#Crack: The true neo chaos!

[gravescore-records]

NeoEarth Bestiary Log 2: Soulshifters

Commonly described as monstrosities, Soulshifters are a complex, sapient and extremely rare species, possessing divine powers derived from their connections to a collective celestial body(aka, a constellation).

Although not entirely exclusive to Neo-Earth, Soulshifters have confirmed responsibility in reshaping the planet, terraforming it to their liking and ultimately turning it into their home. In spite of their pursuit of a semi-nomadic lifestyle, they consider Neo-Earth to be their safe haven and will always return to it upon completion of their journey. Because of this active choice on their part, this earns them classification as a Neo-Earth species.

There are only two known Soulshifters in existence due to their birth being under a unique set of circumstances impossible to replicate unless the qualifications are not met exactly or extremely closely, making them extremely elusive. Not only that, but that makes this document just as rare, as it may be one of the few that goes into detail regarding this species. Anyone going over this document would do well to do so very carefully. (OOC: Soulshifters are a closed species for this reason. Unless the qualifications for a Soulshifter to be born are met or very closely met it is impossible to recreate the steps needed for another pair to canonically be born.)

The two Soulshifters are said to have initially been one entity created by two celestial bodies that previously governed the primordial space-time continuum with the intent of mass dethronement and destruction of several powerful races including their own kind. This entity's powers are described to be tied and made through a large amount of stars spanning across the Cosmic Expanse to form a superconstellation said to only be visible at the end of the universe, able to harness the powers of chaos and order in a bid to dethrone the King of Everything. In past theory the existence of such an entity was considered a impossibility, yet this entity debunked this theory with its birth and thrived only to be ostracized as an abomination too powerful to claim its right to live.

This was before the entity eventually discovered its deicidal existence and fled from its creators before understandably beginning a rampage through Universe 333 via child-like tantrum, ravaging several planets over the course of many eons until it was eventually cornered and presumably defeated. In an act of pity for the unfortunate entity the King of Everything salvaged its soul before splitting it into two separate halves and letting the magic that filled the entity's being take on new form. With the two entities born anew from the physical embodiment of divinity, magic, and soul, they were returned to their original creators for a second chance. Having no true form or identity would allow these two entities to pave their own individual paths, thus creating the Red and Blue Soulshifters.

As the name implies, Soulshifters are a type of shapeshifter. They are monoped, with a look and feel similar to a cool slime on a surface level. However, taking in anything for a prolonged time period will actually cause the object or part to take on a lot of heat, as if it were dipped into magma. When their form is not being held properly, it can be reflected in the way that puddles formed of their physical essence bubble similarly to hot tar.

In the core of their chests is an object called a Soul Heart that acts as a Soulshifter's life source. Sitting on the surface of the "skin" makes the Soul Heart the most vulnerable part of its optionally amorphous body, as it takes effort to withdraw it temporarily under the surface for protection. The outside texture of the Soul Heart is comparable to that of the smooth but firm cookie of a macaron, while the interior remains unknown. In between the cracks on a Soul Heart offers an alternative textile experience in the form of a thick, protective rubbery membrane similar to what can be found in a chicken egg, but naturally much less fragile by comparison. It can be assumed that the inside of the Soul Heart is liquideous in nature, as it can bleed out a glowing magic substance described as "liquid sun", similar to plasma. During shifting the Soul Heart takes no change, remaining the same in appearance and only shrinking or growing in proportion to the form taken. When separated from the more goopy body, the Soul Heart seems to possess four thin tendrils on each corner. The implication here is that these tendrils keep the Soul Heart attached to the body in normal circumstances.

In several aspects such as personality, palette, and even powers, the two halves of the original entity directly oppose one another while simultaneously presenting the grounds for them to get along as they cover each other's weaknesses, increasing their odds of survival. Whether the cause is trauma bonding or something else entirely is unknown, but our studies have observed significant distress, mood swings, and drastic changes in behavior and health whenever the two are separated for too long.

Their powers also seem to contrast from their natures and elements, making them incredibly contradictory to even themselves. Suffering appears to have been a key part in both their initial creation and in their way of life, only numbed upon the onset of madness. Trauma can cause cracking in the Soul Hearts of either or both entities, granting an increased output in power at the cost of greater vulnerability.

They possess a unique shapeshifting ability that only seems to work when they have come into contact with any species with a biological genetic code(with some exceptions), allowing them to use that code as a template map for taking on a different form. Further limitations observed include the inability to change their preset color palettes(cold patterns for Blue, warm for red) and occasional inability to alter size. When changing into a new form for the first time multiple factors can subconsciously determine the appearance such as preferences, familiarity, desires…even stress factors could play a part in this, and make the resulting form bigger for protection as a result. The appearance is set in stone after the first shift and cannot be changed unless the form taken is detached from and recycled. It is worth mentioning that on their own, Soulshifters do not originally possess their own unique genetic codes until it is created when they take on a new form where it is applicable.

Studies show that Soulshifters have a drawback to their shifting in which they cannot do so within water, as their bodies begin to melt away from their Soul Hearts, leaving that to sink while the essence that made up their bodies stays afloat on the surface similarly to oil.

While it is impossible to separate their magic and divinity from them as they are the living embodiments of said magic and divinity, it has been proven that their forms can be separated from them. The bodies left behind will feel hollow, distant, and soulless as a result of the separation process. The form will eventually die if not reunited with its Soul Heart or given a new soul of its own. If a Soulshifter doesn't like a particular form it can forcefully separate and consume the form in question to recycle it, create a new form, and start anew. Their Soul Hearts can also be attached to another individual, slowly eating it alive and taking over their body in a similar fashion to a parasite, ultimately claiming the body as their own if desired once all traces of the previous soul are consumed. It is possible for them to live within the soul of another person without causing harm, though this is usually for safety reasons (Overseer Note: We were not given clarification as to whose safety would be secured in this scenario, but based on what little context clues we were given, we can assume that its the Soulshifter).

It is possible to create a false soul by transferring the consciousness and fragment of a Soul Heart into a premade form with no soul of its own, but should the consciousness is removed from the form and returned to the main Soul Heart, it can (not always) create something known as a Faux Soulshifter. Alternatively, increased exposure to or ingestion of the magic substances generated by a Soulshifter also have the chance of creating a Faux Soulshifter (Overseer Note: consider the creation of a seperate document discussing Faux Soulshifters for further clarification).

If a Soulshifter dies they can reconsistute within varying periods of time depending on the severity and speed of their death. This period of time can range anywhere from as little as a few minutes to as long as a few years. During this time their consciousness and spirit returns to the astral bodies they are tied to in order to recover, resting until they regain the energy to reform. The only way to ensure permadeath in the Soulshifters is if both are killed at the same time with no desire to continue living. This is said to have dire consequences as this will trigger universal heat death throughout the Cosmic Expanse, with time and space ripping itself apart as the constellations that make up the original entity burn up and explode simultaneously until nothing remains. Because of this their survival must be guaranteed.

Thankfully there is a surprisingly simple way to ensure this through feeding them material objects with high energy output. Materials such as uranium and plutonium, as well as substances rich in minerals and/or magic, make excellent fuel to keep the flame from their stars burning for much longer. A theory suggests that locating the individual stars and using our solar absorption generators to drain them of energy has a chance of stopping the heat death, but it's not advised we actually try to test this. Nonetheless, they would still live on as gods dying only if they lose worship or be forgotten to time. Thankfully, their efforts have ensured no shortage of it due to their categorization as primordial mad gods.

Unlike their other forms their default appearances were created through a special method, forming giant cocoons from an unidentified substance over their Soul Hearts and attaching themselves to a wall for support before undergoing a form of metamorphosis using a combination of DNA to create a body of their liking. The outcome tends to be random and time consuming as it not only takes several tries to form a suitable body, but the Soulshifters must work from the ground up instead of working off a preexisting biological code. Any bodies deemed failures are shortly detached from and either consumed or salvaged for future use. Theoretically, this cocoon method could be used to give birth to entirely new and unique creatures assuming a soul is implemented. Because Soulshifters do not possess a unique genetic code by default, these new creatures could not be considered offspring by blood relation and thus a mutual agreement for a parent-child relationship must be made instead.

Under normal circumstance, certain injuries and bodily modifications made to specific forms and their default are temporary. However it is still possible for those injuries and modifications to become permanent if neither are handled accordingly or they do not shift after a certain period of time. It is found that permanent injuries and modifications made to some forms do not carry over to the others.

While they mostly tend to differ in powersets, there are abilities that are either shared or function similarly such as a form of teleportation and a vocal attack charged by radiant energy.

Soulshifter Blue

Soulshifter Blue responds best to the name Geragera Guffaw and is classified as a god of chaos, often considered the more malevolent of the two in spite of a celestial nature and more passive abilities such as illusions, charms and healing. His true body is pitch black in color with small, light blue spots dappled throughout that glimmer against the dark of his skin not unlike stars. He sports a serpentine face shape with symmetrical light blue and white triangular teeth. His Soul Heart appears to be a pale off white, almost slate color with a radiant white interior, with his magic reflecting accordingly.

Alongside his other passive abilities previously described, Geragera is able to displace time around him, appearing to move faster. This is because he simply slows down time as opposed to just stopping it outright. Using this same ability he can self-duplicate by displacing himself within the created time shift to effectively create false versions of himself. He despises being kept in one place and doesn't do well with sitting still, which makes sense for his somatic casting method that incorporates movement and even dance for spellcasting.

Geragera enjoys taking forms that are small and unassuming in appearance as they make him easy to underestimate, equating him to an eldritch horror in the form of an endearing creature. His forms also follow a cool color palette, primarily but not limited to greens, cyans and blues as well as falling towards darker greyscale colors. His most identifying features throughout most of his forms are his glaringly bright blue eyes and speckles. Geragera's possesses the unique capability to take on mechanoid forms due to an inclination towards technology and machines.

Observations from creatures that do not consume stars as part of their regular diet have found that the essence from Geragera's true Soulshifter form has a poor flavor akin to the common glowstick, with a burning chemical mouth sensation to match. Thanks to Geragera, we have discovered that Soulshifters are able to produce a type of roaring sound, and that his is a rather horrid mix of screeching metal and nauseating static.

Soulshifter Red

Soulshifter Red responds to Ruckis Kingstarr and is classified specifically as a Goddess of Control. She is often described as the more benevolent of the two despite an Infernal nature, a greater affinity for fire and destructive terraforming powers. Her body is a stark white color with faint splotches of tiny red dots all over her body that makes it look as red tinged as her teeth, which are cartoonishly straight and blackened. Her head shape appears canid or equine in nature, with hair reaching far down her back like a fur mane. An internal glowing red magic core under a black outer exterior gives the impression of red hot magma glowing beneath the dark cooling lava thanks to the cracks on the surface of Ruckis' Soul Heart.

In spite of her destructive powers, Ruckis can create new life with just as much ease and bend molecules to her will, from changing the molecular structure of an object and turning it into something different by bending light, sound and even force to generate highly convincing illusions within any given space. True to her name, Ruckis is loud and proud and hates to be silenced, fitting for her preference to use verbal casting. In some, if not most cases, singing is used to as her casting method.

Her true form possesses ear-like appendages that simultaneously look a little like horns, with the left having a permanent nick that follows her throughout her forms one way or another. It's likely that this is an incurable magic scar leftover from a physical altercation with her mother many eons ago. Her forms tend to be larger for safety in strength, making her a damage sponge. Her palette tends to color warm colors primarily but not limited to reds, oranges and yellows paired with lighter greyscale colors. Her red piercing eyes follow most other forms. Her default is a curious exception to the rule, with blue and green heterochromia in the eyes intended to hide her true identity. She is able to take on plush or toon forms because of an extensive love and knowledge of artwork and music.

[kxng-of-gcmes]

HC: Summon Chants and Duel Themes

Each of my OC Duelists have a Summon Chant and Duel Themes, similar to the characters in Duel Links; sometimes multiple! List below!

Shadex: Duel Theme

“Witness my true form! Red-Eyes Black Dragon!”

“Dragon of Darkest Scales, and wizard of Darkest Magic! I combine them to create a chaotic force, the shadow which will overtake you! Rise, Red-Eyes Dark Dragoon!”

“I darken the Circuit; Link Summon! From the darkest forces, arise! Link-4; Darkness Metal, the Dragon of Dark Steel!”

"Witness the true Lord of Horror; the undisputed master of the Undead! Rise up; Red-Eyes Zombie Dragon Lord!"

"The Burning Flames of the Underworld rise up in Rebellion! Synchro Summon! Rise from the Valley of the Dead! Red-Eyes Zombie Necro Dragon!"

Belladonna: Duel Theme

“Come forth and Soar! Link-4; Firewall Dragon!”

“The fire that ignites life throughout the Universe! Link-5; Firewall Dragon Darkfluid!”

“Appear! Link-5; Firewall Dragon Darkfluid- Neo Tempest!”

“The Thrums of Cyberspace echo in the vast grasp of light! Become one with the World! Link-6; Firewall Dragon Singularity!”

Capt. Valkoor Stevenson: Duel Theme

“The man with a heart bigger than his ravenous stomach! Raise Anchor for Link-2; Blackbeard, the Plunder Patroll Captain!”

Naomi Kisilla: Duel Theme

"The terrible twins that'll steal your heart~! Say hello to Evil ★ Twins Ki-sikill & Lil-la~!!"

Rutherford B. Charles: Duel Theme

"Have you ever seen a Dragon so Radiant? So Divine in all of her beauty~? This radiance marks the crown jewel of my Deck! Crystalline Fusion! Be born- Lustrous Drake Queen Opalum!!

"Twenty thousand years ago, a Comet containing a precious gemstone dragon fell to Earth. Now, this Radiant Crystal gives me the energy to surge out for a win! Appear in all your fearsome terror- Level 10; Orichalcum, Lustrous Drake of Eternity!"

"The Burning Rage of the Lustrous Drakes! Fusion Summon! Rise again from the endless Flames! Level 8; Pitayan Tourmalia, the Pristine Lustrous Drake!"

"The Stalwart Prince of the Lustrous Drakes! Synchro Summon! From the Deep Earth bellows Anan Peridoux, the Pristine Lustrous Drake!"

"The Calm Waters of the Lustrous Drakes! Crystalline Ritual Summon! Swim on up Lotusia Turquoi, the Pristine Lustrous Drake!"

"The Dark desires of the Lustrous Drakes! XYZ Summon! Show them how cute you are, Lychira Fluoritium, The Pristine Lustrous Drake!"

"The overlord of all Lustrous Drakes! Ultimate Crystalline Contact! Be reborn; Longan Pearlium, the Pristine Lustrous Drake!"

Nebina Bastet: Duel Theme

"For years, we as human beings studied to create perfection! At last, we have cracked the genome to unimaginable power! Rise up- Translucell Perfection!!"

"Ultimate XYZ Evolution! Transcend Perfection Itself! Rip away all ipurities, raze it clean from the world! Descended from Chaos and Order- Translucell Ultimate Perfection!!"

Jack Pepper: Duel Theme

"Let's SPICE IT UP! Introducing the Chef Patron of the Nouvelles, Say hello, to Baelgrill de Nouvelles~!!"

Peppino & Peppina Pasta: Duel Theme

"Protectin' the City from'a vile Vermin and'a cold pizza- My'a Dinomorphia Kentregina!!"

"Deliverin' your'a Defeat in 30 minutes or less; Dinomorphia Rexterm!"

Suza Unuchiche: Duel Theme

"Let's pick up some Speed! Synchro Summon! Start the Parade, P.U.N.K. JAM Dragon Drive!"

"You'll see why I'm the Spiky Tornado! Blow 'em away, Ukiyoe-P.U.N.K. Amazing Dragon!"

"Goin' Light Speed! Bring 'em in, Psychic End Punisher!"

[theabyssalmuses-a]

[ @firestormmaidenanddragon​ sent in: "I get a feeling you're hiding something from me, you're being suspicious." Garrett says to Mash. (rule code thing, also, hello!) ]

“A-ah, really? Do I give that impression...?”  She shuffles from one foot to the other, shifting her weight absentmindedly. The Shield Maiden certainly seemed slightly on edge about something, but what was it?  There was a few moments of recognition, before she spoke up again.

“Well, you see, the truth is that---”

The flowery illusion of Chaldea’s own Shieldmaiden vanishes suddenly, revealing the true perpetrator--!

“Hell-ho, it’s me, the magus merlin-  Got you~! You know, I don’t take too kindly to being called ‘suspicious’ , but I suppose such things cannot be helped!”

[theabyssalmuses-archived]

“N..No! Come back! We need more Berserkers around here! I, Ibaraki Douji command you to stay, uh, Shrek!” 

“Are you kidding, Berserker? Look at him! Such an absolutely revolting creature- good riddance, I say...” 

“I concur.” 

“SHREEEEEEEEEEEEK!!! COME BAAAAACK!!” 

[qqueenofhades]

In your opinion, do you think most ordinary people in Russia support the war or not?

Welp. That is... a question, and it requires understanding a lot of the historical, social, and cultural context of both Soviet and post-Soviet Russia, which will (hopefully) help you and my other readers in critically assessing the information that is coming out about this topic. An important disclaimer is that I am not Russian and don't live in Russia, and therefore this cannot be considered any kind of authoritative on-the-ground report. Instead, it is just my accumulated knowledge of how the Russian system works and has worked, both now and in the past. The short answer is that we have certainly seen much more widespread and high-profile resistance to this war, across a far broader class of Russian citizens, than we have seen to any of Putin's neo-imperialist ventures in the recent past. So how should we square that with polls claiming that anywhere from 58% to 86% of Russian citizens support the war, or any other depressingly large number? Is there any useful value to be had in those numbers, and do they actually tell us anything about grassroots opinion?

First, the rule of thumb of Russian politics -- not always, but consistently reported from a number of observers and different sources -- is that the generational divide is paramount. Older Russians, who remember the privations of the USSR and the economic chaos of the '90s, and who largely get their news from state television, are generally supporters of Putin. They have bought into his pitch that he is offering political stability, relative economic prosperity, and a predictable government, even one that has been increasingly cracking down on individual freedoms and human rights. This doesn't bother older Russians as much, because they grew up in a system where these concepts barely existed anyway, and since modern Russia is -- at least prior to the sanctions -- far more economically comfortable than the USSR, it seems like an entirely viable trade. Older Russians are also used to having very little say in their political system, and view it as something to just endure or find a way to live with, rather than trying to get rid of it or change it or reform it (which is often considered "Western" and therefore, in Russia's long-established grievance politics, bad.) It's a point of pride to support the leader and to feel proud of surviving incredibly tough circumstances. Since they're likewise fed on a steady diet of Kremlin television propaganda, they become more and more entrenched in this idea.

Younger Russians, on the other hand, have grown up in post-Soviet Russia, have taken advantage of new media opportunities and press freedoms, are integrated into the Internet and global society, familiar with Western-style concepts of liberal democracy and freedom of expression, and are now generally the ones fleeing the country if they can remotely afford to do so, because they can see that its economic and political future is in ashes and they have nothing left if they stay. They likewise tend to loathe Putin and vocally protest against the war, though I don't want to make this too much of a binary distinction. Citizens of all ages have been part of the street protests, and soldiers' mothers are, for obvious reasons, clearly not too fond of this whole thing. It is generally true, however, that the protest movements and exiles of choice skew toward the younger generation, who are overall affected by the millennial economic crisis as well as the situation in Russia.

The next factor to consider is that of urban vs. rural locality. As is also the case in America, Russian big cities tend to be more liberal, affluent, and young, while rural areas are often more conservative, poor, and elderly. Moscow and St. Petersburg are the most liberal areas in Russia, and they have accordingly seen the highest number of protest-related arrests. The average income in Moscow is approximately twice what it is in the regions; despite its vast oil wealth, Russia is still fundamentally a poor country on the per capita level, since all that wealth has gone into the pockets of Putin, the siloviki, and the oligarchs. As such, if you focus your analysis only on the cities (or conversely, only on the countryside), your results will be distorted depending on who you're asking. However, protests have taken place across the entire country, in over 50 cities including in rural Siberia and the Far East, so the opposition is not confined to the liberal western cities in European Russia. This was also the case with rallies in support of Navalny last year. While the crowds weren't as big as in Moscow and St. Petersburg, they nonetheless were there.

Third, an argument sometimes made against the Russians is that the Russian state (at least until now) isn't North Korea or China, which actively block their citizens from seeing any dissenting information, and that as such, ordinary Russians can and should freely access competing (and therefore critical) non-propagandist media. This is true, but only to an extent, and it certainly isn't true now. Most independent media exists online, internet access in the rural Russian countryside is extremely touch-and-go, and television is the single most important piece of broadcast media and the most influential in shaping public opinion. The Kremlin knew this, and began its takeover early in Putin's reign, schooled in the information-control tactics of the USSR and the KGB. Unlike the West, which gets its news almost entirely via the Internet and social media, with cable TV networks steadily plummeting, Russia's traditional information ecosystem is still via broadcast television, and it is now almost entirely owned by the state. The last few years have seen an increasingly harsh crackdown on independent journalism of any type, anybody designated as a "foreign agent" (read: critical of Putin) has to label themselves as such or face huge fines and imprisonment, and since the Russians who can access independent media are often educated, urban, and therefore more likely to be politically liberal already, there's only so far it can spread.

