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starstruck-shima · 3 years

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐬. (𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢)

“Even gods can’t help but stop to catch a breath.”

Notes: fem reader.

There were many things I wondered about.

After so many years of living, so many eons of asking questions without answers, I simply stood in the middle of a dandelion field, surrounded by crystal flies--Like a fool.

As I gaze upon the starstruck sky, what would lie ahead of me now? I was but a directionless being, with nowhere to go. My kin were gone, separated by walls that spared no mercy, not even to the birds. Now, all that remains of such were merely ruins of old. Its as if I’ve completely lost my purpose--no longer a protector of Mondstadt, no longer worthy of the long lifespan I was blessed with--Just a being of pure element, lost and astray.

It was there when I first felt the wind glaze over me so softly, and it was the first time I met you. At that moment, I felt a moment of rebirth. You were so kind, glazing upon me with such hazy eyes, and I felt so out of place. You, the ever glowing saint, an archon of the new world, and me... a soldier with no master.

I couldn’t even muster up words, for I was ashamed. Ashamed of what you’d think of me. So I did the bare minimum, for a being with heavy debt to Mondstadt itself. I ask for my punishment. “I lower my head to you. Please, set me free.”

His response however, shattered my expectations. With little to no hesitance, his reply flew like the wind. “That is for you to bring upon yourself.”

W-what? My eyes felt like saucers, as my throat ran dry. What did he mean by that? Freedom, retribution, I deserved none of that. The sin I hold upon myself by serving Decarabian is too much for a simply apology. It’s a burden I must carry.

“(Y/n) (L/n),” I rise my head to the call of my name. “--Former soldier of Decarabian’s. But most importantly, a lover of Mondstadt.” His hands outstretched to mine, and for some reason, it was as if I was naturally drawn to him. I knew his name, I knew who this was. Barbatos. It seemed that it wouldn’t take long for me to realize that no matter what form he took, he was still the same inside.

Archon, elemental being, bard. No matter what, Barbatos was Barbatos, and he gave me the ability to see truly for the very first time. That my freedom was in my own hands.

“Then, with the freedom you’ve given me...

Let me vow to protect Mondstadt, for as long as I live.” It was going to be a very, very long time. I knew that. But I shall do this with the freedom I have granted myself. For the good of the four winds, of the nation I loved, and Barbatos, this is the vow I will stand in for as long as the wind howls.

...And that was how I ended up with this total drunkard of a god for the rest of my days.

Should I have begged even more for my execution? Probably. But would Barbatos still spare me? Most likely so.

“Dandelioooooonnn~~” his words were slurred, like he was riding a merry go round of booze. “Why won’t you let me touch you? Hey, come here~~”

“--That is unnecessary,” our friends watched as we bantered, me dodging Venti’s barrage of physical affection, and Venti... still trying no matter what. The traveler, who sat opposite of us, could only stay bewildered at the story, and the stark contrast of its two main heroes today.

“S-so, this is the fierce warrior who was granted the mercy of Lord Barbatos?!” Paimon’s mouth was agape. She stops for a breath, before carrying on. “You m-mean, (Y/n) once KNEELED to Venti?! Not only that, but the Barbatos in that tale feels so different than the Barbatos now!”

“It’s like watching an old married couple.” The traveler adds on to Paimon’s speech, still in disbelief. “So, that was how you met?”

Pushing away Venti’s hands, I try my best to keep a straight face. “Yes. The tales you hear the townsfolk tell to their children are partially true. however. the one Venti and I have told you tonight is how it really went down.” I chuckle at the thought. Who knew our first meeting had such an impact? “Though I’m glad it’s been teaching the kids a good life lesson or two.”

As my eyes trail back to Venti, I was hit with a softness, the same softness I felt after my adrenaline rushes were over, and when I knew everything was safe. I was pretty sure the traveler noticed my fondness too, but it’s alright. It’ll be our little secret. “Say, traveler. Let me let you in on a hymn of the bards of Mondstadt.”

“No matter how far the wind blows, everything stays,” I shift a bit at Venti’s weight, finally letting him rest on my shoulder. He reeked--though that was to be expected. “Right where you left it. Everything stays, but it still changes.”

I hope the traveler knew what I was talking about. In any case, the feel of Venti’s hand in mine, and the way he looked at me with such gentle eyes even whilst intoxicated proved such phrases to be true. We’ve gone through change, we’ve become different people. Once a warrior, once a rebel, now simple folk of Mondstadt, learning how to love like the people do. Once on different sides, fighting for the same freedom, and then--as the same wind blows, our relationship with each other slowly differed.

“So~” Paimon started to speak again, this time in a mischievous tone. “How did you two fall in love?”

Unexpectedly, I threw out a hoarse chuckle. Love. Such an unexpected experience that had befallen me. The truth was, I never expected it--at least not during my days of serving Decarabian. But as the times past, and when nations grew, I began to realize quite the consensus. The Mondstadt I protect now is still the same, yet things are different now. I didn’t need to devote myself to endless servitude, to slice monsters in half--because there was barely the need for it nowadays. Mondstadt’s people are capable of protecting themselves, and perhaps that was what Venti wanted me to believe.

“And then, perhaps that was when he grabbed the opportunity and freedom to woo me.”

“Ho ho, and it worked!” I roll my eyes at Venti’s sudden jab. Geez, what a childish god. “She used to be so serious. “I will protect Mondstadt!” “I will devote my life to it!” “No threat will ever pass you, Barbatos!” And then she’d run off to the wind, flipping her hair and acting all cool.”

“--But give her a flower and a song and she’s all red like an apple! Ahahahaha!” I wince at the embarrassment, quickly shutting his mouth. The traveler and paimon seem amused at the sudden revelation, and this was when I realized that it was probably best to do some damage control before my dear lover would be sleeping on the couch tonight.

Bidding the two and the bartender at Angel’s Share a farewell, I shoulder Venti, making sure to guide him deftly through the streets of Mondstadt. As we pave through the mostly empty surroundings, I start to feel warm--almost proud of the new Mond of today. How long as it been since the people were granted freedom? Since I had been able to stop and see the fruits of the labors its people who fought for it grow? It’s a nostalgic feeling, really.

“Heya, (Y/n).” It seemed that Venti noticed my silent musings. I hum a response, with no expectations whatsoever. If it was a question about how far we were from home, surely that--

“Marry me.”

I nearly ran into the pavement there and then. Marriage? To Barbatos? To Venti? To the man I knew as my lover? Wait, of course the person you’d get married to is most likely your lover. Then, why am I still so flustered? Why is it that with this man, everything felt so different and new? How is it that he could make such a mess of me, yet make me whole?

“Hey, why are you so quiet?” He pouts, adorably I might add. I still stumble to catch my breath. To be honest, I wouldn’t mind... “We’ve been together for so long, we’re pretty much just giving rings to each other. Come on~”

“Geh... When you put it that way... can’t you take this seriously?”

I felt a sudden drop--a different feeling place itself on him, and all of a sudden, he vocalizes many, many words. “I have! I’ve consulted the church, I’ve looked at all kinds of rings and other things you might prefer for proposals, and I’ve been thinking about it even in eons of slumber! I want us to be happy, (y/n), but most importantly, I want you to be happy, so regardless of your acceptance, it’s fine if we stay by each other’s sides, right?”

My breath hitched. Tears were threatening to prickle my eyes. Of course he’d be so thoughtful, yet so playful too... don’t tell me. “I don’t want you to propose to me while you’re drunk, Barbatos... but you’re actually sober, aren’t you?”

“Ehe.” He chuckles, before getting on one knee, a small crystal core presented on the palms of his hands. “So, is that a yes?”

I couldn’t contain my smile. No matter how red my face was. A chorus of giggles rang through the night sky, and as Venti hovered over to my head to place the crystal core on my hair, I accepted his proposal.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact scenarios #venti #genshin venti #venti x reader #genshin impact venti

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kanohivolitakk · 3 years

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Have you done Krekka for the ask game? I know you're a huge Nidhiki fan, curious if you have any thoughts on his partner?

I haven't gotten Krekka yet actually. So far I only done Toa Ignika and Axonn for the Bionicle ask game (which Im still accepting). That being said great choice. Krekka isn't necessarily a big favorite of mine (partially because I'm not that fond of the "dumb brute" archetype barring a few exceptions), but I have to admit I do have a soft spot for the big guy. Krekka is a relatively simple character when it comes to characterization/backstory/role in the story (especially when compared to Nidhiki), but that doesn't mean I don't have any "deeper" thoughts regarding him or that there isnt stuff worth discussing.

Anyways some thoughts/headcanons/general musings:

This is a weird thing to start with but... Krekka is kinda adorable for me. I think its kinda this ...overgrown puppy (bulldog??) vibe due to his loyalty and dumbness. I admit BOADH is a big reason for me feeling this way since it gave him a few moments that made me go "AWWW he's so cute". Just..love his loyalty so much.

His undying loyalty makes him stand out for me across the other dark hunters. While many dark hunters we ha e are opportunistic and schemy, Krekka is just...very loyal. Maybe too much so. But I love that he is loyal. Feels refreshing tbh.

And now I cant help but feel that TSO is just "guys stupid but at least he wont double cross me and is easy to keep in check" when it comes to him.

Not to go woobifying villains but I genuinely dont think the guys that bad. Hes just really stupid, overly loyal and doing his job. Its kinda like w Lariska being a decent person despite being a knife happy murder girl although to a much lesser extent since guys a literalminded fool and also just smashy boy.

I do like his backstory of being a former guard who lost his job and started wreck havoc until one day a dark hunter found and hired him. It isnt anything too complex but it works well for his character and explains why he is so loyal to Dark Hunters. It also helps bringing a bit more light to his homeland and I love when we get more info of places through character backstories, makes the world feel more real that way.

Also can Gorast please stop hurting charaxters I like. This is the reason shes my least favorite character in the 2001-2008 storyline that isnt just a glorified extra or a plot device.

When it comes to Krekka, one scene I always think of when I think of him is in BOADH where he temporarily forgot to fly and Nidhiki was just "WAIT A MOMENT LARISKA TOLD ME YOU CAN FLY????" and Krekka just goes "whoops I forgot". That was adorable honestly. You dumb idiot, forgot you could fly.

Also, I know he's kinda "the idiot character", and while I am NOT saying he isn't, I do think its worth pointing out that he's basically literal minded. In BOADH (again) when Nidhiki tried to do that training scenario Krekka basically was like "wait I’m here, there’s nothing there why should I move there". This is

Another thing I really like about Krekka is that how, despite being an absolute idiot and tool, he still is willing to sometimes not take Nidhikis bullshit, see preventing him from getting the Zamor launchers (geez BOADH did a lot for this guys characterization lmao)

I sometimes call him truck boy because his name is one letter off my languages word for truck.

Also unless canon/word of Greg says otherwise I don't think every member of his species is as stupid as him. Like possibly on similar level but still.

It is made pretty clear that Nidhiki couldn't stand Krekka at all, but I do genuinely wonder how Krekka feels about Nidhiki. Based on the little we have I'd say he liked him to some extent or at the very least, didn't hate him to the same degree. I also have to wonder how aware he was about Nidhikis haterd towards him.

I also love the idea that when Nidhiki was mutated, Krekka just...wasnt afraid of him at slightest, no fear in this dumb boy. (I also like the idea he didnt recognize him at first and Nidhiki just, had to explain to his thick skull who he was. It took a while but eventually he got it.)

On a related note, I find it interesting how the LOMN website describes him working with Nidhiki because guy knows where to get the good jobs or something rather than being his goverment (read TSO) assigned partner The way the twos relationship were described makes it feel that by this point the staff hadnt figured out what they wanted to do with Dark Hunters , or if it even was an organization or just these two tools.

Its really interesting for me how Krekkas characterization not only varies between the books/comics (where hes more intimidating and him being a simpleton isnt as pronounced) and the movie (where hes more of a dumbass) but also how his characterization evolved. Like, his loyalty wasn't that pronounced trait but now I feel its just as important part of him as him being a dumbass (which is to say, very interesting)

I remember how the aftoermentoined Metru Nui movie website described that Krekka hated toa to the point wouldve hunted them for free if Nidhiki didnt make sure the two would get paid. I feel this is somewhat early installment weirdness as it isnt mentioned anywhere else but at the same time Krekka being willing to fight without payment sounds 1000% in character if you ask me

Something I have been confused over: when exactly was Krekka recruited to the dark hunters??? The timeline is very vague about this and I wish we knew.

It's been AGES since I watched my home countrys dub of LOMN but what I recall I really liked Krekka's voice in that dub. He sounded more badass and I loved it, the VA had a pretty unique sound. Sadly dont think there is any clips of the LOMN dub, which is a shame. UPDATE: I rewatched the dub and I love the voice itself but felt the voice direction made him sound kinda inconsistent

This is more a "Nidhiki and Krekka related thought" rather than just Krekka related but one thing I really like about Krekka and Nidhiki is that how they are like a more serious and competent take of "those two evil henchmen with contrasting personalities" trope. Often these types of villains are rather goofy, but these two could be rather dangerous as well and I really like that. I also like their dynamic of just doing Nidhiki being done with Krekkas bullshit. One of the main reasons I wish LOMN was a miniseries rather than a movie is because I really wanted more screentime with the two.

On a related note can I JUST SAY I LOVE the way the two compliment/pararell each other. From design (Krekka being bulky mostly blue colored, Nidhiki being slender and monstrous, mostly green colored) to personality (Krekka being foolish and simpleminded but loyal Nidhiki being cunning and ambitious but treacherous) to powersets (Krekka being strong physical attacker, Nidhiki being weaker(??) but faster and more special attacker).Heck, even their backstories have similarities as they both lost their orginal purpose in one way or another and didnt have anywhere to go but Dark Hunters (the main difference being that Nidhiki inflicted his fate upon himself by betraying the toa while Krekka didnt really do anything iirc)

Now for something crossovery, Krekkas and Nidhikis dynamic reminds me a lot of Kronk and Yzma from Emperors New Groove. Yes I have drawn a parody of the "pull the lever kronk" meme, yes I intend to make more screencap redraws. They also remind me a lot of Mummymon and Archenemon from Digimon 02, partially due to the dynamic (smug spider that tries to be cunning and intimidating but gets outclassed by most other villains in that + loyal blue dumb boy) partially due to their ultimate fate being rather similar.

I don't know how familiar you are with the franchise, but Krekka reminds me a fair bit of Gamel, one of the four villain generals in Kamen Rider OOOs, mainly because "the dumb brute major villain that's kinda cuteish and loyal a f while everyone else is an asshole".

I remember reading a p good oneshot fic that was just him accidentally killing a civilian when all he wanted was a hug and...honestly that is p much what I imagine him being like. Guy may be strong, reckless and a fool but like I said I dont think hes all that bad and just a puppy. An overgrown, moronic puppy but a puppy nontheless

For AUs, I remember I have thought once of "What if Krekka survived but Nidhiki died" and just ...guy wouldve been very lost and confused and unsure what to do tbh. He would most likely returned to Dark Hunters but Mata Nui knows how say TSO wouldve felt about that. Its not too complex au yet but I am thinking of developing it further one day.

Thank you for asking.

Sorry this took longer than expected. I had too many thoughts and half of them were deleted so. I hope its worth the wait tho. I do have a lot of Krekka thoughts and tbh wasnt sure if I was even able to get them all here.

(I am still doing the ask game so if anyone wants to send me a bonkle I will try to give thoughts, meta and headcanons on them)

#ask game #bionicle #Krekka

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taocastleprincess · 3 years

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shaman king (2021) ep 1

i said i was going to type smth up last night but teaching is literally so exhausting sooo i'm here now!! i have watched the episode like a million times since Thursday LMAOOOO i think i mostly have the dialogue memorized, that's how much i've watched it. i'm just so happy though, i've been a lifelong fan of SK, i was obsessed w it in my teens (still am but i was on a DIFF LEVEL in HS), and i'm just SO HAPPY we finally got a reboot!!! Shaman King deserves a canon adaption, so glad that Takei got it :)

this post got super long rambly so my thoughts/glows/concerns are under the cut!

gonna start w the GLOWS

-- honestly, i am in LOVE w the new OST!!! i have had it on repeat since it was released in Japan!! Megumi is a godsend and i feel like both the OST and the ED kept the same vibes as the og adaption OSTs and EDs. can't really explain why that is but the melodies and the feelings you get from the new OST are very authentic to the SK-verse.

-- the animation is absolutely beautiful and i could hardly focus on anything else the first 2 times i watched it. i was really scared about how the animation was going to look bc so many weird rumors about the animation team were circulating on twitter but it is nearly perfect. they stayed true to Takei's style and the background scenery is out of this world. i also think all of the characters look brighter and more... like them? like, i love the og SK but even as a kid i felt like the animation did not really capture any of the characters (especially Yoh, Ren, and Joco) in their true essence. Like, it was just very dull and didn't accentuate any of their key features. The reboot is beautiful and I love the way certain characters' eyes are drawn. I thought that the look of Ryu's crew was a great example of the animators highlighting and emphasizing defining features of certain characters. They aren't major characters at all but we know they are important to Ryu (and his story) so their designs are given their rightful due.

