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ollieofthebeholder · 4 months ago

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And If Thou Wilt, Forget: a TMA fanfic

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Chapter 50: Too short a century of dreams, One day of work sufficient length

“I’m not hungry.”

“Tough. You’re eating something. I don’t care if you spend the whole time peeling a single grape as long as you eat it before we leave.”

“What if I made you peel it for me?”

Gerry’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “If it gets you to actually eat, I’ll do it.”

Tim gave him a quizzical look, but he didn’t say anything else. Gerry decided to take that as a victory.

It was still that between time that couldn’t quite decide if it constituted early morning or late night. The stragglers from the bars had either made it home safely, been arrested and taken to holding cells, or been scraped off the streets and transported to hospitals or morgues as needed; the night shift was still on the clock; the day shift had not yet awakened. It was the time of day that Tim’s friend Rook in Los Angeles had referred to as the liminal hours—a time when the world seemed just slightly to the left of reality. London never truly slept, but this was probably the quietest it ever really got. Nobody would really call it peaceful, but it was certainly less hectic than the daytime.

Gerry pulled into a parking spot in front of an all-night diner. Its name and decor, visible through the windows, indicated that this one was run by an expatriate American, and for some reason he felt like that fit the current mood. It was fairly empty, save a pair of uniformed beat cops evidently on their lunch break, a balding man in a tattered dressing gown absently nibbling at a bit of toast as he scribbled away in a notebook, and a young person of indeterminate gender with green hair, a frazzled look, and papers spread over every part of the table in front of them that was not occupied by a coffee cup. It would be a perfect place for them, whether they actually talked about what they’d just learned or not.

They slid into a booth near the back of the diner. The waitress came over, handed them two menus, and poured them each a cup of coffee without asking, then drifted off with the pot to give them time to look over. Tim raised an eyebrow. “Guess they don’t get many people this time of day not ordering coffee.”

“Guess not. Hope you weren’t planning on going back to bed.”

Tim shook his head. “Gertrude Robinson, much like Macbeth, has murdered sleep.”

Gerry hesitated. He didn’t know why he was so reluctant to admit this, but…he was. On the other hand, there was every chance Tim would just know it already, so he might as well say it. “I’ve—I’ve actually never read Macbeth. Or any Shakespeare, really. I’ve read that one Discworld book that borrows from Shakespeare, but I don’t think that counts.”

“I do. At least in getting the gist of the plots. And hey, at least I know what to get you for your birthday.” Tim gave Gerry a crooked smile. “It’s part of a conversation Macbeth and his wife have after he starts going fully round the twist. ‘Methinks I heard a voice cry, “Sleep no more! Macbeth does murder sleep.”’” He sighed. “I was done sleeping for the night anyway, I think, but I really don’t want to go back to bed now.”

“How much are you…sleeping these days?” Gerry asked, carefully. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted the answer.

Tim, however, shrugged. “About the same as I always have. Honestly, maybe better? I’m certainly a lot less likely to wake up screaming than I used to.”

“That’s not nearly as comforting as I think you wish it was.”

“How are you sleeping?” Tim asked. “I don’t…it’s harder to wake me up than I think it used to be, so if you’re tossing and turning, I’m missing it.”

“Mostly I’m sleeping okay,” Gerry said slowly. “Not so much last night, but…usually it’s okay. Just…that tape was going around in my head, you know?”

“Yeah, I get what you mean. It was a lot for me, and it wasn’t anyone I knew. I can’t imagine how I’d have felt if that had been Nonno, or Danny. It’s bad enough hearing Gertrude’s voice some days, but at least she didn’t suffer like that.” Tim was quiet for a moment. “Or at least she never made a statement about it.”

The waitress came back, pen poised over pad, and gave them both a look that clearly indicated that if they didn’t order something, she was going to have them thrown out for wasting her time. Gerry pointed to a couple things at random on the menu; Tim requested something that sounded similar enough to what he’d usually got in the sorts of diners they’d gone to on their American jaunt—God, had it really only been two years since Gertrude died? Felt like an eternity, and at the same time no time at all—and the waitress took their menus and whisked off, bawling to the kitchen for “two dots and a dash with a B&B and Jayne Mansfield with a mystery in the alley”.

“Is that an actual thing people do?” Gerry asked, more to himself than anything. “I don’t remember anyone doing it when we were actually in the States.”

“Some places do, but most don’t anymore.” Tim took a sip of his coffee and nodded in absent approval. “I think here it’s mostly a bit, you know?”

Gerry hummed. “I’d ask you what they meant, but I don’t want you to have to…you know. Know stuff.”

Tim looked amused. “Do you not know what you ordered?”

“Not really,” Gerry admitted. “I just picked something.”

“I thought it was weird that you got a tall stack of pancakes and a side of hash. Shame they don’t have scrapple on their menu.”

“Hey, you have to admit, that was pretty good.”

“It wasn’t something I’d have asked about at every diner we went to after we left Philadelphia, but yeah, it was pretty good,” Tim acknowledged.

Gerry added a dollop of creamer to his coffee and picked it up, but didn’t drink it. After a moment’s pause, he asked, “Are we safe?”

Tim nodded. “For now. I don’t think he sees me as a threat, honestly—at least not yet, or maybe not anymore. Might be because Jon’s not in the Archives, so I’m not constantly hovering around him, disrupting whatever Jonah’s plans might be.” He paused, then added, “Might also be because he was able to ‘break through my defenses’ the other day, so he thinks I’m not as powerful as he was maybe afraid I was…Jesus, was that just two days ago? It’s been a hell of a week.”

“Yeah, I know.” Gerry set the coffee down. He’d get to it eventually, but not right now. “In that case…what are we going to do? Not right this second, obviously, but…you know, in general. Do we have a plan?”

“An intention, maybe.” Tim’s eyes went vacant, but at least they didn’t start glowing, which Gerry supposed was a win. “We’ve got to figure out about the Unknowing. And…a lot of other things. Fuck.” He twisted the ring around his finger. “And I don’t know that I can properly think about them if I’m worried constantly that we’re going to be…observed. So I think our first order of business is going to be finding somewhere we can suss this out without risk of discovery or exposure.”

Gerry pursed his lips in thought. He was still thinking when the waitress returned—remarkably quickly—with two steaming plates. She plunked them down without ceremony and bustled off to check on the uniformed officers. Tim picked up the strip of bacon, which was done to a black crisp, and snapped it in half. “You want some, or are you happy with your hash?”

“I’m good.” Gerry picked up his fork and waited until Tim popped part of the bacon in his mouth before he took a bite himself. “You know…there’s always the tunnels.”

Tim’s eyebrows shot up. “The tunnels?”

“Under the Institute.”

“I know which tunnels you’re talking about. Just…do you think that’s a good idea?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Mostly for the same reason you think it is, babe. It’s cut off from the Eye.” Tim cut into his egg with the edge of his fork, letting the yolk bleed across the plate in a way that Gerry was remarkably familiar with. “Which, yes, will help us keep…Elias from seeing what we’re doing, but it’s also probably going to end up limiting how much I can do. Or how long I can be down there before I start getting…wibbly.”

Gerry shrugged. “There were parts you were okay in while we were…oh. Yeah, that would mean he can see you, wouldn’t it?”

Tim chewed thoughtfully on a piece of egg. Swallowing, he said, “Maybe. There’s one spot I think Elias can’t see that I’ll be okay, but…it’s risky.”

“Like everything else we do. Where?”

“As close to the Archives as we can get.” Tim met Gerry’s eyes. “I usually feel stronger when I’m…within shouting distance, I guess. Close enough that I can get up there if I’m needed. Which is stupid, because we’re not going to be doing this when anyone’s up there, but I feel like it’s the only way I can reasonably expect to be okay.”

“Okay, so where’s the risk?” Gerry asked. “Walk me through this, Tim. Pretend I’m an idiot.”

Tim set his fork down. “I’m not going to pretend you’re an idiot, because I feel like you’re actually implying that you are an idiot and I told you to knock that shit off. The risky part is the…Not. I’m pretty sure it’s down there somewhere.”

Gerry’s stomach lurched. “Maybe it’s dead. Maybe Jon killed it. Or maybe whoever…or whatever killed the old man killed it.”

“I don’t think it can be killed, honestly. You’d need a Hunter.” Tim ran a hand through his hair. “But it hasn’t come up into the Archives yet. I sort of surreptitiously checked a couple of the old tapes yesterday, so I know Melanie and Martin are still…them, and Jon’s voice sounds like I remember.”

“Also you haven’t torn London apart brick by brick to avenge his death.”

“Also that,” Tim agreed. “Still. If it’s still nearby, it’s in the tunnels but staying there. For now. I’m just worried that it’ll scent us out and…follow us, maybe? Like me being there might break some kind of seal…like whatever was on the room Gertrude’s body was in.” His voice cracked a little at that. “I can’t let it into the Archives again, Ger. I can’t put them in that kind of danger.”

Gerry was silent for several moments, partly because he was trying to cope with far too many pancakes—he really should have paid attention to what he was ordering—but partly because he was thinking. Maybe a little because he was watching Tim eat.

“What?” Tim said, a bit indistinctly, since his mouth was full of toast. He swallowed hard and studied Gerry in obvious concern. “Do you want some? I’ll trade plates with you if you’d rather have eggs and toast. I can choke down the pancakes.”

Okay, maybe a lot because he was watching Tim eat. Gerry felt his cheeks get hot, and he forced himself to look away. “No, it’s fine. I’m fine. Uh, I—I don’t think you have anything to worry about there. Not as long as we go at it from a different direction, you know? Like, as long as you’re not going in and out the steps to the Archives themselves, whatever seal might be there is still intact. And you never know, you might go down there and realize there’s not something like that there, and the Not is avoiding the Archives for a wholly different reason. Like because you’re there. You did almost catch it, after all.”

Tim’s face collapsed. “Not almost enough.”

“Hey.” Gerry reached across the table and covered Tim’s hand with his own. “The Stranger is called I Do Not Know You for a reason, okay? You knew something was up, enough to protect Jon. And Martin. You did what you could.”

“I wish I could fully believe that, but…thanks, Ger.” Tim took a deep breath. “Right. Let’s finish eating and go home.”

“Not to the tunnels?”

“We need supplies.” Tim speared another piece of egg. “And I think we should take the dog.”

Having Rowlf with them did make them stand out a bit less than they probably would have otherwise, not that it was that busy on a Saturday, even in Chelsea. He was definitely interested in the tunnels, too, sniffing enthusiastically as they walked, tail wagging madly, far too enthusiastic, in Gerry’s opinion, considering they were underground. Every once in a while, he paused and stared intently at a tunnel wall, ears perked and tail stiff.

Gerry told himself he was probably just hearing rats behind the walls, but he didn’t entirely believe himself.

Something clattered under his foot, and he froze, hand tightening around Tim’s. “What was that?” he half whispered, trying to swallow down the panic.

Tim glanced down at the ground. “Wine bottle. Look.”

Gerry remembered he was holding the torch and angled it in the correct direction. Sure enough, rolling to a stop against a bit of wall was a pale green glass bottle, slender and long-necked with a nearly flat bottom. He tilted his head to one side, studying it. “Looks like a hock, or maybe an Alsace. Someone’s been down here drinking?”

“Not anybody in the Archives. Martin’s not a drinker and Jon prefers reds.” Tim let go of Gerry’s hand and bent to retrieve the bottle, studying the label. “Tokay Pinot gris. You were right, it’s Alsatian, and it’s got to be ten to twenty years old. They stopped using the Tokay label in 2007 to keep from confusing it with the Hungarian wine, and before 1994 it would’ve been Tokay d’Alsace.” He set the bottle down carefully to one side. “Maybe the old man who got murdered was…shit. I’ll bet he was living down here. Remember that time we were down here and I swore I heard something moving around? Bet it was him.”

Gerry looped his arm through Tim’s and started leading him on again. They had to get to a good place to set up before he started getting woozy. “They still don’t have any ideas on who it was, do they?”

“Don’t think so,” Tim said. “At least Martin didn’t say they did. I know it was someone who used to help Gertrude from time to time, and I know it was someone I wasn’t supposed to know about, but that’s about it.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because she never mentioned him, babe. I only saw him a couple of times, and Gertrude acted like she’d been alone every time I came in, so I clearly wasn’t supposed to know he was there. He was just some pathetic old man.”

Gerry snorted. “Almost sounds like the guy I thought was Leitner, until I really got a look at him.”

Tim hummed. “Have you ever considered that maybe you hyped Jurgen Leitner up to be a bigger, badder, more impressive villain than he actually is?”

“Most things I’ve encountered have been pretty big and badass.”

“Yeah, but how often do you deal with things that are still people? Most of the people who get involved in this shit are just weak, pathetic morons.” Tim tugged at the lead. “Rowlf, leave it.”

Rowlf complied, though he didn’t seem happy about it. Gerry sighed. “Maybe I want him to be a badass because I don’t want to admit that a weak, pathetic moron ruined my life.”

“Maybe you’re blaming him for things you should actually be blaming your mother for.”

“Maybe we should stop talking for a bit.”

They fell silent for probably another ten minutes, until Tim suddenly drew in a deep breath and straightened up. “We’re close. Start looking for a good room. Preferably one with a door.”

“Here’s a door.” Gerry seized the handle and opened it, revealing…flat grey stone. “Okay, it is a door. But that’s it. I assume you want a door with a room as well as a room with a door.”

“Pretty much, Daffy.” Tim evidently caught the look Gerry gave him and clarified, “Daffy Duck. Old cartoon from the forties…it’d take too long to explain the plot, but just know that the punchline at the end is ‘Hey, bub! You need a house to go with this doorknob!’” He sighed with what sounded like mingled nostalgia and regret. “It was one of Danny’s favorites.”

“We’ll have to dig it up sometime, but meanwhile, let’s keep looking around.” Gerry shut the door—why, he couldn’t say—and moved on.

It was maybe another five or six minutes before Rowlf scratched eagerly at a door, and Gerry opened it to find that, indeed, there was a room behind it. “Good boy,” he told the spaniel, who barked happily and wagged his tail. He scratched him behind the ears before stepping into the room and sweeping it with the torch. “This look good to you, Stoker?”

Tim stepped into the room and studied it, then nodded. “Yes, I think this will do nicely.” He shut the door behind them, unclipped Rowlf’s lead, and fished around in their supplies until he found the collapsible dog dish and a bottle of water.

Once Rowlf was occupied, they busied themselves with setting up. A table and chairs would have been nice, but there’d been no way to subtly carry one in; fortunately, there were a few empty crates scattered about, for some reason, which would make decent enough seats if they didn’t opt to just sit on the floor. Instead, Tim pulled out several squares of cork board and a roll of double sided mounting tape and proceeded to stick up a makeshift bulletin board, while Gerry hung a small battery powered lantern from a convenient protruding nail—it spat out a surprising amount of light for its size—and pulled out a stack of index cards from the bag. He looked at Tim curiously. “Are you going to leave the folio from Gertrude here?”

“No. I don’t think anyone’s going to come down here and find this, but if they do, I want them to think it’s Jon that set it up. And I don’t want to lose anything. The folio stays with me.” Tim pointed at the cards. “But I made typewritten copies of the highlights.”

“Why do I feel like we should have bought some red string while we were at it?”

“Red string is for conspiracy theorists.” Tim reached into the bag and came up, smirking, with a plain white ball in his hand. “Real theorists use the pure stuff.”

Gerry shook his head fondly. “You’re a nut. Right, how do we want to organize this?”

Tim shook his head in reply. “We don’t. Not yet. Let’s just get the cards up there, then we can start organizing. That’s why they’re pinned to a cork board, right? So we can move them around.”

“Good point,” Gerry allowed. “Okay, then, let’s get them up there.”

It took them a while, and most of a box of thumbtacks, but they finally got all the cards Tim had brought up on the board. Gerry grimaced at it. “Well. This is…even more confusing. And I think we’re going to need a bit more space.”

Tim shrugged. “Well, we’re set up now, at least for starters. We can get more panels and set them up before we really start digging into this.” He studied the cards. “We just…we need to figure out where the start of it is.”

Gerry slid his arm around Tim’s waist and hugged him, also studying the board. Words jumped out at him—circus and masks and skin and dancer—and none of them built up to a coherent picture. “Maybe we should start where we ended. With Gregor Orsinov. Or maybe we need to listen to a couple more tapes.”

“Mm. I don’t want to bring the whole box down here. They’re safer in the flat…maybe we can grab a couple and come back here to listen to them. But we’re going to have to start putting this puzzle together sooner or later.” Tim sighed. “At least there are a few edges in here, but someone needs to hand us a corner.”

“The answers are out there. We just need to find them.”

“Speaking of answers…” Tim glanced sideways at Gerry. “Mind telling me why you were staring so hard at me at the diner? And why you got so nervous when I offered to trade meals with you? You know, since we’re down here where we can’t be overheard or spied on and no one will know if we get in a fight.”

“Rowlf will. And I don’t want to fight with you.” Gerry did step away from Tim, though, and turn to face him, because Tim definitely wasn’t going to want to touch him when he said this. “I, uh…I was worried, a little bit. When you said you weren’t hungry. I…look, I know it’s dumb, and I know it was probably stress, but I, I got worried that maybe you didn’t…need to eat?”

A sad look came into Tim’s eyes. “Oh, Gerry.”

Now that he’d said it out loud, Gerry found he couldn’t stop. The words spilled out of him. “I know you’re not a monster, or an Archivist, or anything like that, but, but we both know you’ve been getting these powers and things have been getting bad for a while. You’ve compelled and threatened and Known and there’s been a lot of Ceaseless Watching going on, and then you said what you said when we were at Lake Baikal about getting energy from the statements and, you know, I actually can’t remember the last time I saw Gertrude put anything in her mouth other than tea and maybe she just didn’t eat around us but even when we were on the road I never saw her eating and it was like sometimes she forgot I needed to and I—”

“Gerry, Gerry.” Tim stepped into Gerry’s space, cupped his face in his hands, and pressed their foreheads together. He didn’t kiss him, but the skin contact did effectively shut him up. “It’s okay. I understand. I’m…I’m glad you were worried about me.”

“You are?”

“Yeah. It shows you care. And it shows you’re not willing to write me off if I do start going down that route,” Tim said quietly. Gerry swallowed and wrapped his arms around Tim’s neck without conscious thought. “But I promise, I’m okay. I just wasn’t hungry yet, but like I said, as soon as I smelled the bacon and eggs I was practically drooling. If I’m honest, I worried about you a bit, even though you’re not…you know. I was afraid you’d be too upset and stressed about everything—between Gertrude and your dad—to want to eat and I’d have to force-feed you. Especially after you implied you’d be willing to skip eating if it meant feeding me.”

“I…might have been,” Gerry admitted. “Between Gertrude, and dad, and you, I was kind of too keyed up to want to eat until I saw you were.”