Likewise, imagine if a rural small town in, say, southern America was told that it had to learn Spanish and rely only on Mexican sources to tell them about what was really going on in America. This wouldn't work for a whole cornucopia of complicated racist, linguistic, educational, and sociopolitical reasons; why ask them to learn a foreign language to learn a foreign perspective on their own country, and to trust that interpretation over what FOX News tells them? While English is taught in Russian schools, and there are (or rather were) still a few Russian-language independent news outlets, a lot of foreign media is written in English and there's an obvious language barrier, as well as related political, cultural, and social distrust. Why on earth would you believe the alien West, when Putin's regime in particular has harped on it as the source of all evil, to tell you the truth about what's going on in your own country, over and against what trusted authority figures (whether or not they deserve that trust) and your own neighbors are telling you? In short, you wouldn't. Since Russian public education, like American public education, is intensely propagandistic and focuses on establishing Russia as the greatest country in the world, this mindset starts early and is very difficult to eradicate.

Next, while independent media might be theoretically available for ordinary Russians to access, technologically speaking, there are serious (and increasing) penalties for doing so, for even posting critical comments or other material that runs counter to the official narrative, and now that Putin is going full totalitarian crackdown, even signing an anti-war petition online is enough to get you a visit from the police. Most Russians now have to actively use VPNs or other information safeguards to access foreign media, because quite obviously, the Kremlin maintains a squad of state hackers and dedicated snooping mechanisms, and you don't know if just visiting a "suspect" site will be enough to flag your IP and thus your location. If you're brave enough to look for these competing narratives in the first place, you have to know how to cover your tracks, and if you don't, it's just safer not to do so at all. The fact that a lot of internet news sites had to work out explicit ways for Russian users to get around the formal censorship of their content, and that there are still a lot of hits from inside Russia indicating that they are doing so, is remarkable.

This is because, unfortunately, Russia has never had anything remotely resembling a modern liberal democracy, and possibly no people have suffered long-term under their own government more than the Russians. Going from the Russian Empire, to the Soviet Union, to the chaos, crazy-quilt privatization, currency crashes, and lawlessness of the 90s, to Putin's increasingly regressive rule, means that they have simply never had the chance to develop the civic society and robust social-public infrastructure that the West takes for granted. Russia also has a long history of outright fabricating statistics, data, or basic information in general; see the cynical old Soviet joke about Pravda, the Communist Party newspaper, not containing any actual truth. (Pravda means "truth" in Russian.) In short, you can't quote "official" Russian statistics as if they have meaning, because they don't. They still haven't budged from claiming that only 498 soldiers have died in this war, while the US puts the number north of 7,000 (as a conservative estimate) and Ukraine claims that it's close to 15,000. They have been demonstrably and brazenly lying about everything to do with the war, as if they're simply not used to operating outside a propaganda universe and have no idea how ridiculous they sound, or just don't care. In another example, their number of COVID cases was persistently undercounted, and it is very difficult for any contrasting or critical information to get enough foothold to broadly circulate. It largely relies on citizens self-selecting themselves to try to find that information and be ready to bear any associated penalties, as well as to somehow know if it is reliable. Which, while they do exist, is an increasingly smaller pool.

So that brings us to the question of the poll numbers. Russians are used to telling pollsters that they support the president, especially if there's obviously no other viable option, and to act like they have complete freedom to respond with no consequences, as would be the case in a Western democracy, is fundamentally naive. They have no idea who this pollster is, what they're going to do with the information, or who they might report it to, and it's more remarkable that there are still people who are openly willing to inform the increasingly more tyrannical state apparatus that they don't support it. Besides, that presumes that the survey was conducted in any kind of methodological or consistent way at all, and wasn't simply dreamed up to manufacture consent and/or for the Kremlin to tout as a public-relations coup by "proving" that the public, despite all those inconvenient and ongoing protests, is actually on their side. Despite everything, Putin is still concerned with his image at home, and appearing to act as the populist champion of the Russian people. There's no way that he would let openly critical information be published, or let the official organs of the state find that actually, no, the Russians don't want this. It might sound paradoxical, but Putin wants the Russian people to look like they support him, because he has forced them to do so. There is not an actual alternate option.

Likewise, as I said, there is absolutely no necessary relation to reality between the "data" that the Russian side is releasing about this entire war, and what is the case in the rest of the world. Without any of that knowledge or ability to dig into what is primarily a piece of justifying state propaganda and not a genuine statistical tool, the poll numbers are essentially junk. You can't even try to analyze them, because they're premised on nonsense and artificial reality. You just have to throw them out and say "well, we don't know anything." This is especially the case since anti-war protesters are either being arrested or leaving the country, which means they're even less likely to be "sampled" in the first place. That would obviously leave a seemingly more pro-war population as the respondents in the poll anyway.

This isn't to say that all Russians actually oppose the war, since that's clearly not true, and papers over the long, hard, dirty work that they're going to have to do if they ever want to get rid of Putin and actually, fundamentally, fully reform their political system in a way that hasn't yet happened in all of history. As I said, Russian historical memory suffers from many of the same problems of American historical memory, when they can't get over not being an empire, feel like they've been wronged, like they need to get back what is theirs, and that everyone else is their enemy. Unlike other former dictatorships, which have been able to transition to modern democracies, Russia is, politically speaking, still stuck in the 1980s, and will soon be heading back there economically as well. Even if Putin was to be overthrown and replaced with someone else within the siloviki's inner circle, that person would have fundamentally the same mindsets and action impulses, even if they were willing to strategically tone down the ideological warmongering in order to re-establish ties with the West. It wouldn't be a change of system, just a change of figurehead, and lead back to these same problems. Which is why the sanctions have to stay indefinitely, and definitely until Putin is out of power. Who knows how long that will be, but still.

Tl;dr: We have no accurate way of knowing how the Russian population at large, across the entire country, really feels about the war, except to note that domestic protests against it have been much more visible, systematic, and sustained than ever before. Even all the attendees at Putin's pseudo-Trump flag-waving rally in Moscow the other day were largely state employees who were forced to go and were paid for it, and left before it was over. If you have to coerce and bribe cooperation from state employees who don't have a choice if they want to keep their jobs, that doesn't really speak to a ton of organic, widespread enthusiasm. Putin's reluctance to call up Russian Army reservists, instead hunting around for Libyan and Syrian mercenaries or (denied) troop requests from Belarus and Kazakhstan, also seemingly points to the fact that the Russian people aren't exactly hankering at the bit to fight, no matter the trumpeting proclamations of victory from Kremlin state TV. We have many, many reports of Russian troop morale being absolute shit, that they didn't know they were supposed to invade and didn't want to, and that they're surrendering, leaving their equipment, or otherwise walking away. Since they can also be shot by their own commanders for doing so, this is not a choice without risk.

None of this excuses the Russian troops still committing war crimes on Putin's orders, indiscriminately shelling civilians, and clearly trying to raze Mariupol to the ground at the cost of enormous humanitarian catastrophe. None of this excuses any individual Russian who has played a part in financing, enabling, or promoting Putin's regime. It was settled at Nuremberg that "just following orders" isn't a legal or moral defense, and that needs to be reckoned with. Russia has a whole lot of work to do, in the event -- increasingly more unlikely -- that it survives this ill-chosen war of aggression without completely destroying itself first. It remains to be seen how, and whether, it will choose to do so.

[neo-culture-mafia]

[23:44PM] (Based on Arrow 2x23) — It’s not a very wise decision to drag someone away from computers with FBI technology when this someone is the only person inside the whole mafia who can deal and work with such technology. And it gets even crazier when the city where you live is right in the middle of the chaos caused by a war between two mafias. 

“Taeyong, what are we doing here? The whole city is falling apart.” you question after Taeyong closes the door of your old basis that the mafia has decided to abandon some weeks ago after it got compromised during the war. 

“I know.” he exhales, walking you further in the room. “You need to stay here.”

“What?! An explanation would be nice, you know? You can’t just ask me to--”

“I’m not asking.” Taeyong firmly states, finally looking at your eyes. “I will come and get you when this is all over.” he says as he turns his back on you and starts to walk away.

It almost looks like he doesn’t know you enough to know that the next thing you would do in a situation like this is stopping him from leaving. 

“No! Okay, let me stop you right there.” you hold his arm, forcing him to look at you again. “You should hear yourself, you sound insane right now! We all have to be ready to fight against Slade, you can’t just lock me in here!”

“Y/N…” he warns you.

“I won’t stay, not unless you tell me why.” you insist, and by that, he finally takes a deep breath which tells you that you’ve made your point.

“I need you to be safe.” he answers, knowing that answer wouldn’t be enough.

“Well, I didn’t start helping you out because I wanted to be safe. I don’t want to be safe. I want to be with you… and the others, unsafe and fighting for our city!” you exclaim. 

“I can’t let that happen.” he addresses in a calm tone.

“Taeyong.” you gently grab his wrist, still not getting why he would drag you away from your responsibilities when the city is literally burning to ashes. “You’re not making any sense.” 

“Slade took my ex because he wants to kill the woman I love.” Taeyong starts to explain, still in a quiet volume.  

“I know, so?” you insist.

“So he took the wrong woman.” he points out. 

And by that words, the head of the mafia knows he’s just achieved what he needs to fool Slade, his enemy, who’s probably listening to the whole conversation through his not so hidden cameras. But the next words that will leave his mouth are not difficult to say because they aren’t true, they are difficult because Lee Taeyong, the man underneath the black leather jacket full of hidden knives and guns, knows that he will never be able to admit those words to himself again without putting you in danger. He treasures you way too much to put your life at risk. He may have lost a lot of people until now, people who died because of him, but his heart would never heal if he lost you.

“I love you.” 

Those three words were never so difficult to say before. It kills him to know that you can never know how serious he is about this, even though it’s just part of the plan at the moment, a plan that you don’t know yet. But he rathers you hating him forever for apparently “playing” with your feelings than to let you know the truth he hides even from himself. 

“Do you understand?” he asks as he quickly hands you the syringe knowing that the blind spot of Slade’s cameras wouldn’t get any view on that. He has his eyes on you, but if he could choose, he would look anywhere else but you. He knows how disappointed you would feel.

 “Yes.” you quietly murmur, not daring to move a muscle that isn’t related to your arm that is gathering all the strength you have left after that literal punch on your feelings to hide that syringe inside your pocket.

By the disappointed look on your face when you realize the plan, he knows he won’t ever be able to forgive himself. However, as he starts to walk away from you, he deep down hopes you can feel by those words how much it hurts him to leave you behind knowing that Slade is much likely coming to get you and how much it kills him to know that he would never be able to come clean about how he meant every single letter from those 3 words.

“What are you doing here?” Taeyong asks after taking a few steps away from the basis where you are now, waiting to be taken. 

“Witnessing my older brother destroy his well-deserved chance of being happy.” his sister appears from the shadows of that dark place, staring at his face. 

“How much have you heard?” he questions, closing his eyes for a few seconds knowing that he screwed up.

“Enough to know you’re making a terrible mistake. Why are you doing this, Tae?” she asks, approaching him carefully with a hard-to-read-expression on her face. 

“Practical reasons. She’s not like you and me, she doesn’t know how to fight, so when I confront Slade after we take down almost all of his men, he’ll have his guard down around her and won’t even expect her to do something like that. In conclusion, he passes out because of the medicine inside of it, giving us enough time to end this without killing him and creating a bigger problem with other mafias.” Taeyong explains in a robotic tone, almost as he had already thought about that question before. “He won’t have a chance to hurt her, don’t worry.”

“I'm not worried about that, I know we can protect her even under that kind of circumstances. Listen to me, I was the first one to call you out when you appeared on the door of our basis with a bullet next to your chest in the car of Y/N, remember? I told you that it was too dangerous to tell someone about us, even though you had no other option since we had entirely lost contact during that mission and you could’ve died without her help. And I remember pretty vividly that I almost freaked out when you appeared with her again a month later saying that she was the only person in the city who could crack that FBI code and help us discover what information our enemies were looking for on those computers.” 

“We all know she’s an I.T genius, get to the point.” Taeyong impatiently says, not looking at her in the eye.

“The point is, big brother: she’ll hate you for the rest of her life thinking that you played her here when you didn’t.” she completes. 

“What are you talking about?” he frowns. 

“I’m talking about how you didn’t lie about a word back there.” she declares, with a small smile appearing on her face after seeing Taeyong’s face twist in surprise as a response. “Try not to look so shocked, I’m your little sister, I know you better than anyone else.” 

“I’d rather her to hate me forever than her to find out about that. You are my sister, you’ve been back for a year since Mark found you and you’re literally the person who’s been in the most danger since then. What do you think they would do to her if I assume that I love her for real? Our enemies would never stop going after her.” he explains, finally staring at her eyes again, searching for any sign that she understands what he means. 

“I know you’re just trying to keep her safe, but all of us in Neo Culture have your back. We’re a family and I’m pretty sure that if you ever assume her, we will have her back as well. Taeyong, you could’ve chosen anyone, you could even have told her about this plan before, but do you know why you didn’t? Because you didn’t want to lose the only chance you think you have to tell her how you really feel and by that: Tonight it’s the first day I believe you have ever acted selfishly. And you know there is no space for selfishness when your life and the life of others you love are at stake all the time. Just think about this.” she taps on his shoulder, giving him a warm smile before she walks away, getting ready to inform all the others about the boss’ plan. 

[real-jaune-isms]

RWBY Volume 7 Chapter 10 Rundown

Another great and satisfying episode, yet it leaves us with a better cliffhanger than even the one going into this last winter hiatus. I have to commend them for that, even if I hate how badly I couldn’t wait for the next episode. But while so many of the scenes were really good, it almost feels too good to be true. The heat going off and Watts being as in control as he was could be the worst things get this volume, but I can’t help but anticipate the moment it goes from bad to worse. Spoilers for next week, that moment is coming soon.

Fortunately for my recurring annoyance at their bad habit of doing this, the episode does not start in the aftermath of this Grimm attack like they had for the one following Penny being framed and the riots after Jacques laid everybody off. Instead we open to Mantle still in turmoil and distress. Grimm are running and flying everywhere, Atlesian soldiers are killing a few but still taking casualties, and people are running for their lives in mass, one group barely avoiding getting trampled by a stampede of Mega Goliaths, or Megoliaths for short. We briefly see the Happy Huntresses doing a good job of defending civilians before a Sabyr runs by them. Another Sabyr tries to attack a Faunus mother and son before getting literally cat-called by Nora who jumps from the top of a building to bash it to dust. Marrow and Weiss are with her, and get back to work as they see another wave of the vicious cats running in. Speaking of cats, Blake is being chased by a Megoliath and 3 Ursai, and only dodges the smaller beasts by using Dust based clones to take them down or put them in the path of getting trampled by the larger pachyderm. The Megoliath can’t handle corners as well as she can and crashes into the front of a building in trying to keep following her. The beast is closing in, but she dodges to the right and it instead runs right into a rooted Elm who stops it dead in its tracks and even lifts it into the air by its tusks. Yang rushes in and plants her sticky bombs on the thing’s belly before Elm throws it a few dozen feet into the air where Yang blows it up. The three are winded but still urge civilians to get to the nearest shelter, knowing full well that even if those shelters are going to fill up fast there’s not much safe alternative right now. Qrow and Clover are taking Teryx out from the rooftops before getting unheard new orders and leaping away. Back to the first group of heroes, Weiss shows off a little and impales a Sabyr that had leaped over Marrow’s head on her Knight’s sword. She then looks at him from behind the blade and laughs that he had gotten scared by that and is holding his tail for safety. Ruby had done the same peeking around the edge of something to laugh 4 episodes ago. Guess some of her partner’s habits are rubbing off on the Ice Queen~ The civilians they’re protecting are backed against the border wall as alarm lights are still turning on all around them, making for a very panic inducing environment. They beg Nora to let them be taken to Atlas where it’s safe, saying they won’t survive here and decrying Ironwood for not doing anything to help. Nora tries to quell the outrage, promising they will be taken to safety, just give the huntsmen and huntresses a little more time.

But they soon get something better than “a little more time”, screens all over Mantle lighting up with a broadcast from Robyn Hill and General Ironwood who are hand in hand to prove there will be no lies. Such a useful Semblance Robyn has~ Ironwood is telling everyone about Salem right here and now, though he leaves out the part about her being Ozpin’s immortal evil ex and just says she’s the ancient and malicious force behind the attacks on Beacon and Haven. We see shots of our other heroes killing Grimm in Mantle, like Ruby with Harriet, and Ren and Jaune with Vine, as they realize Ironwood is coming clean. Even the villains are shown hearing what he has to say, Cinder and Neo watching the broadcast on the latter’s Scroll while Watts and Tyrian hide out in an alleyway. Speaking of those two bad boys, Ironwood publicly outs them as being responsible for all the recent hardship and freezing in Mantle and says that the panic and distrust they’ve sewn is exactly what Salem wants. It’s a pretty rousing speech, especially when he says that the people have what it takes to overcome this threat if they all work together. A pack of Sabyrs had been charging up the street to attack the people Ren and Jaune were protecting, but Vine uses his aura arms to spread them apart and press them against the buildings on either side so there is a clear path down the middle. As the General starts to inspire people, Jaune uses all his training and experience... from preschool crosswalk duty. It does help here though, since everyone gets into a single file line and keeps track of one another through a hand on the shoulder so they all stay close together while Jaune boosts Ren’s Semblance to mask the entire group from the Grimm pack they’re walking right through the middle of. He even has a few of the preschool kids there to “show’em how it’s done~”. The whole thing has a bit of a biblical Exodus vibe if I may be honest, and it’s kinda satisfying to see Jaune has skills and strengths no one saw coming from taking the work others thought was beneath them. Ironwood also admits why he wasn’t doing much to help Mantle, that being that he was focused on the Amity Tower that he says is now complete and ready to launch. The renovation of the Amity Coliseum is not news to Watts, but he didn’t know it was to become a communications tower and he pulls up the schematics in disbelief that James was working on such a big project without him noticing. Ironwood declares that he is taking all security ships away from Amity, and sending a dozen more down with them, to evacuate everyone in Mantle up to the safety of Atlas. Robyn publicly endorses and fully supports the plan and says now is the time to come together for peace, and the once terrified crowds cheer.

Someone who is NOT cheering is Tyrian, who punches a wall hard enough to leave cracks out of anger and frustration. All their work causing death and chaos, and the people are more united than ever. Peace like that is sickening to him. But Watts quells his rage for the moment, he’s still got a scheme in mind. He just needs Tyrian to cause a bit more trouble and keep the public’s eye on Mantle while he pays a visit to Ironwood’s pet project. Tyrian raises the valid point that this is already about as chaotic as you can get, but Watts plays to his ego and says if anyone can accomplish the task it’s a master like him. Robyn’s still on screen saying that the people still in shelters should stay put and transports will come to them, and that she will personally be coming to help in Sector 17. And that’s enough to inspire the psychopathic scorpion’s next move. 

Meanwhile, we go back to Atlas where the cycloptic pyromaniac... I mean Cinder, is pissed that Watts and Tyrian have already started a grand plan before she arrived and she had no idea. Last she had heard Salem would be targeting Vacuo and she would have Atlas all to her secret self in the meantime. But she realizes that since she was left for dead at Haven Salem has changed the plan. She’s been out of the loop, but she’s not out of the game. Since everyone is focused on the trouble Watts started down in Mantle, no one will be paying attention if she makes her move in Atlas. Neo lets her disguise powers do the talking for her by turning into a perfect doppelganger of Ruby. She wants to go after Ruby now and get her revenge, but Cinder insists that they will be following HER plan dammit. First the Maiden powers (so she can become stronger and hopefully be able to kill Ruby at last), then they can indulge in cathartic revenge. So Neo will go after Oscar to get the lamp, since they want to take that from the heroes too, and Cinder will take advantage of Ironwood’s paranoia to expose Fria’s hiding spot. As we see next episode, she actually has a really good subtle plan for that. What is less subtle is the foreshadowing of how Neo will achieve her part of the plan: she’ll pose as one of the heroes she saw at the dinner party and thus can turn into to get close to Oscar and catch him by surprise, most likely that’s going to be Ruby.

