks in the Crypts, something worse than the Night King. In fact….

3. Maybe the true enemy ends up being something awoken within the Crypts of Winterfell, and the Night King is not what he seems….

4. The old gods play an unexpected role

5. The godswood is burned or ends up in splinters or is used to create a new throne (ending the age of iron, fire, blood and making this a “time for wolves”)

6. Sansa’s direwolf Lady is resurrected (of course, poor Lady is headless…) and manages to wound Cersei (if she gets her arse up north, which seems unlikely) before Cersei’s killed by whoever the heck the Valonquar is

7. Speaking of, could Ghost be the Valonquar? I mean, he was the runt, the littlest brother of the brood. Eh, dunno. I just don’t expect the Valonquar to be anything close to what we think he/she/it/them is.

8. I like the idea of parts of the ocean being permanently frozen over because of something the Night King does. Dunno why. I don’t think there’s any foreshadowing to that in the show; it just sounds cool, and represents a permanent consequence to the land. Because I do not expect there to be zero consequence for the landscape of Westeros itself. The Greyjoy’s are already kinda sorta doomed (with eunuch Theon being the last male of that line, unless Euron’s got a kid somewhere and he ends up surviving to take the throne and not be a dick about it), so it’d be a bit of tragic poetry if their islands, their seas were frozen and lifeless but thanks to their efforts the rest of Westeros is safe and their people will have to make a life on land

9. One or both remaining dragons are frozen for all timez

10. Sansa becomes Queen in the North or Queen of the Seven Kingdoms (is there really an in-between?)

Bonus

Lastly, here’s just an observation on an important part of Sansa’s storyline and character development: Arya Stark. I believe Sansa and Arya adopted different pieces of the original storylines in GRRM’s book proposal outline--not that I put much stock in the outline. Sansa was created, at first, to add tension to the Stark family. GRRM says he was surprised by Sansa’s developments; he also says he empathizes with whichever character he is currently writing, so I think he just naturally found things that he liked in Sansa that made her more than a complication device. Because his original vision included Arya as the sole Stark daughter, I wouldn’t be surprised if Sansa and Arya aren’t the result of this once singular character being developed into two very different ways. The archetypal Amazon Wild Child and the Princess in the Tower. Two sides of the same coin--or, in Ned’s words, Sansa is the sun to Arya’s moon and vice-versa. For this reason, I don’t put it past Sansa to continue developing her personal brand of Brave Northern Lady and Arya developing her personal brand of Brave Northern Lady. Because that is what they both are: brave, northern, ladies. Will Sansa find herself at the center of a love triangle? I really, really hope not, but at this point if it is gonna happen I find it much more likely with Sansa than with Arya.

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timeagainreviews · 6 years

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The formation of planets and characters

Hey friends! First of all, I would like to say thank you for the positive response over my female Doctor article! I’ve been thinking I want to do more articles that aren’t reviews. I have a few in mind, but of course, in due time. And speaking of due time, this is well overdue! I think in some ways, I was staving off having to do “Marco Polo,” as it’s the first reconstruction. Ugh. I’ve also been kinda busy lately. I got a new sewing machine! Now to learn to sew…

Carole Ann Ford is an interesting actor. When I first watched the original Doctor Who, I found Susan to be rather grating. Her constant screaming and melting down was a source of frustration for me. But through this second watch through, I’ve come to see Susan as a sort of entry point. In a lot of ways, she’s a cypher through which the audience experiences the world of Doctor Who. But in many ways, she too is an enigma. Even her last name, Foreman, is a lie. Being both accessible, and aloof makes her as interesting (if not more) as the Doctor.

When I first watched "The Edge of Destruction," I was fresh off the rather over-long Dalek serial preceding it. The idea of a short two-parter was a welcome change in pace. What I was surprised to find, however, was something far more interesting than a 'short trip.' The Edge of Destruction was very possibly my first true favourite story from classic Doctor Who, and it was all because of Susan.