Tim hugged Gerry tightly. “Thank you. For watching out for me. Because to tell the truth, babe, if I do start getting that bad I’m pretty sure I’m not going to notice until it’s too late. So if you can stop me…”

“I don’t know if I can,” Gerry said honestly, settling his chin on Tim’s shoulder and—for the first time in what felt like days—relaxing against him. “But I promise I’ll try. And if you do go fully monster, I’ll still be there for you, as long as I live.”

“I should have known you were a monsterfucker.” Tim laughed and let go as Gerry shoved him away with a playful thump to the chest. “Come on. Let’s get Rowlf home and come back tomorrow. We’ve got the place set up. We can start really working on it later, but for now we both need a good long rest.”

#ollie writes fanfic #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #and if thou wilt forget #tim stoker #gerard keay #slight arguments #grief #food #paranoia #panic

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taeyamayang · 4 years ago

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RUN

an interactive halloween au

GIST: this is an interactive halloween au wherein you play the protagonist of the story. throughout the plot you will meet (hq) characters. it is up to you to decide whether to trust them or not. more so, it is important to keep in mind that clues/hints can be found throughout the story. be wise and be keen.

RULES: upon posting, i will give the readers 24-48hrs to make a decision. after which answers will be tallied.

GOAL: you have to make the right choices to survive the night. failing to do so, you will reap the consequences of your actions.

text posts are included in the story (ignore the time on the texts).

goodluck.

On one bright autumn day, when the leaves are brown, and the edges turn crisp, you sit shotgun next to the boy you are recently dating. you relatively had a good intuition about him when you first saw him through a dating app, making your fingers instantly swipe to the right when his teeth showing smile fluttered your heart.

added to that, you realized that the soft-looking boy with a contagious smile is one of the nation's greatest spiker. how can you be so lucky to match with a renowned athlete? of course, you had to grab the chance to get to know the player.

"do you mind if i turn the music up? This song is my favorite road trip song!" he asks, his voice increasing, as the wind rushes inside the rolled-down window. his left forearm is resting on the car's door and his other hand is grasped around the steering wheel. he glances at you for a quick second before pulling his eyes back to the road.

"no, i don't mind at all!" you scream back and instantly, a smile on his face grows wider.

"sweet!" he says, quickly shifting his hands. his left hand is now controlling the wheel while his other hand navigates through the music player's screen.

a mainstream upbeat song fills in the air. the boy sings his heart out when the beat of the chorus drops, and shortly, you join him. you feel entirely comfortable with him. even during your first date you never felt the need to put on your best persona. with him, you feel okay with expressing who you are.

after countless vocal screeching and ear-deafening duets from the both of you, your eyes catch on a frayed local gas station right at the foot of the mountain where you two are heading.

"___, can we stop by the gas station for a while? the gas tank is half full but i want to make sure we have enough gas to get us by until tomorrow," he explains after turning down the volume of the music so you could hear him.

"okay, i'll pay for the additional gas we need." you generously offer, thinking that you have to play your part since he used his money on filling up the tank.

"you don't have to!" he responds, scratching the back of his head using one hand.

"i insist! don't worry about it, shoyo." you smile at him though his eyes are glued to the road.

"agh, when you say my name like that." he whimpers, dramatically clutches on his chest.

"you're such a dork, you know." you laugh at his theatrics.

he slowly rounds the gas station. he hits on the breaks when he pulls by next to the gas pump. a tall man with black hair wearing a uniform approaches the car. he crunches his back down, so his eyes level the window.

"the orange one, please." shoyo instructs the pump attendant.

"right on it, sir!" he enthusiastically says. surprisingly, this gas station has a relatively high-spirited employee despite the run-down image of the shop.

he puts the mouth of the pump inside the tank and pulls the lever up. a white pickup truck stops right behind where shoyo's car is parked. the attendee jogs his way to the vehicle behind where you at, leaving the pump by itself as it fills up the tank. the fuel dispenser dings when it finishes. you turn your gaze to the attendee who's busy conversing with the man behind the wheel of the truck.

"i'll do it." you pull the door handle open.

"you sure?" shoyo asks.

"yes, i know how to do this. i drive too." you assure your date by flashing the volleyball player a smile. you pull out the pump and place it at the side of the fuel dispenser. looking at the attendee still busy with the customer inside the truck, you decided to head to the cashier not far from shoyo's car.

"for that car please." you pointed at the iron-tinted suv car. the boy behind the counter pulls his eyes up from the screen of the phone he is holding when he hears your voice. his hair is bleached in blonde with his black roots showing at the top of his head. he cringes his nose when he sees you handing him money.

"kuroo!" he calls out a name. the tall boy sporting dark hair then whips his head in the blonde boy's direction. "what are you doing?! you left the customer unattended!" the blonde grunts.

"oops." kuroo smirks at the blonde boy as he walks to the cashier located at the middle of two fuel dispensers. "that man kept asking me questions. i couldn't leave him." he points at the white truck using his chin.

now that you are nearer to the white truck, it gives you the opportunity to scrutinize the details of the vehicle. the white paint is chipped, revealing rusty metal spots all over the body of the car. the plate number is grimed with dried up mud akin to the mud-stained wheels. your sight rolls up, meeting gaze with the man behind the wheel. he stares at you with his eyelids halfway down. he doesn't recoil when your eyes meet as if he wasn't ashamed of being caught looking at you. you, on the contrary, felt the need to pull your gaze to the side.

"it's okay." you smile at the boy behind the counter. the man inside the truck calls for kuroo, running his fingers through his umber hair, and the boy immediately obliges.

the blonde boy with dark roots takes your payment. he repeatedly shifts his eyes from the cash register and to shoyo's car as if he's fighting himself from asking a question. your phone, located inside the pocket of your pants, vibrates.

you see a text notification from shoyo.

you type in a quick reply before bringing your attention back to the boy behind the cashier.

The blonde fails to keep his curiosity to himself; he opens his mouth to speak.

"are you with him?" he questions. your eyes follow the blonde's forefinger pointing at shoyo, who's currently running towards the bathroom stall next to the small store of the gas station.

"yes." you say though you feel a tinge of hesitance.

"do you know him?" his voice drops an octave, whispering to you. his words gravitate more than merely small talk.

"yes, I do." you tell him though you start to doubt yourself. yes, you know him but not well enough to be confident about your answer. you went out with him several times and from those experiences you concluded that he's a good man.

"are you headed to the camping site at the top of the mountain?" the boy shifts the conversation.

"yes, we are! it's a famous hotspot, right?"

"used to be famous. not many come to visit the camping sight nowadays." he corrects you. your eyebrows pull together, and he senses your distress. "but don't worry, the locals come by to gather woods, and they're all kind people."

the blonde boy wraps the change inside the receipt then slides it over the hole at the bottom of the glass window across the table in your direction. you are not sure if you're overthinking things or did the mood changed when the boy started asking you condensing questions.

"can I have your number?" you ask, and the boy raises an eyebrow at you. nonetheless, he grabs a pen and taps it against the glass right below the plastered contact details.

"that's the gas station's number, but I keep that number active."

"thank you." you say as you save the contact in your phone.

"may know your name?" you ask.

"kenma. kozume kenma." he replies, smiling at you for the first time. the sound of the car door shutting catches your attention. shoyo is back from the bathroom and he's already starting the engine of the car. This signals you to head back.

"thank you again, kenma." you wave at him goodbye.

the drive up to the mountain is going smoothly despite the uneasiness kenma instilled in you during the stopover at the gas station. maybe he wanted to warn you of the dangers of the forest, and perhaps he's curious about your relationship with shoyo; that's why he asked. maybe he knew about shoyo's identity as a famous volleyball player and he wanted to know about the star's dating life.

there are countless possibilities why he asked those questions so instead of obsessing over 'what if's' you decided to shrug it off and enjoy the trip.

however, halfway through the mountain, the car shuts down. there are no other cars on the road except for the one you're riding. shoyo begins to panic as he twists the key inside the engine, hoping the motor will kick start again.

"we need to push the car to the side of the road and ask for help." shoyo says, and you both did. you pull out your phone from your pocket and text the man you know can help you.

kenma.

but the signal glitches hindering you from sending a text to him.

"there's no signal," you say.

"I'll get help from someone, maybe a local." shoyo continues. "you stay here." you feel uncomfortable being left behind, but you know you have to watch the car since it's your only way of transportation. so, you agree.

shoyo leaves you as he hikes deeper into the forest. after half an hour or so, your phone vibrates continuously. you fetch the device and see a flood of messages from shoyo.

your heart beats faster as you read the last bubble of texts

worried about his well-being, you follow the path he took while constantly looking back to where you were initially standing.

not long after you started your journey alone, you see a man squatting next to a tree. he has an ax hung over one shoulder and a pile of wood next to him. he's clothed with a worn-out jumper and a loose dirty white shirt with holes in it. he notices your presence from his peripheral vision and he turns his head to you, instantly locking eyes. his eyes match his hair, and his strong built figure sends shivers down your spine. he raises his eyebrow at you in question.

you have no idea what to do but you have to make a move.

[VOTINGS ARE CLOSED]

time to decide:

A. ask the man for directions

B. apologize for staring and walk past him

remember: I set out clues in the story so be mindful of that. these hints will help you with decision-making.

comment down your choice.

[see you in the next update]

a/n: please rb if you are reading! it will help me reach out to more people and get votes so i can continue the story~ thank youu~~ ♡

Masterlist

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bladekindeyewear · 5 years ago

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Bloggin’ thru new Homestuck^2 bonus, The Influencers part 2. Kinda got my gears ground during part 1, but that largely wasn’t this sideplot’s fault, so I should still be able to enjoy it.

Reminder, bonus update blogging is always light on detail because I don’t wanna spoil all the paid content, but I’ll give the gist of my reactions and go into anything plot or character related that helps understand the main story, as well as giving you a real top-down view of “what happens” so you know what it’s about and whether or not to invest in looking yourself. (And I don’t necessarily have to give you anything that isn’t main-plot-relevant.)

So where are they going to follow the main party? They shouldn’t need to record the funeral I’d assume, because that already would have been televised (and awful for Jane’s PR)... *click*

9/28/2020 - The Influencers, Part 2

TEACHER: Time’s a-ticking. TEACHER: The next plot point is yours to change, if you want it. Don’t you feel it calling to you?

Yeah, just hanging a lampshade on this whole parallel sideplot I guess.

> (==>)

Whatever it is, Imode feels it. A tiny string of relevance spooling out from their belly. They want to follow it.

That’s pretty Lighty and/or Seery. I’ve used that terminology to describe the pull of Light and its “relevance” connotations even since the only fanfic I’ve ever written, back in 2011 during Homestuck’s run, and it’s obvious enough terminology that I think Rose later mentioned it somewhere like in the Epilogues. Are these three kids perhaps going to get a fourth, and become their own session by the end of this like Harry, Vrissy, Tavros and Yiffy might?

They can’t stop picturing their friend, Harry Anderson, arrested or tortured or worse. They’re not sure what there is to be done to stop this chain of events, but they’re sure as shit gonna find out.

(”They” is almost certainly referring to Imode here, not all three, since Imode uses they/them.)

Alright, self-aggrandizing used for good. Show off the sort of thing that Vriska could have accomplished if she actually used her talents for her team for once. (Besides, like, the similar thing she did just recently by making a scene.)

> (==>)

Imode is the first to choose pursuing this path over bootlicking, and the others are sure to follow.

> (==>)

Yup, Avril and Silas follow. (Had to be reminded of ALL of their names, it’s been months since their single named appearance.)

> (==>)

Crockercopters overhead but none taking note yet, just ominous setdressing

> (==>)

IMODE: lemme take a ⏱️ to 😮‍💨 before we figure out where to go next. AVRIL: wait don't you know? IMODE: Huh? AVRIL: we were following YOU this whole time.

Oh, that answers the first question I asked. They have NO clue where they’re going. Let’s see if they luck out and find the clock tower.

IMODE: You �� what he said about the next step 📞 to us, same as i did. Don't you feel it pulling at you?

Literal pull? Powers? Future player? --All baseless speculation of course.

SILAS: Woah are you seein’ this.

Vriska’s probably putting on her very public display now. (This is a bonus so I’m skipping lots of banter and arguing.)

> (==>)

Oh, they just saw John flying up to the clock tower in his outfit. And catching sight of him fly is rare celebrity gossip stuff so of course it’d stand out to them, apparently. (Only one of them is athletic apparently, the other two are groaning at the prospect of more running.)

> (==>)

Avril always enjoys running, but there’s something else thumping along to the rhythm of the thuds of his feet and beat of his heart. He’d thought Imode was nuts for feeling it just a minute prior, but now he’s realized he isn’t deadweight, that he hasn’t fucked up someone’s life irrevocably, and it pushes him faster and faster as he tears ass toward the belltower.

(Did we know Avril was he/him before this? Probably but if so I forgot.)

Okay, since we’re getting glimpses into each of their headspaces narratively that BOTH have had some oblique aspect references, I have to at least OPERATE on a guessy assumption that there’s a sort of classpect-for-each-of-them thing going here.

I’ve quoted both those whole paragraphs here... so what do I see? This is going to be a bit tougher because I don’t care as much to remember these characters...

Imode had some Lighty-or-Seery language, and then could not stop picturing bad things happening to Harry, wanting to avert that chain of events. So something of a Seer or Mage would make sense. But given how easily Lighty stuff and the Understanding classes (or at least what we think those are) can be conflated, Mage of Light seems a bit of a premature jump. Heck, I’m only saying Mage because a Seer of Light already occupies a starring role, and because her first act on that feeling was to jump after it herself and tell the others:

IMODE: Stay here and 👢👅 your way into fame if that's what you really want. IMODE: I’m ✈️. Follow me if you’re not 🐔💩.

--leading by example rather than directing the others into battle. Only half-caring if they followed, willing to pursue it herself if necessary. So, potentially more “Active”.

As for Avril... the word “heart” is mentioned there, sure, but the full context is “there’s something else thumping along to the rhythm of the thuds of his feet and beat of his heart”. I’m inclined to think that the rhythm/beat references, especially the even footsteps and heartbeats hitting like a metronome, might be more tied to Time? But if so, I don’t see anything class-related. (Could also be Blood, and him thinking of what he owes in the last sentences could be reinforcing that? Big question marks for now.)

> (==>)

Door to the belltower’s locked. The kids figure John’s forgotten that his son can’t fly.

AVRIL: this is it, this is the thing we can help with! #feelinit #vibes IMODE: OK I'm excited that you believe me now, but what are you gonna even do? IMODE: use your big all-star 💪 to break down the 🚪?

--so they think they can “resolve a missing plot point” by getting the way into the clock tower open? Is this going to be a theme or running joke of the Influencers sideplot, showing plotholes resolved in bonus content like how we finally saw how Gamzee’s body was relocated last time? When I was explicitly mad about that? (This seems like a much smaller one though.)

Apparently in HS^2 proper they remarked that the door SHOULD be locked, but Vriska just opened it anyway and wasn’t surprised it was unlocked, which she would’ve ascribed to her luck -- how the universe just makes way for her. (And we’re literally seeing HOW the “universe” “made way” for her this way, through these Influencer kids. Even though Vriska could have broken down the door in a second and it’s practically meaningless.)

> (==>)

Avril just has the key!

AVRIL: so like my photoshoots are like, #modernfashion #myworkout #urbexp IMODE: Yea, your 📸 are why we’re all in this mess. We know. Get to it. AVRIL: fair. ok well this is the urban exploration part. AVRIL: a lot of the public infrastructure buildings in the kingdom have the same weird, shitty deadbolts on them. AVRIL: its like they were mass-produced for ease of access or something. AVRIL: none of the deep crockergov stuff, but a lot of the kingdom maintenance buildings. AVRIL: so once you swipe one key, you got access to it all. AVRIL: that’s how i get a lot of my hard-to-get shots #tradesecrets #tellnoone

Hhhmmmmm. So what does this tell us about his potential role? Getting places you’re not supposed to is associated with the Thief, Rogue, Bard, and sometimes Knight classes... as well as the Time/Space aspects, or the Void and Breath aspects. A Thief or Rogue of Time could do the trick, and fit with the rhythm paragraph earlier... whereas Space doesn’t have the same rhythm associations even if it is “places” he’s getting into for these shots. And photography, snapshots still in time, is something Dave was also explicitly into. Plus, this exploit he’s showcasing is specifically for older buildings, playing into history/archaeology from an urban perspective.

So, Time is looking like a safer and safer bet for him.

> (==>)

lock click

> (==>)

long-hair swoop, cheer

SILAS: Yeah, I’m tickled a near-disproportionate amount by the unlockin’ of a door, so I’m inclined to believe you were onto somethin’.

Still no real hints about Silas, yet.

AVRIL: ok so. we did it, right? #missioncomplete AVRIL: feels a little anticlimactic #tbh IMODE: idk, I think so? whatever I was feeling doesn't seem so immediate anymore. IMODE: I wonder if-

Okay, that’s some near-confirmation that Imode was LITERALLY FEELING the plot or some such. We’ll probably end the Influencers sidestory eventually with at least solid GUESSES blatantly obvious for their potential Hero Roles or the like.

> (==>)

Ah, Vriska and the kids are coming-- and we get the Silas paragraph(s)! Silas is green-themed with green text, and a session with a Time player has a good chance of having a Space player too, so let’s see if...

Silas doesn’t know what being spotted by the other kids might mean, metaphysically or logistically or legally. She’s not particularly pressed by that sort of thing. But this is a day that’s come with more introspecting than she’s used to having to endure in a year, so she's ready to get moving before it becomes an issue.

As Harry Anderson, Vrissy, Vriska, and Tavros proceed to have this conversation, Silas pushes to catch up with Avril’s pace. She’s not sure where they’re headed, and has no clue what all this means for her. She knows the step she’s taken isn’t one she’ll be able to backtrack from, but she’ll figure that out tomorrow. For now, one foot in front of the other.

That...

I mean there’s a lot of talk of time-FRAMES, from a lazy perspective, but just-pushing-forward-in-the-here-and-now is reasonably Spacey? ...hm. I was excited for the Silas paragraph(s) but I don’t see any immediately-apparent pattern meant for us to discern classpect info here. Maybe a female Page example (since we could use one), propelled along by events without knowing what’s going on at first, too early in her journey to have taken more than her first step up the gradual incline of her long-term potential?

I really don’t know I guess.

Anyway, that’s the end of the bonus upd8! See ya in a while.

#Homestuck #hs2 #Homestuck Liveblog #upd8 #Homestuck^2 #Avril Thorpe #Imode Kurita #silas p beauregard iii #spoiler #spoilers

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rigelmejo · 4 years ago

Text

listening reading method updates

Some updates because I’ve done Listening Reading Method maybe 10-15 hours within the past week and wow is it worth doing (for me) if done properly:

First some notes of what “properly” means for me: It means I’ve done step 2 at some point (since I’m using all books I have at least vague prior context for whether its this past year or in life I’ve seen them before). It means I do step 2 first. Then I do step 3, with parallel text so I keep my place OR do it in Pleco (doing step 3 in Pleco is strangely super effective for me).