-- i know that a few people didn't appreciate the beginning scene of the episode for a myriad of different reasons and i find them all totally valid and understandable, tbh. however, i think the opening scene was really great. i had a few problems w it (i do think the 'chosen one' set-up for Yoh was heavy-handed and weird bc i don't think the source material really wants us to believe that Yoh is the stereotypical 'chosen one' and i think it pushes back on that trope quite a bit but i'm open to hearing diff opinions on that) but overall, i think it gives a very cool and mysterious set-up for the anime. i don't think it does much to spoil the eventual ~Hao is Yoh's twin!!~ reveal because, to me, personally, it wasn't that big of a reveal/plot twist. what i WILL say is that the opening scene was very diluted in comparison to the manga vers and that was a bit disappointing but i think they might revisit the scene/make it more dramatic later on in the series when there is more context around the events of that night so that may just be a little tease, you know?

-- this should not be shocking to read from an account that is named 'taocastleprincess' but... AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH THE ENDING SCENE WITH REN AND BASON WAS SOOOOO PERFECT AND I DIDN'T EXPECT IT!!!! ON MY FIRST WATCH I RAN IT BACK LIKE 300x!!!! THEY BOTH LOOK AMAZINGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!

moving on from glows and to CONCERNS, i spy a lot of possible issues w pacing, character development, and authenticity. the series is currently only slated for 52 episodes, a whole 12-eps shorter than the OG adaptation, and the entirety of the series is supposedly being adapted so... 52 eps for 300 chapters? to me, that seems extremely rushed even with best-case scenarios. i have read opposing views on twitter, people think that 52 eps is just enough if they cut 'filler' and 'stick to the most important arcs.' i don't think i can agree with any part of that argument. i really think that it's a REACH to say that Shaman King has filler chapters or filler arcs. there is a purpose for each and every chapter/arc in the series. plot development, character development, foreshadowing, etc. those all hold distinct and important purposes and the love, thought, and time put into the SK manga is exactly why people love it. 'filler' does not have a true narrative purpose, it only serves to lengthen the story, so to say that there are scenes/chapters/arcs that can be glossed or skipped over you would have to make the argument that they have no narrative purpose or bearing on the story. i personally think it would be extremely difficult (near impossible) to make that argument for anything within the og 300chap work but, again, i'm open to seeing if anyone can change my mind.

the first episode of SK flew through and glossed over a lot of important scenes for character study/development. by the end of the first episode, you don't really understand or relate to Morty as one might have done after the first episode of ogSK. and although Yoh is supposed to remain mysterious/confusing/weird for the first couple of chapters/eps, at the end of ep1 there is no GRAND interest that has been developed about him. The first episode operated at a breakneck speed and to its detriment. the characters so far are extremely flat regarding everything beyond character design. the viewer is hardly invested in the partnership between Yoh and Amidamaru because there is (little to) no build-up of their partnership and both of their characters are... not real to us yet. even the scenes regarding Amidamaru's past and his friendship with Mosuke doesn't affect or interest the viewer at all because it is referenced, addressed, problematized, solved, and wrapped up all within 3.5 mins.... huh?

what REALLY destroys me, though, is that the anime seems to be foreshadowing that Manta's character will be playing a backseat role.... the first couple of adventures are from Manta's perspective. he asks the questions that we have, situates us in this very weird world and helps to world-build without it being obvious or heavyhanded, and we start to understand the nuances of his character. none of that was present in 2021 ep1. it kinda felt like Manta was a plot device instead of a character. granted, like i said, none of the characters feel real yet but Manta getting this sort of treatment so early on is dismaying. i really do feel like Manta and Yoh's (developing) friendship and trust in each other is the heart of the first quarter of the series (and is continuously referenced and exalted throughout). rushing through (or, really, just straight up cutting out) the first couple of subplots/mini-adventures that they have together feel really weird and detrimental to the overall tone and purpose of the series. those early adventures cement so much and really lay the groundwork for the rest of the story. it's disappointing that they didn't get their due.

this isn't a very organized review/breakdown, i'm just typing as i think, but to sum up what i am REALLY worried about is this: if the series continues at this extremely crazy pace, i'm a bit worried that the characters will never feel fully developed. not only that, but SK has a lot of heart-wrenching scenes and also a lot of scenes that are beautifully filled with hope and care. i just don't see how those scenes are gonna hit quite as hard or even as they SHOULD if the pace doesn't slow down and let us really sit with these characters and their feelings and motivations.

i mean, i know that this is only the 1st episode of a 52ep series but a lot of things don't look too promising... anyway, these are my initial thoughts/concerns/feelings. i'm way too busy to actually sit down and plan out all of my millions of thoughts but hopefully this was good enough!

#shaman king #episode review #yoh asakura #manta oyamada #personalshy #shy's sk thoughts

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dear-yandere · 3 years

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—ask collection!

a collection of mostly very old chats and sweet asks that i never got around to answering! thanks for the patience and love!!

beware, fairly long post... woops....

chat asks.

darling: Eu-jin is best boy. Change my mind.

vanya: i am physically incapable of fulfilling that request, how dare you do that to me... i’m biased since he’s my own oc, but i would die for my (very best) boy eu-jin... who can resist such a gentle yandere that loves you so whole-heartedly?

that reminds me! he’s actually based off of kuroyuki and gekkamaru from the otome nightshade, so if you want similar characters by any chance, do check them and the game out ♡

darling: I was watching the dub for Part 5 of JoJo's Bizarre adventure yesterday...Mista called himself Daddy and I like- sdfghjfgsdhnhnmj!! My heart can't take this--

vanya: WAIT HE DID???? i’m not even big on daddy kink and reading that made me go 😳 this is vital information to know... what episode was this??? for research purposes, of course. gotta perfect my yan! mista, after all~...

darling: for yandere songs, have you heard of the major to minor covers by chase holfelder :O? the way he delivers the lyrics in some songs (betty, all i want for christmas), added with the key changes to minor, is really fantastic, and gives a stalker-ish vibe imo! and he's a really good singer in general

vanya: i have!! a good chunk of them are actually on my personal yandere playlist, so i end up hearing them frequently when i’m writing!! i haven’t been keeping up with his uploads recently, so ‘betty’ is completely new to me and just, wow???????????? this man is an absolute god send for us “romantic” horror fans... ♡

this ask gave me such a lovely idea, though, darling: assigning yandere types/mbti based off each of chase’s minor key covers. i think i’ll do that just for you. ♡

darling @blossomiich: I reread some of your old character interaction asks and saw the one with Jotaro hugging his Darling after a panic attack and the elephant seal plush reminded me of the iconic C H O N K Y ringed seal plushie that was kinda trending and I can totally imagine Jotaro having one of those >w< that's so adorable!

vanya: i honestly don’t remember that interaction, but then again i don’t remember most things hmghng so i looked it up and

j...just imagine star plat hogging it and not letting joot cuddle with it 🥺 the duality of man...thank you for this cute image...

darling: Umm, sorry for asking this. I'm just curious because of your bio language in your header. Are you Chinese too, perhaps?

vanya: no worries!! i’m mixed guyanese (indian, chinese, & possibly black and/or portuguese), but my family only celebrates (or rather, acknowledges?) our indian descent, since the majority of our family is predominantly east indian.

my header is actually a quote from a danmei novel (and one of my all-time favorite fandoms), tiān guān cì fú (heaven’s official blessing)!

darling genki stan anon: Omg you're writing for free now, i didn't expect that one lol. It's a cute show innit? Not a nagi stan but I feel like nagisa has that kinda unsnapped personality that would make him peak delusional yandere material lolol like oikawa but less threatening and without his head being up his own ass 😂. Hope you're doing well!! -gsa

Gdjsjs im such a fool, i think my last ask said something about not thinking you'd write for free when i literally just pointed out kisumi on your sideblog LMAO my bad 😅 😂 also ill hold back on the gen chan requests because ive already asked so many in the past! Thank you though 🥺. Also feel free not to post this, it can just dip into my onesided chats with my lil flower 💐 so long as you receive them im fine 😌 -genki stan anon

vanya: nagisa isn’t my favorite (kisumi is), but gods if he wouldn’t make a great yandere. honestly, out of the iwatobi boys, nagi is probably the most unhinged. i wouldn’t peg him as delusional, at least not at first; i think he’s very lucid and knows exactly what he wants and how to manipulate people in order to get it!!! kisumi is fairly similar now that i think about it... i might... have a type...

please feel free to send in gen-chan requests whenever you want!!!! i’m kinda super asocial, so it’ll take me a while to answer, but i love getting asks from you since you’re so sweet and excitable!!! your little flower reads and cherishes them all!! 🥺

also darling genki stan anon: Sorry for spamming you with asks hdjkdks, u dont even need to reply im just kinda brain empty venting here whether you recieve them or not 😂 i just needed to confess that while yes i am #1 gen simp, and he is undoubtedly my fave oc of yours but that Ilya tentacle smut had me very much so highkey kinda 👀, had to re read the genki oral style drabble to bring my head back. He dont even need to worry about luca bc that man a thot. I think therin is a thot too but like lowkey, a classy thót -gsa

vanya: omg i’ve kept this one for forever mnmghngh i might’ve even answered at some other point, now that i think about it... but i just 🥺 gosh i hope i find my muse soon, because i really wanna write you a genki fic 🥺 hhhh

the ilya tentacle smut was so in character for that boy... i have no clue how to write monsters, much less tentacles, but i’d honestly do anything for him 🙏 kinky russian boy...

therin is definitely a classy thot, the kind that only bangs the finest concubines then turns around and slut shames you for banging the very same prostitutes gbfmngnfg rules don’t apply to him, in his kingdom...wish that were me tbh ✊😔

sweet asks.

darling one: i've read almost all of your dazai and chuuya fics and i love them so much!! your formatting is also super aesthetic just a question, i saw on your kofi that you also draw so i was wondering if you drew all the header arts?? bc they're all super pretty :) have a great day!

darling two: Just wanted to say love the writing and the way your format your posts is so aesthetically pleasing. One day I hope my posts looks half as good as yours because I legit can't get over how pretty and organized it looks.

vanya: omg thank you so much!!!! one of my bffs, yue, is to thank for the formatting and aesthetic choices, really! if you wanna see more of her aesthetic formats and posts, she actually runs a few blogs! you may know her as @milkscafe, formally @milkaaton! i adore her and her aes choices so much 🥺

as for the headers, i don’t draw 99.98% of them! i have drawn a couple, but they’re so few and far in between since i almost never finish my art wips haha... my older posts are lacking proper credits because i’m an absolute idiot, but i’m slowly working my way backwards to credit them all where possible! they’re all indeed super pretty!!!

have a great day yourself, my love!!

darling: THEY’RE NOT BAD CONTENT, I LOVE THEM ALL

vanya: this was in response to a now-deleted lil blurb but i kept it in my inbox because i wanted to say i love u very much and seeing this ask each time i open my inbox makes my heart skip a beat ♡

darling: Listen I love your writing, you inspired me to start it myself! I've always loved to write, and read of course but your style and concepts just stick with me. If you where to write something besides Yandere content/fandom content and started your own series? I would read the shit, out of it. I'm always nervous to interact with my favorite writers because you know, I'm afraid of the impression I'd leave but I just wanted to say this anyway! 💞💞💞🔫😳

vanya: wowowow fgfnmgnfmngfg that’s such a high compliment my brain just gmfnbgmnf go boom fogjfngnfg and thank you for the interaction, us writers truly appreciate it no matter how awkward or nervous you think you may be / come off!!!

darling one: As a writer, your post struck a nerve with me. I don’t send feedback to writers I like nearly as much as I should (and certainly not as much as I’d like in return as a writer). So, as such, I’m going to start doing that when I can, starting with you.

You are an incredible writer. You were one of the first yandere writing blogs I found and you’re still one I check in on regularly to see what you have been working on. You can portray a sense of suspense and intrigue in a natural way that many other writers - published ones included - struggle with. You delve into the darkness without it feeling forced, and you have an amazing grasp on the psyches of the characters you write for (which is a quality I adore in writing and strive toward myself).

I’m not great at ending these things so I guess.. you keep doing you? Because the you is great and I appreciate it.

darling two: hey. i'm here to tell you that from the bottom of my heart i love you and your writings. i really admire your writing skills. you inspire me. one of your posts once saved me from a nervous breakdown. thank you for everything you do. you're a wonderful person. good luck!

darling three: I wanted to tell you that thank you for writing such wonderful beautiful writings and that you take time to edit and write I hope you are taking care of yourself 💖❤

darling four: Thanks. I was having a hard time and deleted all my apps, but as soon as i opened my phone my first instinct was to look at your blog and i got my motivation back. Thanks (:

darling five: Hi ! I just wanted to say I really enjoy the stories you write and how they are detailed so well ! Stay safe and I hope you have a good day/night ! ლ(╹◡╹ლ)

vanya: ahhhh, these are very old asks mostly dating back to my “tumblr writing community is dying” post, and i’ve kept them this entire time because i’m just so starstruck. i have no clue how to reply to compliments, so i’m not sure what else to say besides that these asks made me very happy and got me through a few insecure moments!!! i’ve actually been feeling a little down about my writing recently, mostly because of lack of motivation / inspiration, so revisiting these really warmed my heart, so thank you truly ♡ i’m certainly keeping the originals in my inbox until the end of time!!

darling @monstrously-obsessed: psst, this local cryptic mom thing send all of their love for you 💕

vanya: your local herbo says she loves you very much momster 🥺 mwah

also, to the anon worried about my safety:

thank you so much for pointing that out!!! it hadn’t even crossed my mind when i made those ocs, so i appreciate your concern! i was contemplating revamping those two as is, so this is a great place to start! thank you again!!

#asks collection #not a fic #vanya rambles #[ vanya LITERALLY rambles ]#[ life's hard when you're this asocial i swear fgmnfgnmfg ]#[ now to answer concept asks ]

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katyatalks · 4 years

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Animestyle 2019/12 - MP100 Interview Translation

The December 2019 issue of animestyle contains ~50 pages of interviews, and I was lucky enough to be sent every page to read through. Interviewees include Tachikawa Yuzuru (director) & Kameda Yoshimichi (character designer). Contains a bunch of information regarding characters & topics like season 3, so please enjoy!

[Note that this Tumblr compilation misses out quite a few things from the original Twitter thread. If you’re curious, that thread is here.]

TACHIKAWA YUZURU (Director)

Wanted to go for a darker colour scheme for the characters and settings to fit the more dramatic themes in MP100, but Kameda disagreed, wanting to go for something more colourful

Considers S2 more ‘focused on humanity’ than S1

S1 was made without expectation of S2

When cutting bits of the manga from the anime adaptation, a “the viewer will still understand the point of the scene without these lines” approach was used

Considers S2 as having two parts; the character focused part, and claw arc. The decision was made to squeeze claw arc into 4 episodes as Tachikawa hated the idea of sacrificing content from the earlier part for a half-half split

He's well aware of how loved Reigen is; fans tell him so at mob events all the time

Considers the “who exactly am I” question that many of the characters deal with; finds it most impactful with Reigen, as he simply pretends to have powers, whereas Ritsu Mob Teru etc. actually have them

He holds Reigen arc dear to himself, in particular the “be a good person that’s all” conversation that gets put into the anime more than once

He considers Reigen’s growth one of the core themes of S2, alongside Mob’s own

Episode 8 was not in the original plan - S2 was meant to be 12 episodes much like S1.

