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blackradandmad · 3 years

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why blippi is rotting yr children's brains

preface: i literally expect no one to read this. it is an essay length, strong opinion piece critiquing a niche youtube-based children's show that i don't expect most of y'all to even have knowledge of lol. but like, i promise that even if you know nothing about what i'm talking about, in my incredibly, super humble opinion, it's a good piece of writing and interesting nonetheless. anyway if you read this whole thing for some reason yr really hot and we should kiss.

i thoroughly vet everything my child watches before he watches it, episode by episode. and we rarely watch youtube for entertainment; we usually just look up educational videos when he has a question about something and wants more detail than i can provide him. and that's mainly because children's content on youtube is so fucking troubling and distressing. i don't judge parents who give their children a tablet at a restaurant at all bc i've been there and sometimes it's easier on everyone to just put on a video and avoid a giant scene, but i do judge parents who just leave their children alone with youtube kids on autoplay.

take stevin john, a literal millionaire who got famous from dressing up as a silly character called blippi and going on tours of places like aquariums, zoos, construction sites, etc and posting it on youtube. this has branched into a whole empire of blippi videos, hulu shows and specials, live shows and tours (that he outsources to another character actor), merchandise and so on. this 30-something year old man cites his main influence as being mr. rogers, but i question if he's ever even seen an episode of that program.

mr. rogers had no background in early childhood development or media production, but he revolutionized the world of children's media, because he respected his audience and didn't shy away from real world situations, all while creating a show with an enormous heart. mr. rogers begins his episodes by inviting the viewer in, literally changing his attire to be more comfortable, and talking about/doing things he genuinely cares about. whereas mr. rogers calmly and maturely addresses the viewer, blippi puts on a high pitched, contrived voice, interjecting every other sentence with a forced exclamation such as, "teehee! we're having so much fun!"

i don't find it a coincidence that john (blippi) is a veteran, either. his videos are completely devoid of the absurd, abstract, childlike thinking that makes children's media fun, creative, and entertaining. his thinking and process is methodical, devoid of emotion, and very superficial. this line of thinking clearly shows the kind of creative sterilization and emphasis on sameness and conformity instilled in the military. blippi simply observes things and interacts with them in a stale, matter-of-fact way. "this ball is purple! this ball is pink! anyway... what's over there? teehee! a car! vroom, vroom!" objects are colors, toy cars don't do anything but drive, curiosity is simply not encouraged.

he uses the "it's educational!" excuse to hide the fact that his show lacks everything that makes media a valuable resource for children to consume in the first place. further than identifying colors, numbers, and the occasional letter or shape, there is just this total lack of children's need for social and emotional development. when mr. rogers breaks the fourth wall to address the viewer and let them know they're special, it feels authentic and natural, because we've spent the last half hour building whole worlds with diverse characters and unique stories in a pretend neighborhood, learning about and enjoying different musical instruments, being exposed to and making friends with (even if parasocially, it is still a real bond to children when done properly) children who are similar to us in character regardless of physical or environmental differences, feeding the fish, making art together, and so on. when blippi tells the viewer, "you are very special, and i enjoy spending time with you!" it falls completely flat and feels unearned, because the last half hour was spent running around a soft play center pointing at bright, colorful objects, visiting interesting locations like farms or fruit production factories while failing to acknowledge the humanity of the humans actually working there (everything is machine or product focused; the human workers are simply an extension of the machine), learning "fun facts" about elephants that just list attributes of elephants, not taking the opportunity to inform the viewers of elephants' intelligence, or diet, or matriarchal society. it is a loud, sensory overwhelming display of a man so disconnected from the social and emotional needs and desires of children that he assumes they're stupid, easily entertained idiots who only need some silly dances and fast-moving cartoon graphics to give their attention (meaning time and desire to purchase products meaning $$$). john clearly views his audience as a means to gaming the algorithm and ultimately a paycheck by the hollow way he addresses them.

the show is so narcissistic, so focused on all the fun blippi is supposedly having, but he lacks any of the character traits that make individual children's show hosts memorable, so much so that he was able to have someone else who doesn't even vaguely resemble him dress as blippi and impersonate him and host the show or appear at live shows, and it went unnoticed by most of his toddler and child audience. the show is so formulaic and the character of blippi is so unmemorable that instead of taking the blue's clues route of developing a story of the host leaving for college and his brother now stepping in, or making some sort of believable excuse for the change in actors, they can simply swap him out with some random guy and not acknowledge it at all. although a comedy show for older children, the amanda show in no way could or would try to replicate the show with the same name but swapping out amanda bynes with a random teenage girl who is clearly not amanda bynes. it's weird and nonsensical and shows that his character is so much of a farce put on for a paycheck that not even his dedicated audience is affected or even cares when he is replaced by a random, unknown person.

this is completely garbage content made by an opportunist with no experience with children who saw his nephew watching children's youtube content, took it at complete surface level and still hasn't realized that while children's content only looks and feels so easy, entertaining, and enriching because it is so hard to do well. even with outsourcing his music, that aspect of the show still sucks. famous and successful children's musician, raffi, is known for his song describing the life of a little white whale, called "baby beluga." it opens with a calm strumming of his guitar, followed by the lyrics, "baby beluga in the deep blue sea/swim so wild and you swim so free/heaven above/sea below/and a little white whale on the go." is it silly and kind of pointless? yes, but the point is that he is captivating children and showing them the fun of listening to music, dancing, singing, and appreciating art. the "excavator song" featured in an episode of blippi about construction vehicles opens with what sounds like a default garageband loop and the flatly sung lyrics, "i'm an excavator/i'm an excavator/hey dirt, see you later/i'm an excavator." i don't feel i have to meticulously analyze the aforementioned lyrics; the stark contrast should speak for itself.

i have a million more criticisms about both blippi specifically and youtube children's content as a whole, but this is already so long and i doubt many people will get this far anyway. it's an issue i was completely apathetic towards until i had my own child and had to wean him off these kinds of junk food shows because i realized the fast-paced visuals and bright colors and repetitive songs/lyrics were putting him in this spaced-out, fugue state, and he thought he could demand this show or that show whenever he wanted. the moment he started regularly yelling things like, "watch! cars!" or "no! click it!" i knew i had to be a lot more invested in the things he watched even if just for entertainment or as a soothing message. i showed him an episode of mr. rogers yesterday and feared it would be too slow to hold his attention, but he was mesmerized, greeting and interacting with mr. rogers verbally, asking me, "what's that?" to different objects on the screen. since purging this low-brow children's entertainment, he has had a noticeable increase in attention span and concentration, can focus on a task for longer amounts of times, is more likely to "read"/look through books without me initiating it, and doesn't throw a fit when the tv/my laptop is off.

i just know that for me, growing up with so much unsupervised internet access definitely led me to real-world pain and consequences, and it seems like now children are born with an iphone as an extension of their arm. if my child is going to be consuming videos, i'm definitely supervising every second and am going to be highly critical of the videos and the credentials (or lack thereof) of the creators and team behind it. but i also know, from pure observation admittedly, that parents letting youtube kids autoplay parent their children for hours at a time is not an uncommon occurrence. and it worries me that a generation of children are being raised on videos that rely on being as loud and bright and superficially enjoyable as possible. what's the use of a child knowing their colors and alphabet if they don't know how to treat people with kindness and empathy and respect? there is something wrong for a children's show host to plug the spelling of his name at the end of his videos ("well, that's the end of this video. but if you wanna watch more of my videos, just type in my name! can you spell my name with me? b-l-i-p-p-i!") after essentially rotting his audiences' brains for a half hour. there's something so insidious about the prioritization of naming different parts of construction vehicles over honest depictions of and conversations about dealing with feelings, or why someone with autism may act differently than you, or what to do when you feel lonely, or ways to make art and express yrself creatively. also, not to mention the blatant police propaganda and outright worship is seriously jarring; as a black mother to a visibly non-white child, i cannot sit there and watch blippi show kids how to be a bootlicker for the shittiest profession on earth, but that could be a whole essay in and of itself.

anyway, thanks for reading, if yr looking for quality children's content, i recommend, in no specific order: mr. rogers, sesame street, the electric company, molly of denali, daniel tiger, bluey!, blue's clues, the odd squad, word party, trash truck, puffin rock, uhh... that's definitely not an extensive list but that's just off the dome!!! ok bye y'all <333

#lil rambles #long post t #idk why it's formatted like this ig cos i copy pasted from my fb?#whatever anyway idk why i waste my writing skills on shit literally nobody else but me cares abt #blippi #children's television

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canyouhearthelight · 3 years

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The Miys, Ch. 150

I think for the time being, I am going to quit calling myself ‘late’ posting as long as I get the chapter up on the right day of the week *facepalm*. Bc I am barely keeping ahead, much less remembering to queue things up.

I am so, so sorry about that....

Fair warning before anyone @s me: The French is a joke, so if I got it super wrong I am equally sorry to the degree of which it’s wrong.

Unless it’s obscene. Then I want to know so that I can laugh with you, and I am LEAVING IT.

As always, shouts out to @baelpenrose, @the-raven-fae, and @charlylimph-blog!

Heaving an enormous Dutch oven onto a burner, I turned on the heat low and started chopping vegetables. After the first celery stalk, I glanced up at Derek, who sat across from Maverick in our living room. The quarters were shaped differently, which had distressed Derek initially, but the addition of his favorite blankets to the sofa had helped. Currently, he was completely distracted from even Mac: staring off into space, his fingers flying and flicking with a feverish, almost convulsive movement.

Maverick glanced up at me with a smile before following my gaze. “Yep, the cyber siege continues. He’s doing well, from what Zach told me.”

“I thought he was only supposed to attack human-managed systems,” I grumbled, thinking back to the cold shower I had been subjected to that morning. Turning back to the vegetables, I made short work of the celery before taking my frustration out on the carrots. Scooping the diced vegetables into a bowl, I started measuring out paprika, sugar, salt, pepper, basil, and oregano into another bowl. “Where’s Sam, by the way?”

“On the way,” Maverick promised. “With Terran-style tomatoes, he swears. And Derek is only attacking systems we manage. When BioLab 2 was set up, we had to take over water management, to protect the lab from any sort of contamination.”

The knife in my hand, brandished at three cloves of garlic, clattered to the work surface. “Seriously?” I glared at the tap, suddenly suspicious.

“Probably get water from the console,” he winced, nodding briskly at Derek, who nodded in confirmation without stopping his tapping and flicking gestures.

Groaning, I shook my head and crushed the garlic, removed the skin, and started mincing. All that was left was to wait on the tomatoes from Sam. The garlic was potent enough, and I wanted to avoid cutting any onion until absolutely necessary since Derek was clearly parked for the duration.

I was saved about fifteen minutes later when Conor and Sam stopped at the door. Sam waved cheerfully and held up the requested vegetables while Conor removed his boots. A quick shuffle later for Sam to remove his own shoes, and both came to the food prep area - too small to be considered a proper kitchen - to greet me.

First, Conor gave me a big, smelly hug and a kiss on my hair. “Did you already slice the bread?”

“Ew, you gorilla!” I laughed. “And I haven’t sliced any bread yet, I wasn’t sure how long I had and I didn’t want it to get too stale.”

“They’re toasties, love.” He shook his head with a grin before swatting me on the butt. “No one cares if the bread was a bit stale before you started.”

Over his shoulder, Derek’s head bobbed side to side. “I think someone disagrees.” I looked meaningfully past him. To Conor’s credit, he looked sheepish.

Sam squeezed around and handed me the tomatoes and gave me a hug. “Thank you for making soup.”

“I know it’s our favorite,” I winked before shooing him out of the area. “Not enough room for more than one in the kitchen. Y’all go unwind out there, and make sure you warn Derek that I’m about to start cutting onions.”

As he held up his hands and jokingly scurried away, I turned to the stove and started cursing myself. I’d forgotten to start boiling water. Snagging a small saucepan, I got a carafe of water from the console and started rectifying that, tossing in a generous pinch of salt. Gently, I cut an X into the bottom of each tomato and set them aside before peeling and dicing the onion. Immediately, the onion, carrots, and celery went into a food processor. “Derek, I’m about to be loud,” I called softly before counting to ten to give him time to cover his ears or step into the corridor. A quick blitz later, the vegetables were perfectly between a mince and a puree.

A quick swizzle of oil went into the already-hot dutch oven before adding the mirepoix and giving it a quick stir. As if on cue, Tyche and Antoine breezed through the door, noses twitching.

“I smell food,” she announced, stalking into the kitchen. One look at the ingredients was all it took. “Ooooo you’re making the tomato soup.”

I couldn’t help laughing. “I am, and you know I don’t have room in here for spectators, unfortunately.” Arching an eyebrow, I pointed the spoon in my hand at the table.

She wasn’t having it. “One of these days, you’re going to show me how to make that. May as well be today.”

“Nice try, but I need some secrets. Besides, the longer I argue with you, the more likely the vegetables are going to scorch. Scoot!”

She scrunched her face at me but acquiesced. As I scooped the garlic into the pot, I heard her change topics. “How much longer is the stress test? My music keeps getting mixed up with Antoine’s. I don’t mind it, but…”

Antoine smiled softly and shook his head. “But it is quite a shock to expect classical music and instead her rock starts playing.”

Personally, I liked both, but still shuddered at what he was talking about. Carefully lowering three of the tomatoes into the now-boiling water, I glanced at the sauteing vegetables and gave them a quick stir to check. “We have about six more days before the repairs start, maybe four more after that?”

Conor sighed. “I wish we could ask if anything important was being hacked, not just annoying environmental controls.”

“Plants aren’t dead yet,” Sam pointed out, tipping his bottle of water toward Conor in a practiced gesture. Everyone laughed when, rather than being reassured, Conor leapt to his feet to check on his ‘babies’ in the room.

Cursing, I dipped the tomatoes out of the boiling water and dropped them immediately into an ice bath. A couple pokes with my trusty spoon showed they weren’t overcooked, thankfully. “None of my information for work has been acting up,” I admitted as I started peeling them. “But Pranav advised that more critical data would either go completely missing or not show any signs of infiltration. We won’t know until after the test is over.”

“Lovely,” Tyche drawled as she watched Conor fretting over the plants. “So it’s all or nothing.”

I shrugged and dumped the tomato paste - admittedly, from the console - into the pan of other vegetables. When I stirred, I was satisfied that the carrots, onion, and celery had cooked down to where they were soft. “In a weird way, it makes sense. They’re testing for catastrophic data breaches, which would pull everything down, or for data theft, which you wouldn’t want to leave traces of.”

The corner of Antoine’s mouth quirked up as I dropped three more tomatoes into the pan of boiling water. “No hidden boba tea this time, that is reassuring.”

Hands still moving without hesitation, Derek whipped his head toward Antoine, paused, and turned back to where he had been staring. Derek’s version of a glare.

“That was Charly,” I responded in unexpected unison with Maverick and Conor. I smirked while dumping the already-peeled tomatoes into the processor with another pinch of salt. “Seriously, Derek had nothing to do with that other than divine retribution.” I paused for a moment. “Although I do have to admit that the cold showers do seem to track with what Charly reported.”

That only got a shrug from Derek, which was as good as an admission.

The conversation shifted again - something Conor and Sam were working on in the aeroponics labs that I had already heard multiple details on, plus repetition. Tuning it out, I pulled out the last three tomatoes, dropped them in the ice bath, and took a platter with a loaf of bread, sliced cheese, and butter out to the table. “Mav, can you start setting up the sandwiches?”

He went to stand, but Tyche shooed him back down. “I got it. She may not let me help make the soup on this one, but I can prep a grilled cheese with the best.” Staring me in the eye, she started cutting slices from the loaf defiantly.

I just laughed it off. This was the only tomato soup either of us liked, and she had been chasing me for the recipe for ages. It had become a running joke at this point, so without hesitation, I moved back to the food prep area, peeled the remaining tomatoes, and gave another warning that I was going to be loud. Some more blitzing later, the now-pureed tomatoes went into the pan of veggies along with the spices I had already measured out, the juice from one lemon, and enough water to fill the pan three-quarters full. Leaving that to boil, I moved the boiling water off the stove and swapped it for a grill-pan.

“Sophie!” Conor cried from the armchair where he perched. “You’ve seen the plants we’re growing in the lab! Tell them we’ve managed a crop of roots!”

I winced. “Jury’s out… I’m not sure how aeroponic potatoes are going to turn out, but I can confirm they are in the process of finding out?”

Tyche’s knife fell to the table, and she moved her mouth silently in a very accurate imitation of a fish before managing to sputter. “Air-grown… potatoes?”

The confusion on Antoine’s face was painful to look at. He started to speak before stopping himself and instead pulling up his datapad, jotting a message, and flicking it out to the room.

When I read the message, the confusion was so clear that I hurt my sinuses snorting. Des pomme de terre en l’air? Pommes aeriennes? Talk about being lost in translation…. “Conor, Sam… I think Antoine has the perfect name for those if they work out. Just sayin’”

Tyche snorted and shook her head before handing me the platter, with a stack of perfectly buttered bread, two slices of cheese between every other slice of bread. The soup had just come to a simmer, so I was stirring intently and just nodded for her to start grilling sandwiches. Several appreciative sniffs and twenty minutes later, six bowls of soup and six matching sandwiches - three cut vertically and three cut diagonally, because it mattered and was not a battle I was willing to fight - hit the table. Tyche politely placed the salt cellar and a pepper grinder on the table, although the glare she dished out to the collected group promised strong retaliation to anyone who touched them.