So, I’ve been testing my general listening comprehension. How I’ve tested it: listening to some audio file of a chapter I did with L R method, and see if I can understand it better. So no text aid. Also generally some time gap (at least a few days) between when I did L R, and when I listen to test my comprehension.

Limits of test: this is not new material - I have both prior context of the plot, and doing L R method on the material before means I have intensively studied that audio material with L R method at one point. I’m trying to find some ‘totally unknown’ stuff to test with too we’ll see.

Benefits of the test: its easy to compare my progress, because I’ve listened to these audios many times so I know where my ‘comprehension’ of them was at a few months ago. I can more easily compare.

---

So anyway, has L R Method helped listening comprehension? YES god oh my god.

I listened to Chapter 9 of Guardian’s audiobook just falling asleep, because I didn’t feel like full on L R Method the chapter (I have done Listening Reading Method for chapters 1-8). I could understand enough to follow the entire main plot and all the main scenes - a few descriptive sentences lost me, but I got all the action-related (touched reached stood cried shouted left side pocket held objects movement and set phrases priest uses for certain expressions), key emotion related (like sad cold warm kind sharp worried investigated pushed shivered and set phrases I remember priest using for certain expressions) details, and got all of the main dialogue (this part context helps for though since words like reincarnation and sundial are fairly new to me and I only understand since I already ran into them in previous chapters I’ve done L R Method with).

I was freaking FLOORED I could just listen and enjoy the story, so today I listened to chapter 1 again. And YEP - same thing applied. I could follow all of the main plot, main scenes, and certain details. I totally missed the part where he talks about his aunt/uncle but I heard his bad grades, got the letter for a job notice, how he hates phone calls, his plan to go, him getting to the place, what the place looked like and Wang Zheng and all the scenes at the job - so like I mentioned, actions/emotions/real objects being interacted with I can mostly follow. The paragraphs of description background (like Guo Changcheng’s upbringing and how his uncle got him a job) are harder for me to catch everything - I am guessing because there’s more description phrases and less straightforward action=response. (For example - xiao guo sees Lao Wu, they respond, so its easy to follow, or he sees Wang Zheng and faints, or he walks into the courtyard and reads the address - all of these moments directly focus on things and react which is easier to follow).

For the first time I can say I can listen to just the audiobook and follow it enough to enjoy the plot and what’s mainly going on without any text aid. And I’ve only done the listening reading method for 8 chapters! That’s 40-50 minutes a chapter, around 360 minutes or 6 hours. 6 hours spent Listening Reading Method Guardian, and I already see a huge boost in what I can comprehend in listening! (I also did some random L R method chapters of other stuff so add 1-2 hours - that’s still like 8 hours total... that ain’t much).

Last time I listened to guardian audiobook without any text aid (a few months ago), I could hear some words I knew and some phrases, and had a vague understanding of when he got to the job (heard courtyard and si ming hao), met Lao Wu (i heard him report for duty), when he talked to zhao yunlan and got generally welcomed, met Wang Zheng and thought ‘he has no feet’ and got scared. No fucking details. The vaguest impression of the main plot mainly because I’ve read the chapter before and knew the scenes coming. But that was still eons better than Before That - around 6 months ago i listened to chapter 1 like 5 times until i could hear some phrases instead of just isolated words.

This time, I could follow things because I could HEAR what was actually going on, not just because I heard some keywords. I could clearly hear the details about Guo Changcheng entering the courtyard, reading the address and special investigations name, go up to Lao Wu and report in and Lao Wu greet him warmly and excitedly mention how lucky it is he came today that their boss is there! And fawn over how cool the boss is, and all the specifics of the convo with Zhao Yunlan (and half of his appearance like how he’s handsome and heroic looking and had a hand in his pocket and seemed cold until he noticed them and smiled and acted warm and friendly). And all the scenes were like that - like with Wang Zheng I could hear all the details of Guo Changcheng freaking out, eventually noticing her head had been cut and it wasn’t a necklace it was like sewn on and how he passed out. It was soooo much better ToT. The amount of comprehension is sooooo much higher than the last time I tried to listen! It shocks me how much better! This is enough comprehension to actually listen and just enjoy it. ToT

So yeah, I’d say Listening Reading Method, as I’m doing it right now, is making noticeable improvements in my reading skill and listening skill.

So yeah I’m super curious how listening comprehension is gonna be 20 chapters into Listening Reading Method.

What I do think this would be good for, if you were studying short term? If you wanted to understand a specific audiobook - doing L R Method with the book until you can listen to the rest. It would probably take a short enough amount of study to do within a month if you already have some skills in the language (since this is with 6-8 hours of study). I saw someone once do SRS Flashcard study based on a show they liked in a foreign language, and within a month they could watch that show they liked without english subs and follow the main plot. I think L R Method with a novel works kind of similar - its intensive study on one story. So within a reasonably short amount of time (10-50 hours maybe, something that can be done within a month) you can get enough comprehension skill of that One story to understand it ok.

I imagine you need to do L R Method longer, and with either a word dense material (lots of varied vocab) or else multiple stories (ideally different authors and genres), in order to get broader listening skill improvement. Like right now my listening skill in general seems to have improved somewhat... but its more like ‘listening to a show without subs’ is now easier. Not like I can turn on a brand new audiobook and follow it this well. So some slightly easier listening activity is now easier, but for other audiobooks I am probably comprehending more but the listening skill improvement is NOT as drastic as it is specifically with Guardian.

Testing listening comprehension with materials I have not L R Method with:

Alice in Wonderland (story is shorter/simpler than novel): I can follow it mostly when listening only. I can follow it near entirely (know exactly what’s going on just a few words I don’t recognize) if I’m looking at the video (since it has pictures for context - like watching a show). My listening comprehension drops noticeably if I do NOT look at the video visuals for an aid - since I am used to Alice in Wonderland hitting the original novel beats, not this shorter movie-based version. This level of comprehension makes sense, as its written simpler than Guardian so I should have an easier time following details in this. But lack of context means I have to put more effort into figuring out what scene is what if I don’t have any visual cues. So easier ‘written’ audiobook material is much more comprehensible now (easier than Guardian even since I know most words), but I still need context like an image or prior awareness of the overall plot or else I need to pay more careful attention to follow everything: https://youtu.be/HqCg5y8Nwhg

Sherlock Holmes 血字的研究: Some benefit just like Alice in Wonderland in that I have broad context (I know Watson and Sherlock live and work together to solve issues, Watson is a verteran and doctor). First 5 minutes I can vaguely tell its probably Watson narrating, that he lives in London, that before he might have been injured (I heard bing like sick or?) - I’m truly not sure what happened, and now after 5 minutes I heard ‘great friend’ and ‘touched shoulder’ and ‘gaoxing’ so happy. So I’m guessing Sherlock and Watson are interacting now. What improvement in my listening comprehension I can Notice - is that words stick out, phrases, and sentence structures (like finally, since, therefore, actions). So I feel if I paused I might be able to look up some words I notice but can’t understand, to follow along better. As the 2 of them have their conversation I can catch SOME details and I could probably follow what’s going on IF I had some prior context (like what the general case is about). But I only hear - its a pity, what happened last night, poor lad, fangzi, destination. So i’m not sure if someone died or was hurt or what happened the other night?? But again, conversations seem to be the easiest part to follow. For this particular audiobook I almost feel like if I just kept consistently listening or re-listening, I could understand more... like I probably know more words than I’m catching, but since my brain’s working on trying to catch the main gist plot right now its not grasping any details I might otherwise be able to notice. No prior context of plot, no image - hard lol. Unlike guardian, I cannot follow most of it. But I can catch bits of each scene, most clear are the dialogue parts (but cause I have no surrounding contexts I’m still pretty lost). Also the clear action parts are easier to follow (he spoke, moved, reacted to something). Mostly the lack of context is what’s making me struggle. In the descriptions I hear a lot phrases and words I recognize, but I’m struggling to comprehend them together. Unfortunately context is mostly in the description parts I can’t figure out lol. https://youtu.be/J1sbP6_3680

I suspect an audio DRAMA might be a little easier now. Since they’re mostly dialogue, and dialogue seems to be what I’m finding the most improvement in (from very vague to some of the clearest comprehended parts). I listened to tian ya ke audiodrama a few days ago and it was doable to follow along with - but that was before more Listening Reading Method, and of course my prior context (having seen the show/read part of the novel) means it was muchhhh easier to follow cause I had enough context to guess which scene each moment was supposed to be - so I didn’t have to figure out overall context, just details.

#rant #may #may progress #listening reading method #l r method #i'm also hella curious if just listening to guardian audiobook would produce any benefit - perhaps consolidate my skills and help make #future audiobooks easier?#anyway basically my summary is: how i have BEEN doing L R method this month is hugely effective for me rn #and note to future self: SPECIFICALLY doing it THIS way - with pleco or a parallel text for step 3. and doing STEP 2 (which is helping with #reading).#i am mostly surprised by how Little time investment this has taken. i've done maybe 1-3 hours a day. i remember on the l r method original #article site - the person said 30 hours for a closely related language. and like 50-100 hours for a less transparent language #and like. i have only done maybe 8 hours max this month. and maybe 15 hours MAX the entire time i've tried l r method this past year #so i'm not even at 30 hours - which is when i should start understanding 'some'. im wondering if the improvement is faster since #im not an actual beginner in chinese. i have some base skill #which - since im only trying l r method in languages ive already studied i have some base skill any time i try this #anyway 6-8 hours so far is NOT a very big time cost to get the reading/listening improvements im seeing #like? i talked about listening in this update because thats what l r method is SUPPOSED to improve

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 5 years ago

Text

Roguish Women Part 22

Summary: Kate Rosseau is an American who fled to Paris to escape her past life. Now she's dancing and playing the part of a courtesan at the Moulin Rouge. There she meets Tommy Shelby who thinks she can be useful in expanding his empire. But has he been blinded?

Part 22: Kate thinks she has to say goodbye, Tommy thinks otherwise

Tommy’s blood boiled. Maybe it was because he had assumed his presence in Kate’s life was enough to ward Santo off. He thought his protection was enough. It had been over two years and the man hadn’t tried to approach her at all. Now he appeared out of nowhere and harmed her?

But he couldn’t plan too far ahead as Kate was in tears in front of him.

“I’m so sorry. I never wanted to put this on your family, I should have known better. I should have left sooner.”

“Stop apologizing, s’alright.” Tommy struggled to keep his anger in check. But he knew she didn’t need him to lose his cool. He tried to wrap his arms around her as a comfort but she stepped away from him.

“I have to go.” Her voice broke as she struggled with the words. It was necessary, she knew that, but it was tearing her apart to tell him. “I have to go back to America.”

He frowned. “What? Not with him.” Never in a million years did he think she would willingly go back to the States with Santo.

“I don’t have a choice anymore.” She wiped her tears but it was in vain. Her eye makeup was already smudged there was no hiding her fear.

“Yes, you do. You have a choice to stay here. I won’t let him hurt you, Kate.” He moved toward her, reaching out and cupping her cheek.

“He won’t hurt me.” She hiccupped and wrapped her fingers around his wrist. It was impossible to push him away. She couldn’t help but indulge in his touch. Something that was so fleeting in her life. It was difficult enough knowing that she would never really know what it was like to be loved by him. But perhaps those little touches would be enough.

“Kate-”

“He said he’d kill you. He’d kill your family. He’d kill Alfie. I could never let that happen so I have to leave. I have to-I can’t let him-I can’t-” Kate’s knees went weak.

Tommy enveloped her in his arms, not letting her crumble to the ground. He pressed a hand to the back of her head, letting her bury her face in his chest as she cried. His jaw tensed as he held her upright. He was ready to end this chapter in Kate’s life. No more would she have to worry about Santo. She could be content to live there with him for as long as she pleased. “I love you.”

She sobbed harder against his white button-down. “Tommy, please, don’t. You’ll only make it worse.” She begged.

“I love you, Kate. And I won’t let that bastard do anything. He can’t come into my fucking territory and threaten anyone.” He asserted.

Being held by him, for a moment, Kate could believe him. His arms were so strong and warm. She could hear his heart beating fast against his chest. It felt like a safe haven, a shield. But she had enough sense to know it wouldn’t be enough.

“I need to face facts. I’ve been running too long and I just can’t anymore.” She tried to get a hold of herself but Tommy wasn’t making it any easier on her. She didn’t want him to let go of her even if she knew it had to be done. “I can’t hide anymore. There are just things you won’t understand. Things I can’t tell you.”

“You don’t need to tell me anything.” Tommy wasn’t too keen on letting her go either. He let his fingers slip through her hair, his other hand resting on her back, drawing her flush to him. She felt so much smaller in his arms than she usually seemed. Her personality gave her a larger than life presence. But when Tommy could wrap her up in his arms, she felt more fragile. She shook like a leaf, but there was a warmth to her that made him breathe a bit slower.

“I love you, Tommy.” She looked up at him. “But this isn’t your fight, it’s mine.”

He shook his head. “You’re wrong. He made it my fight when he put his fucking hands on you.”

Kate could see the flash of anger behind his eyes. “But-”

“Let’s get you inside.” He stopped her and reluctantly let go of her. “We can talk more in there.”

~~~~~~~~~~

As Kate sat and listened, Tommy informed his brothers of the situation. John and Arthur kept throwing her small looks of concern but she couldn’t say anything. She was too deep in thought. She hardly even heard Tommy instruct the two on what they were going to do. But she got the general gist of the plan.

Santo would be taking Kate to the port to leave for America. Meanwhile, the Shelbys would step in and get them to a quieter location. There, Tommy could dispose of Santo. Done and done. It sounded simple enough but it relied on knowing if Santo would have any sort of backup on hand and on Kate convincing him that she was going with him willingly.

Once things were detailed out, Tommy sent John and Arthur to go get started on the plot. After they left, he knelt down in front of Kate.

She forced a smile and cautiously let her fingertips graze over his cheek. He leaned into her touch. She let out a choked laugh. “Y’know I think I fell in love with you the second you helped me in Paris.”

The corner of his lips turned upward. “Yeah?”

“I guess I just never recognized it because I’ve never been in love before.” She admitted sheepishly.

He chuckled and rested a hand over hers. “Things will be alright. You trust me, aye?”

Kate swallowed and nodded.

“Good.” He stood up and kissed her forehead. The gesture was so tender that it brought fresh tears to her eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~

Kate returned to Small Heath soon after. It was difficult for Tommy because it felt like he was sending her off to a lion for a feast. Knowing Santo was out there, aware of where she was, it made him extremely uneasy. But she had to play the part in order for their plan to go through.

So, she went back into her flat and began the task of packing her things. She took her time, carefully folding each piece of clothing. Most of it was from Birmingham. There wasn’t much she had brought from Paris all those years ago. The red dress she wore to her first derby when she had to step out in front of Grace to protect her from Billy Kimber. The dress she wore to the reopening of the Garrison when Tommy asked her to burn her past. The dress she wore to Epsom when she thought she truly had lost the only man she ever loved. The dress she wore to Grace and Tommy’s wedding. The dress she wore to the dinner. The dress she wore to the funeral. Each of them carefully packed away in her suitcase.

The sun was set by the time she was done. And when she was finished, she sat at her small kitchen table and began to write a letter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was three days before Santo returned with the tickets. He called several times each day to make sure she hadn’t fled. Each time she heard his voice it filled her with dread. But it was nothing like seeing him at the door. Her stomach dropped when he smiled. He knew he had won.

“Ready?”

Kate nodded and lifted her suitcase.

“Oh, no, allow me.” He picked up the case and brought it to the car that was waiting.

As she walked to the open car door, she happened to meet the eye of someone she didn’t recognize. But they were watching her. And when she reached the car, the man sitting on the stoop of the flat across the street, stood and immediately lit a cigarette. His eyes flitted to the rooftop above her head.

It was no coincidence. It was a signal. The Shelbys had been informed she was leaving.

~~~~~~~~~~

Santo tried to engage her in conversation on the train ride to the docks. But when she refused to answer, he resorted to reading his newspaper. After all, he couldn’t hurt her while they were in public. Kate knew to take advantage of that fact.

She simply looked out the window of the train car as the world passed by so quickly. Her heart was racing and she couldn’t stop fidgeting.

Santo appeared to notice but he only glanced up at her from over his newspaper for a brief moment. She met his eyes but didn’t let anything by as far as her facial expressions. So he frowned and returned to his reading.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The line to board the ship was long and it would obviously take time to get on. Santo didn’t seem too bothered and even struck up a casual conversation with the man ahead of him about a rugby match or a football match, Kate wasn’t sure. She didn’t care. There were other plans on her mind.

She touched Santo’s arm to get his attention. “I’m just going to ask that officer if he knows how long this will take.”

He looked at her with a bit of distrust. But it seemed that the gesture of showing him some sort of affection was enough to sway him over. “Alright, go ahead.” He nodded.