The omake in which Tsubomi comes to the office was actually drawn for the purpose of giving the team something to put into ep 8 of the anime - team was struggling to find something from the manga to put in (“S&S team doing something for Mob”) so ONE created it

The reason why all the characters in Mob Psycho are so lovely is likely because ONE is a genuinely lovely person so it’s a reflection thing

In response to Reigen’s rant at Mob in ep 6 that causes their rift, Tachikawa says; “we’ve all had moments in which we know saying anything else would be the worst thing to do but we haven’t been able to stop ourselves”. It’s why the scene leaves an impression

In the manga you don’t get to see Reigen’s face after Mob tells him he’s a good person. They added it into the anime, and Tachikawa states that Kameda had a lot of trouble trying to figure out exactly what expression they should give Reigen

Discusses American highschooler Weilin Zhang (of ~17 years old), who drew up around 1800 frames for the purpose of S2E5

Reigen’s website was designed with the brief of it having to look cheap and shoddy

Considers Mob Psycho 100 as having the message “its okay for you to do the things you’d like to” at heart

Mention of not only Japanese fans but international fans increasing with S2

Describes Serizawa as becoming handsome after his haircut in the final episode of S2

On the topic of animating what’s left of the manga, says he’d like to give it a go

KAMEDA YOSHIMICHI (Character Design)

Slightly more time pressure on S2 than S1, which meant there was a bit of detail lost with the drawings for S2

Describes Shinra as a charming character

Goes on to say that he SUPER loves Shinra and really likes drawing him. Discusses how people tend to love attractive characters in anime and as a results there’s not many chubby characters, so he latched onto Shinra

Found the thoughts & feelings of characters a lot easier to read in S2 compared to S1, which made drawing their expressions easier. The more he worked on mob the more he found he understood the characters

Small discussion of Reigen’s behavioural shift from Ep3,4,5 to 6 & complexity of his character. Makes him hard to understand. But he understood Reigen’s feelings of regret in Ep7

Reigen shirt scene segment in Ep6 intended as fanservice

ONE has described Reigen & Mob’s relationship as being similar to that of the main character and the kid from the film “About A Boy” (Will and Marcus)

Compares Reigen to Sakai Masato’s character from “Legal High” (リーガル・ハイ), in that they both do bad things but aren’t ‘bad’

Regarding the choices they made with character shading (blurry on skin, but sharp-edged on hair & clothing), this was inspired by Disney (Aladdin, specifically). Originally they went for blurry-edge on clothes too but decided against it ultimately

Describes how each mob character is pretty distinct and it’s easy to recognise who is who; ie. if they have bobbed hair + no eyebrows, mob; a standoffish countenance, Ritsu; blond hair, Reigen

Describes how in contrast to the simplistic character designs, the atmosphere they’re surrounded by is complex

Amount of young animators working on mob psycho increased from S1

Final manuscripts for S2 were compiled in 2017

States that when he read the manga, Reigen Arc really touched him and it’s the main reason he decided to work on MP100. he was very upset that S1 ended without reaching Reigen arc, and he’s glad they got to tackle it in S2

He considers the growth that Reigen & Mob go through from S2E3 - E8 a principle part of what mp100 is all about

When asked about parts of the manga that haven’t been animated yet, Kameda says there’s a LOT he’d love to bring to the screen. He wants to finish off the anime as “we’ve gotten this far already”

Regarding a potential S3, Kameda is asked if there's really enough material left in the mp100 manga to fit 12 episodes... he agrees that there's probably not, so they could go for 10 episodes much like Attack on Titan S3 Part 2, or a movie. (This is not the first time Kameda has implied S3 could be a film instead.)

If/when they proceed with animating mp100 is dependent on director Tachikawa's schedule, as it's looking a little busy right now

TSUCHIGAMI ITSUKI (S2E11 storyboard, production)

Lead animators for MP100 tended to be young; mostly in their 20s, 2-3 people in their 30s, no one in their 40s

Never felt like he was in an atmosphere where he was under hellish time pressure to get things done

On being asked his thoughts on mp100 S2 as a whole, Tsuchigami says he enjoyed it but felt like it could've been longer. He was happy w the pace of E1-3, but felt dissatisfied with E4-5. Was happy with E6-8, but then with E9 onwards felt a bit dissatisfied

Felt like the story-related elements had to be cut down in order to fit the length of the season they were given; this is where his dissatisfaction stems from. Regardless, he very much enjoyed S2

OGASAWARA SHIN (Animation director, animator)

The staff working on MP100 were allowed a lot of creative freedom

Animation director for S2E3, and animated for E3 (from Reigen repeatedly pressing the doorbell of the stalker to Reigen saying let's go out for soba) and E11 (around the Justifiable Self-Defence Rush)

Reigen's Justifiable Self-Defence Rush was animated with the intention of giving it a manga-panel-like feel

S2 was completed without any huge blunder happening

UCHIDA NAOTO (Animation director, animator)

Originally did work for S1, but felt like nothing but a hindrance and wanted to crawl into a hole. But the workplace atmosphere was great and everyone was very kind, so it ended up being a good experience

Animation director for S2E4, and was split animation director with Nakamura Hayate for S2E10. Did animation for the opening, E1,4,5,10. E1 animation: around when Emi + pals are with Mob at the embankment. E4: from 'Nakamura's flashy explosion' ((Reigen cut by glass scene?)) to when the espers are being kicked around. E5: when Reigen and Dimple are having their back-and-forth. E10: layout of the awakening lab.

Found season 2 very enjoyable. Being an animation director was excellent. Character design? Godlike. Felt incredibly lucky that he got to take part

NAKAMURA HAYATE (Animation director, animator)

As stated above Uchida & Nakamura worked on S2E10 as animation directors. Uchida covered the first part of the episode, and Nakamura the latter half

Nakamura animated for S2E4 + E10. E4: around when Mob attacks Minori attempting to exorcise Mogami from her, E10: Suzuki + co's entrance, when Mob possessed by Dimple & Shibata exit the building, Telepathy Club scene, and from Mob + Body Improvement Club's parting to the final scene

Felt like he could've done a little better for S2. And on a personal level wishes he got to draw more action scenes

ETC.

We've had confirmation from ONE already that REIGEN is complete with a single volume, but we've got that confirmation again here too with the way the sales description is written

Thanks for reading!

#mp100 #mob psycho 100 #reigen arataka #kageyama shigeo #serizawa katsuya #is mentioned i suppose? they dont really mention too many characters #my stuff

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shouldhavebeenyou · 3 years

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The Storm

Its not fair.

Its been seven years since I fell in love with you. Every single day since then, my life has been turned upside down. It was raw, rough, passionate, incredible, painful, young love. I had no clue what I was doing with a girl like you. You were so high above me, all I knew was that I wanted it to last forever. You had the dopest soul I ever encountered, and I never knew I could care for someone so much. You may never know the effect you had on me. The moments we spent together replay in my head over and over, eroding away my will to live with every painful memory.

But are the memories really painful? No, I suppose not. Those memories are full of complex emotions; happiness, sadness, longing, regret, love, despair, hopelessness, and yes, pain. Those memories are all I have left of our time together, aside from a few obscure landscape photographs where you were just out of frame. I try not to look at them.. but when I do it brings it all back. I wish I kept more of a record of us. As time goes on, it gets harder to remember. I lay awake at night just trying to play it all out. Just trying to remember your beautiful face, the feel of your lips, the sound of your laugh, the smell of your skin, the endless puns and witty jokes. The places we discovered and adventured together. The trouble we got in.

Its not fair.

I can’t sleep. It’s been a few years of this. Each night is filled with hours of replaying my mistakes in my head, hours of picturing your face inches from mine, hours of remembering the nights spent at your childhood home out on the trampoline talking, replaying the memories of taking so long to leave that your dad flips the porch light on and off to say “hurry up.” After hours of recalling the best and worst of it all I might finally slip into an exhausted state where I just can’t think anymore. It’s like sleeping, but altogether different too, like a restless trance. Images flash through my head, some of them memories, some of them inventions of the dreaming mind. About every hour I’ll awake from this trance for a few moments, my heart racing and feeling broken, only to slip back into this nightmarish world of what could have been. Should have been.

Its like a slow, drawn out death. With every restless night the next day gets harder. The last time I truly felt alive was with you. The last time I truly felt in love was with you. The last time I truly felt, was with you. The last thing you said to me runs through my head over and over daily. I’ve held on to that memory since then like it was my only shot at freedom, at redemption, at life. Its naïve, I know, but I still think maybe, just maybe, we’ll run into each other on that crowded city street and pick up where we left off, just like you said that day you last left me.

Its not fair.

I did everything I thought I was supposed to. I’m such an idiot. You said to go to finish my degree, move away, and maybe when I’m finished with it we would run into each other on that crowded street. Well I’m done, I got that expensive piece of qualifying paper. In my fight for it, I lost sight of you. I became romanticized, deluded. In my degraded state of emptiness without you I became ravenous for something, anything, that would make me feel again. I tried more things to fill that void than I would like to admit, but the one that stuck was skydiving. The rush of air beneath me, the sky around and above me, the horizon seemingly stretching endlessly in every direction, the deafening roar of wind, and the feeling of soaring miles through empty space are the closest I have felt to you since you left. And yet, it falls so short that even hundreds of skydives couldn’t make me forget you, couldn’t measure up to the way you made me feel. If only I told myself to ditch the parachute and fly to you before it was too late. You are truly irreplaceable, and I can only hope he knows that as well as I do.

You have become the Daisy to my Gastby, the green light at the end of the dock across the bay, the unobtainable end to my story. I don’t know who I would be without that force driving me, but sometimes I can’t help but think I would be better, happier. Like Gatsby gone to war, I have probably romanticized your memory too much in those years since you left and I moved, distorting the dope soul I once knew and loved unconditionally into an impossibly perfect idea of you. Before I knew it, I was done with school, left skydiving by the wayside, and trapped myself with someone who reminded me of you. Someone who sparked something in me for just a moment, and gave me hope again. I chased her hoping it would come back, but it didn’t. I don’t know why I settled. Maybe after the exhaustion of sleepless years I just wanted to take the easy way out, and be done with the chase. Maybe I didn’t feel like I deserved you, and I gave up before really even trying. I hate myself for that. I feel like a masochist torturing himself because he just doesn’t know better, or perhaps because he thinks the pain and despair will make him stronger. Well, it hasn’t. I’m weak. Broken. A shell of the man I used to be. I was once able to smile, genuinely. Now, it’s like I’ve lost the muscle memory to smile or laugh. I look back at pictures of myself before I moved to this fiery hell, and that man is unrecognizable. You can see the hope that was once in my eyes, the youth in my face, the ambition and energy. Its all gone now.

Its not fair.

I tried to move on. I spent hours reading, occupying my mind with something else. I’ve read hundreds of books just trying to think about you less. But some days, I just can’t help myself but to look you up and see how you’re doing. I always regret it. It pushes me back into that deep depressive state where I just can’t do anything anymore. It breaks me nearly every time. Your engagement broke me. Your wedding broke me. You look so happy with him, and that alone is maybe the only thing that keeps me alive, albeit hanging on by a thread.

I tried to focus on the future, and not dwell on the past. I tried to fully engross myself in my relationship, my work, my hobbies, to find some source of happiness outside of you and your memory. Finally, one such source came. I was going to have a daughter. A new love of my life. Someone who maybe could finally make me happy again, give me a sense of purpose, of hope, ambition, the energy to get out of bed in the morning.

Its not fair.

She died. The only thread of hope I had, the first taste of feeling anything real since you left. Gone. I thought I had known pain and depression before, but this cut through me like an icy blade. And it just kept cutting. I saw her, I held her lifeless body in my hands, her precious form only the size of my palm. It killed me. I remembered you. You had once told me you always had a feeling you could never physically have children. They say that God has an ironic sense of humor, but I don’t find this humorous at all. With some sick twist of fate, it was not you, but I, who could not beget. Months of pain and anguish went by, as I slipped deeper into my state of peril.

I’m 25 now. This was a hard birthday this past weekend. I couldn’t stop thinking about you and how over and above you always went with gifts and birthdays. I also couldn't stop thinking about how the only thing I wanted was my daughter back. I had some sick day dream that maybe you both would come back to me, the best birthday gift possible. I fought it. I pushed hard against the thoughts that crept into the dark corners of my mind, the thoughts of us. I wanted the pain to just end. I fought against it for a few nights, until last night. Yet another sleepless night filled with memories, flashes, flooding into my closed eyes and keeping me restless. Irrationally I thought “Maybe if I could just see her face, it would hurt a little less.” I was wrong.

Its not fair.

You have a daughter of your own on the way. Due nearly the same time as mine was, in the Fall. We always loved Autumn. The leaves, the air, the color, the fading daylight and cool breeze. It always reminds me of you, and our naïve “Something Day.” I’ll never forget we chose our favorite month, October, and our favorite number, 4, that we just happened to have in common. Its a painful day every year. Its not fair. Why does my daughter get taken from me the same time you’re given one? Why does everything I love get taken from me? Why am I not deserving of the life I wanted? What did I do to deserve this life of consistent pain and inadequacy? I hate it. I want out. I don’t know how much longer I can live with this pain. A scene from one of our darker days plays on repeat in my mind. You wanted to meet near the library to talk. It was late in the summer, the middle of monsoon season. In typical monsoon fashion, there were clouds all around us, thundering and flashing with lightning, though immediately above us a hole penetrated the clouds, allowing the sun to shine through on us. It seems like a scene from a novel, the weather meant to foreshadow what was about to happen in my heart. You looked more broken than I had ever seen you, with your eyes downcast and wrists bloody. That sight alone shattered my heart. You told me all your friends, the people that made you happy, hated that we were together. It was your last year of high school, I would’ve hated myself if you were miserable at school your entire senior year, all because of me. You said you couldn’t do it anymore, and that we needed to break up. It might not have been our last break up, but it was the most painful. Perhaps it was all amplified by the scenery and my young, dramatic, broken heart. We parted and I sat in my car there at the library for hours, sobbing uncontrollably and praying to God asking why. The storm that was raging around us quickly descended upon me, and upon my heart, ripping a hole through the middle of it like the hole of sun that was above us. Before I knew it my tears were one with the downpour that was all around me.

That scene is all I can think about now. The storm is so vivid, I could paint it with the minutest detail. A new hole has been rent through my scarred heart and left there by my departed daughter, reminding me of the hole that was first left there 7 years ago by you, and which has been repeatedly reopened and scarred over since. I’ve tried to heal, but I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel true happiness again. I don’t know if I’ll ever find true passion again, like I had with you. I don’t know if I’ll ever know true hope again, like when my daughter was alive. Its not fair. You’ve moved on. You’re happy with him. You’re creating a beautiful family with a new daughter. Here I am, stuck in the past, unable to let go of the storm you left in my heart.

Its just not fair.

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allyvampirelass29 · 4 years

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When Good Fathers Take BAD Roads

When Good Fathers Take BAD Roads A NOS4A2 Review By: Allyssa J. Watkins

The Wraith screams, racing breakneck with demon speed A wicked black flash, gone and there like smoke Ferrying passengers three, wearing the faces of ghosts What shadows chase you, Charlie, accompanied by those you love the most? Are you going to kill your darlings On this, the Road of No Return? Tires squeal and rubber burns A pathway forms more nightmare than real A knife ripping through reality, tearing at the tragic seam The road to Christmasland is paved in screams Your daughter transformed, while you ignore your wife's haunting cry Hold on, Good Father, for the ride of your life.

HOLY SMASH, and MERRY FREAKING CHRISTMAS!!!!! "Good Father," was the ride, the MIND TRIP of my LIFE, as chilling, as it was thrilling, screaming unyielding into the drastic extreme, blinding light, and drowning darkness, happy and horrible, beautiful, and brutal, and it was a ride I only just barely survived. This is me, breathing heavy, adrenaline pumping, my legs giving out, kissing the ground, and yet, I have never felt this conflicted, torn up inside, about anything I've ever seen, drawn transfixed to the effervescence, the beckoning dream, and yet eviscerated by the looming, blood-dripping grin of the abject HORROR. What the HELL just happened!?

Okay, breathe, Ally...... So much to say, and yet my mind is a trembling mess of disparity, driven in the Wraith to the edge of madness itself!!! First off, can we just marvel at the enigmatic force, the sheer brilliance, and other worldly acting prowess that is possessed by our Mister Zachary Quinto!?!? I am CONVINCED he is an actual Strong Creative, and has graciously drawn us all in, in order to witness him build his inscape, and speak actual MAGIC!!! Besides being a catastrophic kind of handsome, the dark allure that you long to destroy you, striking your eyes, and stealing your heart, making you his happy, breathless victim, Zachary shifts effortlessly between dream and nightmare, being beautiful and terrifying, waltzing between both, with a passion that will leave you shell-shocked.

This episode is so hard to analyze, because it possesses both the brightest, happiest, most achingly euphoric scenes of the series, while also the creeping, darkest hours I have ever known. It begins like a splashy, champagne, Downton Daydream, Our Beloved Charles, delighting and igniting our passions, with his adorable antics, donning a pair of matchstick fangs, and we all heave a lovesick sigh, longing so to be the girl in his arms, that he's playfully pretending to bite. You will ALWAYS be My Nosferatu....... I whispered it along with her, watching the joy pierce through the calm dark of those perfect eyes, and all I want is to be her, his wife, Mrs. Manx. I was so excited, so impressed by this coy wink to NOS4A2's own parent material, the original 1922 silent film, “Nosferatu,” upon which our mad fever fantasy is based, that I broke into the biggest grin, shaking my head at the pure genius of it. Charles' distaste for the picture, and scoffing opinion, mocking it, calling it ridiculous, was a pure, tongue in cheek, joy, and I'm still trembling from when he said, "Love Bite." Ooooh, and the scene in the bedroom was so intimate and beautiful, as Charlie and Cassie share their dreams for the future, along with a dance and a passionate kiss, as some wonderous news is revealed. The family Manx is to become three, with a little sugar plum named Millie!!!