Back down in Mantle, dozens of ships indeed start arriving and landing to evacuate the civilians to safety. We hear a sonic boom and see a streak of green dash across the sky. Another three Megoliaths charge at the ship Blake and Yang are helping herd people onto, but Elm reveals that her hammer is also a rocket launcher and uses it to blow the Grimm away. She even roots her feet down to brace herself against the recoil. Then she gives the cheering people an okay sign and a smile, it’s all in a day’s work! They hear a sonic boom too and the green streak soars by them too. Ruby and Harriet are looking for the closest landing zone to bring their group of civilians to, but instead find a bigger and meaner Megoliath than the last few. Maybe they were actually just Goliaths and this one is a real Megoliath... Regardless, it’s blocking the way to the LZ and charging at them. Luckily, the green streak soars in and is revealed to be Penny!! She shots a beam in front of the Grimm to disorient and stop it before landing with her friends. Harriet and Penny rush in to try and take the monster down, while Ruby tries to focus and tap into her Silver Eyes. Unlike last Volume, she can’t keep her focus for very long and abandons that strategy in favor of flying up to a rooftop to shoot the Grimm. It does next to nothing, as does Penny stabbing all her swords into the elephant’s exposed skull. Instead it pulls the poor android in close by the wires her swords are still attached to and sends her flying a few blocks away. Ruby dashes over to check on her, but she’s fine. She just cheerfully says ouch and comments on how dangerous the mammoth’s tusks are. This gives Ruby a great idea and we get one of those confidently nodding in agreement without even having to ask what the plan is moments from Penny... before she asks Ruby to tell her what it is. Harriet is still zooming around and weaving between the Grimm’s legs, trying whatever she can to stop or even slow the beast, to only detrimental results. Her Aura breaks, but Penny blasts the Megoliath’s head before it can trample the speedster and gets it to turn down a different street toward her. It does so, and she fires a Kamehameha at it. No, really. She moves her hands to one side and behind her to charge it, then keeps them cupped together to fire the blast in front of her! Admittedly the energy is coming from her swords spinning in a circle in front of her, as she has done since her first fight in Volume 1, but the hand movement was different here and more in line with Dragon Ball’s most iconic technique. Still, she one ups the reference by diverting 3 swords further down and to her left to fire a smaller beam at one of the Grimm’s tusks. The single point on tusk starts to heat up, while the larger beam seems to be mostly for slowing the Grimm. At Ruby’s signal, Penny stops the attack altogether and the speedster zooms right up to the Megoliath’s face to cut off the tusk at the point weakened by the heat of Penny’s beam. Clever strategy, weakening the density at that point to make it vulnerable. What comes next makes the plan epic though, as Penny grabs the severed tusk and impales it into the ground with the tip facing up while Ruby trips the mammoth’s back leg and it falls onto its own sharp body part. Much like the Omnidroid from the Incredibles, the only thing strong enough to kill it is itself. With the dangerous beast defeated, the people cheer and Penny’s reputation is restored as the Protector of Mantle. They can safely evacuate their group, and they hear similar good news from Nora and Yang’s squads. Hooray!

As Penny gives Robyn this good news over the comms, we cut to the hometown hero herself as she tells Joanna to bring the people they’re with to safety while she “checks for stragglers” and runs down an alley. Tyrian arrives to ambush her and bemoan how he hates all the hope and happiness she brings as he dodges her crossbow bolts and even catches one between his fingers before bending it with his thumb. But as he charges at her, a fishing hook almost snags him and he realizes he is the one being ambushed. Qrow and Clover are here to back Robyn up and she purposefully revealed her location to, no fishing pun intended, lure the killer in. She wants first crack at the bastard who killed her followers, but Clover wants to settle his grudge first. Unfortunately, neither can compare to the chip on Qrow’s shoulder after this punk poisoned him in Volume 4 so he’s earned the first shot. Tyrian does not like this new development one bit, and it’s possible he might just be outmatched... but we have to wait until next episode to see how that goes.

For the final storyline of the night, Doctor Watts is flying up to Amity to give the new communications tower a check up of sorts. With carpetbag in hand he makes his way to the center of the arena and surveys the renovations. They are... rather lackluster, and that’s the point. Ironwood lied about the tower being finished so he could bait Watts into coming to try and sabotage it, and the doors lock so the evil genius can’t escape. You might be wondering how the General could have lied when he was on video with a human lie detector, but they were sneaky and used a close up of just his face when he said the tower was completed so neither Watts or the audience saw that it was a lie!! Ironwood leaps down from the commentator’s booth to face Watts in the arena, and Watts uses his hacking rings to activate the biome system so their duel can be a bit more interesting~ A couple geyser and volcano biomes, and four gravity platform sections. The gravity biomes were apparently the only type CRWBY didn’t get to show off during the Vytal Tournament, so they made them the focal point of this fight. Ironwood has the good sense to try and shoot Watts while he’s bent over to touch the ground and activate the biomes, but the scientist is nothing if not ingenious and has a hexagonal shield of hard light Dust to project out of his right glove that stops the bullet. While Ironwood is checking what biomes are coming up, Watts runs off the edge and leaps onto one of the rising platforms in a gravity section. When all the mechanical changing is said and done, Watts has the high ground and both men draw their weapons. Ironwood of course has his two thick hand guns, while Watts is revealed to carry a flintlock pistol with gold vine designs up the double barrels and about... 18 or 20 chambers for bullets. That is way too much gun for one gun. From what small glimpse we get of the bullets, they seem to be hard light dust based, so who knows how much of an oomph they will pack? As he starts spinning the chambers, Watts admittedly indulges in cliche to say he won’t be going down without a fight. And that’s where the episode ends, a great cliffhanger leaving us in enthusiastic high spirits. I loved this episode a lot, and lots of other fans seem to have too.

Shame I have existential dread from the next one...

[komahinasecretexchange]

Title: Sanctuary

Author: @sonivegas

For: @notcoolhajime

Rating/Warnings: G/T Rating; intrusive thoughts about self-harm, but nothing too disturbing or prevalent!

Prompt: Recovery/Crushes and Confessions

Author’s notes: huhehe guess who!!! I LOVE YOU SM and i was so thrilled to be your exchange partner i was ready to make several gifts for you but alas…. arm…. though admittedly everything i touch becomes a train-wreck and my brain was all over the place writing, i am sorry in advance, BUT i hope you like it enough nonetheless, june!!!!! <3

Like most things people call unpredictable, Hinata was certain that his affinity, which he considered to be curiosity, for the unknown really would land him into trouble one day or another. Though truthfully, he could consider the fact that calling them ‘unpredictable’ in this day and age would be discrediting the progress they’d made since the simulation. Said progress included days with unspoken calamity stickling under everyone’s skin, leaving nothing but utter chaos in their wake, when even one person was pushed over the peak of their cracking eggshell a bit too early. They were tired, naturally. Broken limbs and fractured souls and disbelieving eyes, with the distinct scent of a musty kind of smoke permeating the air every now and then even till this day, if only there to taunt them.

But of course, it was a lot to process after the hell they’d been through, and it had taken every bit of those five years to finally make some degree of an inch of difference. Some days tended to be worse than others, however. Even leading Hinata to occasionally subject himself as a rag doll to merely appease Saionji from bullying Tsumiki to tears every day. In those times, Koizumi proved herself to be some godsent blessing with the gifted ability to calm the storm in mere seconds, compared to Hinata’s droning hours of consolation. Still, nothing could bite more than the exasperated glare the Ultimate Photographer would snipe at him – if Hinata thought about it, it was not unlike saying, “This is why I can’t trust you useless boys to do anything right.” Quite frankly, Hinata sometimes wished he could share the same sentiment, especially in despite of his goodness-believing heart. But even on their worst days, Hinata considered himself lucky that despite taking on the burden of helping each of his classmates overcome their problems, they all understood that everyone was making a conscious effort to be kinder to themselves, making an effort to change themselves. Well… Almost everyone.

“Oh! Hinata-kun, there you are!” And of course, as if on cue, he would show up. And there it was… that pestering bubbling heat and increased heartrate yet again. All that for an oft rambling and hope-obsessed clown. Hinata lifted his gaze from the restaurant table to meet Komaeda, a gentle smile playing on his face, not unlike a warm greeting. Though the boy in question seemed rather… out of breath than usual. “Were you looking for me?” ‘Is that why you’re panting and paler than a bottle of baby powder’ was the other snarking question he meant to ask, but Nanami had already told him off for being too blunt earlier that morning when he’d accidentally made Tsumiki cry. He wasn’t particularly fond of getting chewed out every time he opened his phone or laptop for work, only to find her glaring angrily back at him through the screen. Despite being the usually kind-hearted and hyper-realistic AI that he and Naegi managed to restore, she sure was… firm, at times. “Kindness is everything in these times, Hinata-kun!” she’d spoken true and befitting as the self-proclaimed Jabberwock Island peacemaker; not to mention, Hinata’s impulse control. Komaeda quietly tucked his hands into the pockets of his green jacket, shaking the hood off from his mess of white hair. The same green jacket he’d worn throughout the program, the same green jacket that he almost never takes off. “Well, actually, Naegi-kun is waiting for you outside. He has a shipment for us because of the, uh… rather unexpected weather.” “…Unexpected weather?” Hinata’s voice lilted in a bit of alarm, “Was there supposed to be a typhoon?” Apparently, judging from the mystified look on the other’s face, Hinata stood corrected. Still, a small but nervous smile played on his lips, “Not… really? I mean, you see, –"

“IT’S SNOWING BALLS DEEP, MY GUY!”

Mioda’s voice hollered out seemingly no where, booming through the opened doors was more like an electric jolt bouncing off the walls of the restaurant, loud enough to make both Komaeda and Hinata nearly jump out of their skin. Then again… that kind of volume was something they had yet to get used to, despite living alongside the embodiment of an amplified sugar-rush. And there wasn’t a surprise in the world that could make Komaeda look paler than a ghost, because as usual, he’s no more than a few tones shy of looking like a ghost. But to his credit, he had seemed healthier than he did in the program.   But putting that aside, to Hinata, her line struck him as rather… peculiar, as he furrowed his eyebrows. Almost incredulous. Almost like she said… “It’s… what?” In an instant, the Ultimate Musician marched up till she was merely inches from the other’s face, slapping two hands on both cheeks just to squish them a little as if they were mochi. According to Hinata, saying that her magenta eyes were excitedly sparkling with one-hundred volts of energy would be a criminal understatement, even. “Ssssssnnnooooooooowwww,” she spoke, dragging out her syllables with surprisingly more patience than Hinata could ever consider her capable of. “Snow! It’s snow, Hajime-chan. It’s snowing, Haji—” “Ya-huh.” Hinata’s voice dripped in sarcasm, or rather disbelief, “And this here is literally a tropical island.” Even looking outside to the window of the restaurant, it was hard to tell if it was true or not – the skies were clear and blue, after all. He’d have noticed something wrong with the weather in the morning, wouldn’t he? Komaeda’s lips ghosted something like a grin, “You’re not wrong to be suspicious of a claim like that. That’s what I thought so too, but Naegi-kun came by with winter jackets for us because of the unexpected snowfall. That’s what I was trying to tell you earlier.” When their eyes met, the gears in Hinata’s mind slowly clicked together every bit of information. Not that he really needed to anyway, as when Komaeda began to shrug off his jacket, it was clear that the poor kid had been out of breath and shivering from being trapped in nothing less than a frosty snowstorm. Still…

A vibration in his pocket. Hinata immediately knew who it was. “Hinata-kun!” Nanami’s muffled voice resonated as he reached for his pocket, “Good morning, I just woke up a little while ago, but I happened to overhear!” Nanami’s avatar on screen stood with her hands clasped together, eyes glowing with about an eighth of Mioda’s excitement, “I know you’re confused but, looking at the special weather report the Future Foundation relayed to me a few minutes ago, it looks like this is sort of a rare climatic condition on the real Jabberwock island. Unlike the Neo World Program that almost always had sunny weather.” She paused to ponder for a moment, “Ah, plus, you know, global warming… I think.” Hinata’s lips pressed firm, letting out a loud huff through his nose as he watched her expression slightly pixelated, change to a gentle, but thoughtful look through the phone screen. Nanami continued, “I know how much the cold bothers you, but… I’m pretty sure it’s not some kind of ploy by the people to make us miserable.” There’s a slight lilt in her voice when she says that, almost amused, “It’s been years since you’ve all repaired the city anyway. I think, given the time of year, we should simply take it as it is and make the most of it.” “I absolutely concur, Nanami-san!” A familiar, regal tone of voice chirped up the stairs from the lobby. Noticing upon her entrance, Sonia had already taken the liberty of dressing herself for the winter, apparently having dug into the new shipment of winter jackets, though Naegi himself was no where to be seen. Being dressed in a baby blue faux-fur and silk trench coat, with Persian patterning at the hem and sleeve cuts, was rather fitting of her dignified but casual style as the Ultimate Princess. A voice from within Hinata’s head (that he didn’t want to hear) said that the Persian pattern ‘was actually and more specifically, an Iranian design, reminiscent of the Imam Mosque in the Isfahan province of Iran.’ Kamukura droned on like a bee humming by his ear, continuously supplying him with even more trivia as if he’d rehearsed the entire history of the ‘Safavid dynasty’ for this very day. But by that point, Hinata had already turned the volume dial in his brain to zero; a setting that he wished would stay as the default, but alas, he knew he owed much to Kamukura anyway for how far they’d come as survivors of a killing game. Might as well give him some time to shine. He figured that he’d be bored to death and back again if he too had to be sanctioned off to a corner of some mundane and talentless guy’s brain. Especially considering Kamukura’s lack of tolerance for uninteresting things, it’s a surprise he hadn’t gone into a hundred-year slumber to save himself the trouble of listening to Hinata. Or disintegrated from boredom by then anyway. Trailing significantly behind Sonia were Tanaka and Souda walking side by side, talking excitably about some new zoo tycoon game they’d heard about. Though with both having become surprisingly chummy in recent years, it wasn’t the most astounding sight to see. But granted, Hinata would be lying if he said it still didn’t make him smile a bit at least to see them joking around and sharing interests. Admittedly, it was both odd and endearing to see two former rivals in love (or rather, a genuine candidate and a one-sided lovestruck fool) become best friends. It had started off rather straightforward; clearly remembering the day Souda requested, insisted even, that he wanted to sit down with Tanaka and talk to him properly, saying that after taking time to reflect on the events of the past, he wished to apologize for his behaviour in the program and his treatment toward Sonia in the near future as well.  

Surprisingly mature, Hinata had thought, and it turned out that the Ultimate Mechanic had in fact matured beyond his looks, greatly, through some damn near ground-breaking miracle. Souda had even taken it upon himself to recreate a miniature version of Nezumi Castle for Tanaka’s hamster companions as a token of friendship. Saying Tanaka was pleased would, once again, be a rather grave understatement, so far as going to rather shyly pledging his lifelong companionship, in his own unique way, to the teary-eyed young man who’d bowed a full ninety degrees forward.

If he had to think about it, Komaeda really wasn’t the only one who had the power to make Hinata’s heart stir. Every time he would be lucky enough bear witness to a slightly kinder change in behaviour from his classmates, without fail, there would be a rush of warmth filling his chest. Though undoubtedly a different feeling from the sensation that coursed through him, reserved for just that one person; but Hinata felt that he should digress from such thoughts when the boy in question was standing in front of him, unperturbed and unknowing of it all. Nonetheless, Hinata would rather have everyone get along in peace. He’d rather everyone build on from their pasts. They’d never be able to forget it, but at least they’d be able to learn from what had transpired.

At least they had another chance at life, right?

“Hinata-kun?” Yet again, that soothing voice brought his thoughts back to the present, grounded him. Komaeda was definitely still a work in progress when it came to being kinder to himself, but he had definitely grown to love his classmates wholeheartedly even disregarding the idea of talent. For now, this would do. Grey eyes met green in curious concern, and a kind, rejuvenated smile rested on Hinata’s lips to reassure the other boy. “It’s nothing.” A step closer, a little bolder, and he let his fingertips barely brush his shoulder, “Why don’t we all head outside and just enjoy the day then?”

White. Just cold and white. There wasn’t a single damn inch as far as Hinata could see that wasn’t covered in snow.

Sure enough, as they stood there freezing with frigid air chilling and drying out their lungs, Naegi had sent them off with a wave accompanied by a dashing smile and a carefree, “See you later, don’t get sick in the cold, Hinata-kun!” leaving the winter supplies behind, heating system parts and all. Easy for him to say, when he lived in an apartment funded by the Future Foundation. Rather easy for him to say, when he didn’t live on a crusty old island with parts breaking down every other day, hearing Souda breaking out into the hysterics of a banshee-like fit from witnessing his handiwork falling apart due to weathering and bad luck before his eyes. Though, as always, Komaeda tended to topple the blame of faulty parts onto himself. A bit of a stupid and breathy, “Ahaha… what rotten luck for me to be around and cause so much misfortune on everyone again,” would come out of Komaeda’s mouth every second day, and with Souda curling into fetal position on the floor all the other days. Hinata had always thought it to be the obviously visible rust and metal-eating acidic residue but, of course, what did he know?

The parts sent along to them were probably table scraps, he knew he could expect that much; despite all their work for the Future Foundation, even rebuilding the city with the rest of his class and doing additional charity and rehabilitation work for the survivors, there would still be passing comments a little too harsh for their own liking. Whether they were on the way to Naegi’s office, or running an errand for Kirigiri, there was always a snide comment or cold shoulder out of nothing but prejudice, but they’d gotten used to it by now. They had to. Undoubtedly, they were the ones to get the second-hand materials. Maybe they were still nothing more than an afterthought to them, discarded, removed from society’s ranks like used rags back onto the island where they’d tried to kill each other, though they voluntarily wished to come back. Even so, they were nothing more and nothing less than the Ultimate Despair.

However unkind the few cold-hearted were, over the years in and out of the city, at least most of the members had warmed up to them. Possibly a result of the tireless hours of labor, nursing those who became sickly back to health, and putting their lives on the line for the city they sought to destroy all those years ago, together. It was the least they could do. Hinata knew by the sickly look on The Imposter’s face, or the exhaustion lining both Kuzuryuu’s and Koizumi’s features, that they were all trying their damnedest to do their best and make up for the loss they’d caused. Even through their worst days, bickering and hair pulling and terror riding through their bones, they tried their best while rediscovering the bonds they had once forgotten. That earnestness in those seemingly hopeless yet hopeful days was all that mattered to him. That’s all that should matter to anyone at this point, if he could be honest with himself. Hinata found himself prying away from the rest of the class, most of whom stood around gawking and poking at the snow like school children seeing a heavy snowfall for the first time in their lives. Taking hold of the box cutter Souda lent him from his toolkit, Hinata sliced open the top of the second box that remained unopened. Supposedly, these held the parts that he’d later let Souda tinker around with to build what Naegi was a heating machine, and surprisingly enough, the bottom of the box and the snow under it wasn’t stained with rust. ‘Maybe we got parts that weren’t drenched in acid rain for once’ he found himself joking with a half-exasperated smirk on his face. Though, if he were completely honest, it wasn’t far fetched from the old truth at all. The new truth, however… “We got brand new parts?!”

Souda’s voice chirped (correction: shrieked) loud enough to be heard across a baseball stadium. To say Hinata was merely confused by such statement would be rather dry. And yet, there Souda was; eyes twinkling, almost bright enough to rival Mioda’s one-hundred volts, (though he’d sworn he heard her distant whooping about another machine in the box) immediately digging through steel parts like a fox leaping headfirst into snow if only to bury half its body in it. Rather fitting, seeing as there was snow everywhere. Fitting, seeing how from his side profile whilst preoccupied with the fallen snow, even Komaeda looked like he could be Souda’s arctic fox companion, ready to indulge in winter’s joy as well; complete with his sly demeanor, bright eyes, cunning wit and charm and… being that kind of unconventionally yet infuriatingly attracti— “Ah, there’s also a note in here… Yo, Hinata, take care of this, would ya? It’s time for me to finally get cracking on some real machinery.” Hinata’s head whipped back to Souda as he stood, watching him attempt to pop his knuckles but failing soundlessly, instead excitedly stretching his arms over his head now that he’s in his element at long last. Throwing his hands on his hips and taking a heavy breath in, he looked just like an eager elementary school kid in spirit, just with the body of a 26-year-old, “Just like, look at this! It’s state of the art tech?! I can’t believe they got their hands on this, and I…” As nice as it was to see Souda excited, Kamukura or not, Hinata had no particular fancy in machine parts, especially something like air conditioning parts. But if Souda could practically get off to it, he really wouldn’t be one to stand in his way. Yet again, he digressed from that mental image with a grimace on the inside and a polite smile paired with a thumbs up on the exterior. Not even Kamukura had the energy to interfere; for once, the two of them concluded unanimously with what could be summed up as, ‘Yeah, just let the man deal with it.’

The note, now in Hinata’s grasp, however, garnered an interest from both of them. “To the…” A pause. He blinked once, then twice. Was he reading this right? “To the… graduated class of 77-B… this, among some other incoming shipments, are our gift to you.” Hinata read out loud to everyone. It wasn’t the ‘Remnants of Despair’, it wasn’t a vaguely sugar-coated reference to ‘criminals’, it wasn’t any other biting remark or degrading comment they’d grit their teeth and smiled through during their gruelling days of work. Simply, the graduated class of 77-B. “Despite our differences in the past few years, we here at the Future Foundation have come to acknowledge the efforts that you all have put into rebuilding the city.” Hinata paused, taking a deep breath, “In the past week or so, our dispatched team has done a thorough final cleaning, rehousing any remaining rehabilitated survivors into the buildings that you all have helped to rebuild. There is no longer any need for your services, as we have a fairly capable maintenance team. We will still provide necessities to Jabberwock Island until we can establish finer details for currency, as we realize that it is still too scarce to be of fair value. You are free to return to the Future Foundation for work, or consider this an early retirement or rehabilitation, though the supposed pension may not be grand.”