I held up half of my grilled cheese in a mock-toast. “To soup night!”

“To air potato soup, soon!” Maverick offered up with a grin, only for everyone to echo his sentiment with the exception of Derek - who just held up half of his sandwich with one hand and tapped away with the other, not even relenting to eat.

Frankly, as long as he spared a hand to eat, I couldn’t bring myself to care. He took these tests very seriously, and generally only stopped when he was completely asleep.

Everyone dug in, but it was only after my first spoonful that I spoke up. “Considering how long it took to make sure the tomatoes wouldn’t be poisonous, I’m not sure the potatoes will be ready before we get to Von.”

Conor and Sam nodded, as did Tyche and Antoine, but Maverick stopped with his bowl halfway to his mouth. Setting it down gently, he angled his head. “What do you mean, poisonous?”

“They’re nightshades,” Conor told him, as calmly as if he was telling us that water was wet. “Tomatoes are the only edible berries of that family, and potatoes are the only edible tubers, so we have to be extra careful.”

Maverick’s eyes grew wide and turned toward his soup. Tyche just reached out and patted his hand. “You’ve eaten this soup for years, and you love tomatoes. They’re safe, I swear. And Sam won’t let Sophia near the new ones until he’s completely sure they’ll be okay to eat.”

Sam nodded, shoving a soup-covered wedge into his mouth. “We’re growing them in simulated Von-light, hoping that keeps the roots from creating chlorophyll. If we’re wrong, there’s a forty-three-point-six percent chance they won’t grow at all, ten-point-five percent chance they will give you a stomach ache, eighteen-point-four percent they won’t taste good, and twenty-seven-point-five percent they will taste good and be safe to eat at the same time.”

“Meaning they won’t kill you, you might get a tummy ache, but most likely for this generation, they just won’t grow,” Conor translated.

“Hang on,” I held up my spoon. “What kind of stomachache are we talking here?”

The mad botanists looked at each other and made a few thoughtful faces. Finally, Conor nodded and Sam spoke. “Unripe apples,” he stated flatly. “But just unripe apples.”

“Oh, that’s not too bad,” I shrugged and crunched into my sandwich.

Derek finished his half-sandwich and blindly reached for another. He had it halfway to his mouth before he looked at it and dropped it back to the plate in alarm. You would have thought it tried to bite him rather than vice versa.

Antoine shook his head and reached past the vertically cut sandwich Derek had dropped and delicately handed him a diagonally cut one. “Here you go, friend.”

Glaring at the sandwich like it may betray him, he bit it viciously before going back to the screen he could only see in his mind, seemingly satisfied that the sandwich would not change into the offending shape.

I told you, it matters.

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#the miys #found family #humans are weird #science fiction #aliens #apocalypse #humans are space orcs #humans are space fae #earth is space australia #post apocalypse #post post apocalypse #original science fiction #original sci fi #original writing

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mooniefics · 3 years

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bye bc i have not been able to get the thought of like,, you working as the candidate manager for the warrior program (aka glorified babysitter / school counselor) and reiner slowly falling for u over the years

— you’d first met him around a month after he returned from paradis, after he was finally debriefed and given countless ideological assessments, and he was just exhausted by the time he was finally allowed to see his family again but he still woke up early the next day to go with gabi to training. he saw how happily gabi greeted you, how warmly you smiled back, and he thought that if anyone was taking care of his little cousin over the years he was gone, he was grateful that it was someone who came off as nicely as you did.

— your first conversation initiated after gabi dragged him over by the arm and introduced the two of you herself, but you didn’t get to speak long before you all had to go your separate ways. the way you tucked a piece of gabi’s hair behind her ear and gingerly wrapped your arm around her as you led her off to her classes for the day makes his heart flutter.

— you two made small talk when you ran into each other, sometimes talking about the kids, sometimes talking about yourselves, nothing terribly personal, but he always found himself feeling much lighter after he got to see you.

— reiner accompanied you once when you chaperoned the kids’ recreational time in town and sat on the bench beside you while you both watched them all play around at the park you usually took them too. your voice was soft and affectionate as you told him that you sometimes forgot that they were just children, letting it slip that you couldn’t help but feel disheartened that they had been made to grow up so fast. you were worried that he, the one revered as the most loyal warrior, would report you for disrespecting the methods of marley, but he only sighed, smiling sadly as he replied, “me too.”

— one day when the kids were training, you and the warriors were standing to the side watching them, discussing casually amongst yourselves as you watched them run laps with all their gear. on the last go around, udo fell flat on his face, and before reiner can even turn to see your reaction, you were already running over to make sure he was okay. the exercise instructor forced you to wait for udo to make it to the end on his own, but as soon as he reached finish line, you rushed him away into the main school building. when you didn’t return for a few minutes, reiner ventured in to see where you’d gone, he found you both in an empty classroom—you kneeling in front of udo, handkerchief in hand, gently wiping the tears and dirt from his cheeks and telling him that he had done a good job, that everybody makes a mistake once in a while, that he was just as capable as the other candidates. he stood beside the door, listening to you comfort udo, feeling his own eyes watering as he did. he wished he had someone like you when he was young.

— the first time the two of you had a proper, in-depth conversation was the evening that the mid-east allied forces had declared war against marley, the only two left at the privacy of his quarters, sharing the last bottle of wine leftover between yourselves. the facade of perfect patriotism that you had both been careful to maintain had dissipated, whether because of the alcohol or because of the gravity of such impending doom weighing at your hearts. he’d learned that you’d been apart of the warrior program yourself, an unselected trainee in the class just a year below his own. you told him that was how you’d managed to secure yourself this position, but he said that it was much more than that, that you were a natural at a position that require such patience and compassion. the way your lips had turned up into the smallest of smiles made his cheeks flushed.

“i heard the war is going to be mostly naval. i doubt we’ll have to worry about any of us being shipped out to fight any time soon.”

you took a long sip from your glass, finishing off what remained, taking in a deep, pensive breath. “god forbid they send any of those kids away to the battlefield. god forbid they send you away.”

“me?” he said after a moment of silence, an odd sort of tightness cinching around his heart and lungs, squeezing tighter with every fine detail he noticed in your sorrowful expression—warm eyes filled with sympathy, mouth drawn down into a delicate frown, brow slightly knitted.

“you’ve seen enough. you’ve gone through enough, more than anyone should have to go through by themselves.”

reiner felt a lump beginning to form in his throat, an almost tangible ache echoing through his chest. that was the first time someone had ever told him that before.

— despite the worsening tension of war, reiner saw that you were just as cheerful as ever with the kids, bringing them sweets and desserts you made yourself when you got the chance, taking them out on their weekly outings and making sure they were doing alright just as normal. but he could see the way your face would shift when one of them piped up with something regarding the current battle being waged, spouting out the same propaganda he’d been force-fed for his entire life. you would only smile, patting them on the shoulder or rubbing their back, responding with a simple assertion that you were sure marley’s troops were doing great out there before changing the subject

“they’re so young. sometimes i forget they’re only children.”

your words from the park bench flitted across his mind, the words that you silently spoke when your eyes widened at gabi’s proclamation that marley’s glory would forever prevail, or when your lips pursed briefly at the four of them squabbling over who would inherit which titan.

“they’re too small to be holding such big weapons. those rifles they give them are taller than they are. it’s.. it’s...”

perverse? distressing? horrible? it was all of those things, and so much more. but you saw it. you didn’t egg them on like porco or zeke, you congratulated them without drenching it in more and more lies. you didn’t see them as soldiers-in-training, you didn’t see them as warriors, you saw them as they were. as children. you cared for them like he did.

— when the time came, you were shipped off to fort slava alongside the warrior unit, your training and your extensive experience working with the candidates for the past five years serving as the justification for your necessity. though reiner had wished to be around you more often, he didn't at all enjoy it in this context. seeing you in a full soldier’s uniform, skin dusted with dirt and gunpowder, a helmet that only seemed to have more and more dents and scratches in the metal with each day that passed—it felt so incredibly wrong. you didn’t belong in the trenches of war, and yet he still saw you running about every morning, previously soft hands becoming roughened and scarred, growing thinner and thinner from the stress and minuscule rations that were barely enough to get everyone through the day. and yet you were lively, still tending to the kids and attempting to give them a space away from the warfare outside when you could all retire to the unit’s dugout at night.

— one night, reiner had woken from his sleep and was too restless to return to it, unable to ignore the distant sounds of gunfire and shouts from outside, staring up at the ceiling from his bunk and allowing himself to drift away into his thoughts. he remembered all the nights he’d spent like this in his own home as a child, barely able to force himself to sleep for a few hours despite knowing that he had another long day of training ahead of him. but he turned over on his mattress at the sound of soft murmuring, the sound of sheets shifting and the quiet protest of the flimsy bed frames squeaking. in the dimness of the lantern that sat at the foot of gabi’s bunk, he saw you seated at her bedside, looking down at her as you spoke.

“are you okay? do you want me to wake up reiner?”

he couldn’t make out gabi’s mumbled response, but he saw the small silhouette of her head shaking from side to side on her pillow.

“i know he’s been looking tired lately, but i promise that he won’t be upset if we wake him up for a moment.”

another unintelligible reply from the young girl just barely occupied the air. a part of him wanted to step out of his bunk and see what she needed, but another, more persuasive thought kept him still, laying silently, watching on to see how you would tend to her. he knew that gabi admired you deeply, the fact that you’d managed to win her over was something that impressed him, but at the same time didn’t surprise him at all. he couldn’t imagine how anyone could dislike someone as gentle and thoughtful as you.

“you’re a big girl, gabi, so am i. but that doesn’t mean we don’t all need a little bit of help sometimes. it’s scary out here, and i’m so proud of you for holding your own out there. it’s okay to be scared.”

you were quiet for a moment, allowing for gabi to speak, a hand reaching out to gently stroke the side of her head and run through her hair. a quiet, genuine laugh slipping from you when she concluded.

“i promise i won’t tell anyone. i’ll get back to my bunk as soon as you get back to sleep. deal?”

he caught the end of an affirmative nod from his cousin, and the two of you fell silent. you stood for a moment to tuck the covers around her, sitting back down and returning to your soothing motions, looking almost like a dream in the glow of the soft illumination at your side.

he realized in that moment what that feeling in his chest was, the one that made his throat tighten just the slightest bit, that made him feel light as air for those few fleeting moments before the spell of you in his gaze was broken by some menial interruption. but the interruption didn’t come this time, nothing to remind him to bury his feelings and not ruminate on them long enough to figure out exactly what they were. he had been running from this revelation for far too long, and he knew exactly why—because it would be unfair to burden you with these feelings that he knew he shouldn’t have.

he loved how you made him feel. he loved seeing how cheerful you were even when it was too early in the morning for him to even be properly awake himself. he loved seeing how you smiled when the children hung onto you on your days out. he loved that you could see the appalling indoctrination of marley’s military might on it’s citizens for what it was. he loved how you saw him for more than his failure four years ago. he loved how tender you looked stroking his younger cousin’s hair, assuring her that you wouldn’t leave her until she was fast asleep. he loved you, honestly and wholeheartedly.

it was a selfish desire, a longing that he would have to keep to himself for your sake. but, in moments like these, where the vision of having something more seemed so close to his outstretched grasp, the thought of sharing his final years together rather than in a respectful coexistence, he found it so difficult to resist temptation.

if only he had more time.

24 / 7 reiner brainrot. i have an unfathomable amount of love for this man ( ; ω ; )

#reiner braun #reiner braun x you #reiner braun x reader #reiner fluff #reiner #reiner x reader #reiner x you #reiner brainrot #snk reiner #reiner braun snk #reiner braun drabble

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rainbuckets8 · 3 years

Text

Why you should watch RWBY

TL;DR:

Summary: RWBY is an epic fantasy with themes like found family, the struggle to remain hopeful, the younger generation growing up, villain redemption, and systemic evils.

Strengths: RWBY has unique and memorable characters. The show is smart. It has excellent cinematography and animation. It has representation. It tackles hard topics. It’s got incredible music and it’s free on RT’s website.

Weaknesses: RWBY has some early growing pains, specifically volume 2’s finale, as well as budget and polish. Later on, volume 4 is weaker than the rest. Volume 8's finale is extremely distressing for a lot of viewers (and we haven't seen the follow up to those events yet). The fandom can be bad at times.

Misinformation: The early volumes being bad, the racism plot line, and the animation (not the same as “budget and polish”) are not as bad as you may have heard from YouTube.

Suggested viewing order

Red Trailer, White Trailer, Black Trailer, Yellow Trailer

Volume 1

Volume 2

Volume 3

Volume 4 Character Short

Volume 4

Volume 5 Weiss Character Short, Volume 5 Blake Character Short, Volume 5 Yang Character Short

Volume 5

Volume 6 Adam Character Short

Volume 6

Volume 7

Volume 8

(I did my best to make this spoiler-free. When there are spoilers, they’re worded ambiguously enough that someone new to the show would never guess what’s going to happen just by reading this.)

What to expect

The world of Remnant is filled with monsters called the creatures of Grimm. Warriors called Huntsmen and Huntresses defend humanity. Ruby, Weiss, Blake, and Yang go to school to become the next generation of heroes. Together they make Team RWBY (pronounced, “Ruby”)! Joining them is team JNPR (“Juniper”), made up of Jaune, Nora, Pyrrha, and Ren. But evils even more dangerous than the Grimm are ready to make their move, and school quickly becomes an afterthought…

(I mention these next two topics specifically bc they can immediately turn someone away based on bad expectations.) There is a fantasy school setting, but RWBY is not a show about school. School topics are not a dominant idea: it seems to resemble a setting like Harry Potter, but the actual focus of the show rarely touches on things like classes or homework or tests, and we quickly move on. There is romance and it has a role in the plot, but RWBY is not a romance show. On the scale of romance in FMAB to She-Ra, RWBY falls somewhere in the middle.

What is RWBY about, then? RWBY is like an epic fantasy or high fantasy, despite first appearances. Perhaps not every genre convention is followed, but at its core, RWBY is about an epic struggle of good and evil.

RWBY contains themes such as found family, the struggle to remain hopeful, the younger generation growing up, villain redemption, and systemic evils.

Strengths of the show

The characters are unique and memorable. One of the cool things is that they all draw inspiration from a real life fairy tale, myth, or something else. They designs are all top notch. One character who died with extremely little screen time even got so much fandom love, they included the character in a mid-hiatus short later. The characters have unique weapons, too; in the world of Remnant, a weapon is an extension of ones’ soul, and they reflect the variety of their owners. They’re also just plain cool; Monty was famous for following the “Rule of Cool.” And their individual stories are all compelling and interesting.

The show is smart. As a fandom, we generally pick up on the narrative hints the creators are dropping. And our predictions usually come true, but not in a way that makes the show predictable and boring. We very rarely guess exactly what will happen, but we have some similar idea of it. It’s just excellent foreshadowing.

RWBY also likes to play with tropes, as an extension of this. Often it will challenge them, or subvert expectations. In other cases, RWBY uses tropes to avoid showing us what we already know will happen. This occurs in both characters and plot. For example…

SLIGHT SPOILERS FOR VOLUME ONE FOR THE REST OF THIS PARAGRAPH: Jaune’s entire character arc is about trying to be the anime protagonist, and learning that he doesn’t have to do things alone, and it’s ok to be a support main. The show sets up the narrative in a way that looks like, oh of course the direction it will go is him becoming the main character, but then it destroys toxic masculinity instead.

Our characters are smart, too. Plot-induced stupidity generally doesn’t happen. (A few big mistakes or errors in this regard aren’t actually the fault of the narrative, either, but animation and miscommunication and failure to execute. And those aren’t common.) It goes beyond just “not being dumb,” however. The villains’ plans are incredibly clever, and our heroes sometimes even guess at the usual “plot twists.”

The cinematography is just incredible. There are numerous freeze frames with extreme attention to detail that reveal character motivations or arcs or foreshadowing, there are many effective cuts and moving parts, there are soooo many parallels and callbacks, and visual cues such as lighting and color all are used appropriately to convey emotion and assist the narrative. It is one of the biggest overlooked strengths of the show, imo, simply because a lot of people in the fandom don’t notice these things as much for whatever reason, or else don’t give as much praise about them.

The animation is extremely good as well. Budget issues and technology issues aside (which means a lack of polish), the actual animation? The fight choreography, and all the other parts of animation that aren’t just “expensive CGI” are all wonderful. You can have very shiny, polished turds after all, and RWBY is like the opposite: not very polished, especially early on, but very well animated. All the trailers, volume 1 episode 8, the volume 1 finale, the volume 2 penultimate episode, and basically everything else hold up extremely well even today. If anything, the worst fight animation was in volumes 4 and 5 because of Maya growing pains, and those are an example of being more polished, but not necessarily better animated. Animation of faces has always been good, animation of characters has always felt lively. Aside from a few small actual hiccups (that one person running across rooftops for instance), it’s well done.

