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potteresque-ire · 3 years

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Hiya! I've only just started watching Chinese dramas and the drama behind the drama is already blowing my Western mind. Thanks for your meta btw! I was thinking about what you said about Chinese government not explicitly banning anything, rather people had BETTER catch on to what they mean 😨 Is it possible that delaying OOL is their way of warning future productions to think twice before involving Xiao Zhan, because they want to undermine his popularity? As he is 'too entertaining' 💀

Hiya Anon!! The decision to air a c-drama lies in both the government and the platforms. Once the drama gets the distribution permit from the National Radio and Television Administration (NRTA), it's up to the platforms to schedule the airing date.

The distribution permit for OOL was issued in May 2020, and so the government cleared it for airing a while ago. And so, it is the platforms that are holding the airing date back.

Multiple considerations go into the decision of when to air any drama. Here are some financial considerations I can think of: are there fierce competitors in the same period? It's usual for multiple c-dramas to begin airing on similar dates. The week between 2019/06/23 and 2019/06/30, for example, 9 series began airing—including The Untamed on 2019/06/27. And on that very same date, another prominent, very well-made drama also began its airing—The Longest Day in Chang'An 長安十二時辰).

And then, has a popular drama of a similar genre been aired right before? If so, it may be wise to push back the airing date a little. Is it exam period or is it summer, with students being on vacation and having more free time to watch TV, chase after their favourite idols and buy merchandises? That’s the golden season for idol dramas! Are the production studios, platforms under pressure to produce a solid profit report to their investors? Better move a series with very bankable stars then ...

Afterwards, there are, of course, political considerations. For those who may be worried about c-ent’s current upheaval, I’d like to emphasise this: the government swooping in and say, or hint, that this and that popular thing displeases its Socialist sensibilities isn’t new. Dangai isn’t the first genre to be soft-banned, for example; before that, there was the ... Imperial Harem infighting genre 宮鬥劇 (sorry for the silly translation, I don’t know what’s the proper name for it!), which was extremely popular at the time of the ban with recent hits such as The Legend of Zhen Huan 後宮甄嬛傳 and Story of Yanxi Palace 延禧攻略. There was the time travel genre 穿越劇 (For example, Scarlet Heart 步步驚心). The state criticism against “sissy” 娘炮 idols also made its former round in 2018.

And so, while there may not have been precedences where the government targets c-ent’s obsession with “traffic” 流量—a relatively new term that describes the heavy flow of social media posts, of buzz and cash surrounding a beloved something or someone, c-ent has a long history of, and ample experiences with, dealing with their government’s displeasure at something that its audience loves, that is financially lucrative for the industry and most importantly, along that line, something the industry wishes to keep.

The last point may be worth emphasising: the production studios, the platforms (streaming, social media etc), the marketing companies, the yxh, the companies who employ celebrities as their spokespeople etc etc, all of them desperately want to keep stars like Gg and Dd around. This is especially true with c-ent being in its “bitter cold winter” financially since 2018, with the tightening censorship that means hit dramas, and "top traffic” 頂流 stars, are increasingly more difficult to make or come by. “Top traffic” stars, in particular, are very attractive to the industry because their fans are (far) more willing to spend money, generate the needed buzz on social media to bring in more “passer-by” audience and in turn, more revenue, and more investment, and more endorsements and sponsorships (see: the number of Dd commercials in SDOC4).

Therefore, as fans and audience, I think it’s safe to assume this: at least on the front of wishing to protect Gg and Dd’s star status, to protect potentially popular dramas and genres such as OOL, these financial interests stand with us. Does this “saving” go against what is safe for these companies? One can say so. It would be safer for the platforms, for example, to air ... um, say, The Best Speeches by President Xi in place of dramas like OOL. The act would likely please the government very much; signal, perhaps, that the platforms have caught on its ultimate dream, with Xi being the One Idol of China. But this decision would also go against the very nature of these companies as for-profit entities, these Capitalist Existence that are traded in stock markets and are driven to make as much money and as quickly as they can.

What, then, is the easiest way to protect traffic stars like Gg and Dd, like Yang Zi 楊紫, the lead actress of OOL who is also very popular and who, reportedly, also has her own rather ... rambunctious corner of fandom? What’s the easiest way to “save” a potentially popular drama like OOL? Saying what is *the* easiest way may be difficult, but I believe I can name one easy way: to simply keep these popular people, these (potentially) popular things out of attention for a while, especially with October 1st (Communist China’s birthday) drawing near and in 2021, the year of the Chinese Communist Party’s Centennial.

After all, regulations from the Chinese government tend to come in bursts—axes falling left, right and centre for a while and in quick succession, followed by an extended period of silence (and neglect). The wait, therefore, doesn’t have to be long at all. As short as after a few month’s time, certain parts of c-ent may return to what it was like before and these c-ent companies, having had so much experience in working around situations like this, would know when that time comes, when the coast is clear.

Meanwhile, as fans, we wait. Being in i-fandom means our words and actions have relatively little effect, but if we were in China, our best action would, too, likely be similar to the platforms that delay the airing of OOL, except we cross out the the word “popular” and replace it with “beloved”: we keep our beloved people, our beloved things out of attention. We refrain from going around and complaining, no matter how much we wish to watch the show. We refrain from starting fights. We stay out of hot searches. The Chinese government is bureaucratic and corruption is rampant, which means often times, the higher-ups in charge of dropping the axes have little knowledge about who or what their axes are supposed to fall on, and little care if they get it wrong. In such circumstances, the key to survival is to not stick one’s head out; to make sure we don’t offer our neck, and more importantly, our favourite stars’ neck, for the axes to fall on.

It may be difficult sometimes. We’ll hear hisses, from antis, from doubters, from those who simply aren’t familiar with the situation, that will tempt us to put ourselves and our favourite stars out in the open where the axes are raining. Patience and independent thinking are important in times like this, qualities that allows us to stop, excuse ourselves from the virtual crowd and think ~ wait, is what is being said true?

The government’s attack on “traffic”, for example, together with the soft-ban on Dangai, have led to soft hisses that Gg and Dd are the targets.

I invite everyone to step back and think a little—are they?

Here’s one small, but important point that may be lost in translation (and lost, too, even in some Chinese discussions where netizens have scrolled through their feeds too quickly): in the state opinion pieces, the term used against “traffic” stars has consistently been “唯流量”, with 流量 = traffic, and 唯 = only. The presence of the character 唯 is crucial: 唯流量 are not simply “traffic”, or popular stars; they are stars with only traffic, with nothing but traffic. No acting skills, no singing or dancing skills, no other demonstrated capabilities beyond getting their fans to vote and comment and buy things for them.

Are Gg and Dd 唯流量?

Here’s Gg:

youtube

(For those who may not know: A Dream Like A Dream 如夢之夢 is not just a Chinese language play. A Chinese adjective that has been used to describe it is 殿堂級 ~ “palace hall grade”, ie, it’s a royalty. Trivia: the version in China ends with a cappella with Patient #5 singing about himself, which means Patient #5 can ruin the finale of the 8 hour show if he fails to sing well, and beautifully.)

And here’s Dd:

youtube

I think I can rest my case. My fellow turtles, what do you think?

Such rumours—that so and so, this and that are the alleged targets—are currently running rampant on Chinese social media, with almost every noteworthy celebrity and media projects etc being named by a few who dislike them. However—or rather, ironically, one may say?—because everyone and everything under the sun has been named, the net effect is not that different from if nothing has been named at all.

If a similar rumour, if more of such rumours creep onto the shores of i-fandom, therefore, please do not be afraid and remember—these speculations, these noises will most likely fade into obscurity unless the populous Gg+Dd fandom amplify it with their voices, even if theses voices are words of defence.

Silence can be a defence. Silence can be the best defence.

For the time being, with the greater sociopolitical environment being what it is, with “Capital” being reportedly targeted by the state (previously discussed here), platforms and TV stations that are part of Capital may be extra careful and temporarily keep all traffic stars out of their productions, out of sight.

But I remind myself this ~ this isn’t about Gg and Dd. This probably isn’t about 99.9% of the stars who may be temporarily kept out of these productions in the coming weeks, some of whom may have starred in Dangai. As a corollary, I find it important to remind myself that too, to think twice before wondering aloud who may be the targets, to make sure I do not, even accidentally, put any non Gg Dd star and their fans under the axes—not because my words can influence the Chinese government, but rather, because of a simple, almost cliché reason: Do not do unto others what you do not want others do unto you.

After all, one step outside fandom, people cannot tell one idol from another, cannot tell one drama from another, cannot tell cpfs from solos ...

As fans of c-ent, we’re in this together. ❤️💛💚

#pie metas

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greatfay · 3 years

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controversial opinions?

Cold pizza actually not good. Tastes like angry bacteria.

There’s a completely separate class of gay men who are in a different, rainbow-tinted plane of reality from the rest of us and I don’t like them. They push for “acceptance” via commercialization of the Pride movement, assimilation through over-exposure, and focus on sexualizing the movement to be “provocative” and writing annoying articles that reek of class privilege instead of something actually important like lgbtqa youth homelessness, job discrimination, and mental health awareness.

Coleslaw is good. You guys just suck in the kitchen.

Generational divides ARE real: a 16-year-old and a 60-year-old right now in 2021 could agree on every hot button sociopolitical topic and yet not even realize it because they communicate in entirely different ways.

Sam Wilson is a power bottom. No I will not elaborate.

Allison’s makeover in The Breakfast Club good, not bad. She kept literally and metaphorically dumping her trash out onto the table and it’s clearly a cry for help. Having the attention and affection of a smart, pretty girl doing her makeup for her was sweet and helped her open up to new experiences. Not every loner wants to BE a loner (see: Bender, who is fine being a lone wolf).

Movie/show recommendations that start with a detailed “representation” list read like status-effecting gear in an RPG and it’s actually a turn-off for me. I have to force myself to give something a try in spite of it.

Yelling at people to just “learn a new language” because clearly everyone who isn’t you and your immediate vicinity of friends must be a lazy ignorant white American is so fucking stupid, like I get it, you’re mad someone doesn’t immediately know how to pronounce your name or what something means. But I know 2 languages and am struggling with a 3rd when I can between 2 jobs and quite frankly, I don’t have the time to just absorb the entire kanji system into my brain to learn Japanese by tomorrow night, or suddenly learn Arabic or Welsh. There are 6500 recorded languages in the world, what’s the chance that one of 3 I’ve learn(ed?) is the one you’re yelling at me about. Yes this is referring to that post yelling at people for not knowing how to pronounce obscure Irish names and words. Sometimes just explaining something instead of admonishing people for not knowing something inherently in the belief that everyone must be lazy entitled privileged people is uh... better?

Stop fucking yelling at people. I despise feeling like someone is yelling at me or scolding me, it triggers my Violence Mode, you don’t run me, you are not God, fuck off. Worst fucking way to "educate” people, it just feels good in the moment to say or write and doesn’t help. Yes I’ve done it before.

Violence is good actually.

Characters doing bad things ≠ an endorsement of bad things. Characters doing bad things that are unquestioned by the entire rest of the cast = endorsement of bad things, or at the least, a power fantasy by the creator. See: Glee, in which Sue’s awfulness is constantly called out, while Mr. Shue’s awfulness rarely is because he’s “the hero.” See also: the Lightbringer series, in which the protagonist is a violent manipulator who is praised as clever, charming, diplomatic, and genius by every supporting character (enemies included), despite the text never demonstrating such.

Euphoria is good, actually. It falls into this niche of the past decade of “dark gritty teen shows” but actually has substance behind it, but the general vibe I get from passive-aggressive tumblr posts from casual viewers is that this show is The Devil, and the criticism of its racier content screams pearl-clutching “what about the children??” to me.

Describing all diagnosed psychopaths as violent criminals is a damaging slippery slope, sure. But I won’t be mad at anyone for inherently distrusting another human who does not have the ability to feel guilt and remorse, empathy, is a pathological liar, or proves to be cunning and manipulative.

It’s actually not easy to unconditionally support and love everyone everywhere when you’ve actually experienced the World. Your perspective and values will be challenged as you encounter difficult people, experience hardship, are torn between conflicting ideas and commitments, and fail. My vow to never ever call the cops on another black person was challenged when an employee’s boyfriend marched into the kitchen OF AN ESTABLISHMENT to scream at her, in a BUSINESS I MANAGED, and threaten to BEAT the SHIT out of her. Turns out I can hate cops and hate that motherfucker equally, I am more than capable of both.

Defending makeup culture bad, actually. Enjoy it, experiment, master it, but don’t paint it as something other than upholding exactly what they want from you. Even using makeup to “defy the heteropatriarchal oppressors!” is still putting cash in their pockets, no matter how camp...

Not every villain needs to be redeemed, some of you just never outgrew projecting yourself onto monsters and killers.

Writing teams and networks queerbaiting is not the same as individuals queerbaiting. Nick Jonas performing exclusively at gay clubs to generate an audience really isn’t criminal; if they paid to go see him, that’s on them, he didn’t promise anyone anything other than music and a show. Do not paint this as similar to wealthy, bigoted executives and writing teams trying to snatch up the LGBTQA demographic with vague ass marketing and manipulative screenplays, only to cop out so as not to alienate their conservative audiences. And ESPECIALLY when the artists/actors/creators accused of queerbaiting or lezploitation then come out as queer in some form later on.

Queer is not a bad word, and I’ve no clue how that remains one of few words hurled at LGBTQA people that can’t be reclaimed. It’s so archaic and underused at this point that I don’t get the reaction to it compared to others.

People who defend grown-woman Lorelai Gilmore’s childish actions and in the same breath heavily criticize teenage religious abuse victim Lane Kim’s actions are not to be trusted. Also Lane deserved better.

Keep your realism out of my media, or at least make it tonally consistent. Tired of shows and movies and books where some gritty, dark shit comes out of nowhere when the narrative was relatively Romantic beforehand.

Actually people should be writing characters different from themselves, this new wave in the past year of “If you aren’t [X] you shouldn’t be writing [X]” is a complete leap backward from the 2010s media diversity movement. And if [X] has to do with an invisible minority status (not immediately visible disabilities, or diverse sexual orientations and gender identities, persecuted religious affiliations, mental illness) it’s actually quite fucked up to assume the creator can’t be whatever [X] is or to demand receipts or details of someone’s personal life to then grant them “permission” to create something. I know, we’re upset an actual gay actor wasn’t casted to play this gay character, so let’s give them shit about it: and not lose a wink of sleep when 2 years later, this very actor comes out and gives a detailed account of the pressure to stay closeted if they wanted success in Hollywood.

Projecting an actor’s personal romantic life and gender identity onto the characters they play is actually many levels of fucked up, and not cute or funny. See: reinterpreting every character Elliot Page has played through a sapphic lens, and insulting his ability to play straight characters while straight actors play actual caricatures of us (See also: Jared Leto. Fuck him).

I’m fucking sick of DaBaby, he sucks. “I shot somebody, she suck my peepee” that’s 90% of whatever he raps about.

“Political Correctness” is not new. It was, at one point, unacceptable to walk into a fine establishment and inform the proprietor that you love a nice firm pair of tits in your face. 60 years ago, such a statement would get you throw out and possibly arrested under suspicion of public intoxication. But then something happened and I blame Woodstock and Nixon. And now I have to explain to a man 40 years my senior that no, you can’t casually mention to the staff here, many of whom are children, how you haven’t had a good fuck in a while. And then rant about the “Chinese who gave us the virus.” Can’t be that upset with them if you then refused to wear your mask for 20 minutes.

Triggering content should not have a blanket ban; trigger warnings are enough, and those who campaign otherwise need to understand the difference between helping people and taking away their agency. 13 Reasons Why inspired this one. Absolutely shitty show, sure, but it’s a choice to watch it knowing exactly what it contains.

Sasuke’s not a fucking INTJ, he’s an ISFP whose every decision is based off in-the-moment feelings and proves incapable of detailed and logical planning to accomplish his larger goals.

MCU critique manages to be both spot-on and pointless. Amazing stories have been told with these characters over the course of decades; but most of it is toilet paper. Expecting a Marvel movie to be a deeply detailed examination of American nationalism and imperialism painted with a colorful gauze of avant-garde film technique is like expecting filet mignon from McDonalds. Scarf down your quarter pounder or gtfo.

Disparagingly comparing the popularity and (marginal) success of BLM to another movement is anti-black. It is not only possible but also easy to ask for people’s support without throwing in “you all supported BLM for black people but won’t show support for [insert group]” how about you keep our name out your mouth? Black people owe the rest of the world nothing tbh until yall root out the anti-blackness in your own communities.

It is the personal demon/tragic flaw of every cis gay/bi/pan man to externalize and exorcize Shame: I’m talking about the innate compulsion to Shame, especially in the name of Pride and Progress. Shame for socioeconomic “success,” shame for status of outness, shame for fitness and health, shame for looks, shame for style and dress, shame for how one fits into the gender binary, shame for sexual positions and intimacy preferences, shame for fucking music tastes. Put down the weapon that They used to beat you. Becoming the Beater is not growth, it’s the worst-case scenario.

Works by minorities do not have to be focused on their marginalized identities. Some ladies want to ride dragons AND other ladies. The pressure on minorities to create the Next Great Minority Character Study that will inevitably get snuffed at the Oscars/Peabody Awards is some bullshit when straight white dudes walk around shitting out mediocre screenplays and books.

Canadians can stfu about how the US is handling COVID-19 actually. Love most of yall, but the number of Canadian snowbirds on vacation (VACATION??? VA.CAT.ION.) in the supposed “hotbed” of my region that I’ve had to inform our mask policies and social distancing to is ASTOUNDING. Incroyable! I guess your country has a sizable population of entitled, privileged, inconsiderate, wealthy, and ignorant people making things difficult for everyone, just like mine :)

No trick to eliminate glasses fog while wearing my mask has worked, not a single one, it actually has affected my job and work speed and is incredibly frustrating, and I have to deal with it and pretend it’s not a problem while still encouraging others to follow the rules for everyone’s safety and the cognitive dissonance is driving me insane.

It’s really really really not anti-Japanese... to be uncomfortable with the rampant pedophilia in manga and anime, and voice this. I really can’t compare western animation’s sneakier bullshit with pantyshots of a 12-year-old girl.

Most of the people in the cottagecore aesthetic/tag have zero interest in all the hard work that comes with maintaining an isolated property in the countryside, milking cows and tending crops before sunrise, etc. And that’s okay? They just like flowers and pretty pottery and homemade pastries. Idk where discourse about this came from.

You think mint chip ice-cream tastes like toothpaste because you’re missing a receptor that can distinguish the flavors, and that sucks for you. It’s a sort of “taste-blindness” that can make gum spicy to some while others can eat a ghost pepper without crying.

Being a spectacle for the oppressive class doesn’t make them respect us, it makes them unafraid of us. This means they continue to devour us, but without fear of our retaliation.

Only like 4 people on tumblr dot com are actually prepared for the full ramifications of an actual revolution. The rest of you just really imprinted onto Katniss, or grew up in the suburbs.

Straight crushes are normal. They’re people first, sexual orientation second. Can’t always know.

The road to body positivity is not easy, especially if what you desire is what you aren’t.

You’re actually personally responsible for not voluntarily bringing yourself into an environment that you know is not fit for you unless you have the resolve to manage it. Can’t break a glass ceiling without getting a few cuts. This one’s a shoutout to my homophobic temp coworkers who decided working a venue with a drag show would be a good idea. This is also is a shoutout to people who want to make waves but are surprised when the boat tips. And also a shoutout to people who—wait that’s it’s own controversial opinion hold up.

Straight people can and should stay the fuck out of gay bars and queer spaces. “yoUrE bEInG diVisiVe” go fuck yourself.

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lovehaswonangelnumbers · 4 years

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New Post has been published on https://lovehaswonangelnumbers.org/intuitive-astrology-aquarius-full-moon-august-2020/

Intuitive Astrology: Aquarius Full Moon August 2020

By Tanaaz

The Aquarius Full Moon lights up the sky on August 3-4th, 2020, welcoming us to the month and the building energies of the Lionsgate Portal.

Full Moons are always illuminating things, helping us to see a bigger truth and to expand our way of thinking.

If things have felt foggy or unclear, this Full Moon calls for us to look again, for perhaps this time, we will receive the answers we are looking for.

The planet of awakening and change, Uranus, is very active under this Full Moon.

Uranus is the ruler of Aquarius, but it is also making a square or 90-degree alignment with the Sun at the time of the Full Moon. This alignment with Uranus triggers things in our lives to feel shaky and unsteady.

We may notice things moving and shifting around us, causing us to feel uncertain and unstable. It may be hard to know what to trust and what direction to choose.

When this level of shaky uncertainty enters our life, it allows us to see what is weak and needs to fall, and what is strong. Whatever withstands the shaking remains, whatever was already weak will fall away.

This energy is not there to upset our lives, rather it is there to help us remove and let go of the things no longer meant for us.

Most of us know when it’s time to let go of something or someone, but sometimes it can be hard to do so.

The shake-up from this Full Moon will help us to gently let go of these things, and to remind us that we need not hold on in fear.

What are you holding on to out of fear? What thoughts, beliefs, people, circumstances are you gripping onto?

This Full Moon asks you to clear the way. It asks you to shake up your beliefs, your ideas, your circumstances, so you can see what needs to remain.

Under this Aquarius Full Moon energy, it is better to let things shake and fall where they may, rather than trying to control.

If we surrender and go with the flow, we can allow the Universe to show us the way with grace in our hearts.

This shaky energy from Uranus also serves another purpose – awakening our soul energy.

When things shake and rattle us, it causes us to see things in a new light and to feel differently about ourselves and the world we live in. This can trigger an awakening, and a coming into new knowledge and wisdom.

Uranus shakes us to awaken us, and to show us a new and higher path.

Uranus also rules over Kundalini energy, which is seen as a serpent that lives at the base of our spine.

When our Kundalini energy rises, as it does when we are under the presence of Uranus, the snake uncoils itself, traveling up the energy centers of the body, all the way to the top of our head and beyond.

When the snake awakens, we can learn new things, see new things, and experience life at a different frequency.

We can all activate our own Kundalini awakening under this energy by setting an intention and tuning in. This is not something we can force, but something we can allow and welcome if we feel it right to do so.

This awakening and activating energy will also be supported by the opening of the Lionsgate Portal.

The Lionsgate Portal opens every year and peaks by August 8th, however the energy will already be brewing at the time of this Full Moon.

As the Sun reaches the peak of Leo Season and we have Sirius, our Spiritual Sun high in the sky, Lionsgate is activated, sending messages, downloads, and insights to Earth.

The August Full Moon will help to illuminate these energies as they grow, and if we tune in, we may start receiving downloads, intuitive wisdom, or even new ideas and inspirations to guide us on our way.

This is beautiful energy to tap into, and one that can advance us further on our path.

If you have questions, if you are looking for new wisdom, if you want to stretch your mind to new heights, reach higher under the light of this Full Moon.

Open yourself to the energy and allow information to flood in. Very often on a Full Moon, we like to dictate what we wish to release or call in, but this energy calls for us to get still and enter a place of allowing.

If we quiet our mind, and reach beyond our knowing, we may find new information and downloads easier to receive.

We all have the power to receive these downloads, so go out under the light of the Moon. Look at it shining bright in the sky. Ask for it to bring you wisdom; ask for it to send its ancient messages straight into your being.

Open to the downloads you receive, trust your abilities, and be patient if things start to move and shake.

As we shake, we let go of the things no longer meant for us, we clear out things that were weak and crumbling.