Pulling the paper away from his face, he carefully read the last line with a steady voice, “For the misconduct and poor treatment due to our negligence and distrust, we hope that you can accept our apologies. Thank you for your hard work. Signed, Togami Byakuya.” There was little to do but tuck away the letter and let the words sink into his mind. His mouth felt dry all of a sudden, feeling a rush deep in his chest like pain and relief at the same time. At long last… at long last, they could be seen for a little more than criminals. Without a doubt, the burden of their crimes would still be carried on their backs, but… “Hinata-kun…” Komaeda’s hand found it’s way to his shoulder, crouching beside him, Hinata unaware of when he himself had come down to his knees at all, “I’m surprised it’s Togami-kun of all people addressing us so politely, I would’ve thought it was Naegi-kun this entire time.” He let out a chuckle at the thought, probably imagining it as well. “But isn’t it a good thing, then?” “I mean, who knows, Togami might as well have been held at gunpoint by Naegi to write nicely.” Hinata responded, watching Komaeda throw his head down to try and hide his laughter, though he wished he could see it anyway. He continued, “…But by “a good thing” you mean, to be acknowledged as Ultimates?” Hinata’s eyebrows furrowed in slight confusion. To that, Komaeda merely smiled warmly, “To be acknowledged as equals, as people, people who have been redeemed as symbols of hope.”

Hearing Komaeda’s words and turning back to him, the way the sunlight caught his eyes and reflected off the crisp and pure white snow made him seem like he was glowing. Maybe he was, in Hinata’s eyes at least. It made him think time and time again about how things had changed since they’d first arrived back on the real island; they couldn’t even say they were truly “back” because nothing was ever quite the same as the program. Nothing was the same except for the feelings that stuck to them, buried inside them. The motivations, the pain, and the horror. All of the ugly aspects and hardly ever the beautiful.   What could you make of the place you spent the most traumatizing days of your life in. The place where you were full of feelings of distrust, confusion, and betrayal, where the wrong choice could be the end of the road for everyone. The place where you both loved and feared the people you lived alongside. Someone like Komaeda in the Neo World Program, full of hysterics and twisted tongues and horrible ideals that had truly rolled the game into motion – someone he never fathomed to forgive or trust another day, and yet, when he looks at the same man now, he’s overcome with the strangest feeling of hope. Dare he say happiness, even. Happiness for the fact that they had all slowly brought out the best within themselves despite their trauma and loss. The hope that contrasted so starkly against their despair, much like the hardships in any average person’s life tends to illuminate the good. It gave him peace of mind, for their second chance at life. Even Komaeda, despite his persistent self-deprecating ways, had been able to make at least an inch of progress. Maybe not towards himself, but to others – he’d come forward, trying to change his way of thinking, bit by bit each day. Speaking of a new hope, the one that they had built together, instead of the ideal he had to desperately cling to all his life for sanity in a world where fate would backlash at every step of the way. It took an immense amount of trust on both of their parts, but it was worth the risk. Things had definitely changed. And he was okay with that. __

It was only a day after arriving back on the island that Komaeda had immediately started disappearing for most of the day. Whether he was trying to punish himself or test the trust of his overly-kind classmates, he didn’t quite know. Perhaps all he probably wanted, was to merely… Decay. Like rotting fruit that was never sweet to begin with, just the regretfully wrong choice to pluck from the tree. The one that would undoubtedly infect the rest of the barrel. It was just a mistake.

Despite the generosity of Kamukura’s skills, alongside Hinata’s well-wishes, maybe all it was that he merely felt obligated to bring everyone, including himself, back to life; for a second chance, for redemption, for “hope”.

And he hated it.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this was it? He was supposed to die, even with regrets writhing somewhere in him, even with words left unspoken, it was fine if he was just left to die. He wasn’t supposed to see him again. He wasn’t supposed to wake up every day, seeing her wrist hanging lifelessly where his used to be. It didn’t matter if there were things left with loose ends, when a life is taken by someone’s hands or even their own, they cannot come back to life. That was never the reality he was forced to grow used to. Not matter how long he would sit praying with clasped hands and white knuckles for hours on end, incense and prayer bells ringing in his eardrums until he could hear the ringing in his sleep, eyes burning and heart aching for another chance to say, “Have a nice day at work,” just for a mere chance to see the ghost of his hope all those days. Even if he couldn’t get any closer to them in the time that they were alive, because it was as if a wall stood between them; no matter how hard he ran, the distance never closed between him and his loved ones. Maybe now, he realized, that they were sparing themselves of his horrific luck cycle, only to be struck by it anyway. Hopeless. Futile. Just like him. At least a realistic hope, void of such grandeur and delusions like a second chance at life, was the only thing his luck would ever validate. Not some fantasy, nor would it entertain a chance at a happy ending. It wasn’t supposed to, and ideally, he would have stayed dead if not for the meddling reserve course student who he tried so hard to despise. Who he knew he should despise. But things would have to stay this way, he supposed. Orchestrating another suicide would be too troublesome, too exhausting, too much of a hassle to clean up. Going out in silence like a light without wasting any resources would be the better option anyway, wasn’t it? Even if it was the difficult way of leaving for good. At least there would be no chance of bringing a shrivelled corpse back to life.

Though he was buried in his thoughts, Komaeda could make out someone standing beyond the door from the shadows on the ground. Before even seeing his silhouette, he know who it was; and he knew he shouldn’t even be in here. The door to the warehouse flew open at last, exposing Hinata under the frame, with yet another stern and annoyed expression as he eyed Komaeda sitting on the dusty ground. Even someone like him would be disgusted after all. The air between them was mostly silent, as usual; after arriving on the island, Komaeda made sure to distance himself from everyone and drop the act of friendliness out of politeness. After all, no one should have to deal with someone like him for longer than necessary, not even if they’d all done terrible things. He was an attempted murderer, at that, knowing Hinata had figured it out during that last trial he’d heard rumors of. Even if he did feel that he was justified at the end of the day.    

And it was always Hinata. Every day he would disappear from the main island and away from everyone, he’d always be the one to bring him back; often wrapping his fingers around Komaeda’s left wrist in a firm, almost scolding manner, and pulling him along behind him out of whatever rut he’d dug himself into for that day, like some mechanical ragdoll on autopilot. Komaeda would often stare down at his wrist and fantasize about whether it’d tear right off his arm if Hinata was rough enough with him. Still, intrusive thoughts wouldn’t linger long enough when he could feel the heat of a living person on his skin. “So,” he’d started that day, “why is it that you insist on holding my hand every time you drag me back? Afraid I might run away?” He spoke in a low tone, something akin to apathy or embarrassment in his voice that he hoped Hinata wouldn’t catch. Hinata, on the other hand, didn’t seem bothered to turn around, “You could say that, and also that you always seem lonely when I find you.” “I don’t need your pity, Hinata-kun. Especially not from the likes of you.” That was the biting remark he’d expected. Rejecting, insulting, as if he hadn’t heard it all before. Still, the way he spit out those words made him feel the exhaustion he’d carried on from sleepless days even stronger, though he did nothing but treat the brief silence with a near-crushing grip on Junko’s rotting hand, knowing Komaeda couldn’t feel it in the slightest. “It’s not pity… and I don’t care what you think of me, even as the reserve course student you hate so much, but I know where I stand in this world.” Hinata spoke with a sigh, not letting emotion betray in his voice, nor did he let the insults get to him. One of the many things he’d learned he had control over better in his adulthood than in his youth, evidently. “It’s about time you do too.” “Oh, so it’s not pity? Enlighten me, then.” Even without turning around, Hinata could feel Komaeda spiralling as he spoke, “Isn’t it rather fitting that scum like me stays isolated in that warehouse, like a bird in a cage?” Komaeda said, a small laugh leaving with his breath at the end. “And what would you know about where I stand? I already know my place.”   “Clearly you don’t.” Hinata slowed his pace down, knowing the conversation was going into uncharted territory, though it needed to be said, “At least, not with the way you’ve been treating yourself even after waking up a second time.” Komaeda froze. “Waking up…?” His lungs felt like someone filled them with smoke, like he couldn’t contain his voice anymore – feeling a burning sensation on his face he’d never really felt before.   “Waking up?!” He stepped away from Hinata, tearing away his wrist like he’d just been burned. Some deeper part of his mind was gravely disappointed that Junko’s arm didn’t rip off from his flesh and skin right then and there. Bleeding, though it would only be his own fresh blood. Junko’s would be nowhere to be seen. “What would you have done if we weren’t in the program? If we had died for real, like we were supposed to, then what would you have to say to everyone who died? That’s not how this world works!” Komaeda started to pull at the fabric of his jacket in frustration, to the touch it was shabby and damaged and discoloured, even beyond it’s physical appearance – just like him. Hinata still wouldn’t fully face him, and that only aggravated him. Arrogant, foolish, reserve course student. His eyes widened, throwing himself further into shouting out, “You call your hope, some gaudy and artificial rebirth, ‘waking up’? And for what, the sake of criminals who destroyed the world—?“ “Get over yourself, Komaeda.” Hinata finally snapped back to the other boy. He’d done his best to keep his composure, and he wasn’t about to mess up entirely now, “Thinking of yourself at a time like this, when everyone has a second chance to redeem themselves. You think we don’t know what reality is? You think I liked waking up those first few days to see the face of a murderer looking back at me in the mirror? You think I liked having to throw up because I felt sick of myself for deaths which I had little to no memory or feeling of remorse for? It’s not like any of us expected to even have another opportunity.” Hinata’s sucked in air through his teeth sharply, jaws clenched tight when they weren’t moving, feeling something like adrenaline in his veins. Adrenaline, he thought, or maybe anger. “Komaeda, do you honestly think I haven’t regretted waking up, even once?” Hands that he didn’t realize were tightened into a fist pulled a little harder, watching Komaeda’s anger slowly drain from his expression, “So, what, are you going to tell victims like Koizumi and Mioda they don’t deserve another chance at life because of who they were? This isn’t just about us, but are you going to deprive yourself of another chance just because you’re hung up on the past? Give me a fucking break.” Komaeda couldn’t do anything but stay silent, this time not meeting Hinata’s eyes, but letting the warm air and the scent of summer rain on asphalt fill his lungs and slowly wash out the frustration he’d felt moments ago. Once again, it was always Hinata. It was always Hinata who managed to both infuriate him and ground him every time.   “Then again, I never could understand that ‘hope’ of yours, even at the very end. Still…” Letting his now quivering grip relax, Hinata took another deep shaky breath, closing his eyes for just a moment to figure out what he wanted to say. There was no room for mistakes, especially when he had an opening like this with someone like Komaeda Nagito. “You’re allowed to be angry at the outcome, I can’t dictate how you’re meant to feel. But I know you still have a place in this world, despite everything. Even if it’s difficult to remain here, you still belong with us, as an equal in 77-B. As a friend.” At those words, the tension seemed to dissipate slowly; but there was still never any sure telling, Komaeda could revert right back to building those thorn walls around him, desperate to keep well-wishers out lest his luck bring them misfortune. But Hinata needed the change. They wouldn’t be able to move forward without the acknowledgement alone; he wanted to move forward with everyone no matter how long it took, including Komaeda. Especially Komaeda, even if he couldn’t quite understand why he was so desperate for him to follow. “Not even your luck can stop you from taking pleasure in the simple things in life. Not as long as we’re around to support you. But nothing will change unless you want it from your own heart… though, just so you know, I do want to see you happy some day.” Hinata reached for his hand, his real hand, and smiled gently despite everything – to remind him that everything good and everything bad in their lives was most definitely real, that he wouldn’t be alone when facing them, that there was better means of retribution that didn’t lead them to suffering quietly. Not every bit of damage will disappear, but even if it means some things may merely fade, others will heal eventually.

“Tsumiki took a crash course for counselling and now runs a therapy clinic, with help from assistants at the Future Foundation.” Hinata looked to the sky, wondering when patches of it started to change a little from red to purple. “Let’s go together tomorrow, okay?”

Komaeda faced the floor and mumbled under his breath, leading Hinata to furrow his eyebrows in confusion, “Huh? Did you say something?” At that point he’d also noticed he was still holding Komaeda’s hand. Neither of them seemed to notice or care a whole lot, so of course he wouldn’t be the one to bring it up. Though Komaeda’s insults were mostly empty, but when caught off guard, it wasn’t like his confidence was high enough not to get curb-stomped by the jabs anyway. “So you’re talentless and hard of hearing too, huh?” Komaeda shot an unimpressed look at him, to which Hinata could merely shrug weakly before the other let out a sigh, “I said, Ultimate Persuader.” Komaeda’s lips ghosted the slightest hint of a grin, as he immediately casted his eyes to the floor, “I guess… I bet it rubbed off on you from Kamukura-kun, but it’s fine. I’ll take you up on your offer, if you so insist.” And that was that, Hinata supposed. Though some days were more troublesome than others, Komaeda found himself wandering back to the warehouse less and less to plot the way the Spear of Gungnir pierced his abdomen in the program, neither would he lay on the filthy ground and pray to rot in silence where he lay. Instead, he’d let Hinata gently grasp the fingertips of his right hand, every Sunday afternoon on their way to the third island.

–

“Ah… so a karaoke machine, is it?” “No shit, it’s a karaoke machine. Big brother, don’t you have ears? Or eyes, for that matter? Ones that aren’t always following that cotton-head creep?” Saionji stuck her tongue out distastefully at Hinata, eventually skipping away from the stage where the machine had been propped up gracefully thanks to the heaving efforts of what Souda dubbed one lazy afternoon as, The Muscle Hustlers, Owari and Nekomaru. Hinata, like most people with at least a bit of taste, despised that name; though at least he didn’t demand a cash refund for violating his ears unlike Saionji.

Hinata didn’t pay any attention to that snide remark either, though he wondered if she merely came around to insult him for fun. After all, Saionji was always full of them, and entertaining or even refuting them would only end up with someone on the verge of tears – usually Saionji. Though it wasn’t her being driven to tears that he feared as much as he felt bad for; it was Koizumi’s wrath that he actually feared. Making someone’s girlfriend cry would do that, he supposed.

After spending a bit of time on his own, mostly tweaking things or vegetating, he’d come out for the invitation to the party at Titty Typhoon, apparently to congratulate themselves on an early retirement… or rather, graduation. And by the looks of the karaoke machine, decorations, and booze on the table, things were about to get rather loud rather fast. Though, he had to really hand it to Mioda for whipping everything up so quickly; she really was a different kind of motivated when it came to music and parties. On their own, they were enough to make her excited but, together with an alcohol-enthused Kuzuryuu looking forward to the drinks, it was something like getting the already-hyper Mioda Ibuki to chug an energy drink and a coffee at the same time. Basically, a rather dangerous combination that Hinata would consider getting Kamukura to split an atom would the safer option between the two. Even Imposter had a hard time keeping up with everything despite being one of the main organizers, and honestly, who could blame them? At least, it looked like everyone had arrived and was having a relatively good time. Hanamura was busy in the kitchen, whisking away at comfort food made gourmet by perfection; even he had come around to accept that it wasn’t bad to embrace his roots with homely cooking, to honor his mother. For her sake, he’d also given up on perverted tactics and jokes over the years. Though he never quite brought it up, but Hinata eventually noticed anyway. Everyone else had someone to talk to or something to do – he found Komaeda laughing and chatting with Pekoyama over their soft drinks, Nekomaru and Owari helping with aligning the lights on stage, in exchange for glazed hams to their hearts content, bellowing out cheers as they lifted giant rods of iron off the ground to move to storage; all the while, Tsumiki stood by and panicked, crying out to be careful as the two of them hoisted everything with nothing but their bare hands and a whole lot of willpower. He saw Sonia, Gundham, and Souda playing card games at their own table, watching Sonia slap down a card with a triumphant grin and watching the other two crumble before her. Fuyuhiko, on the other hand, he spotted near— “Hinata-kun?” Nanami’s voice chirped beside him, snapping him out of his trance. He’d almost completely forgotten that she’d woken up for the party. He huffed at himself, some insensitive friend he was. “Sorry, it’s all good Nanami. I was just thinking about… things.” “You were spacing out and looking at everyone. Especially you-know-who.” “You-know-who?” He snorted, “What are you, a grade schooler?” “You-know-who means Komaeda.” She bellowed out louder than she needed to, and, naturally, the man in question whipped his head around at the sound of his name. Hinata felt like sweating buckets. Or being struck by lightning. Nanami, on the other hand, relished in his embarrassment and waved at Komaeda through the screen, which he had cheerfully reciprocated before turning back to Pekoyama who merely smiled between the four of them. He took a deep breath, “That,” he jabbed toward the screen, “Was unfair.” Throwing his back to the wall again, he huffed irritably, only to hear Nanami chuckle quietly. “Sorry, sorry. But, tell me honestly, do you see it too, then?” Hinata’s eyebrows creased a bit at the question, “See what?”  “The way everyone has grown.” A somber atmosphere settled between them at those words. “Yeah. I do.” Hinata cast a small smile at her, which she warmly gave back. She exhaled, as if letting out all her worries in one swift action. Hinata wished it were that easy, but he was more than grateful to see that his friend could allow herself to relax for once. “Well…” she spoke, glancing at each of her classmates, “I’m glad I got to see it, even if I’m not exactly… real.” Hinata stiffened, “What are you saying? Of course you’re real.” His crossed arms let down, hands folding behind his back as his head turned towards Nanami, who idly fidgeted with the cuff of her sweater like a nervous child, “You existed in all of our lives as our friend and you’ll always be our dearest classmate. You’re undoubtedly real to all of us.” His chest ached a bit as he said so, knowing full well about all that Nanami had done for everyone, knowing full well what Nanami means but refusing to truly acknowledge that. He supposed it was a bit selfish of him, to live in a bubble of ignorant bliss when the irony was that he’d been fine with accepting reality every other way. But this way was still too difficult, even for him. “You’re the one who’s been helping Tsumiki with the therapy sessions after all. Helping all of us. There’s no way I could ever forget that.” He felt a knot in his throat that wouldn’t go away no matter how hard he swallowed, strangely enough. Though there was nothing particularly emotional going on unless loud music, friendly banter, and a celebration they’d make sure to remember truly counted. Somehow, he still felt like crying of all things. “Ah… I was trying to keep that a secret… but it’s okay.” She smiled, and Hinata knew that no computer monitor would be able to contain her warmth and kindness. “It’s funny… I guess I’m a bit of an existentialist, even if I don’t quite exist.” Hearing those words, Hinata found himself hesitantly opening and closing his mouth, wanting to refute them; he knew everyone still had their sore spots, but above all he knew how much Nanami had to suffer all this time. Each and every one of them had suffered. But Nanami… she had to watch them gruel through the whole process, every day, even if the others were vile with each other during their first few days of waking up. Even when things felt like they were getting better, someone or another would relapse, and Nanami, without fail, would be there to rescue the deteriorating situation when Hinata had his hands tied. Not knowing how to say it properly, Hinata subconsciously patted the top of the monitor, getting a confused sound from Nanami before awkwardly shoving his hands back into his pockets. “S-sorry… still not quite good at the whole ‘emotions’ thing.” “Mhmm…” She laughed, “Neither are any of us, but that’s fine, Hinata-kun.” Their quiet chat was soon broken by Mioda’s voice on stage, beaming and hopping as she asked everyone to find seats, before bringing out a shoebox with a hole on the lid. According to her, whoever’s name would be drawn from the box would be first up to sing; karaoke was going to be consisting entirely of her favourite songs from anime and video games of her choice, with the singers completely randomized, meaning, it was a matter of luck. Luck. And his thoughts, as always, trailed right back to the Ultimate Lucky Student, who he found with his hands knitted together gracefully as he looked up at his friend on stage with an encouraging smile. Mioda, having caught his attention, all but winked back. Rattling the whole box like a pair of maracas, Mioda eventually picked out a scrap piece of paper from out of the box with her eyes squinted shut, peeking out one eye like a child once it was unfolded. A cattish grin on her lips as she read out the name, “Ibuki picked… Ko-ma-e-da Nagitoooo-chaaaaaaaaaaaan!” Pointing straight at the seemingly unlucky winner, who sat with an expression that changed from his warm smile, to somewhere between giving up and straight up petrification as he slowly stood, getting a handful of cheers from the rest of the class.

Maybe it was the lights, or the way Komaeda was practically glowing as he climbed up on stage, that made him more emotional than usual. Hinata didn’t think often about his feelings, lest they get carried away and become something like infatuation. He wondered, quietly while casting a glance to the computer screen again, if Nanami could analyze and pick up on the storm of emotions whirling in him.