Kate left her case with him and went to approach the police officer who was managing the line. She pulled out her purse and got his attention.

~~~~~~~~~~~

There was no reason to fan out. Tommy, Arthur, and John could look like they were blending in, no problem. He reckoned it wouldn’t be too difficult to get to Kate and Santo in the line. It was a gamble, however, in trying to get them to another location. Tommy couldn’t analyze a man he’d never met. But he could bargain that Santo wouldn’t cry out for help from the police. Most mafia men didn’t. And Tommy expected that three to one were some good odds. Above all, he was relying on his adrenaline and determination to see him through.

But the three brothers didn’t even make it past the sidewalk. There, five uniformed police officers were waiting. One seemed to recognize him and held out a hand to stop him.

“’Scuse me, sir, need to have a word with you.” The cop said.

Two officers each began to surround John and Arthur, starting to remove their caps and frisk them for weapons.

“What’s the issue?” Tommy asked, not in the mood to deal with the police.

“There’s been a report that three men of your description are in a conspiracy to attack this ship.”

“Bollocks.” John scoffed and rolled his eyes, clearly not pleased with the men going through his pockets.

“Afraid you’re mistaken.” Tommy was tense but tried to keep a cool head. “We’re just here to see some family off.”

“Sir,” One of the officers removed a pistol from Arthur’s holster.

Tommy looked over the man’s shoulder and saw that the line to board the ship was dwindling. Anxious that they were running out of time, or were already too late, he tried to hasten the interaction. “How much will it take for you boys to turn a blind eye, aye? Name your price and let us be on our way.”

“’Fraid that’s not how it works.” The cop in front of him looked angered with the idea of bribery.

Tommy swallowed, his eyes locked on the line of people that was disappearing over the gangplank of the ship. “Fuck…” He whispered under his breath. And in a move that never failed, Tommy faked out the officer and ducked around him to sprint toward the line. “Kate!” He called. There wasn’t enough time to be conspicuous. He had to act now. “Kate!”

But none of the people in line turned. There were less than ten people still waiting. None of them were Kate. She was already on the ship.

Dread dropped to Tommy’s stomach like a large ice cube. He continued running to the railing of the dock overlooking the ocean. “KATE!” He shouted.

The ship's horn sounded loudly over the port. A deafening signal that he was too late.

Moments later, the police officer caught up to him and accosted him, roughly wrenching his arms behind his back.

“Sir, you’re under arrest…”

The words fell on deaf ears. Tommy couldn’t tear his eyes from the ship. He had lost her. Someone knew about their plot and stepped in to stop them. She was gone.

Permanet Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @giftofdreams @biba3434 @kimmietea @karmezii @enrapturedbythemoon @vampgirl1997

Tag list: @radical-gecko @actorinfluence @meltingicequeen

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Masterlist

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelbyxoc #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #ofc #oc #season 3 #arthur shelby #john shelby #original character #cillian murphy #cillian murphy character #cillian murphy fanfiction

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bibliophileiz · 5 years ago

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A (not really) Ode to bucklemming

Last bucklemming episode, and you guys, it was just such a classic example of their stale mediocrity. And yet, at the end of this post, I found myself bizarrely happy with how the episode turned out.

This is the second time I’ve watched it, and while I was planning to just liveblog my thoughts, I realized quickly that would not work, because most of the episode is boring and miserable, (especially the first third or so) and that makes for boring and miserable note-taking. I think I said in a tag of a different post that Dabb assigning this one to bucklemming is just further proof that he hasn’t cared about plot at all this season, and honestly, I don’t know there’s much they COULD have done to make this plot entertaining. Chuck even says at one point that it ... isn’t entertaining.*

The first third or so is basically Sam, Dean, and Jack being miserable with nothing around them break that misery up (except, briefly, a dog). And that makes for a miserable viewing experience. Here are a handful of notes I took that give you the gist:

- Chuck standing there talking about how loneliness and no-people is “deep” and a “page-turner” is such a gratifying little critique of shitty writers who like their gritty stories about permanently miserable protagonists. Like dude, you know there’s a reason nobody rereads “The Road,” right? - Dean slurring his words because he’s hungover is the first time anything interesting has happened with the dialogue in this whole episode. - Rob Benedict is the only one who gets to inflect his dialogue this episode. I do think his acting in that last scene is great, where he’s screaming, “Guys, wait!” as they drive off. It’s not a terrible ending scene.

So there’s that. Now here are my notes not-related to how stale and boring everything is:

Beginning: -The shots of Kyoto and New York City remind me of all the shots in NYT and other major newspapers after COVID shut everything down last spring (except in this case all the traffic would still be in New York, just no people). - “I couldn’t save anybody.” Poor Sam. (must push down feelings about Sam’s leadership arc and how it always seems to end with people dying, ugh, repress, repress!) - Also, I wanted to see a shot of a sink running and one of them turning it off. Just a random thing.

Archangel stuff: - I guess it makes sense to lose Adam if you’re going to kill Michael at the end, but goddamn if Michael isn’t a way more boring character without him. - Ah, Lucifer, a.k.a bucklemming’s attempt at comic relief. I’m starting to miss the boring dialogue. - Ooh, awesome, the only female character in the episode shows up bound and gagged and immediately murdered so she can be used and then murdered again. (Also, the first time I watched this scene, I was sure she wouldn’t wake up and was gearing up to laugh at Lucifer for sucking.) - Jensen stays as far away from her as he can when he unties her, I’m sure that actress appreciates him trying not to give her COVID. Course then she immediately ruins it by head-butting him, which is NOT practicing social distancing. - Many have commented on whether Lucifer can actually kill Death by snapping his fingers. We don’t know, but the Scythe WAS right there, and if Dean can kill Death with it (twice), I’m sure Lucifer can. - On the other hand, it IS established lore that God doesn’t have power in the Empty. Presumably he could negotiate with it like Death, and possibly he just took advantage of the loud chaos of Jack exploding, Death dying, the Empty apparently being super pissed, etc. to sneak in and make off with Lucifer. - Also WHY DO ALL THE ARCHANGEL FIGHTS IN THIS SHOW SUCK ASS???? - “I haven’t been in a battle like that in several centuries,” Michael says, as if he just fought the Battle of the Blackwater in Game of Thrones, and not what appeared to be the archangel equivalent of Mario Kart.

And climax/last scene: - But the best moment of the episode is when they GET BACK UP BLOODY AND HOLDING ONTO EACH OTHER AND ABSOLUTELY BEAMING BECAUSE THEIR LITTLE BOY IS ABOUT TO BECOME GOD. - Also, I like the music in this scene. And it seems like it’s the same place they used to film the end of Season 12/beginning of Season 13, which was probably peak Dabb era, ngl. (Jensen as Michael was also great.) - I also like that Jack and Chuck are both wearing light jackets, but Jack’s is a leeeeeetle whiter. - Chuck looking at the blank book is that moment in every writer’s life, when they’re like, “NOOOOOO, the computer DELETED EVERYTHING I WROTE.” - “Dean Winchester, the ultimate killer” You guys, 10 is Chuck’s favorite season. - Of course it is sweet that Cas’s last words seem to have had an effect on Dean, how he goes from “That’s (killing) all I know how to do” to “That’s not who I am.” I’m far from the first person to point that out though. - What happened to Amara is THE WORST. - Also, I am annoyed that Jack isn’t going home with them, because I really wanted him to be God, and a hands-off one, but I also wanted him to drive the Impala and solve crimes, ya know? - Jared at least seems to understand that this ending is upsetting, because Sam has tears in his eyes, whereas Dean is just kind of like, “ah, he’s leaving.” Which is fine because DEAN AND JACK ARE NOT AS CLOSE AS SAM AND JACK, fight me. - Him disappearing into light is stupid, though. - At least Dean and Sam get to sit close to each other at the end. I wonder if that was the first scene shot after they got out of quarantine. - WHERE ARE THEY DRIVING? - Maybe to go see Jody. - WE GOT BELA AND CROWLEY AND ANNA IN THE MONTAGE HELLZ YEAH, ALSO ABBADON AND ELLEN AND RUFUS, but we also got fucking Asmodeus and Ketch and no Benny, what the fuck, Showalter?

So I have questions.

Some of them are unimportant, like how did people in restaurants at the end react when they found themselves looking at food that seems to have undergone days’ worth of rot in the blink of an eye? Also, you got a shot of a full airport at the end, but that begs the question: were there airplanes in the sky at the time Chuck snapped everyone away, and did they crash, and did the people on them get snapped back into crashed airplanes and was that not super confusing for them and did the airlines lose billions of dollars because all their planes crashed right before COVID shut them down anyway and if all that’s the case is it really any wonder they needed a bailout from the federal government?

But some of them are plot-relevant and could have helped an episode in desperate need of it.

For example, I want to know what’s going on with the Empty, and if Mark Pellegrino had talked about it for more than two seconds, I might not have hated every second he was on screen. Also, there are other things happening this episode. Like Jack walking around sucking life and “power” out of plants catches Dean and Sam’s attention immediately. We know that, because we see them noticing it and exchanging confused glances in the flashback at the end of the episode.

Here’s the thing though: Why not have that in the beginning? It’s not a Huge Reveal, and it would have given Jensen and Jared something to do in that stale boring beginning other than Make Sad Face. As pretty as Jensen and Jared are, and as good as they are at making sad faces, you cannot build an entire episode around that.

Related, there isn’t actually much of a beat in the plot where it makes sense for them to figure out Michael will betray them for God. It seems like it will happen in that conversation between Dean and Michael when Michael expresses his hurt that Chuck let Lucifer out of the Empty before even asking for help. But at that point, it seems Sam and Dean have already come up with their plan. The flashback makes it seem as if they began to suspect Michael would betray them when Lucifer called him a cuck, something I think they made a plot point purely to have the word “cuck” in the episode for the third time.**

There are a few hopeful beats that show that bucklemming understand on some level that there needed to be some flow to this episode, such as the dog and Dean thinking he may have gotten Cas back. But I don’t think those are substitutes for showing Sam and Dean come up with their plan to defeat God. Even if you don’t want to reveal that they know Michael will betray them, you can still get one scene in there of them saying something like, “You think this’ll work?” if you just cut two minutes of Michael’s boring monologue in the church and/or Lucifer’s bullshit.

It follows this weird pattern of bucklemming once again seeming to not find Sam and Dean particularly interesting, so they don’t spend any time writing them DOING anything, or at least succeeding at anything, because they’d rather write Lucifer killing women and generally being an asshole.

So ... who cares, right? It’s bucklemming, they were bound to be mediocre-to-bad anyway, it kind of makes sense for Dabb to give them this episode because nepotism definitely makes it a best case scenario. And while I take issue with Dabb as a showrunner, I do think he’s great at standalone episodes and character stuff, so I’m not too terribly worried about next episode. I just think there were things about this episode that could have sucked less.

There ARE things about it that were fine, dare I say even good. It was in my notes, but I just want to emphasize that I LOVED the shot of Sam and Dean getting up bloody and broken, holding onto each other and grinning their asses off knowing that Chuck’s about to lose to Jack, and they get to see it! They may very well have gone into that fight expecting to die -- Chuck nearly just zapped them from existence, which would have still unleashed God-power for Jack to soak up.

The ending scene is pretty good, with Sam and Dean seeming like they’re still pretty beaten down, but trying to get it together. That’s more Jensen and Jared’s acting than anything bucklemming wrote, but it’s still good. The montage is good (although I will say for like the third time, where. the fuck. was Benny?)

Jensen’s acting over the dog was SO SOFT (doesn’t he have a dog?). I half-expected the dog to run to him at the end, which would have been cute.

There are also things that were ... potentially good, if they’d been brought up correctly? I actually really like that Jack is going to be “hands-off” (although I like less that he and Sam will never see each other again, but Dabb did say it was going to be a bittersweet ending, so ....).

I also -- and God, I’m going to get hate mail for saying this -- don’t mind that he didn’t bring Cas back. That highlights the difference between him and Chuck. Chuck brings back Sam and Dean (and, in Season 5 at least, Cas) over and over again, not out of love, but just to throw them back into their exhausting existence. In contrast, Jack NOT bringing anyone back (except the people who’d been snapped out of existence, which I would argue is more about putting the world on its proper course again, as opposed to “violating the natural order,” as Billie would put it). He knows he has to let people go. You could argue that’s always been his arc -- he and Cas even talk about how hard it will be for them to one day lose Sam and Dean back in Season 14 when they think Dean is dying.

But I wish there had been dialogue exploring THAT instead of the weird vague stuff about how he would always be a part of them. It doesn’t have to be anything super analytical like what I just wrote, it just has to be him saying, “I understand that in order to be a just god, I have to let things go and be at peace.”

(However, if the reason they DIDN’T go that direction is they didn’t want Dean to be like, “You know, he’s right,” next episode and not rescue Cas from the Empty, then I’m fine with them leaving that out. Screw the natural order, Dean -- go rescue Cas from the Empty!)

I also really really really want to get some sense that Sam’s faith has been rewarded. We got a tiny glimmer of that this episode in the hushed, awed way Jared delivers the line, “Are you really ... him?” Sam has always been the one with faith in a just and loving God, and one of the things that aggravated me about the end of Season 14 was his faith being so blatantly not rewarded, in favor of promoting Dean’s more cynical take on God.

The show has always, since the very first season, raised questions about where God is, whether his will is just, and how we know we’re following it, and the main characters all have different answers to that -- Sam’s being the more faithful, optimistic view of “God is good”, Dean’s being the more critical “If God is good then why do bad things happen?”, and, most interestingly, Cas’ viewpoint largely fluctuating with his own sense of identity and self-worth. The point is, we had all three of these opinions on God, without the show ever explicitly saying which one was right.

Until very recently, I thought it should have stayed that way. But now I love the idea that Sam’s faith in God was rewarded not by Chuck, but by Jack -- the very boy he took under his wing and raised as his own son, the boy who understands that he is good and that people are good largely because SAM TAUGHT HIM THEY CAN BE. It’s just so beautiful, and I’m getting more and more happy about this ending as I write about it, actually, so maybe I don’t entirely hate Jack’s ending after all.

That was a happier note than I planned on ending this on. I guess that is how you stop worrying and tolerate bucklemming.

Goodbye, bucklemming. I hated many of your episodes, but I will miss you and your weird, inconsistent writing that was so entertaining to pick apart and analyze and make fun of. I hope you find some cop shows where you can churn out more mediocrity and make some money. And in the meantime, stop killing off women.

*Yet another example from this season of the writers intentionally writing a bad episode to highlight the fact that Chuck is a bad writer. NEWSFLASH DABB: Bad writing is still bad writing, I don’t care if the villain of the story is the writer, I still don’t want to watch it if it’s bad.

**Which is such a bizarre insult to use. Isn’t it slang for a guy who’s wife cheats on him? I swear I’m not innocent or sheltered, I have just literally never heard anyone use that insult in a real context in my entire life.

#how i learned to stop worrying and tolerate bucklemming #this is the last time i get to review one of their episodes i'm getting a little choked up #not really #supernatural spoilers #supernatural #supernatural home stretch #this episode was boring and miserable but the end was decent

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honeypiehotchner · 5 years ago

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Beautiful Stranger (Chris Evans x OFC) -- part one

Hello again! This is a soulmate story. The general gist is you hear your soulmate’s laughter. I won’t say much more because it’ll all come with the story, but that’s the premise. This is in first person with an original female character (OFC), but it’ll also bounce around with third person to show some of Chris. Enjoy!

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, depression, purposeful isolation, insecurities, etc. (Basically, if you want a completely happy story, this might not be for you!)

There’s something about all this soulmate business that makes my skin crawl. Blame it on my parents, blame it on my own insecurities that stemmed from my parents, or blame it on my own cynicism that I’m 99% sure I developed on my own time. Whatever is to blame, the idea of soulmates makes me want to crawl into a cave and never come back out again.

But I can’t do that. So, instead I settle for being “severely introverted” as my last therapist put it. We tiptoed around other phrases like “generalized anxiety” or “severe depression” but none of them seemed to stick.

I’ve since stopped seeing that therapist. I’m not depressed; I’m actually quite happy with the life I live. I’m not anxious; I just don’t particularly enjoy going out to parties and on dates with random strangers to fill my time. And I’m not introverted; I’m a homebody. Always have been.

“Okay, forget labels--” This wonderful, too-optimistic-for-her-own-good of a person is my best friend, Camile. “I’m just saying Bluebird--” That would be her nickname for me. “I think it could be good for you to get out.”

“I told you I don’t want to go out,” I absentmindedly reply to her. This conversation barely needs any effort anymore to continue because we have it so often. “Also, no offense, but I’d really rather not third wheel with you and Jack again.”

“Come on,” Camile whines. “You need to laugh! How do you think your soulmate feels?”

“I’m sure they’re fine,” I give her a tight smile. “And I will laugh. I’ll watch some John Mulaney tonight.”

Camile gives me a very, very tired look. “Fine. I’ll get you out of here at some point.” She pats the couch for emphasis. “Well, since you’re not going to come with me, I’m gonna go get ready.”

“Have fun,” I tell her, and I really do mean it. “Tell me all about it.”

“If you’d come with me I wouldn’t have to,” she presses further, grabbing her purse off the kitchen counter.

“Then where would I be? What would I do without our phone calls?”

“You’d be just fine,” Camile gives me a look. “And maybe you’d be with your soulmate.”

I scoff loudly, picking up the remote from beside me. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I think you’ve got me beat,” she pulls the front door open. “Talk to you tomorrow.”

“Looking forward to it.”

As promised, I pull up John Mulaney’s comedy special, The Comeback Kid. Halfway through the intro, though, I start to hear laughter again.

The idea of a soulmate might make me want to scream, but the sound of their laughter does not. It’s -- without sounding too cheesy -- music to my ears. It blocks out John Mulaney and all I can hear is the sweet melody that graces my ears a lot more often than I expect.

Whenever I do hear their laughter, it does make me feel a little guilty. I know I don’t laugh as much as I should, but laughter in my house as a kid wasn’t seen the way everyone else sees it. I still remember nights when my mom would throw things at the wall in frustration because dad was laughing -- wherever he was.

They absolutely could not stand one another. They tried to make it work, but it failed. It’s rare for that to happen -- for soulmates to despise one another, but it isn’t entirely impossible, either. As proven by my parents.

Another round of laughter fills my ears, this time a full on cackle. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re doubled over, either.

It’s enough that it makes me laugh, too, and as soon as I do, their laughter trickles away.

I stare blankly ahead, now suddenly aware of how loud John Mulaney is delivering jokes. And how deafening the silence is when it follows my soulmate’s laughter.

+++

“So, Chris, tell us about your new movie that’s coming out.”

Chris smiles and begins relaying the plot of the movie that his publicist told him he could say. He doesn’t mind doing press that much, but he thinks he’d mind it less if it wasn’t the same questions over and over again. And if he could actually talk about the movie itself.

Once he finishes, the interviewer cracks a joke, so Chris laughs -- it was actually funny -- and he has the sudden wandering thought of if his soulmate can hear him.

A few more teasers for the movie and then another joke comes, this one completely catching Chris off guard, so much so that he practically roars with laughter, and that’s when he hears it.

It’s faint, but then again all of the laughter he hears from his soulmate is this soft. Despite being so quiet, though, the little breath of a laugh still blocks out everything else, causing Chris to not hear a single word of the question he was asked.

Here comes the awkward part. “I’m so sorry man, I completely missed what you just asked me,” Chris apologizes. He doesn’t know why, but he keeps going, motioning to his ears and saying, “She was laughing again.”

Of course, this gets the crowd going. Chris almost never talks about his soulmate on camera. Part of the fact being that he hasn’t met her yet, and part of it being that he wants to keep her to himself. For as long as he can.