After the pieces have landed where they may, we will feel renewed, restored, and awakened with a greater knowing of who we are and where we need to be.

******

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narumi-gens · 6 years

Text

Weary Hearts Dazai Osamu/Reader Chapter 3 - Out of the Frying Pan

Read on AO3.

Dazai felt lighter than air as he walked through the bustling Yokohama street. With a small folder under his arm and what could only be described as a spring in his step, he whistled to himself some nameless song that had been stuck in his head since that morning. It had been awhile since he had felt this good and his mood could be traced to a missing girl connected to two murders and the thin folder under his arm.

Yes. He felt good. So good in fact, that he’d decided to put off his planned suicide until he could see this chase through to the end. Once the game was over and he had caught you, then he would finally take his own life. But for the first time in a long while, he had something immediate worth living for.

But he was jarred from his daze when someone bumped into him, the force enough to cause the folder to slip from under his arm. With reflexes that could only be honed through years of training and practice, he managed to catch it before the folder’s contents could scatter across the sidewalk.

Of course, his movements carried the same dramatic flair as was usual, the file bouncing from hand to hand as he exaggerated the possibility that he might drop it. Once he had the file back in hand, he let out a loud sigh of relief and placed a hand over his heart.

“That was close,” he said happily to himself and he quickly flipped through the papers inside of the folder, ensuring that he hadn’t lost any in the scramble.

“Sorry,” a girl’s voice—the voice of the person who had run into him—murmured and Dazai looked up just in time to see the girl slip into the crowd. The playfulness disappeared from Dazai’s features as he lost track of her amongst the throng of people.

His eyes narrowed fractionally before he shrugged dismissively. At this point, there was nothing to be done and so he continued on his way, turning his mind back to the chase he was on and letting his excitement carry him the rest of the way to Lupin.

As he descended the stairs into the bar, he found himself whistling again, his earlier mood having returned in full force. Odasaku was already seated at the bar, a glass of whiskey placed in front of him. He looked up curiously and raised an eyebrow at his friend.

“You seem in an exceptionally good mood,” he noted and Dazai gave him a cheerful smile in return as he sat down at his side. A moment later, a glass of whiskey was set down in front of him by the old bartender.

Rather than replying, Dazai began to hum the melody he had originally been whistling and set his folder onto the bartop before sliding it to Odasaku. Odasaku looked at it blankly for a moment before picking it up so that he could leaf through its contents.

“What’s this?” he asked, pausing for a moment on the picture of you that Arata had sent him—the one of your blood-stained face.

“My next project,” Dazai hummed happily, picking up his drink and taking a sip. Odasaku could immediately see what had captured Dazai’s interest as he read over the police report on the death of a boy named Iwasaki Eiji.

“‘Drowned in his own blood’?” Odasaku read aloud, the confusion evident in his voice. One couldn’t be a member of the Port Mafia without hearing of odd deaths, but this had to be one of the more remarkable ones that Odasaku had come across. Especially when he turned the page and saw the crime scene photos, the bed that was covered in blood. “What, this girl did that?”

He flipped back to the photo at the front and couldn’t stop the wave of pity that washed over him as he looked at your image. Whatever hopes of a normal life you had went out the window the moment this boy had died.

“That’s not all…” Dazai teased, capturing Odasaku’s attention and he returned where he had left off, flipping past the crime scene photos until he stopped at a still that had been printed out from a security camera. The image was slightly grainy, but it was clear enough for him to make out what was happening.

A middle-aged man had you bent forward over the hood of a car as he stood right behind you. Odasaku frowned heavily when he saw that your pants were down at your ankles. He flipped the photo and his eyes widened at the next image. The man from the first picture was lying face-up in a pool of his own blood, which was also splattered across the white hood of the car.

“She did this?” he asked as his eyes continued to absorb the details before turning to the next photo.

“Yep. The cop was on the payroll. He was supposed to hand her over but when I went to pick her up, this was what I found,” Dazai replied and Odasaku glanced up to see that rather than dismay at the girl having disappeared, a sincere smile had formed on his lips.

“And you haven’t found her yet?” Odasaku’s brow furrowed in confusion and he saw Dazai shake his head in his periphery. “Shouldn’t have been too hard, should it? She would have been drenched in his blood.”

“Turn the page.” Dazai’s words came out in a sing-song tone and when Odasaku saw the next photo, an impressed smile found its way onto his own lips. It was another still captured from CCTV footage of you walking alone into a love hotel. The picture was stapled to a credit card statement in Arata’s name showing a charge from the establishment. “She rented a room at a love hotel.”

“Smart,” Odasaku noted. “Shower and a bed. No interactions with staff. Cheap. By-the-hour. Discreet entrances. No one would have noticed her.”

Dazai hummed in agreement. When Odasaku flipped the page, he was surprised to find nothing else. He looked up in confusion at his friend.

“You don’t have anything else on her?” He turned back to the credit card statement and looked at the date of the love hotel transaction. “It’s been a week.”

Dazai let out a noise of frustration at the reminder, but something about it sounded slightly false. Odasaku looked at him for a long moment before he realized what it was. Dazai was enjoying this. He liked that the chase had become a challenge.

“The last thing I have on her is that the day after she killed the cop, she pawned his watch and wedding ring. She got a decent price in cash, which unfortunately means the paper trail ends,” he sighed, slouching forward against the bar dejectedly.

“This is Yokohama. She can’t just go missing from the Port Mafia in this town,” Odasaku pointed out. “Someone will find her and it won’t be long before they do.”

Dazai dropped his head forward until his face was pressed against the surface of the bar and gave a dramatic groan.

“And then all the fun would be gone,” he complained, his words coming out slightly muffled as he spoke into the wooden bartop. He then turned his head to the side without lifting it up and looked at Odasaku and the man saw something dark in Dazai’s eyes. “No, no one else in the Port Mafia will be looking for her. I’ve made sure of that.”

Odasaku merely raised an eyebrow before returning his attention to the folder, flipping back towards the front where a short section on your background had been written on one of the pages. His eyes skimmed over the information.

Born and raised in a small, fishing town. Parents dead. Raised by your grandfather. Taken in by your aunt in Yokohama when he died. Exemplary student. And…

“‘Winner and two-time runner-up of the National Youth Go Tournament’?” Odasaku read, surprise lacing his tone. He looked over to Dazai and the corner of his lip turned upwards in a smirk. “No wonder she’s got you beat.”

Before Dazai could argue, the sound of footsteps approaching caused the pair to look up and see the final member of their trio climbing down the stairs to the bar.

“Ango,” Odasauke greeted, Ango returning it genially—or at least as genially as Ango could really be. He then turned to Dazai who was still slumped forward in distress.

“Did I interrupt something?” he asked, taking the seat to Dazai’s left. He then made a gesture for the bartender to make his usual.

“Just a discussion on the difficulty of playing cat-and-mouse with a talented Go player,” Dazai sighed heavily before pouting petulantly. “They’re too far-seeing and can make too many calculations.”

Odasaku looked at Dazai thoughtfully for a moment.

“Are you any good at Go?” he asked the executive and Dazai shrugged as he sat back up properly, his posture still remaining slouched.

“I can play,” he replied modestly and both Odasaku and Ango scoffed simultaneously. Dazai may complain about the calculating nature of Go players, but with how much he thought through each plan before taking action, there was no doubt that he excelled at the game of strategy.

“You think you could beat her?” Odasaku asked, tossing the file back in front of Dazai and pointing to the picture of you—the same picture of your blood-stained face that Dazai had already spent countless hours looking at.

Dazai picked it up and examined it carefully, almost as if this were the first time he had done so. Finally, his lips formed a dark smirk and he slid the picture into the inside pocket of his jacket.

“I guess we’ll find out when I catch her,” he replied before taking a satisfied sip of his whiskey. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers and turned to Ango with a look of smug joy. “And you! It’s time for you to pay up!”

Ango dropped his head back with an annoyed groan. Dazai laughed at the reaction and held out his hand expectantly.

“What’s this?” Odasaku interrupted curiously.

“Ango here was foolish enough to bet that I couldn’t get an assassin stupid enough to get himself caught to talk,” Dazai grinned triumphantly, answering on behalf of Ango when the man in question ignored Odasaku to grumble under his breath in displeasure as he pulled out his wallet.

Counting out the money he owed, Ango slapped the folded bills into Dazai’s palm, making Dazai laugh again. However, Dazai’s laughter slowly died down when he reached into his pocket and found his wallet missing. Confused, he checked his remaining pockets, only to turn up empty.

“Something wrong?” Odasaku asked, watching Dazai’s movements and the executive was quiet for a moment before he burst into laughter so unexpectedly that it caught both Odasaku and Ango by surprise.

“Dazai?” Ango cautiously ventured. Despite being used to Dazai’s odd behavior, this seemed like something else entirely. Dazai tried to explain, only to burst out into another fit of laughter that had both Odasaku and Ango exchanging confused looks behind Dazai’s back.

Eventually, his laughter seemed to die down and when he looked at Ango, the man was taken aback by the pure joy on Dazai’s face

“I was pickpocketed,” he finally managed to tell them, a wide smile on his lips.

Ango’s features immediately scrunched up in confusion.

“Somebody pickpocketed you?” Ango asked, clearly bewildered by the notion. “And you let them?”

Dazai suddenly remembered the girl who had bumped into him less than an hour ago. Had his clumsy act left him vulnerable? He hadn’t even felt her fingers in his pocket. Before he could ruminate on the interaction any longer, a slip of paper was placed in front of him on the bartop.

Blinking owlishly, he looked at the bill before his gaze travelled up to the bartender to see the old man’s eyes twinkling in amusement, clearly having heard Dazai’s predicament. Odasaku and Ango laughed at the man’s perfect timing and the playfully distraught look on Dazai’s face.

“Good thing you won your bet with Ango,” Odasaku noted with a sly grin on his face, making Dazai laugh again. And despite Ango’s scoff at the joke at his expense, even he couldn’t fully stop the way the corner of his lips twitched upwards.

You frowned as you searched the leather wallet in your hands. Its owner had been wearing a nice suit, one that looked expensive. You had hoped that it would be reflected by the amount of cash you would find once you had stolen his wallet. Instead, other than the two, thousand-yen bills, there was nothing.

No form of ID, no credit cards, nothing. At least, until you searched it one last time and found a folded slip of paper that was slightly peeking out. Curiously, you pulled it out and opened it, only to immediately furrow your brow in confusion at what was written on it.

Death by train (lie on the tracks?)

Drowning (the bay or the river?)

Poison (pro: poetic, con: easily cured)

Jumping (how high does building need to be?)

Hanging (need to be careful, could end in paralysis instead of death)

“What?” you asked yourself in confusion, rereading the short, numbered list in an futile effort to understand what had been written. You flipped the paper over, looking for some sort of explanation only to find nothing. Who took the time to sit down and list ways to die?

Perhaps you should have known. Despite the expensive suit, the guy had been covered in bandages. From what could be inferred from the list in your hands as well as their placement, they were probably due to failed attempts to take his own life.

“Doesn’t matter,” you mumbled, pocketing the cash before tossing the wallet into the nearest trash bin. You’d need to find someone else to target.

You had been trying to limit how many people you had been stealing from. The last thing you wanted was for an increased police presence due to a sudden rash of complaints about pickpocketing.

But you didn't need that much more. You’d been doing this for almost a full week by now. Just a little more money and you would be able to afford to leave Yokohama for good with enough money to get by on until you could find somewhere new to start over. Just a little bit more and you could leave this all behind. It would all become some terrible memory that you could force yourself to forget in time.

You could feel your desperation warring with recklessness. You suddenly heard your grandfather’s voice again.

“You see why you lost? It’s because you felt like I was closing in on you in this part of the board and you got reckless. There’s a time to be bold, but only when it’s the right time.”

You remembered when he had given you that piece of advice. At the time, you had rolled your eyes at the cryptic words and sarcastically asked him to clarify what the “right time” was. He had given you a light smack to the back of the head for that one.

“The line between boldness and and recklessness is a fine one, my most beloved and ungrateful granddaughter. Don’t stray over it into the latter.”

Your fingers began to twitch at your sides anxiously. You needed to get out of Yokohama.

That last thought echoed in your head, eclipsing the wisdom that your grandfather had tried to impart to you.

‘Just a little more,’ you repeated to yourself.

As you returned to looking at the crowd to find another target, a man in a suit caught your eye. He looked to be in his late-twenties or early-thirties and was muttering something under his breath. He looked upset. More importantly, he looked distracted.

You watched him with hawkish eyes as he walked along the sidewalk. Every so often, he would bump into someone in the crowd and still he remained distracted by whatever was on his mind. Your fingers drummed against your thigh, already prepared to be nimble. Looking ahead of him, you realized that he was headed for an intersection and would have to wait for the pedestrian signal to change in order to cross.

That was your opportunity.

Taking a deep breath to steady your remaining nerves, you slowly made your way towards him, closing the distance between the two of you until you were standing behind him at the intersection.

You glanced up at him discreetly one final time, making sure that he was still distracted before you slipped your fingers into his pocket and smoothly pulled out his wallet. It felt thicker than the last wallet you had stolen and you smiled to yourself. The pedestrian signal changed colors, directing you to begin crossing the street and you wasted no time in making your escape. Slipping past the man, you walked past him at a leisurely pace. Being too obvious would only raise suspicions.

But just as relief began to wash over you, your heart stopped at the sudden commotion you heard from behind.

“Fuck! Fuck!” a man started screaming and you knew it had to be the man that you had just stolen from.

And then you made a mistake, a mistake that would end up being bigger than you ever could have imagine, a mistake that would profoundly change the course of your life—you looked back.

The second that you did, you made eye contact with the man and you didn’t know if it was the panic that seeped through your expression or if the man was just that perceptive, but the realization hit him that you were the one who had robbed him.

You broke into a sprint, desperate to lose him in the crowd.

“Get back here, you bitch!” he shouted furiously as he pushed through the crowd to follow after you.

The sound of your feet hitting the concrete as you ran echoed loudly in your ears. Your heart was racing with both exertion and fear. If this man caught you, you knew it wouldn’t just be a lecture or the police. The fate that awaited you if you were captured wouldn’t be so benevolent.

You took turn after turn, hoping to lose the man in the maze of Yokohama’s side streets. But no matter how much distance you thought that you were putting between you and the man, all it took was one look back to see that he was still on your trail.

“You can’t run forever! Just wait until I get my hands on you!”

Tears began to blur your vision and you furiously wiped them away. Crying could come later, when you were safely out of Yokohama and on to start your new life. For now, all it did was obstruct your vision and make it harder for you to breathe.

Catching sight of an alley, you unexpectedly rounded the corner and darted past the crates and dumpsters, hoping that the debris would slow the man down. There was a chain link fence ahead, but the small hole along the edge gave you hope.

“Fuck!” you heard the man cry out, followed by the sound of something crashing into the ground. He must have tripped on something and it allowed you the time that you needed to slip through the hole in the fence.

Just as you squeezed through the hole and went to run, you heard the sound of fabric ripping and were yanked back and realized that the fence had torn a hole in the sweatshirt that you were wearing. You pushed away the memory that surfaced of when you had tried to escape Arata’s hold and he had pulled you back by your shirt. Unwilling to make the same mistake, you slipped off the sweatshirt, leaving you in a cheap, Yokohama souvenir t-shirt.

You tried not to get your hopes up, but there was no way the man would fit through that hole. You had just barely fit through it. And it was too flimsy to climb. Had it worked? Had you lost him?

It was like you were tempting fate with just that one thought. Just before you reached the end of the alley, the man appeared, blocking your exit. His expression looked wild and you saw that he had a gun in one hand.

“You little bitch. You think you know these streets better than me ?” he spat and tears filled your vision.

You realized that the wallet was still in your grasp and you quickly held it out for him.

“Take it back. Please. I’m so sorry,” you cried, backing up slowly. “I just needed a little money. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, you’re not sorry. But you’re gonna be,” he warned as he began to move closer to you. For every step he took towards you, you took one back.

If you could just get to the fence, you could try and escape back through it. He still had a gun, but there was enough debris on the other side of the fence that as long as you could get past the fence, then you could find shelter behind one of the dumpsters.

He was only a few feet from you. If he got any closer then you wouldn’t have room to run. It was now or never. And so you sprinted towards the hole, hoping to take the man by surprise with the suddenness of your movements.

You hadn’t even made it halfway there before you felt a sharp pain at the back of your head.

And then, everything went black.

Consciousness slowly dawned on you. A shooting pain in your head soon followed that had you groaning. Or at least trying to. You realized there was some sort of fabric between your teeth and when you tried to groggily open your eyes, you found only darkness.

“She’s up, sir,” a voice said and your mind was foggy but you recognized the voice.

Then it hit you. The pickpocketing. Getting caught. Trying to run. Being cornered. Pain. And then nothing.

“Good, good, good,” a second voice said, excitement lacing his words. “Sit her up.”

A pair of hands were suddenly roughly grabbing your upper arms to pull you up and your attempts to struggle were weakened by your sluggish brain. When you tried to lift your hand to push them away, you found that your wrists were bound together and the realization had you panicking.

A loud crack filled the space and there was a blinding pain across your right cheek that had you seeing stars behind the blindfold covering your eyes and crying out into the makeshift gag between your teeth.

“Ogawa!” the second voice snapped, the threat unmistakable.

“Sorry, sir,” the first voice, the voice of the man that you had tried to pickpocket, apologized and despite the daze you were in from the slap you had received, you could imagine the cold look he was receiving.

There was silence and then a light touch on your unmarred cheek. You flinched away from it out of both fear and disgust.

“There, there,” the second voice, the authoritative voice, tried to soothe you before the owner’s gentle hands were gripping onto the fabric covering your eyes and lifting it away.

You immediately tried to open your eyes, desperate to see your surroundings, only to shut them at the room’s brightness. Forced to wait until your eyes could adjust to the lighting, you lifted up your bound wrists and began to pull at the knot at the base of your head that tied the cloth between your teeth. The gentle hands quickly covered yours before you could tug it loose.

“Ah, ah, ah. I’m sorry, but for now that will have to stay.” The voice sounded apologetic, like he actually meant it.

You finally managed to open an eye and saw that you were in a modernly decorated living room. A look around revealed that you were on a fine, leather couch and that this man—a thin man with salt-and-pepper colored hair who appeared to be in his early-fifties wearing a fine suit—was sitting on the edge of the glass-top coffee table and facing you.

Desperate for relief, you held up your wrists to him but knew the request was in vain. He shook his head.

“That too, I’m afraid,” he said but already his attention was on something else—your face. With the same, gentle touch as before, he took your chin in his fingers and carefully tilted your face to the right, then to the left. “Very nice.”

However, when he looked at the large, quickly-reddening spot on your cheek, he frowned heavily. His eyes shot up to focus on something behind you and you figured it must be the man who had slapped you.

“Almost perfect.” His words were pointed and his gaze never wavered from the man behind you. “Now, get out.”

There was a moment of hesitation and you saw the way something dangerous creeped into the eyes of the man seated in front of you.

“Yes, sir,” the man behind you finally replied. You could then hear his footsteps as he made his leave. Instinctively, you turned your head to try and see the man’s retreating figure, only to find your chin still being firmly held. A door opened and then shut and suddenly, you were alone with your captor.

“I’m sorry for Ogawa,” he said as he continued to examine your features. “He has a tendency to use his fists rather than his brain.”

He scoffed before something that looked like approval appeared on his face.

“But he does get results,” he conceded with a resigned sigh. He released your chin and you immediately sat further back on the couch in an attempt to put space between the two of you. “I should introduce myself.”

He then leaned in, erasing the gap that you had just created, and took your hands in both of his. His thumb began rub circles against your skin and you had to fight down the shudder of revulsion at the intimacy of the gesture.

“I’m Takada Hisashi.” He didn’t ask for your name. “I think we’re going to have a lot of fun.”

You flinched away from him at his words and he moved one of his hands to cup your cheek.

“Now, now. You don’t need to be scared,” he reassured you. He gave you a smile that was tinged with something dark. “I’ll take good care of you.”

He was promising kindness but you could see the lie in his eyes. Whatever mask he was wearing wasn’t going to last for long.

“Ogawa told me how he came across you. That you actually had to gall to pickpocket him. He was reluctant to admit it but he also told me that you almost got away with it.” He gave a genuine laugh, honestly amused by the chain of events. “Now, imagine that. A seasoned member of the Port Mafia getting pickpocketed by a teenager.”

Your eyes widened. The Port Mafia? How could you live in Yokohama and not have heard of the Port Mafia? Whether it was in the news or the rumors spread through your school, talk of the Port Mafia was never far.

“How old are you?” the man, Takada, asked as he returned to looking over your face appraisingly. You didn’t know how he expected you to answer him with the gag still between your teeth. “You can’t be more than 18.”

His voice was a murmur now and you could see something that had your fight-or-flight response running hayware creeping into his gaze. Suddenly, his eyes met yours and the kind and gentle facade fell away. Quicker than you could process, the hand that was cupping your cheek buried itself in your hair and pulled on it so harshly that you cried out into your gag. Tears prickled your eyes at the stinging pain.

You instinctively raised your hand to try and fight his grip on your hair but the movement caused the rope around your wrists to rub painfully against your skin, further feeding your tears.

“I’m going to ask you a question and I want you to be honest with me,” he said, his voice still as soft as before but the genteel tone was nowhere to be heard. “Can you do that for me?”

When you took too long to answer him, his grip grew tighter and you cried out again. You hurriedly nodded, wincing at how the motion caused more of your hair to be tugged in his hold.

“Have you been with a man before?”

The question had your stomach sinking like a rock. You stared at him with wide, teary eyes until one of your tears fell down your cheek slowly. From the tone of his voice and the look on his face, he expected an answer.

Slowly and so minutely that the motion could have been missed, you nodded. Your reply had Takada sighing heavily before he released you roughly.

“Shame,” he remarked and he sounded sincerely disappointed. “I wanted to be the one to desecrate you.”

You felt a nauseating wave of déjà vu wash over you.

“Fuck, I wish you were still a virgin. I got to you a couple hours too late.”

Takada’s sentiment echoed the words Arata had grunted into your ear only a week prior and you could feel your fear beginning to get the better of you.

“You teenagers can’t wait for anything these days, can you?” he asked bitterly before standing up. He then walked around the couch and you looked over your shoulder to see him stop in front of an expensive looking bar cart. He picked up one of the beautifully decorated decanters and began to fix himself a drink.

Now free from his gaze, you frantically began to pull at the bindings around your wrists. The rope burned your skin, but you knew that you needed to take advantage of this brief moment where you were free from Takada’s watchful gaze. The longer it took you to tug at the rope, the more desperate you could feel yourself becoming.

You weren’t going to be able to get loose. Takada was going to do whatever he wanted with you. And then after, maybe he’d let you go. Maybe he’d kill you. Maybe he’d keep you here until he grew tired of you and you became disposable.

Tears blurred your vision as you looked down at your wrists. The skin had been rubbed raw. It wouldn’t be long before they began to bleed. Time was running out.

You heard the gentle clink of glass touching glass and looked back to see that Takada has set the decanter back onto the bar cart and was lifting up the drink he had just made. You turned back around. Your time was up. Sniffling softly, you hurriedly wiped away any traces of tears from your eyes.

The sound of Takada’s footsteps returning to you had you trembling. You felt like you were on the executioner’s block and the man who controlled your fate was approaching with his axe.

Takada appeared in front of you once more and sat back down on the coffee table. You looked up at him and found more tears forming as you made eye contact with the man. When he saw how hard you were trying to keep from crying, a dark smile appeared on his lips and the kind front he had portrayed was nowhere to be found.