There are LGBTQ+ characters. The treatment of one of the recent trans characters, in volume 8, was nothing short of amazing. They worked with a VA who was trans. The moment of canon confirmation was important to the character for backstory, because of course that affects the character’s life, but not the only important thing about the character. The representation is not in-your-face or pandering. And there is a split of representation among the main cast and the minor characters, with promises of more to come (notably they’ve said they’re working on more mlm for future volumes, too).

RWBY is not afraid to tackle hard topics. It deals with things like mental illness, systematic racism, and cycles of abuse. It’s not because the show is trying to earn “gritty and dark” points, it’s because those are some of the topics that real people have to struggle with as well. And the show handles most or all of them very well, in a way that shows respect and an honest attempt to depict these things as best they can. (NOTE ABOUT VOLUME 8: THERE IS A VERY DIFFUCLT CONVERSATION CURRENTLY HAPPENING. I am on the side of, let’s wait and see what happens next because the story isn’t over, so we haven’t really seen the fall out. But I understand why this paragraph feels really difficult to agree with if you've seen the volume 8 finale. I trust the track record of the rest of the show, personally.)

As an example, the show has a theme that villains are rarely evil just because. A lot of villains choose to do bad things because they were hurt in some way. Some lived in poverty; some were hurt by racism; many of them are victims of abuse. But the show doesn’t make excuses for them. It’s possible to be both sympathetic and still choose evil over and over again (that’s called tragic). The ones who eventually do try to do good again are not always forgiven, either.

The music is amazing. I can probably count on my hands the number of times I’ve heard someone say otherwise, which is astonishing when you consider this fandom.

It’s also free on RT’s website. (A paid, “FIRST” subscription removes ads and lets you see new episodes one week early, but they all eventually release for free.)

Weaknesses of the show

Early volumes’ growing pains exist, much like most or all other shows. (Even some of the greatest were not immune to this, like ATLA.) In this case, however, it’s a little bit rougher. A large reason why is that this was kind of the first big thing from RT to ever come out. If you remember back almost a decade ago, their only other big thing at the time was RvB, which was machinima. They pretty much started from scratch with everything, from assets to VAs to animation to writing. Imagine if a random twitch streamer, like Ninja (idk who’s popular these days) said one day, “OK let me just direct something that’s intended to be the next great movie series of all time, like Star Wars, with a $4 bill and an iPhone camera.” Then went out and actually made something. Of course it would be rough…but then it turns out the movie is actually really good. And then you get to watch over the next several years as everything gets better and better until it’s honest-to-god comparable to the MCU. That’s kind of what happened with RWBY.

One specific growing pain was the volume 2 finale. Pretty much everything else up until that point, I love about the show. But the finale just fails to deliver on the build up of tension from other episodes. Some of it is because of later plot developments that we didn’t know at the time; some of it is because of just not great writing; some of it is because of just not great animation; and yes, some of it is budget. Regardless, it’s a low point for the show.

Speaking of, the budget for the early volumes is super small. The infamous volume one shadow people, the infamous person jumping across the rooftops in volume two, and just production quality isn’t high compared to a major release from some established studio. These are real weaknesses of the show that for some people, make it unwatchable, and if that’s you, that’s ok.

One last weakness of the show, the screen time per episode, especially early on, is NOT a full 20 minutes like you may expect of an anime (or anime-inspired-western-media, for those of you who will die on the “RWBY is not an anime” hill). This is a trend that has stuck with the show, a shorter run time per episode, for generally the entire lifetime. On one hand, it means it’s a little less daunting to catch up or rewatch than the number of episodes might imply. On the other, early on, some episodes have a little weird pacing. It also means the writing had to adjust for this, so while RWBY got really good at telling a story within a shorter amount of time, there’s also challenges with that too. Perhaps one of the notable ones is the pacing, with slower moments sometimes feeling like it takes up too much screen time, or not enough. Volume 4 was a particular struggle for the crew, both because they switched animation engines and also for the story.

Common complaints that I don’t agree with

I don’t agree that the early volumes were actually bad overall. Growing pains, yes, but not bad. I attribute that complaint to overly focusing on one character’s storyline, back when it wasn’t clear there was so much more to come and before people realized the show would challenge the tropes instead of falling into them. It’s pretty much just volume 1 when people say this anyway, most of them I’ve heard admit that volume 2 was a lot better (except the finale) and almost everyone loves volume 3. And looking back on it, I do think volume 1 holds up.

Tying into this, the racism plot line is another common complaint. I don’t think it’s actually executed quite that badly. I think it makes sense for there to be regional differences in the amount of racism we see, it just so happened that we only saw a very small and isolated environment, Beacon, for much of the early volumes. (Incidentally, that’s actually similar the environment I myself grew up in.) It’s not perfect, though. But there’s no doubt that the later volumes do a better job portraying this. Again, I attribute it mostly to people not knowing how long the show would run for at the time, so of course if that’s all we saw, it would’ve been bad. But it’s not. I have a lot of respect for Miles and Kerry for even attempting to handle the racism topic in the first place. And for the faults that DO exist in this plot line, I credit them for learning and growing past that too, and doing better in later volumes.

The animation is not bad. I’ve already touched on that earlier, but people confuse “budget and polish” with “animation.” Give me RWBY any day over Michael Bay’s Transformers: no matter how much polish those robots have, they’re still a confusing mess to try and follow. And the polish isn’t even an issue once we get past the growing pains of Maya and get a bigger budget, because wow does this show look good now.

Between these three complaints I hear about often, I think those are the biggest ones. And they’re all generally done in bad faith, based not on just those but on other more provocative statements people also make with them. That’s part of my issue with the fandom, specifically the vocal but small parts of the fandom, because they’re just repeating these things from early days that aren’t true. But YouTubers gotta get those rage and hate clicks somehow, right? Unfortunately it discredits the show a lot and influences other people’s opinions into not giving it a fair chance, because it’s become a narrative of “RWBY IS BAD” when they all won’t shut up about it. So yeah, fandom can be bad, join at your own discretion. (Of course, all fandoms have annoying parts, and my interactions with the fandom have been good overall, otherwise.)

Onto other complaints, some say the cast is bloated. I don’t agree, but I don’t think this one is in bad faith. I think we get the important characters as much screen time as we can, and the minor characters don’t actually detract from that; one of the differences between good minor characters and bad ones, is that bad ones take up too much time. RWBY has a ton of characters but many of the minor ones don’t actually take up too much time. So it appears bloated, but actually I don’t think it is.

Finally, a small word on the no-no topics. Adam, and Monty. Adam is like the champion of the Monty topic. Which essentially boils down to “Miles and Kerry are ruining Monty’s vision for the show.” Toxic fandom is truly awful and I have no respect for anyone who says anything like that. Shame on all of you. This isn’t really anything negative about the show, but the fandom, and tbf all fandoms have toxic parts. But toxic fandom can be a real and valid reason to not watch a show. Thankfully they seem fewer in number these days, but I think they’ve evolved into hiding behind other characters or topics, so you know. Beware. Again, it's not too hard to avoid them or block them, and my interactions otherwise with most fans have been good.

#rwby

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periminkle · 4 years

Text

Orphic | 04

After moving into your own place, it seems life is finally going your way; the path to independence leading you to a quaint suburban town where even the grass seems to grow a little greener. Although a shocking encounter leads you to believe that perhaps appearances can be quite deceiving.

pairing: hybrid!jk x reader (first person)

genre: hybrid au, angst, fluff

word count: 7.6k

rating: PG-15

warnings: swearing, descriptions of blood and cleaning wounds, mentions of cannibalism (o.o)

author’s note: mMMm setting deadlines is effective but exhausting, so the pacing of this might be a bit weird? also im def not late bc it’s still sunday in some timezones so ;))

→ previous | next

I stared intently at the grungy nick in the otherwise spotless wall, mind racing a mile a minute.

The better half of the last hour had been spent pacing back and forth, gaze unmoving from the unconscious man in fear of missing the twitch of a finger or the flutter of an eyelash. His complete stillness persuaded me to check on his pulse frequently, glad to feel the faint, yet steady, beat beneath layers of smooth skin.

When I received a second call from my cranky saviour to inform me that he was nearly here, I forcefully sat myself down and practiced that infamous square breathing that every zen yogi swore by. By the persistent bouncing of my knee, it was evident that the yogis had failed me.

Rain was pounding down in thick sheets onto the pavement outside and at this point I was convinced the world had it out for me, using every trick in the book to further complicate this surely doomed rescue mission. Nonetheless, I optimistically hoped that the incoming storm would soon subside.

My unfortunate lips dealt with the brunt of my merciless canines, rendering the skin raw by the time a distinctive series of raps against the sturdy door caught my attention. It was the very same pattern in which I’d regularly knock on the door to the cleaning storage, craving the company of someone other than the three musketeers I’d gotten to know better than my own blood.

Although I ordinarily would be enthusiastically welcomed and greeted with nothing less than a wide, heart-shaped grin, the circumstances now were undoubtedly exceptional. Thus, the crinkle between his brows and the disgruntled glare fixed on my sheepish smile were to be expected.

Needless to say, Hoseok was not impressed.

“What the hell?” the typically friendly janitor barked out, huffing out his frustration at having his slumber disturbed. “You do know that it’s almost two in the morning right? How did you even get in here? Why couldn’t this wait for tomorrow?”

His hair stuck up in a multitude of different directions, evidently having rolled out of bed, slipped on a jacket and came to my rescue. The wrinkled, blue horse character on his pajama set eased some of my nerves at the familiarity of its nose, in the shape of Hoseok’s smile that was, understandably, nowhere to be found with the current circumstances.

I gripped the distressed male by his lithe shoulders, imploring him to slow down. “I’m not coming in tomorrow. Listen, this is gonna sound absurd but—”

His eyes drifted past my smaller form and I firmly shook at his torso to prevent him from spotting the other man. “Hey! Eyes down here.” A hint of curiosity bled through his agitated exterior when he focused on my stern exterior once more. “You can’t freak out, okay?”

Hoseok shrugged his approval, murmuring, “Yeah, I get it, directly disobeying the head researchers is pretty satisfying and all, but did you really have to drag me into this? Especially when you know I start early on Saturdays?”

At the reminder of his strict schedule, I withered marginally as I originally hadn’t intended to involve him at all. A shameful appreciation began to eat away at my conscience, grateful for his presence in spite of my outrageous request. I wouldn’t know what to do if Hoseok hadn’t come through and in my eyes, he remained an angel who was too good to be true.

“I’m sorry, I promise this is really important.” I brought my arms back to my sides, glancing down at my feet in order to organize my swirling thoughts. “I wouldn’t call you if it wasn’t an emergency.”

What I didn’t notice while lost in my reverie was Hoseok’s rebellious stare, wandering over the injured man’s form. “What the fuck?” He gently shoved me aside, stumbling deeper into the laboratory. When he was planted by the stranger’s table, he repeated, “What the actual fuck?”

My head tipped back in exasperation, disappointed that not even my last minute backup strategy was going according to plan. “Hobi, please.”

I could practically envision the gears whirring in his head, a natural reaction considering the mutant in front of him. When he finally craned his neck back to me, he mumbled with wide eyes, “Say sike right now.”

“Stop talking for two seconds.” I groaned, marching up to position myself between the janitor and the table in an attempt to calm him down. Immediately upon noticing his trembling digits, I reached out to clasp them within my own quivering hands. “Listen, this experiment they’re conducting? From what I know, it’s all some screwed up excuse to inject animalistic characteristics of their choosing into humans. And their track records point to a lot of predator species.”

“Predators? Wha—why would they even want to create a predator-human hybrid?” Hoseok took a tiny step back and out of the fear that he would flee, I fiercely clamped down onto our conjoined limbs.

“I don’t know yet,” I faltered. “But, honestly, I couldn’t care less because of how unethical they are in their approach to this project.” At his puzzled expression I somberly gestured to the unmoving lump in the corner, willing myself to postpone any tears for a safer location.

Hoseok must have connected the dots at the midnight black shade of fur peeking out underneath the fabric matching the colour of the hybrid’s ears and tail, as his stare hardened and his breathing began to even out from the rapid pace it was at before. “I’ll need more details later on, but let’s get him out of here first.”

At his command, I retracted from Hoseok's hold, scoping out the rather barren area for something other than the masses of files and papers strewn about. “You think we can carry him together?”

Simply comparing the difference in size between the stranger and Hoseok, there was no doubt the copious, hulking mass of muscle outweighed my friend’s slimmer figure. Our combined strength would have to somehow prove formidable against his bulky body.

Hoseok’s grimace spoke volumes about his faith in that idea, although there wasn’t much of a choice considering the alarming time crunch and our limited accessibility to other parts of the laboratory. Due to my blind confidence in the ostensibly foolproof scheme I constructed, the only cameras shifted were directly located in the path from the front entrance to the changing room to the upstairs lab.

Oh, how I was regretting that naivety now.

Using an abandoned stretch of fabric that had been stuffed into one of the drawers I rummaged through earlier, I covered his immobile body with the thin cover to provide some decency and act as a layer of defence against the torrents outside.

While Hoseok stood directly behind his head, leaning forward to loop his arms underneath the hybrid’s triceps and around his chest, I grabbed each of his ankles, cradling them to my abdomen. Even with our best efforts to avoid any of his wounds, there was no way to avert the countless scratches and bruises that littered every inch of visible skin. We counted on the sanguine belief that he wasn’t conscious enough to feel any of it, reluctant to use any tranquilizers when we weren't aware of how much juice they’d already injected him with.

“On the count of three?” Hoseok asked.

With a nod, I tightened my hold and widened my stance. “One, two,” after taking a generous inhale, I heaved, “three!”

The two of us managed to maneuver the stranger down the length of the dingy hall before we were forced to gently place him onto the ground, desperate to grant our aching muscles the break they demanded. Currently, construction was being done on the elevator, which meant that the flight of stairs was the next obstacle to be tackled.

I lost the brief, but fierce, battle of rock-paper-scissors and endured the frightening prospect of marching down the stairs backwards—in the dark. All because Hoseok was unwilling to sacrifice the slightest bit of his comfort for the both of us to step sideways.

It was safe to say the stairs themselves took ten minutes to clear.

On the first floor, we were able to cross over to the main entrance in a breeze thanks to the spacious nature of the lobby. After scurrying to Hoseok’s car and laying the hybrid in the back seat, I returned to the lab to dutifully lock up the front door and jogged back to the vehicle.

Hoseok sent me a befuddled brow lift from the front seat when instead of the passenger’s side, I hesitantly stood a stride away from the driver’s door. “He’s fine, hurry up already so we can get out of here.” He motioned to the space beside him with the flick of his chin, his bed head dancing along with the movement. “It wouldn’t look too great if anyone caught us right now, especially with the man-cat knocked out cold in the back. Plus, the lab just radiates spooky vibes at night, look at my goosebumps!”

“Okay, okay, give me a second,” I grunted, opening the door to the back seat as I bowed inside to avoid a painful meeting with the roof of the vehicle. While gripping the back of the stranger’s skull with one hand and his upper back with the other, I lifted his torso and slipped inside. Tenderly, I placed his head on my lap.

“What are you doing?” Hoseok stared at me through the mirror, evidently unnerved by my proximity to the man. “He could literally wake up at any minute and there goes your throat!”

“Or he could get juggled around from your shitty driving and open his injuries again,” I countered, “which I think is a lot more likely, no?”

He scoffed, taking full offence to my jest. “Never mind. I hope he throws you out the damn window for calling my driving anything less than spectacular.”

The rush of excess blood coursing through my veins as a result of my overactive heart pounded in my head, nearly loud enough to block out the boisterous revving of the engine echoing throughout the empty lot. Tires squeaked against the pavement, jolting the hunk of metal into action as we sped away.

“Where were you thinking of leaving him?” he asked, taking a breath before mumbling, “that is, if you thought about this at all.”

“Hobi!” My jaw dropped dramatically at his not so subtle jab, shaking my head as I commented, “You’ve been hanging around Yoongi too much lately. I mean, all this sass couldn’t have come from nowhere.”

He slowed down behind the only other car in sight, flicking on his signal to turn. “Don’t change the subject.”

“I’m not, I was just commenting on your drastic change in behaviour,” I rebutted, crossing my arms across my chest at his determination to aggravate me tonight. “For your information, I actually planned this out for weeks; who do you think got the key card to the upstairs lab, the keys to the building itself, moved all the cameras—

Despite the leather seat between us, I knew he was sporting a sly smirk, for his conceit was bleeding through his supercilious tone. “And who begged me for help halfway through this ingenious plan?”

My jaw clenched shut, astounded at his cheeky retorts. At first, I was unsure of how the relationship between the jovial custodian and the chilly facade that Yoongi donned among strangers would progress, but judging by the sheer number of occasions in which I’d walked into a room with the two chatting away—gummy smiles all around, it seemed to be advancing better than expected.

“Whatever, you came anyway.” I sank back into my seat, careful not to disturb the comatose man peacefully resting on my thighs. Hopefully he was narcotized enough to remain oblivious to the various disturbances around him and would only rouse when the sun made an appearance.

Hoseok blithely sneered, pressing harder on the pedal as he spun the steering wheel to the right. “Yeah, well it’s kind of hard not to when you claim that Hyunho’s going to sue your ass for thousands of dollars.”