I wept when Charles held his daughter for the first time, as I realized THIS is where his obsession with Christmas began, as he received the greatest gift of them all. Every time he "saves," a new child, he gets to feel it all over again, in the glow of the coloured lights, and the tinkling bells of the music, what it's like to be a father, and to be loved, unconditionally by a child. He gazes at her with the purest, most profound love, even while his Father in Law, treats him perfectly horrid, openly degrades him, and yes, in one heart-stopping moment calls him a vampire!!! I was SPEECHLESS!!! His bond with his daughter is so powerful, and endearing, I sobbed, the most joyous tears ever I have shed, watching him tuck his beautiful little girl into bed, and soothe her fears in the flash of a lightning strike, both of them carefully constructing Christmasland in their minds, never knowing they would find it beyond the realm of lost dreams. I felt so happy I thought I could die, so moved by this tender scene, so oblivious as to what lay in wait......... as we twisted slowly around the corner.........

It was jarring enough, flashing between these idyllic Currier and Ives scenes, all luminous oil paintings come to life, to Charlie's decaying, autopsied, Frankenstein creature, shuffling, groaning, bleeding, through the living world. And yet, that was rather interesting, the ghastly contrast between Charlie's wonderful life, and the re-animated husk of his gruesome death. I especially loved his joyride in the stolen zebra print car!!! That was hilarious!!! However, the turn that I knew was coming, that I dreaded, was far more stomach-churning, and desperately frustrating than I could have ever prepared myself for.

Again, Zachary's acting was mesmerizing, every expression, every wild look in his eye, was so beautifully, and breathlessly performed, but for me, it was the writing itself, that went screaming off the rails. Charlie goes from the perfect husband, the most charming, and doting father, to difficult, suspicious, and accusing, for seemingly no reason at all. The way he spoke about his first wife in Parnassus, I expected to see her become the begrudging, bitter ball and chain he made her out clearly to be. But Cassie's sins are few and far between, and her punishments, and especially her disturbingly MORBID end, are unjustified. She tries to be practical by asking Charlie very politely if she should get a job, to which Charlie responds with unprovoked venom, with the same malice as if she'd revealed she'd been unfaithful. Thus begins, this odd new trend of Charlie continuously overreacting, entirely out of character, and blaming Cassie for everything going so wrong, actively wanting to hurt her, even selling off her mother's priceless heirlooms. My head hurt, my heart broke, and my GOD something was rotten in Christmasland!!! I realized then, that this whole episode has the faintest cyanide taste of audience manipulation.

"Good Father," seems to serve the single and sole purpose of turning the audience against Charlie Manx, and I could feel the force of the plot, trying to shift my mind in that unnatural direction. I could see the clever scheme at work, the writing on the wall, as they must have thought....... They love him too much........ Let's give Charlie his BITE back. Let's take this beautifully unique, nuanced, wounded, enigmatic, anti-hero, and make them love him even more, show him in all the tenderness, and affection they have so long craved, let them fall in love with him all over again, and then........ let's make them hate him, see that he is beyond saving, the incarnation of the purest evil. Let's ruin him, and that's how we'll ruin them. WHY!? This is the question that has kept me up in relentless frustration all week. WHY spend all this time, crafting this fascinating, deliciously intricate character, learning the pains and joys and hopes of his life, just to laugh it off, and say, oh no, Charlie Manx is a monster, and you're wrong for liking him!? To them I say, "If loving Charlie Manx is wrong....... I don't wanna be right." Because in spite of the blood curdling atrocities, and my tearful horror in the face of such plot, I can't not LOVE Charlie Manx.

What I have always loved about NOS4A2, is the way it flirts with the elements of horror, skirting teasingly around the sharp edge without fully going there. The final scene however screams full speed ahead into that sickening foray, and I was left trembling, terrified, sobbing stricken with just that. HORROR.

"Charlie, STOP, you're going to kill us all!!!"

"On that, My Dear, we are agreed."

While I was confused as to whether it was his intent to kill them all, drunkenly crashing his Wraith, or if he knew what terror would transpire on the way to Christmasland, this was a ride none of them were coming back from. Its gut-wrenching, frightening images, are matched only by its lack of even a semblance of sense. Charlie watches, excitedly, as his darling daughter's teeth fall out in a bloody display, absorbing her youth, her lifeforce, transforming her into a soulless vampire, and he doesn't so much as bat one of his gorgeous eyelashes, as his child kills and feasts on her mother's flesh. Yeah, I know........ MORBID. I was also bewildered as to how the car turned Charlie into a vampire of youth, and Millie into one of blood. Also, call me crazy, but....... Does not one first have to die to become a vampire?

But even more a glaring folly, no way in HELL would Charlie EVER kill his family, his sweet baby, no matter how bad things were with Cassie. Wouldn't it make SO much more sense for him to steal her back, and thus wouldn’t he come to see kidnapping synonymous with “saving,” a child, if Millie was the first one? Instead of having him try to kill them all, if that even was his dark intent, I would have had Cassie and Charlie fighting in the car, and Charlie, distracted by the quarrel, swerve, losing control, accidently crashing the Wraith. Cassie would be too far gone, but through his connection to the car, his Wraith would fight to save him, even if it meant borrowing a little siphon of his own daughter's youth.

Yeah, hey, let's talk for a quick sec about The Wraith. We know Charlie's life is connected to this mysterious car, but what we didn't know was how he acquired it........ until now. I don't know about you guys, but having Charlie simply purchase it, felt cheap to me, like it took away the magic of the fated knife, that he was always supposed to have. Bought. Sold. Done. NO. I didn't like it, and it never proved evident of the bond between Charlie and his Wraith. I would have had him find it, since he couldn't afford a new car on his own, a carcass, old, disused, rusted, and lovingly restore it, nurse it back to health, to life, until it shined. Charlie has a relationship with this car, a supernatural tie, and to me that would have been so much better, so much more meaningful than him pawning his wife's valuables to buy it. Meaning anybody could have done the same. One thing I LOVED about that scene, however, was seeing our dear Charles in his resplendent royal blue and blood red Chauffer's garb for the first time ever!!!! What a sneaking joy!!!

That's the thing about this episode, it's a dangerously mixed cocktail of anti-depressants and alcohol. There's so much to love, so much to hate, and so much to work over and over, trying to figure, until the point of insanity!!! I LOVED everything between our Miniature McQueen and young, hot, plaid clad Charlie, (HELLO SYLAR, am I right!?) and my heart STOPPED when I saw him over Wayne's shoulder, my pulse on pause, as they talked, and Charlie tutted disapproving, at the boy having never had a Christmas, not knowing who he was, who his mother was......... The suspense, the tension, was riveting.

I don't know how I feel about this impressive effort, trying to get me to despise Bing less, by having him say propaganda like, "I thought I was so big, because I had too much sad in me." That broke my heart, and it was infuriating, because I didn't want to feel any sympathy for him. No NOS4A2, you cannot try to turn me against My Magnificent Mister Manx, and in the same space, try to get me to like Bing CREEPER Partridge!!!! The scene in the graveyard was exceptionally well done, and I'm still shivering from the hushed thrill in Charlie's voice as he whispers. "He needs saving, Bing Partridge, don’t you agree?"

"Good Father," was an even more thrilling prospect as a title to me than, "Bad Mother," because I always knew it was true. Although, in retrospect, one is more inspired brilliance than the other. Can you still be a good father, and watch proudly as your young daughter becomes a monster, devouring her mother? Can you still be a good father, and leave your daughter, after she thought you were dead for eight years? Charlie is a good father, that went down a BAD road, and has forgotten the way back, although he still dons every surface appearance, as such. I did like when he made Millie apologize to his new charge, and curtsy with a begrudging welcome, spoken through her gritted teeth. That was adorably paternal, and one hundred percent Charlie!!!! However, as a whole, this episode persists as the mystery I can't solve, making me feel every emotion possible on the human spectrum, drinking in the dream, blissfully intoxicated, and sobbing uncontrollably, terrified out of my mind, the next.

Charlie may not be, "The Good Father," he once was, but a glimmer of it shines like a forgotten ember in his obsidian eyes, and despite the glaring conclusion this episode emphatically urges you to make, I still hold that there is good in Charlie, and that he can be saved. I also think it speaks revelations toward labels. Vic is no more a scarlet letter branded Bad Mother, than Charlie is a Good Father. There is good and bad, hero and villain, in all of us. It just depends what roads we're willing to take.

#nos4a2 review #charlie manx #vic mcqueen #bing partridge #millie manx #wayne mcqueen #good father #nos4a2

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hornsandthings · 5 years

Text

vices i admire;

pairing: barry berkman x reader

summary: reader accidentally finds barry’s stash of weapons, and barry is forced to come clean.

tags: fluff, angst // word count: 2.3k

a soft muttering woke you, the low grumbles and frustrated huffs stirring your hair.

“he don’t bolt—put a bolt into—to a nut; he don’t bolt a nut—fuck—”

lazy and lethargic, you nuzzled closer to barry’s neck as your hand came to rest on his chest. he was much warmer than the light comforter, and holding him close at night was the only way to keep the chill at bay. he responded just as languidly, arm curling around your waist tighter. you knew, however, that this was due to distraction, not fatigue.

“runnin’ lines?” you mumbled into his skin, voice thick and heavy with sleep. it was nice to wake up with barry, to have him close like this. he had always been a very nice and generous man, but often you thought he was somewhat unknowable, too. at times when he thought you were asleep, you saw how hard his mind worked, those thick brows betraying a deep frown. barry was approachable, but seldom open.

“—then you get yourself a couple of shots—spots, goddamn it; spots on your hat—”

a smile pulled at your mouth, a giggle trapped in your throat. you could only imagine barry’s expression – flat on his back, glaring at the ceiling, looking harsh while he accommodated your nuzzling with soft touches.

“barry,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his clavicle. you had to blink the sleep away, but there he was, looking down at you.

“—a salesman is got to dream?” he finished, eyes saying how did you sleep? while his words ended that speech. you laughed, cupping his jaw as you pulled him in for a kiss. it was easy and gentle, but you could still feel the soft intensity he managed to place behind it. again and again did he mould his lips to yours, carefully nudging you so that he was hovering above now, cradling your cheek in a way that always hinted at caution.

shuffling steps in the next room, a heavy sigh that dragged in a way only a performer could manage. “barry!” someone called, “you forgot the milk! goddammit, man, you know it’s just an aisle away from the gatorade—”

barry deflated, mouth already working up an annoyed mumble but you kissed the tip of his nose, warding away the whispered “fuck!” that was on the tip of his tongue. you jumped as the roommate pounded on the door, offering up another weary sigh.

“please, man. breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

“your cereal is eighty percent sugar. you know that, right?” he retorted back while still looking at you, eyes flickering to your grin. you bit your lip during the pause, trying to smother your laugh. barry only looked put out.

the doorknob turned, letting out a tell-tell squeak and now barry jolted. “fine, fine!” he quickly shouted, hurriedly pulling the covers up to his shoulders as you gripped him closer like a shield. your briefly eyed the nearest article of clothing – in the corner, a few feet away – and burst into a big belly laugh at barry’s alarmed face, quite comical with those expressive brows as he swallowed thickly.

he grumbled a little, disentangling himself from you between quick, chaste kisses. “i’m sorry,” he sighed, shaking his head as he shrugged on a hoodie, fumbled with a pair of pants. “i’ll be back soon, alright? thirty minutes.”

“no worries, baby,” you mused, wrapping the comforter all around you as he left. daylight crept in beneath the blinds, and you allowed yourself to just sit a while, taking in barry’s room. there was little to indicate he’d been a marine, most of it packed away into a box stored in the closet. instead, things that told of his aspirations to acting dotted the room: gene’s book on the bedside table, a pile of old scripts in the corner, spare props peeking out from beneath the bed. you’d only seen him perform onstage twice so far; while his delivery couldn’t quite communicate the amount of effort he always put into it, you supported his desires wholeheartedly.

this thing with barry – it was only a few months old, but the dedication throughout had felt pure and strong. the care between you two was genuine, and there was more than just simple attraction; the way he touched you, held you – it was laced with adoration. huffing a chuckle, you stepped out of the bed and wriggled into your underthings. muffled sounds from the television filtered through the door as you searched for your socks, tuned to some morning soap.

this – you wouldn’t mind a life like this. to spend the nights with barry, wake up in his arms, coming to also know his lines from the sheer amount of times he went over them; to become part of his life in a way that meant more mornings like this. perhaps you two weren’t quite there yet, but sometimes – just from the way this particular happiness felt – you could tell that you, at least, were close.

resolving to tidy up, you reached for the comforter to disentangle the knot you’d made of it. the material snagged, and with a frown you tried pulling to no avail. kneeling at the foot of the bed, you realised it had caught in the mattress’ zipper. jerking the quilt hard, it finally ripped free, tugging the zip right open with it.

your heart stopped, skin crawling as goosebumps developed. with a trembling hand, you uncovered the array of firearms so expertly displayed within the mattress fibre. there were pistols, barrels, bullets and silencers; black, menacing things with an express purpose. to hurt. to kill.

the door swung open and barry jerked to a halt, mimicking you as he went very still. those wide eyes and thick brows were no longer comical or endearing; no, they were alarming, frightening, intimidating. right now, he was a stranger.

“i—i didn’t mean to—,” you stuttered, throat closing and jaw hurting as fear began its slow asphyxiation. barry was breathing just as hard as you, horroron his face as that stash of guns glinted dully in the space between.

“listen, i—”

a shout of laughter rang from the kitchen, and barry’s jaw clenched as your gaze flickered to the door behind him. both reminded of the presence of other people – help for you, trouble for him – barry moved slow, nudging the door closed.

“listen,” he said again, low and deliberate, “i can explain.”

you scrambled back as he stepped forward, sliding until your back hit the wall. a soft whimper fell from your mouth as he continued to near, but as soon as the sound hit him, he lowered to his knee a few feet away.

“after afghanistan—i didn’t have anything else to be good at,” he started, desperation replacing the alarm on his face. “someone took advantage of that. i—i had to do things…”

barry’s breath hitched in a way that forewarned tears, and your own eyes stung.

“i tried—i’m trying—to get out of it, but i’m in so deep, sweetheart, it just won’t—fuck!”

he gasped for breath, shaking his head as if trying to straighten his thoughts. you were shivering, reading the subtext that was simply terrifying. incomprehensible. those odd hours when he’d show up at your door, distraught and in need of comfort; he’d always blamed it on his acting process, the result of getting into character, but now – now you knew better. you couldn’t even look at him anymore, those red and tearful eyes just too much.

“i know it’s wrong. i know. it’s not who i am—not anymore. i realised it when i came to LA, but i knew it before. deep down. but—but i’m good at it, and they won’t just let me be—”

“barry,” you pleaded, “barry—”

“please, please believe me,” he begged, even clasping his hands together. nausea roiled in your gut, mind sticky as reality slurred. barry – this… this man – was frantic; instability and guns didn’t make for a good combination. “i can’t let it happen again—i need you to just figure this out with me, alright? please.”

“i w-won’t tell a-anyone,” you rushed, thoughts racing. you wanted to believe him – god, you’d wanted to love him – but this… this was horrifying. “i promise, just—please don’t h-hurt me.” you were curled into yourself, knees and hands drawn up to your chest.

barry flinched in disbelief. “i won’t ever hurt you,” he promised, no fumbling to be heard; it was clear despite the dishevelment that threatened to undo him. barry’s distress tugged at your heart, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to that line yet. your eyes drifted to those weapons again, torn between sympathy and repulsion. barry winced, covering up the flap as he risked moving closer.

“the war is over, barry,” you whispered. a sad, simple truth laid bare, barely making its way to him. you should’ve known that such integration after serving was too good and too soon; a life without violence may not ever be enough for him.

barry’s voice failed, giving a mournful nod instead. “i’m sorry,” he said, voice filled with unadulterated sorrow for himself, for you, for what had happened, for everything. “i’m so sorry.”

it was quiet for a time. he was crying softly in front of you while you just stared at the door beyond him, shutting down breath by breath. eventually barry realised, moving away.

“i’m not holding you hostage,” he murmured, a hollowness to his voice that sent a dull spike of fear within you. “you can… you can go,” he said, jaw feathering as he probably weighed the consequences.

nodding mutely, you grabbed your jeans and the first shirt you found, not even noticing that it was actually barry’s. breathing deep, you eyed him as prey would eye a predator; wary, distrustful, afraid. he slouched, seeming to fold into himself as he allowed you a wide berth.

and so you left, putting one step in front of the other and keeping your head down, pulse still thundering in your ears. his roommates greeted you but all you heard was a series of discordant sounds, including your own vague reply before the apartment door shut behind you.