Setting his drink down, he cupped your cheek with one of his hands and when you flinched away at the contact, his hand immediately closed the gap.

“Let me see those tears,” he murmured, his voice low, and when you looked back at him you couldn’t help the tear that fell down your cheek, giving him exactly what he wanted. His smile grew slightly crazed as his eyes followed the trail of your tear as it crossed your jaw and slowly slid down your neck.

“Beautiful,” he breathed. “I’ll do my best to make sure that’s not the last one you shed.”

The promise had you shutting your eyes tightly, no longer able to look at the man. Unfortunately, doing so only caused more of your tears to fall and Takada laughed maniacally.

Desperation reared its ugly head again as Takada’s laughter rang in your ears. You had to get free. Clenching your hands into fists, you took a deep, steadying breath.

There was a way—a way that you had wanted to forget. But could you do it? Could you kill him?

More tears escaped your closed eyelids as you asked yourself the question. Before...with the others...they had been accidents. Could you cross the line into intentionally taking someone else’s life?

But when you glanced up and looked at Takada through your tears to see the hungry look on his face, you realized that the question had been answered for you. If you wanted to make it out of here alive, you would have to use the ability that had already spilled more blood than anyone should have to see in their lifetime.

All you had to do was touch him, right? That’s how it worked with Arata. That was how it worked with...Eiji.

You would touch him and he would start coughing up blood. And then, once he was dead, you could run. You would be safe. You could finally leave Yokohama.

Looking down, you watched what felt like someone else’s weak, trembling hands, which were still bound together at the wrist with a piece of rope, slowly reaching out towards Takada’s.

But before you could touch him, his own hand grabbed onto your upper arm and yanked you up. His hold was tight enough to make you cry out into your gag and there was no doubt that he would be leaving behind a bruise on your arm.

You struggled not to trip over your own feet but the sudden movement had your head spinning, probably due to the likely concussion Ogawa had given you. As Takada dragged you along, it felt like you were seeing everything through a slightly hazy fog and it only served to feed both your fear and your desperation.

Your inner turmoil grew worse when you reached the threshold of Takada’s bedroom. As the horrific reality of your fate stared you in the face, you began to struggle wildly, trying as hard as you could to break free of his hold while simultaneously trying to dig your heels into the expensive hardwood floor.

This seemed to break whatever remained of Takada’s patience. Suddenly, his hand was closed around your throat and he used the new hold on you to slam you back into the wall, paying no regard to the framed painting already hanging there nor to the way the glass shattered from the force of your body hitting it. You cried out again as the glass dug into your back, shredding parts of your t-shirt and cutting into your skin.

His grip grew tight and the pain of the glass digging into your back faded away as you began to struggle for oxygen. You tried to bring your hands up to grab onto his own. If you could just touch his skin, you could stop him, you could get free. But with the rope still binding your wrists together and his body pressed up against yours, the closest that you could get was the sleeve of his suit jacket.

“This is good,” he said coolly as he kept you pinned to the wall. His hold on your throat remained just on the right side of keeping you from passing out—loose enough so that you didn’t lose consciousness, but tight enough that you were still in pain and having difficulty breathing. “Iwant you to fight. This would be boring if you didn’t.”

His hand squeezed harshly, making you see spots before he pulled you away from the wall by your throat and dragged you until he could slam your back onto his bed. Tiny shards of glass that had dug into your skin cut deeper at the pressure but you were too busy gulping in deep breaths of oxygen to pay attention to the pain as he released his hold on you. You heard him opening and closing a drawer and you rolled to your side and pushed yourself to sit up with shaky arms.

But just as you brought yourself to sit fully upright on the edge of the mattress, Takada was back. Only this time, there was no sign left of his temper. When he knelt down before you, there was an eerie calmness to his expression that had your heart hammering in your throat. You were still panting heavily now that your flow of oxygen was no longer being restricted.

Reaching into his jacket, Takada pulled out a knife and you immediately stilled. You watched with wide eyes as he brought it up to your neck. The blade was so close that you held your breath, worried that even breathing would cause it to pierce your skin.

“I could kill you,” Takada murmured and tears blurred your vision. “But I don’t want to. No, I think I want to keep you.”

He looked at you strangely for a long moment.

“What’s your name?” he finally asked and when you didn’t answer him, he moved the knife away from your neck just a fraction. “Give me a name, pretty girl.”

Not wanting to tempt his wrath again, you whispered your name around the cloth between your teeth. Despite how quiet and how muffled your voice was, Takada seemed to hear it clearly enough because he let your name fall from his lips and a shudder of revulsion ran down your spine.

He then leaned down at pressed his lips to your wrist, just above your bindings. And then, unexpectedly, he brought the knife away from your neck and cut away at the rope. The sudden relief that came when he finally pulled away the frayed cords had you gasping softly. While your wrists weren’t bleeding, there was a deep and worrying redness left on your skin from both how long and how tightly the rope had been tied.

But you didn’t have time to relish being free from your bindings. It meant nothing so long as you were still in Takada’s clutches.

He seemed to have some twisted sense of awe for you. As long as you made no sudden movements, you might be able to take advantage of it. You would do anything to escape.

‘Now. You have to do it now,’ a voice deep inside urged you, drowning out the loud beating of your heart in your ears.

Carefully, with movements that were glacially slow, you lifted one hand up and reached for Takada’s face. He watched your hand in fascination, like he couldn't comprehend what you were doing. Your fingers were trembling furiously by the time they reached his cheek and Takada leaned into your touch longingly.

“Please,” you whispered desperately through your gag, wanting more than anything for this ability of yours to save you. When you felt that odd yet increasingly familiar sensation wash over you, you closed your eyes in relief causing a tear to escape past your eyelids.

Your ability, your gift, your curse—whatever it was—it had worked.

Takada groaned loudly, sounding like he was in pain and you heard the knife clatter to the floor as he dropped it. Opening your eyes, you saw that he was hunched over your lap. His face was buried in one of his hands while the other had gone to your thigh, where his fingers were tightly gripping onto the fabric of your jeans.

He looked like he was in agony and you wanted to hate that the sight made your heart soar. You wanted to hate that you were happy and relieved that this man was about to die—because of you.

You shook your head gently to chase away the thought, mindful of the way the motion had caused your vision to spin. There would be time to deal with your moral crisis later. Right now, you needed to get out. Bringing up your hands, you weakly began to push at Takada’s shoulders to get him away from you.

It happened before you could even comprehend it.

One second you were trying to shove Takada off of you and the next, there was cold metal on your wrist and the familiar clink of a handcuff closing. Looking down in horror, you realized that Takada had pulled a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and cuffed one of your wrists.

“No, no, no, no,” you cried through your gag as you tried to shove Takada away yet again with every ounce of strength left in your body.

Your efforts were quickly hampered when Takada yanked harshly on the loose cuff to pull you to him. His free hand then went to the back of your head and he used his hold to bring your lips onto his. His fingers fisted in your hair and kept your head right where he wanted, leaving you no room to try and avoid his hungry and feverish kisses.

Panicking, your free hand continued to shove at his shoulder and you used your legs to kick at his stomach. He let out a grunt when your foot hit him hard but he remained steadfast. With nothing else at your disposal, you captured his bottom lip between your teeth and bit down hard.

“Fuck!” he screamed, jumping back and bringing both of his hands to his now profusely bleeding lip.

Seeing your chance, you shot up skirted around him, aiming for the door. But before you could even get fully past him, he had grabbed onto the loose cuff that was dangling from your wrist and pulled you back harshly. The force had you tripping and he used your loss of balance to his advantage by pulling again so that you fell forward onto your stomach on his bed.

“You’re not going anywhere. You’re mine now. No one else’s.”

The most frightening thing about his words wasn’t their meaning, but Takada’s tone. He didn’t sound angry or upset. He sounded almost loving, like this was for your own good.

Moving just as quickly as before, he looped the free cuff around one of the slats in his wooden headboard and then closed it around your remaining wrist. Once the telltale clink echoed throughout the room, Takada paused, his breathing heavy.

Tears blurred your vision as the previous events caught up with you. You looked desperately at the handcuffs that were tightly cuffed around your wrists and the way you were now chained to his bed. Yanking harshly, you cried out when there was no give. All you got was the loud clanking of the handcuff chain as it ground into the wooden headboard and blinding pain in your wrists as the metal dug into skin that had already been bruised and torn by the rope.

Sobs began to rack your body as you buried your face into your upper arm. They only grew worse when the mattress dipped as Takada climbed beside you.

“Shh. There’s no need to cry,” he murmured as he began to yank your jeans from your hips and then down your legs until he could throw them to the floor. “I’ll take good care of you. I take good care of the things that belong to me. And I want you to be mine so badly. I want you more than anything I’ve wanted before. You’re special. Do you understand that?”

He then said your name like it was the most precious word in the entire history of spoken words and your sobs grew harder. His hands slid back up your thighs until his fingers hooked the bottom of your shirt and lifted it up and over your head, exposing your back to him. The motion dislodged some of the small shards of glass that had dug into your back, but the pain simply blended into the turmoil that you were already experiencing.

“Please, please,” you begged through your tears but it simply fell on deaf ears.

You felt something wet and warm moving up and down your back and when you glanced over your shoulder as best you could, you realized that Takada was licking the small trails of blood that had formed from where the glass had cut you with his tongue. Disgust, revulsion, helplessness, panic, fear, and desperation all violently warred with one another inside of you.

“Please,” you cried softly and Takada switched to placing open-mouthed kisses along your back as he abandoned lapping up the small, crimson bloodstains.

“Shh. My pretty girl. I’ll make you feel so good. I swear,” he promised against your skin. His fingers then slid along your sides until he reached the cheap, cotton bra you were wearing. He tore at the band, disregarding the clasp altogether as the fabric easily gave way, allowing him to slip his hands underneath your front and grab both of your breasts roughly.

“Stop,” you whimpered, your voice as broken as you felt, but your protest was drowned out by the groans Takada was making as he continued to squeeze you. You tried to yank at your handcuffs again, although at this point you knew it was futile. “Stop.”

When he released you, for just a second you were stupid enough to believe that he had heard you. Instead, he had simply let go of your breasts so that he could move his hands to your hips and drag you to your knees. He used one hand to keep you from collapsing while the other moved to his belt.

The sound of it jingling, followed by the sound of his zipper was barely loud enough to be heard over your panicked breathing as it combined with the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears and your broken sobs. His hand was then at your underwear, tugging it down to your knees so that it was out of the way.

“My pretty girl,” Takada groaned at the sight before him.

When you felt him beginning to line himself up at your entrance, you tried as hard as you could to retreat to someplace else. You tried to remember the afternoons you spent fishing on the dock in your town. You tried to remember the flashlight you hid in your room so that you could read in bed when you should have been sleeping. You tried to remember the games of Go you played against your grandfather.

But the blinding pain of Takada thrusting himself inside of you was too much and you continued to cry weakly. And suddenly, the only memory that came to you was one that you didn’t want.

You heard your grandfather’s voice. His words of forewarning echoed in your ears and you would have given anything to have remembered them earlier. But now, they were useless.

“Don’t act out of desperation, my dear. That’s when you’re prone to make the error that will cost you the game.”

How had you ended up here again?

#weary hearts #dazai osamu fanfiction #bsd fanfiction #bsd #dazai osamu #fanfiction #writing #dazai osamu x reader

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a-touch-of-tmnt-blog · 6 years

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You Weren’t What I Expected | A TMNT Fanfiction

This is a fan-fiction about four friends, Nadine, Beth, Krista and Chloe, who meet the Turtles and befriend them. As they grow closer together in friendship, and love, secrets about the girls start to emerge. Can everyone be trusted?

Chapter One

Nadine POV:

For the first time in a long time, it was a calm night here in New York City. There was the usual sound of cars passing by and honking every now and then but there weren’t that many people on the streets walking to and from places. How would I know though, I’m in my apartment watching TV shows again while doing my homework. Typical high school night for me as usual.

“Nadine,it’s time for bed are you finished with your work yet?”a voice yelled from across the hall. My mom was about to come into my room but stopped herself as she got to my door.

“Not yet, let me finish this real quick and I’ll go to bed.” I said as I turn the volume on the TV down a bit. I hear her start to leave as she as she says something to my younger brother. I finish my homework, put everything away and head for bed. Then my phone starts to buzz.

I pick it up and see that I got a text message from Beth, my best friend, who is wondering if I can sneak out for a bit to talk. I text her back that I can’t and put my phone on the charger next to my bed. As I go to turn off the lights, I turn around and see a figure in my window. Before doing anything else, the figure opens the window and sticks her head in.

“You can’t huh?” Beth says quietly as she looks at her phone.

“What is it you need now? Boy drama again?” I sarcastically say a trying not to alert my mom that she’s here. Beth points her finger upwards as if to signal me to go to the roof with her. I roll my eyes and reluctantly grab my slippers and a jacket and head up the fire escape after her. I close my window slightly and head upwards.

“It’s not boy drama but it’s something really cool.” Beth says as she practically runs up the escape. As I get to the top and onto the roof of the building, Beth pulls out her phone and puts it in my face. I focus on it and it’s a picture of a dimly lit alley way with a huge figure standing just near the light.

“Whoa what is that?” I say as I take the phone from her hand and zoom in on the image. You can’t make out what or who it might be, but it is huge.

“No clue but it doesn’t look like a normal person does it?” Beth asked as she pulled the phone closer to her to look at it as well. “I can make out what looks like a shell colored backpack and from what I can tell, three fingers.”

“Yeah but anyone could have three fingers from birth or like an accident.” I say to her as she gives me a look. “Your still hell bent on finding weird creatures for that contest, aren’t you?” I asked her after a moments silence. At our school, there is a contest to find the most abnormal thing in your neighborhood and the winner would get a cash money prize of 1,000 dollars.

“Yeah but I’m going to need a better photo of this person or thing and I want you to come and help me.” Beth says with her smile that could win awards. Literally, her smile sends shivers down my spine sometimes.

“Like right now?” I say to her almost panicking a bit.

“Yes tonight,” Beth starts to say “No not tonight, silly. You can spend the night at my house tomorrow and then we can go ‘monster hunting’ “She say as she puts it in air quotes.

“I’ll have to ask tomorrow but yeah fine I’ll help you.” I say to her as she pulls me into a hug. We head down the fire escape and I quietly enter my room and shut the window. I see Beth make it to the ally below and she waves behind her head before disappearing into the streets nearby. I take off my jacket and shoes and crawl into bed and fall asleep.

-Next Day-

“Nadine, wake up, you’re going to be late for school!” my mother shouted from the hallway. I opened my eyes and bolted out of bed. I looked at my phone and realized that I had slept through my alarm clock. Crap. I quickly get dressed for school and put my hair in a pony tail and grab my backpack.

“Morning!” I said as I quickly head into the kitchen where my mom and my little brother are already sitting down for breakfast. I put my stuff down and grab a plate of breakfast my mom had just finished making, eggs and toast with bacon.

“Stay up late last night?” my mom said as she gave me a look. I could tell she already knew that Beth popped by for a visit last night and I couldn’t deny it to her. I couldn’t tell her that Beth wanted to find some weird, possibly not real, creature in new York on a Friday night.

“Um well, Beth wanted to know if it’s alright if I spent the night at her house so that we can work on a project for science. We’re partners, and she needs all the help she can get.” I fib a bit to her. My mom knows that Beth is my friend but doesn’t like her actions. I don’t know why though because we never get into trouble.

“Well I have no problem with it, but I want you to text me when you get there and when you’re coming home in the morning. We have things to do tomorrow.” My mom says as we both sit down and eat our breakfast. There’s a long silent moment before my brother chimes in with putting his bacon on his lips like a mustache. My mom starts to smile at him and laugh a little. I chuckle a bit as I finish my breakfast, kiss my mom and brother goodbye, and head out the door.

“Yay this is going to be so much fun! I’m defiantly going to give you guys some credit when I win this photo contest!” Beth explains as we walk through the halls to our class.

“Guys? I thought it was just me and you?” I asked a bit baffled by what she said. Beth looks at me and does her awkward pose where she intertwines her fingers together and bites her lower lip. She does this when she wants to surprise someone or she’s embarrassed.

“I had asked Chloe and Krista if they wanted to tag along and Chloe said yes, haven’t heard from Krista.” Beth said as she looked at me. Chloe is our other friend who’s normally not into night adventures, but I guess Beth convinced her in some way. Krista, on the other hand, is more of a school mate who we used to hang out with in middle school, but don’t anymore for no reason at all.

“What makes you think that Krista is going to want to come over tonight if everything else we’ve done hasn’t worked out before?” I asked Beth as we enter our class and take our seats.

“I thought I’d give it a shot.” Beth explained, putting her backpack down and sitting in her seat. As the class started for the day, all I could think of was about my mother and why we had to be somewhere tomorrow. She could have easily just said that it involved my father and not this beat-around-the-bush gig. Before I knew it, it was already the next class period. I spent the rest of the day focusing on the school work at hand.

It finally got to the end of the day. Beth had texted Chloe and Krista that we would either meet at the train station or at her apartment, and gave them the address. Me and Beth on the other hand were ready to head out to her apartment. We started gossiping on our way to the train station about all the people would be shocked to see her photo be the winner of this contest.

“Hey, Beth, Nadine, wait up!” shouted a voice behind us as we were about to board a train. It was Chloe and she was running to catch up to us. When she did, the train doors had closed, and she had barely made it.

“You know you could have texted me but it’s fine you’re here now.” Beth says excited as Chloe finally caught her breath. It took us about 30 minutes, from the train to walking, to get to Beth’s apartment. When we got there, it had looked like she spent most of last night making a giant blanket fort for us to stay in.

“Wow how long did it take for you to do this?” Chloe asked as she put her stuff down and took off her shoes at the door.

“Almost all night. By the way, my parents aren’t going to be home for the weekend so if you want and your parents allow, you can stay for a couple nights.” Beth added in as she went to the kitchen to grab our snacks she kept mentioning on the train ride up here. I put my stuff down and took my shoes off as well and crawled into the fort, with Chloe right behind.

“Wow there are fairy lights in here too!” Chloe said as she was more amazed than I was about the whole thing. Beth comes in and puts all sorts of snacks down and we spend the next half an hour talking and eating, mostly gossip though.

“From what I heard Angie hates me just because I happened to be partners with her boyfriend for biology, but she’s lucking out cause he’s really stupid.” Chloe said as she was laying down sideways. Me and Beth both chuckled at that fact.

“Yeah but at least you’re not Angie’s partner.” Beth added in as she took a bite of a chip. “I heard he’s planning on skipping class on presentation day because she’s so uptight.” Chloe and me both laughed a bit and then Beth pulled out her camera. “Smile you two!” she said.

“Really, you’re going to take our picture now.” I say as a smile forms on the corner of my mouth. Beth motions for me and Chloe to get closer and to strike a pose. We do so as the camera flashes into our eyes. She shows us on the camera and it’s good with the sheets and lights in the background and the two of us posing the same pose.

“Now that the warm-up is done, it’s time we head out and find this thing.” Beth says as she pulls up the photo from her phone to remind us of why we were here in the first place.

“Wait you were serious about that?!” Chloe said as she was panicking a bit.

“Of course, I was, do you honestly even know me to not be serious about a good shot?” Beth asked rhetorically to Chloe, who was now a little terrified of the situation. Just as I was about to chime in, I heard a noise come from outside. I crawl out of the tent and head towards the window where the sound was, and I see a bunch of thugs down below, knocking over trash cans and being loud in the alleyway below. Beth and Chloe heard the noise finally and came to the window as well.

“Purple Dragons, they always cause problems down here.” Beth says as she leans on the window seal with her right arm.

“Yeah well at least your dad isn’t one of them so count your blessings.” I mutter under my breath. I could tell Chloe was about to ask what I meant by that, but then we were interrupted by a woman’s scream in the alley below. From the angle we looked down, the thugs had found someone to harass.

“What should we do?” Chloe said as she stepped away from the window. Beth slowly pulled the window up without making a sound and stuck her head and her camera out with her. I quietly tried to signal her to come back in, but it was too late. She had turned off the flash and took their picture of their activity and came back inside. We viewed the photo and saw that the girl that was being harassed was Krista.

“We have to get her up here!” Beth said as she bolted for the door to go confront the guys. Me and Chloe followed behind, yelling at Beth that it’s not a clever idea and to call the cops instead. By the time we got down to the alleyway, the thugs were either unconscious or ran away, with Krista on the ground as well.

“Hey Krista, are you ok?” Chloe said as Krista was trying to stand.

“Yeah, I’m fine, stupid thugs.” Krista said as she stood up with Chloe’s help. “Did you see the size of those guys though?”

“You mean the thugs, yeah average height and there were a lot of them.” Beth said as she was about to usher us all inside in case they woke up or came back for more.

“No, not those wimps, I mean they guys that took them out.” Krista said. All of us stood there in shock and disbelief at what she said. There weren’t any other people in alley but the Purple Dragons and Krista. She rolled her eyes held out her hand for Beth’s phone. She pulled the phone from her pocket and Krista snatched it and pulled up the photo of the creature. “They looked like this but there was more than what is shown here.”

“Krista are you 100 percent sure you saw this tonight.” Beth asked, walking up to Krista and looking her in the eyes. Me and Chloe both held our breaths and looked at each other. As much as I love Beth, she can become a bit obsessive over certain things. Krista nodded her head and I could tell that a huge smile came onto Beth’s face. Beth took her phone from Krista and turned to me and Chloe.

“Let’s go find them.” She said holding her camera that was strapped around her neck in the sweetest and most sinister voice I’ve heard from her.

Note: this is just the first chapter so i wanted to introduce everyone before they meet the turtles and vice versa. The turtles will be in the next chapter so don’t freak out. I hope you enjoyed it. Next chapter will be out soon.

Also here is a link to what they look like if you’re curious [x]

#tmnt 2016 #tmnt 2014 #tmnt #fanfiction

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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American Gods: Inside Shadow and Technical Boy’s Excellent Adventure

https://ift.tt/3r2NS26

This article contains spoilers for American Gods season 3.

It seems that throughout the history of technology, there has been no greater driver of technological change than the most simple of human desires: sex. From nickelodeon reels of women dancing in skimpy costumes to the home video format war of the ‘80s to the modern dating apps of today, sex sells, and sex has always been at the forefront of human invention. Someone makes a product, and someone else figures out how to use it to gratify humanity’s baser urges. To that end, it makes sense that the ancient Queen of Sheba and love goddess Bilquis and Technical Boy keep running into one another, despite their apparent differences.

Two American Gods, one old, one new. The goddess of the most intimate act that can occur between two or more people and the soulless personification of every Internet pop-up ad turning that connection into a commodity. A being as old as time and a being that did not exist until the 20th Century. The cradle of civilization and the demise of Western civilization.

To Technical Boy actor Bruce Langley, the pairing could not be more antithetical.

“Tech Boy and Bilquis should never be in the same room together. It’s chalk and cheese. But whenever they are, there’s this wonderful chemistry of just these opposites grinding and smashing into each other and just so much weird tension.”

Since the first season of American Gods, Bilquis and Technical Boy have been in continual orbit around one another. Bilquis has been Mr. World’s pet project, and he has been using Technical Boy to keep tabs on her for his own mysterious ends. World wants to win her, to woo her over to their side, and yet he keeps sending the least appropriate God in his arsenal to keep her in line. It’s Technical Boy’s personal mission to deal with Bilquis, and she does not make it easy. When Shadow shows up in Bilquis’s beautiful appointment to find blood, discarded weapons, and a glitching Technical Boy, it’s easy for Shadow to assume the worst, but in fact, Technical Boy is something of a guiding hand for Bilquis albeit a rough one.