“And was I wrong?” I recalled our earlier conversation, where I hadn’t yet mustered up the courage, much less the patience, to confess to the details of my crimes. In a panicked state, I simply presented the consequences which would follow Hoseok’s absence—Hyunho’s wrath.

“No, now you’re just gonna get your ass handed to you by Namjoon and Yoongi,” he countered. “But I guess you’ll save some money while you’re at it.”

Merely the thought of their reactions to my late night escapade made me want to shrivel up in a ball. “Who said I’m going to tell them?”

“You’re not telling them?” The car slowed as he gradually came to a graceful stop behind a red light, turning his torso to face me with the help of his hand on the central console. “You know better than to release the man-cat, he’ll just get caught again.”

Rolling my eyes like a petulant child being scolded, I muttered, “I’m not releasing him.”

“But you can’t deal with him on your own either!” he snapped, the lack of sleep shortening his tolerance. After a pause to regain his senses, Hoseok rapidly shook his head and twisted back to focus on the empty roads ahead.

"Listen," I gritted out between my teeth, my own temper flaring. “I think you’re forgetting that I was well aware of the fact that I would be housing some kind of animal for a while, just didn’t know he would be this big.”

“Or this dangerous? This costly?” His firm grip on the wheel tightened, knuckles turning white as his emotions boiled over. "You’re not prepared to deal with him, I'll just take him back to my place."

A puff of air escaped my throat at his ridiculous solution, stating, "You live with your sister. There's no way she won't find out."

"Like you're any better off," he quipped, staring me down through the rearview mirror. "You live alone. If he were to do anything to you, we’d be none the wiser about it."

"Well, we can't risk anyone discovering his existence. There's no other way.” By watching the stranger’s chest rise and fall with each elongated breath, I was able to simultaneously avoid Hoseok’s prying eyes and collect my own thoughts.

While impatiently waiting for his arrival back at the lab, my mind had trudged through copious possibilities, overwhelmed with the pressure to choose the right one. Eventually, I came to the disconcerting conclusion that, be that as it may, the most secure option remained to bring him back to my place.

I reassured, "Don’t worry, I cleared out my bedroom so that there’s nothing in there that could potentially be used as a weapon. We'll secure him down, lock the door, and I'll camp out in the living room."

"Y/N, we don't have any clue what this guy is capable of,” Hoseok stressed, worry colouring his voice as he sharply gesticulated with his free hand. “Hell, look at him! He has cat ears, Y/N, and do not get me started on his tail.”

I stole a glance at the accused appendage in bewilderment, unsure of why that aspect was at the forefront of Hoseok’s concerns regarding the mutant boy. “What’s wrong with his tail?”

“My point is,” he accentuates, “we have no idea what we’re dealing with here. What if he has some kind of monstrous super strength and his diet consists of human flesh? He could probably rip right through any restraints and bam! That'll be the end of you."

I held my tongue at ridiculing his absurd speculations when some sort of man-cat hybrid was currently strewn across the back seat of Hoseok’s run-down Corolla; a dim display exposing the current, ungodly hour of the early morning.

“Do you have any better ideas?" Although my question was met with radio silence, we steadily continued on the potholed path headed away from my house. I spoke up again, "Where are you taking us?"

"We're going to Namjoon's place, and we're gonna think of a better alternative all together."

"Hoseok," I seethed, fists clenching next to my thigh. "He'll make us take him back. We're already too far in to go back now."

The car jerked violently due to the bumpy road and being suddenly reminded of the wounded boy, I shot out to grab at his thin waist in order to nail him to the seat. Despite my best efforts, crimson liquid soaked through the thin blanket and I cursed under my breath.

"I can't leave you there alone with him!"

"Please, we'll be careful." A beat passed as I greedily inhaled the fresh air flowing in through my open window, gathering ideas to negotiate. "I'll stay awake the whole time and I'll text you every hour."

Regardless of my pleas, the car kept at its incessant pace to Namjoon's apartment. Sweat began to accumulate at my temples at the unsure fate of what censure awaited me. To distract my nerves, I gripped the fabric that covered the man’s body, tugging it over his shoulders to rest just below his chin while pressing a bunch into his side in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

Past the low hum of the vehicle, a gentle utterance met my ears. I lifted my head to inquire whether the sound was merely a figment of my fatigued imagination when Hoseok repeated, "Every half hour."

My eyes widened, darting to examine his stoic expression from the rearview mirror. "Yes! Yes, yes of course. I can even do every ten minutes if that’s what you want." I shrugged my shoulders, pointing out, "I'll be up all night anyway."

"No, I'm good. Unlike some of us, I don't deserve to be punished for my crimes and would like to salvage the little sleep I can get," he declared as he performed a U-turn at a wide intersection.

My grin expanded exponentially at the change in direction. "Suit yourself."

I allowed my thoughts to clear, tracing a clear droplet on the window as it raced to engulf another, merging into one, larger globule that ran down the smooth expanse until it was out of sight. Unknowingly, I mindlessly carded my fingers through the stranger’s dampened strands; more so for my own comfort than for anyone else.

Before I knew it, we’d arrived at my quaint cottage and with the addition of another individual residing under its roof, the place seemed tinier than ever. Hoseok and I shuttled him over to my bedroom as gracefully as we possibly could, aiming to avoid whacking into any obstacles along the way.

Other than his lengthy legs knocking into two door frames, we were clear.

The second his back met the rigid mattress, we collectively released a weighty exhalation from the excessive exertion that strained both our physical and mental states. Although the chances of the stranger waking up now were low, seeing as he was out like a light throughout the whole journey, I hurried to collect the sturdy ropes that I purchased in advance.

“Ooh, you’re into some kinky shit, huh Y/N?” Hoseok quipped, taking the material from my hands.

My eyes rolled back at his stupid antics, glaring at the pleased crinkles forming next to his drooping eyes. “Ha ha, very funny. Now help me tie him up, so I can kick you out of my house.”

“And what’re you gonna do to him when I leave?”

Snatching the rope that he stole from me, I shoved Hoseok to the side by pressing against his firm bicep—which definitely carried more than his fair share of the hybrid on the way here—and grumbled, “Guess If you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself.”

Hoseok burst into a short fit of contagious laughter, invoking a couple quiet giggles that I was unsuccessful in fighting down. As he raised the stranger’s arms to the bed frame, I looped the braided, nylon material snug around each of his wrists. Along the way I checked to ensure that the restraints weren’t too tight before moving onto his ankles to repeat the process. Luckily enough, his height stretched the entire length of my minuscule bed with his feet dangling off the ledge.

“Tell me you brought more tranquilizers in case?” Hoseok asked immediately upon securing the last knot. Throughout a tedious explanation on how foolishly lax I was behaving with the hybrid, he went back to inspect my handiwork, tugging the ends of the cords closer together into a grip that nearly cut off the hybrid’s blood flow.

Over his nagging, I sneaked a victorious grin as I displayed the syringes I’d nabbed from the lab. He spent a few more minutes fiddling with various safety measures consisting of the pepper spray he stealthily retrieved from my purse, the bedroom door’s lock and an air horn that he remarkably pulled out of his coat’s pocket. Although it was questionable if the blaring sound would awaken even my closest neighbours due to the sheer distance between our houses, I didn’t dare attempt after imagining old Sangmin marching over here on his rickety cane to bark my ears off.

Refusing to bother expending effort on pondering over the rationale behind Hoseok’s little magic trick, I blithely shooed him out before any more ridiculous objects could be plucked out of his jacket.

The last straw was his finger approaching the sensitive button on said air horn. Unwilling to face the consequences of his brash actions, I slammed the front door closed behind Hoseok, the space suddenly void of his rowdy antics. I wearily blinked the drowsiness out of my eyes, the stillness and tranquility of the early hours slowed my heart rate from the fast paced, action packed night.

My sock-clad feed padded their way back to the bedroom, snatching my phone out of my black hoodie to fiddle around with an app that I discovered upon moving out. In order to relay my continued existence to my family, I scheduled texts to be sent every week, which would prove useful at this time as well. Knowing my own forgetful nature, one update to Hoseok would slip my mind, and either four, furious men would burst through every available entrance or I would have the whole police force upon my front steps in minutes.

To prevent such a disastrous event from taking place, I tampered around with the settings and added the fretting male to the list.

I halted in my tracks when faced with the mundane sight of the four walls where I spent most of my sleeping hours, not a hair out of place other than the addition of the injured hybrid on my dirtied bed. The crimson stains jolted me into action, retrieving my brand new first-aid kit and finding it hilariously ironic that the dressings were going to be used on the very same criminal that broke in to steal such supplies.

In order to fight off any cold that could have possibly slithered its way past the weak barrier draped over his body, I peeled the flimsy, sodden cover off and replaced it with a puffy comforter. Traversing through the storm that continued to rage outside definitely put a strain on his already weakened state, and his pale countenance wasn't very reassuring.

I slid the blanket down to access the sullied wound at his rib cage and grabbed a couple pads of gauze to firmly press onto the area. Thankfully, some blood had already begun to coagulate around the edges, so I didn’t have to wait too long for the trickling stream to cease. With a clean towel, I wiped the surrounding skin to get a better look at what I was dealing with, grimacing at the bruises forming galaxies across the jagged edges of ripped skin.

He was in worse shape than either Hoseok or I could have predicted. At this realization, the fleeting worry that he might succumb to the severity of his wounds grew, festering a nasty doubt in my mind.

Deciding whether to clean the laceration commenced another strife within the whirlwind of emotions inside my head, but I poured a few drops of antiseptic onto a cotton ball anyway, fearful of infection. As I tried my best to carefully dab the soaked material across his wounds, I peered up at his face to search for signs of consciousness.

My eyes involuntarily softened at the small cuts littered across his neck, travelling past his jaw and over the slopes of his hollowed cheeks to his forehead, which was partially hidden under his dark locks. When the cotton was thoroughly besmirched with a blend of bright crimson and a muddy brown, I drenched another and advanced up to other regions after the more serious lesions were taken care of.

A closer look at his sinewy torso allowed me to examine the scars scattered all around, mostly clustered around his upper arms. Absentmindedly, I wondered whether their appearances were linked to the cruel methods of the laboratory. How had he gotten within their clutches in the first place? For how long was he suffering under the justification of being an experiment?

What were they trying to accomplish with him?

My mind raced with all the different possibilities of what could have brought the hybrid into this situation in the first place, and before I knew it, I was pushing back the disheveled strands on his forehead to clean the last of his cuts. There were definitely more on his dorsal side, but I wasn’t willing to undo his restraints and flip his hefty weight over on my own. I would either wait until he woke up or ask Hoseok to stop by again after his shift.

In my current position, I was close enough to feel his warm breath fanning across my skin, observe the tiny brown mole under his lip and how utterly breathtaking this man was underneath the cuts that marred his skin. He was undoubtedly attractive at first glance, although I wasn’t able to appreciate his masculine features while under the stress of saving him.

Once every laceration in my reach had been disinfected to the best of my limited abilities, I swiftly bandaged his side again and stuck Spider-man themed band aids onto the smaller cuts in memory of the Hello Kitty ones that decorated his body earlier. I settled back on the chair, admiring my handiwork and fighting back the looming threat of dormancy that approached with every elongated blink. My head leaned back as I crossed my arms, thinking that a little snooze never hurt anyone.

I was blind to the cocoa orbs drinking in the darkness.

The bright light streaming in through the numerous cracks between my blinds prodded my eyelids apart, pupils struggling to adjust past the groggy haze of an unexpected slumber. Rather than revelling in the bountiful energy supplied by a restorative nap, an obnoxious cramp in my neck made its presence known alongside the bleak, obstinate tingle of dormancy that lingered within every tightened tendon, pulsating throughout my entire body.

Although the pain gradually ebbed away after I rolled my head around in wide semicircles, I knew from experience that the ache of sleeping in an uncomfortable position would linger.

Gold streaks were painted on the hardwood floor as a result of the sun’s harsh rays, a stark contrast to the dusk of a few hours ago. As I began to fuzzily recollect the memories from yesterday, I spotted the growing number of discrepancies between the room I’d seen before I closed my eyes and now, from the open door to the ruffled sheets, devoid of any sign of life.

Fortunately, I seemed to be in the same position, seated on the tough chair that I snoozed off in a few hours ago. However, I found it odd that it was particularly difficult to do much else than squirm around, and that was when I realized the problem lied in the nylon material tied around my wrists and ankles, binding me to the furniture.

A cold dread washed over me, much like a freezing bucket of ice being poured over my head. The hybrid escaped.

Well, at least he didn’t exact his fallacious revenge on my sleeping form.

“Awake?”

I squeaked at the whiplash that followed the movement of my head twisting a second too quickly, intent on identifying the furtive speaker. My eyes widened exponentially at locating the muscular hybrid, black ears twitching at my cry and tail swishing in curiosity. Being clad in only boxers, I shifted my gaze away out of instinct, a fiery blush overtaking my features despite having ogled the man’s ripped physique before.

It felt completely different when he was unconscious and my only intent was to treat his multitudinous wounds though.

He slowly blinked, clearly finding my astonishment puzzling with the bewilderment laced in his orbs. Waving a large palm in front of my face to get my attention on him, he calmly said, “No hurt.”

The tight rope that currently hindered my motion was definitely the same one that had been previously occupied with restraining the hybrid to the bed. Yet the very same male stood in front of me, free as a bird. “H-how did you get out?”

Instead of answering verbally, he extended his defined arms out to the side, imitating the position he was tied up in, then robustly swinging both limbs towards one another. So he broke through those thick, durable ropes with sheer strength and willpower. Comforting.

The tranquilizers laid scattered across the floor, much too far to even consider reaching them.

“Where’s your blanket?” I questioned, suppressing the tremor in my voice as I found it outrageous that my throat was still intact at this point. There was no guarantee that he wasn’t harbouring any motives to rid the world of my presence, but the fact that he wasn’t actively making any moves to rip my heart out was a good sign.

The mop of dark chestnut swayed along in the same direction that he tilted his head over to; a habit revealing an emotion that I couldn’t place on the stranger. “Warm. No like.”

His broken English revived a flurry of trepidation. I recalled the night of the break-in, the terror and hysteria that I’d buried away under the incorrect pretense that a burglar never hits the same house twice.

I didn’t know if that sentiment applied to kidnapping the criminal and using your place as his hideout, as well.

As I noisily gulped, I felt his stare dart to my esophagus and in a wild panic, my wide eyes met the doe-like curve of his own. The hybrid edged closer to my trembling form before treading past me, out of sight. I closed my eyes in preparation.

This is it. Goodbye world, it was pretty shit while it lasted.

I heard the rustling of fabric behind me and silently applauded the man for thinking of a quick and easy suffocation to reduce the amount of clean up afterwards.

His bare feet slapped against the floor, trekking over to my front again. When a couple seconds passed and none of my airways were blocked nor was there any piercing pain to be felt, I cautiously cracked an eye open to see the stranger standing there, the puffy blanket from before wrapped around his broad shoulders.

“Good now?” he inquired with a bunny-like smile.

My jaw dropped slightly as I nodded, attempting to formulate a sentence but coming up empty. The stark contrast between the brawn enveloping his body and his innocent features threw me in for a loop. This must have been part of his grand scheme to ruthlessly murder me—lulling me into a false sense of security before executing me on the spot.

Outwardly, the hybrid appeared to possess more human features than his animal counterpart, leading me to wonder which instincts ruled over the other. Was he more level-headed and rational or was he unable to suppress his bestial instincts? Did he get sudden, violent mood swings or go on occasional, bloodthirsty rampages?

The lack of knowledge I had regarding the man, who had somehow gained the upper hand through his brute strength, was worrying. A tinge of regret for not skimming through a few files on said hybrid before Hoseok’s arrival made me softly curse under my breath.

As I shifted in place, I was reminded of my own predicament. “So, uh, any chance you’ll let me go?”

With his broad grin still on full display, he made his refusal clear by shaking his head back and forth. It was worth a try. “Not fair. I tied, now you tied.”

His childish logic caught me off guard and a bark of laughter shook my stiff shoulders, marginally relaxing at the prospect that he might postpone the bloodshed for a later time. The mystery laid in how he could distinguish my harmless intentions from the head researchers’ diabolical ones. Maybe it was the lab coat?

I made a mental note to never wear my own lab coat in front of him.

A grumble snapped me out of my reverie. I observed the stranger’s startled features as he glanced down at his abdomen, then, unabashedly, back up to my face. Recalling his screams of horror back at the lab, the barbaric treatment he received there was indisputable and based on his raging stomach, I guessed that it had been a while since he’d eaten anything of substance.

Of all times, Hoseok’s ridiculous words of the hybrid’s diet consisting of human grade meat played back through my brain and jitters erupted over my limbs, wanting to please the man before he was picking his teeth with my freshly cleaned bones.

“Hungry?” I prodded, pushing other priorities to the side in favour of feeding the rumbling beast.

His dark orbs immediately lit up with pure, unadulterated glee. The hybrid gracefully tied the ends of the fabric around his neck like a cape and rounded closer to me with mirth written across every crease on his countenance.

Unsure if his giddiness was attributed to the assumption that I was offering up the meat lining my organs, I squirmed in protest, attempting to cause a ruckus in order to spur his excitement towards another source of protein in the fridge.