“Okay! So, I’ll only play a song you know, from some anime that we’ve watched together, if you’re cool with that!” Mioda chattered away as she stuck her face into the amp, adjusting frequency levels with enough skill and precision that there wasn’t a second of feedback. Komaeda all but shrugged resignedly, legs stiffly pressed flat together, and hands clasped tightly in what looked like nervous habit… awfully cute, if Hinata could be honest. Mioda stood up, microphone in hand and whispering into Komaeda’s ear, his expression going from anxiety, to surprise, to anxiety again.   “Really?” He looked unamused at whatever she’d said, exasperated even, before he went right back to being nervous, “Mioda-san, you know I can’t sing, I’ll only hurt everyone’s ears,” he’d whispered back with urgency, almost with a bit of shyness, unaware that the mic was picking up on his voice perfectly despite whispering. “You’ll be fiiiine, Nagito-chan! I’ve heard you since before, you’re amazing!” Mioda hugged him from the back and squeezed, while Hinata felt the slightest twinge of jealousy that she got to hear him singing before. “Oh… please don’t say that about tr—” he shook his head, “About me.” He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves, “But if you insist…” Mioda winked at him, pointing a one-hand finger gun at the karaoke machine, the music turning on as she “shot” it. Faintly, he could hear Fuyuhiko curse in disbelief, “How the hell…” before being hushed by Pekoyama. As the lights everywhere else dimmed, Mioda’s voice was heard once more, “Nagito-chan will be singing ‘Song of Truth’ by Do As Infinity!” The sound of the instrumental filled the room, most notably, the sound of a stringed instrument. “The jinghu,” Kamukura supplied, “It’s a Chinese instrument known for it’s unique high-pitch melody.” Hinata supressed a sigh, resisting the urge to whack his forehead (as if it’d do anything but sting) but begrudgingly stored that information in his brain anyway. He tuned out everything, focused on the boy on stage; visibly less nervous, much to Hinata’s relief, though he kept his eyes shut, he could’ve sworn Komaeda peeked and smiled at him before taking a deep breath.

The first few words from him resounded. A melodious hum reverberating from quiet lips, foreign, but sweeter than honey. It’s just as calming of an effect – it’s not overpowering, not really, but the sound has a way of making gears click into place, make the lights seem less glaring, but a softer bloom instead; it made him glow in a manner that’s ethereally… beautiful. Charmingly complimenting the soothing grace carried in each note of his song, and the way his silver eyes would momentarily betray melancholy even in low light.

It trailed goosebumps up Hinata’s arms.

Hinata knew that he wasn’t the only thoroughly mesmerized in the room, but in some ways, he couldn’t be bothered to take his eyes off the boy who’d made a prisoner out of his attention, much like his own heart as he’d begrudgingly learned over time. As he’d learned of the unwavering and pure affection, he accepted it with endearment little by little. Komaeda wasn’t such a bad guy, after all. Misguided, surely, but it wasn’t like they weren’t all at fault for what had transpired. It wasn’t like Hinata didn’t have blood on his own hands, despite taking a different name and form. But at their core, there was no lying about it. They weren’t bad people. There was still time to learn and recover from their pasts. And they had, Hinata was certain that they most definitely overcame their greatest hurdles. And now that the bigger storms were calmed, there was still time to take Komaeda’s hand and show him what it’s like to live without fear; with unconditional… love, was it? Love from himself and their classmates, their friends. It would be okay, so long as they kept living and pushing forward.   Being with Komaeda, growing alongside him, learning and understanding him over the years… it had only affirmed his affections, it had only made him want to stand beside him and help him be happy, just as he had done the same for him on the many nights Hinata would break down.

Hinata listened to the song, not bothering to filter the way the words strike him any longer. He’d simply let his emotions flow knowing he couldn’t push them away quite as easily anymore. He would stop pretending that he wasn’t shamelessly staring, watching the way his expression would crease just slightly at the more difficult lines, at the stronger notes. He would stop pretending that he didn’t notice how Komaeda had started to take care of himself a little more, even if it was out of reluctance. He would stop pretending that he didn’t appreciate how he went out of his way to support his classmates through difficult times and moving past their sins, even if he was still rough around the edges. He would stop pretending that he didn’t care, that he didn’t have feelings for him, as much as a mess they both were. As Komaeda’s song came to a close, the rest of the class broke out in cheers and praise, most of them hollering in surprise at Komaeda’s bit of hidden talent as he stood there like a nervous doe. In the back of his mind, Hinata thought it to be rather timid for someone who’d threatened to blow up five islands, but he felt that he could be cut some slack from all that nonsense. Nothing quite made sense back then, after all, but he was happier to know the real Komaeda. All the while, Hinata felt suddenly overwhelmed with just how empty his lungs felt after everything and rushed out for air as discreetly as possible. Though trying to be inconspicuous, he was sure at least Nanami would have noticed… unless she fell asleep, that is. Nonetheless, Hinata slipped out the front door quietly amidst the chaos, taking in the chilly air in deep breaths as he placed himself on the nearby bench, suddenly taking notice of the ice-skating rink near the ruined beach the others had probably set up. He was sure that the third island wasn’t the cleanest island, rather, it was the one that held the second-most amount of junk right next to the fifth – but all in due time, he supposed, every last one of the islands would be properly cleaned up soon enough now that they were done with the mainland.

After what he guessed was ten minutes, he could very faintly hear Sonia’s voice in a duet with Owari; a surprising but lively combination, and the song seemed to be fairly upbeat even if he couldn’t make out the words. Even so, it warmed his heart. Maybe because he felt like a forty-year old in a twenty-seven-year old’s body, it was like the world moved far too quickly during his youth. There never was much time for him to really be a teenager, if he really thought about it. There was too much going on between the blurred lines of his childhood memories, the bandages, the arguments in the kitchen, all while he pored hours day in and out into his studies for cram school and exams; and then there was Hope’s Peak, and all the pain and frustration and longing to be significant that came with it. It consumed those years, burning them faster than cotton, like his life was nothing more than fodder for entertainment and testing the limits of ground shattering low esteem for a boy who knew no better than to give up his body to some greed-driven scientists, and that if some cruel God was out there taking pleasure out of his hellscape of a life, well… he knew that by the fact that he was still alive meant that he had the last laugh, at least.   The sound of boots crunching in the snow approached from behind, and, lucky him, it was Komaeda with two hot drinks in his hands. “So, this is where you disappeared, huh?” He sat down beside him, shivering a bit at the touch of the frozen bench before handing Hinata his drink, appearing to be the hot tea that Koizumi prepared with Sonia much earlier. “My singing was pretty atrocious, huh?” He laughed softly and glanced towards the fairy lights decorating the posts and fences outside, right before Hinata’s eyes went wide, “What?! No! Of course not, it was amazing, I didn’t even know you could sing that beautifully— I just… needed some air.” Komaeda looked at him with skepticism, though the light bit of pink on his cheeks betrayed otherwise; that biting look of “reserve course student” had been long gone, but he probably still enjoyed lightly jeering on Hinata on a good day. “Hmm… well, if you say so!”

A beat of silence passed between them, with nothing but the gentle lapping sound of the ocean shore, and the muffled music and cheers from within the music venue. Hinata loved moments like this, where even if it was silent, Komaeda’s company never quite felt anything except comfortable. If they were still in the program, undoubtedly, he’d probably beg to differ but… now that he got to know about his favourite side of Komaeda, things were different to say the least. It reminded him of the Komaeda that waited for him to wake up on that otherwise lonely and terrifying day.

“Say, do you think we’ve changed since waking up?” Hinata spoke quietly, as if worried he’d break the solemn atmosphere. Komaeda shifted in his seat, smiling, “Without a doubt, Hinata-kun.”

Hinata looked up to the sky; hoping the clouds would clear soon. It had been a while since he’d seen the stars in their full glory, and even now, there were still days when parts of the sky seemed more purple than blue. Like the sky, they could never completely heal either, but even that was alright. Healing was never a straight path in the first place. “I’m glad you think so too.” “It’s actually funny you mention that, Pekoyama-san and I were talking about the past as well… how much we’ve changed as a class.” Komaeda spoke somberly, watching his expression become something like nostalgic, his breath coming out as visible puffs of hot air at this time of night, “We talked about how we both considered ourselves tools for a greater cause, we never really put much value on our lives until our loved ones would say otherwise with their near-dying breath.” Komaeda paused, lazily rubbing his thumb over the length of his fingers in a half-hearted attempt to keep warm, and smiled. “I always knew she was pleasant and a great symbol of hope to me, but… now that I got to speak with her a little more, she really is a wonderful person… I guess we both had a lot more in common than we thought, huh?” Hinata nodded, quietly scraping, folding, and smoothing the compacted snow with the tip of his boot, as he listened to Komaeda talk his heart out for once, “Ever since that day you brought me out of the warehouse, and every time I would try to hide again, you would be the one to help sever that need to hurt myself. And I…” Komaeda fell silent, taking a shaky breath, making Hinata finally look back at him. His head was lowered to where he couldn’t meet his eyes, the street lights catching the white of the snow and the white of his hair, and Hinata had to all but resist the urge to pull him close and comfort him. “Do you remember the day we were all in the restaurant during a typhoon, Owari-san had taken up a blindfolded eating contest against Nekomaru-kun? Owari-san had won that, and when Saionji-san started to make fun of her, she playfully stuck a pork rib bone covered in sauce on the back of her kimono and it got stuck there like glue.” He smiled meekly at the memory, lifting his head again, “I don’t remember a time since we woke up that we laughed that hard. I probably wasn’t one of the people that laughed too much, I think. Because when we collected ourselves, I’d… broken down already.” The memory from five years prior was vivid, even today. He remembered standing close by the entrance of the restaurant, seeing at least three people doubled over, and Hinata in tears. Even somewhere in his hardened heart at the time, he felt joy. A different kind of warmth, like being together with a family. Feeling a fleeting but all too real spark of happiness. That joy was short lived when the reality started to set in. That sweet happiness had a rather bitter aftertaste when that single thought crossed his mind.

I tried to murder these people.

Overwhelmed by guilt, by frustration, his knees buckled as if the weight of his actions suddenly took a heavy toll on him, and before he could understand what was happening or how he was really feeling, he began sobbing like a child. Everything he had tried to do in the program was what he had known to do since the start, since the beginning of his life, in order to counter his luck and find the one thing that could defy it – hope. And yet, it was all wrong. If it weren’t for Hinata, then they wouldn’t be here, laughing, crying, creating a new life together because they were forced into a life or death game at the prime of their youth, when they should have been trying to find a way out. He was the one to tip the scale, he was the one to spark the fuse when it didn’t need to; at the cost of his own life, it was fine, but now when he looked at the others, he felt a tightness in his chest. He always despised dirty tricks, and he never was a good liar. Yet, he found that he did nothing but cause calamity. It suddenly felt clear as day how wrong he was, even if it was his means of surviving all throughout his childhood; what good was that when he was there to merely throw away his life? How selfish of him to play some sacrificial God and right their wrongs when, as Hinata had said that there was always, always another way out that didn’t have to have them suffer. So Komaeda cried. He cried like someone truly had died, crying out apologies over and over to no one in particular, like the child who had seen his parents get killed before his eyes once more, traumatized again and again like a pearl in its shell. And just as imperfect. He realized what he was trying to destroy for an ideal world when a world like that never existed, it was simply the imperfect yet endearing reality before him. And that, if this is how reality is today, then Hinata truly had forgiven him, and not out of reluctance – and he knew that he’d accepted Hinata as well. Amongst all this, not even realizing when Sonia, Hinata, Koizumi, Nekomaru, and his other classmates had knelt beside him, confused and apprehensive but still kind in the gesture alone. To comfort him of all people. They weren’t close, and yet… somehow, he felt that they could understand his regret and frustration. After all, they carried their own mistakes as well.

Somehow, Komaeda had to make it up to them one day and gain their trust, even if he wasn’t worthy of it. But for now, things were fine as they are. He was… happy, with the way things now are. Hinata exhaled, finally bundling up that bit of courage and letting his hand rest on the other’s shoulder and squeezed lightly; he wouldn’t admit nor deny the fact that he likely moved a few inches closer, not that it really mattered. “If I can be honest, I was wrong about you. You’ve… grown a lot since before.” he said, sticking out his legs to stretch only to hear his knees pop embarrassingly loud. Joint pain in your mid-twenties was a different kind of hell, altogether, and his timing was impeccable. “S-sorry, that was—” He cleared his throat, only for Komaeda to give an understanding nod. “Anyway, I’m glad that you don’t see yourself that way anymore. I’m glad that you gave everyone a chance, and most importantly, yourself.” Hinata’s voice softened, something like affection and pride welling in him.   “I don’t want you to have to worry about your luck, or your health. After all, his luck will balance it out and… with how your treatment has been going successfully, I think we’ll be okay.” Hinata tried to ignore the way Komaeda quirked his eyebrow at the way he referred to Kamukura, but everyone and their mother probably knew about that complicated internal conflict already, “Kamukura and the others have been trying really hard and if they come out with a breakthrough. It’d be huge not only for us, but for anyone else affected similarly.” “Us…?” Komaeda hung onto that word, feeling a tightness in his chest. Hinata floundered to cover his embarrassment, but all the other boy did was laugh it off delicately. And in one graceful motion, he stood up, boots crunching in the snow as he took Hinata’s wrist in tow behind him. A small grin rested on his face as he tugged Hinata, who followed without much question, to the ice rink. Hinata stretched slightly after sitting for so long, carefully glancing between the ice rink and Komaeda, not quite enjoying the implication of him looking so lost in thought. “So, Hinata-kun, how badly do you think it’d end if we tried skating with snow boots on?” “Huh…” Hinata looked back at the other looking mildly impressed, “Look at you, taking risks for once in your life. I don’t know how to skate.” “Neither do I!” he joyfully replied, as if that were any more reassuring, “And as if me living and breathing isn’t already a risk,” Komaeda retorted, albeit those words were more playful than morbid, “Besides, if we fall through thin ice and end up with hypothermia, I could very well blame Kamukura-kun’s luck, couldn’t I?” he laughed, sticking a foot out at the edge of the rink to test just how slippery .   Hinata grinned something mischievous, and at that, he took hold of Komaeda’s shoulders and shoved themselves out into the ice, both of them speedily spinning out of control for a moment while gripping onto each other’s arms for safety across the makeshift rink, like there was nothing but melting butter beneath their feet. Or, well, ice really would be close enough. Immediate regret, if their cries of panic were anything to go by; it wasn’t one of Hinata’s brighter ideas, but he’d be lying if he said this wasn’t fun either. It was rather surprising with how their balance, or rather, lack of it, didn’t get them killed was a mystery as they found themselves twisting and slipping in every direction. Komaeda eventually crashed into the pile of fresh snow, having given up on a graceful landing, with Hinata following closely and just barely crushing him – instead, he’d landed on the man’s prosthetic arm on his stomach, cursing as he did. Though the slight adrenaline was still running through him, Hinata immediately pried himself off the snow, worriedly taking hold of Komaeda’s arm to check it for any damage and babbling, “I-I’m so sorry, are you hurt? I didn’t mean for things to get that crazy…” He didn’t look back at Komaeda, feeling too embarrassed for practically crushing his arm in a stunt, and instead pulled the hand closer to his face, furrowing his eyebrows and inspecting between the metal joints and slender fingers that weren’t quite unlike Komaeda’s real hand. He wasn’t quick to notice that he was far from being in pain either, rather the silent realization that he had been holding his hand rather intimately hit him like a truck, heat pooling in his cheeks for reasons beyond the chilly weather. “Don’t… worry about it, I’m absolutely fine.” He smiled it off, watching Hinata give it one last wary eye to the prosthetic and back to Komaeda, before setting the arm down. Hinata sat looking down at the other lying in the snow, who had by then closed his eyes and breathing slowly, stretching his arms far out as if he was making the slenderest snow angel the world had ever seen or hugging the wide-open night sky. With a heaving breath and an endearing gaze, Hinata broke the silence, “I had my doubts, but… you really are still Komaeda Nagito.” Komaeda’s eyes slowly opened again at those words, “What do you mean?” “I mean that the boy I met at the beginning of the program, the boy I met at the end of the first trial, and the man I know now… they’re all the same.” Hinata’s voice felt a little tired from all the yelling, but he continued anyway, “I was scared that, I would never be able to see the kind-hearted friend I made at the very start ever again. One of my first friends, who I felt, at the time… betrayed me.” Hinata paused, catching the slight wince on Komaeda’s face. Though they were Komaeda’s contrived and warped ideals back then, he too was probably shaken by Hinata’s revelation as well… and now, somehow, it made sense when he started to piece together his luck cycle, his absolute dependency on hope, his desire for escapism from such a hellish fate and to merely live a normal life. And how ironic it was that they had the lives that each other yearned for. “But every good and bad thing about you, it was still always you, but… you’ve been able to overcome your fears, your shortcomings, with patience.” Hinata felt his heart picking up the pace, but smiled to cover his nervousness, “I guess it just means I can like you more now. Not that I could bring myself to hate you in the first place.” Komaeda pushed himself upright on his elbows, tucking in his knees and drawing his lips into the slightest smile, “Was that supposed to be some sort of confession?” Hinata scoffed, “Sure. But you think I’d give a half-hearted confession like that? Who do you think I am, some untalented reserve course student?” Hinata give a weak shove to Komaeda’s shoulder, to which he just laughed off. With his hair dusted with the sparkling white snowflakes like glitter, it became clear that Komaeda’s peachy hair had started to grow back, overtaking the lifeless white mid-length; and yet despite the healthier contrast against the snow, he didn’t look any less angelic. As Komaeda got up off his elbows, shaking the snowflakes and water droplets off the tips of his hair and jacket hood, Hinata caught himself wondering how everyone at the party was doing. When he cast a glance towards the music hall, he could faintly hear the voices of Souda and… what he could’ve sworn was Kuzuryuu, of all people, singing along. Komaeda laughed something short and sweet, catching the same drift as Hinata and the latter shaking his head in disbelief and amusement. Hinata’s attention was drawn away when Komaeda cleared his throat, “So what about you, then? You’re always looking after everyone else, so it’s only fair I ask about you, isn’t it?” Hinata’s chest tightened. “I’m fine, honestly. I’m just glad that everyone can take a break and focus on getting themselves better, since we’re done with the Future Foundation for the most part, you know?” He shifted in place, casting another glance at the sky and seeing a handful of stars peek through at long last. There was always a part of him that also wanted to hide behind the clouds when he didn’t want to face the world. “In that case, you can take it easy.” “I… really don’t want to hear that from you of all people, but…” Hinata held his breath for a moment, feeling the constraints holding his emotions in starting to falter, starting to feel even more tired, “No. It’s not enough.” The words that left him hitched at his voice.  He had to be much stronger than that. “I haven’t done enough to make up for the damage I’ve caused. It’ll… it will never be enough.” Emotion flickered across Komaeda’s face, and Hinata hoped it wasn’t pity. “I see…” He spoke, huffing out whatever potential biting remark he had to say. Though instinctively, Hinata felt passive anyways. Instead what came out was the simple phrase he’d heard many times before, “Is that really the extent of your hope, Hinata-kun?” He had heard it so many times before; accusatory, disappointment cutting deep and nestled within those words – the words he heard during trials, like some sort of test that both drove him to the answer and drove him insane with irritation. Knowing, hearing, the incompetency he’d always treated himself with being thrown back at him by a mere stranger the moment he felt like giving up. Even if it was strangely motivating. Except this time, it was different. When Hinata met the calm grey of Komaeda’s eyes, there was no bite or disgust, his words alone were quiet, careful, almost like a genuine question and not the condescending tone he’d thrown on him and the others during the program. He knew it wasn’t a taunt. It couldn’t be. “You know… I thought I should’ve despised you when I found the truth. I knew you should’ve despised me with every fiber of your being. But I don’t think you did, not after seeing how you’re still so kind to someone like me. And it’s because of you that I have a new hope.” Komaeda reached out, holding the tips of Hinata’s cold fingers with his own freezing hands, just as he had all those years ago. “You’ve worked hard enough, Hinata-kun.” Those words were so simple. And so powerful.   “You can rest now too. I’m proud of you, you know that?” Hinata felt like his heart stopped and started again at double speed. He felt like the lump in his throat just wouldn’t fade. The same one he’d felt earlier threatening to push him over. Neither would the pain crushing his chest keep it from feeling like it was difficult to breathe. Hearing the same words of reassurance he’d given to the rest of his classmates, time and time again, being returned to him by Komaeda of all people… somehow that struck him with a different kind of joy when he thought about how far they’ve come. Somehow that struck him with a different kind of grief, when he realized that he was just as damaged as they were. He was taking the brute force of the impact, after all, wasn’t he? He was allowed to cry, he was allowed to mourn, he was allowed to feel frustrated for the trauma they’d gone through watching their friends die, having to inspect their cold bodies and petrified and bloodied faces, having to prosecute the killer whom they considered a friend and standby to watch them be killed, and come back to the reality that they had caused so much suffering in the real world. He was allowed to feel remorseful. But he had just this moment, and the many more to come, to take a few steps back and try again. And he knew, that before anything else, over the years he had the chance to create a new life alongside his classmates – and the fact that Komaeda held him silently as he cried, not unlike the way Komaeda did all those years back. For that while that they sat there on the frozen ground surrounded by pristine white snow, there wasn’t a sound in the air but the quiet hum of a song that Hinata could already feel vibrating through his chest, all until his sobs quietened to a single hiccup. Undoubtedly, it filled him with that same feeling of peace and courage that he felt was strongest when he was by Komaeda’s side, watching him grow as his charming friend, as his kind-hearted classmate, and simply someone he’d come to care about more than he thought he’d like to admit. But it felt like, now, it really wasn’t such a bad thing to admit. He knew how Hinata had been carrying their burden wordlessly until now, watching him over the years and letting Hinata take his time, and the fact that, truthfully, Komaeda’s arms felt like the safest place in the world; Hinata knew he loved him, and though it wasn’t an easy road, he couldn’t say that it wasn’t worth it even if he wished there was an easier path there.   “Komaeda…?” “Yes?” “I know you’re not stupid.” Hinata’s voice was only slightly muffled, buried in Komaeda’s shoulder, while his chest and face burned, “You were the first one to figure out the cases and help me even if I was slow. Even if you admittedly made it a bit harder and… I hadn’t treated you properly back then.” Hinata slowed his breathing a little, to catch his words, to catch his breath, to demand his heart to stop ricocheting off the walls of his ribcage, “So, you know then, how I feel about you. I meant it the first time I said it earlier.” For the second Komaeda’s grip loosened, Hinata felt his heart drop – only for him to tighten his embrace even more so, “What, that you’ve been flirting with me for the past five or six years?” He spoke with a devious grin, relishing the way the panic on Hinata’s face became more evident by the second. Komaeda laughed, “I mean, you pick up a thing or two in therapy, especially once you start to learn about the people around you. Since I’m not really good at these things, everyone was pretty helpful when I tried to figure it all out! Well, talking with others in a way that didn’t weird them out was never quite easy for me, and I guess I still am a bit awkward but… in some ways, I’ve gotten a better idea of what I should say.” Komaeda kindly ignored the shell-shocked expression Hinata wore at his revelation, albeit he found it amusing, and let that beat of silence pass peacefully. With hope in his grasp, in his arms. He takes another breath in, the same cold air, the same air that Hinata held with bated breath merely moments ago, loosely wrapping his arms around his waist and resting his forehead on his shoulder as he spoke, “I have always loved you, even when I tried not to. And I meant it the first time I said it, too… in the program, that is.” He pulled away, with a determined look, and the lightest hint of a smile on his face. And that was when Hinata saw confidence in his eyes, in his words, for the first time. The same Komaeda that was his very first friend on the island. The same Komaeda that had broken his trust. The same Komaeda that learned how to live again, who makes Hinata want to live, not just survive, by his side.   “Even now, I still love you. These words… I know they—? I know they seem heavy but, trust me when I say that I’ve thought about it more times than I’d… like to admit.” Komaeda cast his gaze away, that confidence slightly wavering, only for Hinata to laugh inwardly and gently bump their foreheads together in endearment. Whatever made it easier for him to express his feelings, he had come this far at least was more than enough. “…That is, if you’re okay with someone like me. If you’re okay with me being the way I am.”