“No problem, no need to apologize,” the interviewer smiles. “We can run it again.” He motions to the crew to reset and while they’re doing that, he asks Chris, “Have you met her yet?”

“No, no, not yet,” Chris shakes his head, choosing his words carefully now. He can’t take away the fact that he brought her up, but he can tiptoe around it. “One day. Soon, hopefully.”

“She’s a very lucky woman,” the interviewer says, then getting the nod from the crew that they’re ready again. “Okay, so, Chris--”

And Chris almost misses the question again because all he can think is, I’m a very lucky man.

#Chris Evans #chris evans x original female character #chris evans x ofc #soulmate story #soulmates #chris evans soulmate #i don't know how else to tag this #mentions of anxiety #mentions of isolation

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alice-of-dreams · 6 years ago

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Vanguard rant because I love this dumb cardgame show too much

It's really interesting how the Legion Mate arc parallels not only the Link Joker arc but also the Psyqualia arc.

HECK All the major arcs draw really interesting parallels to each other.

Like one of the central themes of Vanguard is about Kai and Aichi's encounter and friendship and how it changes both them and the people around them. That's literally what the show is about plus dramatic card games.

The most obvious parallels are between the Psyqualia arc versus the Link Joker arc.

Psyqualia arc:

- Aichi loses himself to power offered by external force because he feels inadequate and incapable of keeping up with Kai and Ren in Vanguard. Also external force actively manipulates his insecurities to push him to that point.

- Ren being pretty much gone in Psyqualia drunk madness because the only thing he cared about was winning. He determined people's worth by whether they win or lost.

- team Q4 being a hot mess of a team. Like i love them but god lord they were a terrible match back then.

- Kai being the cause of Aichi sinking into Psyqualia madness and also the one who saves him from it. The arc acknowledging that it's also Aichi's own greed to win that's responsible and Kai saving Aichi from himself.

- Kourin who's supposed to be a neutral entity actively helping these kids save Aichi because she's too kind and is the kind of person who wants to protect what's the right thing.

- epic Kai vs Ren match

Link Joker:

Just reverse everything in the above points and you have Link Joker. Seriously.

- - Kai loses himself to power offered by external force because he feels inadequate and incapable of keeping up with Aichi and Ren in Vanguard. Also external force actively manipulates his insecurities to push him to that point.

- Ren actively having his own arc and rejecting both external power and Psyqualia because in this arc, he's not fighting to win, he's fighting to save the people important to him. And that right there is the biggest example of how much he's changed from season 1. The parallel of the conversation between him and Suiko especially with the reveal that she was the one who introduced Psyqualia to him (in the reboot but there's hints that's what happened in the original too).

- Aichi's club actively working together to save people/protect each other. Just the huge emphasis on being there for each other and proper communication in this arc OOF

- Aichi being the motivation of Kai accepting the Link Joker and also the one who saves him from it. The arc very explicitly stating that it's Kai's own greed consuming him and his self destructive tendencies. Aichi saving Kai from himself.

- Kourin actively siding with the antagonist and doing what she knows is wrong and it almost tearing her apart because she doesn't want to lose the people important to her.

- epic Kai vs Ren match pt 2: bonus the match also parallels their match from season one.

There's like a few other parallels but these are just the ones off the top of my head.

Now Link Joker vs Legion Mate:

Where do I even begin omg. THERE'S so many not to mention Legion Mate itself is a big parallel to the rest of the series.

- first, switching the protag from Aichi to Kai.

- SWITCHING THE ANTAGONIST BETWEEN THE TWO

- Link Joker being the cause in both cases, but one voluntarily, the other involuntarily. One out of selfishness, one out of selflessness.

- SKSKS i could probably write a whole essay on the symbolic parallels of their relationship in link Joker vs Legion Mate

- the reverse zombies vs the Quatre Knights parallels

- the fucking parallels of Gaillard vs Kai vs Naoki omg.

- especially Kai vs Gaillard because this needs to be reiterated. Kai, takes up Aichi's royal paladins vs Gaillard using Aichi's gold paladins. Then later fighting with Kai's Kagero vs Gaillard's own deck. The way they both think of Aichi.

- funnily enough, Serra's parallel to Kourin in Link joker.

- Kourin's parallel to herself in Link Joker. ;; Poor girl really doesn't get a break. Another parallel of selfishness versus selflessness. But honestly it's so heartbreaking when you think of Kourin having to watch Aichi be slowly consumed by Link Joker and know she indirectly had a hand in it and just hhhhh im gonna cry

- MISAKI AND KOURIN'S RELATIONSHIP PARALLELS

- Aichi and Kourin's relationship parallels. In Link Joker, he's the one trying to save her. In Legion Mate, she can't save him no matter how much she wants to and instead does her damn best to support him.

- the parallel of having an alien entity as the antagonist that uses human insecurities to take over versus Serra who used their faith against them.

- that fucking end Kai vs Aichi fight in both seasons. One is about teaching Kai to depend on others who are there for him and the other is to teach the same.

There's a bunch more but you get the gist.

Psyqualia arc vs Legion Mate arc:

this one is super self explanatory tbh.

-Aichi at the start vs Aichi at the end.

- Kai at the start vs Kai at the end

- team Q4 at the start vs team Q4 at the end

- Kourin being a helpful outsider to being one of their important friends to save.

- misaki who wanted nothing to do with them and vanguard, teaching the importance of friends to someone else.

- the running theme of selfishness versus selflessness and how it's not a matter of which is the right answer but a balance of both.

- kai and Kamui's argument from their time as Q4 came back to bite Kai in the ass hard lol

- REN BEING SAVED BY AICHI AND REN REFUSING TO HELP AICHI BECAUSE HE DOESN'T WANT TO LIVE IN A WORLD WITHOUT AICHI

- Kai and Aichi's relationship obviously.

- Miwa and Kai's relationship for that matter.

You get the general gist.

Now we come to Asia Circuit vs Legion Mate:

- LEON LEON LEON LEON LEON LEON

- Aichi's ability to touch lives and people and change them.

- Aichi having to fight void possessed Leon vs Aichi becoming slowly possessed by the link seed.

- "next time, can you show me the way?" Screech why are they always in a constant ping pong of saving each other from each other's darkness these dumb card game nerds.

- how absent kai is this season vs the explicit absence of Aichi in Legion Mate

- kai and ren's relationship lol

- i feel like the biggest parallel was definitely Kai though. Just the difference in how he handled things in Legion Mate compared to how he behaved in Asia Circuit says so much about his growth. But also about the growth of his friends who don't take his lone wolf bs anymore haha

- the massive Beatdowns handed down to the squad in both arcs in cardfights. Also the increased seriousness in Legion Mate with greater stakes.

- wow can you believe the same Kai who more or less told Aichi to figure it out on his own why both their clans got erased, ran around in Legion Mate willing to get burned as many times as it took to get him back.

- AICHI'S SELF CONFIDENCE GROWING LEAPS AND BOUNDS

- Aichi growing into himself

- Aichi being pulled around by Takuto's strings vs Aichi actively manipulating the whole magical moon sanctuary coma plan

- Aichi saving people versus the people he saved coming to save him

- "how about i beat you, take the seed and you become my Quatre Knight?" SkSKSKS this is so far from the Kai in Asia Circuit who just threw vague advice and encouragement at Aichi im crying guys their relationship is so beautiful.

- throwback to starry night date on the cliff because thanks Bushiroad that's what my heart needed.

- Kai's improved communication skills lol

Seriously i know i joke about the ridiculousness of the background setup of Legion Mate a lot and how nonsensical it is, but storytelling wise it's definitely my favourite next to the Psyqualia. Because everything came around in a full circle in the most beautiful way and that's so satisfying tbh.

Like it pulls together the overall plot in a really nice way, character development wise.

Honestly I dunno what I'm trying to say. All the arcs parallel each other in really interesting ways and allude to each other and hence the character development is one of my favourite things in Vanguard because its progression is understandable but not overly simplified.

#cardfight!! vanguard #sendou aichi #kai toshiki #this is basically just me having too many feels about vanguard again #character development is definitely one of the strongest points of this series #no character stays stagnant and i love that

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ramblings-from-elsinore · 6 years ago

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hi, do you have a specific outlining method for your stories? i always feel overwhelmed whenever i have to decide which scenes i want to keep or take out of the rough draft. there are just so many possibilities that i get lost in my own head and never get any writing done. thank you

Hello anon! Well, I’m not sure if I’m the best person for writing advice, but I’m flattered you asked me! Not sure if I can be of much help, honestly. I really don’t have an organized method at all. I am a person who tends to plot things out well ahead of time and in great detail, but the plans I make are always subject to change. I often find that as I’m writing, if I let things flow naturally, the sparks of inspiration I get in the moment are some of my best creative impulses and they are what keep my writing fresh and honest. Sometimes they open up entirely new pathways for the story I hadn’t planned for.

All that said, I do find outlines immensely helpful; without them I’d be way too intimidated by the blank page to ever get anything done. I tend to daydream about my stories and play out specific scenes in my head, whether they’re going to be in the next chapter, the climax, the very end, or anywhere in between. In my head, the scenes flow naturally and make emotional sense to me, so I usually try to write down the beats of the scene before I forget how one thing led to the next. This leads to an extensive notes document full of shorthand that gives the gist of dialogue and action; sometimes it’s only a single line and sometimes it’s whole conversations and scenarios.

Over time, as I imagine more and more scenes this way, I add to the document, cobbling together different paragraphs and often rearranging things in whatever order makes most sense to me on that day. Eventually I’ll have a very rough outline of most of the major things that will happen, all the way to the end of the story. If there’s a gap for a section I haven’t thought about much, that will also be apparent from scanning over the outline. I don’t try to force myself to come up with anything, though, unless I need it for the chapter I’m working on right then. Otherwise, I wait for inspiration to strike, and then write it down so that I’ll have a roadmap to follow once I get to that part of the story.

None of this looks pretty or clean at all, though. I don’t map out my narratives in act structure or in terms of character arcs or anything like that, which I know some writers do. My “outlines” are just like word vomit that probably only I can decipher--and sometimes even I have trouble understanding what I wrote down in a big hurry! I just keep adding to it piecemeal any time something new occurs to me. I hope that makes sense, anon!

One quick word on your difficulty with knowing whether to cut scenes; my recommendation is to ask yourself what changes from the beginning to the end of the scene. This should let you know whether or not the scene is moving the plot forward or deepening our understanding of a character (i.e., something should always change in every scene, even if it’s as simple as a character realizing something they didn’t see before). If it’s not doing either of those things, it probably doesn’t belong.

If you have any more questions about my process, please feel free to ask! And good luck with your writing. It can be very overwhelming; every writer feels that sometimes. Just keep at it.

#anon #writing stuff #ask

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fortunatelylori · 7 years ago

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Rage-kitten Jon time

*this meta includes graphic depictions of violence. Redear discretion is advised

A while back, during a conversation with @kitten1618x, she asked me to talk about the rage-kitten Jon scenes. I’ve been pretty busy the past few weeks so I didn’t manage to get to it earlier but … a tumblr always pays her debts.

Here is the original message:

I would love to hear your take on the rage-kitten jon scenes: especially the one in the crypts, as it really did nothing to further the narrative if Jon is just a “protective big bro” (the audience already knows this) and the beach scene with Theon.

I’ve already discussed the Theon scene in my “Why the romance between Jon/D*ny doesn’t work” series so this time around we will be talking about the crypt scene between Jon and Littlefinger.

However, in addition to that, we will also be taking a trip down memory lane to that most satisfying and heartwarming of moments in season 6 when Jon beat the living crap out of Ramsay Beelzebub Bolton.

That is because these two scenes are inextricably linked in my mind and together set up and support the romantic undertone that permeates all of the Jon/Sansa scenes.

Bear with me … I have receipts.

After the season finale, when I re-watched both season 6 and 7, I came back to these two scenes time and time again. The way Jon walks over to Ramsay, stone faced, murderous anger bubbling beneath the surface, the way his face twitches when LF says he loves Sansa as he loved Catelyn ... I was struck every time by just how certain I was that I had seen this before somewhere and how romantic motivation popped into my head every single time I watched them.

And then, one fine day, it finally dawned on me. I HAD seen this before, hundreds of times. Twice a year, in fact, from the time I was about 12.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give to you the one … the only … possibly my favorite film of all times …

Now, if you have not seen Goodfellas, what the hell have you been doing with your life? I mean it! Got watch it right now!

For those of you who have seen it … it’s brilliant, right? Now that I’ve mentioned it, don’t you want to go back and watch it again? I know I do. I just looooove watching Joe Pesci violently murder people. What can I say? I’m a romantic, like that …

That being said, I see you all scratching your heads thinking what the hell Goodfellas has to do with rage-kitten Jon. So please indulge me in an experiment and look at the scene where Henry finds out that his girlfriend, Karen, was sexually assaulted by one of her neighbors:

youtube

I think you can see the basic gist of what I am talking about but let’s analyze the similarities more in detail. I’ll probably only ever going to get one chance to talk about Goodfellas and Game of thrones in the same meta. You can bet your last dollar I’m going to milk it for what it’s worth!

The “Jon makes all of our dreams come true” scene:

youtube

The first beat that is eerily similar is the slow walk both Henry and Jon do towards their opponent. Even their expression is about the same which is … they have no expression. Their entire focus is on what’s in front of them:

The stone face in cinema is always a telltale of someone going in for the kill. Both Bruce and Ramsay are goners. They just don’t know it yet.

Then there’s the actual fight … I mean, it’s not really a fight … it’s quite frankly a down and dirty whooping that both Jon and Henry dish out, complete with the both of them throwing their opponent to the ground:

This has nothing to do with the meta, but every time I watch this beat I laugh thinking of people saying how shockingly revolutionary violence in GOT is. Scorsese was doing long before them and, quite frankly, doing it better. There’s not one cut in that whole beat. You’re essentially a prisoner of the camera.

The other thing these two scenes have in common is a bit more subtle and requires a larger view of both these characters. Because leaving aside the different time periods, dragons and wardrobes, what both these scenes show us is the violence that these men are capable of.

In Goodfellas, up until this point, the audience has seen Henry as the hero, the good guy. We’ve been lulled into liking him because of his charm, good looks and intelligence and also because he’s always surrounded by psychopaths that kill and hurt people on a whim while he’s stuck being the voice of reason.

So just when we’ve become comfortable with this interpretation of the character, Scorsese gives us 10 veeery loooong and veeery painful seconds of Henry’s unhinged brutality. We can’t hide away from the truth anymore: he’s a thug just like the rest of his “associates”.

The GOT scene is less elegant in its message and perhaps a bit less effective but it essentially tells us the same thing. Jon has been dabbling with violence ever since he left home but we have never seen him be so brutal or so out of control with anyone. Now we know that if you push him hard enough, you’ll find the monster hidden beneath. The fact that it’s Sansa that sparks this revelation, just as Karen does for Henry, is just icing on the cake, really.

The other intriguing thing is that both these scenes end with a relationship set-up between Henry and Karen, as well as Jon and Sansa.

In Goodfellas, this is a patently negative and foreboding event. Henry and Karen have been established as the young, attractive and in love couple, strolling around town and going to the Copacabana for drinks, wearing the latest fashions. But in this scene Henry hands her the gun he’s just used to bash a man’s face in and asks her to hide it. When she accepts, she becomes his accomplice. And that dynamic pays off throughout the rest of the film, as we see Karen smuggle illegal drugs for Henry in prison, accompany him to meet Colombian cartels and flush drugs down toilets as the police descends on their house.

In GOT, the implications of this scene are far more positive. Because Jon does the exact opposite to what Henry does. Far from making Sansa an accomplice to his violent tendencies, he stops himself when she shows up because he doesn’t want her to see him as a monster.

As other Jonsa fans have already mentioned, the creators here employ the “calm to his storm” trope and that’s a very potent storytelling device. Because love is a powerful emotion that can make us behave in extreme ways, both good and bad. But at its best, love compels us to be better, not worse. And that’s what Sansa does for Jon in this scene. She reminds him of his inherent humanity. And that’s pretty damn beautiful.

However, I don’t think we’ve really gotten a proper pay off of this trope and the dynamic that it establishes between these two characters. I suppose you could argue that the battlement scene does that by having Sansa apologize for keeping Jon in the dark about the Knights of the Vale and they end up resolving their trust issues.

Except that season 7 shows us a Jon and Sansa that are still struggling with their relationship, the two of them still sending each other mixed signals and we never get a proper explanation as to what makes them clash as they do.

Add to that the Theon scene where once again the “calm to his storm” trope is brought to the fore and this whole confusing dynamic between them feels like a dangling plot thread that needs to be addressed in season 8.

The “Non-platonic thoughts about Sansa are not allowed in Jon’s presence” scene:

youtube

The obvious thing that this scene and the Goodfellas scene have in common is the dialogue. So let’s talk about that. You all know how attached I am to my dialogue:

Henry: I swear on my fucking mother, if you touch her again, you’re dead!

Jon: Touch my sister and I’ll kill you myself.

Now, Henry is a little more verbose and he does take his own mother’s name in vain but you know … he’s half Irish and half Italian. It sort of comes with the territory. But the message is clear: Touch Karen/Sansa and Henry/Jon will kill you.

This phrase of: touch … and I’ll kill you is used a great deal in dialogue for both visual and written storytelling but the important common thread here is the sexual context in which they are both used.

Bruce, Karen’s neighbor, is beaten up by Henry because he tried to rape Karen. So “touch” in that context is unquestioningly sexual in nature.

The Jon/LF is even more loaded because Littlefinger hasn’t actually done anything as terrible to Sansa. Sure, his longing stares, double-entendres and creepy kisses are more than a little problematic, but they’re not in the same league as what Bruce did to Karen. And yet, just the thought that Littlefinger might approach Sansa in that way and that he might touch her in a sexual manner, drives Jon mad.

Also, as others have mentioned, Littlefinger prods and twists Jon for quite some time until he snaps. He talks about his father’s bones, his love for his father’s wife and even brings up Catelyn’s dislike for him, something that probably bothers Jon even more than being called a bastard. And yet, even though it’s clear that Jon doesn’t like LF, he still manages to keep his emotions in check.

The moment he starts losing it this:

Littlefinger: If it weren’t for me, you would have been slaughtered on that battlefield.

Now, people simply take it for granted that Jon dislikes Littlefinger because of what LF has done to his family. But Jon doesn’t know most of what LF has done. He actually doesn’t know much of anything about him. Except this:

Jon: You told me he sold you to the Boltons.

Sansa: He did.

Jon: Do you trust him?

Sansa: Only a fool would trust Littlefinger.

So his sole reason for disliking this man is because of what he did to Sansa. I would suggest that LF bringing up the Battle of the Bastards is yet another reminder for Jon that she had to bring this man there in order to save him.

But then LF, in his desire to find what moves his enemy, ups the ante and boy, does he find out what moves Jon Snow:

And this where that feeling of familiarity strikes me again. I don’t know if Kit Harrington went to the Liotta school of seething rage, but these two facial expressions look very similar to me:

Kit should totally take, at least, the expression class at the Liotta school by the way. No one does crazy, out of my mind psychopathy quite like good ol’ Ray.

The last thing we need to address is the reason why this scene is even included. Unlike the mirror scene in season 1 where Ned chocked LF, where the resolution was LF’s betrayal, there is no direct pay-off to this scene and there never will be. LF is dead and his downfall has nothing to do with Jon.