Not having much choice in the matter with my limited range of motion, I watched in worry as he scurried out of sight again. “Hey, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here and—”

Despite being prepared for his unpredictable nature, a yelp flew past my lips when I was effortlessly lifted into the air, chair and all. His forearms caged my thighs as he gripped the bottom of the seat, hot pants of air blowing onto the back of my neck from his position.

His elation was practically tangible as he flew past the open doorway and sped off through the foyer. He must have ventured deeper into the house while I was blissfully unaware, since his strides towards the kitchen were filled with nothing but confidence in every step.

Hastily, I spat out, “I’m not that delicious, trust me! My budget’s been pretty strict this month, so I’ve just been eating junk, and I don’t imagine that’ll taste very go—”

The force holding me upright loosened when we reached the fridge, permitting my feet to find the floor. “Dee-lee-shiz?” He tried to imitate, turning to point straight at me.

“No! No, no, not delicious.” I corrected, violently shaking my head.

His outstretched arm retracted to his side, staring like a hawk at my chin tipping towards the metal cooling box behind him, and I repeated, “Delicious.”

As he flung the door to the refrigerator open, nearly ripping it right off its hinges, he yelled, “Dee-lee-shiz!”

Utter fascination at the chilled temperature and the rather meager array of food etched onto his features, sending relief through my veins. I encouraged him to ravage the tenuous stock of food while simultaneously rejoicing at successfully having deterred him from eating me alive.

Packs of eggs, blueberries, condiments, and essentially anything within his reach was hauled out, forming a growing heap on the countertop. When a zucchini found its way into his grasp, he took one puzzled look before chomping down on one end. I wasn’t too sure how raw zucchini would taste when eaten as though it were a cucumber, but he seemed pleased enough to take another bite that resounded throughout the space with a loud crunch.

I reclined back into the stiff chair, content on observing the ravenous hybrid empty my fridge and taking an occasional nibble on snacks that piqued his interest. Although, his grab at the bundle of raw chicken was when I decided to voice my concerns. “Ah, that has to be cooked!” At another tilt of his head, I explained, “You could get sick if you don’t cook it.”

By his furrowed brows, I deduced the concept flew over his head, but he threw the package onto my lap anyway and peered down expectantly. “Cook.”

“You tied me up, remember? I need some mobility to cook.” I tugged at my subdued arms to demonstrate my current inaptitude.

He hummed in thought, enveloping his lower lip between his lengthy canines as he weighed the pros and cons of being able to consume the meat by setting me loose. Finally, after clearly expressing how torn he was between his hunger and his teasing, it seemed that he’d come to a conclusion when he latched onto my left forearm.

Just as I was about to jib that I was no longer on the menu, a searing pain ripped across my wrist. I hissed through my teeth with my fists clenched as I teared my tender arm out of his grip, protectively cradling the limb to my chest.

He flinched away from the sound, taking a step away from my defensive form. At the sight of my disgruntled frown, he withered into himself, chin to his chest while I examined my sore wrist, whimpering at the edges of the flaming red, torn skin. I was a second away from viciously reprimanding him for the bruise that was more than likely to form by tomorrow, but one look into his guilty, fearful eyes made me pause.

With his strength, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that he possessed the ability to do much worse, which didn’t seem to be his intent from all the fretting—ears tucked into the crown of his head and tail hanging low. As he seemed to be repenting without a chiding needed on my end, I redirected to a softer approach. “It’s fine, just be more gentle next time, okay?”

“Mm,” he complied weakly, his prior enthusiasm having substantially deflated. Before I could dismiss the topic and entice him with more food, he knelt down to my ankles, gripping the rope with both hands this time as he effortlessly tore the material apart, careful not to graze my legs in the process.

A shiver crawled down my spine at the display of power, mentally noting that there was probably enough strength in his fingers to flick my stunned form across the room; yet the man proved his duality by proceeding to grab one loose end of his makeshift cape and gently tie it around my unscathed wrist. “No run.”

Surprisingly enough, I hadn’t made it a break for it as soon as I was liberated. Although I sustained minimal injuries, he expressed his remorse and made no moves to consume my flesh, which was another good sign. As more time passed, he was revealing to be more and more of a passionate bunny stuck in a wrestler’s body.

After all, I hadn’t gone through all the trouble of kidnapping him just to sprint at the slightest sign of trouble. I confirmed, “No run.”

Some of his original ardour reappeared at my acknowledgement, along with a faint giggle that evoked a tiny smile on my own face. I figured that with his minimal experience revolving around homemade dishes, simply slapping on some salt and pepper to flavour the meat with a side of boiled vegetables would suffice. Thus, I took the package from my lap and got to work.

Cooking with another, rather useless, individual essentially attached at the hip was difficult, to say the least. In the beginning, the man fired question after question, curious about every ingredient and spice going into the dish, but after realizing that he lacked the correct vocabulary to obtain the information he sought, he became a silent observer.

Basically, he followed me around like a lapdog while munching on another zucchini to occupy his restless hands.

After pulling him around left and right, occasionally giving a soft tug on the blanket when he would unintentionally zone out, I finally threw all the components into a single pan, deciding to serve a simple stir-fry. With only the expanse of the puffy fabric between us, I was constantly elbowing the hybrid while mixing the ingredients together, which I considered a redeeming form of payback for his carelessness with my arm.

While the mouth-watering scent of lunch wafted around, he extended the wrist connected to mine, sidestepping over to the island to fish for a bag of baby carrots before coming to stand next to me by the stove. Spotting my stare, he flashed another blinding grin and I couldn’t help but imagine long, bunny ears extending off the top of his head, his slender tail replaced with a fluffier ball of fur at the back. That seemed to better suit his ardent personality.

The chicken gradually changed colour as the exterior of the vegetables softened, and I brought the meal along with the chair by the fridge over to my tiny two-person table, prompting him to take a seat in front of the steaming plate. I expected him to ravenously dig in and devour every crumb, yet he refused to move a muscle, staring out the glass doors to the backyard and into the forest instead.

“I hurt.” He stumbled over his words, somberly bringing his gaze to my cocked brow. “No mean to hurt.”

Thinking back to the scuffle that seemed eons away at this point, I flashed a reassuring smile his way, explaining, “I get it, you were injured. Um, I was kind of mad at first because you broke my door and everything,” I offhandedly gestured towards the broken contraption, “but I forgive you.”

“No.” He clenched his jaw, analyzing the surface of the table as if the words he was searching for were etched on the surface. “Now. Sorry now, too.” To drive his point home, he delicately grabbed the arm not wrapped in the blanket, streaks of red decorating my wrist like a tight bracelet.

I hummed my understanding. “Ah, I told you it’s fine already,” I reassured, patting his hand.

Content at my acceptance of his makeshift apology, he began to dig into the chicken. His nose twitched at the unfamiliar taste, but he made no complaints. Anything was better than nothing, in the end.

I let him enjoy his food for a bit before asking, “Did you have a name? Something like J3?”

His eyes went back to scanning the outdoors, the sound of his chomping coming to an abrupt halt when he spotted a sad lump on the porch.

“Bud?” he inquired, the light glimmering in his irises.

The nickname stumped me, as I had difficulty imagining Hyunho or Minzy affectionately calling their experiment ‘bud’. “What are you talking about? Is that your name?”

His finger poked out to the cylindrical pile of tuna outside, then back to himself, “Bud.”

Befuddled now more than ever, I tried to laugh it off and nodded my head towards the plate again, silently advising him to continue eating.

Unfortunately, he didn’t seem too keen on evading the topic, whimpering in frustration at either my lack of understanding or his incapability of properly communicating due to the language barrier. His unending appetite was going to be put on hold for this. As he stood up, the chair behind him screeched, and he clutched on to the blanket, pulling me towards the back door.

Refusing to allow history to repeat itself, I rushed ahead to slide the hairband off and pushed the door open, allowing him to slip through. I figured that when the man drifted off to sleep tonight, I could replace the rapidly decaying tuna in hopes that my kitty would visit again.

While I was lost in thought, he undid the knot connecting the two of us and sprinted into the forest.

His back disappeared within the thickets fencing the towering maple trees and I froze in place, my jaw going slack in an ugly mixture of bafflement and betrayal, believing that he had simply taken advantage of my hospitality then ran off. Although, all attempts at making sense of the hybrid’s actions were cut short when familiar noises of horrifying, crackling sounds met my ears, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end.

When the underbrush twitched, leaves fluttering from the movement of an animal hidden within their cover, a sinking feeling entered my chest. And that was the moment I met the vibrant, emerald eyes that had dug their own space within my heart.

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #jungkook au #jungkook hybrid au #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts imagine #this chap gave me an aneurysm and a half

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atinykidult · 4 years

Text

The Wind in His Ears — Choi San

[angst w/fluff] [2221 words] — A prompt taken overboard, wherein San loses his heart but finds it again. Disbandment!au, be warned. No tws except for loneliness (and reference of sex, I guess)

[prompt] — Travel!au, strangers to lovers, “That was a very bad idea. 0/10 would not recommend.”

[dedication] — If you like soft or sexy stuff please check out @sanflowerseeds‘s works! They’re phenomenal (and written by an also phenomenal person!) I’m so sorry this took so long! I love you, Nanda, and hope you’re doing well!

[a/n] — This may be my worst fic ever, bc it has gone through so many directional changes. But it’s been a WIP so long, I just wanted it posted haha If you have time, please leave me some notes on what went wrong/right! Thank you for reading!

When Choi San hits his mid-thirties and feels his joints crackle a few decibels too loudly, he knows his body won’t take much more. So when their second round of contract negotiations roll around, his decision has already been made for him.

But when Hongjoong delivers the official group stance, his heart still cracks.

And when they have their final performance, San’s the last one to cry.

Because his tears will last the longest.

The crack in his heart spreads into a veritable canyon in his world.

A scattering wind blows through that empty cavern, pulling Hongjoong to mentoring a new rookie group and Jongho to OST deals. But San gets to stand with Yeosang at his wedding; he grabs coffee with Wooyoung every other week, usually...

So San pretends he’s fine for six months.

After all… Mingi sends memes to the group chat all the time—

And Seonghwa makes sure to Facetime regularly—

San wanders the streets of Seoul, hands stuffed in his pockets, the loud wind in his ears for his only company. At home, whenever he stands up stiffly, there’s only him to laugh at his cracking joints. Well… he laughs at himself, to begin with. Then he doesn’t laugh.

One day, he’s wandering the streets again when he sees it. An ad for a travel agency.

There’s only wind in his ears as he considers it.

“A toast to San!” announces Hongjoong, voice forcibly cheerful. “Who’s going on a world tour!”

Eight glasses are lifted in the air; seven pairs of eyes look incredibly worried.

Someone wraps themselves around San as other voices chime in.

“San, fighting!”

“Let’s gooo!”

“World travel!” someone shouts in English.

San’s heart both heals and breaks again as he looks at his seven friends who dropped everything to wish him well.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he tells them wetly.

Maybe it’s Jongho’s knowing eyes that make him shed the first tear.

Maybe it’s how the others all know how much he’s hurting, and how utterly relieved San feels to be back with these seven other people.

No matter the reason, San cries at this moment, clinging to his former groupmates as they hug him goodbye. There’s promises to text, proclamations of staying up just for video chats. There’s also seven whispers of the same sentiment: I hope this can help you heal.

He meets you in a coffeeshop. Your coffeeshop, actually.

It’s his second visit, and for some reason, it’s one of his favorite places he’s found in his travels. Something about its atmosphere draws him in. The warmth. The way it has nooks where he can sit and people-watch. The way the food tastes nearly perfect every time. The way it’s so empty when he comes in for his breakfast.

The way it’s just a minute’s walk from his hotel.

Correction: It is his favorite establishment he’s found in his grand travel.

Truthfully...

The “grand travel” hasn’t been so grand. He’s jumped around the world a little, going wherever the wind blows, renting a room for however long the wind calms down. Leaving for the next city or town whenever it gets worse.

On good days, he can look around himself and feel his heart stir a little. Because he’s gotten to see some incredible things.

On bad days, he can feel the wind utterly drop. When it does, he’ll look around himself. He’ll wonder if he really wanted to see Canada that one time. Or if he just chose a country 12 hours different from Korea because maybe, just maybe, flipping his clock completely could flip his life around, too.

Today’s one of the better days, actually.

As he hands you his payment, you offer small talk.

Ask about his day.

He tells you he’s fine, that he could be much worse off, truly believing it. (But also believing he could be much better off, too.)

Something in your gaze seems to understand him.

“And how’s your day?” he offers, his pronunciation a little messy.

“It exists,” you reply.

A mirror of him, at heart.

He comes into your coffeeshop the next day and knows it’s just going to be a daily thing until he leaves this city.

That one booth in the back left corner… It has good seats.

As he settles down with the same order he had gotten the last two days, he catches your eye. Smiles with his lips.

And something about that one thing makes him realize.

He hasn’t truly had anything like this in a while. The same food, three days in a row. Someone who’s met his eyes, three days in a row.

It’s another good day.

The howling wind grows just a little quieter.

“Two orders of today’s special and an einspänner?” you ask as he moves to the counter.

His eyebrows furrow. “Oh?”

“You’ve been here three days straight, exact same order,” you smile, “first customer of the day.”

“Ah.” He takes a moment to gather his words, unsure if this was accusatory or just observation. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry. I can—”

“No! It’s, ah, it’s nice. You’re always very pleasant, to me.” He recalls that first encounter, how you had seemed to understand the weight of his few words. “Are you a tourist? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before this week.”

“You could say so.”

“Any plans for today?”

The wind pushing him around never made plans.

“Not really,” he admits.

“Taking it as you go?”

“You could say so.” He notices how you look at him with a measuring look. One that makes him feel seen, and he hasn’t felt that way for a very long time. But it isn’t an unwelcome feeling. “Do you have any recommendations? On what to do? Things you like?”

You smile bittersweetly. “I have some ideas.”

“Can you tell me a few?” The words come out of San’s mouth without thinking.

At that moment, the door opens with a whoosh, and another customer steps in.

“Tell... tell you what,” you say. “I have an employee coming in in half an hour. If you would like the company, I can give you those suggestions over a second cup of coffee?”

Meeting your eyes, something in him feels like hiding. But something else in him leaps at the offer. “I’m a slow eater. So yes.”

You smile again, a little wider.

His lips, too, twitch upwards of their own volition.

That day, San makes an itinerary for the first time on his trip—and, maybe, a friend.

After a long day of hiking, San collapses on his hotel room bed and feels a stirring of optimism in his chest. The weariness in his bones almost feels familiar. He had collapsed like this many times after concerts or performances.

He stares at the ceiling, consciously wondering for the first time on this trip, if he’s ready to face the wind.

His eyes land on his suitcase.

His hands move to unpack it.

And the wind in his ears, again, gets a little quieter.

As he walked into your coffeeshop the next day, he asks you to sit with him from the get-go.

You peer into his eyes, spotting equal measures of hope and uncertainty, and immediately drop your paperwork. “Of course.”

His conversation is nice; his personality is nicer. (Possibly his skin is nicest, but that’s irrelevant.)

Your conversations continue, and by the tenth day, you’re sharing the thoughts that sometimes scare you. From your worries about disappointing everyone to wondering if your degrees even mattered... you spill it all out. He does the same.

Which is scary, because you’ve only known him for ten days. Seven, really.

Based on the way he’s ducking his head right now, his story hanging in the air sadly, he must feel similarly.

(He hasn’t told anyone about his story, his sad state, since he left Korea. He doesn’t share every detail, but he says enough that both he and the wind in his ears feel very shaken.)

Forty minutes later, he stands to leave, and you hear some joints crack.

“Maybe the chiropractor?”

His smile in response is remorseful.

You stand, too, and feel your neck crack a little.

“Maybe we both can go?”

And the smile is a little less sad.

You have known San for two weeks now, and today, he enters the shop much more confidently than usual. With a shy smile (but genuine, you realize), he shows you pictures of a lake you had directed him to. He had caught it on a good day. As he lets you scroll through the pictures, you find that someone must have taken his picture for him.

You want to say something meaningful as you study the way his skin has grown so golden in these two weeks. The way his smile reaches his eyes.

“You look nice here,” you say simply.

That shy smile turns larger.

You don’t know if this is a bad habit, dropping everything to share breakfast with San every morning. But, what did it hurt anything? After you asked your employees to come in early to cover for you, they agreed too quickly.

Because they are amazing humans, you think.

And because they are ridiculous humans, they smile knowingly at each other as either you or him look at the other for a moment too long.

And, because you both are pathetic, San and you never notice.

By the third week, you wonder why you haven’t exchanged phone numbers.

Naturally, then, you laugh and casually give him your number after he admits getting lost yesterday.

“I know you’re not a damsel in distress or anything, but next time… just call me if you get lost.”

He doesn’t mean to look at you so intently after that, but he does.

You don’t look away.

Swallowing, he wonders if you can see the lingering sadness he feels, the wind still throwing him off balance sometimes. The weight of knowing how worried his hyungs are for him, the fear that he had done something to his body when he was younger, so it was all his fault somehow...

But as your gaze slips to his lips for just a moment, he also wonders if you are seeing what thousands of fans had once seen. Something worthy.

When your gaze moves back to his eyes, and you start talking about nonsense, he knows: You could see it all, and more, even.