A genuine smile, warm and gentle and loving despite the cold, rested on Hinata’s lips. “What better time than right now?”

[razorblade180]

So an idea popped in my head...

Sup everyone! I’m gonna take you on a little journey of my practically instant (And wild) head canon on what I would love to see in Volume 7. I’m just gonna say my ideas are still pretty rough but I thought I’d share it before the next episode tears it to shreds. Let the madness begin.

Adam’s fate:

For any of this to really happen we have to start with what could happen to Adam in Vol6. We get an amazing battle with Blake and Yang fighting him where in classic anime fashion the heroes keep yelling at the villain to just give up; Adam doesn’t listen and continues to go into detail about his past a little. (just to peak our interest and gain some sort of emotion from the heroes) Eventually, Adam is knocked out of aura and pinned down waiting for the final blow; they never deliver it. Adam screams at them to finish him off and once again Yang delivers a short little speech about that killing him would only make her more like him; while Blake says once again that he doesn’t have to be this way. For the first time ever those words make him waver; his anger still brightly burning but now that seed of doubt has been planted. The possibility that things actually don’t have to be this way and let go. (For those hating redemption Adam just keep reading.) In a fit of frustration he unexpectedly grabs his sword and slices the bridge they are on; Yang and Blake watch in disbelief as the side he stands on falls(beauty and the beast reference) below into the river as he just looks at them with his will to fight him gone. Blake sees the Adam she once knew as her master get washed away believing that he is dead.

Post credits:

Adam wakes up severely wounded and surprised he is alive. The camera then pans to Cinder and Neo with Cinder telling Adam how she has unfinished business with him.

Now we’re in Vol7

Compliance:

Cinder tells Adam her plan and how he could get revenge not just for his loss, but on the company that branded his face. Adam refuses; not only is he steadily becoming unsure of what he wants to do next but he also knows getting mixed up with her never goes well. Cinder doesn’t take no for an answer. With her maiden powers and Adam in bad shape, he reluctantly agrees knowing it’s his only option besides death. Being forced to do things he doesn’t want to by her again isn’t really doing him any favors mentally; it’s only after Cinder walks off that Neo in her own way leads on about a plan to screw Cinder over. He’s not sure what but in the meantime they will both bide their time; heading to Atlas with Cinder once they are ready.

Arrival:

Ruby and company get to Atlas finally. I’m sure we’ll get insight on then talking to James, Winter, and possibly the rest of Weiss’s family. Eventually one of them is spotted by Watts and he also happens to catch wind of Cinder. He decides to call Salem to ask how to proceed.

Defecting:

Emerald and Mercury are still contemplating Tyrians words and own personal thoughts when Emerald over hears Watts’s message and learns where Cinder is. Still believing that she cares about her, Emerald tries to convince Mercury that they should go to Atlas to help her. Emerald is reminded that they have specific orders not to go after her and how Salem won’t just forgive such an act of defiance so easily. With persistent words Mercury finally caves in and him and Emerald sneak out from Salem’s domain; she soon realizes this and sends Hazel to go fetch them. He is hesitant to go after the kids knowing there would be hell to pay when he returns them. He’s not about to upset Salem again though and heads to Atlas to get them.

Cracks in the foundation:

Neo goes off in Atlas alone for awhile. Cinder doesn’t really care as long as she doesn’t do anything stupid. Neo is going off to find the winter maiden based of the knowledge Cinder has told her. Cinder has no clue about this or the fact Neo is planning on taking her and Ruby out when she gets the power. Adam continues to deal with his internal conflict along with the added pressure of being in Atlas. He begins wrestling over the idea of that maybe this hatred towards everything doesn’t have to be so one tracked. He’s a survivor, an avenger of his own pride. No one is going to control his life again; Adam bides his time for the chance to do things his own way.

Plotting:

It’s basically known all over Atlas Weiss is back and she’s sort of out into a position to attend some sort of gathering to create ease among the public. The villains use this information to form their plans. It’s a perfect time for Watts and Tyrian to kill James at this event; it’s less gaurded then any fortress. Cinder is banking on the rest of the Schnee’s team being around; prime time to single out Ruby. While plotting Emerald and Mercury finally find Cinder. Surprised, Cinder is more than welcome to have people do her dirty work and get back into Salem’s good graces. Emerald doesn’t tell her that Mercury and her basically defected. Neo’s plan just got more complicated.

Party time:

I’d imagine a lot of emotional things have been happening to Weiss in this volume and maybe even some family growth (I really want happy schneeblings) so this party is just a nice way to unwind with her team. Until....

Party crashers:

Cinder and company are first to arrive to spoil the fun. Everyone is surprised she’s alive. Yang and Blake are shocked to see Adam while he himself didn’t really register that he’d ever see them again. No words are exchanged, just silent stares that speak louder than words. “Does this have to happen again? Is this fight not over?” Questions that once only plagued their minds now plague his; questions that will soon have answers. Before any true chaos starts Watts and Tyrian make their entrance; shocked to see Mercury and Emerald. This reaction puzzles Cinder, “how would they not know they came here?” Surly Salem would’ve informed them about their departure. It’s only then Hazel arrives to reveal to everyone that the two have gone rouge.

Lines in the sand:

With the truth out Cinder awaits to hear the meaning of this nonsense. Emerald confesses to her they left for her; that she believes things were better before the fall of Beacon. When they were running things their own way together. Cinder tells the girl off and just before she’s able to blast her, Mercury takes the surprise hit. Cinder starts to make it painfully clear that there was no “together” just steppingstones in her quest for power given by Salem. As she summons her sword to put an end to the madness Adam jumps in to block it. He already had an axe to grind with Cinder, knowing how fast she was to kill such a devoted member to her was all the proof he needed that he’d be a goner if he stayed any longer. Completely over all the betrayal, Cinder unleashes a powerful fire blast; when suddenly the unthinkable happens. Thinking that now is as good as a time as any, Neo freezes the attack. Neo reveals she’s a maiden.

Common Enemy:

Many emotions have now reached their peak through these reveals. With a room filled a grudges everywhere one thing was mentally agreed on. The immediate threat to everyone was team WTCH. Thus begins the real fight for preservation. Even though Cinder hasn’t truly been welcomed back it’s clear to see she is loyal to Salem; and right now that is all that matters.

The Fights:

Hazel finds himself up against against Oscar once again. It is not long before Blake and Yang block his path. Not truly going up against him before though they are surprised by his power. In a twist of fate Adam jumps in to help turn the tides. After Blake takes a bad hit from protecting Oscar, it’s up to Yang and Adam to tackle this beast. Grudges will have to take a back seat if they want to win (maybe he’ll even save her life once just to make things even). Watts vs Weiss, Nora, and Ren; we don’t know much about him but I’d imagine with all the possible gadgets and the chance that a Schnee has screwed over his funding that this could be interesting. Deep in Jaune’s soul he wants a rematch with Cinder but knows that isn’t a good idea (growth) so instead he ends up teaming up with Qrow and Mercury to fight Tyrian. They all have a score to settle with this madman and he’ll enjoy the challenge. Finally, we have Neo and Ruby ready to put Cinder in her place. It doesn’t go good for them though since Ruby isn’t used to her abilities and same goes with Neo; the tide turns though when Emerald snaps out of her shock and is ready to take on Cinder.

Retreat:

These battles were grand and by no means quiet. Ironwood, finally being to call for back up has many troops heading to their location for aid. Team WTCH has no choice but to retreat while the madness of crowds and the crumbling building ensue; with people in despair and even more distrust caused in Atlas as a whole, this will insure anymore moves the general makes will be extremely slow. That alone forwards Salem’s plans nicely; especially if this problem is enough to demote Ironwood.

Team MEAN

With the immediate threat gone Mercury grabs Emerald and tries to leave. Before anyone can stop them an ice wall blocks the way where you can see Neo and Adam on the other side; the four new allies stare back at heroes for a moment. Ruby can tell from Neo that their gonna meet again to settle a score, the look in the others convey different messages though. Emerald and Mercury state at her not with malice exactly but there’s no care either; just acknowledgement that things are different, they are playing by their rules now. Adam once again stare at his two thorn in his sides; this time is different though too. He doesn’t stare at Yang with spite in his eyes or Vengeance for Blake; they just look at each other. The past is behind them; from here on out if they don’t step on his toes then he won’t step in theirs. With these exchange of looks, they vanish before any troops can follow them.

Amongst the chaos: Team RWBY has survived another round with Salem’s people thanks to some unlikely help. With all the struggles Atlas is going through to help where they can. This should be the easy part; little did they know yet this stalemate was actually a loss.

Post Credits:

Team MEAN wonders through the forest trying to make back to airship Mercury and Emerald snuck in with. They wonder what’s next for them now that none of them have any place to go. A unfamiliar voice tells them they aren’t out of luck yet. They look around to to simply see Neo with something....unexpected in her possession. The camera pans up to see her twirling the relic of creation in her hands and shows her chuckle mischievously; curtesy of of the new voice she has created for herself. The battle of good and evil just got a third team in the fray. Only time will tell what side they’ll play for.

That’s it! I’m finished! This took me like hours to come up with but days to write. If you read all of this then you’re a trooper and I look forward to reading your comments. (To think this all happened cause the recent episode was a cliffhanger)

[phantom-howl]

I hope you don't mind I took a couple cracks at this…

In order:

Chaos (OC, True Form) and Baka (OC)

Danny Phantom and Sam Manson

Edd and Tom (SuperEdd Timeline)

Tom and Tord (Thrown Together AU)

Future!Neo and Future!Matt (OCs)

twitter loved this one so anyway here's one of my fave ship dynamics

[nightmareonfilmstreet]

10 Movies We Can’t Wait To See At This Year’s Fantasia Film Festival

Ladies and Gentlemen, the 22nd Internation Fantasia Film Festival is upon us! This year’s lineup boasts from heavy hitters, including the World Premieres of Robert D. Krzykowski’s The Man Who Killed Hitler and then Bigfoot starring the legendary Sam Ellitot and Nightmare Cinema, directed by Mick Garris, Alejandro Brugués, Ryuhei Kitamura, David Slade and Joe Dante (who will also be recieving a lifetime achievement award). Also peremiering at the festival is David Robert Mitchell’s highly anticipted follow-up to It Follows, the neo noir Under The Silver Lake, the Spike Lee produced Tales From The Hood 2, and Dennison Ramalho’s (The ABC’s of Death) feature film debut, Among The Living.

There is no shortage of incredible, must-see films in this year’s lineup and it promises to be other banner year for genre film. The Fantasia Film Festival run from July 12th – August 1st in the heart of Montreal. Tickets are on sale now and can be purchased HERE.

Below are 10 movies that ewe can’t wait to see at this year’s Fantasia FIlm Festival. If you are going to be in attendance at the festival, let us know what your looking forward to seeeing in the comments below, on Twitter, Instagram, Reddit, and in the Horror Fiends of Nightmare on Film Street Facebook group!

    Mandy 

    Director: Pananos Cosmatos Writter: Pananos Cosmatos, Aaron Stewart-Ahn Cast: Nicolas Cage, Andrea Riseborough, Linus Roache, Bill Duke, Ricard Brake

“The peaceful existence of Red Miller (Nicolas Cage) in the Shadow Mountains of 1983 is burned to the ground when a deranged religious sect fixates on Mandy (Andrea Riseborough), the love of his life and, as is soon made very evident, a significant grounding force in his universe. Things deteriorate into a tranced-out nightmare of insect venom, hard drugs and broken-minded delirium as Red journeys into hell in order to avenge the woman he once lived for. Blood will flow in rivers. Worlds will collapse unto themselves.”

    Nightmare Cinema

    Director: Alejandro Brugués, Joe Dante, Mick Garris, Ryuhei Kitamura, David Slade Writer: Sandra Becerril, Alejandro Brugués, Lawrence C. Connolly, Mick Garris, Richard Christian Matheson, David Slade Cast: Maurice Benard, Richard Chamberlain, Annabeth Gish, Elizabeth Reaser, Mickey Rourke

“At a forgotten, haunted bijou, a group of strangers have assembled to watch a series of macabre vignettes unspooled by the mysterious Projectionist (Mickey Rourke). Like the best anthology films (DEAD OF NIGHT, CREEPSHOW, TRICK ‘R TREAT), the stories’ tones range from truly deep, dark, psychological, demented horror to ones with a lighter, satirical spin. Witness a ghost story that will chill you to the bone; an exorcism story guaranteed to make your head spin; a B&W descent into clinical madness; a plastic surgery gone horrifyingly awry; and a cabin-in-the-woods slasher ditty with a unique twist you’ll never see coming.”

    Under the Silver Lake

    Director: David Robert Mitchell Writer: David Robert Mitchell Cast: Andrew Garfield, Topher Grace, Riley Keough, Zosia Mamet

“Silver Lake, Los Angeles. The city of angels. The dream factory where it’s all too easy to lose contact grasp of Earth and see nothing but stars… Take for example Sam (Andrew Garfield), a prototypical slacker in his mid-thirties, without ambition… though he does have an unpredictable temperament, a penchant for voyeurism, and an unhealthy obsession with pop culture. When a mysterious neighbor (Riley Keough) appears in the sights of his binoculars, then disappears overnight without a trace, the first-class geek cannot help but investigate – possessed, somehow, by the eternal spirit of the countless detectives who stalked the hot asphalt of LA before him. But a Bogart he is not. Sam’s unorthodox methods very quickly leave him confounded; through the looking glass and into the heart of a strange city where dog killers, owl-women, aspiring actresses and gurus rub shoulders, among other high-society demiurges pulling the strings of an entire culture…”

    Terrified

  Director: Demián Rugna Writer: Demián Rugna Cast: Ariel Chavarría, Maximiliano Ghione, Norberto Gonzalo, Elvira Onetto

“The lives of three neighbours in Argentina are turned upside down following a series of violent deaths in the area. For retiring inspector Funes, what was supposed to be an easy case suddenly takes a strange turn and he finds himself dealing with more than he can handle. Paranormal experts are brought in to assist in investigating what they believe to be haunted houses, where they will be tested by an evil the likes of which they have never encountered. As the night goes on and chaos is unleashed upon them, nothing, and no one, can be trusted.”

    Tales From The Hood 2

    Directed: Darin Scott, Rusty Cundieff Writer: Darin Scott, Rusty Cundieff Cast: Keith David, Alexandria DeBerry, Bill Martin Williams, Bryan Batt, Lou Beatty Jr., Martin Bradford, Kendrick Cross

“Horror is back in the hood! The sequel to the groundbreaking original film TALES FROM THE HOOD reunites executive producer Spike Lee (Honorary Academy Award® winner) and writers/directors/producers Rusty Cundieff and Darin Scott for an all-new gripping, horrifying and oftentimes devilishly comical anthology. Keith David stars as a contemporary Mr. Simms to tell bloodcurdling stories about lust, greed, pride and politics through tales with demonic dolls, possessed psychics, vengeful vixens and historical ghosts. Mr. Simms’s haunting stories will make you laugh… while you scream.“

    The Witch In The Window

    Director: Andy Mitton Writer: Andy Mitton Cast: Arija Bareikis, Alex Draper, Greg Naughton, Carol Stanzione, Charlie Tacker

“Divorced dad Simon (Alex Draper) brings his 12-year-old son, Finn (Charlie Tacker) out to Vermont to help him renovate an old house he recently purchased. Used to the speed of New York City, Finn has an impossible time slowing down to a smalltown pace, and he’s disappointed before even getting there. So is Simon (“I guess I was hoping I would catch you on the 12 side of 12, instead of the 13 side of 12”). Afflicted with a rare medical condition in which there’s a literal hole in his heart, Simon, ever resourceful, does what he can to make things good as he and his son attempt to repair what’s broken. Soon, a series of nonsensically terrifying happenings occur, nightmarish and incomprehensible. It becomes clear that they aren’t alone in the house. That there is more work to be done than either could be capable of grasping. That death is a partially living state. And that they are in a very special kind of danger.“

  The Dark

    Director: Justin P. Lange Writer: Justin P. Lange Cast: Nadia Alexander, Karl Markovics, Toby Nichols

“Once upon a dark, dark time, there was a girl, lonely, undead and bloodthirsty. Behind her a dark, dark past – a curse. Hidden in the dark, dark woods, she tirelessly haunts her childhood home. Mina (Nadia Alexander) is a damaged soul, and tears to pieces anyone who dares enter her hunting ground. When she meets Alex (Toby Nichols), a disfigured and blind boy, brought to her by mysterious circumstances, her animalistic cannibal instincts seem to strangely fade away. As this uncanny friendship grows, little by little, both of these lost children learn how to reach out to the hints of light left within.”

    Cold Skin

    Director: Xavier Gens Writer: Jesus Olmo, Eron Sheean Cast: Aura Garrido, David Oakes, Ray Stevenson

“In the early years of the 20th century, a young man (David Oakes) takes over the responsibility of surveying the weather of a secluded island in the Antarctic. Hoping for isolation and time for self-reflection, he instead finds a crazed and weathered person named Gruner, played by genre favourite Ray Stevenson (DEXTER, THOR, DIVERGENT). Gruner quickly reveals that there is more to this island than meets the eye and that below the icy depths, a terrible scourge lurks. The extent of Gruner’s madness slowly becomes more and more pronounced as his bloodlust for the creatures becomes apparent. Struggling for survival, the surveyor must choose between a madman and a legion of creatures he does not fully understand.”

    Heavy Trip

    Director: Juuso Laatio, Jukka Vidgren Writer: Juuso Laatio, Jari Olavi Rantala, Aleksi Puranen, Jukka Vidgren Cast: Johannes Holopainen, Minka Kuustonen, Ville Tiihonen

“Life has its downsides in a small, northern Finnish town. The local bros give long-haired, leather-clad Turo a tough time, and his job at the mental hospital is literally shitty. His crush on Miia at the flower shop is thwarted by the tacky lounge singer Jouni, and his band jams in the back of a reindeer slaughterhouse. In the plus column for Turo, well… there’s the band, even if these black-metal true-believers have never gigged in all their 12 years together (Turo’s concealed but crippling stage fright hasn’t helped). A miraculous crack at a major metal festival in Norway jumpstarts the quartet’s dreams, and Impaled Rektum set out on a metallic mission that will make them confront not only doubts, detours and difficulties, but also Vikings in longships (plus an elf), graverobbing, Swedish rocket launchers and wolverine-wrestling (dangerous… and awkward!).“

    Dans La Brume

    Director: Daniel Roby Writer: Guillaume Lemans, Jimmy Bemon, Mathieu Delozier Cast: Romain Duris, Olga Kurylenko, Fantine Harduin, Michel Robin, Anne Gaylor

“Mathieu (Romain Duris, DE BATTRE MON COEUR S’EST ARRÊTÉ) and Anna (Olga Kurylenko, QUANTUM OF SOLACE) are the parents of a girl (Fantine Harduin, HAPPY END) who suffers from a genetic disorder forcing her to live in a hermetic box that filters the air. This already vulnerable existence becomes even more precarious on the day Paris is hit by an earthquake, and then filled with a mysterious toxic gas that seems to come from below ground. Only those hiding on the higher floors and rooftops of buildings survive, but they are left stranded, without any resources. Wanting to check that their daughter remains safe in her “bubble”, Mathieu and Anna will have to face the fog.”

