#exaggerating obviously. but I do genuinely need price to be like

[bruciemilf]

“You remind me of somebody. Know any Ghost?”

“Like, personally?”

[twelvedaysinaugust]

I don't disagree that Harry and Louis seem to have different values when it comes to their careers, and especially the type of careers they want, but I do think the gap tends to get exaggerated. Particularly on Harry's side. Louis is an independent artist, even working with BMG, while Harry is in a much more traditional artist-label relationship and so I think has a lot less leeway/choices than we think he does. Not in a 'the Azoffs are evil puppetmasters' way, but in a 'this is how contracts work, particularly in a highly consolidated industry' way. I feel like it's really instructive to look at Harry and compare him to Lizzo, since they share the same management - she also launched a related apparel brand, she (seems to have) also used dynamic pricing, she's playing the same venues as Harry's residencies. Obviously, the choice to go independent itself shows some difference in values, but they made those choices at different times. I don't know if I'm articulating myself well, but basically I think that probably if we could sit them down and ask them to articulate their ideal careers, they'd be less far apart in terms of values than we think, it's just that the state of the industry forces some uncomfortable trade offs on them both that puts them further apart than I think they'd be in their ideal world.

And while I know people are eager for Harry to leave Full Stop and Sony, I just think that's wildly unrealistic. He's making them a lot of money, and I don't imagine that a split would be amicable. And going forward, at a minimum, he needs to play in Live Nation-owned venues, which also means using Ticketmaster. I mean, for all that Harry is a "big" artist, all you have to do is look at Pearl Jam in the 90s to see how the industry could fuck with an artist's career, and the industry has only gotten more consolidated since then. Again, not in a 'the Azoffs are evil' way, but in a 'monopolies are bad' way.

I definitely agree with you that people exaggerate the differences between Harry and Louis in a lot of ways (and sometimes I think Harry and Louis themselves exaggerate these differences). I share your thoughts about certain constraints associated with Harry's career. We know that artists can opt out of dynamic pricing and I've wondered if Harry wanted to do this... would he be able to? But I'm not convinced he actually wants to do that. I think he's very actively and consciously pursued this type of career.

The main reason why I think Harry and Louis' values might differ substantially in this area is because of Louis' comments about "greedy fuckers" and artists charging upwards of $400 for one ticket. Whether or not those statements are directed at Harry specifically, they certainly call Harry to mind. And while Louis also wears designer both on and off stage, spends time on yachts, etc. I also think the accessibility of shows is a value that's genuinely felt by him.

[themiracleofteddybearmanifestos]

spoilers galore, be warned

I finished watching this show about an hour+ ago but I'm spinning. I'm on an emotional high, and I just need to rant some more to get it out of my system.

Where to begin. There's a thousand things to say so I'll just start wherever.

Tarn. I love this man more than ever expected. I'm a huge enemy of shows that spend the entirety of the run time developing a relationship only to throw it away, but! As the flashbacks with Tarn and Nut came, all I could do was wish for this mans happiness. He's sweet, loving, caring, respectful, respectable, an activist, an artist, beautiful, smart, determined. Essentially, every good quality a person could posses, this man hoards.

I hate how the ending went for Tofu, and yet, I brought it upon myself because I wished for Tarn to be happy. I would have rioted if he didn't get a happy ending and I couldn't see any possible way for him to get that aside from how things played out. He deserved every bit of joy he could get, especially after enduring a lot. Though, I will say that Nut definitely endured the worst of anyone. How could so many things go wrong in one persons life? It's a tragedy on top of a tragedy for him, and I'm glad he found his happiness, even though I'm upset at the price it cost.

Tofu, my sweet angel. I loved him every bit as much as I loved Tarn. What a selfless boy, and what a kind soul. Weird that he's a teddy bear, and the final episode did a lot of weird things. I didn't quite like how he was lingering even til the end. He only wanted Nut to be happy, and I guess he could be considered happy with how things went down, but seeing him at the very end was a bit sour for me.

I would have liked to see some more moments with Tarn and Nut together at the end, since that's who he ended up with. I've never felt this split between love interests in what I didn't expect to be a love triangle and I don't even know if it could be called that.

There's a lot to be said, and my thoughts are a mess. I wrote in my phones notes app 100 pages worth (not exaggerating) of ranting, and yet I have an infinite amount more to say. I haven't come to terms with anything that happened.

Prib, I'll throw her in here. She sucked and I hated her. I am sad to always say that about women in BL shows, BUT here's the thing. She grew on me once she got over Nut and was just a friend. because she's a very beautiful, sweet girl by the end. I just couldn't stand her antics and she frustrated me beyond belief for a good chunk of her screen time. But like I said, once she calmed down and was a friend, I was able to love her. I had in passing hoped she'd get a girlfriend because that's my agenda always, but I didn't expect for them to actually do it. I need an entire show dedicated to them. Prib is genuinely SO adorable, and her eventual girlfriend is as well. I screamed despite usually hating to do that. I legitimately screamed..

I'm going to be transferring my notes to this blog just so I can pretend that someone is hearing me because I need to express this to the world.

Trauma!!!! I'll obviously do an entire post dedicated to this subject, but it needs to be mentioned here also. The handling of trauma was very well done whether that was Mrs Na's trauma or Nut's. They're such sympathetic people, and yet I also was angry at them multiple times. But that's indicative of a good, fleshed out character. They were consistent and made mistakes, but their hearts were good. Nut dealt with his mother so poorly, but when things were more explained you realize oh shit, he's in a terrible position. I would say I wouldn't wish any of the things that happen to him upon my worst enemy, but that's a lie. I wish that and more would happen to Jan and the woman who runs the company that Saen worked for. Also I'm glad Sib died, and that's one reason why I can't hate Saen. He did shitty things, but he wasn't an irredeemable person like his brother and wife. I am upset he took the fall for Jan. They both should have been locked up. But that Jan murdered Tofu and was able to get away with it is so infuriating. I hated that woman from the start and I'll hate her forever more. She did nothing good, and was cruel to a woman suffering from debilitating mental illnesses. She was hateful and evil towards innocent young men, and threw slurs at them for existing. She murdered the sweetest boy alive, but in that instance it was moreso an assisted suicide.

Tofu til the very end was selfless and loving. I wish he hadn't done what he did, but to him it's what he thought was the right choice. Because if he hadn't, Tarn would never have woken up. And I hate that it boiled down to one or the other. I cannot express how much I hate it.

I'm not exaggerating by saying witnessing Tofu's death was a traumatic experience and I know that that's so silly and unhealthy for me to have gotten so attached to a character but I'm incredibly isolated at the moment so I cling to what I can. I keep seeing flashes of the scene, him spasming and foaming at the mouth, and God it really sucks. I cried harder than I've cried in a long while, and that's saying a lot considering how hard and how often I tend to cry.

To describe him as a miracle was entirely correct. His very existence was quite literally a miracle, but everything about him was beyond that. The healing he brought to the lives of everyone he knew, whether Na and Nut, or Song and his father. He fixed relationships and individuals.