There’s not much plot to be had in the story. At the end of "The Daleks," the TARDIS console sparks, and everyone goes out like a light. The music is ominous and mechanical as we pan across the scene. Down on the cold floor of the TARDIS lies our friends, still unconscious from last week’s cliffhanger. Barbara wakes Ian and Susan, but the Doctor lies unconscious with a gash on his head. They all seem to have amnesia and are acting strangely.

This episode has two examples of some of my favourite early Who tech. The bandage Susan retrieves for the Doctor is infused with medicinal ointments. When the ointment has faded from the bandage, the would has healed. There’s something kind of wonderful about that. We also get a brief appearance from my beloved food machine. Susan uses it to get the Doctor a glass of water, one of two liquids the food machine is capable of producing. The other being milk. What kind of milk do they drink on Gallifrey? Is it Time Cow milk? Do their burgers regenerate?

This episode gives us a lot of the TARDIS, really. Part of what made early Who so great was that it yearned to establish things like a mythology and character development. They didn’t just want to put any crap on the screen to fill a time slot. There’s a real workmanlike storytelling happening here, and it shows. Something I’ve always felt was rather unfortunate is how little of a part the TARDIS actually plays in most Doctor Who stories. Most of the time, it’s simply a way to get the Doctor and his friends from place to place. In some ways, I understand this. You’d want to avoid any deus ex machina moments. However, the TARDIS could also be utilised in other ways, such as a setting, or like in "The Ghost Monument," where it becomes a sort of relic. There are many aspects of the TARDIS to explore, and this story does that. Part of the TARDIS that we’re shown is one we seldom ever see in Doctor Who- the sleeping quarters, where Susan is brought after being shocked by the TARDIS console.

It’s not just the crew that is acting strange, the TARDIS seems to be on the fritz as well. The doors keep trying to open and shut. The console is shocking anyone who gets near it. Barbara is tending to the now awake Doctor, while Ian takes Susan to rest. As I said, Susan really seems to carry this episode, and for me, it’s because she’s genuinely frightening at moments. Our lovable friend is growing paranoid. She seems to think some sort of alien threat is onboard. Brandishing the rather large pair scissors she used to cut the Doctor’s bandage, she stabs at Ian, narrowly missing him.

There’s a terrible nature to Susan’s demeanour. It’s hard to tell if this is how Susan would react to a real threat, or if her responses are equally as heightened. She stabs at the bed in a fit of rage and confusion. As a visual, it’s genuinely creepy. Ian stumbles his way into the console room to help the Doctor solve their dilemma. Susan has collapsed in a fit on her bed, dropping the scissors.

The three adults discuss various theories. Barbara wonders if it’s not some sort of person, or thing sabotaging the TARDIS. The Doctor calls this theory "ridiculous." The Doctor suspects it’s a mechanical issue. Since he can’t check the TARDIS console, he checks the fault locator, which may be one of the most on the nose contraptions in sci-fi history. It’s probably located right next to the plot device, you know, for navigation purposes. Barbara suggests she go check on Susan. Ian warns her not to alarm Susan about the idea of something being onboard. Susan overhears this. Already paranoid about the idea of an external influence, she squirrels away the scissors in her robe and returns to bed. Ian goes to help the Doctor with the fault locator, but its readings are normal. No fault can be found.

If I’ve not said how much I love Barbara already, let me do so now. She’s such a kind and caring person. She’s aware Susan is wary of her, yet she tends to her rather selflessly. She applies a damp cloth to her forehead hoping to soothe her. In many ways, Barbara has a very motherly strength that I find very endearing. Susan, however, is not buying it. She thinks Barbara and Ian are both lying to her. Everything about her demeanour is indicative of paranoia. She’s wrapped up in her robe like a cocoon, arms and legs crossed. She speaks directly in clipped sentences. In a lot of ways, I believe this may be some of Carole Ann Ford’s best acting in the role.

Barbara notices that the scissors are missing and asks Susan to give them to her, causing her to wield them once again. Susan demands answers, she knows they lied to her about the supposed alien onboard. Barbara manages to get the scissors from her. The TARDIS has become something foreign to Susan. It no longer feels like home. The shadows seem more mysterious and dangerous without the sounds of the TARDIS to accompany them. She suspects that perhaps the alien onboard has found a way into one of the people onboard. She runs out of the room toward the Doctor.