+++

two weeks. it had been two weeks of no contact, and barry had barrelled through the days thinking his world was imploding again. he tried to keep up a sense of normalcy by going to work, to acting class, to the grocery store, to the bar with his friends. routine. routine was all that could save him now.

he’d wanted to be selfish, to keep you there until he was sure you wouldn’t eventually resort to the police, but unfriendly memories had come unbidden – of chris, of janice. he couldn’t fuck up this one – it was you, goddammit, he couldn’t even think of laying a hand on you. so he had let you go with the shred of hope that you’d see the truth of barry berkman. there were times he’d wanted to come and visit you, but he couldn’t risk scaring you even further. god, just the look on your face, the tremble to your lip – it sickened him to know that he was the cause of it. you’d been cowering from him, so vulnerable and exposed; caught in a twisted caricature of more intimate scenes you two would share. he hated himself for it. every time he loaded another shot, he could taste the spilled blood in his mouth, see the betrayal in your eyes. even now, as he watched some movie trying to be mindless for just one hour, the guilt nagged at the back of his mind.

a knock on the door. looking around, he met the raised brows of his roommates and acquiesced. with a sigh, he trudged over, expecting another lost missionary—

but it was you.

it was you, eyes bruised and face gaunt with the knowledge that had troubled you for days. his fingers twitched with the urge to reach out, but he stepped into the corridor instead, shutting the door behind him.

“what—,” he croaked, voice breaking. “you—”

you let out a shuddering breath, and barry shifted on his feet as he saw tears glistening in your eyes. “i believe you, barry.” it was a low, breathy sentence, drenched in dread and regret. it seemed like you were going to say something more, but you just shook your head.

despite this, barry’s heart lifted in a desperate sense of relief. a hitched, breathy laugh fell from his mouth. it was instinct to reach for you, and although you tensed, you fell into his embrace with a muffled sob, hands fisted in his shirt. barry swallowed his own tears, holding you close, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“you’re important to me,” he confessed. “you’re part of this good life – the one that i want, the one with happiness and love – and i don’t wanna give it up. i promise i’m not a monster… i, uh, don’t think i am? i—i don’t wanna be.”

with a sharp inhale, you looked up at him as you cupped his jaw. your brows were furrowed, corners of your mouth turned down, but you were holding him. you were here.

“i don’t know where we go from here,” you admitted, “but i care for you, barry. i want you to be okay.”

he nodded, face crumpling as he did so. hands cradling your neck, barry kissed you with all the longing he had in him, all the yearning and pining for things that were always so close to slipping from his hold.

starting now, he told himself. the mantra that always failed him, but the one that he tried – always tried – to live by. perhaps this time.

starting… now.

#barry berkman x reader #barry berkman imagine #barry berkman fanfiction #i love bill hader :(#his lines are from a. miller's death of a salesman

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princess-of-france · 4 years

Note

I’m interested in your take on Angelo & Isabella w/ personality parallels (also just your opinion on Angelo especially tbh because I feel like I under-analyzed him when I read the play bc I was just. Well, found him scary :P) because obviously w/ your production you’re pretty deep in and I don’t see a lot of MFM content

Oof, this is a loaded question.

I’m happy to answer it, but I think I should make a disclaimer that—as you point out—my opinions of Angelo are skewed by my experiences as an actor inside a specific production. I’m also not an English scholar; I’m a theater artist. My lit crit skills are dodgy at best (as @lizbennett2013 knows all too well), and I don’t believe there is a single way to interpret any character in drama, especially when you’re dealing with heightened text. All I can do is give my honest appraisal of Angelo as I have encountered him dramaturgically through cutting our script, rehearsing Isabella, and seeing his iterations in other productions.

So! Angelo and Isabella. Two sides of the same coin. I really think they are.

Let’s get the obvious stuff out of the way first: Angelo is scary. He just is. His sexually motivated exploitation of authority continues to be one of the most transcendent aspects of this ever-timely play. However you stage it, however you trim the text, whatever charismatic actor you slot into the role, Angelo is a capital-T-Terror and there’s no getting around it. Coercive, manipulative, hypocritical, ruthless, misogynistic, fraudulent, and cruel, he basically spends the entirety of MEASURE FOR MEASURE committing crimes and then soliloquizing about how painful it all is for his bargain-price conscience. You’ll never hear me say he doesn’t deserve his reputation as one of the most reprehensible tyrants in all of Shakespeare.

But.

Of the three defining qualities I see in Angelo—ideological dogmatism, rhetorical prowess, and professional pride—there’s not one of them that is not blisteringly prominent in his antagonist, Isabella. Despite the fact that she’s a Catholic republican (“Butt out of people’s lives, Big Government; God will judge us when we die!”) and he’s a Puritan[ical] bureaucrat (“My job is to regulate people’s lives because purgatory is a myth!”), they have far more in common, cognitively, than not. Understand: I’m not saying that Angelo is not a piece of shit for how he behaves throughout course of the play. Nor am I implying that Isabella is somehow culpable for his masturbatory exercise of power over her. My girl has flaws, but she’s unquestionably the hero of M4M. What I’m trying to articulate is that Angelo and Isabella were born with the same psychological toolkit, which they elect to apply towards radically different purposes. (Think Parseltongue and “It is our choices that show who we truly are, far more than our abilities…”) This shared intellectual arsenal is what makes their pair of scenes in Act Two so iconic. We basically get to watch them play out Newton’s Third Law in real time: for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction… As far as rhetoric goes, neither Isabella nor Angelo can overwhelm the other. For every argument she makes in favor of mercy, he punctures it with legalism. For every judicial explication he provides, she dissolves it with morality. One minute, we’re nodding our heads along with Angelo as he explains why Christian values should have no place in a court of law; the next, we’re on our feet cheering for Isabella to convince him to factor human integrity into his role as a public servant. I can’t read 2.2 as anything other than the blueprint for every screenplay Aaron Sorkin ever wrote. It is the ultimate courtroom drama.

Just look at the play’s opening act. Angelo’s hasty promotion aside, both he and Isabella begin the story at the lowest rung of their respective vocational ladders: he’s a would-be Chief Justice, she’s a would-be Prioress. Deputy/nun. Politics/religion. Different spheres/same ambition. And, in like true zealots, both Angelo and Isabella express their commitment to their new duties in terms of self-flagellation:

“You may not so extenuate his offenseFor I have had such faults, but rather tell me,When I that censure him do so offend,Let mine own judgment pattern out my deathAnd nothing come in partial.” (Angelo, II.i.29-33)

“And have you nuns no farther privileges?[…] I speak not as desiring more,But rather wishing a more strict restraintUpon the sisterhood, the votarists of Saint Clare.” (Isabella, I.iv.1, 3-5)

It’s also worth mentioning that our first introduction to these characters features them scurrying along in the wake of an authority figure they respect.

Act 1, Scene 1: Angelo wants to know the extent to which he can wield his law degree at the pleasure of the Duke of Vienna (the Duke himself!).

Act 1, Scene 4: Isabella wants to know the extent to which she can practice self-denial for the glory of God and the approval of Mother Superior.

They are both drawn to gravitas, to figures who represent order and authority. They are also drawn to discipline. He’s a non-drinking, non-smoking Precision. She’s a gluttony-abhorring Bride of Christ. Let the rest of the world eat cake. They will be eating their sins and purifying their souls, thank you very much.

At the risk of descending into the flaming pits of cliché, I’ll also touch on those three qualities I mentioned earlier, because who says the TPE (Three Paragraph Essay) is dead?

First up: ideological dogmatism.

[Side note: I may be a crappy historian, but I do recognize there’s a historical paradigm at play in this text. Vienna needs to be a Catholic city and Angelo’s Protestantism needs to be allusive because Shakespeare presumably valued all his limbs and didn’t relish the idea of rotting in a Cheapside prison. If he’d lived in a “free press” kind of sociocultural context, he might have endowed his religious figures with a bit more Opinion. I digress.]

In the M4M-centered episode of Isaac Butler’s phenomenal podcast, “Lend Me Your Ears,” he interviews JohnPaul Spiro (Assistant Director of the School of Liberal Arts, Villanova University), who does a wonderfully unfussy job of summing up the Angelo/Isabella ideology parallel:

“In much the same way as our era is filled with political zealots—as well as, to a certain degree, religious zealots—what you’ll find when you look closer is there’s a small number of very loud people who are dominating the discourse. And a lot of people are in the middle and would rather not have to take sides. Claudio, he seems to be monogamous, he seems to want to just live a very simple life, he’s not really concerned with theological things. And when pressed on theological things, his point is: ‘I don’t really know. No one really knows what happen when you die, so I’m scared.’”

Because religious extremism lies at the heart of the rhetorical warfare between Angelo and Isabella, I think there’s a misconception that M4M is a Play About Religion. But the ONLY characters who canonically go to the mat about the finer points of theology are…wait for it…Angelo and Isabella. This is an early modern text brimming with religious figures (Sister Francisca, Friar Thomas, Friar Peter, even the phony Friar Lodowick), but not a single one of them gets on the pulpit about ANYTHING in the course of the entire play. Sister Francisca’s role consists of bemusedly listening to her youthful novitiate describe her desire for stricter prohibitions at the cloister. Friar Thomas, a sycophantic priest whose parish coffers are probably lined with Vincentio’s gold, spends his one onstage scene nodding his head sympathetically as the Duke over-explains why he is disguising himself as a monk. Friar Peter, the poor Jesuit roped into delivering the Duke’s messages, forgoes moralizing and instead uses his limited dialogue to try to help two disenfranchised women receive justice for their abuse. And Friar Lodowick, of course, is nothing but an alias for a cowardly sociopath who wants to run the world without being held accountable for his mistakes. Nothing evangelical about any of that.

But Angelo and Isabella? They can’t shut up about religion.

Isabella wants Angelo to temper his punitive Weltanschauung with morality, ideology, Platonic ideals, metaphysics…in short, all of the intangibles that can’t be used as evidence in a court of law.

“Why, all the souls that were were forfeit onceAnd He that might the vantage best have tookFound out the remedy. How would you be,If He, which is the top of judgment, shouldBut judge you as you are? O, think on thatAnd mercy then will breathe within your lips,Like man new made.” (Isabella, II.ii.97-103)

Angelo, in turn, wants Isabella to recognize the futility of Catholicism as a proper tool for creating heaven on earth because Catholicism permits withdrawal from the world and the abdication of earthly responsibility (cf: nunnery). Instead, he argues, what God actually needs is for people to actively toil in their communities to criminalize, punish, and eradicate sin.

“I show [pity] most of all when I show justice,For then I pity those I do not know,Which a dismissed offense would after gall,And do him right that—answering one foul wrong—Lives not to act another.” (Angelo, II.ii.128-132)

They take up the two sides of a theological debate that predates Christianity: ethics vs. justice. And that conflict is itself inextricably tied to the timeless political debate of non-intervention vs. regulation. And the thing is: even when Angelo and Isabella realize the irreconcilability of their respective schools of thought, they KEEP ARGUING ABOUT IT because extremism is just that: extreme. Angelo and Isabella may be major players in M4M, but they represent the radical minority of their world. They are the “small group of very loud people” and literally everyone is a moderate next to them. Ideology, not desire, is the bedrock of their personhood. When confronted with a person of an uncompromisingly polar viewpoint, they behave as if it might be possible to change the viewpoint of that person because the alternative is to admit defeat. To tragic effect, they hold their ideals more sacred than human life. For Angelo, that ideal is the law (i.e. integrity of action). For Isabella, it’s chastity (i.e. integrity of the soul). They are dogmatic in their beliefs, inflexible in their opinions, and inalienably convinced of their own “rightness.” They are austere, incisive, independent, articulate, and sharp. They are disgusted by the depravity of the world around them and determined to transcend it. What differentiates them is the content of their convictions, but they rate the value of that conviction equally.

So, yes, M4M is a play acutely interested in how religion shapes the law and human behavior. But I would argue that it is really only about one thing: power.

Which brings me to rhetoric.

Angelo and Isabella are lawyers. Both of them. High-powered, quick-thinking, weakness-sniffing, self-righteous litigators. Sure, Isabella may not have the paperwork to prove it; she was conceived by an Englishman in the early 17th century. But much in the same way that it’s obvious to everyone with eyes that would-be nun Maria [von Trapp] is a born music teacher from the first scene of The Sound of Music, so is it evident from Isabella’s first moments onstage that she is a born lawyer. She was, quite simply, born to argue.

Consider her first scene onstage: in the nunnery, with Lucio and Francisca. Unlike the audience, Isabella doesn’t have empirical evidence of Lucio’s amorality and notorious womanizing. She doesn’t need it. She can smell it on him. And in six short lines, she wipes the mosaic-laced marble floor of the cathedral with his ass:

LUCIOCan you so stead meAs bring me to the sight of Isabella,A novice of this place and the fair sisterTo her unhappy brother, Claudio?

ISABELLAWhy her “unhappy brother”? Let me ask,The rather for I now must make you knowI am that Isabella, and his sister.

LUCIOGentle and fair, your brother kindly greets you.Not to be weary with you, he’s in prison.

ISABELLAWoe me, for what?

LUCIOFor that which, if myself might be his judge,He should receive his punishment in thanks:He hath got his friend with child.

ISABELLASir, make me not your story.

LUCIO‘Tis true.I would not, though ‘tis my familiar sinWith maids to seem the lapwing and to jest,Tongue far from heart, play with all virgins so.I hold you as a thing enskied and sainted,By your renouncement an immortal spiritAnd to be talked with in sincerityAs with a saint.

ISABELLAYou do blaspheme the good in mocking me.

(I.iv.18-40)

I’m not going to venture down the English professor’s rabbit hole of rhetorical devices and syntactical analysis—partly because there are thousands of scholars who have already done it better than I ever could (check out Claire McEachern and Julie Felise Dubiner!) and partly because I’ve been blathering for too long in general. But sufficed to say that three hallmarks of a good lawyer are as follows:

The ability to seize and repurpose the language of one’s opponent (“Why her ‘unhappy brother?’”)

The ability to spot and sidestep landmines (“Sir, make me not your story.”)

The ability to redirect conversation (“You do blaspheme.”)

By that metric alone, Isabella’s performance here is worthy of the Harvard Law Review.

And then, of course, two scenes later, she meets her match.

A dear friend of mine, who is a first-year at Georgetown Law and basically the smartest person I’ve ever met, once told me: “The best and worst thing that can happen to a good lawyer is to meet another good lawyer with different ideas.” I do apologize for invoking Sorkin twice in one essay, but honestly: “The President likes smart people who disagree with him” (Leo, The West Wing, 2x05). It is a truth universally acknowledged that however infuriating it is for a highly intelligent person to debate with an equally intelligent person who disagrees with everything they stand for, it can also be unbelievably stimulating and monumentally entertaining to watch. (Hello, 50 million seasons of Law & Order.)

I’m now two weeks deep into rehearsals for M4M and I still get gobsmacked, daily, by the sheer majesty of Angelo’s and Isabella’s rhetoric. Theirs goes so far beyond the mental agility of anyone else in this play, or even—dare I say it—in Shakespeare’s canon. They are beyond intelligent. They are freaky genius kids with the kind of sanctimonious stubbornness that would be obnoxious if it weren’t so damn compelling. Between the two of them, between their two infamous scenes, they pull out every rhetorical trick in the book and play approximately seventeen unique rounds of intellectual checkers. (I say checkers because chess is too slow for them. If you want chilly brinksmanship, check out the Roman plays. Angelo and Isabella have agendas and professional pride on the line. Time is of the essence.)

ISABELLAI do think that you might pardon him,And neither heaven nor man grieve at the mercy.

ANGELOI will not do it.

ISABELLABut can you, if you would?

ANGELOLook, what I cannot, that I will not do.

ISABELLABut might you do it, and do the world no wrongIf so your heart were touched with that remorseAs mine is to him?

ANGELOHe’s sentenced. ‘Tis too late.

ISABELLA“Too late”? Why, no. I, that do speak a word,Might call it back again.

(II.ii.67-78 [italics are mine])

Things get even more complicated when they start moving into those same theoretical marshes I described earlier:

“If he had been as you, and you as he,You would have slipped like him, but he like youWould not have been so stern.” (Isabella, II.ii.84-86)

“The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept.Those many had not dared to do that evilIf the first that did th’ edict infringeHad answered for his deed. Now ‘tis awake…” (Angelo, II.ii.117-120)

ENOUGH WITH THE METAPHORS ALREADY. CLAUDIO IS ON DEATH ROW.

And even when they finally, finally get to the point, they remain at an impasse:

ISABELLAYet show some pity.

ANGELOI show it most when I show justice.