“He’s the one who offered her this soured apple lifeline with the app that enabled her to survive in the modern day, get a wonderful apartment, get a load of money, and get consistent worship,” Langley says. “He’s been not so subtly pointing to the sword of Damocles that he had attached over her head since he gave her the app. But this time, he more or less just comes in, detaches the sword, holds it up and says, ‘Hey, I can swing this thing pretty hard, get on side.’ Which of course, Bilquis is not going to respond to.”

Bilquis actress Yetide Badaki expounds upon the unusual relationship: “The Gods have such a hard time pinning BIlquis down, because they’re used to being able to lure individuals with power and money, but these are all things that don’t matter. She’s more interested in the journey for the whole, the journey for more than just the individual. That’s one reason why she shies away from this continued discourse by both sides about war. It really benefits individuals. It definitely does not benefit those that worship the Gods.”

That tension between the two of them is certainly the first thing Shadow jumps to when he walks in and finds Technical Boy glitching out on the couch. He is a New God, Bilquis is a free agent, and there are signs of a struggle. Shadow, despite being called a nice person by Ricky Whittle in our season 3 behind-the-scenes chat, is also a very action-oriented guy, and not an especially deep thinker. Hence, he thrashes Technical Boy a bit before he can talk a little sense into Shadow. However, Technical Boy is more than just trying to stop the beating at the hands of Shadow; he has an altogether more dangerous person who wants to make sure he is keeping an eye on Bilquis.

“Technical Boy has definitely used up eight of his nine lives, as far as World is concerned. So he’s got to get a W on the board real, real quick. He’s got to redirect Bilquis completely onto their side of the board. He can’t fuck that one up,” admits Langley.

American Gods Season 3: What Awaits Shadow in Lakeside

By Ron Hogan

A God cannot be brought over to your side of the table if that God is removed from the table, so the disappearance of Bilquis under suspicious circumstances is nothing if not concerning for her friend Shadow, and her recruiter Technical Boy. Hence, the two must make an alliance and undertake a hunt for a missing love goddess, with Technical Boy providing the technical details, and Shadow providing some much needed muscle for Technical Boy.

“He’s put in a position where he loses access to some of his toys, and he’s put in a position of vulnerability that he’s not used to. He’s in a spot without his back up,” Langley says. “Tech Boy’s more concerned with himself. He’s been always out for number one, but in season three, we see him put in a position where he needs to look out for himself or suffer the consequences. He makes some very interesting alliances.”

Strange alliances, yes, but it all ties back into the greater point of American Gods. All of these disparate elements come together, bounce off one another in interesting ways, and become something greater than the sum of their parts. Yetide Badaki describes it best; it’s not so much chalk and cheese but chocolate and peanut butter.

“What’s fascinating to see over this season is the places where they share common ground, places where they may mirror their experiences,” says Badaki. “We see Shadow Moon, not only having his moment of self-discovery, but we’re also seeing him find this whole new agency within him. The more all of these people learn about themselves, the more they see how interconnected they are.”

Shadow Moon and Technical Boy, the most unlikely detective pairing since Tango and Cash, brought together by their shared relationships with Bilquis. One is altruistic, the other entirely selfish, but for the moment, the tangled threads weaved by Clotho and dispensed by Lachesis have brought them together to prevent Atropos (or the mysterious suited goons who have her trapped) from making the snip that breaks their shared bonds with Bilquis. The whole over the self? Not exactly, but on the right track.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

For Shadow and Technical Boy, working together is not fun, but necessary. For Shadow, it is the right thing to do. For Technical Boy, it’s the only way to save his cybernetic skin and fix whatever glitch Bilquis introduced into his systems.

The post American Gods: Inside Shadow and Technical Boy’s Excellent Adventure appeared first on Den of Geek.

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#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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strawberry-jules · 3 years

Text

the fourth

hi again. it’s 10:41pm.

today was a fucking shit show. like appallingly so. my schedule was supposed to roughly look like this:

6-7am: get up, get ready, go get coffee

8-9: vet appt

9-10: breakfast, clean the kitchen for mom

10-11: post office, quick target run

11.30-4pm: read 2 chapters from textbook

4-5.30: run, shower, etc

5.30-7.30: read half a chapter, take some me time, idk

9pm-11pm: vibe time baybee

here’s how it turned out, roughly.

got coffee, it was very fun. barista is making it very hard to not have a crush on them by simply existing. how rude! took belle to the vet, everything was fine and dandy, as i figured. came home, had a bagel with spinach and eggs, cleaned the kitchen, it was fantastic. my brother ended up needing to ship out his christmas gift to his friend in croatia, but his classes weren’t over until 1:30, so i was like no worries! i’ll just go study for my final till your classes are over, just let me know. i ended up reading absolutely nothing and getting sucked into whatever fucking dumb shit exists on the internet. i also picked 3 therapists from our network and emailed them, introducing myself, and asking for quick interviews next week to see if we’re good fits, because i want to start going to therapy.

i was very excited by this development. it’s taken me over a year of saying i would go to therapy for me to finally get the courage to reach out. at about 12, i went into my parents’ room and said “guess what? i’m finally starting therapy!” and my mother, without missing a beat, says “oh, sorry we did such a bad job raising you. why do you need therapy? i thought we did a great job.” i was fucking stunned. i was like, “woah, no! this isn’t a reflection of you. this is me finally taking care of myself, i have personal things i need to work through. however, i do think that therapy is useful to anyone, and i think everyone should try therapy, at least once,” to which she had the brilliant insight, “there’s nothing wrong with me. should i just make something up about my family and go talk to a stranger about it? is that what you’re doing?” and my dad was like, “hey, that’s not what she’s saying” and my mom basically went off saying that i was weird for thinking that everyone should try therapy, and that i didn’t actually need it, and that it’s weird that i’ve been to therapy twice now, wasn’t complaining to that high school counselor that my parents were so strict enough for me?

those quotes are as close to word for word as i can get, i’m pretty sure it’s exactly what was said. the conversation lasted less than a minute, before i said “i think i need to excuse myself,” and walked away. i came and sat at my desk for i don’t even know how long. i looked at myself in my phone camera, and my face had become so translucent, it was almost green from my blood veins. i walked up to my window and contemplated trying to take the screen out to climb out, but i realized that if i did jump, it would be in my neighbor’s driveway, and that felt really insensitive, so i walked away. i sat back down at my desk and contemplated all the reasons my mom was right, before i realized that she wasn’t right. i have finally realized that i’m not fine.

i’m a depressed, suicidal 20 year old with undiagnosed adhd and ocd, a diagnosed eating disorder, and i’ve been a closeted lesbian for 13 years. i have every right to feel not okay. i didn’t need my mother’s permission to go to therapy, i have my own health insurance and i’m an adult who feels the need to ask for help, and that’s okay.

so i did what i do best, and spewed verbal diarrhea onto my private snap story about what happened and how i’ve been feeling these last few days. my brother’s classes ended early, so i took the opportunity to leave the house as soon as possible, and we took as long as possible to get to the fedex drop box, before i dropped him back at home and kept driving around, trying to process how i felt. i didn’t return either of my textbooks. i think i’m just going to send the one i bought in october after christmas, idk when it’s due but i can’t deal with the fucking lines at the post office anymore. i walked up to the post office, looked at the winding line into a building where the lovely hicks in my hometown refuse to wear masks, decided i wasn’t ready to get covid yet, and went to deposit cash so i could buy weed. i’ll just bite the $40 and buy the one that was due today, maybe i’ll give it to someone next semester.

i got home and responded to my friends’ responses to my story. i got an overwhelmingly positive and loving response from my friends. every single one stuck up for me, supported me, and shared that they’ve been feeling similarly. which is heartbreaking, i can’t believe that all of us have been dealing with this so privately! but anyway, that’s a tomorrow issue.

after i did that, i was ordering my weed when barista texted me, saying they had a question for me, which, when you have a major crush on a coworker with a girlfriend, is a very concerning text to receive. turns out, they just made me earrings! they walked their dog to my house and delivered the insanely cool polymer clay snake earrings. when i greeted them with a hug, they pulled me in so close, literally every part of their body was pressed against mine and my cheek rested on their head so perfectly. they’re on the shorter side, probably 3-4 inches shorter than me, but so strong. the way their arms felt around my back was wild, it was so tight but so gentle but so firm but so, so warm and soft. their hair was soft but frizzy and smelled like them and a little bit like an argan oil shampoo and a little like coffee. their eyes are so much more intensely ice blue in the sun. they hugged me the same way goodbye, and we chatted for a good portion of the evening, about our coworkers and being homeschooled and being nerdy high schoolers and the earrings.

i finally got one chapter done before dinner was ready at 8:30pm, which is late, even by our standards. after dinner, as i was decorating a sugar cookie named gerard, my parents kept making snarky comments about me being a stoner, and i was like yes, bold statements coming from the parents that just used my account to buy a tincture and edibles. anyway, i came upstairs and tried to read more but i’m too emotionally exhausted. eve ended up giving me a call, finally, and filled me in on her life, which is always crazy but i love to hear her voice, so it’s okay. then i learned a tiktok dance, which left me concerningly out of breath, considering it’s only been like 4 days since i ran and i can’t be that out of shape? but i showered and did my skincare routine and made sure my laundry was in the dryer before i sat down to start this.

it’s now 11:20pm, and i’m very proud to report that i am no longer angry with my mother for what she said to me. i’m sad that it’s how she feels, but i recognize that what i’m going through is something she will never understand, as a straight woman who, while prudish, has a healthy relationship with drugs and sex. i love her, and i forgive her, but i’m going to talk to her tomorrow and hold her accountable for gaslighting her already unstable daughter. what she did wasn’t fair, and it hurt. i know she probably feels insecure because she definitely does have things she knows she should go to therapy for, i know for a fact that she faced a lot of childhood and adolescent trauma and i would personally love to make sure she’s in a healthy place with it. but i can’t force her to, obviously, so i have to just hope that she doesn’t project on to me too much in the coming weeks.

i’m exhausted, and i think i’ll go to bed. i feel good about how i handled today, i caught myself in time to think through my actions before i did something completely unwarranted and unhinged. i know that at the time, my brain was in flight mode and i couldn’t cope immediately so i just followed the “i want to die” instinct because it was the strongest, but i still had enough of my logical brain in gear to have forethought. look at you go, prefrontal cortex! knowing that the part of me that is still healthy and wants to live is strong enough to put the kibosh on that maneuver is enough to give me hope that i will be okay someday. i never thought that i would be someone to be experiencing things like this. i really thought that people were being dramatic, if i’m being totally honest. now that i’m experiencing it, i understand. i’m sorry that i didn’t have more empathy.

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nitrateglow · 7 years

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Halloween 2017 movie marathon: The Mummy (dir. Karl Freund, 1932)

“Do you have to open graves to find girls to fall in love with?”

In 1921, a British expedition in Egypt unearths a mysterious mummy and an ancient document known as the Scroll of Thoth. The mummified man was known as Imhotep (Boris Karloff) and buried alive for sacrilege. One of the younger archaeologists reads the forbidden spell on the scroll, bringing Imhotep’s corpse back to life. The archaeologist goes mad from fright, and both Imhotep and the scroll disappear for a decade. In 1932, the disenchanted half-Egyptian socialite Helen Grosvenor (Zita Johann) returns to the land of her mother. Her presence does not go unnoticed by Imhotep, who has integrated himself into normal society under the identity of Ardeth Bey. Imhotep believes Helen to be the reincarnation of the Egyptian princess he defied his gods to love. Using the Scroll of Thoth, he strives to destroy Helen’s body and possess her soul so that he may be reunited with his long-lost lover, but Helen, her suitor Frank Whemple (David Manners), and Egyptologist Dr. Muller (Edward van Sloan) fight to keep the past in the past.

When most people think of the mummy as a movie monster, they imagine a bandaged husk with glowing eyes that prowls about slowly, killing people too stupid to just outrun it. That or Brendan Fraser. Or Universal trying to cash in on Marvel’s success with cinematic universes in the most shameless, desperate way possible. These images do not apply to the original The Mummy from 1932. Far from a cheesy schlock-fest, the original Mummy has aged rather well. In his Trailers from Hell review, make-up artist Joe Dante claims The Mummy is probably the most modern of the classic horror movies in terms of its sophistication and “pop poetry.” On a technical level, I would argue that it surpasses Dracula and even Frankenstein, with its fluid cinematography and understated use of background score. On a storytelling level, it is creepy and even Romantic in the early nineteenth-century sense. It’s hard for me to pick a favorite classic Universal horror movie, as so many of them range from good to great in quality, but for me it’s a toss-up between The Old Dark House and this haunting film.

Pretty much all the classic Universal horror pictures are gorgeous to look at, but The Mummy is stunning in its use of chiaroscuro and evocation of macabre atmosphere. The camera drifts slowly through the moody sets, giving the images a sense of depth not often found in early sound cinema. The cinematography and editing are often brilliant too, though in a rather understated way. “Understated” might be the best word to describe the entire film; from the get-go, it takes its time in getting us to the action, setting up the suspense from the first scene, where a group of archaeologists unearth Imhotep’s mummy and are told not to recite this spell that will bring it back from death. You just know one of them will! This quiet sense of dread, that something terrible will happen any moment, is suffused throughout the picture, lending it a genuine creepiness that works to this day. It relies less on cheap scares or things going bump in the night, and more on suggestion and mood; this may be the secret of how it has weathered the years well.

The Mummy is a true gothic story, not only because it features classic gothic tropes and images (tombs, premature burial, vengeance, forbidden desire, religious iconography, etc.) but because above all it is concerned with how the past lingers in the present—or as William Faulkner once put it, how the past is never really past. This happens on a literal level with, well, the movie being about an undead priest in modern Cairo seeking to recreate a romantic relationship cut short centuries ago. However, the past concerns all the characters in some manner. At the beginning of the film, Helen describes her surroundings as “this dreadful modern Cairo.” Johann’s detached quality gives the character a sense of displacement, as though her heart were elsewhere. Though it’s never explicitly stated within the movie itself, one could almost believe the princess persona was trying to emerge even before Imhotep walks (back) into Helen’s life. Helen’s modern love interest Frank admits he “sort of fell in love with” the ancient Egyptian princess who’s tomb he has helped unearth; he transplants this desire onto the living Helen, the next-best thing to the long-departed princess of his dreams. Helen, Frank, and Imhotep all yearn for the past, for something dead, but only the latter goes to evil extremes to achieve this goal.

Imhotep is such an underrated horror icon and Karloff truly shines as this tragic villain. While he was menacing as the drunk, horny butler Morgan in The Old Dark House, he was a very small part of a larger cast, and The Mummy allows him to take center stage with a worthy follow-up role to the Monster in Frankenstein. Initially appearing as the bandaged, slow-gaited figure we all know from pop cultural osmosis, Imhotep spends the lion’s share of the movie as the tall, imposing wizard who integrates himself into Egyptian society as Ardeth Bey. We never see Imhotep choke the life out of someone or stalk folks in the night. Like a proto-Darth Vader, he is able to strangle his enemies from afar using magic. His intense, glowing stare is uncanny, emphasizing his otherworldly menace and mystery. Yet despite his mystical power and height, Imhotep is physically weak. His face is wrinkled, his body thin; we also learn that his flesh can literally crumble right off his bones because his magic can barely keep him together. While the movie never gets graphic about Imhotep’s decaying body, the suggestion alone is eerie, especially when Helen finds this out for herself. After being grabbed by her one-time-lover, Helen notices that Imhotep’s hand leaves behind ashy residue. All the glamor of “eternal love” vanishes.

Imhotep is at once inhuman and yet deeply human, a guy who’s okay with cold-blooded murder yet seeks nothing more than to be with the only woman he ever loved. When he shows Helen the events of their doomed past life love affair in his mystical pool, there is a muted anguish in his voice. Even more tragic is the comparison between the stiff, aloof Imhotep of the present and the warm, very animated Imhotep of the flashback scenes. In the past, Imhotep kneels before the dying princess and kisses her hand before tenderly bringing it to his face with all the familiarity of a lover. In the present, Imhotep cannot even touch someone without physically falling to pieces. He lives forever, but it’s only a half-life, where even his love is twisted into something possessive and fatal. I have always wondered what Imhotep planned on doing had he succeeded in bringing his princess back; I don’t think he even thought that far. He is a man obsessed with stasis, unable to accept that a life worth living involves change—death is only part of that cycle. He isn’t interested in anything new and cannot come to terms with loss, which traps him in a kind of eternal death rather than eternal life.

The other standout performance comes from Zita Johann as Helen/Princess Ankh-es-en-amon. Johann took on few movie roles and hated Hollywood until she died, but her work in The Mummy is phenomenal, for Helen is one of the most fleshed-out of the Universal horror heroines. No screaming, passive damsel, Helen is a haunted woman, troubled enough to be seeing a psychiatrist regularly (we’re never told why, though her melancholy and obsession with the past provide the audience some good inferences) and smart enough to view Frank’s awkward flirting with healthy though good-natured skepticism. When she first meets Imhotep, she is mesmerized, and I don’t think that only comes from his magic powers. Johann projects a sense of weariness and yearning; she’s someone who wants to be engaged in the modern world and live a full life, but there’s something deep inside holding her back, more than likely the lack of closure from her life in Ancient Egypt. There are few histrionic moments in her performance; like Karloff, she mostly underplays the role, lending Helen a sense of dignity and maturity. She gives the illusion of having an inner life that few other 1930s horror leading ladies possess. She’s also active, fighting back against Imhotep even as she is initially tempted by his promise of eternal love. As much as her heart yearns for the passion they once shared, she’s wise enough to know there is no going back and not just because Imhotep is now an amoral heap of rotting flesh. I don’t want to spoil the film’s climax, but let’s just say, Helen does not lie back and wait for the male characters to rescue her.

I have returned to this movie again and again throughout the years, always hypnotized by its quiet power. Some people find it boring or too slow, but fans are captivated by that tortured love story and the confident, ahead-of-its-time filmmaking on display. The Mummy has been resurrected several times as both proto-slasher schlock and bombastic summer blockbusters, making the original film stand out even more. This is a quiet, slow experience with all the qualities of a dream. The movie wasn’t a success when first released; filmgoers likely expected a quicker pace and more outright scares. Nevertheless, time has mostly been kind to The Mummy (excepting the nasty imperialist overtones) and it remains one of the best horror movies of the classic Hollywood period.

#the mummy #the mummy 1932 #classic horror #classic film #horror #zita johann #boris karloff #karl freund #pre-code hollywood #thoughts #halloween 2017

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give-me-a-thousandkisses · 7 years

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Sam Twitter Q&A

Q: Happy anniversary being cast as JAMMF /do you own rights to your audition tapes? If so will you share with us OL fans? A: I actually saw them recently. Gabs sent them to me. Spooky... black hair Jamie!

Q: Hi Sam! Are there any stunt- or action scenes for you in your new project? Greetings from Outlander "Kaffeeklatsch" A: Its an "action comedy!!!" I love stunts....

Q: One word to describe Jamie in season 3? A: He's anyone BUT JAMMF....

Q: I'm coming to Comic Con. Can you save me a seat in the panel room? A: Ask @jennadewan !? #SeatKeeper

Q: Is it true ~ did you get your hair cut? A: Maybe maybe not. Movie magic?!

Q: How do you spend your time on long plane flights sleep/read/study scripts? A: Sleep. It's a great oppertunity to catch up! And maybe a wee dram...

Q: Will you do another Barbour event in NYC? A: Working on it! Can't wait for you to see my @Barbour collection for Autumn Winter this year!

Q: Do you have anything else in the pipe line but the Spy movie going? A: So many projects, in different fields, exciting but hard to keep up!

Q: *Tweet unavailable* A: I wanted to stay, had planned too but unfortunately had to leave, only saw Zebras (cool!) and Springbok (wandered onto our set!)

Q: Have you talked to @caitrionambalfe lately? A: Who?

Q: What accent are you using for Spy movie? A: Hungarian

Q: What are you craving right now? A: Sipping on an April Spritz... mmmm

Q: Hey there did you actually get seasick while filming S3? A: Afraid not... But pretending to throw up raw eggs quite a few times can set someone off!

Q: Would love to hear you narrate an audiobook! Is that something you would consider? A: Already done! @cassieclare #ShadowhunterAcademy

Q: Your FIRST thought on learning that you had been cast as Jamie Fraser? A: I was over joyed and didn't realise what a wonderful adventure it'd be. So so lucky

Q: Anymore tennis games coming up with @caitrionambalfe ?? But u can't cheat next time A: Table tennis? I'd have to let her win.... :)

Q: What's it like working with Kate McKinnon? Does she keep you lol? A: She's SO cool and funny! What a pro.

Q: Turtle Soup or Print Shop? A: Wait and see......

Q: Would you ever consider an interview/experience with @BearGrylls ? A: Where do I sign up?

Q: *In reply to getting seasick* @nicrasenti: pfft he did. Ask the bucket on the ship deck, he tells a different story... A: Didn't you play the bucket?

Q: Does the next @Barbour campaign have pups? How have you managed not to steal one? 12/10 would dognap! A: I'm still trying.... Would love one!

Q: Any bruises or injuries filming the Spy movie? A: Nothing major.... Risky business though!

Q: Do u like star wars?????

A: Do you?! More Star Trek...

Q: Waiting for @SamHeughan to notice my friends like...

A: Well.... where are they?!

Q: Can you do a #handstand? A: Actually I've been learning but at the moment no, I'm rubbish! Unless against the wall...

Q: Are you ready for the So Cal heat? #SDCC2017 A: I CANNOT wait!!!!!! So excited for @Comic_Con !!!!

Q: Ever been jalouse at Catriona Balfe? A. Im like ALWAYS totally ja-louse. ;p

Q: Are you dancing at the @MyPeakChallenge Peakers event? A: Who's asking? I'm dancing.

Q: Have you ever wanted to play Shakespeare? A: I have in the past and would love to be back on stage.

Q: I'd think you would fit right into Game of Thrones... would you be up for it? A: What character? And could they film in Scotland?

Q: Dream meal? A: Right now I've been craving mexican! Margaritas!

Q: Did you ever thought that MPC would reach so many people in the world like it's reaching now?what do you think about it? A: So so happy, with the research projects we've funded and the community and support people give each pother. More to do!!!

Q: If you could be on a reality show, which would you do? A: The Bachelorette

Q: When are u starting to film season 4? A: This Fall...

Q: Wasn't the water too cold in the scene where you have to hide in the River? #Outlander A: VERY cold... ahem

Q: Did you watch Valbo on tv? A: Hehehe I loved watching him in pain. ;)

Q: Thank you for always being so gracious A: No THANK YOU!!! You are all amazing. So blessed.

Q: *In reply to being on The Bachelorette*: @MrStevenCree would be so jealous unless you picked him. A: Very quiet from Mr Cree tonight.... suspicious!

Q: @MrStevenCree: Hi @SamHeughan , I'm sitting with @grahammctavish If you could take us both on a date anywhere in the world, where would it be?

A: Somewhere they'd have trouble letting you in...

A: @MrStevenCree: Ah yes, I get it. So we could cut to the chase and head straight home. Good thinking.

Q: @rosiedaydream Where can I buy some whale? A: I know a guy. No cash. Credit only.xxxx

July 9th, 2017.