Brief interlude for Keunchai, who is my dearest friend despite never truly meeting him. I would die for him. When he wore the lion outfit, the party hat, and when he got bingo? I couldn't help but be delighted. Love that good boy with every fibre of my being!

Back to Tarn, who I love dearly. I just need to repeat it over and over to really make it hit home. He's wonderful and amazing. He gave Nut so much love and support, and then went on to also give the world the same. Almost getting killed to protest deforestation and corrupt corporations? One of the most respectable things possible!

Oh, one of my most loved lines was when Nut said "Tarn showed me the reality of this world, but you showed me the beauty." following Tofu's death.

On the matter of LGBTQ+ ! I love how blatantly and repeatedly the matters were mentioned. Nut specifically said he wanted to show that the "country that exports BL shows, has the prettiest transgender people, and has gay couples as internet celebrities, doesn't treat those same people with respect" (not verbatim). There were a lot of issues addressed on the inner workings of the country that I, a foreigner, have no place to further touch upon. But I'm definitely appreciative of the calling out of civil rights violations in any context for any nation.

I'm cutting this short (ironic word choice) because I'm going to switch back to my phones notes so I can vent even more there. Will upload that in its entirety though.

[vidalinav]

For the love of god please stop saying Elain is coddled.

Why is that the rhetoric we have come up with when it doesn’t really exist? 

From the beginning, it’s Feyre who says that she genuinely believed that Elain didn’t know she was capable of helping. That’s the beginning in which we will constantly go back to. 

We have in acomaf, of course, Nesta being like Elain doesn’t meet these fae, get out and for that she concedes very easily mind you when Elain says well she’s our sister. That’s it. If we’re arguing Nesta’s role in being protective, that’s Nesta’s personality for every character. That’s what’s proven in acosf. Plus, we have to consider that Nesta’s constant framing is that she hides her own emotions in her mean demeaner. She protects herself as well as Elain. Circumstances say these people are fae who historically kill and enslave, and she hasn’t heard from her sister and she’s fae now, and they have all been glamoured at some point BY FAE. That’s not illogical to think. Nesta’s response then may be about Elain, or it may be about the situation in which she feels unsafe and untrusting. Probably a bit of both, but that doesn’t allude to her being over bearing. Not yet. So let’s continue. 

In acowar, we have Elain practically catononic. That’s not an over-exaggeration. She is shown to be in a very bad way, rightfully so. We do have Nesta being protective. Feyre has not been there for the beginning of the book as she’s in Spring. They are in a new world and new bodies. Lucien hasn’t been there either. When Feyre thinks they both need to move out of the house, they both move out of the House, and that’s that. No one in these scenes can be said to be coddling Elain. What is the alternative exactly when Lucien and Feyre are not there and Nesta and Elain are put in the House of Wind for this period of time? 

In acofas, again when is Elain coddled? When Cerridwen and Nuala say it’s a bad day for her? Because I precisely remember Nesta saying get lost, and Feyre being like well... how’s Nesta? And Elain is upset by Nesta’s standoffishness. Maybe when Feyre’s like talk to Lucien? Because that’s just Feyre’s nosy personality, we already know this. Again, that’s not coddling. 

So in acosf, WHEN IS ELAIN CODDLED? 

I will go down saying this, because I think it’s too much of an accepted idea, when there’s not evidence to say it exists. It only exists because of that one scene where Feyre says she shouldn’t have said that to only you Nesta. After Elain is like I can do whatever I want, you only think of what my trauma does to you... with the context of Nesta not being there for a year, then being at the House and then not wanting to be used and then being invited to a meeting in which they’re asking to use her, and then knowingly pushing the idea that it will be Elain if not her, which we can accurately assume that is what they want to do, since it is literally said in the book that is what they’re doing by Cassian and then by Amren who notes a similar idea. 

I feel that the argument could be that she is being neglected, when her silence or her lack of screen time is a way in which she is showing that she is not okay. But then you have to consider... Nesta is very obviously not okay, which Elain shows in acowar, but not now. For the most part, we know she’s gardening, she’s baking, she’s hanging out with Cerridwen, Nuala assumingly, and she’s been around Feyre at some points. So does it look like she’s relatively okay? Yes. 

But being coddled? Come on. By who? 

Even Azriel when he says Elain shouldn’t do that, blah blah is argued against. Elain isn’t even there when it happens. Lucien keeps his distance and minds his own. So who exactly is CODDLING HER??? Not involving her is not coddling her, when Elain is never the option that they think of. Feyre not going to her or thinking she’s the one I’ll go to if I have a problem because she’s my reliable big sister, is Elain’s own fault. That’s the price she pays for not doing anything either when she hunts. But is that being overprotective where she loses free will? NO! 

Please, I beg you, stop saying that. 

It’s one of the concepts regarding Elain’s character that I don’t understand even slightly. I personally think that’s what contributes to this lunacy of the el/riel conflict and femininity, blah blah blah. Because we have inaccurately made her a victim of other people even when the objective is making her less of a character who plays the victim. 

It’s driving me insane. You cannot have a whole book of characters all coddling Elain. That doesn’t exist. You cannot have a whole book of characters who don’t even mention Elain, who don’t see Elain coddle Elain. That’s doesn’t make sense. 

This has been by Wednesday morning report. 

[soft-glitch]

Through Thick And Thin

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog

Type: hurt/comfort, platonic fluff

Word count: about 2700 words

Author’s notes: this year was a mess. But I’m grateful for a few things that happened to me in 2020. One of these things is getting into the Sonic fandom, which helped me find joy in being creative again. Another is a budding friendship with someone really cool, that I can only hope will last for a long time.

This fic is kind of a gift to that person for New Year’s Day. To everyone, but especially to you O, I wish a happy new year and many good things to come.

- - - - -

It was not an easy morning.

Shadow had always been an early bird. He never needed much sleep compared to other mobians, thanks to his bio-engineered origins. This was both a blessing and a curse, depending on the days.

Being able to stay up most of the night during missions proved useful more than once. On the other hand, when ugly thoughts would assail him and sleeping them away was not an option, well… It was suddenly much less interesting.

On this last day of December, the hedgehog could not shake uneasy feelings. Between Eggman’s plotting and his own personal issues Shadow always had rough times, but this year had been… a lot.

Walking silently in the empty corridor, careful not to wake up anyone in the household, the dark mobian reached the kitchen and started preparing hot chocolate. Since most of his friends knew about his sweet tooth he didn’t bother hiding it anymore, and Rouge always made sure they were stocked up on cocoa.

While waiting for the milk to warm, he glanced at the clock on the wall. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

The eerie calm of early hours often made Shadow slightly uncomfortable. Despite his introvert side enjoying the peaceful solitude, it was also a moment where his thoughts would simmer in his mind, either awoken by confuse dreams or simply emerging as the day started. He would often put some music or read a book to avoid thinking too hard about it.