As @kitten1618x pointed out in her message, it can’t be to show us that Jon is protective of Sansa. That was already established in season 6. We’ve seen him beat Ramsay to a pulp and we’ve also been given this gem:

Jon: I will never let him touch you again. I’ll protect you. I promise!

We’re also going to be given a fresh dose of that in his scene with Tyrion.

There’s just so much of the “Jon is an overprotective older brother who protects his totally platonic but in need of protection sister” shtick we can watch before we start questioning exactly why Jon is so invested in who “touches” Sansa.

I would argue that, considering basic scriptwriting structure as well as the pattern that is established between Jon and the men in Sansa’s life, the pay-off to the Jon/LF scene will come in season 8 and it will have nothing to do with LF and everything to do with the Jon/Sansa dynamic.

PS: I call dibs on red for the wedding. It’s my favorite color, you guys! You have to give me that!

* none of the GOT gifs belong to me.

#my got meta #jonsa #jon x sansa meta #jon snow #sansa stark #goodfellas #littlefinger #jonsa meta

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highlevelencounters-blog · 7 years ago

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Call of Cthulhu: an over long analysis

In trying to give any video game a fair review, one faces difficulties, because games try to be and to do such a varying range of things. I think this is especially true of Cyanide’s Call of Cthulhu. There are so many metrics by which one could measure the game. Is it engaging? Is it scary? Does it do what it does well;? Is it well made? Is it true to its Lovecraft source material? Is it true to its roleplaying game source material? Is it worth the price? If you are short of time, and I would not blame you if you were, then very quickly: yes; no; yes; depends what you mean but no; sort of; yeah and that depends but probably not. If you are not short on time, then let me explain myself (in very great detail) by taking these points in turn. It is difficult to appraise the game without spoilers, but I will warn you when they are coming. If you do not want them, skip to the next heading.

Is Call of Cthulhu engaging?

Yes. Not the most engaging game, mind, but its story, characters and general sense of intrigue carry the game. There are technical problems with the writing that I will deal with below, but those are the video game equivalents of bad grammar and spelling errors (of which, while we are on the subject, I noticed a bit in the subtitles and item descriptions). Despite the animation problems, also mentioned below, the characters are well fleshed out both through direct speech and context. The graphics are nothing sensational, but are definitely good enough to create a world you want to explore. One of my favourite things, though, is that the game does not treat you like an idiot, nor does it leave you behind. My problem with the few investigation-based games I have played before is that they are determined to leave no man behind, so they bash you around the head with everything that they have lying around. Call of Cthulhu does not do this. Cut-scenes and mandatory conversations make sure you know what is going on even if you are not paying attention to anything else that is around you, but if you are looking at the details in the world, even the ones that are not in any way highlighted by the big buttons that appear over everything that you can interact with, then you can start to piece together why things are happening, as opposed to just finding out that they are happening. Intelligence, time and exploration are rewarded with details, but none are essential for understanding the gist of the story. It is difficult to say much more without spoilers, so here are some SPOILERS:

While Officer Bradley was clearly the best character, standing out from most modern video game characters you see today by being wonderfully human, but not in a broken, flawed way, I want to prove my point about good characters by pointing to Charles Hawkins. While this character is never explicitly explained, we know he has been in on everything since the beginning. He is literally a wife-beating monster and definitely a villain of the piece. But he is also conflicted and caring. He genuinely wants what is best for Sarah, even if that means abusing her. He is a bad, angry man, but he is trying to do right. And the beauty is that the game never actually tells you this. It shows you. No one really ever says anything about Charles’s character, but reading into what he says and watching what he does really gives you a feel for his character. Which is impressive for a character with such little screen time.

Is Call of Cthulhu scary?

No. I do not play horror games so I am not the person to ask really. Or maybe I am the perfect person to ask. Either way, for what it is worth, I was not scared by this game. I hate being chased and a couple of sequences made me tense up in my chair, but I would not take that as a massive indication of anything. The same fear of being chased is what made me stop playing Mirror’s Edge and that game is very far from scary. In the game’s defense, however, jump scares are cheap and I hate them and this game seems to aswell. I counted exactly two and one of them was mostly just a creepy musical trill and the other one was so obviously coming it did not even startle me. So Kudos there.

Does Call of Cthulhu do what it does well?

Yes. What I mean by this is, if you boil the game down to what it actually is, it does that well. What that means, is that it is a very good walking simulator. If that is not what you want, do not play this game. This is a walking sim with some very light RPG elements and a few sections where, undoubtedly, someone higher up the chain came in and said “we need a stealth section!” or “we need a combat section!” or “we need a horror section!” or “we need an action section!” and the developers obliged, put in one instance of each and moved on. These sections, except maybe the fun but very basic stealth section, are by far the weakest parts of the game (oh my, that combat section!). The exceptions are the many puzzles, which, like the plot in general, do not treat you like an idiot. Except for one part of one, which honestly feels like the developers made a mistake (what is supposed to be the clue for where to look for the answer instead just straight up gives you the answer, despite the fact that all the stuff for actually reasoning out the answer is right there in the game!).

I only have one problem with the walking simulator nature of the game. There are a few sections which are clearly only there to pad out time. Most of the game is a pretty tight linear tour through the story, but occasionally you are given an adventure game style ‘puzzle’ that just boils down to, “walk around this area you have already walked around for ages until you find the thing that you have to poke to make the story progress”. Anyone who has played the game will know what I mean by ‘the bust bit’. And there is another section which might work as a horror piece, maybe, but just seemed to me to be “run around this same small area 5 or 6 times till we arbitrarily let you out”. ‘Lamps’ is the clue word for that one, if you’re curious as to what I mean. But these are nit-picks. Generally the game is an excellent walking simulator.

Is Call of Cthulhu well made?

That depends on what you mean. Games are hugely multifaceted, but what often differentiates a good game from a poor one is the ability of its developers to work to its strengths. It would be an unfair criticism of Indie darling Limbo to say that it had bad facial animations. It definitely did, but this is not a problem because the characters effectively have no faces. This seems like a facile point, but I think it is important to remember that Cyanide, the developers of Call of Cthulhu, have previously been known for the Styx games, a few Games Workshop titles, a buttload of cycling games and little else. Call of Cthulhu is not triple-A, but it’s not Indie either. The game, at least visually and narratively though, tries to do everything a triple-A title would attempt to do, as opposed to the usual Indie approach of making at least one aspect in some way minimalist. This is not an excuse, merely something to keep in mind as I say that the animation is some of the worst I have seen in games for a very long time. It’s not quite as funny as Mass Effect Andromeda’s, there is not quite enough going on for it to be quite as bizarrely broken. Dialogue lines would come out of characters whose mouths were shut, arms would constantly drift around like they had slightly confused minds of their own and I hope the ‘facial expressions’ were enjoying their trip to the uncanny valley.

The writing was a bit all over the place as well. Writing, mind, not story or character construction. There is a reasonable amount of choice in the game, but an annoyingly large number of the lines of dialogue do not seem to match up with the choices you make. In the first main scene, you can go straight into a conversation with someone and mention in one conversation branch that you know that a character is a big deal on Darkwater island, and then immediately choose another conversation option where you reveal you have never even heard of Darkwater island before. In a subsequent scene, a man told me he would meet me somewhere later, but then, when I got there, my character had several lines questioning why the man was there. There are numerous moments like this and it really takes you out of the experience every time it happens. A similar issue is present whenever you enter an enclosed space and your vision starts distorting. I only knew that this was a representation of the main character’s claustrophobia because the developers mentioned it in press releases. I did not notice any mention of it in the actual game.

A bit more nit-picky, but there are a few times when the game simply does not tell you something that would be useful to know. The most egregious of these is when they give you something which has limited uses but do not tell you either that it has limited uses or how many uses are left until you have used them all up. It is never a particularly large problem, but it would have been nice to know.

Still, looking at the game as a technical work, I must say that the graphics are nice. The art style has a Dishonored feel to it, which I personally have lots of time for. It is not quite as stylised, but the game is generally very pretty, which is a good thing too since you will spend a lot of time shoving your camera into every corner of it.

Is Call of Cthulhu true to its Lovecraftian source material?

Ah, the fun question. The answer really depends on how much of a deep dive you want to do. But before I jump in, it is important to note that the developers explicitly said their game was based on the table-top RPG, rather than Lovecraft’s stories. What follows, then, is a piece of literary critique (read: w**k) and not necessarily a criticism of the game. It will also be absolutely riddled with SPOILERS:

Call of Cthulhu gets a lot right about the common conception of the Lovecraftian aesthetic: the green tinge that permeates everything gives it a distinctly Cthulhu-y vibe, the rural town is a common motif of Lovecraft’s (the game is very Shadow Over Insmouth here) and Cthulhu as an entity is almost used well. As I said at the top, SPOILERS! Cthulhu actually shows up, for about one second, in one of the game’s four endings and is presented as an unstoppable, maddening, world-ending force. This is doing Cthulhu right. There is no fighting Cthulhu: once he has been awoken from his fhtagn, the world will crumble around him. The only hope one has is to prevent that from happening, so it is appropriate that, if it is allowed to happen, the game gives you no chance to resist. The game also takes a good approach to sanity and curiosity. Fuller is the character who most explores the concept of curiosity and it is shown to warp and twist him as it opens his mind to new possibilities. This fear of curiosity is at the heart of Lovecraft’s writings. The game also plays with sanity, another of Lovecraft’s main themes, although most of the mechanical implications of that are better discussed in relation to the Call of Cthulhu table-top RPG.

However, there is one thing that the game gets seriously wrong about Lovecraft. In those moments when the game is scary, the story itself is not one of cosmic horror. Much horror is about holding a mirror up to humanity. It is about showing and exploring our darker sides. Werewolves explore our animal nature, vampires (at least traditionally) were an exploration of sexuality, serial killers explore human psychopathy, zombies represent rampant consumerism. The monster, at the end of the day, is us. This is not the goal of cosmic horror. Lovecraft is not writing stories about people. His horror is metaphysical. “The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all of its contents” is how he begins his story The Call of Cthulhu and this one sentence, I think, underpins all of his work. His protagonists go mad not because they saw something scary, they go mad because they saw something they cannot explain. Their very understanding of reality is thrown out of whack and they are shown that the safe, pedestrian, societal lives they thought they were living were facades: the ignorance that our subconscious chooses for us to protect us from realisations about the universe and our tiny, utterly insignificant part in it. His entities are often not even evil, they are simply so alien and disinterested that we matter as much to them as ants matter to us. This is why Lovecraft was so revolutionary, he moved away from the traditionally biblical kind of horror where the monsters are manifestations of our own sins and turned instead to the secular world of science for his horrors. “The sciences, each straining in its own direction, have hitherto harmed us little”, he continues in Call of Cthulhu, “but someday the piecing together of previously disassociated knowledge will open up such terrifying vistas of reality, and our frightful position therein, that we shall either go mad from the revelation or flee from the light into the peace and safety of a new dark age”. I say again, Lovecraft is not telling stories about people. He is telling stories about the universe and our inability to understand or cope with it. The truth that science will one day unlock, Lovecraft seems to be suggesting, is that we do not matter at all. This is cosmic horror. But Call of Cthulhu (the video game, that is) seems to miss this. Pierce’s sanity (or insanity) progression comes the closest. I say more on this mechanic below, but the final choice that Pierce must make is the most Lovecraftian moment of the game.

There are four endings to the game, one default and three others unlocked through story actions, which is a system I like. On a very quick side note, I also really like how there is a save point just before the end, allowing you to go back instantly and replay the endings you did not choose, but only if you unlocked them (I unlocked three of the four endings on my first play-through). Suicide and accepting the ritual both present “go mad from the revelation” endings, each with a different but totally appropriate flavour of madness, while the ‘it’s over’ ending represents a flight back into a dark age, Pierce sticking fingers in his ears and yelling “la la la it’s all a dream!” I also like here that you have to unlock all but the ritual ending. I was annoyed with this ending until I found this out. The game does not really give you any reason to complete the ritual. The Leviathan and the cult have all clearly been bad the whole way through the game, there is not ever any good reason for Pierce to surrender at the last moment and perform the ritual. Having it as the default, though, makes this lack of motivation slightly more excusable, as it represents Pierce simply surrendering to what he has been told is his destiny, as opposed to having worked for the will to fight back in some way. The fourth ending, the counter ritual, is by far the poorest, which is a shame because it could so easily have been fixed. You know that Drake is planning something, but Pierce, or at least my Pierce, was never told exactly what that was. My Pierce would not logically even have known that there was a counter ritual, never mind how to do it and certainly never mind what it actually does (a point that I am still completely in the dark about). This is something, as far as I can tell, that the game never explains, even if you do choose this option. Just a little bit of exposition, probably delivered by Drake, would have cleared this all up.

But I digress. Call of Cthulhu is essentially a game about people. It is about a group of people who are more or less tricked by some powerful alien being into doing its bidding. And as I said above, it does this well. But in being about people and their struggles, it fails to focus on what Lovecraft himself actually focuses on. Now, a quick disclaimer: I do not know for a fact that Lovecraft was a racist and viewed minorities as ‘less human’ than white people (although there is evidence for this in his work), but I am going to assume this is the case, at least in some way, for what I am going to say. I think it is telling that most of the cultists in Lovecraft’s work are minorities, because this distances even his human villains from the (I think) exclusively white protagonists of his stories. This separation between the human and the alien is completely ignored in the sequences in which Pierce is visited by the Leviathan in prison. The fact that the Leviathan would take humanoid form and use human manipulation tactics to get Pierce to do what it wants is totally non-Lovecraftian. Where is the horror at our utter inconsequentiality here? Cthulhu is scary because it does not care about us, we matter so little there would be zero point in it or any of its ... associates (for want of a better word) attempting to use tactics to manipulate human kind. In The Call of Cthullhu (the story now, not the game), Cthullhu pretty much tells people to come and they just do. No need to take human form, no need to use psychological methods. Lovecraftian horrors use us like the dumb insects that, compared to them, we are.

Further the visions that haunt Pierce are visions of people, mostly, and the awful things that they do to each other. He questions his senses, but he never really questions his position in the universe or what it would actually mean if all the things that he is seeing were true. Lovecraft’s protagonists usually do believe what they see and this is what drives them mad, while Pierce is driven mad by questions about whether or not to believe what he sees. The biggest crime though, the moment that really made me feel that the developers had missed the point, is in the after-credits half of the ritual ending. Here we see the cultists all engaged in a murderous brawl, screaming with delirious madness as they punch and kick and bite each other while, presumably, Cthulhu gets on with the important job of destroying the world just off camera. But this is the wrong kind of madness. Sure, everyone would go mad as their understanding of reality snapped at the vastness and alien-ness (alienitude? alienosity?) of Cthulhu, but for all of them to just go kill-crazy? It doesn’t make sense. That does not seem to be the madness that comes of having your entire knowledge of reality shattered. It feels more like a madness that makes a flashy ending to a video game.

Is Call of Cthulhu true to its roleplaying game source material?

Yes, broadly. Firstly, I am not a CoC (which is what I’ll call the rolepaying Call of Cthulhu, because this is getting stupidly confusing) expert. I have played and run a few games, but it is not my main game. That being said, I think I know enough to say that Call of Cthulhu does a good job of translating CoC into a video game. Its plot is a little more big-leagues (bigly) and showy than your average CoC game, but that is fine. It’s the same thing that happens when a film is made from a TV series. And in this regard, Call of Cthulhu is hardly a huge offender. This might just be me, but I really like stories that know how to reign in their scale and Call of Cthulhu does a pretty good job of this. With the exception of one particular sub-plot (which is by no means overblown just a little elbowed in (the whole painting sub arc, btw)), everything is pretty well contained and not much is thrown in to escalate things to stupid levels as the game progresses.

Call of Cthulhu continues the well-practiced trend of CoC games of being incredibly linear, but while this is an actual problem for roleplaying games, where the only limitation is imagination, in a video game, which is fenced in by budget and deadline constraints, this linearity is not so much of a problem.

An area where Call of Cthulhu differs from CoC is in its use of skills. The skill list for 6th edition CoC (which is the edition I know, so don’t pester me about 7th ed) is over 50 skills long. Call of Cthulhu, on the other hand, has 7 skills. This means you never have those horrible moments where you absolutely NEED a successful library-use roll or else-you-will-all die-in-the-next-encounter-because-you-did-not-know-the-monster-is-weak-to-salt-but-you-put-all-your-points-into-Fast-Talk-so-I-guess-you-are-all-just-going-to-die-and-no-I-am-not-still-bitter. This, I feel, is an improvement. It could be argued that it reduces the scope for roleplaying, but with the limited conversation options and the actually quite well written and characterised Pierce, you are never going to be totally in control anyway. Call of Cthulhu is also paced very much like a CoC game as well, with slow, social information gathering at the beginning, ramping up to more action/horror moments later. This does make some of the skills more useless later on in the game, but this is not a major problem and a difficult one to avoid (and certainly one that CoC games usually fail to avoid). Also like CoC, there is, I think, a clearly right thing to do at character creation, but while in CoC it is because some skills (I’m looking at you, operate heavy machinery) are simply pointless, in Call of Cthulhu character gen is the only time you can use experience points to level up Occultism and Medicine, something you are definitely going to want to do and something the game does not do a good job of telling you.

CoC’s main selling point, as a system, is its sanity mechanic, something that Cyanide obviously spent a great deal of time looking at when making Call of Cthulhu. I have heard that some people did not think it was used well, but I have to disagree. Sadly though, to explain why I have to make liberal use of SPOILERS!

In CoC, sanity is effectively your character’s long-term health bar. Your sanity level sticks around from adventure to adventure with very little you can do to raise it if it falls. It is, in many ways, your character’s expiration date. It goes down whenever you see something Cthulhoid, but there is a random element to it. Clearly, this would not work for Call of Cthulhu, not in the same way anyway. If Call of Cthulhu were a CoC game, it would take at most three or four sessions, and that is not really fast enough for a character to melt completely into a gibbering puddle of insanity. So Call of Cthulhu does something very different and I think it does it very well.