#sam heughan #twitter #q&a #post

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fearofaherobrine · 7 years

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Roleplay Server Log #291

"Cn Molts, Snapshot Issues, The Flash Drive, Notch in Lj's Domain”

[CN] Is busy pulling apart the pages of a book and shredding them-

[Firebird] -Walks across the room to look at what CN's demolishing- .. What doing, CN?

[CN] Chirps and proceeds to pull apart another page, pushing some of the shredded parts in a rough formation of a nest-

[Firebird] Ah, nesting. Your nest will just fall apart like this, bud. -Pulls a chair up and starts fiddling with the paper mess, weaving the shreds into a more firm nest-

[CN] Watches curiously as he jumps around a little. He then starts prepping more materials-

[Firebird] -Adds materials as they're given, making the nest bigger and more appealing.-

[CN] Scratches himself, and then scratches again a bit more vigorously-

[CN] Panicked noise as he pulls a feather out-

[Firebird] -Looks at CN, pauses- ... Are you molting, CN?

[CN] More panicked noises, he has no idea what's going on-

[Firebird] -Reaches over and gently scoops CN to him, gives the bird a few testing rubs-

-Some feathers are loose and ready to come out-

[Firebird] Yeah, you're molting. Remember when I said birds naturally loose their feathers?

[CN] Little nod-

[Firebird] That's what you're doing. You're molting.

[CN] Long sustained worried screeeeeeee-

[Firebird] Nono- It's fine. They grow back.

[CN] Hunkers down farther into Firebirds hand and tries to reinsert the feather he pulled out-

[CN] Doesn't really succeed-

[Firebird] Stop that. -Takes feather from CN and sets it aside-

[CN] Flaps his wings a bit angrily-

[CN] He hops out of Firebirds hands and tried to grab the feather again-

[Firebird] Are you really going to do this? -Just moves the feather out of the way-

[CN] Angry noises-

[CN] He opens his mouth wide and makes multiple screeching noises-

[CN] Flaps hard and manages a short hop flight to Firebirds shoulder-

[Firebird] Are you hungry? Is that why you're being a little turd? -Head turned to look at CN-

[CN] Another screech-

[Firebird] I don't have any food on me.. -Sighs and gets up, moving through the tree to the cooking layer, shuffling about to find something that would be easier for CN to eat. When all else fails, there's always seeds.-

[CN] Hunkers down before attempting a big leap to the counter-

[CN] Lands poorly and goes sliding along the counter, a few more feathers coming out as he does so-

[Firebird] -Trails after CN- A for effort. Yeah.. You're definitely molting. -Picks up the scattered feathers and sets them where CN can't reach before rummaging in a chest under the counter- Hm...

[CN] Attempts the flight to get the feathers-

[Firebird] -Pops back up with a few things in his arms-

[CN] Flips onto the counted trying to look innocent-

[Firebird] ... -Squints at CN-

[CN] Chirps-

[CN] Is eyeing the feathers-

[CN] Decides food is now important at the moment and hops over to Firebird-

[Firebird] -Has started making birdfeed hell out of various seeds-

[CN] Isn't sure about what he's looking at-

[CN] Scoots closer and take a tentative peck-

-It actually doesn't taste that bad-

[CN] Starts scarfing it down as quickly as possible-

[CN] Once finished eating he starts heading back towards the feathers-

-There's a sudden knocking on the front doors to the Mojang office-

[Tokig] Goes to answer it, and looks through the tall glass door- Hello?

-There's a female officer outside-

[Officer] - Hello, my name is Officer Licht, I'm here to speak with Mr. Bergensten- Holds up a badge

[Tokig] Jeb? He's here someplace. - He does the passcode- Did someone hit his car? Oh no! Is his wife and child okay?!

[Licht] - No, this has to do with a missing persons case

[Tokig] Oh, okay. This way please. - He heads past Dofta's office and there's some cheerful chatting from within.

[Yster] Walks by with a coffee cup and makes a suspicious face at the officer-

-Jeb's office is empty-

[Tokig] Um.

-There's the sound of a toilet flushing and Jeb comes out of the bathroom-

[Jeb] Oh! Hello?

[Licht] - Mr. Bergensten I presume?

[Jeb] Yes? Is there some kind of problem?

[Licht] - Mr. Bergensten I'm Officer Licht and I'm here to talk to you about a missing persons case

[Jeb] Um... Who's missing?

[Licht] - Markus Persson

[Jeb] He's not missing. He's just out of the country. He had some medical issues.

[Licht] - That's not what the records show us. Other than the automatic payments made for bills, rent, and other such items, he has not made a single transaction.

[Jeb] So? He's got cash out the wazoo. Do you have any idea how much he sold out for?

[Tokig] Slinks away as they're talking

[Licht] - There has been no action from his card and he has not physically visited his bank either

[Jeb] Then it's some kind of mistake. I promise you he's not missing.

[Licht] - It's a mistake? Highly unlikely for how long it's been happening. It would have been noticed on the bank summaries. We've also been to his apartment and it show's signs of struggle and having been left rather suddenly

[Jeb] So he's a slob. It's not like he has a girlfriend or anything.

[Licht] - Shelves ripped off a wall are not slobbiness

[Jeb] Did he get robbed maybe? Since he hasn't been home for a while?

[Licht] - All things of value are still there Mr. Bergensten. The only activity we've seen coming from him is his phone records, all of which lately have been to this office or to people in this office. And they do not originate from out of the country

[Jeb] Then he might not be telling me the truth about where he is, I'm not his mom. But I have spoken to him recently. So he's not missing.

[Licht] Narrows her eyes- Then call him

[Dofta] Comes surrying up [Tokig told her what was happening]

[Fangbo] Is clutching her phone and looks determined. -

[Jeb] At them directly - The officer here wants us to call Notch.

[Fangbo] Why? He's working on a huge project and he's really busy. I just spoke to him myself less then an hour ago.

[Licht] - Doing what?

[Fangbo] You know what a machinama video is right?

[Licht] - Vaguely

[Fangbo] He's making a movie. A gift for the fans.

[Licht] - And that takes up all of his time? Not even time to call for take out or go to the store for food?

[Dofta] Dry look - I guess you've never done 3D modeling...

[Licht] - No I have not. Can I see what he's been working on?

[Fangbo] Holds up her rather large smartphone and scrolls through some still shots. There's Flux and Stevie holding Cp and Yaunfen grinning hugely, and Endrea looming menacingly from the top of Lie's house- These are just test shots, but his signature character modeling is obvious-

[Licht] - I see, but I do know that human's have basic needs and he seems to be meeting none of them at the moment. So I'd still like to speak with him

[Fangbo] Fine- She dials the phone and it rings on the other end.

[Notch] Got out of the tub and is half dry and getting dressed. - Hey Fangbo, what's up? Do you have more update news for me?

[Flux] Goes to take her mist form to reform next to Notch and finds that she can't- Oh dear, it appears I've been affected by this update as well...

[Notch] It's okay, I shouldn't be long.

[Fangbo] There's an officer here that's looking for you. It seems someone reported you missing.

[Notch] Oh...

[Licht] Holds out her hand for the phone-

[Fangbo] Passes it reluctantly-

[Licht] - Mr. Persson? This is Officer Licht

[Notch] Markus here. Can I help you with something?

[Licht] - Yes, can you tell me you're whereabouts at this time?

[Notch] I'm staying with friends.

[Licht] - Where?

[Notch] Am I not allowed to be a rich eccentric? I dropped off the grid because I didn't want to be bothered.

[Licht] - And yet you've haven't made a single transaction other than your automatic payments

[Notch] I had a mattress full of cash and set out on a walkabout. It's my right. This isn't a police state.

[Licht] - Mr. Persson, would you be so kind as to take a picture of your current whereabouts?

[CP] His ears are tuned towards the conversation-

[Notch] Not right now, no. I have a filter set on my camera and I'm using it for a project.

[Licht] - Mr. Persson this is not a request

[Notch] What are you going to do, arrest me for being unhelpful? I'm a busy man miss, and I can afford the best of lawyers.

[Licht] - Sir you are currently considered a missing persons, it is my job to find where you are and clear any misconception

[Notch] Look... I've got my hands full at the moment. Call me back in an hour and I'll send you a picture. Hell I'll send you a short video. I promise. Let me finish what I'm doing so I don't have to set all this shit up again from scratch.

[Licht] - I will require you to show yourself in this video as well Mr. Persson, but I still need an address so we can verify where you are

[Notch] I'll think about it. Just call me back. - Hangs up the phone

[Licht] Stares at the phone, incredulous- Think about it?- She scowls- If he calls back, you are to let me know immediately- She hands Jeb a card

[Jeb] Palms the card, still in shock.

[Fangbo and Dofta] Are trading nervous looks-

[Licht] - I'll show myself out- She passes Fangbo's phone back to her as she passes

[Notch] Stares at the phone. - Fuck....

[Flux] - Is everything alright?

[TLOT] You need a photo of yourself in a place that looks real?

[Notch] I've been reported missing. A police officer just called trying to verfiy where I am...

[Lie] - That's no good...

[Steve] Little bark from Steve-

[TLOT] That's... brilliant...

[Steve] Beams-

[TLOT] whispers into Notch's mind.

[Notch] Gets a resolute look

[Lie] - What is it?

[Notch] But I need to look like I did before...

[TLOT] You were kinda fat.

[CP] - What are you guys talking about?

[Stevie] Is just running around-

[Notch] And my hair....

[TLOT] I'll put it back

[Notch] Makes a sad face

[Flux] - What needs to be done exactly?

[Notch] I have to shave my head.

[Flux] - Shave?

[TLOT] Remove. Make it bald again.

[Flux] - Would you like me to do it?

[Notch] I don't want to do it at all. But if you have a quick way, go ahead.

[Flux] Climbs out of the tub, her robes forming around her. She reaches up and runs her fingers through his hair, letting a bit of her magic course through it- There, now nobody will be able to tell

[Notch] Reaches up and can still feel the invisible hair. - Thank you Flux.

[TLOT] Beckons him over and puts a paw on his belly, drawing it out to give him a little gut again.

[Notch] Ugh...

[TLOT] Doc has some street clothes in hir room.

[Lie] - I don't like this...

[Notch] I hate it too. But if it gets them off my back... Cp. I need you. No bullshit or running away. Please.

[CP] - What for?

[Notch] To protect me. -

[Steve] Gets off of Cp and backs away respectfully-

[CP] - And how the fuck am I supposed to do that as a cat?

[Notch] Because you're a creepypasta - Picks him up and starts to walk away-

[CP] - Still don't know what you want me to do as a cat

[Notch] Heads up from the lab and goes back down into Doc's room. He's never been in there before and LH mews at them from the bed-

[CP] Hisses at LH-

[Notch] Pokes around and finds a black jacket and some black pants. He puts Cp on the bed and hops around putting them on.

[LH] Mew?

[CP] Growls-

[Notch] Pats Lh and picks Cp up again to go back up the stairs- Doc has some weird shit in their trunks....

[CP] - Gee, really?

[Notch] Heads outside and starts hoofing it down the road that follows the coastline. They're already running short on time.

[CP] - Still have no idea what you want me to do...

[Notch] Breaks into a run and heads around the bar before stopping at a rather ominious gate and looking at the foreboding trees beyond. - I need you to get me inside safely.

[CP] - LJ's circus? Your funeral

[Notch] It's real in there. From what I've heard. Good enough for a photo.

[CP] - And an abandoned circus won't seem weird to an officer?

[Notch] I'll try and keep the trees in the background. It's afternoon here, hopefully it's the same time of day in there?

[CP] Should be unless LJ is in a mood...

[Notch] Should I... knock?

[CP] - Nah, just walk right in

[Notch] Okay.... - He squeaks open the gate and closes it gently before venturing into the trees.

[CP] - Times running low~

[Notch] Moves a bit faster-

-The tree's go from blocky to natural in a near imperceptible shift. Circus music can be heard in the distance and the tops of tents can barely be seen-

[Notch] Reaches the open gate and looks down at himself. he looks as real as he did irl - That should be good enough-

[CP] - So go ahead and take your picture

[Notch] I think she'll want more then that. And we should probably talk to Lj so he'll know we're here and not attack me while I'm on the phone or something-

[CP] - Eh we'll be fine

[Notch] Bites his lip and looks around uneasily-

[CP] - Tick tok

-After a few moments Notch's phone begins ringing-

[Notch] Picks up - Hello?

[Licht] - Mr. Persson, I assume you've fixed the filter problem on your phone?

[Notch] Yep. I'll take a selfie right now. Choose your expression so you know I didn't have it saved-

[Licht] - An orgasm face

[CP] Sputters out a quiet laugh-

[Notch] Just delete it afterwards please. - He puts Cp down and tries for a decent o-face before snapping a pic and sending it-

[Licht] - I've got the photo. Now where are you?

[Notch] In the country, like literally. Nowhere middle-of. Staying on a farm with some friends. I'm not taking house shots though, they just got the kids down to rest and I've gone down the back 40 to avoid disturbing anyone.

[Licht] - An address Mr. Persson, so that we can check on you and confirm

[Notch] No. I have my reasons. I don't want to be found.

[Licht] - Mr. Persson, I am trying to do my job

[Notch] I realize that. Look- he turns the video recorder on his phone and shows himself and sweeps it around a little to show the trees before sending it- I'm fine! I'm fitter then I have been in years and I feel great. I'm not missing, and no one should be worried. You haven't asked me to prove my identity so presumably you know that's not an issue. I like my privacy.

[Licht] - Mr. Persson in order to confirm that you are safe and not in danger I do need to physically meet with you

[Notch] I'm not in the same country as you. That might take a while...

[Licht] - Which country are you in then?

[Notch] I'm not telling. But if you HAVE to see me. I can meet with you in a few weeks. I have to come back to Sweden briefly anyway.

[Licht] - Can you be more specific?

[Notch] No. I'm busy. I'll do my best, but I need more time.

[Licht] - As soon as you know, you need to tell me

[Notch] Is this a good number to reach you?

[Licht] - Yes, it's my work cell

[Notch] Then I'll stay in touch. Anything else?

[Licht] - If you are in trouble and can't say so out loud, do not hesitate to text me

[Notch] Absolutely. Understood.

[Licht] Then hangs up on Notch-

[Notch] Stands there for a moment glaring at his phone and then lets out a loud frustrated yell.

[CP] - Satisfied?

[Notch] No, not really...

[CP] - So, where are you going to hang out while you become physical again?

[Notch] I don't know. I don't want to burden Jeb. I guess there's always the bunker. Doc usually seems willing to watch over people.

[CP] - You do realize that your apartment is still an option

[Notch] Someone has to stay with me though. And they might be watching to see if I come back there.

[CP] - It's up to you- Lazily flicks his tail

[Notch] Unless you think one of the Slenders would be willing to lurk and do some mind-wiping, I don't think it's a good idea.

[CP] - I mean, Splender probably would, but he's also pretty absent minded

[Notch] I know... His hearts in the right place though. Honestly.... I kinda wish you cared enough to sit with me....

[CP] - Again not much use as a cat

[Notch] If we had the update files then you wouldn't be a cat anymore.

[CP] Irritated tail flick- Fine, but only because I can torment Jeb while getting the files

[Notch] Thank you Cp.

[CP] - Wait here- He opens a portal into Jeb's office

[Notch] Just leans against a booth. It's getting darker. - Trust me, I'm not going back in those woods alone.

[CP] Slips out onto Jeb's desk, looking around-

-The office is quiet, and the door is slightly open-

[CP] Slinks towards the door-

-There's a faint noise from the rotunda, just quiet chatting -

[CP] Quietly trots down the hall and keeps to the shadows-

-Dofta, Jeb, Fangbo and Tokig are sitting on the benches chatting intermittently, they're also sharing a six pack of beer that looks like it's been sitting in the breakroom fridge for a long time.

[CP] Tunes in on their conversation-

-They're just worried about Markus, but unsure how to help him. Fangbo is getting a little praise for her off the cuff lies about what Markus had been doing.

[CP] - What have you morons gotten into now?

[Tokig] Little fearful yelp-

[Jeb] Looks around wildly-

[CP] - Because of you, now he has to go through the rather painful process of becoming physical again

[Fangbo] Stands up - Where are you? We did our best!

[Dofta] She was just going to keep pushing. We can't just... just.... murder nosy people!

[CP] - ... Yes you can

[Tokig] Looks very afraid-

[Jeb] No you can't dammit!

[CP] - But it's so easy~

[Fangbo] Starts looking around for Cp-

[Jeb] Psycho....

[CP] - Look down idiot

[Fangbo] Does so- Oh! - she points and Dofta comes rushing over-

[Dofta] What a cute little kitty!

[Jeb] He's not cute. He's mean as fuck.

[CP] Hisses at them-

[Tokig] Hides behind a potted plant-

[Fangbo] Did you come here just to give us shit Cp?

[CP] - No, we need another copy

[Dofta] What happened to the other one?

[Jeb] Copy of what?

[CP] Turns away- It... May have fallen into the tub when I flipped my wife in...

[Dofta] You threw your wife in the tub? That's not nice.

[Fangbo] Good one. Geeze.

[CP] - Hey, she started it

[Fangbo] I guess she's settlign into the griefer lifestyle. She is a brine after all.

[Jeb] Copy of what?!

[Dofta] We need a flash drive with a copy of the newest snapshot.

[Jeb] Fine. I'll go do that.

[Fangbo] Sits down on the floor-

[Dofta] Does the same- How come you're a cat today?

[CP] - Because of the damn snapshot!

[Dofta] Oh! Sorry... If it's any consolation, you're a really handsome cat.

[CP] Growls a little-

[Fangbo] Well don't get mad. She's just complementing you.

[Dofta] Is turning her can of beer against the stone floor with a soft scuffing noise. It's something dark and pungent, and the smell is wafting from the can-

[CP] Sniffs at the can-

[Dofta] Do you want some?

[CP] - I normally don't drink that piss water...

[Fangbo] It's pretty heavy, a cream stout.

[CP] Gets closer to the can and sticks his nose in the opening-

[Fangbo] I think there's a cereal bowl in the breakroom. - She stands up and walks away for a minute and then comes back with one of the unopened cans and a small bowl. She cracks it and it foams as she pours it into the bowl-

[CP] Starts lapping it up, a reluctant purr starting up-

[Dofta] Lifts her own can and takes a pull of it-cheers, it's been a shitty day.

[Fangbo] Amen to that.

[CP] - You don't know the half of it

[Fangbo] Is also drinking- Preach it. We're listening.

[CP] - I hate this form for starters, plus I was forcefully given a bath, had sex interrupted, and was pinned down by a dinosaur

[Dofta] And I thought missing the bus and getting rained on was a bitch.

[Fangbo] A dinosaur? I'm suprised you're not flatter then a lilly pad.

[CP] - A raptor, and that asshole was only using his chest to keep me pinned down

[Fangbo] That's some bullshit. Why is there a raptor on the server anyway?

[Dofta] Who gave you a bath?

[CP] - Ask Jeb, he probably knows better than I do, and Notch gave me the bath

[Dofta] Markus gave you a bath? Who bathes a cat anyway? - drinks- They're self-cleaning. It's part of the perks of having a cat!

[Fangbo] I will-

[CP] - Only thing I'll lick is my mate

[Dofta] Chuckles- Sassy!

[CP] - And I still haven't gotten more sex...- About half the beer is gone

[Fangbo] Well presuming Lie isn't pissed because you shoved her in water she might warm up once you're fixed, right?

[Dofta] Isn't she a cat too? Can't you just.... cat bang?

[CP] - No idea, and yes, but TLOT currently is curled around her

[Dofta] How come? Is it just a solidarity thing?

[CP] - She gets cold easily and was wet

[Dofta] Hey... TLOT's a shapeshifter right? Is he stuck as something too?

[CP] - Yup, a big gay golden cat

[Fangbo] Chuckles - Sounds fabulous.

[Dofta] Aww big kitty warming the little kitty.

[CP] - Fucking getting his scent all over my wife...

[Dofta] I take it that's why you didn't join the cuddle pile?

[CP] - No shit

[Jeb] Comes back into the room a little bit too fast and trips on the junction between the carpet and the stone flooring, the little flashdrive tinks on the floor and skids over close to them before spinning to a stop- Ow....

[Fangbo] Geeze Jeb... You only had one beer.

[CP] Scoffs before going over to the drive and picking it up-

[Dofta] There you go. I hope your day gets better Cp.

[Jeb] Incredulous eyebows-

[CP] - Yeah yeah, fucking whatever

[Fangbo] Grabs the other unopened can- We sent your wife with a sandwich. Do you want something for the road too?

[CP] - Don't need it

[Fangbo] gives the can a gentle drunken roll towards the cat-

-It pops into CP's inventory as he heads towards a computer-

[Notch] Is sticking close to the booth since it's a source of light as the sun goes down-

[LJ] Appears silently above him and grins as he begins extending his long arms down-

[Notch] Nervously hugs himself-

[LJ] Begins tickling Notch's sides-

[Notch] Incredibly girly high pitched scream and tries to run away, he's a bit slower since TLOT made him heavy again-

[LJ] Just starts laughing- Oh that was wonderful!

[Notch] Stumbles and looks back clearly terrified-

[LJ] - What's wrong?

[Notch] Shrinks a little- You just... I'm a bit on edge anyway... And Cp's not here...

[LJ] - Oh? And what's he doing the old sourpuss

[Notch] Calming down a little- Getting a copy of an update for the server. We got a bad one and all the shapeshifters are stuck in their secondary forms.

[LJ] - Is that so?

[Notch] Sorry to intrude on your space. I had to take a selfie in a spot where I look like I'm irl.

[LJ] - Oh? And why is that?

[Notch] Wilts a little- Some cop is looking for me. I got reported missing. I was trying to fob her off for a bit.

[LJ] - I see, do you want me to take care of her?

[Notch] Nonono, it's okay.... I have to go out anyway. Put some affairs in order. I just know it's painful and I've been putting it off. - He hugs his knees a little.

[CP] There's a bit of a crackling as CP returns-

[LJ] Takes one look and just bursts out laughing-

[Notch] Did you get it?

[CP] - Yeah, now let's go

[LJ] Falls to the ground from laughing so hard-

[Notch] Is he okay?

[CP] - He'll be fine

[Notch] Follows Cp - If you're sure.

[CP] - Positive, let's get this to Doc so I can get back to being human

[Notch] Nods and scoops him up into his arms- Just tell me which way to head-

[CP] - Just keep going this way

[Notch] I think that might be the only time I've ever heard you eager to find Doc for any reason.

[CP] - Shut up

[Notch] Where do you think we should look?

[CP] - Fuck if I should know

[Notch] But you're good at finding people, aren't you? You're psychic.

[CP] - Ask TLOT

[Notch] Over chat- TLOT? Can you tell me where Doc is?

[TLOT] They're near the castle, but I think they're asleep because their thoughts are a bit disordered

[CP] - Well that narrows it down...

[Notch] Actually it does. Doc is big as a dragon. They'd find a big clear spot to sleep, so probably either the desert or the spawn.

[CP] - Then let's go

2 notes · View notes

project-ml · 7 years

Photo

Project: Scrapbook — Horrificator (Part One)

Project: Scrapbook Masterpost (tbp)

Comic By: @daughterofthestars08 (lineart) & @artgraveyard (lineart and color) & @chalala-chan (color)

Written By: @purr-cat-stinate & @mimosaeyes

Beta’d By: @miraculousandcute & @emeralddrop

Summary: N/A

Words: 5671

Despite the chilly season, the sun was already gracing the citizens of Paris with its warm rays of sunlight that poured from the clouds down onto the earth. It was a lovely day, perfect for picnics, and walks in the park. It was a lovely day to discover something new; or perhaps to create something new.