Didn’t always work, though.

Taking a deep breath the hedgehog felt some relief at the sweet scent of chocolate. He took a small sip before moving to roll himself in blankets on the large couch. With a long and noisy yawn he reached for the remote and pointed it at the large TV screen in front of him. Maybe there was something nice to watch while waiting for his roommates to get up.

- - - - -

When Shadow opened his eyes again, sunlight was gently glowing through the translucent curtains of the living room. Which meant it was probably kind of late already. It seemed he fell back asleep at some point.

With a frown, he rubbed his dishevelled quills and took a look at his phone. Almost 11am, and no sign of Rouge or Omega... This was odd, especially since they planned on spending the New Year’s Eve together.

That’s when he noticed an envelope lying on the small coffee table, next to his now empty mug. It was plain kraft, with a small card inside that only offered an address and the words “At noon, don’t be late hun”.

Obviously from Rouge. She loved putting mystery and drama in everything she did. Shadow huffed and shook his head.

Irredeemable.

Did that mean his friends got up without waking him and prepared some kind of surprise? However silly it was, this simple envelope brought some warmth to the hedgehog’s heart. He got up to take a quick shower and prepare for the day, a small smile peeking at the corner of his lips.

- - - - -

The location was one Shadow didn’t particularly recognise, a small intersection in a popular part of the town. Since Team Dark lived in a suburban area and their job at G.U.N was usually all over the world, his knowledge of the city was lacklustre. Right as his phone displayed 12pm a text popped up on the screen.

Rouge Right behind the shoes store, a cafe.

The striped mobian rolled his eyes with a hint of amusement. Even for something as simple as a New Year between friends, the bat couldn’t help making some kind of fun game to play. Shadow would gladly proclaim it futile and childish, but he actually enjoyed these quirky adventures his best friend always peppered in his life.

What he saw next filled him with pure joy. Of course Rouge wouldn’t choose a random cafe to meet. She had to make it extra one way or another, and she just knew how to please him.

The Gentle Garden Chao Café & Flower Shop

Almost giddy at the idea of having some sweets surrounded by chao, the ultimate lifeform stepped into the small establishment. A quick glance around made him happy beyond words: soft muted lights and warm colours complemented vintage furniture, large potted plants adorned all sides of the place, and —most importantly— chao of every kind were all over the place, either walking, being cuddled by clients or sleeping on small pillows.

In the back of the room was a large counter, behind which a massive chalkboard displayed both the cafe menu and prices of various flower arrangements.

Before Shadow could go and talk to the barista, a familiar face caught his attention. Rouge was there, sitting nonchalantly and sipping some drink in the most ostentatious way possible.

The hedgehog smirked and sat in front of her.

“So...?” he started with a raised brow. “So what? Did you think I’d let you stay home for this special day?” Rouge huffed between two exaggerated sips. “It’s just New Year’s Eve, not an anniversary or something...” Shadow said, glancing at the table.

He realised an order of white chocolate cappuccino —his very favourite drink— and forêt noire —one of his favourite sweets— were set in front of him. For a second he felt something rise in his chest. A mix of gratitude and that odd yet pleasing vulnerability he could only feel with his closest friends.

“I know it’s just the new year.” the bat leaned on the table, her eyes both tender and serious. “I also know you haven’t been doing great lately. It’s been a difficult time, and of course it won’t magically be over as midnight comes, but...”

She looked in the distance, her eyes piercing through the windows and their cold winter lighting. Shadow could very clearly feel the bittersweet essence of her expression. This year had also been hard on her.

“We’re in this together, y’know.” she resumed, turning a gentle smile towards him. “And while I can’t resolve every problem we have, I can at least invite my emo bestie to enjoy some chao and indulge in sugary treats!”

The hedgehog chuckled at this, then raised his cappuccino mug. “Let’s have a good time, then. To us bitches.” he said with a knowing grin. “To us bitches!” she exclaimed happily. ”Now drink that ‘ccino, we have chao to cuddle.”

Some laughs and friendly banter later, two chao had found their way on Shadow. One was sleepily nested on his legs while the other was playing on his head, brushing his quills curiously.

“You really have your way with them, just like Omega...” Rouge remarked. She loved the little creatures very much, but she never seemed to attract them as easily as her two partners. No one really knew why and she honestly didn’t mind. It was fun enough to observe them from a distance: no risks of ruined haircut or having one mess with her wings.

“This is the best.” the hedgehog whispered, his voice full of emotion. His friend chuckled. Shadow was endearing in many ways, but his love for plants and creatures was unparalleled in an extremely wholesome way.

“Did you ever consider adopting one?” she asked before biting into her remaining pastry. Shadow’s expression became slightly somber as he looked at her. “I…” he sighed and scratched the sleeping one’s head. “I always wanted to, I guess. Even on the Ark, once we learned about them with Maria, we used to pretend having one. There was a plush, I don’t remember its name. We would play parents, bring it along for walks across the Ark, this kind of things.”

Rouge nodded sympathetically. Maria was less and less a sensitive subject as years went by, but Shadow was still defensive about these memories. Sharing them was one of the most intimate things he would do, and she felt honoured every time it happened.

“Maybe one day.” the hedgehog shrugged with a tired smile. ”Right now our lives are too dangerous. I can’t raise one properly as long as we keep fighting and going on missions Chaos knows where. – Let’s hope we get Eggman and his clique once and for all, then!” Rouge said with a grin. “Can’t wait to have you pester us with photos of your ugly little baby.”

The genuine laugh that followed made the bat beam with happiness.

- - - - -

The very specific atmosphere of New Year’s Eve was not lost to the two mobians as they strolled in the city. Streets were bustling with activity, but in a way that felt distinct from other winter holidays. The ambient anticipation was less frantic, almost… solemn. Instead of rushing for gifts and food, people seemed determined to enjoy the final hours of this year.

Shadow found it interesting, not without its charm. He was more used to strolls in mountains, lonely forests and small paths undulating through fields. The buzzing activity of the city was something else —very nice, though. Plus Rouge knew every neighbourhood surprisingly well, and offered him little fun facts and stories about all sorts of buildings and places.

“It’s a real shame we don’t get more free time between G.U.N and Eggman.” the bat lamented. “There are so many nice spots I’d love to visit with Omega and you. – We do have vacations once in a while.” Shadow replied. “Yeah, but they’re either ruined by some apocalyptic event or by an intense need for rest.” she sighed. “We can’t enjoy the Museum of Arts if we’re falling asleep every two paintings.”

The dark mobian nodded. Technically Omega and him didn’t need a lot of sleep, but being world-saving heroes brought its own kind of mental fatigue. Moments of calm and respite were too few and far between.

“Well. Next time we have some days off we’ll organise a Team Dark afternoon.” Shadow offered. “An exhibit or two, some games at the arcade. Maybe a small concert at a cafe. – Oh my. Hun, I’m impressed to see you take this kind of initiatives.” the bat replied.