At the beginning of the game, you have some control over your sanity being reduced. The most clear example of this is when you have the option of whether or not to read the Malleus Monstorum. But as the game continues, you have less and less choice over whether you get to see sanity-breaking stuff or not. It basically just happens to you. This means that really, your loss of sanity is almost 100% controlled by the game’s story. Therefore the moment that you break mechanically is also the moment that weird stuff starts happening, by necessity, in the story. Pierce starts to have visions, some of them obviously fake, some of them much more plausibly real, and because his sanity has broken we know that we are in a situation where we should be questioning everything, as opposed to earlier in the game when the lines were much more clear cut. This is a co-opting of mechanics by story, which I have not really seen before in a game. The game gives you something that appears to be in your control but then slowly and subtly takes it back. You could see this as a reduction in player autonomy, because it really is, but I think this fits very well with the themes of destiny and inevitability in the story. It also produces an organic way to show the deteriorating mental state of Pierce without it being exposition-y. If we had felt, right from the beginning, that the sanity bar had nothing to do with our own choices, the moment when Pierce breaks would have felt contrived. But by giving us that illusion of choice we are engaged with the progression of that sanity bar in a way that we would not be otherwise and when it finally shifts from stable to psychotic, we do not see this as a simple narrative move, we see this as an organic part of the story and the choices we made in it, even if really it is not. I also love how the sanity manifests itself. It is subtly done and I think interesting debates could be had about what is real and what is not (I have strong feelings about when the last time we really see Colden is, for example). A brilliant example of this is how we shoot Fuller in what is obviously a dream-scape and then come back to what we think is reality and find we have shot him there too. But this, itself, is also shown to be an illusion when, in one of the ending sequences, we hear him talking to a nurse. It is all very Inception-y and I really like it. It was a nice subversion of expectations, as I was expecting the sanity meter, as a player influenced mechanic, to be able to affect only aesthetic things and maybe minor story elements. I noticed this exactly once (a painting had blood spatters on it which disappeared when I approached), but the way the game takes control of the mechanic and allows it to have serious narrative impact, while a removal of player autonomy, was very refreshing.

Is Call of Cthulhu worth the price?

At time of writing, Call of Cthulhu is selling for £40. It is not worth that. You can go and pick up Divinity Original Sin 2, a game that is basically empirically perfect, for £10 less than that and get at the very least ten times as much play time out of it. Where the price point of Call of Cthulhu should be for you is something only you can decide. £15 seems like a more reasonable price point to me. What I look for is usually a strong enjoyment/hour ratio as opposed to a good hour/money ratio, and Call of Cthulhu has a very good enjoyment/hour ratio, but this is certainly helped by its short length. At the end of the day, I would say that whatever you would be willing to pay for two engaging, thoughtful, just below Hollywood tier films is probably the right price for Call of Cthulhu. Especially since the game has basically no replay value. In many ways it is very average, but if you have a thing for walking simulators or Lovecraftian worlds, then this game is a must buy for you. But maybe wait until the price has dropped.

#Call of Cthulhu #Cthulhu #Lovecraft #Game Review #Essay #Cosmic horror #Literary analysis #Roleplay #HashtagsHaveNoSpaces

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s2he-gamewalkthrough · 7 years ago

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Part 13a: Hourai Island

More plot, cameos, and battles ahead.

If you don’t know what this is about, please refer to this previous post.

[Any new comments by me will be designated by brackets.]

[I’m choosing to split this chapter into two parts, not necessarily because it’s particularly long, but rather because there are A LOT of images here. I don’t want to tax anyone’s internet too much.]

First order of business, paopei upgrades for Raishinshi. He's the only other character who gets free upgrades since his master, Unchuushi, automatically upgrades Rai's paopei if you visit Unchuushi with Raishinshi in your party.

I also decided to go and get the last two members of the Juunisen, so here we go! Into the Houshindai!

First off is Monju Kouhou Tenson, Kintaku’s master.

Next up is Raishinshi's brother, Hakuyuukou! (I just happened to have Rai in my party when we unlocked him.) He stays in the Houshindai, but he serves as a healing point, which is pretty helpful.

Next, FINALLY, is Tenka's master (Dotoku Shinkun).

If you go back to Mount Kongrong 2 and visit Dotoku’s room with Tenka in your party, you’re treated to a special cutscene.

You can get a special move for Tenka here, which is sweet. (Dotoku gives you two choices but nothing really changed with either choice so I guess it's just another one of those "conversation change" things.)

If you have space in your party, Dotoku is another character that you can bring along! Whoo!

And Kintaku's master that we unlocked before does... something? I don't know what it is, in all honesty.

If you’re ready to progress the plot, talk to Taiitsu on the first floor. After the convo, Tensho will have to check on Nataku in his (Nataku’s) room.

[Nataku’s all better now, although he seems confused. I guess because he’s basically unconscious while in “ball form” and a lot of PLOT happened in the meantime.]

After that, make Tensho sleep in his own room. Tenka will wake Tensho up the next day (I think).

Go talk to Taiitsu again.

He asks you if you're ready set off. (First choice is a no, second is a yes. I’m not sure if that’s exactly what the text says, but that's the basic gist of it.)

HERE is a point of no return. At least, for a little while. So gather all the supplies you need, get money from the money man, etc etc. After you're done, talk to Taiitsu and say you're ready.

Wait, ready for what, exactly? Well...

Air travel, Mount Kongrong style!

After that, you can't leave Kongrong because it's flying. BUT! Raishinshi is nice enough to drop you off at the Houshindai to do more training if you wanted to do that.

Just... waste time by talking to people. And going in and out of rooms. Keep checking in on Taiitsu to see whether the flight is over yet.

Eventually, talking to Taiitsu will get you a short convo. We've... landed?

Oh hey, that's Dakki's personal spaceship rock thing! (Hourai Island)

She's using Cho Koumei's projector paopei to project an image of herself.

After Dakki finishes talking, you can enter Hourai Island. Tenka is automatically put into your party, so you can bring one more character along. I'm choosing to bring Nataku. (He can also be upgraded once more by Taiitsu.)

Tenka and Nataku both have super attacks now!

(Costs 30 EP and 40 EP respectively.)

Tenka's super attack is a cool looking sword slash while Nataku's is just crazy--an attack that hits all enemies. He shoots laser beams, his paopei, and then flamethrowers everything. Talk about overkill.

Anyway, talk to Raishinshi and select this option:

To go to Dakki's horrifying pink heart-shaped planet of DOOM.

Wow, everything's purple.

New location, new enemies. Fortunately, if you have been training (like I have), and your level for the whole party is in the 40s, then there shouldn't be too much to worry about.

It doesn't matter which way you take (left or right) as you'll still end up here:

Hmm, what's this?

Hey, it's the Shisei! The guys who worked for Bunchu!

Or at least, two of the members.

Whooo, it's been awhile since our last boss fight, so here we go! The guy on the left is Youshin; the guy on the right is Kouyuuken.

Have everyone use multi-hit attacks.

Kouyuuken has water-based powers, while Youshin has earth-based powers.

Wow, the Shisei really don't waste any time--they straight out attacked me with their strongest attacks in their first turn. Youshin also has a one-hit KO attack so be wary of that too.

If you want to finish the battle quickly, go ahead and use team-attacks/special attacks, etc. It's still only the first floor so you can easily head back to M. Kongrong to heal up on HP/EP.

Tensho is now gifted with a special attack too! (I don't know if this is level based or plot-based, unfortunately.)

It costs 25 EP to use and does this:

It is a pretty rad attack.

After the battle, the Shisei decide to just kindly leave instead of getting re-houshined like so many other bosses in this game. It’s not necessary, but I recommend that you head back to M. Kongrong to heal because you'll be facing the rest of the Shisei soon enough.

On the second floor, head left. The right is a dead end but DOES have a treasure chest for you to collect.

I like the color purple but, ugh, this is just going overboard. Most of the enemies here are purple...

After a very roundabout route, we meet the other two members of the Shisei!

Ouma (left) and Ri Kouha (right). Unsurprisingly, we also have to fight and beat them.

Ri Kouha specializes in light-based attacks, while Ouma specializes in. Uh. Explosions.

For THIS boss battle, you actually want to focus your attacks and take one of them down first. It doesn't matter who, though I usually take out Ouma first. If you let them keep attacking together, they will deal massive damage that Tensho can't heal quickly enough. So yeah.

Other than that, they’re not too terribly difficult.

The rest of Hourai Island will be covered in the next post.

#Houshin Engi #Hoshin Engi #senkaiden 2 walkthrough

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imdifferentshadesofpurple · 8 years ago

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→ Jackson x Maria [MARSON] → Masterlist (including teasers)

→ A/N: these bonus chapters are quick looks into the Marson storyline. Because Maria helped (and continues to help) me with this fic, I wanted to give her a super extra gift lol. They’re not super crucial to the understanding of ‘the Bone Witch’ itself but it might help fill in blanks here and there throughout the plot.

It’s a Tuesday but she finds herself at Sablo, cradling a much needed drink.

She’s not one to allow herself alcohol on a weekday, save an occasional beer when she’s with Y/N back at home, but today was rough and she’d let herself break her rule just this once.

Ordering another, she lets her eyes shut as the cool but burning liquid slides down her throat. Grimacing, she twists the glass in her hand and lets the last remaining drops skate to the surface of the bar.

“That’s African Blackwood you know. It’s $10,000 for just a kilogram of that stuff.”

She scoffs, “This place is covered with it. Must have cost a fortune.”

A breathy laugh before, “An absolute fortune. Good thing I was good for the money. The bar wouldn’t be the same if I had to use dalbergia instead, the horror.”

The voice is in front of her now, so close that she looks up and comes face to face with someone entirely too handsome to be real. His hair, falling over his eyes, is dark like the wood beneath her fingertips. His eyes match, staring straight at her like he wanted to unearth all her secrets. A grin was plastered on his face, hands braced on either side as he leaned towards her. The breath catches in her throat as they continue their staring contest, heart rapidly beating in her chest cavity as if the stranger in front of her wasn’t...a stranger.

“I’m Jackson, the owner.”

Smiling sightly she replies, “Maria. A frequent patron.”

Another one of those chuckles escapes his lips, head shaking in amusement, “I know. I’ve seen you around. Glad to finally put a name to the pretty face.”

She laughs, “How smooth of you. Does that work on the other ladies around here?”

He shrugs, eyes grazing over the people in the bar, “I wouldn’t know. I don’t compliment people when I don’t mean it.”

Her cheeks heat up a bit, her damned heart still racing, but she chalks it up to the rum in the drinks she had consumed.Running a hand through her hair, she makes a move to get up, an apology on her lips, when he suddenly looks startled.

“Wait. Maria, don’t leave just yet.”

Her forehead crinkles in a frown and she’s instantly on high alert, instincts in overdrive. Sliding out of her seat, she subtly reaches for her gun sitting against her hip. He sees her movements and in a blink of an eye, he’s in front of her, on the other side of the bar. Jackson grabs her arm, the grip tight against the warmth of her skin.

“Stay. I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.”

Her eyes widen, darting back and forth between him and the space he was just occupying, “How in the world did you do that?”

Smiling wryly, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. You seem more like the sensible type.”

“Try me.”

Jackson sighs, “I’d tell you my whole life story but here’s the gist: I’m an angel. Yes, an angel. Wings. Heaven. That whole bit. I was going to try and ease you into this but it looks like that conversation could last awhile. I’ll answer all your questions, eventually, but we need to head back to your apartment. Y/N is there and she’s not in the best shape and I feel like it would be more of a comfort if her best friend was there.”

She ignores the fact that he just said he was an angel and at the mention of your name, she straightens, eyes widening, “When you say bad shape you don’t mean like...real bad shape do you?”

“She’s mostly fine now. She passed out but she’s still in one piece. There’s good...people watching her now. But I figured you’d want to know as soon as possible instead of coming home and finding her, and us, there.”

Her eyebrows rise in surprise, “Us? There’s strangers in my apartment watching my best friend?”

Sheepishly, he smiles, “Like I said. Good people. Now stop looking at me like my wings have sprouted out from behind me and let’s go. We can take my car because I know you walked here from the precinct like a crazy person.”

He tucks her under his arm, waves to one of the bartenders, and walks towards the back where the parking lot is. She doesn’t really know why she’s going along but there’s something about Jackson that seems familiar, his arm around her a sort of comfort. She wants to ask, the question burning on the tip of her tongue, but she doesn’t really know how to bring it up.

It’s a few minutes into the drive when she catches him smirking, “You can ask me something if you’re that curious.”

She sinks a bit into her seat, feeling like she had just gotten caught, “I have a thousand questions. You said we don’t have time for that.”

He holds up one finger, “What’s the one question that sticks out above the rest?”

She bites her lip, thinking. After a few seconds, she scoots back up in her seat and turns to him, “...do we know each other?”

That catches him off guard, mouth opening and closing without any words coming out. “Do you think we know each other?”

“When you grabbed me back at the bar,” she admits, recalling the feeling of being sucked into something she couldn’t control, “it was like...a flash of something? It felt like a memory. You were there. I was there. But I’m dressed...I’m not dressed in something you’d find in the 21st century. It was quick! So I’m uh..not really sure of what I saw. I just know it felt familiar.”

He seems to be focusing so hard on the road ahead of him and she’s afraid she’s upset him somehow. Usually, she is a little loud and by now, she would’ve demanded to know what was on his mind. Years as a police captain had taught her to take instead of wait for what she wanted. But now, here with Jackson, she finds herself shy and unsure. It’s very unlike her and she didn’t know if that was bad or good. She gasps quietly when he finally speaks up, “There’s an explanation for what happened. To what you’re feeling. To what you saw. But it’s not a conversation for now. There are bigger things, more dangerous things, and I want to be able to prepare you for that. Save that question and I’ll answer it.”

“Eventually,” she jokes.

His smile is bright but she notices how tinged with sadness it seemed to be.

“Yeah. Eventually.”

A/N: in case you were curious, this scene would technically take place in the middle of part four (which will be posted on June 30)

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wordydelights · 8 years ago

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first chapter of the first book i ever tried to write

When Galaxies Collide

11:39 AM, November 29th

As I tapped my no. 2 against the side of my desk, I could tell others around me were becoming annoyed. But, that didn't seem to bother me much. The ticking of each second passing by echoed throughout my eardrums. The day was going slower than normal.

It was torture.

I'd usually be scribbling something on the corner of my notebook by now, but the inspiration I needed wasn't present at the moment. I was just waiting for it to walk through the door.

11:43 AM

The classrooms' temperature caused my hands to numb and drift asleep.The dull environment, dry with boredom, painted the students' faces with clear disinterest. Blank sheets of paper sat on each desk, patiently awaiting to be written on, alas no one could find the strength to lift their fingers.

The teachers here refer to us as a lazy generation, concluding we only spend our time watching 'screens' all day and don't know how to socialize, on account of being caught up in our make-believe worlds. They also believe that the public school system is a well established institute for education...and our school's sports teams don't suck. So who's the real loser?

My yawning began to fog the glasses now resting on the tip of my nose. I gently removed the specs, carefully wiping them off with the knit sleeve of my sweater. I'd occasionally wear contacts but I was usually too lazy to deal with carefully shoving plastic underneath my eyelids.

I had sat in the back of the classroom, three rows to the left, giving me a perfect view of my fellow peers, the white board and the lovely scenery of the school's totally non-crappy parking lot, outside the window.

A faint sound began to tickle my ears. As it grew louder I was able to make out my name. Don't worry, I thought. Hearing your name being called is the sign of a healthy mind. Either that or I was becoming schizophrenic. But, unfortunately this wasn't a figment of my imagination, let alone a psychotic voice in my head.

"Jackson."

I snapped my head up towards the front of the classroom, like being resurrected with a sudden jolt. My eyes met the shiny forehead, wrinkled with distress of The Professor. He was a World History teacher at Oakwood High. No one seemed to refer to him by his real name, honestly, I think most of us had forgotten it.

The Professor had always made a huge deal about universities, how hard it is to get in and statistically most of us will end up at a dead-end community college with a degree in flipping burnt burgers. To make matters worse, he constantly bragged about his past employment at Harvard.

The big question he hadn't answered however was 'how he got from Harvard to a low budget public school in Forest Grove, Oregon.' Bigger question, 'how he was removed from Harvard's distinguished faculty?.'

Never once did he object to this sarcastic nickname which was used to describe his unhealthy obsession. As a matter-of-fact he took pride in it. Probably because it reminded him of the times he once had a bigger paycheck, respectful students and a school with an IQ average larger than 60. Or partly because he was an arrogant asshole, who enjoys dwelling on the past.

"Daydreaming again, I see," he said expressionless. His specialty.

"No s-s-ir," my voice cracked.

I heard snickers from multiple students around the room.

Damn you puberty.

"I was just looking for a bit of inspiration."

"Inspiration," he smirked. "How is that related to the lesson?"

My eyes darted across the whiteboard, searching for the title of today's topic, written in it's general bold letters.

The Age of Enlightenment.

"Well sir, during the Enlightenment period, inspiration was what all people were searching for."

"And have you found any inspiration?"

"Not yet, it hasn't seemed to arrive."

He squinted his eyes as if trying to read to me. Scanning my body language, then absorbing the information obtained. I knew I was about to be asked to explain to the class something complex, that I obviously don't know about the Enlightenment. It was his typical routine for making me look like an idiot, not like he had to try.

11:47 AM

As soon as he opened his mouth to speak, the words on the tip of his tongue, the door swung open. Inspiration had arrived.

"Hi sorry...you would not believe the hallway traffic."

She was on her usual time. Not too late to be counted absent, but late enough to piss of The Professor.

"Pass?" The tone in his voice was dripping with frustration.

She walked up with a certain confidence in her stride. Not the prideful, vain kind. The bold kind. Too bold. So bold it was a cover up for something dark lying within.

She pushed the hair out of her face, and flashed a smile, a fake, phony, I-hate-you smile, proceeding to hand over a crumpled up hall pass.

The Professor snatched the piece of paper out of her hand, quickly analyzed it and sighed,

"Just go sit down."

"Gladly," she'd snap back without missing a beat.

I watched as she made her way to her desk dropping the bag to the floor and whipping her classic black and white chucks up onto the empty seat in front of her, then continued to twist the stained silver ring on her finger.

Some days were better than others. She never truly disrupted class. She just threw on a show whenever she came in.

Never once did she acknowledge my presence this entire year. I doubt she even vaguely remembered me.

She had changed so much since the four-foot-three Serene Easton from elementary school.

No longer did she wear that burgundy ribbon in her hair, candy bracelets or fuzzy scrunchies on her wrists. She moved away one summer just as we were about to start the seventh grade. I don't know where or why, but I do know I bawled my eyes out for a month straight.

I just couldn't bare the thought of her not being there for me when I needed her most. I don't even really remember much of the time we spent together. It was mostly Halo dragging me along her wild goose chases, getting busted with Halo for tagging along those wild goose chases, and brief moments with Noel during those wild goose chases, probably only lasting half a second, that had been sown in my being.

I told her to write. She didn't. I told her to call. No calls received. I told her to send a damn email. No emails sent.

Her response to each of my requests was a half smile, followed by a nod and sincere look in her eyes. I was like a puppy being left at the local Humane Society, thinking, surely their owner will be back for them.

But, they never were.

Oddly enough, my parents thought it was good, healthy even, that the only friend I had was leaving. My mother was afraid I would become too dependent on Halo if our friendship sustained. And I'm fairly certain my father was becoming worried about my sexuality.