Nino Lahiffe was bouncing in his seat, earphones around his neck, and fingers drumming against the desktop impatiently. Of all the days his best friend had to show up late, it would be today. OK… technically Nino was early, but how could he help it! Apricot eyes wandered to his bag, and a grin stretched out across his face for the millionth time this sweet, sunny morning. It had been nearly impossible for him to sleep last night - and as soon as his alarm went off in the morning he was ten feet out the door (that is, until his mother grabbed him by the arm and had him sit down for some breakfast).

His brain was going a million miles an hour, and it seemed the impatient tapping was his body’s way of letting out the energy in a somewhat subdued manner. The excitement was eating away at him. He had to tell someone before he exploded… but of course, for some reason Adrien wouldn’t answer his phone last night - and Alya was busy chasing Ladybug and Chat Noir as they defeated another akuma. Oh! Nino’s eyes widened, and he quickly took the flyer out of his bag. It was crumpled, and had a water stain on it, but it was brand new in Nino’s eyes.

The flyer read: Short Film Contest for interested youth! Create your own twenty-five minute short film, and submit it to Mayor Bourgeois. It can be anything you’d like, romance, action, or comedy! The winner will receive ninety-five euros as well as your short being shown on television. Good Luck!

Sure - he didn’t really have an idea yet, or a script, or well… anything… but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a chance! Nino was sure he’d be able to direct the best short film ever - and he could even make an awesome soundtrack for it. This was totally his chance to rise up as a performer and a director! Not to mention he had Paris’ favorite teenage model on his side.

It took five dreadful minutes before Alya walked into class, a trail of tiredness on her face from her journalism adventures of the night before. She gave Nino a quick greeting as she slipped into her seat, stretching her arms as she sat. Nino turned in his seat, wanting to ask if she has heard of the short film contest, considering she was usually in the loop with… well, everything. However, Alya beat him to the punch as she leaned forward, looking more awake than before now, and she gave him a proper good morning.

“Morning Nino- so did you see the Ladyblog last night? I got some pretty crazy shots.”

Nino wavered, he last time he checked the Ladyblog was yesterday afternoon, because after that he found the flyer in the mail and got distracted with the idea of a short film. It didn’t seem to matter though, because Alya showed him her phone anyway, urging him to watch the clips she had gotten.

After a few clips of Ladybug saving Paris, Adrien walked in - looking even more tired than Alya did if that was possible - and that’s when Nino remembered the flyer that sat on his desk. His blond friend groggily gave a “G’ Morning…” as he sat in his seat. Nino wasted no time in shaking his half-asleep friend by the shoulders, shocking him in the process.

“Dude! I have to show you this-” Nino shoved the flyer into Adrien’s face, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

“What is it?” Alya asked, trying to peer over to get a glimpse of the crumpled flyer now in Adrien’s hands. It was Nino who responded.

“It’s a short film contest! Whoever makes the best twenty-five minute movie wins money and their short gets run on tv!”

Alya blinked in surprise, a grin forming on her face. “No way, that sounds awesome!”

“Right! And I’m going to win it”- Nino threw an arm around Adrien’s shoulders- “because I have a secret weapon.”

The blond blinked. “What?” he stammered, then did a double take in realization. “Me?”

The director-to-be nodded, grin unwavering.

“Er... I don’t know, I haven’t really done any acting-” Nino quickly cut of his friend with a dismiss wave of his hand,

“Please, you don’t have to. Lights, cameras, action - it can’t be too different from modeling right? And you totally owe me dude! For ditching me like every time we plan to hang out.”

Adrien grinned sheepishly and held up his hands in a conciliatory way. “Alright, okay- I’ll do it.”

A sigh of relief left Nino, before he took back the flyer and smoothed it out. His apricot eyes reread the flyer, his excitement resurfacing once more.

“I’ll totally help you too, if you’d like - I can even get Marinette to help too.” Nino smiled at Alya, who leaned forward, chin on her hand, as she watched the two’s interaction.

“That’d be awesome, thanks!”

Just then Marinette stumbled through the door, drawing her friends’ attention momentarily. Her hair was unkempt, and she was completely out of breath.

“Geez, girl, you barely made it here on time.” Alya’s sea green eyes followed her friend as she nervously gave a morning to Adrien and Nino, before plopping in her seat next to the journalist.

“I know, I woke up late - again.”

Alya snickered, expecting as much.

“Of course you did. Hey, but guess what Marinette; Nino’s making a short film and I volunteered us to help him.”

Well, that seemed to wake her up. “Wait - what?”

Nino handed Marinette the flyer. “The winner gets a cash prize and a TV showing!” The more people he told about the competition, the more the excitement bubbled up in his chest.

The short girl looked between the two. “I don’t know anything about making a movie though.”

Adrien smiled. “Me neither, but I kind of owe Nino.”

Alya watched with a sly smirk as the gears in Marinette’s head clicked together. A warm blush quickly spread across her face.

“I-I’ll do w-what I can!”

Alya and Nino shared a knowing look with one another, a matching expression on their face.

“Oh, you’re doing the short film contest?” A loud voice cut into the group’s conversation from the side, the whole classes eyes quickly turned to it’s source.

Not surprisingly, there stood Chloe Bourgeois with Sabrina behind her, both wearing a matching expression of mockery.

Nino looked over to the blonde who stood with her hands on her hips and resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her all mighty attitude. “Chloe.”

“Hmph, puh-lease, you’ll never be able to win the contest.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

The blonde huffed, her arms crossing over her chest. “My daddy is the judge of the contest, in case you didn’t read the flyer. Without me, you’ll never win it.”

Alya rolled her eyes. “Why would you want to join us?”

Chloe scoffed, almost like she was offended to be asked the question. Sabrina mimicked the sound, crossing her own arms over her chest to be the mirroring expression of Chloe.

“Be-cause, Adrien is going to be with you right? If you add my good looks and popularity with his, it’s a for-sure win.”

Marinette huffed quietly, and Alya opened her mouth- ready to kick the princess off her high horse- when Chloe quickly started again.

“If you don’t let me join - I’ll make sure your stupid little film doesn’t even get glanced at.”

Nino gaped at the blonde in front of him. Rich people were so self-serving. Nino was the last person who wanted to feed into Chloe’s wishes, yet if he didn’t she would sabotage his film!

“Chloe-” Adrien shot his old friend a look of outrage and disbelief, but she shut down all his arguments with a resolute coldness.

“Fine, you can join us. Whatever - just, like, don’t screw anything up.” Nino sighed in defeat, not wanting the blonde to suck the excitement out of the project.

“Moi? I never screw anything up.”

The four mumbled their own disbelief of that, but Chloe chose to not hear them.

“Hey did you guys say you're doing a short film?” Alix couldn’t help but lean over, interested. “I could help you out if you need anything - like I could be the person that holds that ‘take’ thing. I’ve always wanted to do that.”

Alya shot Nino a look, which he returned with a grin.

“Yeah - that’d be awesome. The more the merrier.”

On the other side of the classroom, Juleka and Rose had been listening idly to the conversation, unable to tune out any classroom confrontation. At Nino’s words, they leaned forward in their seats to enter the discussion. Rose’s eyes were gleaming with excitement.

“What about me and Juleka? Could we help? I have a tea collection at home I could bring!”

The taller girl mumbled something, but only “scary movie expertise” was really audible.

“Er- Yeah! That’d be great.”

Within seconds nearly the whole class had dropped into the conversation and began offering help. The excitement Nino felt this morning resurfaced, threatening to overflow his heart. Surely with so many people helping to work on the short film, it would be a success! Nino spared a look over to Chloe, who filed her nails as she chatted loudly to Sabrina about how her diamond earrings kept getting stuck in her ear. Not even she could ruin the project if the whole class was working to make it great.

Just as everyone was starting to chatter away about their roles in what had quickly become a class project, though, Ms. Bustier walked into the class, calling for their attention. Nino quickly sat back in his seat, but not before telling everyone to meet in the classroom after school. His classmates dispersed back into their seats, all whispering excitedly about the new movie project.

The director-to-be began putting the flyer away as Ms. Bustier called for attendance. His mind was anywhere but at his teacher’s lecture at the moment; instead, he was thinking of all the ways they could make a short film. Should it be sad? What about funny? Did he want comedy or maybe something more serious… or perhaps an action movie?

Nino’s apricot eyes sparkled at the idea. An action movie sure sounded like fun, maybe with adventure and slight romance?

“Nino!”

The boy jumped in his seat at the sound of Ms. Bustier's voice.

“Y-Yes?”

The teacher sighed, “Please pay attention when you hear your name being called.”

“My bad - sorry du - uh ma’am.”

Nino let out a sigh as she went on calling the names of the other students. Adrien gave him a reassuring arm nudge, to which the boy gave a quick smile before leaning his head on his hand. Hopefully his ideas could wait until after school.

It was wishful thinking. Nino spent all of the school day with his mind on the short film. He tugged the increasingly careworn flyer out of his bag at odd intervals, unwittingly giving Alya much fodder for teasing him about the lovelorn expression on his face. The margins of his notebook were also entirely given up to scribbling random ideas that popped into his head throughout the day, from lines of cool dialogue to sketches of how he would set up each scene.

By the time the last bell rang and everyone began gathering again around his desk, Nino practically had a sales pitch in mind for the plot of his short film. He cleared his throat as he flipped open his notebook, quickly organizing his thoughts.

He surveyed his classmates and noticed to his dismay that Rose and Juleka both had their backpacks slung over their shoulders already.

“Rose, Juleka, aren’t you staying to hear my awesome plan?”

“I have to rush home to get my makeup set. I need to make sure I have everything we’ll need,” Juleka replied.

Rose chimed in, “And I should get refreshments for everyone pronto! We can’t work if we’re all tired out from school.”

They both made good points, but surely everyone needed to be on the same page if they were going to work as a team, right? Nino opened his mouth to say as much, but before he could speak a word, his classmates had started drifting out the door.

Alix went off to get the clap-board she had at home, Max to fetch his shiny new stopwatch, guaranteed to ensure efficient timekeeping, and Kim to borrow a boom mic from Theo, his friend and occasional DJ. Finally, Nathanael muttered something about art supplies and fell into step beside them.

Alya glanced at Nino’s expression and promptly intervened before they totally lost control of the film making process. “The rest of you can stay, right? We can catch the others up on what we discuss now, but we should make sure we’re all agreed first.”

There was general agreement, even from Chloe, who deigned to let her arms fall from where they had been crossed over her chest. Nino sent Alya a brief look of gratitude.

“I was thinking something like an action movie.” Nino’s eyes shone. “The main character is an agent for this top-secret organisation, who fights bad guys and is totally badass. They could be code named something ordinary, because their identity has to be a secret. Say, Agent Smith.”

“Ooh, or we could have just one bad guy in particular for two agents to work together to defeat,” Alya jumped in.

“Well, not just any garden variety bad guy,” Adrien piped up unexpectedly from beside Nino. When everyone turned to look at him, he seemed taken aback at the attention and hurried to elaborate. “Parisians are used to seeing crazy akuma villains, so if you want to make the action sequences intense, it should be a monster.”

Marinette quickly responded, “Yeah, that sounds great! I’ll text Nathanael to ask if he has materials to make a monster mask with.”

“Good stuff, good stuff,” Nino muttered thoughtfully, adding the new input to his notes. He tapped his pencil against his notebook. “What if the two agents were in love?”

“Nino, no.” Alya’s face set into a resolute expression.

“But every good action movie has a romantic subplot-”

“That is so not true-”

“-and how great would the ending be if, like, one of the agents was in life-threatening trouble, and then the other one saved them, and then they fall in love?”

“There will be no sappy love stories on my watch!” Alya exclaimed.

The two had a bit of a face-off, narrowing their eyes at each other, until Marinette, reading her text message conversation with Nathanael off her phone, hesitantly distracted them from their bickering.

“Um, Nath asks if Agent Smith needs a cape. Personally, I don’t think so, but what do you guys think?”

Nino broke his long glare with Alya to glance at Marinette. “Aw, why not?”

Adrien leaned back in his seat to gaze up at their raven-haired classmate, and she blushed slightly under his scrutiny. “I was just thinking that capes are really bad for moving around in. A secret agent would wear something combat-ready, more tight-fitting…”

“Like Ladybug and Chat Noir,” Alya said in agreement, nodding her head. A quick peculiar gleam shined in her eyes and she scrunched her face up into a disapproving gesture. “No capes!” she declared, in an impeccable impersonation of Edna Mode.

“It’s been ages since I’ve heard anyone make a reference to The Incredibles,” Mylene giggled from the other side of the table. She had been quiet up to that point.

“Speaking of movies and references,” Sabrina cut in, “maybe we need to do some research before we get into writing the script. I could help you with that, Alya.”

Alya was just leaning over to peer at Nino’s notes. “Oh, I think we’ve already got plenty to work with, Sabrina,” she replied absently. “Maybe you could ask Juleka if she needs any help when she gets back.”

Sabrina withdrew slightly behind Chloe, feeling a bit down as she was unable to help.

“Maybe we could decide on some roles first, and then split up and work on it separately?” Nino suggested, trying to sound directorial and authoritative.

“Well, Adrien’s already been cast, and I bet Marinette would make a great Agent Smith…” Alya suggested, giving her best friend a sly look.

Marinette flushed. “N-no, Alya! You’re the one who’s always wanted to be a superhero and say cool one-liners, like - like looking right at the monster and saying, ‘I’m not afraid!’”

Adrien gave a low whistle. “That’s a great line, Marinette! We could build Agent Smith’s character arc around that.”

“Th-thanks, Adrien.”

“Yeah, Adrien, thanks! Character arcs, now we’re talking!” Alya reached out and grabbed hold of Nino’s notebook, whipping out a pen and beginning to draft a plot structure for the film.

Chloe had been watching them all with an air of mild disdain. At a moment’s pause in the discussion, while Marinette looked bashful and Alya and Nino were bickering again over the notebook, she looked directly at Adrien, fluttering her eyelashes. “Well, if we need a lead actress to work opposite Adrien, surely I’m the best candidate,” she declared.

Alya and Nino paused in their squabbling, both of them clutching the notebook. They shared a look of total agreement. “So… anyone else?”

“What about Mylene?” Ivan said quietly.

Chloe huffed, giving her classmate a skeptical once-over.

“M-me?” Mylene stammered, surprised to find everyone’s attention suddenly on her.

Alya leveled a considering gaze over her usually timid classmate. “Yeah, I can see you as Agent Smith, or what we have about her so far,” she mused. “And isn’t your dad kind of like an actor? Maybe it’s a skill that rubs off!”

Everyone started nodding thoughtfully at that. Only Chloe was against it, beginning to seethe. “Her?! She’s so small and timid, what about me! I can actually string a sentence together without stammering.”

Mylene had unconsciously stood a little straighter at her classmates’ approval, but sagged again at Chloe’s contention. “She’s right... isn’t Agent Smith supposed to fight a monster? I don’t think I would be able to.”

Ivan and Alya chimed in at the same time: “Mylene, no, you’ll be fantastic!” “It’s just pretend anyway, no need to worry.”

Nino nodded along and then said, “Alright, I’ll put Mylene down as Agent Smith, and Adrien down as… Officer Jones. They’re the closest thing we have to professional actors. Now, who’s going to be the monster?”

Chloe gave a snort. “That’s not going to be a problem. Ivan wouldn’t even have to act – he’s already been a monster.”

“Chloe!” Adrien protested, furrowing his brow at his old friend, who merely shrugged.

“It’s okay,” Ivan cut in unexpectedly. “If Mylene knows it’s just me in the mask, maybe she won’t be as scared.”

“Speaking of masks!” Uncharacteristically excited, Nathanael had returned holding a large armful of art supplies from his house, ready to make the monster mask and anything else they would need. Trailing behind him were their other classmates with the materials they had each fetched from home. Rose began setting up a refreshments table at her desk. Alix and Kim were in charge of technical production affairs, and stuck to Max’s side as he set his fancy stopwatch to warn them at regular intervals. Finally, Juleka approached with various makeup items, which she promptly dumped all over Nino’s table.

“So I have some DIY ooze if we want to make monster goo or something, also fake blood – that’ll come in handy – oh, and I picture Agent Smith as a weathered, really experienced type, so maybe a scar over one eye to add some mystery and cool factor? I can work on backstory, I have so many ideas…” The normally hushed girl spoke without taking a breath, though her voice was still muttered, she rapidly continued with makeup terms no one really understood.

Nino blinked. Alya stared.

“Girl, it’s a short film.”

“Just stick to powder or something,” Nino said hastily, using his entire forearm to nudge Juleka’s unexpectedly substantial supplies to one side. “Or er- foundation, is that what it’s called? You know, just make our actors look good.”

Juleka pursed her lips and, gathering up her belongings, sulked off to Rose’s table. Nino could almost have sworn he heard her muttering, “I will be the powder master, you fools,” under her breath.

“Can Agent Smith have a dog?” Rose suggested sweetly.

Alix snorted despite herself. “When does a secret agent have time for a dog?”

The smile on her classmate’s face wilted slightly. “I just think it would be cute.”

Max glanced up from his stopwatch and pushed up his glasses. “Rose,” he started, trying to be gentle, “we don’t even have a dog.”

Rose’s face grew more crestfallen. It made Alix squirm, and rush to say, “We could always… pretend there was a dog. Who, um, died. But it was - it was so cute.”

Juleka gave a contented smirk despite her powder dilemma, seeing Rose light up again. “Hey,” she said, nudging Rose to remind her of their inside joke, “we could call the dog Mr. Sniffles.”

Neither of them bothered to explain the context to their classmates.

“This is perfect for Agent Smith’s character development, though,” Alya muttered, scribbling away indiscriminately at Nino’s notebook, which the he had finally surrendered. “After losing her beloved pet - Mr. Sniffles - Agent Smith vows to have her revenge!”

“What,” Kim finally interrupted, still clueless as to the plot. Nino began explaining it in earnest as Alya buckled down and began drafting the script, with Marinette peering over her shoulder all the while.

Nathanael tapped Marinette on the shoulder, drawing her attention away from Alya’s script writing. He shifted his weight nervously from foot to foot, holding out his sketch pad to her. “So I was thinking of this design for the monster mask,” he announced, all in a rush. “It would be sewn together, see, kind of stylistically?”

She nodded eagerly, looking over the clear lines of his steady artist’s hand. “It looks amazing, Nath.”

The boy flushed almost as red as his hair. “Would you happen to have any scrap fabric at home? I know you design clothes and all…”

Juleka leaned over to peer at the design. “Are you going for like a Saw reference at all?”

He blinked at her in surprise. Secretly, he had rehearsed talking to Marinette, but wasn’t expecting someone to drop in on the conversation with his secret crush.

“Um, I don’t know what that is,” he confessed.

Juleka looked mildly horrified. “You need a horror movie consultant,” she proclaimed, and then proceeded to dragged him away to make modifications to the mask’s design.

Meanwhile, Ivan and Adrien were standing in one corner of the classroom with Mylene, letting her practice some frightened expressions, then some determined looks. They praised her and gave her constructive feedback, which she received with a look of tentative pride in her newfound thespian prowess.

Sabrina interrupted Juleka and Nathanael’s designing. “Hey, Juleka, um… I know a lot about makeup, maybe I could…?”

Absorbed in the sketch pad, Juleka barely looked up and only faintly sounded resentful as she replied, “Oh, we only need to powder the actors, apparently, so I don’t need any help with that.”

It was Nathanael who noticed the look of disappointment on Sabrina’s face. “You’re good with research and computers and stuff, aren’t you?” he inquired hesitantly. He didn’t usually speak to Sabrina much; she was nice enough, but her allegiance with Chloe meant she was often accomplice to various mean things the other girl did to their classmates.

Sabrina nodded earnestly.

“Well, you could go to the library and type up the pages that Alya is coming up with. She may be a good writer, but her handwriting isn’t too great, and we’ll need multiple copies for everyone to refer to.”

The redhead was rewarded for his effort by the look of sheer joy on Sabrina’s face. It was the perfect task for her. She ran off to talk to Alya, and Nathanael turned back to his designs.

Nino watched them all with a look of approval, then cast around the rest of the room. Alix and Kim were already bickering, unable to coordinate the clap-board with the boom mic, and totally forgetting about issues of lighting. Sighing, Nino went over to break it up and remind them of all technical aspects of film making. He would handle the soundtrack himself, of course, but amateur gaffing and blocking were all tasks they had to keep in mind. He couldn’t be micro-managing; it wasn’t good for team spirit, and wasn’t his style anyway.

“Fine, Mum,” Alix drawled at him as he walked away from the resolved confrontation, and he gave a good-natured grin in return.

Was this what it meant to be a director?

By the time Nino had made one round of the room, he was assured that the class as a whole was bumbling along and making steady, if uncertain, progress. He returned to the back row, where Max was sitting alone for the moment, waiting with his stopwatch.

Max touched his arm. “Hey, Nino, when is the deadline for the film anyway?”

“Well that’s easy enough to answer, it’s…” Nino hesitated and pulled out his flyer, scanning it for the information he needed.

His eyes widened. Max probably knew what he was going to say before he opened his mouth from the sheer panic on his face, but Nino said it anyway, loud enough for everyone to hear. “OH MY GOD- IT’S DUE TOMORROW. Move it, people move it! Meet back here in twenty minutes with everything set up, every prop made!”

Within the minute everyone was rushing about trying to get it all done.

Alix and Kim fell into a team rhythm as they set up for the filming- much to Nino’s relief. Rose got all her refreshments in order by name, and helped to organised all of Juleka’s makeup kit so that no stray brushes ended up in the background of a scene. Marinette and Nathanael, meanwhile, made a run for the scrap fabric back in her bedroom and presumably used her sewing machine so as to finish the mask quicker.

In the chaos, Nino grabbed hold of Sabrina as she dashed out of the classroom with an armful of Alya’s script to be transcribed and printed in bulk for everyone’s reference.

“There’s this one last minute change, okay Sabrina? Just add it in,” he muttered under his breath, slipping her a post-it note discreetly.

“Why are you whispering?” she demanded, eyes widening.

Nino’s gaze flicked over to Alya, who was gathering her pens and shooing everyone away from the front of the classroom, where they would shoot the first scene.

Sabrina had read the post-it note before Nino could reply. “Wait, you wrote in a kiss between Agent Smith and Officer Jones! You’re changing the script!”

“Not so loud!” Nino hissed, mortally terrified that Alya would hear. “You can’t tell her, alright, just make the change and print it out, then it’ll be official.”

Sabrina looked dubious. Conspiratorially, Nino leaned in and looked right at her intently. “It needs this, alright? Trust me.” He patted her on the shoulder. “I trust you to make the right choice. Think of all the greats. Steven Spielberg-style. Everyone puts in a little romance.”

Sabrina hesitated only a moment longer, then looked determined. “Okay,” she declared, hitching together all the papers in her arms. “Leave it to me.”

She scurried off, imbued with a greater sense of purpose than she’d had all afternoon.

The time flew by in a blur. Max announced it every time another five minutes had passed, keeping everyone in a flurry of activity. Chloe spent the twenty minutes whining about how slow everyone was, even as she herself merely perched atop a table, preening in the hope that they would all see the error of their ways and make her lead actress after all. Despite Ivan’s continued assurances, Mylene started to have a mini nervous breakdown as the time for her big acting debut approached. They were all fraying a little in the rush.