The hedgehog gave her a friendly nudge. “Shut up, can’t let you make all the decisions. – I don’t see why not.” Rouge shrugged with a knowing smile.

They suddenly stopped. Without really realising it, the duo had reached the large avenue leading back to their house. As they exchanged a glance, Rouge winked. “Omega must be waiting for us. Let’s move!” she said cheerfully.

- - - - -

An immediate wave of relief filled Shadow as soon as they passed the front door. “Finally some warmth.” he sighed, removing his large coat and thick scarf. “I was expecting your lowered body temperatures.” Omega’s robotic voice answered from the kitchen. “Hot tea and biscuits are ready for immediate consumption. Made with love.”

Rouge snickered and Shadow repressed a chuckle.  Both knew Omega was absolutely unable to cook anything without setting fire to it, so the biscuits were probably store-bought. They still appreciated the gesture greatly.

Everyone gathered around the table, remembering stories about the now-ending year and its numerous developments. Adrenaline-filled fights, obscure investigations and exhausting assignments went alongside hilarious mistakes, glorious teamwork… and even celebratory moments with all the other heroes of Mobius.

“Okay, but the award for the best party of the year still goes to Knuckles’ surprise birthday.” Rouge said confidently while helping Omega put on a colourful crochet beanie. “Ughh please. Let’s not talk about it.” Shadow groaned, knowing exactly where this was going. “It was extremely fun. The fireworks accident made it over 200% better than any other celebration.” the robot insisted. “Oh right, I almost forgot about that!” the bat laughed. “Poor Knuckie, having to deal with a fire hazard on his cherished island…”

Memories of the furious echidna shouting frantically brought a grin to Shadow’s face. “But!” Rouge added, ”I mostly remember someone having a few drinks too much and— – NOPE!” the hedgehog exclaimed as he brandished his hands. “No talk of this specific event shall happen in this house. Ever.”

Omega tapped his fingers on the table as he eyed his smaller friend. “It is a shame I did not record it for ulterior viewing.” Shadow’s glare was so intense the former badnik recoiled slightly.

“Oh well, it’s all in the past now.” Rouge mused teasingly. ”Good times, good times...”

- - - - -

The closet was absurdly full of useless trinkets and Shadow was very, very close to “fix” it with a Chaos blast.

Of course he wouldn’t, knowing how preciously Rouge kept all those odd items from her past. Jewels, foreign souvenirs, postcards, old plushies, photographs… All her memorabilia was kept there, in a mismatched mess mixed up with cleaning supplies, spare beddings and various tools.

“They should be somewhere near the bottom!” the bat shouted from across the flat. The hedgehog growled, his eyes desperately scanning the clutter in front of him. Finally he found what he came for.

Fairy lights. The essential accessory to any LRCS —Living Room Camping Session.

Shadow walked back to the main room, where a drying rack and several chairs formed a structure covered by sheets and blankets. Omega was evaluating whether the improvised tent was big enough for him. “It is perfect, Rouge. We will be able to fit within the designated comfy area.” he said before crawling underneath the colourful construction.

The hedgehog carefully hung the string of lights around and inside the tent before plugging it. Rouge grabbed some snacks and scuttled against the large robot, who fiddled with the remote until a title screen showed on the TV.

“Are we really watching this?” Shadow asked hesitantly. “Shadow. We all know your inclination for romance between organic beings. Please come cuddle so we can start the movie.” Omega said. “Don’t tell me you suddenly decided to hate cheesy fiction, sweetie.” Rouge added. “I would rather perish than lose your snarky remarks and teary-eyed spee— – Alright, I get it, I’m coming.” the hedgehog replied with a frown. “This better be good, though.”

It was everything but good. Outbursts of laughter and incredulous stares followed one another as the movie —a romantic parody of the famous blockbuster Attack On Mobius— kept getting more and more absurd. Omega threatened to turn himself off as he struggled to find any reasoning behind what was happening, and Rouge almost choked on her pop-corn near the end of the second part.

When the credits started rolling, the three buddies snuggled together. The winter night cold was no match for a group hug and thick quilts. Shadow eyed his phone and hummed.

“It’s almost midnight. – Does that mean we have to prepare a wish?” Rouge asked in a sleepy voice. “We don’t have to.” the hedgehog replied, glancing at his two friends.

Has to be an odd sight, he thought. A haphazard team with so many differences, united by pure luck in a challenging world. Chilling together in a makeshift tent in the middle of a flat like nothing else mattered. He closed his eyes and took a moment to appreciate the warm feelings. Being surrounded by such amazing souls for whom he really mattered. Knowing all the affection and dedication hidden behind that seemingly cold name, “Team Dark”.

“I wished for a pony.” Both Omega and Shadow looked at their bat friend with tilted heads. “What? They’re cute, I dunno.” she shrugged with a shit-eating grin. “What would you guys wish for? – Dual plasma swords.” the robot replied. “Maybe I should ask Miles when we cross paths again.”

Rouge rolled her eyes, then shouted curse words as she realised midnight was mere seconds away. Omega startled, making the whole tent fall on the team. The striped hedgehog quickly covered his muzzle with his hands, trying to suppress an irresistible laugh. No matter how hard life was, no matter the obstacles in his way, one thing was certain as the year came to an end.

Friendship was all he could wish for.

[idnek83]

First Christmas

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Soda Kazuichi/Tanaka Gundham

Tags: Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, Lots of causal smooching, No Smut, Implied Sexual Content, Alternate Universe - Non-Despair 

Summary: Soda and Gundham get ready for their first Christmas together. It's not much, and they definitely spent too much on questionable decorations, but, somehow, it's still perfect.

Read on Ao3

__________________

Christmas with Gundham was… different.

Neither of them had come from families where Christmas had been a huge thing. Soda was used to a discount tree and mismatched ornaments, some of which he had made himself with spare parts from the shop. As far as presents went, he usually got some new socks or something else practical, and, on years where his parents had the money to spare, a new screwdriver or wrench to add to his personal collection.

He had never woken up to piles of perfectly wrapped presents under an equally perfect tree, but he always enjoyed the day as a kid.

He had asked Gundham what his own Christmases had been like growing up, and between his eccentric words, Soda had gathered that they had had somewhat similar experiences: modest decorations and practical gifts.

The biggest difference appeared to be the “abhorrent feast” Gundham’s mother would serve every year.

“The angle who bore me created such fierce dishes; they would cause the toxins in my body to become so concentrated I could hardly withstand them myself.”

Soda cringed at the idea of spending every Christmas sick to your stomach, but couldn’t help but be touched by the idea of Gundham forcing himself to eat whatever his mother served him just so he wouldn’t hurt her feelings.

Soda usually just had take-out for Christmas, it was one of his favourite parts of the holiday.

But like he said, Christmas with was different.

_

At some point in November the topic had come up, and the two of them had started making plans for how they wanted to spend their first Christmas together.

They ended up going tree shopping at the beginning of December.