Being a young boy, who wasn't quite as athletically gifted as others and only able to maintain one friend who happened to be female, caused him to raise some suspicions. Also, my incriminating actions might have come into play. Such as, not being able to change in front of other boys or perhaps stumbling upon gay porn on their computer, but I swear, it was already there when I went to use the laptop.

Nevertheless, my family supported me through thick and thin, but at the same time, had awkward conversations about how they accept me for who I am and will always love me not matter what.

Despite my parents' 'words of wisdom,' I will never forget Halo's last words she said to me before she left.

"The story continues."

She said it cryptically, like it was my job to decode the message behind it. The mystery bouncing within the light of her eyes.

Halo had never found pleasure in saying goodbyes, as a result she would say things like 'see ya later' or 'until next time.' In her own words; goodbye is too permanent. But, this time, this saying was different. What did she mean by 'the story continues'? What was the story? Was it her life? Was I just a mere chapter or an adventure to move on from? Or was the story both of us? How we have future journeys lying ahead, just waiting to be ventured upon. Maybe her moving away was just an example of the plot thickening.

I might never realize what she truly meant, however, it gives me hope.

Lunch at Oakwood was pretty much what you would expect for your customary high school. Freshman sitting with freshman, sophomores with sophomores...yeah, you get the gist. Girls on one side, guys on the other, then a couple of mixed tables scattered across the sea of pubescent bodies.

It's a small school. Our last graduating class contained about 136 students. Out of a total population of 584.

Everyone had a place and if you didn't it's because you chose not to have one. That was just my theory at least. I'd always been that shy, quiet guy.

I had become a master of blending in, being overlooked by almost everyone was my speciality.

"Jackson, mah brotha from anotha motha!" Ravon announced as he approached the table. His feign, early 2000's, ghetto slang caused me to cringe. The buttons on the back pockets of his acid wash jeans scraped against the seat next to Aditi, as he began to sit down, creating a group of three. He advanced to unraveling his brown, paper, lunch bag, revealing his masterpiece of a PB&J.

"Hey," he pointed. "Check out that spicy chocolate mama."

Ravon drew Aditi and I's attention over towards Jasmine Baker, senior class president. We watched as she made her way over to her pretentious, intellectually gifted friends. Her hips swayed with each step followed by the sound of her high heeled boots clicking against the marble floor.

"Bow-chicka-wow-wow," Aditi exclaimed.

His thick Indian accent made it hard not to burst into laughter. I snorted.

Aditi was a foreign exchange student from India. He didn't know much English, so he would say words completely irrelevant to the topic, however, I was surprised to hear how much he had improved.

"M-m-mmm," Ravon drooled. "That's one stone cold fox."

I awkwardly shrugged, picking at the glutinous macaroni and cheese, now glued to the paper tray.

"Aw, hell nah."

Ravon stared at me with an almost how-dare-you expression slapped across his face.

"What?" I asked.

He moved closer to my face. So close, I could smell the potent peanut butter aroma permeating the air from his mouth."Did you just diss the chocolate mamas?"

"No, I just don't find Jasmine very appealing."

Which was true. I didn't find girls who covered up their insecurities with false confidence very attractive. Girls who lived for themselves instead were more my type.

I finally looked from my pathetic excuse for a meal and up at Ravon. His dark skin in piercing contrast with his coral polo shirt. He blinked twice. I couldn't tell if he was about explode into a full-fledged rant about how dissing the 'chocolate mamas' was like sucker punching his future love child Tyron. And nobody touches little Tyron. Or laugh it off, pat my back and put this insignificant feud behind us.

Ravon was an interesting character. For example, using words which were televised in the late 90's and dressing in similar fashion to a cast member from a Fresh Prince rerun.

The tension in the air was becoming too thick to breathe. Luckily Aditi broke the ice.

"Bay-gull," He exclaimed in his way of saying the word bagel. At least, so we think..

"Yes, Aditi," Ravon hesitated. "Bagel indeed."

There was something uneasy about the way he spoke, nonetheless, I disregarded it..

Out of the corner of my eye, I captured a glimpse of Halo eagerly walking towards the outdoor lunch patio. I guess I made it obvious as to what I was staring at, because I received unnecessary commentary to my vision.

"Hellooo," Ravon flirtatiously said, lifting both of his eyebrows. "Vanilla mama."

"You're obsession with comparing women to pieces of candy is becoming disturbing," I mumbled while burying my face into my palms. Through the cracks of my fingers, I spotted the back of Halo vanishing behind the corner of school, racing to the usual spot where her group of 'juvenile delinquents' sat. Gone, once again.

I spent the rest of the period listening to Ravon ramble about getting to second-base with a girl waiting in line at the mall. On the other hand, I'm pretty sure I saw him there the other day groping a mannequin.

It was relatively easy pretending to pay attention to Ravon. All you had to do was nod and half smile occasionally. He was that type of person who lived in a false reality. Choosing not to believe the fact that the only people he had to speak to included someone who obviously couldn't care less and someone who didn't understand half of what he was saying.

The problem with me was that it became so hard to connect, to feel any emotion whatsoever. It's better when it's just me. My mind and I, we go well together. We agree about everything. It's really all I need. Friends come and go, leading to grief. Why waste all that energy on the expected? So yes, I'm not actually friends with Aditi or Ravon. They just happen to be people in this specific chapter of my life. By the time I'm thirty, I probably won't even remember them. Sad, but true.

I just prefer thinking realistically.

With a hop, skip and jump in my step, I was dumped on the side of the road, attempting to avoid slamming into the bright, red stop sign. I was possibly the only junior at Oakwood who still road the bus to school instead of driving their own 'set of wheels.' The stop was half a mile away from my house, which was far, but not too far to walk home. It happened to be very calm and reflective. I don't know why, but there is something about walking alone that just helps you forget all of the pesky problems in life. Cars passed by me leaving a gust of wind to be remembered by. Puddles were dispersed across the road, which wasn't quite unusual when living in Oregon. The trees were almost bare, only few Amber and ruby colored leaves attached to the claws of their branches. Every now and then I'd see someone I recognize from school, but I don't think I'd look as familiar to them as they do to me.

About a quarter of a mile away from my destination I'd pass a small white house. Its curtains closed, concealing secrets to the curious eye. It looked like your average suburban home. A welcome mat by the front door, wind chimes hanging from over its porch, and a lawn in slight need of a good mow. It definitely did not appear to be the type of home you'd expect Halo Easton to be living in.

I wasn't quite sure if she was home at the moment, there appeared to be no activity coming from within, except for the slight flickering of a light, most likely from a television screen, piercing through the closed blinds. Then again, Halo was the type of person that never seemed to be at home.

By the time I had arrived, my mother was in the front yard hauling what had the appearance of tacky couch from the 70's, from our family pickup truck. One end of the abomination was tilted against the driveway, the other leaning against the tailgate of the vehicle.

"Oh! Jackson, honey, could you come help me with this?"

Sweat poured from the top of her head, as she wiped her face with the white apron she normally used for cleaning.

I made my way over towards the hideous piece of furniture, it's yellowish piss coloring, velvet fabric, with brown and white stripes outlining it's unflattering frame.

"Mom, did you buy this?" I asked while trying to hide my horrified expression.

"No, sweetheart you know me better than that," She paused, catching her breath.

"I found it in of one of our neighbors front yards! Can you believe someone was just giving it away!?"

My mother was a hoarder. As hard as she wanted to admit it, she was. She liked collecting junk, adding to her insatiable collection of stuff she will most likely never use. I guess she thought she would sometime, in the near distant future, fix her junk up or put it to some sort of benefit, unfortunately she never did. So, now we had achieved a garage filled from bicycles missing wheels, to the largest world collection of disfigured beanie babies. Even though she was a bit crazy, I sort of admired her for it in a way. She was able to see a beauty, that no one else did, in the things she found. After all, I had to get my artistic side from somewhere.

"Ok, one, two, three, lift."

The nonexistent muscles I had in my arms, were straining. I was unprepared for the amount of weight I was now lifting. I felt my heart beating twice as fast, almost as if screaming, 'Shouldn't have skipped gym you weak bitch.'

Somehow we managed to tilt the 'couch from hell' rightside up. Mostly because I let it fall to the ground at the last second.

"Good, now help me move it into the garage."

I might've started screaming bloody murder, if my little sister Gracie hadn't opened the front door and shouted, "Daddy's home!"

Slowly, my father's blue minivan rolled up the driveway. Gracie, with a sheet of notebook paper covered with multicolored scribbles in her hands, ran towards the door of the car, excitedly tapping on its window.

My father calmly walked out, but I could tell by his constant glances over towards the new piece of furniture we now owned, which he now had to help move, was ready to burn mother's garage full of trinkets.

"Daddy look." Gracie held up her art, stained with a bit of 100% grape juicy juice.

"Aren't I just as good as Jackson? It's abstract. Just like the one drawing you guys really liked that he did, except mine has color!"

"It's beautiful," my father faintly smiled, but the reassurance in his voice wasn't very prominent.

I smirked at her jealousy of the talents I possessed. She always looked up to her big brother Landon, but he had been away at college for the past few months, so I guess I was her backup plan. However, she didn't hold the same sort of honor she had for me as she had for Landon. It was that 'middle child honor.' The type of honor that truly does look up to you, just doesn't like showing it. The type of honor that likes to bring up embarrassing moments that will haunt you for the rest of your life, steal your towel and clothes while taking a shower and eat the last bite of your favorite cereal.

Luckily, I had my revenge planned. When she really pisses me off I can finally tell her the truth about her unplanned conception.

"How was work dad?" I never usually acted this interested in my father's occupation, mostly because it involved unclogging the shit out of people's toilets, but I was trying to avoid carrying the monstrosity of a sofa to the garage.

"Eh," his common response. He wasn't the most emotional person, especially on days when he was in one of his 'moods.' This was one of those days.

He made his way towards mother, despite her stockpile-syndrome, you could tell he loved her more than life itself.

"Hey hon," he said, softly pecking her on the lips.

It was like her insanity was a part of him that he adored. The part that kept him young, helping him remember their early blossoming romance. They were complete opposites, yet each mirrored the other. Each bringing out the other's character.

As I see it, everything needs it's opposing pair. It wouldn't be whole without it.

What would the moon be without the sun, the light without darkness, bitter without sweet, grief without joy, love without hate? These forces balance each other out. My parents are like that.

My mother smiled, then began, "Hey! Oooo, do you think you could help me move thi-" mother began but was cut off.

"I'm already on it," my father laughed, lifting one side of the couch, clearly exhausted.

I started to walk into the house, the straps of my backpack now chaffing my shoulders. We had lived in this house for about 18 years. Apparently after mom found out she was pregnant once again, they figured it was best to start searching for a place other than the one bedroom condo they were already living in. They found our home thinking it would be a proper family home. Instead, it turned out to be infested with termites, gnawing away at the wooden beams supporting our ceilings. Of course, an exterminator was hired. After that slight bump in the road, a paint job and serious cleaning, it turned out to be the domicile we would spend the rest of our childhood in. All of our precious memories, which we held dear, lied within it's walls.

I raced up the stairway to my room. The house, unlike our garage, was rather neat. My Father and I had always shared a passion for order. I guess I wasn't quite as uptight as he was, although I did become slightly OCD about a backwards roll of toilet paper.

My bedroom was whitewashed with well. . .white. Colorless and bland.

It's not that I was a boring stick-in-the-mud, I just didn't want to ruin the elegance my room pertained. It was like an empty canvas, a blank sheet of paper. Having so much potential. Potential that could easily be destroyed.

My fear was screwing things up.

As an aspiring artist, you might find it odd how I'm exceptionally organized, rather dull and basic. Not all artists have to be these messy slobs, using vibrant colors, seeing things differently than others.

I saw things for the way they were.

I laid my backpack down by the side of my bed, it's zipper clanking against the metal frame. It was time for my daily procrastination. I rolled open the drawer to my drafting table. Its polished wooden frame, still held the freshly cut pine scent, regardless of how old it was. Delicately choosing a pencil from my collection. It needed to be ideal. It's lead not too stubby, so I didn't have to find the energy to choose a new tool, yet not too sharp so it wouldn't break during the process. I tried taking a few short breaths. Attempting to clear my mind.

I liked playing a game with myself. The first thought which popped into my head, I would draw. I counted to four. Not three. Not five. Four. It was the number in between, commonly overlooked as a number to count to.

Just like me.

One....Two....Three...Four.

The gears in my brain started turning, sorting through the files of my mind, seeking for the perfect thought. It scanned through the alphabet.

A...B...C...D....E...STOP!

Yes, E.

The word became clear, its letters floating about.

Emptiness.

Beginning is always the hardest part. It is the foundation for everything. All the work you do from that point on stands upon the structure you created.

The first thing that came to mind when picturing the word was someone hiding behind a mask. Disguising their pain.

I proceeded to sketch a young girl, probably around Gracie's age. Her hair, hiding half her face. Each strand, unkempt, and untamed. She was smiling, yet the crinkles near her eyes told another story. A vacant heart.

A label was printed across her forehead. Numbers, like an ID.

18, 5, 10, 5, 3, 20, 5, 4.

Each number representing a letter. Each letter forming a word. A word that was the root cause of all emptiness. Being rejected.

She could fool anyone who was gullible enough to believe her false sense of contentment. Only those who looked close enough were able to see the agony beneath her facade.

Later that evening, while shading the striking features of the girl's face, darkening her glassy, tear-filled eyes, I was called down for dinner. My creative flow now interrupted, I made my way downstairs. My family each in their traditional seats. We use to have a big fancy dinner table, for guests, but I guess after the first awkward dinner with the Peterson's, and the fact we rarely ever had guests over, we sold it and bought a table much more accustomed to the size of our family. We only had one extra seat, of course in the garage, which was for Landon when he returned from (insert school name here). I plopped into the last available chair, my nose meeting the delicious fragrance of chinese take-out.

Egg rolls, white rice with baby shrimp, teriyaki chicken and those oh-so-sweet stargoons. I guess mom was too lazy to cook tonight. Again.

But, I wasn't complaining.

It was at that moment when I realized just how starving I was. I had forgotten I didn't eat my lunch.

I commenced to quietly dip my egg roll into a small packet of 'duck sauce' or whatever the hell it was and continued to stuff my face with a bite far too large for my mouth.

"So, Jackson, Gracie, you're father and I have some news."

I raised my head, my cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk trying to store his precious supply of nuts. Haha, nuts.

Dad just sat idly by while my mother eagerly took his hand. He seemed clueless. As if he was a random passerby who had just won a lifetime supply of pastries for buying the millionth funnel cake.

"Landon's coming home for the weekend," she exclaimed.

Gracie enthusiastically shrieked like a mating dolphin from the top of her lungs.

"Not inside the house Grace," Dad grimaced.

"Jackson, honey, isn't that great?"

I guess the lack of emotion on my face and the fact I had said not a word might have given the impression I wasn't thrilled to be reuniting with my dear brother, who I had profoundly missed, or was taking his trip home for granted. No, it wasn't either of those things, I was only slightly busy attempting not to choke on the rather sizeable amount of egg roll I had just consumed. The lump in my throat felt as if it was the size of golf ball. The shells' sharp edges slowly slid down my throat.

Amazingly I was able to swallow the choking hazard.

"Yeah mom, that's awesome."

Lately my parents had been acting more attentive towards my needs, assuming I'm depressed or unhappy with my circumstances. I suppose they have noticed my increase in afternoon naps, deadpan smiles and most of my life being spent in my room.

Perhaps they thought bringing Landon back home for a little while, might help recover the 'old Jackson' whose absence had been accounted for.

Yes, I admit it. Landon leaving did make things difficult. But, it was my fault for getting so hung up on the situation. I knew he was leaving. I couldn't help but also feeling slight resentment towards Landon.

He left me. However, Landon wasn't to blame. This was a step he had to take in life. I never expected for him to stay home to tend to his emotional brothers' needs. It just gave me a taste of the truth. Even family will not always be there for you.

Although, I did begin acting unlike my common self around the time when Landon left, he wasn't the only factor that had come into play of my mysterious change in personality. I guess his disappearance was just the gateway to all of the crap I had been storing in my heart for years.

Think of it like Jenga, the more blocks you pile up, the more come tumbling down.

I was never the type of person to talk about their issues and receive perceptive insight, causing my life to magically become picture perfect, solving every single one of my problems, then rolling the credits with the Friends theme song.

Because life just wasn't that simple.

That night was probably like most. Laying in bed staring at my ceiling, weary yet unable to let loose and drift away. All that was left for me to do was think. Think about the inevitable fact that I would soon fall asleep, unfortunately I would have to spend the next few minutes, before that happens, and suffer. I guess this was mother nature's way of letting you reflect on your actions, those humiliating moments we regret, causing us the gut-wrenching feeling of condemnation.

But, there were no moments belonging to me I had to ponder. I could only ask myself, what the hell happened to her?

Halo was a mission impossible movie. There was always something exciting and adventurous just around the corner. Her motto once was there would be no rules without rebellion. She'd then emphasize the statement saying how technically she was enforcing the rules by breaking them. She was one of those people who would have an idea, not take a second longer to think about what had just entered her mind and do it. From what it seemed, her impulsiveness had not changed much or her thirst for an adrenaline rush. No, what had changed was the wholesome tone she use to have in her voice. Each word was now filled with no meaning and each action was driven from a burning desire to fill the void in her soul, only enlarging.

If only I could just find enough courage to talk to her.

But, what would I say?

"Hey, uh, remember me? Jackson Novak. We use to hang out when were like ten, and I've noticed you recently moved back into the neighborhood this past year. Sorry if you ever caught me stalkerishly staring at your house, I was just wondering if you were home and what you might've doing."

Oh yeah, she'd probably just fall right into my arms after that glorious soliloquy.

Actually she might just jackslap me in the face for even considering speaking to her. After all, she had made it very clear she either never wanted to talk to me again, or suffered a terrible case of amnesia, causing her to lose about four years worth of her memory.

In all fairness, we were young.

We have matured quite a bit since our last rendezvous. She definitely wasn't that flat chested little girl from the fifth grade anymore. So, maybe it's possible she didn't recognize me?

That's ridiculous, I hadn't changed that much. I was still rather freckled face, sustaining your basic non-aerobic physique, just a foot and a half taller and different pair of glasses. I couldn't have changed to a certain degree making me unrecognizable.

Yes, it had been about five years, I'll give her that, but wouldn't she find me the slightest bit familiar?

Maybe, her life just didn't have enough room for me at the moment. She was already busy with her other friends, she just hadn't found the words to say to me yet.

Or maybe, my special gift of blending into the crowd was becoming better than I intended.

"Yeah, that was it," I tried telling myself, sinking into denial. Even though I hadn't chosen a possible theory to which I agreed with.

It was sometimes easier to deceive yourself than accepting the facts.

But, what's the point? She's moved on.

I wanted to hate her. To hate her for planting seeds of hope. For making me wish she would look at me and smile, reminiscing on a moment we once shared. She left me in suspense, on the edge of my seat, eagerly waiting to see what her next move would be.

But, I didn't hate her. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't.

#the title is when galaxies collide #writeblr #writelr #YA #young adult #teen fiction #awkward #lit #literature #aspiring author #writers of tumblr

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