The Doctor and Susan discuss how the console only seemed to attack the two of them, adding to their paranoia toward Ian and Barbara. The Doctor is able to use the console to turn on the scanner. Oddly, it doesn’t shock him or render him unconscious. Hopefully, the scanner can show them their location, and maybe shed a little light on their current predicament. The image on-screen shows a peaceful meadow, but the Doctor claims it’s impossible. The doors begin to open and close again. A strange groaning, like a large beast, is heard as bright white light pours into the TARDIS.

Another location flashes onto the screen, "Quinnis of the Fourth Universe," an alien terrain rather unlike any meadow. The Doctor reminds them that this was a location they had visited several adventures ago. This is pre-Totter’s Lane. The TARDIS records their journeys into its memory banks. Another image appears onscreen, a planet in a galaxy which appears to explode in a flash of light. The Doctor believes Ian and Barbara have sabotaged the ship as a means to make him return them to 1963 London. He even goes as far as to accuse them of knocking Susan and him unconscious, which causes Barbara to go off on him. She’s had it with this old man’s attitude. As far as she’s concerned, he should be kissing their feet for all of the times they saved his skin. She storms away but is stopped suddenly as she screams in fright.

What happens next is genuinely confusing. As I watched this scene with my partner, we had no clue what was actually happening. Something about the ormolu clock onboard the TARDIS has changed, but it’s not exactly evident as to what it is. I actually had to look it up online. Due to the ornate design of the clock, and the quality of the picture, it’s really hard to tell, but something has melted the clock face. Whatever the force is, has also melted their watches, because… time? I guess? Barbara chucks her watch across the TARDIS in a fit. Poor Barbara, someone get this woman a Mai Tai.

During all of this strangeness, the Doctor comes back with some nightcaps for everyone. It’s not exactly a Mai Tai, but it’s a welcome respite from wall to wall paranoia. Barbara and Susan take their nightcaps and retire to bed. Ian staggers behind to admonish the Doctor for his treatment of Barbara, but the Doctor isn’t hearing it. What comes next is one of my favourite First Doctor lines. Ian tells the Doctor that he struggles to keep pace with him, to which the Doctor replies- "You mean to keep one jump ahead. That you will never be!" Basically, this is the Doctor’s essence rendered into a single sentence. Sadly, he’s chosen the wrong enemies in Ian and Barbara. It seems that as more of the medicine from the bandage on his head fades, the more of his cognition returns. But the Doctor says he needs sleep more than he needs to feel sorry.

Overhearing the Doctor and Ian’s conversation, Susan begins to feel guilty about her behaviour. She apologises to Barbara for the Doctor’s harsh words. Barbara seems to be okay with Susan at this point, but it’s evident she’s still angry with the Doctor. Soon everyone but the Doctor is asleep. It’s made pretty evident that the Doctor has drugged the Time Cow milk. With everyone asleep, he wrings his hands in a mercurial manner and goes off to fiddle with the TARDIS console, only to be choked by a pair of hands.

This is of course where the first episode ends. We’re led to believe that the hands are this supposed external antagonist, but they turn out to be Ian. The struggle is short lived as Ian faints and falls to the ground. Evidently, sleep is just not a thing that is not possible on the ship, as everyone slowly turns up. The Doctor is now sure it’s sabotage on Ian and Barbara’s behalf, but Barbara defends Ian. Susan, as if she hadn’t just apologised to Barbara is suddenly back on Team Doctor, but it’s just as short-lived when the Doctor claims he plans on treating the two as enemies. Susan begins playing the impartial detective. At this point, her logic is more reliable than the Doctor’s paranoia. Despite the fact that they couldn’t have done all of the things that have happened, the Doctor decides he must throw them off the ship.