(II.ii.127-128)

Which causes Isabella essentially to lose all sense of self-awareness and control because goddam it, never once in her entire life has she met a person she couldn’t out-argue, who the fuck does this deputy think he is, this was supposed to be a simple mission and she’s been standing in this room for ten minutes and he’s still siTTING THERE SMILING AT HER WHAT THE F—

“So you must be the first that gives this sentence,And he that suffers. O, it is excellentTo have a giant’s strength, but it is tyrannousTo use it like a giant[…]Could great men thunderAs Jove himself does, Jove would never be quiet,For every pelting, petty officerWould use his heaven for thunder,Nothing but thunder. Merciful heaven,Thou rather with thy sharp and sulfurous boltSplits the un-wedgeable and gnarlèd oakThan the soft myrtle. But man, proud man,Dressed in a little brief authority,Most ignorant of what he’s most assured,His glassy essence like an angry apePlays such fantastic tricks before high heavenAs makes the angels weep, who with our spleensWould all themselves laugh mortal.” (Isabella, II.ii.134-152)

Which causes ANGELO to lose all self-awareness and control because goddam it, never once in his entire life has he met a person he couldn’t out-argue, who the fuck does this nun think she is, this was supposed to be a simple smackdown and she’s been standing in this room for ten minutes and he’s still waiting for her to admit defeat and oh God oh no oh no oh no why can’t he look away from her face, what the fuck is happening what the F—

ANGELOWHY DO YOU PUT THESE SAYINGS UPON ME?

ISABELLABecause authority, though it err like others,Hath yet a kind of medicine in itselfThat skins the vice o’ th’ top. Go to your bosom,Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth knowThat’s like my brother’s fault. If it confessA natural guiltiness such as is his,Let it not sound a thought upon your tongueAgainst my brother’s life.

ANGELO, asideShe speaks and ‘tis such senseThat my sense breeds with it.

(II.ii.163-173)

Finally, Angelo gets her to leave and faces the music. My tremendous co-actor, Jude Van der Voorde, always slays this soliloquy.

“What’s this, what’s this? Is this her fault or mine?The tempter or the tempted, who sins most, ha?Not she; nor doth she tempt, but it is IThat, lying by the violet in the sun,Do as the carrion does, not as the flower,Corrupt with virtuous season.” (Angelo, II.iv.199-204)

[Non sequitur: Jude is the kind of actor actors dream of acting with. He’s always got at least one trick up his sleeve, so my Isabella is constantly second-guessing herself around him. And he does the “sleazy wunderkind act” with a panache rivaling BJ Novak’s in Season 4 of The Office. He’s also one of the funniest people I’ve ever met. Kids, don’t be Method. Make friends with your fellow actors. Leave the emotions onstage and go get a midnight pizza. You will be so much happier.]

With regards to the M4M narrative, we all know what happens next, although it takes an agonizing 175 lines of text in 2.4 before Shakespeare levels off and gives us the canonical threat:

“Redeem thy brotherBy yielding up thy body to my will,Or else he must not only die the death,But thy unkindness shall his death draw outTo lingering sufferance. Answer me tomorrowOr by the affection that now guides me mostI’ll prove a tyrant to him. As for you:Say what you can, my false o’erweighs your true.” (Angelo, II.iv.177-184)

What precedes this is the kind of tension-groaning, hair-splitting, goosebump-raising rhetorical tarantella that television writers today spend their entire careers trying to emulate. Isabella plays the fool for as long as she possibly can…

ANGELONay, but hear me.Your sense pursues not mine. Either you are ignorantOr seem so, crafty, and that’s not good.

ISABELLALet me be ignorant, and in nothing goodBut graciously to know I am no better.

(II.iv.79-83)

…but eventually Angelo forces her hand and she has to deflect his onslaught with the sleek diplomacy of a kidnapping victim.

ISABELLABetter it were a brother died at onceThan that a sister, by redeeming him,Should die forever.

ANGELOWere not you then as cruel as the sentenceThat you have slandered so?

ISABELLAIgnomy in ransom and free pardonAre of two houses. Lawful mercyIs nothing kin to foul redemption.

ANGELOYou seemed of late to make the law a tyrant,And rather proved the sliding of your brotherA merriment than a vice.

ISABELLAO, pardon me, my lord. It oft falls out,To have what we would have, we speak not what we mean.I something do excuse the thing I hateFor his advantage that I dearly love.

(II.iv.114-128)

Remember when I said that Angelo and Isabella are alike in that they are inalienably convinced of their own “rightness”? That still holds true. But now Angelo, without warning, has moved beyond the conceits of debate and is taking Isabella’s rhetorical arguments from 2.2 at literal face value in order to trip her up. He’s brought ideology crashing down to earth and introduced their physical relationship into the conversation…again, without warning and very much without her consent. And she has to figure out a way to back-peddle on her words without yielding defeat of the argument. It is nigh impossible. And I bring it up because guess who gets trapped in the exact same situation three short acts later?

LUCIOCome, sir; come, sir; come, sir; foh, sir! Why, you bald-pated, lying rascal, you must be hooded, must you? Show your knave’s visage, with a pox to you! Show your sheep-biting face, and be hanged an hour! Will ‘t not off?

(LUCIO pulls off the friar’s hood and reveals the DUKE.)

DUKEThou art the first knave that e’er made’st a duke.—First, Provost, let me bail these gentle three.—Sneak not away, sir, for the friar and youMust have a word anon.—Lay hold on him.

LUCIOThis may prove worse than hanging.

DUKEWhat you have spoke I pardon. Sit you down.We’ll borrow place of him. (to Angelo)Sir, by your leave.Hast thou or word, or wit, or impudenceThat yet can do thee office? If thou hast,Rely upon it till my tale be heardAnd hold no longer out.

ANGELOO my dread lord,I should be guiltier than my guiltinessTo think I can be undiscernible,When I perceive your Grace, like power divine,Hath looked upon my passes. (V.i.395-421)

Game, set, match.

As for ego… Do I really need to talk about professional pride? I don’t think so. It’s Angelo and Isabella. Pride leaks out of every virtually every line they speak in this play. Pride in their conviction, pride in their moral righteousness, pride in their intellect, pride in their ability to judge the world with clarity (or whatever). Angelo actually admits it out loud to us in perhaps his most famous soliloquy, because the little fucker has a lot more Catholic guilt about lusting after a novitiate nun than his Protestant heart would like to admit:

“The state whereon I studiedIs, like a good thing being often read,Grown sere and tedious. Yea, my gravity,Wherein—let no man hear me—I take pride,Could I with boot change for an idle plumeWhich the air beats for vain.” (Angelo, II.iv.7-15)

And even though Isabella could easily be the poster child for Christian piety, she’s so damn proud of her own humility that she occasionally threatens to void it altogether.

ANGELOWhat would you do?

ISABELLAAs much for my poor brother as myself.That is, were I under the terms of death,Th’ impression of keen whips I’d wear as rubiesAnd strip myself to death as to a bedThat longing have been sick for, ere I’d yieldMy body up to shame.

(II.iv.107-111)

Look at me, Angelo. Look at this body. It’s mine. Mine and God’s. I see what you’re doing, I know where you’re trying to go. And it is never. going. to happen.

Two weeks into rehearsal and I’m still not sure I’m convincing in my delivery of these lines. I’ve watched every filmed production of M4M I can get my hands on, and it’s no help. I just don’t know what to make of this. Scholars disagree virulently about these lines, but also…scholars aren’t actors, you know? I find myself questioning everything every time I get to this passage. Is Isabella actually a virgin? I’m not sure. Chastity and virginity aren’t actually the same thing and Isabella, for all her idealism, is more worldly than many of her ingenue brethren. One thing is for sure: she’s flushed with self-righteousness when she speaks these words. Angelo may be a haughty son of a bitch, but so is she, so is she, so is she.

Ugh, these characters. I love them so much. I hate Angelo, I do. I also love him. And God help me I love Isabella. They’re dumpster fires of human conviction and I’m so grateful to Shakespeare for giving us their story and for understanding four hundred fucking years ago, that this, THIS is the pinnacle of hell in the female experience: “Who would believe thee, Isabel?”

#MeToo

Thank you, Will. Thank you.

I feel like I should apologize for the length of this reply, but I’ve had so much freaking fun that I also don’t feel apologetic. Thank you for this amazing question! Hope you’re doing well! xx Claire

Tagging @malvoliowithin @measureformeasure @harry-leroy @suits-of-woe

#measure for measure #m4m 2019

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too-many-baes · 5 years

Text

Halves

Pairing: Fem!reader x Sam Winchester

Warning(s): Angst

Word Count: 1.4K

Original imagine: [x] & if you haven’t already you should check out @spn-imagines-nation

Summary: Y/N gets an unexpected call from her ex Sam Winchester

A/N: I changed the dialogue from the original imagine in this just slightly to make it work. My requests are open! I feel like all I have ideas for is angst all day everyday, so send in your requests so I can write about something different.

***********

You sat in a relatively quiet bar enjoying a drink and a catch up with your best friend. It was very rare in your hectic life as a hunter that you got to have these moments, so you relished in it while you could, enjoying the soft country music and catching each other up on your lives. You barely got to see Claire any more so when you had been passing by her town you decided to pay a visit and get to spend some uninterrupted time with her.

Well you had planned on it being uninterrupted, but your phone buzzing loudly on the bar for the third time in thirty minutes shattered those plans.

“Damn, someone really wants to get a hold of you. Who is it?” You had planned on ignoring it and letting the call ring out but Claire’s question prompted your curiosity to get the better of you. With Claire leaning over your shoulder you picked up the phone to see ‘Sam. W’ in bold letters on your screen.

“Sam? As in your ex Sam?” You nod bewildered. “You’re not going to answer it are you?” Claire accusatorily asks. You grimace knowing that he wouldn’t be calling unless it was important. You apologise to your friend before stepping outside away from prying ears.

“Hello?”

“Uh, hey Y/N, it’s Sam here…” he says before adding “Winchester that is”, awkwardly at the end of his sentence.

“I know Sam, caller ID and all.”

“Yeah yeah of course.”

“So, why are you calling, I assume there’s a reason?” Your sentence came out far ruder than you intended after waiting for him to speak for far too long. Sam audibly took a large breath before explaining that they were tracking a werewolf that he was certain you’d tried to hunt earlier in the year. He wanted you to come and look at the case as if it was the same werewolf, he and Dean could really use your help dealing with it.

“You know I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t urgent,” he said in conclusion. You huffed before speaking.

“I’ll come have a look, no promises I’ll stick around. How soon do you need me?”

“How soon can you get to Salem?”

Much to Claire’s chagrin, you were forced to cut your evening short so you could hit the road. If this was that same werewolf that evaded you all those months ago then you didn’t want to waste any time. Luckily for all parties involved Claire didn’t live unreasonably far from Salem so you managed to get to the dingy motel they were staying at by morning, allowing yourself to get a couple of hours sleep in your car halfway through the night.

You knocked on door 176 and when it opened you were greeted by the other Winchester.

“Heya Dean”, you offered as a greeting.

“It’s good to see ya kid”, he said with a smile, stepping aside and letting you enter the otherwise vacant room. Your quizzical gaze didn’t go unnoticed.

“He’s gone to get breakfast”, his words answering your unasked question. You let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. You hadn’t known how anxious you were to see Sam after the way you had left things until that moment.

Dean took the opportunity to fill you in on the case, leaving no doubt that it was the all too familiar werewolf.

The door suddenly opened and Sam rather unceremoniously staggered in, juggling a tray of drinks and bags of diner food.

“Sorry, they were pretty busy. Also they were totally out of pie so I got you- Y/N.” He cut his sentence short when he looked up and saw you were there.

“Hey Sam”, you reply. Looking up at his face you find his eyes stuck on you. Those tranquil orbs take you back, the goods times you’d shared swimming through your mind. Stolen kisses, inside jokes and times you felt invincible with him by your side all invaded your head. You almost smiled at the memories, instead you forced the urge away. No matter all the soft touches and ‘I love you’s’ that lay before you in his eyes, you forcibly recall the reasons your year-long relationship had ended. You make yourself remember the arguments and tears, the yelling and nights spent with nothing but you and an empty bed.

Sam is a great guy, you wouldn’t have fallen in love with him if he wasn’t. Your relationship had started like any other, the honeymoon period feeling as though it would never end. Of course it did, and when it had it felt like you were only getting halves. It didn’t feel like he was fully in your relationship, his mind and attention always drifting. Drifting to his latest case, to how to help his brother or Cas, even to his research. Eventually you’d had enough of nights with a cold side of the bed and feeling as though you were only getting half a person and half a relationship.

The night you broke up you told him you needed wholes, not halves. There was yelling from him, an inability to listen to your words meaning and then a slammed door and tear-filled eyes accompanied by white knuckles on a steering wheel signified the end.

That was months ago, yet somehow standing before him and looking into his eyes it felt as though you had lived through that year all over again.

“Okay, well I’m going to find somewhere that does have pie.” Neither you nor Sam had noticed how stifling the silence had been before Dean had spoken. You had just a moment to regain some composure as Dean grabbed his keys and exited the room. The suffocating silence once more settled over the two of you. Both of you were reluctant to meet each other’s gaze again, afraid of what other memories could be revealed within them. You gathered your nerve and cleared your throat.

“So it’s definitely the same one”, you said, inclining your head towards the research on the table. He hummed in response, placing the food on the kitchen bench before heading over to where you sat so he could peer over your shoulder.

“I thought so. Same targets, same M.O. It was too much of a coincidence.” The words you were exchanging felt so arbitrary and useless. So many other words sat unsaid on your tongue. What words could you even say to the man leaning over your shoulder? That you missed him? That you couldn’t stop thinking about him? That you still hadn’t forgiven him? Most of all, say you wished he’d been able to apologise? No. It was better for you both to swallow those words so only you knew they had been dancing on your vocal cords.

You stood up abruptly, wiping your hands on your legs to try and dispel how clammy they had become.

“Thank you Y/N, for coming to have a look”, Sam said to fill the awkward silence. You lightly snorted in response.

“Don’t thank me yet, we still have to find this thing.”

“Are you saying you’ll stay to help me deal with it?” He looked hopeful, the glimmer in his eyes doing nothing to help keep happy memories from resurfacing. You were forced to once again remind yourself that the bad had outweighed the good.

“That’s what I’m saying”, you say getting more irritated as your sentence continues, “what kind of person do you think I am? I don’t do things by halves.” You opened the door but you turned around to see if your words had their desired effect, seeing an almost guilty expression on his face.

“I deserved that one”, he said with a small nod. You bit your tongue nervously before letting out a drawn-out sigh.

“Damn right you did.” You shut the door without looking behind you, somehow maintaining a normal heartbeat before unpacking your car into one of the dingy rooms at the same motel.

Sam seemed different, you couldn’t help but think as you flopped down onto the double bed. The man you had broken up with was stubborn and unable to accept responsibility for his part in the breakdown of your relationship. The man in front of you moments ago though? He seemed regretful, guilty. Is it possible he’d changed? And if he had, was there another chance for you two? You shook your head. That is not why you drove through the night to get to this shitty motel. You had to stay focused on one thing; finally killing that son of a bitch of a werewolf. You told yourself this over and over.

Yes, that was your sole purpose in coming. A stray thought betrayed your mantra, because you knew it wasn’t true. It wasn’t the only reason you were here, not truly.

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mischiefmakingmuses · 4 years

Text

LD:AU {Ch1} - Spirits Awoken

Sherise watched the clock on the wall tick by slowly. One minute, thirty-five seconds. One minute, thirty-four seconds. Every time the second hand moved, she felt her excitement level rising. It was Halloween, and once school was out, she’d make preparations for that party she’d been waiting all month for.

“Sherrie, can you calm down a bit...? You look like you’ll bolt out the door the instant the bell rings...” Yenten, her best friend, sighed. “You’re making me a little anxious, not gonna lie.”

“I can’t help it, Ten, tonight’s gonna be absolutely stellar!” Sherise balled her fists. “I’m gonna get ready for the best night of the year, in forty-two seconds...forty-one seconds...”

“Cripes, don’t starting counting the seconds!” Yenten uttered.

The teacher continued to prattle on with her lesson as the countdown continued. And finally...three seconds...two seconds...one second...!

Brrrrriiiing!

“ALL RIGHT!” Sherise shot up from her chair like a rocket. Everyone just stared at her, even the teacher. After an awkward silence, she slowly picked up her bag and books. “...sorry.”

“Hmmph. Someone’s in a hurry,” local rich girl Gess huffed. Sherise just glared at her, which didn’t faze her in the slightest. In fact, she just got a shit-eating grin on her face. “Oh, by the way! Ms. Green! Didn’t you say there’s an assignment we have to do over the weekend?”

“Oh! Indeed there is! Thank you for reminding me, Gess!” Ms. Green clapped her hands together. The entire class groaned, especially Sherise who immediately sank back into her chair.

“You totally did that on purpose,” she hissed.