A little pop-up tree shop had shown up just down the street from their little apartment, and when Soda had seen it, he ran home and excitedly grabbed Gundham. He began to ramble about how he wanted to get the biggest, fullest tree he could carry, sweeping Gundham up into his arms as he did as if to demonstrate. Gundham had just laughed at him and allowed himself to be carried as Soda began to sing random bits of Christmas songs off key and dance around the apartment.

“While I am enjoying this ritual, my beloved, I do not see how it will procure us a tree.”

Soda blushed and place Gundham back on the ground, looking slightly embarrassed and, in Gundham’s opinion, very cute.

“Shall we?” Gundham reached for his boyfriend’s hand and moved to the door, watching as Soda immediately perked back up.

“Hell yeah.”

They made the short trek to the tree shop, Soda gushing about the amazing tree they were going to get the whole way. However, once they arrived and Soda actually got a look at the price tags on those big, full, amazing trees, his face fell. He knew they were expensive, but damn, they were really expensive.

Gundham had picked up on his disappointment, and began doing his best to make excuses for why the ‘amazing’ trees were actually subpar; a hole here, a strange lump there, and branches to weak to hold “proper seasonal embellishments” all over the place. Soda knew exactly what Gundham was doing, but just nodded along and squeezed his hand a little tighter as they looked for a more reasonably priced tree.

They ended up finding one that was somewhat sparse, but it was tall and had a good shape to it and, most importantly, was in their budget. After paying, Soda made quite the show of lifting it himself, hoisting it over his shoulder and flexing his free arm in an exaggerated manner to make Gundham smile.

It had been a little trouble getting it through the narrow halls of their apartment building, but a few minutes later, they had it set up in a corner of their home, undecorated but bringing a festive feeling to the space all the same.

Gundham noticed Soda’s previous bravado had died down and he was alternating between glancing up at the tree and down his hand where he was absentmindedly rubbing at some sap.

“What is wrong, dearest consort? Does this tree no longer please you?”

“N-no, it’s just… Well, I guess I just feel kinda dumb? I made a big deal about getting us the perfect tree and-“

“And you succeeded in doing so.” Gundham placed a hand on Soda’s cheek and kissed him. He was used to his boyfriend’s tendency to doubt himself, but that didn’t mean he was just going to let him do it. “Perhaps this tree has more space between its limbs than you had wished, but that will only make it easier for us to adorn it as we see fit.” He wrapped and arm around Soda’s waist and drew him closer, hand still on his cheek. “We shall create the most formidable display with it, we will be the envy of all who gaze upon it, and all will know us to be true masters of these yuletide rituals.”

Soda began to laugh as Gundham kissed him again.

“You’re right man, we’re gonna decorate this tree so good that it makes all our friend’s want to throw their trash trees out.”  He finally returned Gundham’s kisses, and they both decided to spend the rest of the evening in their bedroom.

_

“We should probably buy some ornaments soon, starting to feel weird just having a naked tree in the corner.

After a very pleasant evening, Soda and Gundham had decided it best to leave decorating the tree for the next day, only to realise in the morning that neither of them actually owned Christmas decorations.

The weather had been bad that day, so they put off shopping. However, a week had now gone by and the tree remained bare.

“You are right, my love.” Gundham stroked Soda’s messy hair and kissed his forehead. “Should we wait too long, we may find an inadequate selection as well.”

Soda untangled himself from Gundham’s arms and the blanket he had thrown over them once they had finished making love on the couch.

“We could probably do it now, if you’re feeling up to it?” Soda waggled his eyebrows at Gundham.

“You know full well it takes plenty more to render me immobile.” Gundham flashed a smirk, half humorous and half suggestive.

Before Soda could get to wrapped up in the thoughts of the last time he had immobilized Gundham, making him scream over and over until he was too tired to move, Gundham stood up. He began to dress himself, laughing and tossing Soda his boxers when he noticed his boyfriend getting excited again.

“There will be plenty of time for that later, dear consort, but for now, the tree demands adornment.”

They had dressed, much to Soda’s disappointment, and headed to the store.

_

Once they had arrived Soda wished they had put off shopping for an entirely new reason. There were just so many options. If they had waited and there really had been fewer ornaments available, then at least I would be easier to make a choice.

Soda looked to Gundham, but he looked just as overwhelmed by the selection. There were aisles upon aisles lined with various Christmas decorations, and at lest two appeared to be solely dedicated to tree ornaments.

They shared a look before heading down an aisle at random, hoping they would know what they wanted when they saw it.

It had been at least 20 minutes. Soda and Gundham had walked up each aisle a number of times and Soda was starting to feel exhausted. They should probably just grab something at this point. The only thing He had really manage to decide was that he liked the gold ornaments best, but that still left way too many options.

“Gundham, I’m going to die if we don’t pick something soon. Please, just grab something and lets go.”

“If you are sure…” Gundham glanced at the closest shelf, considering the selection for half a second before grabbing a box of gold and silver ornaments. “Do these suit your desires?”

Soda loved Gundham so much. “Yes. Beautiful. I love you. Let’s leave now.” Soda kissed Gundham and took the box from his hands. He moved to leave but caught Gundham glancing to a shelf just a little further down the aisle.

Soda turned to see what Gundham was looking at. It took a moment, Soda was at the point where all of the ornaments were starting to look the same, but he was pretty sure he knew which set Gundham was looking at.

He walked over to the shelf and picked up the box of all black ornaments.

“These ones too then.” He proudly proclaimed and begin to walk towards the tills.

“Dearest… you do not have to do that. I understand my taste can be a bit… ostentatious…” Soda knew Gundham sometimes got a little embarrassed about how much he liked anything that looked dark and/or mysterious, but he also knew his boyfriend genuinely enjoyed that stuff too.

So he just squinted at Gundham and reached for a second box of black ornaments before finally heading for the tills.

Gundham chased after him, obviously a bit flustered. He kept muttering apologies and telling Soda he really didn’t need the ornaments until they finally made it home.

Once the door shut behind them, Soda took Gundham’s face in both his hands and kissed him.

“Done apologizing? Get it out of your system?” He stared at Gundham until he nodded. “Good. Cus I love you and your stupid goth style, and I think these ornaments are fucking sweet.” Soda kissed him again. “Gonna have the most badass tree anyone’s ever seen.”

Gundham was smiling again, a soft embarrassed smile, but a smile nonetheless.

“Shall we begin then?”

_

An hour later Soda had to admit that 3 boxes or ornaments may have been too many, but the tree looked awesome and he wasn’t going to complain.

Covered from top to bottom in black, with accents of gold and silver and some warm white lights in between, the tree was a sight to behold. Yeah, it looked extra as hell, but Soda really did think it looked badass. Hell, even if he had hated it, it would have been worth it to see the look on Gundham’s face.

Gundham was openly smiling at the tree, looking as happy as he had been on the day Soda had admitted his feelings to him, and it was making his heart melt.

Soda wrapped his arms around Gundham from behind, and hummed into his shoulder.