San feels something stir in his chest, something warmer and kinder and more enticing than the thrall of dancing to thousands of cheers.

When he finally finds it in himself to say goodbye, he can’t help but ask. “Can I call you when I’m not lost, too?”

Three days after that, San wakes and feels an impossibly strong urge to sing. Just something bright and loud. Something hopeful.

He pictures your coffeeshop and your face.

And he feels himself smiling widely.

Opening his phone, his fingers type faster than the wind:

Heading your way in 10 :)

That weekend, you go drinking together.

You’re both tipsy, sitting in a bar booth with your sides pressed together, and everything comes to head.

You’re both tipsy and warm, filters long lost, when San pours out the rest of the story to you. The side of the story that the wind in his ears usually hid in white noise.

It’s a euphoric story with deafeningly beautiful highs, but also a heartbreaking one with devastatingly ugly lows. But as he pours out the joys of standing on stage, of the laughter-filled, starlit walks back to the dorms, you know it was worth it to him.

And you also come to know, he didn’t choose to quit.

He keeps pouring drinks; keeps pouring out his emotional, earnest soul.

Midway through the night, your dulled head has just enough awareness to realize you are in love with that soul.

And as you have to wave away another glass, you will always hold onto the magnificent moment when he admits: “But I don’t feel sad about any of it when I’m with you.”

The next day, you wake up at your place. San’s lying beside you.

“Morning,” he groans.

If your head and body didn’t hurt so much, that alone would have inspired you to restart last night’s activities.

“Everything hurts,” you groan.

“Same.”

Your legs are slightly brushing each others, but your torsos aren’t touching. It makes you feel sad. Then something in you melts when he shifts his weight closer to you so they are.

“Are”—you yawn—”we going to that… ugh…. waterfall today?”

“Not after last night.” He buries his face against your hair.

“Yeah…” Your head throbs, and you groan again. “That was a very bad idea, 0/10 would not recommend.”

San makes an offended sound in the back of his throat. “The alcohol or the sex?”

Yawning again, you can barely reply. “You know which one.”

He kisses your head and yawns as well. “Let’s do it again sometime.”

“Soon.”

“Soon?”

“But... not right now.”

After yawning together, he chuckles against your hair. “Yeah, sleep... for now.”

As you both close your eyes again, San can only hear two things:

One, the steady rhythm of your breathing.

Two, the soft hum of your ceiling fan.

He falls asleep knowing:

There’s no wind.

[ateez taglist] — @seongghwaa @s1ardusk @yunwoo @toffee-hwa @yunhowhoitiss @sippn-the-tae @yeocult @barsformars (thank you for your support! I love y’all so much!!! <3 <3 <3)

#ateez #choi san #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #san imagines #choi san imagines #kpop #kpop imagines

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pickingoutchinapatterns · 4 years

Note

So, I just found out you’re a nurse. Thank you. 🙏 What is happening for you at the moment?

Ok, so I’m a nurse and admittedly I’m angry and frustrated. This is gonna be a non-filtered rant (I may go into details about some points later). Also, before I get any shit bc I’m “just a nurse” (which happens), I’ll say that nursing is actually my third degree, my other 2 (undergrad and graduate) are also in the sciences. Ok, let the rant begin.

First, when this is over, we need to fund education. EVERYONE should have a basic knowledge of math and biology. Seriously, have some of you ppl never heard of exponential growth? Let’s say an organism in a petri dish replicates once a day. At the end of the first day, you’ll have 2, but at the end of the 14th day (I’m using that bc of the current “2 week isolation period” currently being advised right now), you don’t get 28 organisms in your dish (2x14), but 16,384 (2^14) organisms. The growth of this organism will only slow down once it starts running out of resources (which is why you get an S shaped growth curve).

WHY YOU SHOULD LISTEN TO WHAT PUBLIC HEALTH IS SAYING: This is similar to disease spread. If you infect one person, you’re literally making things exponentially worse. And guess what, if you self-isolate you are GETTING RID OF THE VIRUS’ RESOURCES. Viruses, unlike bacteria, cannot replicate on their own. THEY NEED YOU TO GROW. Plus, based on the data from the Japanese cruise ship, about half of those infected were ASYMPTOMATIC. This means that we don’t know how many ppl are infected but we literally have THOUSANDS of Typhoid Mary’s out there. Plus, given that it often takes about 2 weeks to develop symptoms of the virus, so even if everyone is at home on lockdown, we won’t see how bad it actually is NOW for at least 2 WEEKS FROM NOW.

STOP HOARDING AND STEALING MASKS AND PPE (personal protective equipement). Yes, ppl are literally stealing PPE from hospitals. JUST STAY THE FUCK HOME.

I know that a lot of ppl have the attitude of “oh, it’s mild for most ppl” or “it just kills the elderly.” First, “it just kills the elderly” is NOT true. The ppl it hits the hardest INCLUDE the elderly, but ALSO INCLUDES ppl with comorbidies like diabetes, cardiac conditions and high blood pressure (SOUND LIKE ANYONE YOU MIGHT FUCKING NOW???) and HEALTH CARE WORKERS. No one knows why front line health care workers are hit so hard (my hypothesis is bc we are exposed to higher viral loads, plus we work in a stressful, germ infested place AND we do shift work…not exactly the best combinations for a healthy immune system. Plus, many of us also suffer from comorbidities as well.) The health care system was stretched tightly enough before this pandemic (cancer, flu season, infectious diseases and drug epidemics), so imagine us dealing with a pandemic AND our regular workload AND being SUPER SHORT STAFFED (which many of us are already before this began). Italy has already announced a while ago that they’re just deciding that some ppl are not gonna get any treatment bc they HAVE NO MORE RESOURCES.

A note re the N95 (airborne) mask (these are not the basic surgical masks). Did you know that we have to get trained on how to use them? And then we have to do a test to make sure that each one of us is using the right brand and size? (That’s right, it’s not a one size fits all.) Plus, men have to shave before using one bc even a bit of stubble makes it ineffective? Now imagine HCP’s are out of N95 masks (used for AIRBORNE precautions like TB, measles and shingles; surgical masks are used for droplet precautions, like the flu). We still have ppl in hospitals with TB, measles and shingles…what if these spread too now that we don’t have N95 masks?

Also, please stop using anti-bacterial soap. First, COVID 19 is a virus, not a bacteria. We already have A LOT of antibiotic resistant bacteria out there. (Ex. MRSA, VRE, C-difficile, literally called difficile bc it’s so hard to treat and kill). Back when I was working in a microbiology lab, we were extra careful using vancomycin bc it was considered a last resort antibiotic and didn’t want to accidentally have bacteria develop and spread resistance to it. Now, I see vancomycin being used in hospitals daily. (VRE literally stands for Vancomycin-Resistant Enterococci.)

This pandemic is gonna hit every health care system hard worldwide. If we’re already full, how do you think we’ll handle you coming in needing emergency surgery? What about during the high smog warnings in summer and ppl come in with heat stroke or a severe asthma exacerbation? What if you’re going to deliver?

I am a nurse and I do what I can to help ppl out. I base my nursing practice on the fact that if I’m seeing you in hospital I’m likely seeing you during the worst time of your life. This job is a roller coaster, both physically and emotionally. I will say though, it is absolutely horrible treating ppl in respiratory distress. It’s like you’re watching someone suffocate and drown at the same time. You see the panic in their eyes and in their families as they try to get enough air. You do all that you can, and even if the intervention is successful, you still feel useless and shaken. It is HORRIBLE. Please, do all that you can to stop this spread and to keep yourself healthy so that my colleagues and I won’t see you anytime soon in any one of our facilities.

End of current rant.

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majicmarker · 3 years

Note

hi, maj! i was wondering if you’d talked to gus lately? she hasn’t been online much and ik it’s silly but i worry! and maybe a little selfish on my part but i rly love when you and gus and mollie write fics for each other, they’re always so good and it’s so nice to see you all do that togther 🙂🥰

hello, nonny! if i might address the fics first, i think i speak for lots of people when i say this year has been especially difficult, and that stress does put a dent in creative output.

as for me personally, i had to make a conscious effort to put my book first — to stop using fandom as a distraction and letting myself drown in guilty feelings over updates, which was so stressful itself that it stripped me of any motivation whatsoever. i’d say all three of us would love to write more fic, but it has to come second to self-care, life in general, etc. this year in particular is no time to hold content creators to a higher standard of productivity.

(i’m not saying that’s your implication here, but it needs to be said. like, i’m seeing fandoms across the board going ahead with things like fic awards — which imo is always a bad idea — and i don’t think it’s fair to put that pressure on writers when this year has been so distressing. so many people are feeling guilty enough about the progression of their creative pursuits, so things like this and certain comments on our work just adds more grief on top of our own.)

(I DIGRESS. but it’s been months and this nags at me constantly, and now unfortunately i’m spilling that all on you, nonny. anyway. back to the point —)

gus is alright! i talk to her every day. she’s preoccupied with irl matters atm, not to mention i’m definitely peer-pressuring her into writing some original work, too, bc i am also selfish and want something Good to read that i didn’t write myself.

meanwhile i’m sure mollie is off somewhere being ridiculously beautiful or smthn. (also she has a job that sounds impressive enough that i don’t think i really understand it, which is why she’s not also getting peer-pressured, but i’m still Right.)

*re: peer pressure: unlike usually anonymous readers on the internet, i’m ALLOWED to do this to gus. we’re married. also she has all the damn dirty details on my book, so now it’s her turn. as for mollie, i leave her alone bc i’m pretty sure those big disney princess eyes of hers have hypnotic powers.

@mygutsforgarters @sail-not-drift

#the people they love u #anonymous #ask

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theconfusedartist · 3 years

Text

this goes a few places but i’ll try to stay on track

honestly, I’ve been thinking about this but like...

i kinda wanna write the arc in which the phantom thieves become better friends to the MC?

maybe this is a bit far fetched but like, the way the phantom thieves treat the main character isn’t the way you’d treat someone you care about. and like. this isn’t even coming from a place of me hating them either, bc i really really like all of them and i’m glad that they all get to move on and forward with their lives

like, the entire game the MC goes through making deals, shady connections, and dubious places to make sure everyone has what they need, whether its for weapons, items, or a shoulder to cry on, the MC is always there for them. and. i know that this is, in a game and narrative point of view, for the sake of getting the game rolling so the player can get supplies and doesn’t have to worry about waiting on other characters for things needed to assist in palace infiltrations. like, i get what it serves in a story sense, and why it needs to happen in a game sense

however

whenever i think of persona 5 as a writer, trying to write from the POV of the the MC, the phantom thieves, or any of the other confidants, it just kinda...hits me? the MC is a 16-17 year old that has managed to convince all these people that he has whatever they need to continue on with their work/life/well-being.

and for some, this makes sense, like Mishima and Shinya make sense bc in Shinya’s case its an older kid helping a younger kid with a bad parental situation using means that would keep him from getting arrested (which is when most people stop trying to help, for fear of retaliation from the parent) and with Mishima it makes sense bc he worships the phantom thieves to an unhealthy degree, while also keeping their image in his hands, and is also their only means of communicating with the outside world as the phantom thieves bc to do so otherwise would compromise their identities (not that yelling out their plans in the middle of a train station wouldn’t compromise them as well, but y’know) and that is dealt with by Mishima gaining confidence and learning how to be the hero he idolizes not only for others in distress but also for himself and continues to pursue his own creative pursuits

like, for all the phantom thieves, i have no real problems with their confidants

the only real issue is that, at rank 10, all of them declare that they’ll be on the MC’s side and help him through thick and thin. except.....they never do. and it’s not like it has to be big either, I’m not asking for any big dramatic scene either, just basic shit. like, you know what makes the MC a good friend? he reaches out, makes sure to listen, actively does what he can to help, and works with them to help them get through their problems. none of the other thieves do this, not once. and if you wanna make the argument that they all heard him out about his record, yes, that IS a great thing and i’m glad that they recognize that it was wrong.

but when i think of the rest of the game, i just think of them never talking to the MC. not even in the sense that the player has to see the conversation play out or anything, after all when you go on hang out spots with confidants but not for a link, the game says that the MC got closer to the character and you have the chance to give and exchange gifts. i really really REALLY liked that feature bc it makes it feel like the others are trying to get to know the MC and give him something he’d like.

however.

if they want to be good friends, they should also be able to do things that aren’t related to the phantom thieves. Haru, i give a(only a bit though) pass bc she joins the group so late that theres no way she’d know about all the ins and outs that the MC has to take care of as the leader, and by the time she would even get the chance, she’s dealing with her father, then the plot, then the final and Final bosses. she would’ve had no time to really learn the dynamics of the phantom thieves or the metaverse (and this is blatantly shown right before they first enter Okumura’s palace and right before they steal the treasure) and is rarely ever afforded that chance to bond with the group in game save for banter in mementos. not to mention, she actively gives some of the best boosting items in the game and also does her best to connect with the MC through their own shared similarities (Leblanc and her grandfather’s shop, always having to act a certain way for fear of reprisal, not knowing what she’s supposed to do but needed to act more mature as people don’t see her as a child but rather as a thing/tool for their benefit) that i didn’t really see in any of the other social links with the phantom thieves.

again, this isn’t saying that the thieves are being bad friends on purpose or that they’re going out of their way to be The Worst(tm) but if they’re going to claim that they want to help through thick and thin then why don’t any of the others ask about the MC? the only time i ever recall them asking the MC about things they like/dislike is during the summer Leblanc hangouts and it’s only about a specific topic. (examples being: Yusuke asking if they should make plans to go to France or buy a TV, Ryuji asking about the MCs favorite sports and preference in manga character tropes, Futaba asking if the MC ever built a laptop or dealt) i know this is a rpg, so i’m not expecting anything specific to come from the MC as the player is able to hc whatever they want about him, but even the game going ‘x asked me about y issue’ would’ve been enough. it doesn’t have to be detailed, i just want examples of the thieves that claim to be his friends asking about his hometown, his family, how the MC is doing bc rarely is that ever asked, or if the MC needs help.

like, yes, the praise about how cool and strong and awesome you are is great but if the MC has been running around Tokyo for a solid week talking to all these people, working multiple part time shifts for money, and doing xyz just to make sure the phantom thieves are operational then i (as a player) would also like that same sort of thing if this is supposed to be a team. honestly, though, it was fine for the most part bc the game was still really fun and hanging out with them (over all the other confidants like (Kawakami, Ohya, or Chihaya) is a gdamn BLESSING GOD dealing with them is stressful tbh) is honestly the highlight of the game for me bc they’re so colorful and full of life that i didn’t even really give too much thought about this save for once or twice, and that was only AFTER the interrogation room

why? bc up until this point, i had no reason to think that the phantom thieves were doing anything than what they said they would: sticking through thick and thin and lending their support. i simply attributed those moments that weren’t in the game to back up this claim as being shown during the non-confidant level up hang out times, that the things i talked about before were just not being shown to the player explicitly but it was still happening behind the scenes. but the interrogation scene with Sae kinda made that....fall flat on it’s face.

i mean, hear me out. even if, and that’s a BIG IF, there was absolutely no other way to get the police off their back, no other way to handle the assassin that was coming for them, and no way to do anything outside the metaverse.....................why was there no one there to make sure that the plan worked? like, there’s a camera inside the cell, so Futaba at the VERY LEAST should be able to tell whats going on inside, right? and even if you wanna tell me that somehow the cops were able to put that on a server that Futaba couldn’t access that still brings me back to the same point at before.

the phantom thieves, when explaining to Sae how they got their plan together, also have this nice little image of them going to the (was it the real or the fake one?) interrogation room and making sure that they COULD actually carry out their plan.

so. if they went to the physical place to make sure their plan could work, knew exactly where the MC was going to be and when, and knew there would be cameras, why did none of them have some sort of a back up plan set up? not even just in case?

like, i know that the ‘bad ending’ is the MC telling Sae the others’ identities and then dying but, the dude is drugged out of his mind! he’s been getting beaten for hours, if not an entire day, then interrogated by Sae! even if the MC had sold them out, it would’ve been a case of giving a drugged confession, bc the MC wouldn’t have been in his right mind.

yes, as a player, you can say no. as a player, you can easily say, ‘why would i give up my friends?’. it makes no sense as a player to let the characters who you’ve spent at least 40+ hours up to the wolves. but the MC? who is drugged out of his mind? who has been beaten bloody and knows that nothing he says is going to get them to stop? who then has to deal with Sae interrogating him and constantly reminding him over and over that if he doesn’t give her what she needs, he WILL die? yeah, of course the MC is going to say no, but if he did I wouldn’t hold that against him bc he’s not in the right state of mind at all. not only that, but then someone who was supposed to be a friend and ally is coming in to kill him, and the only thing to keep that from happening is starting up the metaverse and making him think he shot the real deal.

but even with that, what? did the thieves test out what would happen if someone shot what they think is that person in the other world while that same person is sitting in the same spot, at the same time, in the same conditions? bc if they didn’t, then why were they so sure this plan would work? and if they DID then why was there no one there to make sure the plan worked?

seriously, have someone hide out in the metaverse, right? then when the assassin comes in, that person can then verify that the MC isn’t fucking dead

what part of leaving a friend to act as a decoy, leaving him to deal with a police force that they have already been informed is corrupt and willing to do whatever they have to in order to get a confession (the same person that has already been brutalized by the police mind you!) by himself, to then ALSO deal with being interrogated, and then pray that the plan they came up with (that they also have no intention of making sure it worked) to deal with the assassin goes as planned, then ALSO HAVE TO PRAY that HOPEFULLY Sae decides to help him flee incarceration.

do you see my problem here? what part of any of this plan is solid? what part of any of this plan isn’t cruel? like, even with all the exceptions i was trying to give them, this is not acting as a good friend. hell, this isn’t even how you should be acting as a good ALLY, forget a friend.

and afterwards, the whole ‘yeah we’re so great we tricked akechi!’ doesn’t even feel like a good thing bc the MC can say he doesn’t remember anything and Sae can follow up saying that he shouldn’t have to remember what happened to him and

none of the thieves say a word. it’s just. glossed over.

like nothing ever happened

the bruises are gone somehow. the concern never appears. the thieves never ask.

welp! back to palace infiltration!

like?

what about that is being a good friend? and here’s what gets me: in the aftermath were the MC isn’t supposed to go outside bc ppl might see him--he’s still the one getting all the supplies.

what the hell? isn’t this the ‘thin’ they were talking about? hell, at this point i’m not even asking for them to talk about how the MC is feeling, i’m just saying they should be carrying at least some of the load if he is NOT SUPPOSED TO BE OUTSIDE

like what?

honestly, i wanna remake this post bc i ended up just making a bunch of word vomit but like. it is what it is

i love the phantom thieves but goddamn they are not very good friends. i don’t think they’re trying to be bad friends on purpose but they definitely are

#honestly #i think i need to rewrite this post #with like proper grammar and capitalization #listen #i can like characters #and also point out that #the power of *friendship* only works if you've been good friends #and persona is all about friendship #but the more i thought about that friendship #the more shallow i realized it was #and that's sad #bc the phantom thieves are some of my fave characters #but like it is what it s #persona talk

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devil-kindred · 4 years

Text

Get to Know Me - raisinghellinotherworlds

Saw @pd3 do this and though I’d give it a go!