“Whatever do you mean?” Gess asked, trying to play dumb. “I just didn’t want Ms. Green to forget about our important assignment due on Monday!”

“Remember, class! Your assignment for this weekend is a five page essay on any myths or legends of Feridae of your choosing! That’ll be all! Dismissed!”

~*~★~♥~★~*~

“Y’know, I really hate Gess sometimes,” Sherise grumbled. “Who wants to write an essay on ghosts and myths? That stuff isn’t real!”

“Well...I mean...I guess you can’t really prove whether it’s real or not...” Yenten nervously quipped. “But...you don’t think it’s interesting at all? I think it’s pretty cool!”

“It just doesn’t feel logical to me! A lot of the legends don’t make se--oh, cripes, look who it is.”

Sherise and Yenten stopped walking as they were approached by Gess.

“What do you want, Gess?” Sherise asked bitterly. “You trying to ruin the rest of my day or something?”

“Oh, I just couldn’t help but overhear how someone like you, a total Halloween nut, can possibly not enjoy the rich lore of our world!” Gess did a noblewoman’s laugh. “Maybe instead of prepping for some dumb Halloween party...”

“Hey!!” Sherise interjected. Gess continued.

“...you should go check out that haunted mansion at the end of Drawn & Quarterly? Prove that the legends are such rubbish like you say they are...! Or are you too scared?!”

“I’m not scared!” Sherise cried out, throwing her hands up. “It’s just illogical to me!”

The two parties began to bicker, as a strange boy in a mask approached them.

“Oh...hello...sorry...did I hear...you talk about the mansion at Drawn & Quarterly...?” he interrupted.

“OK, two things. One, who the hell are you? Two, yeah, what of it?” Sherise placed her hands on her hips.

“Oh...hehehe...my name is Desley...and I’m just interested...you want to go to that mansion...? I hear...there’s a room with a singular burning candle...out of 100 total...it’s said that the previous visitors played a game of Hyakumonogatari Kaidankai...but got too scared and didn’t finish...they say that if you put the candle out...a monster will appear...” Desley slowly brought his hand up to the mouth on his mask and giggled softly. “Maybe it’s real...but maybe not...”

“Even better!” Gess cried out. She pointed at Sherise and Yenten. “Alright! If you go and put that candle out...I’ll do your homework for a week!”

“Deal!” Sherise wasted no time accepting the bet. She grabbed Yenten’s hand. “C’mon, Ten! We’re going!”

“W-wait, why am I getting involved in this?!” the boy called out as his friend dragged him behind her.

“Ah...there they go. Hehehe...” Desley slowly started shuffling in the direction the duo went off in. He turned to look at Gess. “I hope you’re ready...to uphold your promise. Hehehe...maybe you shouldn’t be so much of a bully...I could’ve easily given this offer to you...”

“Excuse me?!” Gess snapped. “What did you call me?! Get back here, you little masked gremlin!”

“...oh...you should be happy my friends...weren’t around to hear that...but...I feel like you won’t be able to evade their detection forever...hehehe...”

“Hey! Are you threatening me?! Look at me when I’m talking to you!”

“Haaa... Auf Wiedersehen...” Desley continued on his route without looking at the girl screeching behind him.

~*~★~♥~★~*~

“I heard that the monster that shows up at the end of a game of Hyakumonogatari Kaidankai is called ‘aoandon’,” Yenten explained as he kicked a rock along the sidewalk. “But usually, people don’t finish the game because the atmosphere grips them with fear and they give up before telling the hundredth story.”

“But...aoandon can’t be real. Can they? So that means that they get so close to their goal and they just, stop? What a load of bunk,” Sherise scoffed.

“Maybe you should keep a lid on your skepticism until we’re done...”

They stopped in front of the old mansion at Drawn & Quarterly. As expected, it was dilapidated and looked like no one had even so much as opened the door for decades. Yenten gulped.

“Sherrie...are we really doing this?” he whimpered. Sherise harrumphed.

“Yeah, of course we are! Don’t you wanna stick it to Gess for once? Look, all we gotta do is go inside, find the candle, put it out, and bam! We’ll be done, Gess’ll do my homework for a week, and we can get to the party in time!” Sherise saw no issues with this plan.

“OK, OK...let’s just get this over with...”

The duo stepped onto the pathway towards the decrepit and rotted front door. There was a lock on it...Sherise gently held it up to inspect it, only for the lock to detach from the door completely. Startled, she yelped and dropped the lock, which fell to the floor and shattered into pieces. She glanced over at Yenten, who merely shrugged.

Going inside, the entire mansion was covered in dust and cobwebs, and the air was musty and hard to breathe. Sherise found herself lifting the collar of her shirt over her nose just to stop herself from getting a lungful of rotten wood particles.

“Yuck. This really is the funk of forty thousand years, isn’t it?” she groaned. Taking a step forward, the floorboards made a creak so loud it could wake the dead. The girl facepalmed. “I feel like the mansion is going to disintegrate if we so much as breathe.”

“You wanna stick it to the people who didn’t finish their games of Hyakumonogatari Kaidankai or not, Sherrie?” Yenten muttered passive aggressively. “Don’t get cold feet now.”

“Alright, alright...sheesh...”

The floorboards continued to creak unceremoniously as the two students made their way through the mansion, the cacophony enough to drive even the most holy of saints crazy. And, unfortunately, their search lasted for a good half hour or so, seeing as there were many, many rooms to check and not a candle in sight.

“I’m getting really tired of this,” Sherise wheezed. “Where’s this room at?”

“I can help you with that.”

Sherise cried out in shock and ended up falling into Yenten in her panic, sending both of them to the floor. After regaining their composure, they noticed that the voice belonged to Desley, the strange boy from earlier.

“Desley? Where did you come from?” Yenten asked, coughing out dust that flew into his mouth. “And how didn’t we hear you coming?!”

“The floorboards were too loud...” Desley murmured. Waving his hands in front of him, he giggled. “It looks like you two are kinda, lost, though...so I decided to help. By any chance, did you think to check the basement...?”

“B...basement?” Sherise uttered.

“Yup...if you’ll get up and follow me, I’ll take you there...hehe...”

“OK, then...” Sherise picked herself up and dusted off her pants before offering Yenten her hand. “Sorry about that, Ten...”

“I-it’s OK...” the boy responded, blushing. He took her hand and Sherise yanked him up. The duo looked over at Desley, who nodded and began to walk off. Admittedly, his steps were meticulous and light, making much less noise than they had been earlier.

In only a matter of minutes, the masked boy led the two to a staircase leading down. At the very bottom of the stairs, a very faint, blue light could be seen.

“Watch your step...”

The trio carefully made their way down the stairs, taking care not to slip and fall in the dark. Upon reaching the ground, Desley walked off towards a room with its door slightly ajar; from here, the light was more visible. Sherise gently opened the door a bit more, letting herself into the room, with Yenten following behind her.

The room was filled wall to wall with a hundred candles, some more melted than others, and all but one extinguished. The lone flame flickered in the middle of the dozens of candles, seeming a bit forlorn in a way.

“There really was a lit candle...” Sherise gasped. Slowly, carefully, she made her way to the candle. Nearby, there was a candle extinguisher. Sherise took it in her hand, and steadily moved forward to extinguish the candle. However, she felt her arm being grabbed from behind.

“Just a second, you two...” It was Desley. He looked at both Sherise and Yenten before digging around in his pocket and pulling something out. In his hand were two gemstones. They were clear and colorless. “Here. These are for you.”

“What are they?” Yenten asked. He gingerly took one of the gemstones, only to cry out a bit. He’d cut himself on it. “Oh, no, I’m bleeding!”

“I am, too!” Sherise whimpered. The two looked at their gemstones. Their blood was drawn into the middle of the stones, which then formed a heart inside. Upon further inspection, the edges had smoothed out, making another cut impossible. “What...just happened?”

“Those...are Reversal Shards. You’ll need to take care of them from now on...and they won’t work for anyone other than you...now...you can extinguish the candle...and end this game of Hyakumonogatari Kaidankai.” Desley gestured to the lit candle.

Sherise was still curious, but did as she was told. Taking a deep breath, she topped the candle with the extinguisher, the flame going out with a soft fizzling sound. The room became entirely dark, and all was silent.

“...that’s all?” Sherise asked, pouting. “All this build-up and nothing ha--”

Before she could finish, all the candles lit themselves with bright blue flames. The flames danced off their wicks and joined together in the middle, causing Sherise to back up hastily, nearly knocking down Desley in the process. The flames grew larger and larger, swirling in the middle of it all.

“W-what’s going on?!” Sherise shrieked.

“You just summoned the aoandon, that’s what!” Yenten yelled in response, voice shaking.

The flames began to contort in shape, forming a figure within. First, a moderately sized glass and metal lantern appeared, containing a small flame inside. The rest of the fire burned away, revealing a flat creature wearing blue clothes. It was mostly white, with many blue stripes running down its body. As the last of the flames went out, the creature’s tail tightly wrapped around the handle of the lantern. It floated in place, seemingly asleep.

“Is...is that...” Yenten stuttered.

“The aoandon?” Sherise questioned.

As if activated, the aoandon stretched itself out and yawned. It shook itself, small puffs of blue ash swirling around in the air in small clouds. Finally, it opened its eyes.

“Ahhh...that was such a nice nap!” The aoandon shook itself again and stretched itself out to full length, its tail never letting go of the lantern. “Hmm? Hiya! Who’re you guys?”

“U-uh...I-I’m Sherise...and this is Ten--I mean, Yenten.” Sherise said, gesturing to her friend. Yenten merely gave an awkward wave.

“I see, I see! A pleasure to meet you both! I’m Sunny!” The aoandon held out a hand for the kids to shake. Not wanting to leave him hanging, both Sherise and Yenten shook his hand once. “Sew, I’m guessin’ you’re the reason I got woken up?”

“I...I guess so...” Sherise nervously answered. She fiddled with her fingers before speaking up again. “Hey, Sunny...are you really an aoandon?”

“Yup! But only on my father’s side! My mother is an ittan-momen, don’chino? I think I really take after her!” Sunny did a little pose to accentuate the statement. Both Yenten and Sherise were sweating nervously.

“Yes, actually, about that, Sunny...” Desley spoke up. “Your parents were the ones who asked me to find you. They’d noticed you stopped writing letters for a while...and thought something happened to you.”

“Oh, is that sew? Thanks for updatin’ me on the stitch-uation!” Sunny flew up very close to Desley. So close, you’d expect the boy to flinch--but he remained completely unfazed. “Though, I don’t think I know ya. Who are you?”

“My name is Desley...and it’s true, you were gone long before I was even born...I guess you could say I’m a bit of an intermediary...between the Wayside and the Trueside.”

“Hey, Desley? This is great and all, but...why did you get us involved? A-and I thought...if aoandon were really real, wouldn’t they be a lot scarier? I mean, there has to be a reason why people don’t finish their games of Hyakumonogatari Kaidankai! But look at Sunny! He’s positively adorable!” Sherise thrust her hand out, gesturing at Sunny.

“Aww, why thank ya!” Sunny chirped, blushing. “Buuuut, just the same as how not all humans are alike, not all monsters are alike, don’chino? Sure, there’s monsters and stuff who’re a real thread, but I’d like ta think a lot of us are lovely individuals.”

“In fact...it might be good for you to know that most of the figures in the myths and legends you find so illogical, Sherise...” Desley pushed up on his mask. “...are just trying to live their lives the same as humans are.

“But, they are quite often misunderstood...so most of them are invisible to humans as a means of defense...the only way to see them...is by forming a blood bond with a Reversal Shard...”

“Reversal Shard...like the ones you gave us?” Yenten asked. He’d already forgotten about the gemstones Desley had given them. He moved his fingers slightly to feel the Reversal Shard still in his hand.

“That’s right...” Desley leaned to the side and tapped his fingers. “As for why I got you involved...to tell you the truth...you just happened to be in the right place at the right time...I was already on my way to this mansion when I overheard your conversation. The thing is...aoandon are often spirited away from their homes in the Trueside when humans play Hyakumonogatari Kaidankai...but since they have a propensity to give up before telling the last story, the aoandon end up stuck between this world and the next...like Sunny here.”

“I see...but we put out the last candle, so he’s free now. So, job well done?” Sherise clapped her hands together. “Also...I guess we can just see ghosts now...?”

“Yup. Now then...it’s probably time I take Sunny home.” Desley gestured to Sunny to follow and he slowly began to walk off. However, he ended up turning around. “Although...since you two have formed blood bonds...and have Reversal Shards...you could help me escort Sunny home...and see the Trueside...what do you say?”

“Hmm...what do you think, Sherrie?” Yenten looked at his friend expectantly. She hummed and began to think, but was immediately interrupted by Sunny getting up in her face.

“Hey! Not ta influence yer decision, but I wooled really appreciate knit if ya came with us! Knit’s not often I make new friends...!” The ao-momen looked at her with pleading eyes, clasping his hands together. “Pleeeeease! Tonight’s also Halloween, wool all have a party! Knit’ll be a scrim!”

Sherise simply stared at the specter. Those big, sad eyes of his were absolutely adorable, but also, the cloth puns were getting a little out of hand. Part of her wanted to go solely to see how much longer Sunny could keep it up. She sighed and closed her eyes.

“There was a party I wanted to go to tonight...” Upon hearing that, Sunny’s expression fell. “But...I honestly think I’d have more fun seeing real monsters for once!”

“Yeeeeessss!” Sunny cheered. He flew about the room, zipping here and there with pure joy. He stopped in front of Sherise, positively beaming. “Then knit’s settled! We’re gonna have a party, all night long! With new friends! C’mon! I’ll race ya there!”

Sunny took off like a rocket out of the room, up the stairs, and outside of the mansion. Meanwhile, Gess had shown up with her posse, consisting of Emrit and Meryl.

“Hey, Gess...do you really think Sherise and Yenten went inside?” Meryl asked, looking exasperated. “It feels like we’ve been here forever, and I still don’t see them!”

“Oh, you know Sherise. She probably bit off more than she could chew, again,” Gess waved her hand dismissively. “Any second now, they’ll come out all wide-eyed because they saw a spider or something.”

Right at that second, Sunny came barreling out of the front door. However, since he was mostly invisible to Gess and the others, all that they could see was a ghostly blue flame charging out towards them.

“Wh-what is that?!” Emrit screamed. He jolted up from his spot and staggered backwards, nearly tripping and crashing back down to the ground.

“That’s it, I’m outta here!” Meryl squealed. Both she and Emrit dashed down out of the yard and into the street, leaving Gess all by herself.

“H-hey wait! Get back here, you cowards!” As the trio ran off screaming, Sherise and her friends just made it out the door.

“...was that Gess?” she asked.

“Looks like Sunny gave them a run for their money,” Yenten chuckled. Sherise grinned broadly and let out a triumphant laugh.

“Thanks, Sunny! Now I don’t gotta do my homework for a week!”

“Ehhh? What’s ‘homework’?” the ao-momen asked, flying over his new friends’ heads excitedly. “Aren’t we gonna party?”

“Yeah! Let’s get this show on the road!” Sherise cried out, pumping her fist in the air.

And so, Sherise and Yenten made their way to the Trueside. Of course, this was only the first adventure of many to come...

#lasting desires another unity #extremely long; sorry #a halloween to remember

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rainbow-sides · 6 years

Text

Anomalies: Chapter Four

Summary: Anomalies is about different reactions to grief and how four brothers each respond to the death of their mother. The oldest brother, Roman, gets custody of the twins, Patton and Virgil, and the youngest brother, Logan, after their mother`s death. Virgil is also trying to navigate through a multitude of anxiety disorders, including OCD and trichotillomania, with the help of his brothers and his therapist, Dr. Picani. But meanwhile, Roman isn`t sure he can handle the responsibility of taking care of his brothers, Logan doesn`t process loss in a way most people can understand, and Patton isn`t nearly as okay as he seems…

Warnings: Death of a parent, grief, anxiety, trichotillomania, panic attacks, obsessive thought spirals, dissociation, OCD, some swearing, mentions of terminal illness (leukemia), thoughts about death, self-hatred, self-depreciation. For a list of the content warnings for the whole story as well as more information, please see this post. Please heed the warnings and stay safe.

Word Count: 1,808

Notes:

Masterpost to All Chapters

The next Friday, he walked out of Dr. Picani’s office with diagnoses of OCD, trich, and a panic disorder. He managed to hold it together until he got into the car, and then started to cry. Patton, who had come with him again, slid over into the middle seat so he could do both of their seatbelts and then put his arms around his twin.

“This is a good thing,” their mother said as she drove out of the parking garage. “Now that we know why you’re feeling this way, we can work on making it better. Are you okay with Dr. Picani, or do you want to find a different doctor?”

“I’d rather stay with him,” Virgil replied, trying to keep his breathing under control with the exercise that the therapist had taught him. “He--he’s good, I like him.”