“Y’know you really do have good taste, babe.” He couldn’t help but playfully bite at Gundham’s neck, making him laugh a little. “You fell in love with me after all.” He blew a raspberry into Gundham’s neck and they both dissolved into a puddle of smiles and laughter.

_

It was tacky. Soda knew it was tacky, and he picked up a back up just in case Gundham hated it, but he couldn’t resist it.

He had been out looking for a tree topper, probably some kind of star since neither of them were religious and an angle would look out of place on their tree, which had been “imbued with dark and mysterious energies.” And he really had planned on finding a nice star, preferably a gold one with some black accents or something to match the rest of the tree, but then he saw it.

The tree topper was a hamster. It’s arms and legs were spread wide, so it was vaguely star shaped, and it was dressed like Santa. Soda had choked when he saw it. Then he immediately bought it, grabbing a more generic looking gold star only after he broke out of his ‘buying-a-stupid-thing-Gundham-might-hate-but-might-also-love’ haze.

Now, standing at in front of the door to their apartment, Soda felt unbelievably stupid. It had just been a dumb waste of money. Gundham was gonna hate it and make Soda sleep on the couch for the night to make him think about what he had done. Ok, well, whatever. He’d just show Gundham the back up star and return the hamster later, he never even had to know about it.

He entered their apartment and the tension in his body immediately began to fade. Gundham was in the kitchen, humming along to Christmas music and pulling something out of the oven that smelled like it might be gingerbread. He turned and smiled at Soda before returning to what he was doing.

Soda set down his bag and started taking off his winter gear. While he was hanging his jacket, he heard Gundham approach him.

“Did you find an adequate decoration, dearest?” He placed a slightly flour covered hand on Soda’s shoulder and bent to kiss his cheek.

“Mmhm, it’s in the bag-” Shit. He kicked off his boots as fast as he could and turned. “Wait, Gundham-“

“Oh, this is magnificent. Excellent choice, my beloved, dark consort.” Thank Hamster Jesus, Gundham had pulled the normal star from the bag.  “Hmm? What else did you-” Soda retracted his thanks from Hamster Jesus, he could rot in Hamster Hell.

Gundham gently set the gold star down as he starred in horror at the abomination that was the hamster Santa star.

“Look, Gundham, I can explain. I just-”

Gundham burst out laughing. He clutched the Hamster Santa to his chest and absolutely cackled.

“Uh, Gundham?”

Soda watched in horror as he witnessed what he could only assume was Gundham snapping and going absolutely bat-shit insane. He had doubled over and fallen to his knees, still laughing so hard that Soda was sure he couldn’t breathe.

“Babe?”

Gundham took a deep, shaky breath and wiped tears from his eyes before setting Hamster Santa to the side and extending a hand so Soda could help him up.

At least, that’s what Soda had thought he wanted.

Gundham pulled his boyfriend to the ground with him, expertly rolling Soda onto his back and pinning him below him. Gundham bent to kiss all over Soda’s face, laughing a little again.

“Um, so…” Soda was at a loss for words. Had he broke his boyfriend with the shitty star or-

“I love it. It is terrible and I do not believe I have ever loved an object more.” Gundham laughed a little and sat back on his knees, reaching for Hamster Santa again and allowing Soda to sit up. He turned it in his hands and chuckled.

“Uh, really? You sure it’s not too, uh, tacky?” Soda smiled a little and placed a hand on Gundham’s thigh.

“Oh, it is incredibly tacky. Were I freed from this mortal shell and once more able to access the full depths of my dark power, I still do not believe I would be able to find any object more so.” Soda frowned, but Gundham kissed him again. “And yet, it brings me great joy to think you saw this and thought ‘what better gift could there be to bring my beloved, than an abomination which depicts a fusion one of his most cherished dark beasts with the blasphemous idol of a once holy day.’” Gundham laughed again and patted Hamster Santa with more affection than it really deserved.

“Uh, yup, my exact thoughts, word for word.” ‘Hamster funny, give Gundham’ was close enough to what Gundham had said, right? “But really, we don’t have to put that one on the tree, we can just put it somewhere else, or return it, or-“

“This beast will adorn the most honored spot on our tree, and I will not hear otherwise.”

“But won’t it kinda ruin the, like, aesthetic?”

“It will make the aesthetic, my love, and we will place it immediately.” Gundham stood and pulled Soda up with him, giving him another kiss on his forehead before pulling him to the tree by his hand. He proudly handed Hamster Santa to Soda. “Do the honours, my dearest.”

Soda grimaced as he was handed the tacky decoration, he really didn’t want to ruin their tree, and besides-

“I can’t reach the top of the tree, where’s the-” He was cut off by Gundham wrapping his arms around his waist and lifting him into the air. Soda couldn’t help but laugh, he liked being picked up by Gundham almost as he liked picking him up. “Fine then, have it your way.” He (gently) slammed Hamster Santa on top of the tree and crossed his arms defiantly, playing up his fake annoyance.

Only to lose any semblance of actual irritation when Gundham hoisted him slightly higher and threw him over his broad shoulder. Soda let out and incredibly manly squawk as Gundham patted him on the ass.

“Thank you, my consort, allow me to express my deepest gratitude.” Gundham’s voice had taken a very familiar tone, slightly deeper than it already was, and Soda found he no longer wanted to protest as Gundham carried him to their bedroom.

_

Christmas day had, admittedly, been fairly similar to the Christmases Soda had growing up. No giant pile under the tree, and mostly practical presents. Emphasis on mostly, Soda thought as he leaned back against Gundham’s chest on the couch in his reindeer onesie. Gundham wore a matching one. It hadn’t been planned, they had both bought each other the same stupid onesie complexly by coincidence, and they had both lost their shit laughing when they opened them at the same time as well.

Even if the day itself hadn’t been all that noteworthy, Soda couldn’t happen but think this was the best Christmas he had ever had. The chaos leading up to it had been so new to him, but he already cherished the memories he had been able to make with Gundham. The tree hadn’t been the full, perfect one from his dreams, but decked out in their badass gold, black, and silver ornaments and topped with sweet, tacky, little Hamster Santa, Soda knew it was definitely more memorable.

The gifts hadn’t been huge, or extravagant, or expensive like the ones he saw in movies growing up, but they had been thoughtful and full of love and even a little silly. Soda couldn’t think of anything he would have rather received.

He leaned his head back against Gundham’s shoulder, and his boyfriend kissed him without looking away from the book he was reading. Soda let out a contented sigh.

Sitting in Gundham’s arms, surrounded by their questionable decorations and thoughtful gifts, and wearing stupid matching onesies.

This was a perfect Christmas.

[theriverpersonshadow]

Lamia Drama/Deltarune Semi-Crack Fic

The not-awaited, not asked for Lamia Drama X Deltarune crackfic that absolutely no one wanted, but might now find they want!

I played Deltarune Chapter 2 and just decide to write some silliness for fun. This is extremely non-canon to everything involved. Spoilers (kinda but not really) for DeltaRune Chapter 2.