1. Name : Siren (it’s a pseudonym!)

2. Nationality: American

3. Age: 27

4. Birthday: January 29th

5. Zodiac sign (or your primal zodiac sign): Aquarius

6. Gender: Female

7. Sexuality: Heterosexual

More below the cut

[[MORE]]

8. Your looks (add a picture or describe yourself)

For the record this is the only recent picture of myself I like and this is about as much of my face as you’ll ever see bc I know my angles.

9. What do you/did you study?: I went to school for a Bachelors in Arts with and emphasis on Sciences but never finished it bc 1) college is expensive and 2) I don’t know what I want to do career-wise so there’s not a point in going back anymore.

10. What’s your current job like?/What job would you like to have?: I’m a service desk associate at a department store. Something where I could deal with less people bc boy does this job push my patience sometimes.

11. What is your birth order?: Firstborn/Oldest.

12. How many siblings do you have?: Technically four, but only two living.

13. Do you have good relations with your family?: My immediate family. My siblings are closer to each other (but they’re only two years apart) but we get along. I also have a good relationship with my parents though I’m not as close to my mom as I could be it’s hard to forget the not nice things your parent say to you as a kid.

14. How many friends do you have?: Lots though only a few I see/talk to on a regular basis.

15. Your relationship status: Single.

16. What do you look for in a SO?: Intelligent, kind, has a sense of humor.

17. Do you have a crush?: I guess.

18. When was your first kiss?: WHY *sighs* I was... 25.

19. Do you prefer serious and meaningful relationships or casual dating/one night stands?: I’ve... never been in an actual relationship? I’d like to say serious.

20. What are your deal breakers? Being rude, cheating, and treating me like a child/you know what’s best for me/someone in need of saving (new flash, i am not your princess peach/some damsel in distress. If you need to rescue someone I am not your girl).

21. How was your day?: It’s still early into the day and I go to work in about an hour and a half and I get to close so we’ll see!

22. Favourite food & drink: French Fries. Or anything with potatoes. I’m a fiend. And Dr. Pepper or Coffee.

23. What position do you sleep in?: On my side/stomach on the part of the bed that’s against the wall.

24. What was your last dream about?: It was... highly NSFT and no, I will not go into detail.

25. Your fears: I’m not a fan of spiders or bugs of any kind really, I hate clowns, and I don’t like thunderstorms. Or tornados.

26. Your dreams: Move, either out of state or out of the country.

27. Your goals: See above.

28. Any pets?: A bird, Momo.

29. What are your hobbies?: Writing, playing video games, and reading (fanfic or books)

30. Any cool places in your area?: I’m sure there are but I live in a town surrounded by corn and other farmland so... it’s anyone’s best guess.

31. What was your last awkward situation?: The other day when a customer stared at me for a solid three minutes when I explained that due to the pandemic we’re no longer offering one of our services in an effort to reduce contact.

32. What is your last regret?: That I didn’t realize the true nature of some people who I no longer speak to sooner.

33. Language/s you can speak: English, Spanish (I’m so rusty though), a little bit of French, and a teeny tiny bit of Japanese.

34. Do you believe in astrological stuff? (Zodiac, tarot, etc.): I believe in my many things so yes.

35. Have any quirks?: Uh... I mess with my hair when I’m nervous? & the more nervous I get my (already high) voice gets higher and will go up several octaves the more nervous I get?

36. Your pet peeves: People in my apartment building slamming the front door all the damn time.

37. Ideal vacation: Somewhere with nice scenery and where it’s calm.

38. Any scars?: Quite a few small ones on my head from a car accident when I was just a baby (I went through a window- got a few scrapes but other than that was unharmed) and one on my hand (it’s on both sides of my hand too) from when I was toddler and got bit by a dog.

39. What does your last text message say?: “I’ll let you know when I get some gameplay posted!” I have a sideblog for casual TS4 gameplay. Was telling a friend that I was going to post new stuff soon.

40. Last 5 things from your search history: No thanks! It’s all just checking if a word is really a word and spelling anyways.

41. What’s your [Device] background?: Lockscreen is a wallpaper from FFXV ft. The Chocobros; Hope Screen is Sam & Evie.

42. What do you daydream about?: Writing mostly.

43. Describe your dream home: Decent amount of space, a library room to hold all my books... good lighting, comfy.... preferably NOT in the middle of nowhere.

44. What’s your religion/Your thought about religion: I am not a fan. Particularly of Christianity but everyone has their own beliefs and in that regard, to each their own. Just don’t try to convert me bc the answer is f*ck no.

45. Your personality type: INFP.

46. The most dangerous thing you’ve done?: Climbed onto the roof of the shed when I was little because I got something stuck up there.

47. Are you happy with your current life?: For the most part!

48. Some things you’ve tried in your life: Gymnastics, Ballet, etc.

49. What does your wardrobe consist of?: Lots of t-shirts, jeans, shorts, flats, boots, etc.

50. Favourite colour to wear?: Black or Blue.

51. How would you describe your style?: Extremely casual.

52. Are you happy with your current looks?: Kinda? I really need to cut my hair because it’s gotten so long it’s annoying. But I can put up with it until it’s safe again bc pandemic. My hair is not that important I assure you.

53. If you could change/add something to your appearance - impossible or not - what would it be?: Oh God, could I be taller? Like at least 5’3”? Which is still teeny but better than my 4’9” ass.

Do you have any piercings or tattoos?: I have 3 piercings and three tattoos (two finished, one in progress)

55. Do you get complimented often?: Maybe? I’m oblivious to the point that you could have a flashing neon sign with the compliment written on it and it would probably still go over my head.

56. Favourite aesthetic?: Biker Chic!

57. A popular trend that you dislike: Neon.

58. Songs you’re currently obsessed with?: Blessed Be - Spiritbox.

59. Song you normally wouldn’t admit you like: If I like a song, I like it. But if I have to pick one, I know everyone hates Despacitio. I know, ok but I really like the original version bc I like the sound. Latin music always has a fun groove to it.

60. Favourite genre?: Rock & Metal.

61. Favourite artist/band/genre?: Type O Negative, Pallbearer, Ice Nine Kills. Give me all the goth rock/metal and just fun metal in general.

62. Hated popular songs/artists?: Oh boy... don’t hate me but I um... don’t care too much for T Swift? And I’m not a fan of country.

63. Put your music on shuffle and list first 5: Devil’s // Door - VCTMS, Karasu - The GazettE, Path - Apocalyptica, I Walk the Line - Halsey, Drumming Song - Florence + the Machine

64. Can you sing or play any instruments?: I can kinda play bass but I’m still learning so it’s just like... the very bare basics.

65. Do you like karaoke?: I’m very self-conscious so no.

66. Own any albums?: Yes, though majority are digital.

67. Do you listen to radio? What stations?: Yes. I have it on for background noise in my room in which case I don’t pay attention to it, but I have XM radio in my car where I listen to Octane/Liquid Metal/Turbo.

68. Favourite movie/series?: The Dark Knight trilogy or Hellraiser or Nightbreed.

69. Favourite genre of movies/books/etc: Horror, Sci-fi, and fantasy.

70. Your fictional crush/es: Too many. Look at my OCs and their SO’s and you’ll find a bunch of them.

71. Which fictional character is you?: My friends would say Mira Jane from Fairy Tail. My bestie says Mercedes from Fire Emblem Three Houses (minus the devout part bc... I do not have nice feelings re-religion. You do you though!).

72. Are you a shipper? List your otps, if so: Yes, and once again you’ll be reading for eternity. So I’ll sum it up as too many to list.

73. Favourite greek god?: Apollo.

74. A legend from where you live that you like: It’s said that before big disasters happen in the town I live in + the surrounding areas, that you’ll see a panther. Supposedly one has been seen before at least 4 different bad things that have happened over the years. I’m in the midwest though so take that as you will.

75. Do you like art?: I do but I don’t really have a favorite. ... I am kinda partial to Van Gogh though.

76. Can you share your other social media?: I have a Pinterest but since my other social media has my name (which I also share with an OC whoops. That’s what I get for being indecisive and going the first name the name generator gave me) I’d rather not. If you ask and we’re friends I’ll probably give it to you but...

77. Favourite youtubers?: I don’t really watch too many anymore but I’ve been watching a lot of jacksepticeye’s gameplay. Aside that I tend to just watch channels like PlayStation Access or Outsidexbox.

78. Favourite platform?: Instagram

79. How much time do you spend on the internet?: More than I should, I’m sure.

80. What video games have you played? Which one’s your favourite? Uh, if I had to list them all you’d literally be reading this for eternity. To sum it up, I mostly play RPGs/JRPGs, open-world, survival horror (my fave), and a few (emphasis on few) FPS. Favorites are (once again with a limit): Bioshock, Dragon Age, Mass Effect, Until Dawn, Silent Hill 2, and Fatal Frame.

81. Your favourite books (manga also counts): do you know how f*cking hard this question is as someone who’s a bookworm? Ok, ok um... Gotta have a limit or I’ll never shut up... um... Three favorites: The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern, Horns by Joe Hill, and American Gods by Neil Gaiman.

82. Do you play board/card games?: On occasion! They’re best with bigger groups but alas, my apartment is rather small and I don’t have a lot of space for multiple people so I don’t play them often.

83. Have you ever been to a night marathon in cinema? No, but it sounds fun.

84. Favourite holiday: Halloween!

85. Are you into dramas?: As in, tv dramas? Kinda? I have a friend on lived in SK for a time and got into K-dramas so I watch them with her from time-to-time when she visits.

Would you use a Death Note if you had one?: No.

87. What changes would you make in the world, no matter how impossible, if you had the power to?: Oh boy... make everyone get along, ensure everyone could live their life to the best possible, etc.

88. Could you survive a zombie apocalypse?: Possibly.

89. If you had to be turned into a paranormal being, what would it be?: I’m going with mythical instead of strictly paranormal but... a vampire!

90. What would you want to happen to you after your death?: As in to my body? Cremate me. To my stuff, give my books to a good home and take care of my bird.

91. If you had to change your name, what would be your pick?: Most people call me by my middle name already since I got tired of people calling me the wrong name (& I like my middle name better) and insisting my first name was actually a nickname (it’s not, it’s the same as the musician I’m named after) so if I were to eventually be bothered enough, I’d have it legally changed to my middle name.

92. Who would you switch your life with for a week?: I don’t know to be honest. I’m fairly happy with my life so I think I’d just not switch.

93. Pick an emoji to be your tattoo: 🌊

94. Write 3 things about yourself - only one of them must be true: I took karate classes for several years, I’ve never dyed my hair, I’ve had two jobs thus far.

95. Cold or hot?: Cold I guess? If we’re talking in reference to seasons give me cool (aka Fall).

96. Be a hero or be a villain?: Hero because being a villain would mean I’d have to be mean to people and I can’t even pick the mean options in video games without feeling guilty so...

97. Sing everything you want to say or rhyme?: um... no? I’m not quite certain what this means but I’m going to go with no?

98. Shapeshifting or controlling time?: Shapeshifting!

99. Be immortal or be immune to everything aside from natural death?: Immortal.

#get to know me #get to know siren #my face #please DON’T REBLOG #my apologies to anyone on mobile #i put a read more and it shows up if i view my blog in my web browser but isn’t showing when i view it in the app!

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tfw-no-tennis · 3 years

Text

mtmte liveblog issue 11

and here we have to conclusion to the shadowplay arc...

clearly prowl hasn't seen national treasure smh

prowl, what exactly is confusing you about ‘secret government-sanctioned brainwashing facility’

the fact that prowl was willing to go so strongly against his morals to protect chromedome...oof bro

so the senator is basically professor x and all the outliers are mutants. got it

senator shockwave was just a sexy thot who wanted justice....poor guy

so there ARE gloves on cybertron...am I to just assume that the doctors don't like using them for some reason????? I mean tbf I've known a few medical professionals who don't wear gloves during certain procedures, like giving shots which, imo, yikes I would never, even simple vaccines can cause bleeding, but to each their own...are ppe rules not strict on cybertron, or is there a low risk of infection transfer due to the nature of cybertronian diseases? ah, the real questions

anyways. I should stop going on extremely off-topic medical rants

I relate to tailgate in his tendency to misspell. these liveblogs would be unreadable if it weren't for spellcheck

ouch, the fact that cd ‘never really forgave’ prowl for leaving the heist party w/out a word, even tho it turns out prowl stormed off w/a final request to keep cd safe and out of it all....cd and prowl are just a big tragic trainwreck huh

its interesting that skids used to be religious, when it seems like he isn't now. Wonder What Could Have Caused That Shift In Ideology! Hm!

oh my god I love how ironfist’s fanboy ranting about the primal vanguard is cut short just as he’s saying ‘a bomb disposal kit once used by-’ bc its like Oh I bet he was about to mention tailgate, yknow, the guy who (claims he) was the primal vanguard’s bomb disposal guy...that's such a great little detail

the stuff we hear from roller about senator shockwave is super interesting - it sounds like he’s been pretty aware of the state of society for a while, and has been trying to combat it from the inside...which isn't going so great, it seems, considering the state of society at the time.

also the whole ‘modifying people to hold the matrix (sometimes without their consent?)’ thing he’s got going on is. interesting. again, is there any sort of ethics laws on cybertron, seriously guys,

oof, op cares so much abt senator sw :( they were in love okay

red alert :(

rodimus is such an interesting character AUGH the fact that he takes red alert’s potential suicide to be a personal failing on his part as a captain...which, yknow, that idea has merit considering rodimus’s part in the whole overlord thing, as well as rodimus having told red alert that ‘everyone thought he was losing it.’ yeahhhhh, that's not quite the approach to take w/someone clearly suffering from a paranoid breakdown

poor magnus has no idea about all the overlord stuff, which is what triggered red alert’s breakdown

tho, magnus, idk that putting red alert in a cryofreeze chamber or w/e is the solution here. although maybe they’re all just at a loss bc cybertron’s only mental health specialist is current hanging out comatose in a bar

are we supposed to (retrospectively) read into rodimus and drift’s agreement to put red alert in storage as a way of covering up the overlord stuff? did they deduce that he figured out about overlord and that's what caused his breakdown? rodimus seems genuinely distressed about the whole cold storage situation, but is there more to it than ‘I failed as a captain bc this guy had a breakdown under my command’? I genuinely do not remember a lot about the overlord plot bc I was so confused the first time I read it and the second time I was too busy being extremely sad, so.

genuinely shocked that cybertron even has ‘health and safety inspections.’ it just figures that the one ratchet conducted wasn't an actual inspection, but an excuse to prepare for some good ole fashioned heisting

man I love a good heist/break-in

ok so skids rlly is just here for his grappling hook hvbhksddfjbjkdf my man

UH OH SENATE GOONS. never good

whoa, cybertronians have glenohumeral joints?? tho, ratchet says ‘glenohumeral socket,’ which doesn't exist in humans - we have a glenoid cavity/fossa/socket that articulates w/the head of the humerus to form the glenohumeral joint, so, close enough

anyways, that sure was a nonsequiter. ratchet busting out his lock picking skills is dope. do they teach that sorta stuff in cybertronian medical school? maybe its in place of the patient confidentiality lesson

seriously, ratchet sure knows a lot about bombs for a doctor. maybe they also cut out the courses on ppe and patient consent to make room for the cool stuff like BOMB CLASSES

op really DOES like jumping off stuff, doesn't he

oh no senator :(

JK HERES OP BUSTIN THRU A DUDES CHEST

oh no roller :(

‘remember me how I was’ NOOOO IM GONNA FUCKING CRY. SW AND OP MAKE ME SO SAD. GOD

op yeeted that matrix bomb like he was trying to make a touchdown or...something. not sure why I chose football, the only sport I dislike, as my metaphor here

lol it blew up a police station, nice

god, that reveal that the institute that we saw last issue was just one of many....and the one we saw was strikingly awful enough, so the fact that there's a ton more like that....oof

also, again, super interested in the fact that cd was involved in this arc where they see how scary and evil the institute is and then ended up working for the institute - well, the ‘new institute’ - later on

I'm weeping at the ‘big reveal’ for tailgate being that orion pax is optimus prime....its so funny that he didn't know that so it was a huge twist for him and absolutely nobody else hvbakdjhfbksjdf I love tailgate

also. is that the picture somebody drew of op for tg lmao

:D and then skids manages to wake rung up!!! all by getting his name wrong lmao. tho, maybe all the storytelling helped!

oh shit its zeta (prime?), here to talk to op, presumably about becoming the next space pope

HHHHHHHHHHHHHH GOD THAT REVEAL!!!!!!!!!!!!! BROOOOO the senator shockwave reveal slapped me right in the FACE the first time I read this, and that's saying something bc I seriously only understood like 40% of the shadowplay story my first readthru. but the shockwave reveal still had me SHOOK like oh god that was so fucking brutal. jesus

like the fact that the emotionless decpeticon shockwave used to have a completely different look and personality is already crazy enough, but then the tie-ins of empurata and shadowplay? brutal and amazing

like, this is the kinda retrospective backstory stuff that I love. it gives a lot of cool depth to both the characters and the world. I feel like it really helped cement concepts like empurata and shadowplay in the world

and just, AUGH The Reveal still gets me...im pretty sure in my first readhtru I only picked up the fact that the senator PURPOSELY hasn't been named during this issue, and I was kinda ready for some sort of reveal but also figured it could be someone I didn't know bc of my limited tf lore knowledge, but even I knew who shockwave was and phew that blew me away

that full-page art spread is fuckin banging also

anyways, shadowplay arc! I really enjoy this arc and all its genre-hopping goodness, and the framing device of the characters telling a story is a lot of fun. plus we get to see a lot of cool backstory for many characters, and got tons of great worldbuilding for jro’s pre-war cybertron.