Still, at the end of Nino’s twenty minute deadline, Nathanael and Marinette had miraculously reappeared with a killer mask that satisfied Juleka and fit Ivan’s head perfectly. And Sabrina had come back, fingers shaking slightly from excitement and exertion, having typed up the entire script speedily and printed out enough copies of it in the school library for everyone to use.

Max flipped through his copy quickly, scanning through it and musing, “Agent Smith is kind of like John Wick, is that okay? That movie was really kind of violent.”

Alya got defensive. “It’s different enough not to be plagiarism, plus we don’t even have a dog. And John Wick is like a dog superhero, fighting all those goons to avenge his pooch.”

“OK, PEOPLE, PLACES.” Nino interrupted, and then added in an aside to Marinette, “I always wanted to say that.”

The first try was an utter disaster. Mylene nervously stumbled through her lines, obviously reading from cards that Rose helpfully held up. Adrien fared no better, missing his cue after Mylene’s line- leaving quite the long pause of awkward silence. That, and Kim sneezed about three times.

Alya sat at the desk, looking like she was trying to suppress a cringe, before casting a glance to Nino. The two shared a look of wariness.

“Cut- cut!” The up-starting director clapped his hands together, bringing the attention of his classmates to him. “Mylene, I know this is new to you, but you gotta sound more confident! And Adrien, bro, you gotta hit the mark with your lines.” Another sneeze came from Kim, who rubbed at his nose tiredly. Nino looked over to the athlete, “And Kim stop sneezing so much, dude.”

The three mumbled their own different responses, and thus everyone repositioned for take two.

Then a take three.

A take four.

Take five.

“DUDE!” Nino nearly ripped his copy of the script in half. “Do you have allergies or something?”

Kim rubbed his nose hastily, “Not that I know of... it’s just the light, man. Makes me sneeze when I look at it.”

Alix deadpanned, “Then don’t look at the light.”

“It’s hard when you keep moving it right into my eyes!”

“That’s where the shot is!”

“Hey, you guys!” The duo’s quarrel concluded and Nino once again stepped forward. “Kim, why don’t you go stand next to Alix that way you can get the sound and won’t keep sneezing.”

The athlete muttered an ‘okay, mom’ under his breath before begrudgingly standing next to the roller-blader.

Max checked his watch. “We currently have until tomorrow evening when this is due, which leaves us seven hours of daylight-”

Nino quickly clapped his hands together. “You heard the man! Let's get rolling!”

The scene was finally going smoothly, and Mylene was monologuing her ‘tragic past’ of losing her best friend, Mr. Sniffles, as she held a paper cut-out of a dog. With practice, the class got better moving around each other, quickly repositioning and setting up for the next scenes.

Jukela zoomed right up to Adrien the first opening she got, a makeup brush and powder in hand. Mylene went over to Ivan and Marinette, who continued giving her constant reassurance. Alix, Kim, Max, Rose and Sabrina changed the positioning of the equipment and made paper props with the help of Alya and Nino’s guidance; and Nathanael… well, he continued to make changes on the monster's mask, taking off certain embellishments and painting different colors on the hair.

The director barely spotted the artist hunched over the mask.

“Nathanael!” The boy looked up in shock, his eyes meeting Nino’s. “Dude, why are you still adding on details? Stop changing the mask!”

Nathanael looked down at a sticky note that he had pressed on the desk he was working on and looked back up at Nino with a frantic expression. “B-But… Juleka gave me all these references from horror movies. So many influences!”

Alya pulled the mask away from the artist. “It’s fine the way it is- plus, we don’t have time for it to dry.”

Seeing the boy deflate, Marinette gave him a comforting smile. “Hey, but it looks really good as it is!”

The storm continued, more scenes being shot with random bits of silence and sudden ‘CUT’s being yelled out. Everyone continued to do their best to avoid creating a problem except for Chloe, who may or may not have been flipping through the script and making random critiques.

About an hour in, Rose found her perfume bottle in her bag, and she sprayed a bit for Juleka to smell it as the scene was going. The raven-haired girl gave her a silent smile, nodding her head in approval to the sweet smell. The short blonde hair girl beamed brightly, spraying a bit more... and then a bit more- and then even some more.

Eventually the smell had worked it’s way to director Nino’s nose- as well as everyone else's- and suddenly their semi-organized production turned into a bunch of teenagers coughing and trying to air out the overwhelming perfume scent out of the room.

“Rose-” Nino gentle put a hand on the girl’s shoulder, who admittedly looked pretty horrified at what her perfume had done- “While I agree your perfume smells really nice, please, I beg you to stop spraying it.”

“S-sorry! I’ll make some tea for everyone, to make up for it!”

#project: scrapbook #miraculous ladybug #Nino lahiffe #alya cesaire #rose lavillant #adrien agreste

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aprilpillkington · 5 years

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We’ve all become aware of new netflix show, and more so,...

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We’ve all become aware of new netflix show, and more so, we’ve all most likely invested hours drew into the world of one TV show or another that comprises the steaming system’s extensive collection of material. With 75 million yearly customers, Netflix is a television powerhouse, house to some of the most high profile shows in presence. It is every television show maker’s dream to see their show sizzle in the houses of countless individuals throughout the world, and there is really no location preferred to make this take place than through Netflix … but getting this done is an exceptionally uphill struggle. How do you make it happen? It starts with the concept. You are going to need something pretty damn special, as the tv world has actually never been richer in imagination than it is today. But fresh ideas are out there, and if you believe you’ve got a good one then hang on to it firmly. You are going to have to flesh out your idea in detail, familiarizing yourself with all of the things your show would encompass, from characters to setting to style to plot. Getting your potential show out there does not mean you need to write a whole series worth of content, often you need only a terrific, well-thought out idea to hook the right people who can get you where you wish to go.

But, typically, you as the author will require to develop a coherent script for, at the very least, the pilot episode of your show. TV Production companies are rarely interested in an “concept”, as everybody has concepts. If you have the ability to swing into action and put your idea into a developed, thoughtful script, ideally a number of episodes, you are a lot more likely to catch the eye of a production business. These individuals wish to see that you have actually considered your concept and have adequate product to turn it into a possibly long-lasting television show. You are then going to want to contact a manufacturer or agent that finest matches the direction you see your show heading in. You should do comprehensive research to figure out which production companies and studios would be a great fit, who specifically you ought to get in touch with, how they like to be queried (email, fax, mail, and so on) and what exactly they are looking for in regards to material (comedy, drama, sci-fi, and so on) The absolute finest case situation is to pitch in person, if you can manage to find a connection to a producer or somehow handle to organize an in person conference– it is the simplest way to passionately pitch your show, and you will be there to be particular absolutely nothing is misunderstood and the agent/producer is clear on your ideas and visions. There are a variety of concerns you should definitely have the ability to respond to about your show prior to heading into a pitch. These include: How are your main characters and your characters’ world unique? How are these fantastic, intricate, conflicted, multi-layered, maybe flawed characters ones that the audience is able to end up being emotionally bought? Why do we care and why do we require to tell this story? What’s the tone of the show? Have the ability to compare to a netflix or movie if possible. Season one primary character arcs. An overview of the first season plot. How is this series sustainable over 100 episodes? (this is the golden mark to reach, because it’s where prod co’s can syndicate out the series; if you can’t show a minimum of a shred of wish to make 100 eps, it’s barely worth thinking about doing). How is this show various than shows of the same category that are on the air now? Specificity is essential. Who are your dream writers/directors/cast? (nearly every single tv show on the air has multiple writers/directors– so pick a few who are dealing with shows right now and think they ’d do well composing your show). Now, if you’ve got an agent/producer, preferably one who has ties with Netflix already, you are on track to getting your show on to Netflix’s radar. Your kind of representation will help in preparing your task to be pitched to the network. If this is successful, you will be able to sell your show to Netflix for a talked about sum of cash, along with work out a contract for an order number of episodes and payment as per the regards to the agreement. From there, it can take any amount of time to get your new netflix show up onto the TV screen, if it even makes it to that point. The TV industry is extremely unpredictable, with shows being picked up, produced and completely made only to be cancelled at the last moment.

How To Pitch A Show To Netflix?

Step 1: Think Up the Show. “Residue” began life as a concept in Harrison’s head. … Step 2: Financing the Show. The actual story covered by the very first 3 episodes of “Residue” is really various from Harrison’s preliminary strategy. … Step 3: Make the Show. … Step 4: Get the Show to Netflix. … Step 5: Make More of the Show(?). There are no set actions to creating a show and successfully getting it into the most sought-after streaming service. Numerous creators have actually taken various paths, as a great deal of it depends on connections/chance encounters, and what works for some people will not work for the other. It is very important to devote whatever you need to producing your show if this is something you really want to do, and following your gut and instinct in terms of picking a next action is exceptionally important. However, hopefully by following these steps you will give yourself the best possible possibility to make your tv-show deserving concept a truth. While the spring of 2015 has been controlled by Netflix releasing high profile series after high profile series, “House of Cards,” “Bloodline” and “Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt” aren’t the only new shows offered now for streaming. “ Residue,” created by John Harrison, premiered the other day on Netflix with 3 45 minute-long episodes. The genre series, starring “Game of Thrones” notables Natalie Tena and Iwan Rheon, tracks the aftermath of a devastating surge on the city of London and the government conspiracy that might be hiding the fact. (Netflix users might anticipate to see it as a recommended pick if they have actually enjoyed a great deal of “The X-Files” or other category programs.).

Via both phone and e-mail, Indiewire got a detailed breakdown of how “Residue’s” very first season arrived on the streaming giant, and what might take place next with the series. Step 1: Think Up the Show “ Residue” started life as an idea in Harrison’s head. He then brought it to manufacturer Charlotte Walls after a favorable experience working with her on the scary movie, “Clive Barker’s Book of Blood.” “ When [’ Book of Blood’] was ended up and launched, I went back to [Walls] and said, ‘Look, I have another concept that I truly want to do and I’m bringing it to you first because I would love to work with you people,’” he stated. And Harrison had a huge amount of product for the concept. “The thing I had actually visualized was quite a long story. The film that I was pitching them was essentially the start of the mythology, and with success we would have the opportunity to do more, so television sounded truly amazing to me, given how it has actually developed over the past numerous years– the novelization of television. Also, many of the networks are really getting creatively engaged with category product, which was not constantly real in the early 2000s and going back.” Step 2: Financing the Show The real story covered by the first three episodes of “Residue” is very different from Harrison’s preliminary plan. After optioning and establishing the product, manufacturer Charlotte Walls pertained to Harrison with the concept– and more notably, the cash– for a task that would function, in Harrison’s words, as “a proof-of-concept pilot.” “ Whenever someone states they have loan for production, you need to take it!” he said. According to Walls, “Residue” found its financing by means of International Pictures 4, Screen Yorkshire and Green Screen Studios. Due to the fact that a few of the money came from the UK, Harrison didn’t direct– they needed to make sure a certain percentage of the team was British. “We employed a really young gifted British director [Alex Garcia Lopez], who I had a great collaborative relationship with,” he said. “ [Lopez] is so key to the task, which brings his signature style. He was the hook for Iwan Rheon, who he worked with on 'Misfits,’” Walls stated. “ If we get to the next group and I’m able to compose them all and get them written before we get to production,” Harrison said, “Then it would be easier for me to drop back into the director’s chair.” Action 3: Make the Show sizzle

How do you bring on board understood players like Tena and Rheon? Harrison associated that to the script, along with its unconventional nature. “I think the combination of the product and the innovative group drew in all the talent. I believe everybody understood that we had fantastic ambitions for this also, so they wanted to get on board.” Those aspirations consisted of a non-traditional approach to the production, which caused a the project becoming both a netflix series and a film. “When we got it into post-production our supplier, Material Media, had a look at it and stated, 'Let’s … go straight to television,’” Harrison said. “So I wrote some extra scenes so we could pull, into these very first three episodes, a few of the larger conspiracy styles. We shot those and re-edited them into the 3 hours that are now airing on Netflix.”

“’ Residue’ is rather pioneering because it is genuinely multi-format,” Walls stated. “We scripted, shot and cut the project as a motion picture, which was released theatrically in the UK on March 20, 2015 on a minimal release. Whilst we were in post-production, we evaluated the product and decided to develop the three-parter as well, which was then offered to Netflix in this format particularly.” Step 4: Get the Show to Netflix How did that occur? Well, when “Residue” was completed in its newfound type as a television show, distributor Material Media brought the show to the October 2014 MIPCON, a trade show kept in Cannes that functions as a market for worldwide television. They likewise ensured that Netflix got an opportunity to see it in advance. “ That really began the sales pitch,” Harrison stated. “We had a number of entities who were interested in it, but Netflix wished to take it off the table.” The show is now offered for streaming in English-language territories; a global launch will present over the course of the year. In the meantime … Action 5: Make More of the Show(?). It’s actually just the start of the story, according to Walls. “’ Residue’ Season 1 is really an extended pilot and ought to be thought of that way,” she stated. “Netflix do not necessarily do the Amazon-style pilot season. However 'Residue’ is actually more in that design where these first three chapters are live before the existence of a full season.”.

How do I send something to Netflix?

Step 1– Improve Your Pitch For Netflix. Due to the fact that nearly every filmmaker dreams of getting a Netflix deal, there is an abundant supply of content. … Step 2– Discover An Aggregator or Distributor. … Step 3– Get An Action. Therefore the plan is to work towards a 10-episode 2nd season, and Netflix currently has the special alternative on it. Walls did clarify that since 10 episodes is a bigger dedication, there would have to be modifications. “Any full season would always be more standard in its financing as the general spending plan would be so much higher,” Walls said. “Netflix would be at the center of that financing plan from day one, for this reason the choice.”.

But independent funding has some benefits, and Harrison was happy with the experience: “It’s a great thing for someone like me, since creatively I’m solutioning to my partners as opposed needing to deal with a regular network structure. We made this without any disturbance from studios or networks. We were with the studio! That, to me, was really great.”

Four months after it was announced that Netflix would be investing CDN$ 500 million in original productions in Canada over a 5-year period, Netflix’s now previous VP of Content, Elizabeth Bradley, took the stage at Prime-time show in Ottawa to talk about how manufacturers can get their shows on the platform. It’s been 5 years because the commissioning of the very first Netflix Original series, Home of Cards, which had a spending plan of $100 million for 26 episodes. With its dependence on data that led to the show’s creation and promotion, Home of Cards marked a turning point in the way programs was made. Prior to the Canadian Netflix offer being announced, a variety of Canadian manufacturers had already had successful partnerships with Netflix. Some took the kind of extra windows for productions at first produced broadcasters while others were complete partnerships on Netflix Originals. To the latter category belong Travelers, Frontier, Alias Grace and the Anne of Green Gablesadaptation understood simply as Anne (when broadcast on CBC) or Anne with an E on Netflix. What is Netflix looking for?

When asked what Netflix is searching for in regards to category, Elizabeth Bradley replied “Whatever.”. Whether it’s sci-fi, a thriller, drama or funny or even a remake of Anne of Green Gables, she stated the key concerns writers and producers need to ask themselves are these: Why is it exciting? Why is it various? Bradley noted that once Netflix believes in the producer’s vision, the other pieces are secondary. “The package of directors and actors isn’t important to us.”. “ We can fix the cast and the director. What we can’t solve is amazing writing and storytelling.”. A story that resonates worldwide. Bradley continued: “When Moira [Walley-Beckett] and Miranda [de Pencier] concerned me with a script for Anne,” and it is very important to come with a script, she highlighted, “they had a genuine and grounded interpretation that we understood would resonate worldwide.”. And it wasn’t just the same old 1908 Anne of Green Gables. Vancouver-born Walley-Beckett came to the project with Emmy wins for her writing on the very 21st century Breaking Bad, so including some edge to the Anne character and narrative was all part of the plan. “We knew it would work worldwide,” said Bradley. That hunch turned out to be accurate. Anne with an E was among Netflix’s a lot of binge-watched shows around the world in 2017, with Prince Edward Island’s most well-known red-headed daughter winning over audiences as far away as South Korea, India and South Africa. So what does it consider a netflix original series to have an international appeal? Some believe that shooting in several locations around the globe resolves the problem, but Bradley cautioned that it’s not quite that simple. “ If you’re sitting with a good friend in Japan, and you both just get it … if you’ve got that sort of relatable story around the globe, that’s what we’re after.”. In addition to stories that work throughout cultural and geographical borders, there are logistical concerns to keep in mind when thinking about making a pitch to Netflix. For these factors, Bradley advises working with an agent, a manager or a legal representative. The value of partnering with a Canadian broadcaster or distributor.

The length of time should a TV show pitch be?

Your pitch ought to disappear than 12-15 minutes long. Concentrate on the hook of your show and why it would be a great suitable for their network. Your pitch should be as prepared as your treatment and your script, so practice it multiple times! In a January 2018 interview with the CMPA’s Indiescreen publication, Corie Wright, Netflix’s Director of Global Public law, shared a couple of more insights about working with the company that Canadian producers are most likely to discover useful. “ Many people don’t recognize that Netflix can’t make qualified CanCon without partnering with a Canadian broadcaster or independent Canadian distributor. That’s why all of our CanCon originals are co-productions with Canadian broadcasters. Other Netflix originals like the Trailer Park Boys reboot and Canadian director Tony Elliott’s movie ARQ include a lot of Canadian creativity and talent, and score high on CanCon requirements, however they aren’t accredited as CanCon since we can’t do CanCon on our own.”. Repeating the platform’s main interest in making the highest quality shows offered to a varied and dispersed audience, Wright stated this: “We attempt not to get too caught up in the labels and rather focus on making terrific movies and netflix tv show.”. TIP: Netflix and Hulu DO NOT want your “idea.” They desire your END PRODUCT. And even then, they only desire it if it makes sense for them. It resembles a book, individuals, I can not pitch them an unsolicited “idea,” since a million other people probably have the very same concept, and the last thing they want is for you to think they “took” yours, when it wasn’t even distinct to begin with. If you want to see your “idea” on Netflix and Hulu, establish a pilot, or produce a few episodes, or movie the movie. Once again, it resembles a book, the publisher wishes to see a finished manuscript, or at least some strong chapters …

We’ve all become aware of new netflix show, and more so,... published first on https://the4th3rd.tumblr.com

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dothewrite · 7 years

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Ringleaders - Chapter Two.

Here is the original ask for this prompt. Here is the announcement for this project!

Prologue. Chapter One. Chapter Three.

He’s been called many things in his short years of life- Kuroo is very tempted to start a list of the aliases and accusations that have been leveled at him for the past few years because they’ve definitely piled up along with an extensive bullet-pointed page of all his issues.

‘Vigilante’ made him laugh, ‘thug’ made him shrug, and ‘troublemaker’ made him grin. Tonight’s one of the thug nights, the streets seem to be teeming more and more with misguided youths and corrupt gangs, clashing in the atmospheric district of the water sewage system.

It’s their regular feeding grounds, but the term ‘turf’ caught on faster than intended. They have several in their keeping, thanks to the meticulous efforts of Kenma’s infallible surveillance, and it’s Kuroo’s job to pick them out by hand, plucking them from a spreadsheet like eggs. The area, and the feed. The water sewage is one of the roughest ones- a humid, harsh contrast between antiseptic and an honest stink of fermenting shit, it functions as a satisfactory lair for kids who can take the most from life- an interesting form of the crème de la crème. They’re found without much difficulty, hovering around in their small boy scout-sized campfire meetings, waiting for unsuspecting prey to come by. It frustrates Kuroo significantly to see such faulty planning, but he’s thankful for at least being better at something than the average population- and well, if they were all his caliber, they wouldn’t need him anymore.

He approaches, lies in wait, and pounces at the opportune moment.

“Kids,” he calls out to them in his usual slick, unassuming voice, and it doesn’t surprise him in the least when at least three of them jump to their feet at the insult, “is this really the place to be on a Wednesday night? What would your mothers say?”

“She doesn’t give a fuck ‘cus she’s six feet under,” one of the shorter ones snap at him, patting his baseball bat against his twitching forearm, “and I don’t think yours will mind after I finish in her.”

“Damn, is that the way to talk to a stranger?”

“Get the fuck off our land if you know what’s good for you,” and Kuroo stays exactly where he is. “The fuck are you anyway?”

He owes Oikawa a hearty thanks for forcing him to put up signs in this shithole too. Kuroo jerks his head over at one of the large vinyl sheets hanging from a railing. It’s smeared with crap, messed over with amateur graffiti, but it’s their ad nonetheless. Kuroo thinks it’s a small mercy that it hasn’t been torn off the banister and used as either a toilet or a sleeping mat yet. Such are the troubles of advertising in waste recycling.

“Are you boys angry about something? Making a point, maybe? Or is just this, y’know,” Kuroo waves a hand at them ambiguously, drawing large flippant circles in the air, “a really exclusive book club meeting? I’ve got suggestions.”

The boy with the baseball bat starts forward with a repulsive scowl on his face, hands gritty from too little washing and Kuroo can catch the dim, maroon patches staining the bat- not a beginner then, but a veteran of sorts. He watches carefully as the boy advances, the way his foot is placed solidly in front of the other at a good spread roughly the width of his shoulders, and he knows that if it comes down to it, it isn’t going to be such an easy fight. Kuroo flips part of his long, black trench coat to one side, and readies his fists for a difficult lesson.

A second boy suddenly steps in and Kuroo recognizes him as one of the kids in the back who’d said not a word the entire time. His eyes are wide, yet narrowed, but his lip is bruised enough to show that he’d recently been beat up, and he hadn’t gone easy with the lip chewing either. The boy with the bat almost swings it right into the kid’s face out of surprise when a small hand suddenly grips his arm and holds him back.

“What- the shit d’you think you’re-“

“I’ve seen you around,” the kid speaks quickly, eyes darting to and from Kuroo’s face, “they talked about you a lot- the old group I was with, but then they got swallowed up and I ‘aint heard from them since.”

Kuroo watches impassively. His organization doesn’t run a boarding school for misunderstood children, gathering letters to their parents to mail off every Sunday night. If teenagers are shit with communication, then they’re shit with communication. He clicks his tongue, and tells him so.

“Just sounds like he’s not that into you, kid.”

The kid bristles, looks like he’s about to spit something, but holds himself back. Good, Kuroo ticks a box in his head, self-control is always a good sign of potential. The kid turns to stare at their banner again, still vaguely legible underneath the layers of grime and filth.

“You’re with them, aren’t you?”

Kuroo nods. “That’s right.”

The eyes turn back on him again, and Kuroo keeps himself still, expecting the examination to come. Almost greedily, the kid swallows up the look of his face, tattooing it into his memory, and then the gaze travels lower, to his clothes, still cleaner than the rest of them combined despite the holes and tears, and finally they rest on the watch he wears. It’s the only thing relatively expensive on him- watches are such a pain to buy duplicates of- and for a second, the kid’s face turns hungry.

“We don’t hand out membership watches, sorry,” Kuroo drawls, his eyes not leaving the teen for a moment, “but you do get a goodie bag. Maybe a few more bonuses if you’re…” he pauses, roving his gaze over their makeshift campfire and sleeping bags, “living here permanently for the foreseeable future.”

“So you bribe your kids, huh?” The baseball bat guy speaks up from his frozen position, eyes blazing as if he’s finally caught something he can sell. “What difference are you from thugs then?”