Warnings for swearing, an extremely brief moment of existential dread, and one sexual joke.

As always, the species of lamia I use come from @vex-bittys

If this is your cup of tea, maybe buy me a Kofi?

           Susie stared up at the sign in front of them. “Kris. This…. Is this a fucking pet shop???” Susie said. The sign said “Caring Coils” and had a picture of someone part skeleton, part snake.

           “No! It’s a spring shop!” Lancer said. What else could “Coils” mean?

           “U-Um… I… I don’t know where this building came from???” Ralsei said. As far as he was aware, they had seen neither snakes nor springs on their journey, but apparently this was in Castle Town now! Somehow!

           Kris walked in. It was surprisingly bright for something in the Dark World, eerily similar to what it’d be like in the light world, but given that the main inhabitants seemed to be the apparent offspring of Jockington and Sans, just… What was even happening here.

           “Are these, like, half skeleton, half snake?” Susie said, walking up and knocking on the glass holding the Mamba. A dozen or so snakes suddenly tackled the glass, hissing at her. “Okay, not gonna lie, that’s kinda cool. You think they bite?”

           Kris just stared at the sign on the glass enclosure saying “Please Ask Before Handling – We Bite – Highly Venomous” until Susie got the hint.

           Regardless, Susie hummed, seriously contemplating sticking her entire hand in there anyways. “Hey. Hey Noelle, you dare me?”

           “SUSIE NO!”

           “C’mon, does venom even work on monsters?”

           “Hah! Clearly you know nothing. Monsters do not have blood and nerves to shut down the same way humans do,” Berdly said, strolling over to the Mamba enclosure. “They don’t even look that tough. Look! They’re worm- AAAAAAAAAAAA;LKJSDFLK;JDFA!” He had stuck his hand in there and immediately gotten himself bitten by like 13 Mamba. He flapped his wings, running around the room and sending bitty Mamba flying absolutely everywhere. Tiny battle cries filled the room as they chased after Berdly.

           “Um… Kris? Should we help him?” Ralsei said, watching the chaos.

           Kris answered No, deciding to instead head into the back. Unlike the skeletal-snakes who were snake sized in the front, this area seemed inhabited by skeleton-sized skele-snakes. Kind of. Most were shorter than Kris, except one Cobra who zipped directly by them with a weaponized mop in hand. Kris peaked back – looks like the cobra dude was mopping up the little skelesnakes. Cool, that’s been settled.

           They got a few odd looks as they browsed the area. It had snake things, and child things. Presumably for snake children, which most of these seemed to be. If not for the supplies and price tags, it’d be easy to mistake this place for an orphanage – which Kris could understand, who would want a Sans X Jockington baby?

           Oh hey, that one might be an adult. A particularly grumpy looking  skele-snake looked them up and down, them immediately flipped them off, “Oh great, I thought I was done with human shit. Or whatever the fuck you are.”

           Kris flipped him off back. What meaningful dialogue.

             Meanwhile, Ralsei was trying to figure out what he should do. In the few seconds Kris had left, Suzy had broken another enclosure completely and even more snakes were running around, not at all helped by Lancer and Rouxls mistaking the new lightners(?) for worms and trying to eat them. Berdly had been swiftly knocked out by the tiny swarm.

           Thankfully, something answered Ralsei’s prayers. He didn’t expect his newly found angel to be a 12-foot-something long version of the things causing chaos, but he literally started mopping up the little ones and depositing them into boxes. As soon as that was done, he gave them all an exhausted, withering stare, “Why. Just… why.”

           “Worms are tasty!” chirped Lancer.

           “These are not worms, we’re lamia,” the new person said. He sighed, straightening himself, “Where are my manners. I’m Nikolai. Apparently the rest of the staff disappeared, somehow, and I have no idea where we are, so forgive me if I’m a bit… in need of several of wines.” His “staff” uniform had been replaced by gold and white robes… and a small golden nametag declaring him “staff”.

           Rouxls pushed himself to the front. “I sympathizeth with thee mostly fullily, thine fellow worker of high class and generallyeth most terrifying stature.”

           “… I think I’m having a stroke,” Nikolai said.

           “Hey Yooooo. I Heard Someone Was Wanting Wine (alcoholic)? I Have Some Battery Acid Right Here!” the Queen said, holding her glass cup of battery acid. It exploded in her hand. “Oops Lol (amused)”

           “… I… I give up,” Nikolai said, laying his head on a table. Several of the bitties were chirping and giving praises, trying to tell him not to give up, but the Mamba were also trying to knock the box they’d been placed in off the shelf by all ramming the side of it at once. The chaos refused to be contained any longer.

           Ralsei looked at Nikolai sympathetically, going over and patting his back, “H-Hey, it’s okay! I’m sure between the two of us and Kris we can keep… order… Oh dear.” Everyone had scattered. It seemed that only The Queen, the unconscious Berdly, and Noelle remained in the room with them.

             The Queen looked into the bitty Papython tank. “Hey Is That You Trousle?”

           Trousle looked up at this new lady with the cool glasses, nodding.

           “Sorry You Came Eleventh In The Dragon Cards The Deckening Mini-Tournament Game But Dang Getting That Much Out Of Like A Billion People (Exaggeration) Is Dang (Damn) Impressive!” The Queen said.

           Trousle’s eyes widened, how did she know that?

           “Oh Yeah And Here Is This (based on search history: Sexy Dom Bitties).” It was a small domino with Mettaton legs sticking out from it.

           Trousle was silently screaming, but being him had the perk that he didn’t have to hold in his screams! They were silent by default. So he was just screaming and completely blush-colored in the face.

           “Oh And Emo Thrash Metal (based on search history: Emo Thrash Metal).” She deposited a small broken chunk of the Thrash Machine that had thrashed her giant robot’s ass which was inexplicably wearing eyeliner and had “it’s not a phase mom!” written on it.

           Meanwhile, Susie had joined Kris in flipping off Hux, and then Liam came.

           “Tch. I don’t know what you troglodytes think you’re doing, but we’re closed. Get out,” Liam hissed, putting himself between Hux and the intruders. They were not closed, but could you really be “open” when you had accidentally planeshifted to another dimension without the majority of your staff?

           “Yeah! Fuck off!” Hux hissed, throwing a double birdy.

           “YOU GUYS WANNA GO?!” Susie yelled, foaming at the mouth and drawing her axe. Liam looked injured, but if he was going to go around picking fights, she wasn’t going to stop him!

           “Oh please,” Liam said, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms, smirking far too smugly. “I would obviously win.”

           “OH IT IS ON!” Susie said, surging forwards. She and Liam both turned out to be too adept at dodging for this to go much of anywhere, and Hux and Kris just spent the fight insulting each other even after Susie and Liam got so mutually carried away they left the battlefield.

           Lancer had found some new kind of paradise: a plastic hammock full of dubious, blueberry snot flavored salsa! He paid no mind to the other person using the weird spa, just jumping in and plopping into the vat of goo.