    The Man Who Killed Hitler And Then Bigfoot

    Director: Robert Krzykowski Writer: Robert Krzykowski Cast: Sam Elliott, Caitlin FitzGerald, Ron Livingston, Aidan Turner

‘The year is 1987. Calvin Barr (a too-great-for-words Sam Elliott) is not a violent man. But he is more than capable of violence if sufficiently provoked. What many don’t realize about the thoughtful, elderly bloke regularly seen at the neighbourhood tavern is that he’s a legendary WW2 veteran who many years ago assassinated Adolf Hitler, an incredible secret that he’s frustratingly unable to share. One day, just as he’s coming to terms with rounding out his life, Calvin gets a visit from the FBI and the RCMP. They know what he’s done, and what he can be capable of. They have a mission for him. After discovering that it harbours a disease capable of eradicating humanity… they need him to take out Bigfoot.”

  Will you be in the Montreal area the next few weeks? Are you planning on seeing any movies at the 2018 Fantasia Film Festival? If so, let us know in the comments below, on Twitter, Instagram, Reddit, and in the Horror Fiends of Nightmare on Film Street Facebook group!

    The post 10 Movies We Can’t Wait To See At This Year’s Fantasia Film Festival appeared first on Nightmare on Film Street - Horror Movie Podcast, News and Reviews.

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[girlonfilmmovies]

The Top 25 Films of 2019

25: Shadow (dir. Zhang Yimou)

"Without the real, there can be no shadow. A principle no one's understood."

After a string of terrible films trying to play to Hollywood audiences, Zhang Yimou manages to successfully return to the goldmine he stuck in the early 2000s and craft another absolutely gorgeous wuxia. Here he swaps out the poetic, colorful beauty in favor of monochromatic, surprisingly violent tone poem about deceit. It ultimately works against it, as by the seventh or eighth double cross you kind of just give up trying to figure out who's on what side, but the main action setpiece is so wonderful it deserves a spot for that alone. Hopefully a good sign for Yimou's future, as long as we don't have another nationalist war epic that somehow inexplicably also has a white savior narrative too.

24: Climax (dir. Gaspar Noé)

"...something's kicking in..."

Noe takes us for another plunge into the dark, twisted, vomit-inducing, neon-lit hellscape that is his mind and at least has the common courtesy to put the pleasant parts upfront this time. While it will eventually devolve into the same type of chaos that we all love/hate from him, the first act is kind of a wonderful departure from him. He basically accidently makes a musical for a while, with wonderful and deeply intricate dance choreography as well as a fantastic extended sequence where every character jumps in and out of frame and gets a chance to strut their stuff. That movie would have been a strong top five contender, but alas, the man has his particular quirks that he must abide by. But at least he also strung together probably the best soundtrack and sound design of the year, with the fantastic EDM bangers rumbling through the walls throughout the entirety of the film.

23: Long Shot (dir. Jonathon Levine)

"Oohhh boooy!"

Charlize Theron and Seth Rogen doing a political comedy that manages to be both smart and extremely funny seems like a long shot indeed, but Johnathon Levine finally strikes gold again after a number of disappointing duds. He manages to make a pretty good story about how navigating the political minefield destroys what little hope and dreams high level politicians still manage to have, but then he also happens to make it all absolutely hilarious too. Theron demonstrates a surprisingly strong comic game too, easily matching all the other talent and cracking jokes along with them. It ends up being a charming romance where the woman takes charge in a very pleasant change of pace. And if nothing else, the way Seth Rogen yells "oh boy" in that video is always going to make me laugh no matter what.

22: 6 Underground (dir. Michael Bay)

"Ghosts have one power above all others: to haunt the living. Haunt them... for what they've done."

Theoretical question: what say Netflix gave Michael Bay a blank check and no restrictions, and he turned in the most overblown, dialed to eleven, nonsensical spectacle that he ever crafted and was allowed to put it into almost every American home for free? Now what if I told you that it was actually kind of awesome? Sure, it's basically a child playing with his $150 million dollar GI Joe set, smashing his toys together and making pew-pew sounds, but it's also probably the best testament to the power of conventional effects work over the increasing insistence on CGI for big setpieces. Let's face it: explosions are pretty cool, every one likes exotic locales and bright sports cars, and there's at least someone here to appeal to you (least surprisingly for me, it was Melanie Laurent with bangs wearing a suit). It almost reaches a late Michael Mann kind of abstraction, as both are respectively breaking apart the action movie into stranger combinations. Bay gives plot only because he contractually has to, and even then doesn't seem as committed to characterization as he is showcasing surprisingly brutal ways for the gang to dispatch their enemies. It's nonsense, but the damn best nonsense of the year.

21: Ip Man 4: The Finale (dir. Wilson Yip)

"Is that it?! Is this your Chinese Kung Fu?!"

The finale in the decade-long quadrilogy of supremely silly and borderline racist worship of China finally attempts to tackle America to delightfully amusing results. Scott Adkins doing his best evil R. Lee Ermey impression while slipping in modern neo-con punchlines, neverending Bruce Lee worship, and more nationalism and bad fake American accents than you could ever believe. Yet also a more bizarrely honest portrayal of racism in 1960s America than most movies would ever have the courage to acknowledge. It’s almost fascinating considering how a lot of the non-Asian racism basically serves as set dressing, but they still put more effort there than pretty much every Hollywood movie set in the 60s that isn’t directly about civil rights. But ultimately they're selling you a bill of goods saying "watch Ip Man beat the crap out of racist meatheads" and you better believe they're going to give you what you want.

20: Let It Snow (dir. Luke Snellin)

"Have you ever been with someone, and you stay up until like 4AM just talking about everything, and you're just like, I can't believe I get to exist at the same time as you?"

Okay, so let me explain myself on this one:

So yeah, it certainly is a generic teen romcom where everyone plays into basic teenage stereotypes, half the cast is clearly nowhere near eighteen, and all of the romance is oddly chaste. But there truly is something to be said about representation in a romcom, and after a thousand boring cis, straight, hetero couples falling in love for decades, this movie actually managed to hit a lot of notes that are at best rarely explored in the genre and also manages to probably sneak in some genuine firsts. While both the "tomboy/softboy" and "Latina struggling with her family" storylines have been done before, these are some nice, cute little iterations on those befitting a teen-friendly movie. But the Dorrie/Kerry story is not only legitimately groundbreaking, but also an absolutely perfect encapsulation of the types of problems that queer teenagers struggle with during that time of their lives. It's a queer romance, played by two actually not-straight people, with one of them being a nonbinary actor too. And it's not cordoned off into some bargain bin DIY indie that fell out the back of the truck on the way to an indie film festival; no, this is in a major holiday release, with well-known actors, and as one of the central storylines! Plus, it perfectly captures the woes of modern teen coming out, knowing that everything will probably still be cool, but the fear haunting you as all you can do is look jealously at someone who is out and proud. And it does it without being real shitty and horribly traumatic too. Eat your fucking heart out, Love, Simon!

19. John Wick: Chapter 3 -- Parabellum (dir. Chad Stahelski)

"Si vis pacem, para bellum!"

Another year, another John Wick movie. There's more plot; you don't care, and let's be honest, neither do I. Stahelski is here to serve up more badass characters and incredible action, and no one in Hollywood does it quite like him. It's got familiar action favorites demonstrating why they still remain supreme, with Yayan Ruhian, Cecep Arif Rahman, Tiger Chen, and the ever underrated Mark Dascascos. It's got surprising action showcases for Halle Berry, Lance Reddick, and somehow Boban Marjanović. It's got great character actors doing their thing, from the returning McShane and Fishburne to newcomers Saïd Taghmaoui and Anjelica Huston. It's got Asia Kate Dillon as an awesome nonbinary shadow organization asshole. It has a bewildering Jason Mantzoukas cameo. And above all else, it has Keanu Reeves, still demonstrating not only his incredible physical skill, but also how to perfectly utilize his particular acting style to create an iconic character.

18. Doctor Sleep (dir. Mike Flanagan)

"Man takes a drink. A drink takes the drink. And then the drink takes a man."

While not the most accurate adaption, it might be the only Stephen King adaptation that comes to mind that actually successfully channels what makes him such an appealing author. King's stories have an inherent corniness to them and for as much as you unsuccessfully try to cover that up (look to this year's The Outsider for a good example), it's where the true charm of his work shines. It's what makes this so fun, because as much as an epic, eldritch terror is exciting, it still doesn't have the goofy fun of a bunch of vampiric bohemian drifters led by a Stevie Knicks knockoff in a top hat breathing up souls. Plus, the epic three hour runtime actually allows Flanagan to at least try to cover all the more subtle serious characterizations of Danny Torrance, from his recurring alcoholism to him seeking closure with regards to his parents. It manages to actually make the final act's nostalgia play kind of work, or at the very least get the terrible memory of the Ready Player One version out of my head.

17. Her Smell (dir. Alex Ross Perry)

"I thought you were better than this, but deep down I knew you weren't."

Perry must have had some extra pent-up nastiness in him after having to restrain himself while writing Christopher Robin (by the way, that happened), because he really created one of the nastiest characters in cinema here. Her Smell is the equivalent of being locked in a room with the shittiest person you'll ever meet, as she constant lashes out at everyone and everything with the kind of delirium that the truly demented are cursed with. And credit to Elizabeth Moss where it's due: she really perfectly embodies such a horrible human being and proceeds beat you damn near to death with it during a majority of the runtime. Eventually it slows down and all of the problems become apparent once they script isn't flying by at a thousand words a minute. But Moss literally did her job so well that people fucking hate this movie because of her character, and if that isn't a testament to her acting talent than I don't know what is.

16. High Life (dir. Claire Denis)

"At 99% the speed of light, the entire sky converged before our eyes. This sensation, moving backwards even though we're moving forwards, getting further from what's getting nearer. Sometimes I just can't stand it."

Denis finally makes her English debut with what she does best: nauseatingly uncomfortable sexuality oozing from terrible people doing horrible things. In this case, she takes an innovative detour into sci-fi, setting up a decades-long story of human experimentation, murder, the horrors of space travel, and whatever unholy things are going on inside of the "Fuck Box". It has an appropriately dingy production design too; the clean retro-futurist spaceship design soon dissolves into a torn apart den of depravity, caked in a mixture of filth and dry blood. Pattinson once again manages to be likeable while also being extremely standoff-ish; only playing with his baby daughter do we seem to see him actually enjoy interacting with a human being. Kind of gets lost in the sauce near the end, but at least manages to land some surprising emotional notes considering the kind of horrors that they've shown up until then.

15. The Farewell (dir. Lulu Wang)

"Chinese people have saying: when people get cancer they die. It's not cancer that kills them, it's the fear."

Lulu Wang's followup to Posthumous is such a massive step up in talent it's not even funny. She manages to make such a wonderfully soulful and loving movie about impending death by utilizing near perfect comic timing to defuse a situation that threatens to stray too dark. Not to mention her point of view on modern China from a non state-sponsored eye actually captures a much more accurate shot of the country itself. It's almost as if an Edward Yang movie had set itself more modest expectations -- it's pleasant, goes down well, teaches you a couple of things about Chinese culture, and manages to do it all in only a hundred minutes. And Awkwafina manages to hold her own against far more experienced actors, even if you can tell her Mandarin is still a little spotty.

14. Uncut Gems (dir. Josh and Benny Safdie)

"I think you are the most annoying person I have ever met. I hate being with you, I hate looking at you... And if I had my way I would never see you again."

Adam Sandler's magnum opus performance -- there will never be another character that fully embraces every grating aspect of his style of acting and manages to weaponize them for two anxiety-inducing hours of hell. Sandler's Howard Ratner is an absolute sewer rat scumbag, an untrustworthy coward, and a perennial fuck-up of epic proportions. But he's still so charismatic and powerful on screen that you root for him every time he drives you further up the wall. And the Safdie brothers know how to keep him moving too, never letting the audience catch a breath of air for this movie-length panic attack as the odds stack further against Howard each minute. Whenever you see Sandler phoning in his comedies for fat checks, just remember this performance and how pretty much every awards committee completely ignored this film. No wonder he doesn't bother trying anymore.

13. The Last Black Man In San Francisco (dir. Joe Talbot)

"You don't get to hate it unless you love it."

A wonderfully evocative love letter to a changing city that is so full of life in every way, from the vibrant movement of the camerawork to the bombastic and powerful soundtrack blasting throughout. But it actually plays more like a New Orleans' funeral march, a melancholic chronicle of the original denizens of San Francisco even as the city warps into the caricature that it's slowly becoming. There is a definite feeling that the aggressive gentrification is unavoidable and even the love of the original quirky denizens can only stave off the metaphorical steamroller that paves over the past. It makes for a wonderful counterpoint to the previous year's Blindspotting: both about young black men dealing with gentrification in the Bay Area, but Blindspotting starts as a very angry comic satire that eventually ends on a note of hope and a will to survive the changing tide, whereas this begins as a joyous celebration of the city and ends on a heartbreaking resignation in the face of everything. Both come from respectively very different sides of San Fran culture, but it's rather interesting seeing each have such different approaches to the same topic.

12. The Standoff at Sparrow Creek (dir. Henry Dunham)

"How do we know it's not you?"

A simple "pressure cooker" scenario done to perfection: one empty warehouse, a bunch of hardened standoff-ish militia men, a missing gun, a ticking clock, and a whole lot of suspicious side eyes and probing questions. It helps that the gruff suspects are a perfect who's who of roughened character actors, all previously well-versed in playing suspicious people, and all of them hiding the kind of unspoken rage that makes a man secretly join an armed militia. All of this told with a nerve-wracking minimalism and style as weirdly detached from reality as some of these men are. One hell of a debut for Henry Dunham and hopefully a sign of good things to come.

11. Booksmart (dir. Olivia Wilde)

"How about we play a *rousing* round of J'ACCUSE!"

Profoundly silly and yet also so disarmingly sweet, Olivia Wilde whips a wildly stylized portrait of Gen Z high-schoolers and the many ways that they vastly differ from their older peers. Certainly much more welcoming and accepting of the diversity of teenagers than pretty much any other teen movies from the past, although they still poke fun at some particular brands of modern "wokeness" too. Stuffed to the brim with wonderfully weird characters, between the lovable catty theatre duo of George and Alan, the cringe-inducing desperate rich kid Jared, the endearingly dumb thirstball Theo, the dorky and blissfully unaware queer-bait Ryan, the effortlessly cool and extremely "top energy" Hope, and the absolutely batshit wildness that is Gigi. But mainly it serves as a vehicle for Devers and Feldstein, with both bouncing perfectly back and forth off each other in moments of comedy and drama. Feldstein always pulls off huge laughs pretty much every line and Devers sells a perfect amount of baby-gay awkwardness in one of the sweetest (and heartbreaking) queer romance stories in film. But above all else, it's just so damn fun and aware of what teenagers are actually like than most movies ever have been.

10. Luce (dir. Julius Onah)

*chuckles* "You really think I believe that stuff?"

One of the most wildly uncomfortable experiences in recent cinema history, but not due to any horrifyingly explicit graphic content being shoved in our faces. No, Onah and Lee created something much more discomforting: a constant challenging of all our biases and stereotypes, of us wanting to give chances and have faith in those that we trust. Kelvin Harrison Jr. delivers one of the best acting performances in recent memory because he's able to literally do everything; his Luce somehow manages to perfectly walk the tightrope required for a performance like his. With him behind it, Luce is such a charming, loving, likeable character but there's always just something that seems off about him. And even if Spencer's Wilson has a fixation on him that crosses all sorts of legal and moral boundaries, wouldn't we be cheering her on under different circumstances? In a way, she herself is trying to communicate a lesson about perception too, one that also mires in deep, troubling waters. Even if the film still feels very stage-y due to it's source material, the cold clinical aesthetic only further helps it make us squirm in our seats.

9. Violet Evergarden: Eternity and the Auto Memory Doll (dir. Haruka Fujita)

"Nobody wants a letter that cannot be delivered."

An absolutely magical experience that artistically excels over the original TV series it's based off of. The production is still as impressive as any other KyoAni work, but the composition and lighting in particular are outstanding, selling the social isolation of the first half and the childlike wonder of the second half. Beginning with a sublime Victorian romance in the first half, the story eventually morphs into a tribute to the workers of the world, the cogs in the machine. But in the context of the studio's recent history and the horrific arson attack that claimed 36 members of the studio, this instead comes off as a battlecry against the opposition against them. It's a story valuing those who are overlooked in the process of creation, a story about strong determined women, a story of a young girl defining her own future against society. KyoAni as a studio were most known for treating all their employees exceptionally as well as being a primarily female-led studio, both unfortunate exceptions in the industry as well as the target for a lot of unfair online hatred against them (and surely played some sort of role in why the arson attack happened to them specifically). To see the studio make their first post-attack work so proudly emblematic of what made them unique makes this so much more powerful than you would expect.

8. The Nightengale (dir. Jennifer Kent)

"You know what it's like to have a white fella take everything that you have, don't ya?"

The classic revenge fantasy narrative warped into a bleak, cynical portrait of racist cruelty in 1800s Tasmania. Jennifer Kent, improving leaps and bounds from the relatively straightforward Babadook, crafts a searing indictment of the foundations of colonialism and the misogynistic undercurrent of the barbarous society. It's a revenge movie where the vengeance is horrible and unsatisfying -- there's no crowd pleasing murderous money-shots, just brief moments of comeuppance in the face of everything in the world working against our two protagonists. Those who are squeamish should be aware that it is exceptionally graphic and grueling at times, although Kent does manage to keep up a very good pace for the two and a half hours of hell.

7. Transit (dir. Christian Petzold)

"They say that those who were left never forget. But it's not true. They have the sweet, sad songs. Pity is with them. Those who leave, no one is with them. They have no songs."

Hitchcock by way of Kafka -- a classic existential mystery told in a disorienting separate reality not quite like our own. It's a bold move to take a Holocaust set narrative and completely throw out the actual setting itself, but Petzold only enhances the weird themes of the story by taking it to a completely different but still very familiar time. This is a classic tale of becoming the person you say you are but really aren't -- then begging the question of what if you're not the only one also living a false identity. Buoyed by an excellent and very enigmatic lead performance from Franz Rogowski, who displays a tremendous skill for playing somebody so closed off but also very charismatic and watchable.

6. Once Upon a Time... in Hollywood (dir. Quentin Tarantino)

"When you come to the end of the line, with a buddy who is more than a brother and a little less than a wife, getting blind drunk together is really the only way to say farewell."

Tarantino trades in his B-movie worship and penchant for comical bloodbaths (well, for the most part) to make something I certainly didn't expect from him: a relaxed hangout movie about getting old and falling out of fashion. Exceptional production design whisks us away to the height of Hollywood and three different people all looking at their future careers in very different lights. Leo gets to stretch his wings in all sorts of silly fun ways and Brad Pitt finally lets go of the young superstar image and easily slips into his more natural "hot single dad" swagger, playing the most effortlessly cool character of his career. Tarantino sets aside time to look back on his own flaws as well and playfully reflects on his own particular ...quirks. Easily his best since his 90s prime and the first time in a long time I've felt the maturity that he showcased in Jackie Brown.

5. The Lighthouse (dir. Robert Eggers)

"Damn ye! Let Neptune strike ye dead Winslow! HAAARK!"

Hyper-masculine mania as told through a wonderful blend of dark comedy and cosmic horror and with some of the most lush black-and-white cinematography maybe ever in a film. Eggers' now trademark devotion to absolute accurate period detail in both visual design and dialogue greatly helps this reach transcendent heights. But it's truly the two performances of Dafoe and Pattinson that help it weave a perfect spiral of insanity that also manages to be so oddly fun. Never could there be any other paring of actors that would perfectly showcase these two dirty sea-dogs going stark raving mad at each other so well.

4. Midsommar (dir. Ari Aster)

"As Hårga takes, so Hårga also gives."

(Director's Cut) Every generation deserves their own paranoia-fueled pagan horrorshow, but Aster strikes a much deeper vein in his epic take on the classic territory The Wicker Man had previously claimed. The brutal rituals of the Hårga are only set dressing most of the time, with much more focus poured into the vile toxicity plaguing the relationship between students Dani and Christian. Reynor's Christian is such a perfect portrayal of a terrible influence -- he's charming, fun, and likeable when he's on your side, but the second anybody goes against him his seedy manipulation begins to seep into everything he says. Pugh continues her winning streak too, delivering a broken person desperately trying to put a smile on while falling apart on the inside as she realizes she truly is all alone in the world. While some might be disappointed by the lack of actual "terror" for a good chunk of the movie, Aster has found something much more likely to scar us than these friendly Swedish cultists.