Before he can do this, the fault indicator lets off a terrible alarm. It appears the entire TARDIS is out of order. While this is going on, Ian tries to strangle Barbara this time, which causes the Doctor to realise that he’s not acting within his right mind. If Ian and Barbara were working together, then why would he attack her? The combination of the sleeping drugs, and whatever is going on has made Ian delirious. He wasn’t trying to strangle anyone, he was trying to keep the Doctor and Barbara both from touching the console. This, mixed with the fact that the TARDIS is on the verge of disintegration has brought the Doctor back to his senses.

No longer believing there is an evil entity onboard, and that they haven’t crash landed, the Doctor must discover what kind of powerful force could push the TARDIS to the point of destruction. The force manages to push the column on the console up momentarily. The force could destroy the TARDIS if the column were to dislodge. What comes next is a rather confusing trail of logic. Basically, Barbara deduces that all of the strange occurrences have actually been the TARDIS’ way of alarming the crew that the fault is not within the machine itself, but in their own thinking. It’s one of the earliest indications that the TARDIS has a sort of mind of its own, something which even the Doctor has a hard time believing, but it turns out to be true. I particularly like this moment because it’s Barbara who figures it out, not the Doctor. It gives her indignation toward him even more gravity.

A faulty spring on the fast return switch has caused the button to stick, pushing the TARDIS further and further back through time, to the formation of a solar system. Since the fault locator wouldn’t see the pressing of a button as a fault, it didn’t show up on its readings. The TARDIS, however, is a thinking machine, and therefore was trying to speak to them in the only way it knew how. By showing them the sequence of the meadow, to a primitive planet, to an unformed planet, to a forming solar system, to a blinding flash was the TARDIS relaying the idea that they are fast heading toward a Big Bang level event. The TARDIS’s defence systems have been keeping it in a sort of time loop to protect them from the bang.

William Hartnell gets one of the best monologues of his tenure during this scene. The lights go dark as if the Doctor were the only person onstage. The camera pulls in on his face slowly as he waxes romantic about the formation of stars and planets. He delights at this celestial dance occurring as if the very cosmos flow through his blood. With a distant look in his eye, he’s almost eerie, but there’s an undertone of veneration that intimates a kind of natural endowment. The Doctor is more than a curmudgeon. There exists within him, a calling toward the vastness of the universe. This is an important moment for his character development because he’s not just irascible, he’s more than clever- he’s something special.

Conversely, Barbara is less than pleased with the Doctor. With the threat now out of the way, we’re given a moment for some character development on both her and the Doctor’s parts. Realising he’s been wrong, the Doctor apologises to Ian and Barbara, but Barbara isn’t as open to forgiveness. This causes the Doctor to have to swallow his pride and admit his wrongdoing. He gives her some warm clothes for their next adventure, adding that they need to take care of her as she’s very important. She appears to accept his apology as the two of them walk arm and arm out of the TARDIS into a snowy climate. Susan marvels at the enormity of a footprint left in the snow, which the camera holds on as the credits begin to roll. It’s all very ominous, as per usual.

Final Thoughts: My initial reaction to this story was enjoyment, and that hasn’t swayed much. It’s easy to get the feeling that most of the narrative choices were made because it was cheaper to film on a set they didn’t have to build anew, with no extra actors to pay. It’s the essential bottle episode, but I would say it’s an effective one. Two episodes are really as far as you can stretch this story, and it wisely doesn’t overstay its welcome. There were a few unintended confusing moments, due to either bad effects or vague writing, but in the end, you come away understanding what’s happened. A lot of the serial hinges on the performances of the actors. Everyone, especially Jacqueline Hill and Carole Ann Ford elevated the script. I can’t imagine it’s very easy to maintain a performance that requires constant shifts in emotion, but they sell it. On a production level, they do a surprising amount with very little. In many ways, it’s early Doctor Who condensed. The basic fundamentals of filmmaking are on display- mood lighting, sound ambience, and performance. While the events of the story don’t affect much, the character development makes this serial a must watch. And at only two episodes, it’s not much of a sacrifice!

#doctor who #the edge of destruction #william hartnell #jacqueline hill #william russell #carole ann ford #first doctor #ian chesterton #barbara wright #susan foreman #ian and barbara #tardis #bbc #time and time again

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