I understood a lot more of the story upon my second (and now third) readthru of the series, which was super rewarding bc the first time I wasn't able to follow a lot of stuff (1st readthru I tended to assume that me being confused about something was due to my lack of previous knowledge of lore/story, so I didn't often analyze stuff seriously, or even employ critical thinking skills lmao).

also some gnarly stuff went on w/the red alert b-plot, which we’ll pick up with later....

#lj rereads mtmte

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whatelsecanwedonow · 4 years

Note

“Radical empathy”. I like it—I think. If I’m understanding what you mean by just those two words lol... I’m just over/about half way in (though I do know some details of what happens in the back half). Im very curious of your thoughts. Maybe you could answer in broad strokes before the cut then free for all spoilers... and pls tag so that I can come back to it!) I gotta finish, but rn I’m building up to facing the “rat king” or w/e bc I am a massive baby and am v scared lol.

Thank you for asking!! I’ll tag this for you and put it all under a cut, just in case:

Good luck with the rat king, lmao. Nasty ass motherfucker. But the game itself, my thoughts are that it’s built game ever. Every mechanic, every movement, every control interface feels so smooth. It’s all fluid and instinctual. You can feel the detail to creation in everything. My favorite thing may be the sound design, though... the score, the ambient sounds, the sound of gore, the way that different environments feel so naturally different... everything is so real. It’s mastery. I’m already thinking about what this game is going to look like on the PS5 remaster.

As for story, yes, radical empathy!! Not my original idea but it absolutely is what this is all about. This is the darkest, most emotionally distressing... media/art experience? Ever? Surely for me and perhaps objectively, for most people. This game is unrelentingly harsh. It’s physically taxing. It’s extraordinary deep and the detail at every single level is absurd. It feels so natural in the way you inhabit it and live within the world as these people that the line between observing and participating in something is so blurred... obviously that’s the trick of a video game of this caliber, but you feel truly as if you’re an active participant with agency to make decisions in TLOU2, instead of being limited to observing what is to come. The first game did this well, but this game takes it to levels that, again, blur that line so much... I think that’s storytelling taken to a new and profound level.

And there’s all that depth and darkness meant to take you on a journey that in the end, I think. is meant to communicate not just the futility of violence, the sickening reality of the cycle of violence and how it can consume anyone. It’s saying that the best thing we can do, the bravest thing we can do, is care enough to forgive those who have wronged us most. At least, see them as people, see them as people who are equal to you. In every person is a universe, and all people have their own motivations, their own pain, their own trauma. And if you acknowledge that and overcome violent impulses that’s a radical act of empathy that can save so many people. Not the least of whom is the person who may have right to vengeance.

I’ll get more specific here: I think a lot of people are upset that Joel was killed so early on. I think they’re upset that we played so much of the game as Abby (Who I don’t love by the end, but I understand, and care about and like well enough). And it also seems they’re upset that Ellie didn’t bash Abby’s head in, or choke her out in the ocean. Well if you can’t get over that Ellie didn’t murder Abby I don’t think you get ANYTHING this game is trying to do. Killing Abby would destroy Ellie, probably forever. Murdering all of Abby’s friends already took her to the fucking brink. I think Ellie’s villainous actions in Seattle are very much akin to what we never saw Joel do, in the 20 years between Sarah’s death and Boston. She’s been broken. She was broken before going after Abby in Santa Barbara. If she had killed Abby and left Lev to fend for himself and possibly die alone, do you think she’d ever again be able to look who she’d become? She would see herself as being just as evil as Abby was to her. As evil as Joel was before learning to love Ellie. And it’s the thought of Joel, the changed man, the man who changed for and because of her that compels her to take her heroic stand. To spare Abby and refuse to go down the same road and perpetuate the cycle of violent loss.

And I hope it doesn’t seem that I’m taking Joel’s death lightly with those thoughts, I loved Joel. Watching Abby brutalize him and literally beat his brains in was stomach-turning. I identified with him so much not just because he’s a dumbass but because he loves Ellie like I love Ellie as a character. He sees that Ellie is a spectacular, hilarious, wonderful person who has known almost nothing but pain and hurt in their awful world. All he wants is to give her a chance at a world of happiness. And in protecting her and caring for her, in trying to create the opportunity for that happiness to grow, he can find redemption that he thought would never come again after losing Sarah. "If somehow the Lord gave me a second chance at that moment...I would do it all over again." That fucking broke me to pieces. Even though I think Joel and Abby’s father are both guilty of taking Ellie’s agency as a person away from her - why did it never occur to either of them to ask the girl at the center of this procedure whether she thought she should die? She was 14, so it’s arguable that she would have understood the gravity of her decision, despite the guilt of what happened with Riley... but Joel at least did what he did from a traumatized, if selfishly-born, place unconditional love. And the reveal that Ellie knew since two years prior to the main story, I think it proves that she was at least beginning to understand his motivation. As conflicted as she was, as much as it hurt that he lied, she loved him too.

I’ve read thoughts from a few people who have interpreted this the same way that I did, and this is just interpretation... clearly the game is completely ambiguous with the ending. Ellie is, literally, all alone in the world as she leaves the farm. She could be heading off to wander aimlessly as some sort of TLOU Mad Max/Road Warrior. But that would break my heart, lol, I don’t think I can accept that. She’s learned something profound in sparing Abby. I don’t think I can ever accept that she’s just going to drift as an empty shell of what she used to be forever. I think she wants to honor Joel by attempting to live the life both of them wanted to have: one of purpose and meaning, but also lasting happiness and love.

So I find hope in that the game begins and ends on that animation of the moths. At the start of the game it represents Ellie being draw into the fire, into the futile flames of vengeance and revenge. At the end the moths represent her being drawn towards the light - she’s been freed and has made peace with herself and Joel, and is leaving the farm to embrace the goodness inside her and honor the lessons she’s learned. The same growth Joel found by loving Ellie. The same growth Abby found in sparing Ellie and Dina, which is no small parallel to Ellie/Joel in the way that it was Lev that saved Abby from falling into a spiral of violence that she may never have broken free of again.

Ellie’s will always be traumatized, but she’s so much wiser. Two fingers lighter but so much wiser. And now she’s off to Jackson to hope that Dina can find the strength to forgive her. And Dina definitely went back there, by the way, she wasn’t about to try and survive on that farm by herself with JJ. Jesse’s family said she was always welcome, if you read Ellie’s journal you’ll see that was said. So I think, with time, they can work through the pain. It’ll take some unbelievable forgiveness on Dina’s part but Dina is emotionally strong and incredibly empathic. Did you notice the one thing Dina took from Ellie’s art room? She took the portrait that Ellie created of her. She didn’t let go, not entirely. And now I’m going to choose to believe that Ellie won’t ever again, either.

And she’s going to learn to play guitar pseudo-lefty with a pick and tear shit up again. 👌

#The Last of Us Part II #tlou spoilers #tlou2 spoilers #tlou 2 spoilers #i intended to control myself and then... i didn't #Anonymous

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cosmicmoved · 4 years

Text

HEADCANON for SUMI

actually, this is a headcanon for karam too but this specific post is more sumi-centric so maybe i’ll talk about the karam end of things later. for now, though, it’s sumi’s turn bc i don’t talk about her enough (:

Okay, so I’ve decided to drag Sumi into Karam’s plotline for no reason besides that...I Wanted To but it also helps his plotline make more sense if he has a sort-of go-between character like Sumi in there somewhere. This post will explain what that means and why I’ve come to this decision! Until now, Sumi was kind of just her own character and she wasn’t really tied to any plot besides her own but I didn’t really know what to do with her beyond her backstory. I think this was definitely limiting her as a character so I’d like to use this chance to give her more direction! So, from hereon out, she’s going to be part of the Karam plotline! She’s still her own character but I like making my muses know each other bc,,,idk,...it feels like a more complete universe in my head. Anyway, with that out of the way, I’ll get on to explaining the story behind this connection! Full disclosure though, I’m sticking it under a Read More because it got kind of lengthy. I did TRY to be more succinct but maybe it’s about time I just accept that I’m not capable of that /:

First off, a lot of stuff might be setting or verse-dependent. I guess I’ve written stuff where these muses aren’t strictly based in one country and there’s always the chance of one of them moving somewhere else for the sake of a certain plotline? But the fun thing about rp is its fluidity so I’m going to try and stop getting overly concerned about details that don’t really matter too much. Sumi travels a lot. Maybe Karam tags along sometimes. Shit gets vague. It’s fine. ASDFGHGFDS......

To keep things simple, Sumi is the one who first found Karam when he wound up in the city after his forest was destroyed -- or, rather, she was the first person to try and help him. Other people had likely found/seen him but ignored him one reason or other (he would’ve been pretty dishevelled and tbh,,,probably naked bc what the fuck is he gonna wear clothes in the forest for). As I’ve said before, Sumi can tell when people aren’t human. Her senses aren’t especially strong so she can’t always place what somebody actually is, only if they’re a human or a ghost; she doesn’t have an inherently ability to sense what somebody is but, because she’s spent so much time learning to separate living humans from the spirits of the dead, she’s developed the ability to tell when somebody is neither, even if she can’t say for certain What they are. Because it’s a feat of applied knowledge and not a natural ability, mistakes happen. Now, Karam is a spirit. Not remotely human, despite his appearance. Still, long story short, Sumi mistook him for a ghost and, despite her charging humans for help with their ghostly issues, she’s often willing to help a ghost in need free of charge (because um...ghosts don’t have money). When she found Karam, he was in a state of obvious distress so she assumed he must have been a pretty new ghost, the sort who haven’t at all come to terms with the fact that they are, y’know, dead. Much to her shock, he wasn’t dead and was instead very much alive and tangible but still very much in need of help. More in need of help than she’d expected, in fact.

Sumi has always been the sisterly type so it felt natural to reach out a hand to somebody in need, mostly out of the goodness for heart and because she felt bad for him but also partly because Karam reminds her a little bit of Chulsoo, her late brother (despite being much much older, Karam looks about the age Chulsoo would be if he were still alive) with whom she is in no longer contact despite his being a ghost because he decided to use the afterlife to See The World until he was ready for Sumi to exorcise him. Yikes. That’s another story for another post. She was able to offer Karam a place to stay, a spare room in her apartment (where he’d start this new experience by staying in his room for a fortnight straight, only leaving to slink his way in and out of the bathroom), and help him make sense of a new and confusing world. First, she would offer him her brother’s old clothes to wear and then she would eventually resign herself to the reality of the situation and agree to buy Karam his own clothes, letting him pick out what he liked but also giving him tips wherever possible (financially speaking, this wasn’t her smartest move but she has a guilty pleasure in clothes shopping and the knowledge that she was doing it to help somebody else made her feel better about the whole thing).

In fact, she helped him get tidied up in general. Let him pick out a hairstyle from a pile of magazine and used her experience with hairdressing to replicate it for him. Maybe it’s because Sumi’s rather vain herself (and proud of it, mind you) but she’d fully believed a good start for Karam was to help him discover his own image and use that to regain confidence. Well...that, and the fact he’d looked an absolute state when she found him and she was of the firm belief that it was a shame for him to be wasting his pretty face on dishevelled hair and ill-fitting clothes that hung off him. But, really, Sumi sees her image as the ultimate form of self-expression. The way she styles herself is her way of telling the world who she is --- and, for someone who spends so much time with ghosts, looking as bright and lively as possible means a lot to her --- so she believed that helping Karam with that sort of thing might help him with this strange transition into a new world and come into his own. Yes, she was aware that this plan might fail and Karam might have been distinctly uninterested in his own looks but it ended up working out well. Karam is slow to warm to most very human things but he picked up on this quite quickly and was very willing to engage with it. For Karam, it was a matter of everything changing too fast and those changes being so overwhelming that making these dramatic changes over which he had full control, changes that he made himself and that weren’t forced on him, helped him to process the situation --- but I’ll talk about that in more detail another time, this is Sumi’s post.

Karam is very distrustful of humans and, although he trusts Sumi more than most on account of her having helped him so much, there’s a part of him that is paranoid it’s some kind of trick. Because of this, he tends to keep Sumi at an emotional distance. After all, despite her abilities, she’s still essentially just human and he’s been forced to regretting humans in the past (that is also another story for another time because, again, this is not Karam’s post so I won’t be going into details here). Although it’s frustrating, Sumi understands this and lets Karam keep his distance. She understands that he’s grateful regardless and she doesn’t want to cause any unnecessary discomfort. But, even besides that, their relationship is a little odd simply because they butt heads a lot. She kind of just lets him away with shit because she finds him endearing. Often, Karam won’t even stick around at her place. He’ll just disappear for days on end and resurface when he feels like it but it’s more about the choice to have somewhere he can return. Y’know, the illusion of home.

Perhaps it’s because of that initial comparison she made between him and Chulsoo or perhaps it’s because he has such a young appearance but, despite the large age gap (wherein Karam is just under 240 years older than her), Karam brings out the big sister in Sumi. Maybe this is also why Karam doesn’t like her that much LMAO...............actually, he kinds of HATES it but asdfghgfd. In the time since she’s met him, she’s seen him struggle with things; she’s seen that he does have good moments and that he’s not intentionally rude in any way so much as he just has a hard time with certain social rules. She’s grown fond of him and feels that she has to try and help him out. Again, it’s hard to say if this is because of the time she spends helping ghosts or if it’s because he ignites the part of her that feels guilty for not being able to protect Chulsoo. It could just be that she’s sincerely worried about Karam. Maybe it’s a combination of them all, Sumi can’t quite tell for herself.

#« 𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐃 (sᴜᴍɪ) » / 「 headcanon. 」#« 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐀𝐘 (ᴋᴀʀᴀᴍ) » / 「 headcanon. 」#like this if u read it i guess!! but no pressure ofc ASDFGH #the actual hc part of this is like 1.2k words long and i was gonna try and revise it but i can't be bothered #i UNDERSTAND if it's too long for anybody to bother reading it but i just wanted to get it out there #im gonna write a drabble abt when she finds him i think and idc if nobody reads it ASDFGHGFDS #i wanna write abt karam from another person's perspective bc writing him just from his OWN perspective doesn't really #let anybody know what kind of vibe he has ?? bc he keeps everything to himself #but also bc i love writing sumi's perspective on ppl bc she's just...she has strong feelings abt things ASDFGFDSA #anyway i just felt it was time i fleshed stuff out for sumi and i feel bad making her a supporting character in another muse's plot but #since she didn't even really have a concrete plotline on her own this is actually BETTER for her #im actually respecting sumi MORE by doing this #bc now she's actually part of smth instead of being that oc i vaguely ignore #also i like making my ocs know each other who cares #i can't be bothered rereading this to make sure it's not dumb sorry

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