“Is he helping?”

“Uh-huh.” Virgil nodded, putting his head down on Patton’s shoulder with a sniffle. “I mean--I don’t know how much anyone can actually help, but...if anyone can, I think it might be him.”

And over the next six months, things did improve. A lot. Virgil actually managed to get the trich under control, and he was passing out from panic attacks a lot less. After a few weeks, he didn’t have anxiety attacks about going to see Dr. Picani anymore. He actually found himself looking forward to it, which really surprised him. He could laugh at the therapist’s slightly ridiculous, over the top cartoon comparisons one minute and then talk to him about the deeply rooted obsessive rituals that he had never told anyone else about the next minute. Some of his eyelashes even started to grow back.

Then their mother had been diagnosed with leukemia, and all of the progress flew out the window.

The night after the confirmed diagnosis was told to him, he found himself in front of the bathroom mirror. He could barely remember doing it, he must have dissociated, but pretty much all of his eyelashes were gone again, and most of one eyebrow. As soon as he realized what he had done, he burst into tears and collapsed onto the bathroom floor with a thud, smacking his arm against the cabinet.

A few seconds later, someone was knocking at the door. “Virgil! Virgil, what was that sound? Virgil, are you crying? Open the door, please, let me come in,” Roman pleaded.

Footsteps, and then Patton’s voice joined him. “Virge?” he said, sounding frightened. “Virge, are you okay? Answer me!”

Shaking so hard he could barely get his hands to cooperate, he reached up and unlocked the door. It flew open.

“Oh, Virgil, honey!” Roman exclaimed. “Oh…”

Patton dropped down in front of him and grabbed his hands. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” he said. “What happened? Did you fall? Are you hurt?”

Virgil shook his head. Sobbing, he tried to explain that he had relapsed with the trich. Knowing that he wasn’t making much sense and finding it difficult to put words in any sort of coherent order, he wiped away his eye makeup roughly with the back of his hand.

Patton gasped sharply. “Oh! Oh, Virgil...oh, you should have told me it was bad again.”

“I was doing so good,” Virgil sobbed. “I w-was doing so good, I d-don’t understand, I was t-trying s-so hard! And n-now I f-fucked it all up, I c-can’t...I’m a f-failure, m-mom’s gonna be s-so disappointed, and so is Dr. Picani…” He hit the floor with his fist, wincing at the pain.

Roman nudged Patton aside, saying, “Virgil, let’s get you out of the bathroom. Come here, it’s okay, we’ve got you.” He hesitated for a second, then just scooped the crying Virgil up into his arms and carried him down the hall into the nearest bedroom, Patton’s. He set him down on the bed.

“I’m a failure,” Virgil whimpered again. “And m-mom’s gonna see when she g-gets home from her appointment, and I’m g-gonna have to t-tell Dr. Picani that I fucked up, and I’m so stupid, I hate myself for fucking this up, I--”

For once, Patton didn’t tell him off for swearing. He held Virgil’s hands as tightly as he could. “You’re not a failure,” he said sternly. “Listen to me, Virgil. The...the news we got yesterday, it’s messing with all of us. Logan hasn’t said a word all day, I...I can barely stop crying.” And indeed, there were tears dripping down his cheeks. “It’s scary, Virgil, and Dr. Picani told you that it gets worse when you’re scared or stressed. Remember?”

“Uh-huh,” Virgil managed. “But still--”

“No, no ‘but still’. You aren’t allowed to hate yourself because of this, Virgil. We won’t let you.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled Virgil into his arms. “Nobody is disappointed in you,” he murmured. “Nobody is going to blame you.”

Probably drawn by the noise, Logan nudged his way into the room. He gazed at his brothers, wide-eyed.

“Hey, kiddo,” Patton said. “What's up?”

Logan gestured at Virgil and tilted his head.

“He's...he's gonna be okay,” Patton said.

Logan narrowed his eyes and left the room, walking with purpose.

The phone rang suddenly. Roman groaned. “I'll go get it. You got him?”

“I've got him,” Patton confirmed.

Roman ruffled Virgil’s hair as he rushed off to get the phone.

“Pat?” Virgil said in a tiny voice.

“Yeah?”

“I'm really scared.”

“Me, too.” Pat gave him a squeeze. “Me, too.”

Logan came back into the room and held out one of his koosh-balls. It was pale pink, and a little smaller than the blue one he had given Virgil a while ago.

Virgil smiled through his tears and took the toy. “Oh, Lo...thanks.”

The quiet 12-year old hopped up onto the bed, his legs dangling over the side. “The five year survival rate for leukemia is 63% and rising with advancements in treatment,” he said, the first words he had spoken all day. “The probability is on our side for a good outcome.”

“That...that helps, Logan,” Patton said sincerely. “Are you doing okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Roman walked back through the door, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “That was Mom. She wants us to know that they’re doing more tests, and it might be a while, so don’t wait for her to come home to go to sleep. She says she loves us all, and that she’s really proud of us for being so strong.”

Virgil’s lower lip trembled. He hadn’t been strong.

“I’m really tired,” Patton said, squeezing Virgil’s hand. “Can...can we all stay here tonight?”

“Sure,” Roman agreed. “Let’s all get pajamas. Lo, do you want me to read the next chapter in the book for you?” Logan was, of course, more than capable of reading even very advanced books by himself. However, he also liked being read to, and Roman was always more than happy to oblige, especially if it meant that he got to do character voices. He had just finished reading Logan The Hobbit, and was beginning The Lord of the Rings. Logan had immediately pointed out the flaw in logic with the plot hole that ‘the eagles could have just flown them to Orodruin’. Roman had decided to engage in a debate about realism vs fantasy and plot devices, which was one of the very few topics he had a fighting chance of winning against Logan in. He actually managed to get Logan to suspend disbelief, and now the kid was just really enjoying the novel.

“Yes, please,” Logan said. “If Patton and Virgil are okay with it?”

“I’m definitely gonna fall asleep halfway through the chapter, but sure,” Patton answered.

Virgil nodded his agreement.

Logan and Roman went off to get ready for bed, and the twins got changed in Patton’s room. They went to the bathroom to brush their teeth, Virgil avoiding looking in the mirror at all costs. Then they went back to Patton’s room and settled down on the side of the double bed that was against the wall. Patton reluctantly moved some of his many pillows and stuffed animals on his bed to the top of his dresser.

“Surely you don’t need that many pillows,” Virgil said. “And you’ve got, like, fifteen plushies there.”

“Eighteen, and I love each and every one them,” Patton retorted. “And hey, you like sleeping on a tiny twin bed with about a hundred pounds of blanket on top of you even though Mom offered you a double bed as well. I don’t cast judgement on how you choose to sleep.”

“Whatever,” Virgil said. He had slid down underneath the covers, facing the wall. He was still holding the pink koosh-ball from Logan.

Patton plunked down next to him. “So...how are you doing?” he asked seriously.

Virgil laughed humorlessly. “Well, I’m all out of tears. Is that good or bad?”

“Ohhh…” Patton nestled up against him, sighing. “Virge.”

“No, I…” Even though his eyes were dry, there was a lump in his throat that was difficult to speak around. “Pat, I went almost a month without pulling at all. And then I just completely ruined it. And I hate that that’s what I’m focusing on, and not the fact that our mother has cancer. I just feel like...like I’m a horrible person.”

Patton let out a sound of discontent and wrapped his arms around Virgil’s waist from behind. “You’re not a horrible person.”

“Then why am I crying about my stupid eyelashes instead of our sick mom?” Virgil muttered.

“I don’t have the energy to fight you right now,” Patton said tiredly. “So I’m just gonna hold you instead.”

Virgil exhaled softly. “I appreciate that. I don’t want to fight you, either.”

“Good,” Patton mumbled into his shoulder.

By the time that Roman and Logan returned, the twins were both nearly asleep. Roman got through about five pages before Logan was out as well. The oldest brother put the book on Patton’s bedside table and turned of the lamp that was casting a pale golden light around the periwinkle-colored walls of the bedroom. He had left a note for their mom on the kitchen table to let her know why the first three bedrooms she would check on as she made her way down the hall when she got home were empty.

When she returned from the hospital, exhausted and in a fairly significant amount of pain, the sight of her children curled up together, peacefully asleep, brought a smile to her lips. She blew them each a kiss before slipping out quietly, not wanting to wake them up.

Two years later, the four of them were all sleeping in Patton’s bed again. But now, their mother couldn’t come to check on them. She would never return from the hospital again.

It’s been a pretty cloudy head-day for me, I haven’t really been able to focus on much, so apologies for this sub-par end note. Uhhh, okay. So. Hope you guys are having a good Monday! Make yourself some tea and take some deep breaths, it’s gonna be okay. Try to find some reasons to smile, even if it’s hard. Work for three minutes on something you’ve been putting off. Intend to just do three minutes, and you might be surprised by how much more you end up doing. And if you do only do three minutes, then that’s fine! You accomplished a goal! Great job! I’m so proud of you. Keep going strong, my friends. I love you! <3 ~Martin

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#sanders sides fic #anomalies #my writing

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hereitalkonandon · 5 years

Text

Some songs

I love reading what you say but I don't mind it when you don't write much, or that you don't answer my questions or say anything about most parts, it's not frustrating for me, in a way I'm relieved that I didn't take that much of your time when it happens.

I only feel it could be unfair to make you read so much about myself and take so much of your time without even doing the same thing myself, I highly doubt I could write something that long to you ever again unless it's an answer to one of your letters, so it's now sort of a vicious circle.

There's only so much I can ramble about even if I could do it forever since I would only be repeating myself as you said we would when it comes to shipping, and even if I do it so often, I try hard to not do it as much with you. I still end up failing but I always delete half of what I had originally written so that's something.

At first it was just because I was talking about things you didn't know about myself since you didn't know anything, but now you know almost everything I could tell you. I spend a lot of time doing the same activities and being into the same hobbies, just today I ran for two hours, as I've been doing for over ten years.

So what you said about me knowing your thoughts on shipping and all that, it's why I never talked about it before until now that you mentioned it, I figured there wasn't much we could say about it, other than my thoughts, but I've already told you what they are.

Whenever I felt a bit shocked about finding you, just going through your blog and thinking it was interesting and that you aren't like a real person, I would remember that I had already realized that it wasn't odd, I found you because you were so into something that not many people are into, it's only not super rare because ASOIAF/GOT is really popular.

It's not weird then, people are normally drawn to things that they relate to. And you clearly relate to Cersei and her relationship so it makes sense that I would find you.

I don't lie to people but I tend to do things like not being open about what I'm feeling and pretending I don't care about things, that I forgot something, that something is not a big deal, and making them wait when there isn't really any need.

A lot of dumb things, and I've never done that to you other than with the anons at first, because I didn't want to make you uncomfortable, knowing so many things.

I feel that sooner or later we will have nothing to say because such is life and your world is this really big place and you have all those dreams, even if I'm not exactly empty, my love for my ex-girlfriend has crippled me and it's the only personality trait I have

But it has been something different, being honest about what I'm feeling, answering right away, well as soon as I'm able to, telling you I spent hours doing nothing but writing you a letter, that I lost sleep over some of them and your blog. I'm happy that I got to know what that feels like and that I got to share thoughts with you. I'm so reserved and also often thinking about my pride, so it's the first time I do this and I don't intend to do it with someone else any time soon because I've never actually met someone that I could relate to. But I don't think we have a lot in common regardless.

I've no doubt that I could end up meeting many people, maybe in twenty or thirty years, even if I'm not intending to, but if so, that I could forget a lot of things of these days, but I know I won't forget how it felt and how important it was to me for a while.

I never cry and though I can feel pity and worry about others, I was barely a human anymore after my ex-girlfriend left when it came to anything but my feelings for her, now because of these days, I've somehow cried sometimes, I wouldn't even understand it if I tried, and I feel that even if this were to be the last interaction we had, because of you I've started gaining something back and that I'll slowly keep becoming who I used to be before it all went wrong, whether I want it or not.

Then maybe I'm just too emotional right now and I'll be the same trash I've been these four years in no time. I can't know that, and even though I wouldn't be hurting you or anyone else, I would feel like I lied today if I didn't say it.

I'm glad that something that long had some use to you, a distraction from work. I've seen you complain about your boss and I thought you were probably right about him but when I saw the post where you talked about the time he asked you if you really hated men that much, because of your picture of Eowyn, and saying men like girly women, I was sure he is the type of man that I tend to find the most annoying.

It means a lot to me that something I wrote could make you feel emotional even if you are already feeling that way, so though I wasn't expecting any comment about it because I was well aware my letter was too long, thank you for letting me know that.

And thank you for encouraging me to write, I honestly feel like poetry isn't for me, because I would only enjoy writing the kind of thing that I sent you, and the problem is that I would also just be repeating myself all over again, so that's why I would rather not try, I'm already sure of the way it would end.

But eventually I would like to find similar poetry, years from now, I think, so I can read it. I have a lot of free time, due to not having a social life, and at the same time I always need more time. I'm always angry that the day is over. I like the nights better though. I just mean I hate it when I have to go to sleep.

I already write what I want, just using my journals. I hate embarrassing myself, so since I'm aware I've no experience or anything, that's why I've been bringing it up in all my letters whenever I say I love writing. I just enjoy it a lot, but I don't believe that I'll ever feel the need to write for a public, other than also loving to write letters.

You said that maybe eternal love isn't for you, I can believe it if you mean you don't see yourself loving someone forever and that sooner or later you could get bored of them. Otherwise, and at your age, being who you are, I think it's more than likely that there will be enough men wanting to love you forever and if they are lucky they might be worth it.

And even if you said that you can't tell me how to live my life, I still appreciate reading what you truly think about things, as I've told you before, (and lately that's the problem, there isn't much I haven't told you before) so I enjoyed everything about that letter, and it was so insightful, the only problem with it is that I am who I am, but I believe the things you said are what anyone with common sense would want to do in my situation, probably what I would want someone to tell the children I won't have because I don't want them, to anyone that is important to me

I would want them to strive to be healthy and happy, I wouldn't care so much about them prioritizing purpose, like I do with my own life. The way many people do, I see what answer makes the most sense, what I would want for others, and then I choose something entirely different

I agree that you are probably loved half-halfheartedly right now, but not because of who you are or because of your boyfriend even, but because most people go through life only loving as much as that, it's not crazy that you happen to have a partner that probably, at least as of now, can only love in the way that most people love. And it wouldn't be crazy to go through other five boyfriends in a row that can't give you enough.

It's one of the reasons I relate to you, my ex-girlfriend once wrote "he wanted all of nothing" after our break up, and she was right, she didn't know a lot of things about herself but I can't say she didn't know me.

The way that I am I could never try something that didn't feel like the most intense thing ever from the very beginning, but I can see how actually dating people is the fastest or easiest way to eventually find that relationship too, and so I see why you are with him.

But being who you are, it's possible that if he doesn't eventually love you in a way that can give you back what you have been craving, then you'll move on from that relationship some day, however long that takes, and there's no need to hurry and end this one as long as you want to be with him.

It's just that I find it so hard to believe, to wrap my mind around it, that someone like you won't end up being loved in the way that she wants, and that I honestly believe that you deserve, the fact that you have the depth to realize that kind of love exists, understand it, and miss it, is enough to make me even mad that you can't have it now, even if you don't need it.

After spending so many hours both reading your blog and writing to you, it made my day to read that you no longer love him, even if it were only half-truth. From what I understood he took advantage of you and he doesn't deserve a thing from you.

But when it comes to that, I've spent all my life living like this, to me it seems almost impossible to get over that sort of love, without taking into account that you have so many other interests and that you haven't spent as much time with that person in your head as I have, it makes sense that you only think about him because you wish you could have that feeling again.

Whatever happens with your current boyfriend, what I believe you won't regret, is moving forward from your relationship with your first ex-boyfriend, and that's the best you can do.

I didn't have much to say other than repeating myself and because your letter was brief but I also didn't try to make it longer since I imagine you will have long days and be busy and then tired.

I saw that you asked for song recommendations on your blog, so these are a few that I love. Nantes, Elephant Gun, My night with the prostitute from Marseille, A candle's fire, and Cherbourg, all by Beirut, maybe you already know some of them because of the cover Florence Welch did

And then You and Me by Delays, I feel you would enjoy this one because of the lyrics, his voice annoys me but I put up with it.

Then there is this group that only had two albums called The Cinematics, perhaps you wouldn't like their sound, I think most of them have the same feeling, but I love A Strange Education, (it's also the name of one of the albums) it makes me so emotional for some reason, New Mexico, and Chase.

So I'm of course not expecting you to listen to them, and while I could just write a lot of songs that I like I decided to write the ones that I think you aren't as likely to come across by yourself, and that I find so moving that if you ever have the time to listen to them maybe you could find at least one that you enjoy.

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