3. Sunset (dir. László Nemes)

"The horror of the world hides behind these infinitely pretty things."

After striking gold with Son of Saul, Laszlo Nemes takes a hard turn into a very different genre but manages to create a wonderfully unique spin on classic detective noir. His signature camerawork powers this yarn, successfully taking the claustrophobic eye of Saul and using it to give a truly immersive sense of place in the tumultuous world of 1913 Budapest, where danger is simmering under the surface and ready to boil over at any moment. After all, noir is always about the eye of the detective, so Nemes' style takes it to a literal degree where everything outside of Irisz' field of vision is incomprehensible. We catch the same shady sideways glances and hushed whispers at the same time she does too. The plotting, like all noir tales, gets a little too complex for its own good, although it's less because of double-crossing and deceit and more from the story slowly dropping its connection to reality to function on a far more allegorical level. But as far as immersive, experiential cinema goes, not even 1917 can stack up to this film's highs, as the enraged lower-class populace eventually comes for the heads of the bourgeoise and Irisz suddenly realizes she is in the very wrong place at the very wrong time.

2. Portrait of a Lady on Fire (dir. Céline Sciamma)

"Do all lovers feel they're inventing something?"

An absolutely breathtaking portrait (hehe) of yearning and love, so astonishingly romantic and actually aware of what will make a woman swoon. Every technical aspect is perfect, from the gorgeous locale to the lovely windswept dresses to the soft, classical cinematography. But the true magic comes from Merlant and Haenel perfectly delivering every line of Sciamma's wonderous script. Those two have a sexual tension strong enough to burn down the theater, as their shy glances turn into deep longing stares and both their steely professional reserves give way to poorly suppressed joy at just being able to be with the other. Even their initial terse dialogue melts into pure romantic splendor, as they lovingly catalog all the little gestures the other does when flustered. Their connection during filming was powerful enough to fuel rumors around the two in the press and is currently providing the desire for every thirsty lesbian who finishes this to immediately pull up videos from the press tour and hunt for those same things between the actors themselves. And trust me, they are there.

1. Parasite (dir. Bong Joon-ho)

"Not 'rich but still nice.' Nice because she's rich, you know? Hell, if I had all this money, I'd be nice too!"

Very rarely does a film come along that actually warrants to be described as "perfect", as in one that literally generates no critiques in any way even if I was forced to pick something at gunpoint to complain about. But Parasite truly does every single thing right. Even Bong's tonal whiplash style, which does grate on me at times, somehow fits perfectly here as the schemes become increasingly madcap and the increasing sense that this will all come crashing down horribly mounts ever higher. Until then, it's an absolute joy to watch in every way, as Bong stacks the card deck higher and all the characters dive further into the sewer for their own benefit. The midpoint pivot works wonderfully too, as it goes to show that literally every person is getting played in the world of Parasite. It's massive success is only surprising to those who haven't seen it: it's the perfect movie for the era it came out in and may as well be the watershed moment for a new age of cinema where Hollywood finally admits that it's not the king of the world anymore.

[theabyssalmuses-a]

“I will not stop The Ruination. It is the strongest power, thus it beats every other power- preventing any from standing in my way.”

“its me Skarner”

“Gah--! This cannot be! My one weakness! Scorpion!”

[thatringboy]

If you heard about someone with the name “Oliver”, you wouldn’t imagine the tall figure darkening the hallway with an icy glare. Oliver was a soft name meant for someone who liked nature and fruit smoothies. Because Oliver was a name that belonged to a nice person who was popular and well liked.

So Oliver changed his name. To even his most trusted henchmen, he was Pendragon: Criminal Extraordinare and one of the most dangerous supervillains to date. He had power over electricity and his incredible physique made even the strongest heroes falter when he arrived on scene. He killed without remorse, destroyed any infrastructure that got in his way and his mind was like a supercomputer: always coming up with new brilliant schemes to spread chaos across the city.

When Pendragon had dragged the scrawny hero back to his lair, he had had his men prepare for a counter attack from the other heroes immediately and boasted proudly to his victim about how victory was his.

What he didn’t expect was for the smaller man to shrug him off with an unamused expression.

“They’re not coming for me. This is a waste of your time.”

Pendragon had laughed loudly and had his captured prey tossed into a cell made specifically for holding superhumans. Three of the four walls were concrete and the fourth was a strong type of glass that Pendragon had designed - and tested - himself. Not even a bulldozer could crack it.

But this hero had no inhuman strength. His power allowed him to plant his consciousness into technology and he used this power for information gathering purposes. The hero called himself “Matrix” after the movie, which happened to be Pendragon’s favorite series, but this hero was more like pre-pill Neo than “The One” Neo. Not very impressive in any standard. Pendragon assumed that Matrix was only kept around for his powers and his powers only.

The self proclaimed King of the Underworld sat himself upon his throne once Matrix was out of his sight and waited for the heroes to come bursting into his lair in a rescue attempt. He sat for a few hours, treating himself to a nice dinner and reading a book while the time passed, but no heroes.

He eventually locked up for the night, strolling past Matrix sitting grimly in his cell, and told his henchmen to go home. There would be no battle today.

It was the same thing the next day. Pendragon summoned Matrix forward and was once again told how no rescue would come for the superhero. But the villian didn’t believe it for a second. He knew the heroic type: they never would leave one of their own behind.

Two more days passed and Pendragon’s patience was growing thin. The supervillain marched to the holding cell, but stopped when the hero came into view.

For the first time since Matrix arrived, Pendragon almost felt sorry for him. He was just a young man, no older than twenty-two, with an incredible power that wasn’t used to its full potential. Watching Matrix hug his knees to his chest and rock himself on the concrete floor brought up a harsh memory that Pendragon had hoped had left his mind.

He was just a kid testing out his powers. There was no harm in charging a battery, right? If little Oliver practiced enough then he could become a super hero! It was every kid’s dream come true.

He didn’t mean to let his electricity get out of control. He didn’t mean to cause a total blackout of the entire city. He didn’t mean to make the power go out in the hospital where the mayor was getting his heart operated on.

He was just a kid when superheroes swooped down and plucked him from the schoolyard the next day.

He was just a kid when the court found him guilty of killing the mayor.

He was just a kid when he was dragged away from his family and into prison.

And he was just a kid when he successfully escaped said prison.

He was just a kid.

He was just a kid.

Pendragon pulled himself back to the present, sighed loudly and dragged himself to Matrix’s cell before smushing his face against the class.

“Oi, Matty, get up.”

Matrix pulled his head out of his knees, eyes red from crying throughout the night. “That’s not my name.”

“Not my problem. Up.”

Matrix slowly got to his feet and watched the glass wall slide open for him to step out. He could try to run, there were signs on the walls for new henchmen to use to get around the lair and he was fast enough, but one look from Pendragon looming over him told the younger boy that he could run him down in his sleep.

So he didn’t run.

Pendragon led him away from the daunting throne room and down a few more hallways before turning into a hallway labeled “dorms”.

Matrix stopped and crossed his arms. “I’m not becoming a henchman.”

Pendragon rolled his eyes and turned his head over his shoulder. “Didn’t expect you to. I’m just getting you a better room than a concrete cell.”

The young hero blinked, his arms falling to his sides. “Oh… thank you.”

The villain grunted and motioned for Matrix to follow him again. They took a few steps into the hall and the large man opened a door, revealing a tidy bedroom with minimal decor. Matrix poked his head in and felt Pendragon step behind him.

“For you. It’s not much, but I don’t want my men complaining to HR about not giving you anything.”

The hero snorted and looked up at the villain. “You have an HR department?”

Pendragon frowned down at him. “Do the heroes not?”

Matrix gave him an awkward chuckle and stepped into the room. Pendragon handed him a meal schedule of when the henchmen ate in the lair cafeteria and left him alone, he had to finish his planning of how to separate the rest of the heroes from each other.

He could imagine them all scrambling around their base wondering how they could successfully keep people safe without their precious Matrix available to follow police chatter and newsfeeds. And it was a glorious image.

After Matrix moved in to the henchmen dorms and felt comfortable moving around the lair, Pendragon found himself enjoying the company. At any time, the hero could have followed the signs around the halls and escaped, but he didn’t. Matrix even began sitting with Pendragon for meals and the two ranted to each other about different computers, tv shows, heroes etc etc.

An entire week passed before Pendragon called Matrix into his throne room with a curious look. “So, Matty—”

“—again, that’s not my name—”

“Yeah yeah yeah, Matty, I was wondering something: what’s keeping you from leaving? You could use those powers of yours to call for help, or just walk the fuck out of here, so why stay?” He leaned forward in his throne and crossed one leg over the other, his eyes looking the hero up and down with a mix of emotions that Matrix didn’t want to unpack. “Do you really enjoy my company that much?”

Matrix rolled his eyes and looked around, his gaze never meeting the intense one the supervillain was giving him. “It’s not like I have a place to go back to. If the heroes wanted me, they would have found me on their own. Maybe I just want to be appreciated and want them to put in the effort.”

Pendragon let out a deep, primal laugh that shook the room. He took a deep breath and wiped a nonexistent tear from his eye. “Oh dear god, that’s hilarious! Sorry, sorry, you make the cutest face when you’re serious, but you think the heroes are smart enough to find my lair? My hideout? If they had you then maybe if you only focused on tracking my down, but they’re hopeless!”

Usually, watching the color drain from someone’s face was a moment of celebration of a weaker person well scared, but Pendragon didn’t feel proud of himself. Something inside of himself twisted terribly and he opened his mouth to apologize, but Matrix’s laugh cut him off.

“You’re probably right.” The hero shrugged and put his hands in the pockets of the pants some henchmen had lent him. “They are pretty hopeless, aren’t they? We have an entire team dedicated to taking you down and the second one person goes missing everything falls apart.”

They left it at that.

Pendragon stopped asking Matrix to join him for leisure activities after that confrontation, but he came anyways. However, their conversations became duller, meals became shorter and according to a henchman, Matrix was spending more and more time in his room.

It was exactly one month since Matrix was captured when he finally went a full day without coming out of his room.

After cleaning up his dinner and wishing his henchmen Goodnight, Pendragon marched himself down to the dorms of his lair and raised his fist to pound on the door. But he stopped himself.

Instead, he knocked gently against wood and waited until he heard a faint “come in” before turning the doorknob.

“Hey Matty, I missed you today. Everything okay?” He slowly pulled the door open and peeked inside.

Matrix sat on the floor, his back against the bed and his head in his hands. His shoulders rose slowly like he was slowing his breathing. Pendragon slipped inside and shut the door behind himself, moving quietly to sit on the floor next to the hero.

“Everything okay?” He repeated himself.

Matrix was silent as he pulled his hands away from his tear stained cheeks and began to shift through his pockets. Rage burned inside of Pendragon. Who did this to him? Who had upset him so much that he was crying by himself?

Was it something the villain had done? That possibility sent ice running through his veins.

Matrix produced a small phone from his pocket and handed it to Pendragon before looking at his feet with a dead expression. The villain took the phone and opened it to find that the hero next to him had indeed called and texted for help every single day of his capture, giving coordinates of the lair and a map of the facility leading to his room.

They weren’t even left on Read.

Before he realized what he was doing, Pendragon saw the phone’s charge jump to 100% and he set it down, less his powers fry the thing.

Matrix pulled his knees to his chest and rested his cheek on his arms, his head facing away. “I was right. They’re not coming. I gave them every opportunity to come get me but they didn’t even look at it.”

Pendragon looked at the hero and back at the phone, his rage simmering and melting into pity. He couldn’t stop his mind from remembering how he felt when everyone in his life walked away and called him a monster for an accident he committed when he was a kid, nor could he stop his body from reading over and pulling Matrix to his chest in a one sided hug.

The hero was warm to the touch, something the villain had never noticed before. Maybe it was a side effect of his powers, maybe it was just a part of him. He didn’t care. All of his other responsibilities and commitments faded away as Matrix began to sob in his arms and bury his face into Pendragon’s torso.

They sat there, just the two of them, for a while. Pendragon gently rocked Matrix and rested his cheek atop his head as the hero continued to cry until his tears were dry. The villain even wondered if he would begin crying too; this was the most intimate he had ever been with someone in a very long time. It was strange, he though, comforting a hero he captured himself, but when Matrix has finished and softly whispered “thank you, Pendragon”, his heart swelled in a way he never thought possible.

“Oliver.”

Matrix pulled his head up, his body curled into the larger one beside him. “What?”

“That’s my name, Oliver. No one else knows it besides me and now you.”

“Why would you tell me that?”

Why did the supervillain share his identity? He didn’t have an answer, so he just shrugged, eliciting a smile from the hero that made his insides squirm.

“It’s a nice name.” Matrix wiped his face on the sleeve of his borrowed shirt. “Don’t think having a wimpy name like ‘Oliver’ will get you any sympathy points from me.”

Pendragon laughed loudly. “Oh really? Damn, and here I thought that we were having a moment!”

Matrix shifted so that he could slot himself under the villain’s arm and pull it around him. “Sorry.”

“Hey.” The supervillain used his free hand to touch Matrix’s chin and make the shorter man look at him. “You don’t have to ever apologize to me for anything.”

Where did that come from? What sort of mind control has ensnared the mighty Pendragon to make him say such sentimental things to one of his sworn enemies? He was in far too deep now and his mind screamed for him to get away, but the feeling of Matrix in his arms was too wonderful to pass up.

So when their lips crashed together, Oliver gladly left everything in his head go unheard and let his heart take control. The kiss was soft at first, the villain not moving too much as to not scare Matrix away, but it became more passionate within seconds. The smaller balled up the fabric of the taller’s shirt to pull him closer and the taller happily let his rough hands settle on the shorter’s face to caress his tear stained cheeks.

Oliver wanted to kiss the tears away forever. He wanted to hold this hero in his arms all day and all night and be there for him when he felt alone. He wishes with his whole heart that maybe the other felt the same and when he felt Matrix surge into the kiss even more, he had his answer.

Matrix was the one to pull away, lips red and breathing unsteady, but he did not remove his hands from Oliver’s shirt.

“Matthew.” He blurted out. “That’s my name.”

Oliver snorted, earning a slight smack in the ribs. He pressed his lips together to keep from laughing before removing his hands from the hero’s cheeks and puking them behind his own head. “So everytime I called you ‘Matty’ and you bitched about it not being your name, you were lying?”

Matthew flushed red, a sight that Oliver wanted to photograph and cherish forever. “Maybe…”

This time, Oliver couldn’t contain his laugh. He wrapped his arms around Matthew and pulled him flush against his torso, ignoring the playful attempts to push him away. His smile turned endearing and his ran a hand across the back of Matthew’s head.

“Just what am I gonna do with you?”

~~~~

If you heard about someone with the name “Oliver”, you wouldn’t imagine the tall man walking in the middle of the street with electricity crackling in his fingers and shooting out to grab onto anything conductible it could find. Oliver was a soft name meant for someone who liked nature and fruit smoothies. Because Oliver was a name that belonged to a nice person who was popular and well liked.

So Oliver changed his name. To even his most trusted henchmen, he was Pendragon: Criminal Extraordinare and one of the most dangerous supervillains to date. He had power over electricity and his incredible physique made even the strongest heroes falter when he arrived on scene. He killed without remorse, destroyed any infrastructure that got in his way and his mind was like a supercomputer: always coming up with new brilliant schemes to spread chaos across the city.

But to the young man sitting comfortably in his lair, shifting his consciousness into the tech of the heroes to garble their communications and mess with their radars, he would remain Oliver. He remained Oliver when he returned from battle and threw his heavy body down onto Matty’s smaller form when the latter was trying to read, blissfully ignoring the protests of his lover and falling asleep. He remained Oliver when one of the two men awoke in the middle of the night screaming from terrors that haunted their dreams, only finding comfort in the other’s arms as they drifted back to sleep. And he remained Oliver when he monologued to the heroes about how he successfully captured and converted their precious Matrix over to his side, basking in the way their faces flashed with indifference before they realized just how large the magnitude of the Ex-Hero’s abilities and how that realization drained the color from their skin.

So yes, Pendragon considered his actions to be a victory over the heroes. Not only did he get himself access to almost every piece of technology in the city, but he also fell in love with the man behind the machine and was rewarded every day for that.

You are a villain who kidnapped the smart guy on your nemesis team, they tell you that nobody will come for them and that the hero doesn’t care. You didn’t believe them at first but it been a month and nobody shows up and after once again hearing them cry at night you had enough.

[theabyssalmuses-archived]

“FUUUUSIIOOONNN-!” 

“FUSION-!” 

 “HA!”

[neosy]

✍ ♿ ☺ ⚡ ☃ 🏨 ❤ ☘

✍ : What is your muse’s handwriting like? Is it neat? Sloppy? Fancy?

  Neo’s always been someone with an equally collected and erratic personality, made up of opposites and spontaneous switches in mood and attitude. His handwriting is very much a reflection of this. When in proper business situations or writing anything of importance he utilizes the calligraphy he was taught since he was little, looped letters and perfect penmanship. However, his casual writing is much more nondescript, not exactly sloppy but printed with less care, scribbled down relatively quickly as to keep track of his thoughts before they’re lost to him in a new whirlwind of ideas. The text in his personal notebooks and daily planner can range from precise, drawn out letters to something almost illegible when written in the span of a few short seconds.

♿ : Has your muse had any injuries in the past?

  Neo has had many injuries, but very few of particular note. The biggest laceration he ever had resulted in a thick scar on the right side of his torso. It was a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, the ‘wrong place’ being the safe of one his father’s (presently ex, of course) business partners and the ‘wrong time’ being just as he and his accomplices extracted an undisclosed amount of currency from the man’s private funds. Neo had ended up with a knife slammed between his seventh and eighth rib, puncturing his lung. He’d had to leave it in for approximately two hours after the incident, not having escaped to the safety of someone qualified to give him stitches quickly enough and causing the deep cut to tear slightly further along his side. Once the initial shock wore off, the pain was indescribable, but if he’d tried to remove the blade before finding a qualified physician he would’ve bled out and died in minutes. Even with the knife still embedded, he’d shown up in bad shape. He was only nineteen at the time and it was the his first proper near-death experience. Despite his assurance and hubris, the scar is something he’s rather self conscious about, the imperfection being one of the few things he sees wrong with himself, especially his body in particular.

☺ : What is your muse’s smile like? Do they smile often?

   Neo smiles a lot for someone who seldom finds himself legitimately happy. Most of his smiles are a show or a ploy, simply smiling to be polite or smiling to get something he wants; generally both. However, no matter how few they manage to be, he has a real smile as well. It breaks across his face like the sun over the horizon, his eyes crinkling and teeth flashing bright. It isn’t his usual handsome smile, accompanied with a false twinkle in his eye, but instead it’s rather goofy looking. All teeth and closed eyes, a laugh that rings loud and his hands clasping together. There’s a genuine glee underneath all the cynicism and seriousness, one that only either burns bright or not at all. When a true smile casts itself on Neo’s face, it’s prevalent to everyone else in the room that all his usual grins are fabricated, it outs him as something as a phony. Neo’s ‘real’ smiles are the only chance that those around him will get to see his honest nature, who really is under all the games and professionalism. He smiles like his armor is cracked in half, face melting into one that looks entirely unfamiliar to almost everyone he’s met. 

    Neo smiles like a supernova, all star dust and light, just before he ceases to exist as he was once known.

⚡ : How does your muse feel about storms? Are they afraid of them, or do they calm them?

   Neo used to listen to the rain and thunder cracking outside and whipping the air as if a lullaby. Storms understand storms. The sound washed over him as familiar and comforting as a song that he couldn’t ever recall truly learning. His eyes would close and sometimes he’d step out into it, a shrug on his shoulders and a calm expression on his face, standing in the chaos as if he were the one that caused it, the master of his own environment. He could almost move with it, understanding the wrath in every howl of the wind. He misses them, he misses their calls and the way they made him feel, the way his bones would ring with the shaking of the air, the electricity. It was dangerous in the scariest way, the violence out of his control, being a spectator whose life would hold the consequences of whatever happened with no say of his own. The feeling was one of absolute destruction and acceptance. It could be comparable to a momentary apocalypse, not having to worry about tomorrow for just one moment. Today was the end, tomorrow was armageddon, and even still, he never had to wonder which side he was fighting for, just barely following along to enjoy the bedlam.

☃  : What is your muse’s favorite season? What about their least favorite season, if they have one?

   The crisp air of fall was rejuvenating, the spring showers brought relief and tranquility, but the harsh and bitter cold of winter, the melting exhaustion of summer; they brought nothing but suffering. For someone who swung between extremities at every breath, he hated too much of any one thing. The blistering heat and back breaking cold made his face turn to a scowl, his arms stretch across each other in a disapproving nature as he stepped begrudgingly out into the world. The in-betweens, however, where a bliss that he felt fortunate enough to afford. In a blatant form of hypocrisy, he generally only loved or hated, not many things being indifferent to him. He favored the comfortable, and held a heavy disdain for anything inconvenient. 

🏨  : How well does your muse sleep?

HERE!

❤ : What are your muse’s thoughts on love? If they are not in a relationship, do they believe that they will ever find a perfect someone for them?

HERE!

☘ : Does your muse believe in luck? How about fate?

HERE!