“Pot, kettle,” Kuroo says, an eyebrow raised, “and you don’t get cash. You get to live somewhere else other than the fucking sewers, and maybe a nice, new, shiny bat for you. I’d say that’s an improvement from the whole lot of nothing you’ve got.” He pauses to let them gaze around morosely at their meagre belongings, torn between pride and disappointment, and soon the gazes drape themselves back over him like a leech to skin. “Look, I’m not going to waste my time here. It stinks, and it’s getting way past my bedtime, so.” This time he’s the one who takes a step forwards, and all the kids take one back. Eyes wide, to his enraptured audience Kuroo Tetsurou cuts an intimidating figure of a savior in this mess of reality. “You can all read. Banner. I’m just here to deliver. If you want something better, if you’re angry at the world like all teens should be, we can show you what it really looks like; lemme warn you, it’s going to be uglier than your little field trip here, so you decide if it’s worth it. You get a trial period of one week, then you make your choice. If you lot want to sleep here for the next six months until some gang picks you up and buys your virgin asses for a few twenties and a line of crack, then go ahead. I’ll pretend I spent my evening at home with some popcorn and lotion. If not,” he leans forward to close the height gap between him and the group of misfits. “If not, then you pack up your shit, and you come with me. Ride’s arriving in ten, so you better hurry the fuck up.”

They fucking scram. Baseball boy is the first one to jump into action, his face as bitter and sour as it had been ten minutes ago, but his feet are scrambling for purchase against the slippery tarp of a makeshift flooring, and the kid that had spoken up first follows in a close second. They don’t have much to begin with, scraps of what they had brought with them from a long abandoned-home; they were the ones that meant it, the ones who weren’t afraid of a little suffering. Kuroo knew better than most that most kids nowadays ran away for the shits and giggles, the romanticism of modern day movies and TV shows making it sound like the Sound of Music in the fields, but it wasn’t. Reality was sewage, dirt, weeks of not showering and a never-ending burn of rage for something inexplicable that kept them alive, kept them burning from the inside. These kids knew what shit was like, and they were exactly the type of people Kuroo needed.

He hadn’t moved from his position at all, spine still ramrod straight and he waits patiently as the kids line up one by one, tossing filled packs into each other’s arms like a well-oiled factory line, and he can’t quite hide his grin.

“Nothing quite like some youthful vigour,” he murmurs under his breath as he counts the total number of heads that are in a somewhat organized bundle in front of him. There’s nothing left behind, only the strips of ripped cloth and the embers of a once searing fire from abandoned wooden planks torn from buildings. There’s no eagerness in anyone’s eyes. Just a grim determination, a threat that if Kuroo didn’t deliver, there’d be hell to pay. It was a good look, and he was more than willing to take that risk.

“Let’s go,” one of the rougher looking kids barks, head twisting around carefully to see if there were any threats nearby. Kuroo wonders if their movement would possibly offend someone. “Where’s your ride?”

“Here in three,” Kuroo grins, and with a slow turn of his heel, he spins around and starts to head back out onto the open street, “let’s not get our panties in a twist, ladies.”

The wave of irritation almost bowls him over from behind, but Kuroo takes no heed, braving the onslaught of muttered profanities and the scuffing of feet in stride. He feels rather like a mother duckling, leading all her shitty litter into the world of scary monsters and nightmares. However, dealing with anyone younger than 20 would be someone else’s job, Kuroo thanks the lord for it every day, because he’s patient, and then there’s saintly. There’s only one person he knows that could be capable of such righteousness in the face of the inscrutable evil of children- and ‘lo and behold! Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

A great, hulking van not too different from those kept by kidnappers in movies, rolls up with astounding quiet in front of their odd huddle by the pavement. Kuroo’s the closest, so he gets a face full of a grim, fatherly smile that doesn’t quite reach the edges of a weary mouth, but there’s no mistaking the complicated joy in those eyes at the sight of more younglings. The door slams wide open, banging so hard against its hinges that even Kuroo flinches.

“Dude,” Kuroo groans, and Sawamura Daichi pops his head out from the darkness, grinning.

“It’s the highlight of my day,” comes the smooth reply, “don’t spoil it for me.”

“Take them and leave.” Kuroo huffs, and Daichi laughs like Santa Claus, beckoning for the group of budding troublemakers into the creepy endlessness of the black van.

“Right. C’mon, up and in. There’s enough room for everyone, so don’t step on each other like animals. Yes, I know it’s dark, shut up and bear it.”

All in all, Kuroo thinks that for a group of rebellious youths and broken people, it’s not too terrible of a welcoming ceremony. The kids look rather horrified at what looks like Nietzsche’s abyss in the depths of the vehicle from hell, but they file in one after the other, their bags gripped tightly in whitened fists, and all the while Daichi watches them like a hawk, ready to bark at any misdemeanor.

There isn’t, and the van door closes shut with a much softer click and a twinkle of brown eyes. Kuroo’s almost tempted to wave a handkerchief just for theatrics, but he manages to keep his hands in his pockets and part with a solemn looking nod before heading back the way he’d come.

Now for the truly terrible part.

Considering that they have hundreds of people at their disposal, some who’d find this task a reprieve, even, there’s something especially sadistic of Oikawa to make him take down the banners by hand. The catch was that it wasn’t all of them, just the ones that need replacing- the ones with the most actual shit on them and Kuroo won’t feel clean for days after touching them. He supposes that if anyone’s to blame, it’d be himself for putting an actual demon in charge of delegation. Nobody was safe from Oikawa’s displeasure or whims, not even the leader himself.

Pulling on supermarket-bought latex gloves that does absolutely nothing for his peace of mind, Kuroo starts to peel off the parts where shit’s crusted and has stuck the banner to the metal banisters.

Kuroo believes he deserves a break after such a commotion, but coincidence shakes her head.

He meets her again, despite all odds.

She’s in one piece this time, but the grime has rubbed off on her and Kuroo is forcibly reminded of a sewage rat, scrabbling to reach the surface. The place is empty for the two of them; the last of the chatter faded along with the view of Sawamura’s van, and he can hear the echo of his footsteps several seconds prior still ringing against the large metal tins of water waste.

“Hey,” he says.

It comes out louder than he expects, but too fascinated with her response, the feeling barely registers to him. He also deserves the disbelieving look on her- it really was a rather lame greeting.

Her responding nod is slow but contemplative, and Kuroo vaguely realizes that it’s reminiscent of two predators outlining their boundaries before agreeing to mutual existence. Funny, because the way she walks, she’s too comfortable, and if he had to put an animal to it, it would be a garden mouse, unaware of its short life.

Why does he always have to be the one to speak first? “You’re not mute, are you?” Kuroo snorts, but shrugs at the lack of response. She hasn’t even tensed up, and it shoots a spark up his spine, not in a good way. “Better for you that you aren’t. At least someone might hear you if you scream here.”

“Will you?” Her voice is a tumultuous wave in the dead of winter, and it crashes against Kuroo’s solid steel, leaving him winded. He watches with rapt attention as her lips morph to form further words and he realizes that he doesn’t want to hear one more word in that terrible timbre. “Will you do something to make me scream?”

“That’s what she said,” he grins, but it’s weak and her face so unmoving that it cracks at his core- he is laid bare before a sea of words and none of them he can choose. A small smile creeps its way onto her impassive cheeks and it is a decision between beauty and calamity in the first intake of breath.

Kuroo hates himself in that moment for being so fucking melodramatic.

“You picked up a group of kids here earlier, right?” She’s asking him and he feels stupid for feeling as if she lorded something over him, even for a few moments. She couldn’t know anything. He’d barely seen her around.

“That depends on who’s asking,” he answers, a hand sliding back into his pocket.

She shrugs, and it seems oddly casual for someone who looks so stern, who stands so painfully straight. Her figure droops down to something more human as she moves along to the remains of the kid’s miniature bonfire earlier and traces unintelligible patterns with the ashy remains. “I know someone in that rag-tag band.” Her head rises and he’s stuck; she might as well have wrapped him in chains and he wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference. “I’ve heard of your group.”

Kuroo gives the banner in his hands a little wiggle. Her smile grows.

“Tell me about it, please.”

“We have a website, you know,” he raises an eyebrow. “FAQ page and all.”

She laughs! Kuroo never wants to live through another one of those, and his jaw unclenches like a wounded animal when it stops. “There’s no reception here,” she comments.

“There isn’t,” he agrees.

Another sound agrees too, a violent holler not too far off that fills the air with purpose and even though Kuroo’s not too imaginative of a guy, he can see the police dogs ripping into his flesh right next to the sewage treatment. He shoots her a sharp glance, and although it takes her a few more seconds to realize than he does, her nod is serious and urgent. Although they’re two people with their own purposes, it won’t make the slightest difference to the cops. Handcuffs don’t just phase through your skin because you don’t think you’ve done anything wrong.

“There’s no reception,” Kuroo grits through his teeth and moves to weave his way through the maze of shit water. He can hear her footsteps right behind him, and he can’t be fucked to suppress the spike of irritation at that. He can feel the wind against his palm as he reaches behind for her arm and misses. Twice.

“I’m not going to fucking break you,” he snaps, and he reaches for her again. When he finally feels her wrist against his fingers, he pulls, hard, and tugs her beside him; their steps match each other in a twisted pattern. “Run behind people and you’re going to get hit one day.”

“That must come from a lifetime of looking over your shoulder.” She sounds utterly flippant, and he considers tripping her over and leaving.

“Says the one who beats thugs up in alleys in her spare time- seriously, what the fuck’s up with that? I can tell you don’t do it for fun.”

“I’m used to looking after my younger brother, he gets into all sorts of trouble.”

Kuroo notices that although he’s doing perfectly fine vaulting over railings and hurtling down unknown paths like a man on fire, she barely has a hitch to her breath as she speaks too.

“That must be some ‘looking after’,” he says, “from what it looked like, you were more of a guard dog than a sis.”

She shrugs- they’re at full sprint and she’s fucking shrugging- and Kuroo holds back a spiteful ‘are you for real?’ between terse lips. What the hell is she doing, floating? And he’s definitely not looking at her chest to see her rate of breathing. Not at all. “He gets pissed off when I show up around him. So I do what I can.”

“You’re damn insane,” he laughs, remembering how each time he’d come by her, there had never been fewer than three other fully grown men around. “You should just lock your brother up if he can’t keep his big boy pants on.”

“Funny,” she grins, “that’s what I tell him, but it doesn’t seem to sit well.”

He’s seen kids like her little brother all over town, they’re a dime a dozen with a special buy one get one free edition. It’s not really their fault when the whole city’s lost its mind, who were the lost young things supposed to look up to? If anything they’re like rodents, attracted by large, flashing lights and shiny things, and boom, you get several dead kids each night on the streets. Kuroo’s had his fair share of delinquents. Her, however- he turns his head just a fraction to catch her out of the corner of his eye- she’s as freakish as she is a mystery, but it soothes him to find that she’s human enough to stumble over a stray pipe as she runs.

The barking and the shouting seems to be fading with each strain of his muscles, and for once, he’s grateful for the pure amount of crap the city generates that warrants such a forest of pipes and containers. It’s an eyesore that’s out of the way of the main city system, and its isolation helps the smell diffuse into the suffering trees around it. Kuroo taps furiously at his phone, refreshing his message every three seconds until even just a single bar of connection pops up, and by the time it does, they’re at the edge of the system and he throws a hunted look behind him before shoving his phone back into his pocket.

He props himself up with his palms against his knees to grab more than a mouthful of oxygen and she’s pressing a hand firmly against her ribs to make sure they’re still rising at a normal speed.

“Got a ride home?” He asks before he can stop himself, and his face pinches when she glances at him with growing amusement.

“I’ll be alright, thank you,” she grins again, and this time Kuroo catches it in full underneath the caustic orange of lamplight. It’s better on his nerves than her laugh, at least, but it settles something uncomfortable underneath his skin regardless.

He fingers his phone awkwardly in his pants and pulls it out abruptly when he realizes how odd it must look. A blush doesn’t quite make it to his face, but undoubtedly there’s a frustrated pinch to his brows that he hasn’t felt since high school. “You can uh, go back, or whatever. We should be good for now.”

She mimics his usual stance, cool, confident and all to masculine and cocks her head to one side. Kuroo feels like he’s underneath a surgery light, scrutinized and picked apart into organs, all until she smiles. That one’s all her.

“I’ll wait for your ride to show,” she inclines her head towards his phone with odd grace and an even odder twitch to her lips, “it’s dangerous out here alone at night.”

“Right, fuck you.”

She laughs, and Kuroo shivers again. He’s going to hear that in his dreams at night with how rippling and bottomless it sounds, and it doesn’t stop even when Sawamura’s van shows up again and shocks him out of his socks with that infernal slam of the door.

There’s not a word exchanged between the two grown men except for a very blank look, and a very accusing one. Kuroo listens for Sawamura sliding back into the driver’s seat, but hesitates for a second too long before closing the door behind him. It is, however, long enough to catch the last of her words before they both take off in opposite directions.

“I’ll see you at school, Kuroo.”

The ride back to headquarters is silent, and if Sawamura notices the bitter expression on Kuroo’s face, he doesn’t ask. And Kuroo doesn’t offer.

#kuroo tetsurou #sawamura daichi #female original character #sfw #ringleaders #anarchist au #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #i writes the haikyuu #project fic

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wellimhavinga3outof10day · 7 years

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Lost Lullabies - Chapter Three

Description: Mickey Milkovich, former child star turned action movie star, runs into his old co-star, Ian Gallagher, out on the street in the middle of a winter night. When Mickey takes him in, he doesn’t realize that Ian has the power to completely turn his new life upside down.

Chapters: 1 2 3

Read on AO3

“So you find fucked up friend and you ask him to stay, yes?” Svetlana said.

She sipped on her coffee and did a fantastic job of keeping her eyes on Mickey. Mickey had never managed to ignore the paparazzi like she did. He needed to watch them out of the corner of his eye, to know where they were, to keep them in sight in case anything happened. Fine. He was jumpy. He knew that, but he thought maybe she’d be jumpy too. If it weren’t for the fact that one of her clients was a casting director, she’d still be a whore.

“And you is worried?” she prompted.

Mickey nodded. He took too big of a sip of his coffee, but swallowed the burning liquid like a pro. “He wasn’t like this as a kid. And, yeah, I know people fucking change but... part of me had hoped all the rumours weren’t true. That he’d disappeared because he got clean, not because he’d ended up in a gutter somewhere.”

“But no gutter. He is alive, no?”

“Alive, just...” Mickey shook his head. “I don’t know. Can we not talk about this right now? I don’t want them to know.”

“You brought it up.” She sipped her coffee and forced a smile. “How much longer?”

Mickey checked his phone – 9:13. Their “impromptu” coffee run had been planned for nine to nine-thirty and they couldn’t look like they wanted to leave each other, even if only ten minutes together had been torturous. True, those ten minutes had been spent in line, but if anything that had made it better. It meant the paparazzi was further away, they didn’t have to whisper their conversations, and the people around them were too scared to get up in their space. Well, with the exception of one girl with a selfie stick.

“Seventeen minutes.” Mickey tucked his phone away and took Svetlana’s hand. He kissed her knuckles, forced a smile. “How are you not freezing?”

She shrugged. “I run hot.” She rubbed her hands on his cheeks to warm them. Even though she wore a fur coat and not much else in the way of outerwear, she was much warmer than Mickey who was bundled in a coat, a sweater, heavy-duty gloves, and a knit hat. A knit hat that may or may not have been Ian’s. He couldn’t remember what colour his own hat was or what colour Ian’s hat was. If he was wearing Ian’s hat, was there any way that the paparazzi would be able to tell? Would wonder where he’d gotten the hat, whose it was, what he was doing with it when he had supposedly spent the night at Svet’s?

Mickey forced himself to calm down as they kept walking. They kept the conversation to small talk – the weather, likes and dislikes, schedules, stage-whispered compliments – and tried to look like they weren’t checking the time every five minutes.

It wasn’t that Mickey didn’t like Svetlana; it was more that she didn’t like him. She thought he was a liar and cheat and, well, he couldn’t really correct her. They’d worked together on a movie a little over a year ago and, for publicity, they’d been asked to make a show of going out together. Even further than that, they’d been asked not to put down any rumours they were dating. And once the world thought it was happening, both their agents thought that they might as well go along with it.

“You should kick him out.”

“Hmm?”

“Orange boy.” Svetlana sucked on her finger and then wiped crumbs from Mickey’s lower lip. “He seems like bad news.”

Mickey said nothing, checked his phone again. 9:28. Svetlana was right, of course. It was rare that she wasn’t right, that he didn’t immediately take her advice on anything and everything. She might be a pain in his ass, but she had become his new Mandy over the last year, and he took her seriously when she said he had made a bad choice. He’d ducked out of projects because of it. He’d fired assistants. He’d changed agents. But he couldn’t just put Ian back on the street.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said. “But street is good for boy. Builds character.”

“Not everyone can survive polar temperatures.” Mickey stopped in front of his car and looked up at her. He wished she’d stop wearing ridiculous heels so she wouldn’t absolutely tower over him in every picture, but he’d yet to convince either of their agents that it was a problem for his image. So the heels stayed. He reached up to kiss her, just a quick peck, and then she wiped the lipstick off his skin. She felt sticky and lukewarm, like snot. “Call me later?” he said.

“Five?”

“Later. I’m gonna try and swing by his sister’s house, see if I can’t sort things out.”

“Stay out of it.”

“I’m already in it.” Mickey slipped into the backseat of the car before she could say another word. The driver pulled into traffic as Mickey stared at his phone. He considered calling Ian – he didn’t have his cell number, but Ian might answer the home phone – but decided against it. If Ian was going to be crashing on his couch for a few days, he needed to be able to trust him. Even if he didn’t trust the guy as far as he could throw him.

The day went by tediously slowly. After the meet-up with Svet, he had a costume fitting downtown, followed by three auditions, and an hour taping a commercial on a soundstage that looked like it was paid for by Girl Guide cookies. He ate in the car, scarfed down McDonalds like it might be the last time he ever tasted it, even if he cheated on his diet constantly. Then he went to argue with his publicist about a photo shoot she wanted him to do – Christmas underwear model. Fuck no. Another audition and then he was back in the car, ready to head home.

“Hey, can we make a stop first?” Mickey knew it was weird to ask to go back to the Southside – he honestly hadn’t been back since he was sixteen – but the driver said nothing. Mickey guessed he got paid by the hour and the Southside was far enough away to add quite a bit of time onto the bill.

As they drove down, Mickey watched the buildings go from downtown chic, to pleasantly humble, to broken down, to whatever someone called the shit structures that stood in his old neighbourhood. His heart hammered in his chest, but he swallowed it. For all he knew, his dad was dead, his brothers had gotten out, and no one even lived in his house anymore. Not that it mattered. He was there for the Gallaghers, not his own family.

He slipped out of the car, told the driver to wait ten minutes, and walked through the gate. The Gallagher house looked the same as he remembered, if maybe a little worse for wear. The front window was covered with cardboard and the door hung just slightly open, one of the hinges loose. A shingle fell off the roof a foot in front of Mickey. He swore.

If he had to pick the one moment in his life where he knew beforehand that he had made a terrible mistake, this was it. Being back in the Southside, breathing the air there, shivering in its cold, brought flashbacks to Mickey’s mind. Just being there was a massive trigger. All he wanted was to get his hands on a bottle or a joint or whatever else would get him high out of his mind. Forgetting this place had always been the goal, even when he had spent most of his time in hotels near the shooting locations.

Mickey knocked on the door and then stepped inside, certain no one had heard. The Gallagher house had always been a mess – more than a mess, a disaster zone – but stepping inside had used to feel safe. Even if his own home meant trouble, the Gallagher’s meant warmth, family, and a place to sleep that smelled like Ian. Mickey didn’t want to come back and find out that his memories, all of them, had been dashed.

But he was already there. And the house smelled like weed and burning bread. Mickey brought a hand up to his mouth, breathed in fabric freshener, and then called, “Fiona?”

“In here!”

Mickey headed towards the kitchen. She was bent over, head in the oven, cursing under her breath. He waited. When she looked up, she was halfway through a sentence – “don’t even know how to fucking fix” – but she trailed off the minute she saw Mickey. Her face went white as a sheet, like she’d seen a ghost. And maybe he was a ghost to her, a stupid reminder that the Southside didn’t have to swallow people. “Mickey,” she said.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” She forced a smile and hugged him quick. “What brings you around? Ian’s not here, but I’m sure if I told him—”

“No,” Mickey said. He stepped away from her, away from her hospitality, away from the sweetness of her voice. He shouldn’t have come. He should have called. Because being there... he could have simply emptied his pockets and given it all to her – cash, credit cards, whatever else he had. Fiona had taken care of him when no one else had. Fiona was somehow, stupidly, the closest thing he had to a mother. “I’m here because of Ian, actually,” Mickey said.

“What about him?”

“He says he doesn’t live here anymore.”

Fiona shrugged. “Guess he doesn’t then.”

“Would you take him back?”

“He’s welcome here if he pays his share.” Fiona slammed the oven door. “He knows that.”

“Look, I found him on the street last night, completely fucked up.”

“Not surprising.”

Mickey watched Fiona rummage through the cupboards. He had opened his mouth to say something – what, he didn’t know – but closed it promptly. His mind spun looking for something to say. “Aren’t you worried?”

Fiona snorted. “If I wasted my energy worrying about Ian, I wouldn’t do anything else.”

“But... he needs help, Fiona.”

“And when he wants help, I’ll give it to him.” Fiona pulled a frozen dinner from the freezer and shoved it into the microwave. “But right now, like always, he’s out of a job, on a bender, and doesn’t give two flying fucks about getting better. Whatever better means.”

“What the fuck happened to you?”

“To me?” Fiona laughed. “Take a good look at yourself and then ask who’s changed.”

“You used to care about your siblings more than anything.”

“And now they’re all grown up and I have a chance to live my own life. Should I screw that up just because they’re intent on still needing me?”

Mickey shook his head. “He really needs help.”

“Mickey, I’m not arguing with you.” Fiona’s face fell and her preoccupation made way for sadness in her dark eyes. “I’m not saying he should be going on like this. But I’m telling you it’s not my problem anymore. If he wants to come home, he can come home. But I’m not going to push and pull and prod him until he no longer wants to throw his life away. That’s not my job.”

“You did it for Lip.”

“And look how well that went.”

Mickey blinked, but didn’t ask for details. “I can’t just stop my life to fix him.”

“Then don’t. He doesn’t want help, Mickey.”

Part of Mickey wanted to cry. He didn’t understand why Fiona wouldn’t just take her brother back and promise to get him into rehab or something. Unless – “I can lend you the money and get him into a really good place, all right? Anything you need. I’ll help.”

Fiona made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob. Her palms pressed against Mickey’s cheeks. “You’re really sweet, Mickey, but that’s not the problem. The problem is that Ian’s become the new Frank in my life. He shows up wasted, makes his way into the house through the windows, steals all the cash he can find to fuel his drug habit, and creates scams that make my life a living hell. Now, I’d never lock him out of the house like I do with Frank, but I’m beyond helping him at this point. He might be beyond my help at this point.” She kissed Mickey on the forehead. “I know it must be a shock to you, seeing him like this. But it’s been our reality for almost ten years. So I suggest you stay out of it.”

“Right,” Mickey said. “But... he can come home? Here, I mean?”

“Of course. He’s always welcome. He just needs to get a job again.”

Mickey nodded and then stepped backwards. He made his way out of the house, nearly running by the time he got outside. He slammed into the backseat of the car, snapped, “Home” and buried his face in his hands.

Ian the new Frank.

Mickey felt like he might fucking puke.

<<Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four>>

#gallavich #shameless #Ian Gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #mine #chapter three #lost lullabies #3outof10 fanfic

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