           Oozy blinked owlishly at Lancer, then started laughing, “Kid? Kid, what are you doing?”

           “I’m claiming this spa as mine, you minty fresh bundle of mouthwash.”

           “Um… This… is my bed?”

           “No it’s not! This is a hammock, not a bed!”

           “… can’t argue with that logic,” Oozy said, shrugging. He wrapped lightly around Lancer, purring. That said, he couldn’t quite resist the urge to tease, “Wow, easiest snack ever.”

           “Thanks!” Lancer chirped.

           Rouxls Kaard then skidded down the hallways without ever adjusting his Trademark Pose, “HALT WORMTH! THEE SHALSTH NOTS EAT MINE PRINCETH.”

           Oozy, being a little shit, looked Rouxls in the eye as he lightly pressed his teeth to the back of Lancer’s head and audibly said, “Nom.”

           “NOOOOO! UNHAND HIM, THINE UNCLEANETHEST OF HEATHENS!”

           “Naaaah.”

           “I’m slimy!” Lancer chirped.

           Meeeeeeanwhile, Keith was laughing maniacally in a mix of sheer disbelief and genuine amusement as he dodged kicks from a living checkers piece, a small army of Pawns at his side. Too bad they weren’t from the same game.

             Some of the Queen’s butlers helped Nikolai and Noelle clean up the storefront from the burst of chaos (and Berdly). They still weren’t sure how they got there, but y’know what, even Nikolai cannot contain this, so he lets the kids who are old enough play around the area with some supervision.

           The Mamba immediately flock to the Dojo, Liam leading the charge, to prove their superiority over all. Berdly gets his ass beat there again. There are Papython in the bakery and Kings in the café, and, well, just lamia generally everywhere.

           A lot of the younger ones flock to Seam. Every child’s dream come true: a giant plush toy that can actually talk to you and he’s kind of just a big fluffy grandpa!!!

             Eventually just Kris and Hux are left inside, locked in a battle of wills and insults.

           “Like you’d even know what it’s like to not have fucking control of shit! To always be told what to do and what to be, and if you can’t, no one gives a fuck about you!”

           Kris: Act:

           Understand.

           They understand, they understand far too well.

           …

           Kris: Act:

           Kidnap.

           The snake boy is going home with them now. He screams, but he does not get a say in this. Bye.

[alto-angel]

in this post, i would like to present my thesis on why the song metaphor by the crane wives belongs to goro akechi.

"i've gotten good at leaning on metaphors": goro's speech as the detective prince is very flowery, exaggerated, and calculated, in order to please the crowds of people with their eyes trained on him at all times. public appearances, television shows, and interviews are all very important for his image, and as such he's forced to adapt his speech and choose his wording carefully to appease those watching. robbie daymond especially does a very good job of vocally pushing the line of politeness into a tone that sounds just a bit too sugary to be genuine, but not something u would notice unless u were listening closely.

"i've gotten good at living on someone else's page": much like the first line, this one can also refer to goro's public image. because he's put an immense amount of work into his life as the detective prince, he aims to please. or at least, he needs to act as though he does. in order to keep up appearances, he needs to be able to get a read of those around him and keep himself on the same wavelength as them. this also applies to shido—not only does goro need to please his fans, but shido as well, in order to stay one step ahead of him. goro is purposefully putting himself on eggshells every day of his life, and in order to keep that up as well as keep himself safe, this is what he has to practice.

"i cut my teeth on secondhand sentiments": goro is often forced to follow a script, or at least an embellished, public-friendly version of his own thoughts. the things that he says when acting as the detective prince are rarely ever his own thoughts as they would be presented in normal conversation. goro has to hide his true opinion of the phantom thieves behind crowd pleasing buzzwords, keep up appearances by catering his opinions, and even quotes philosophers and other literature ("to paraphrase hegel"). the things that he says as detective prince goro akechi are rarely ever entirely his own, and he's gotten very good at tailoring his speech.

"you can't trust a single thing i say": this one, i think, is fairly self-explanatory. the "you" doesn't just apply to the phantom thieves, but to those goro works with as well. what is it he says to sae; "to trick your enemies, you must first trick your allies"? he uses deception to get what he wants, but his primary motivation for it is to move his plan forward, and to protect himself. obviously, if he were honest with shido, he would've been killed on the spot. goro's proficiency with lies isn't just a tool he uses, but a defense mechanism as well. bc of his fear of and difficulty grasping the concept of opening up to someone, through that skill, he is able to keep himself closed off and in control (that is, until he meets akira).

"i keep my closet free of skeletons": this one strikes me as irony, personally. goro's closet is so full of skeletons that it's practically bursting at the seams. but as the detective prince, something like that just isn't allowed. he needs to play the part, otherwise he pays the price. as himself, as goro akechi, he's got so many skeletons in his closet that he probably can't open the door anymore. but as the detective prince, he has to uphold an air of perfection that seems unattainable to others. goro as the detective prince is the epitome of the culture behind the idolization of celebrities, and the way others place and expect them on pedestals of something near godhood, far above the rest of the world.

"cause i'm much better at digging graves": well, goro akechi is certainly no stranger to the art of killing someone without a trace. we have no idea how many shutdowns or breakdowns he induced over the course of his professional relationship with shido. but i also think this lyric in tandem with the one right before it could relate to goro's tendencies towards repression; the idea that he cannot and should not have any "demons" or "skeletons"—such as past traumas, meaningful relationships, or feelings that he's jammed down and shut the closet doors on, if u will—bc since vengeance is his only objective, then digging graves is his primary task, or the only thing he's good for, in his mind. the word skeletons doesn't have to represent mistakes specifically, but could also refer to how goro views his own heart and how he deals with his emotions. something like, he feels he shouldn't deal with all that turbulence, bc he's far better at warping it into anger—something that he's used to dealing with, and can easily rationalize. the more complicated emotions, not so much.

"but i always dig up bones in your sympathy": this is where i start connecting things to goro and akira specifically. another definition of sympathy entails two people who share an understanding of each other. doesn't that sound like goro and akira to u? so, if u take these lyrics to be from goro to akira, it feels to me like this one could represent his regrets/desire to leave his situation. according to rank seven of his confidant in royal, we know that goro is practically screaming for help before the events of sae's palace. unfortunately, as the player, we are not able to save him. but i think this lyric could represent his desire to connect with akira despite his better judgement—"dig up bones," as in; i'll still arrive at the decision to bury them in the first place, but bc we have an understanding, i'll show u as well as i can that i do not want to be doing this. and that's exactly how rank seven with goro plays out, through the metaphor of a billiards game.

"i can't trust a single thing you say": this could refer to the fact that both goro and akira are withholding truths from each other throughout their relationship, and since they are of equal standing, the same deception that applies to goro would apply to akira as well, albiet in a far different way. however, i can also see it as an unwillingness on goro's part; he feels as though he cannot trust akira not bc akira is truly lying to him, but bc there's no other way for him to rationalize the fact that akira cares for him and wants to spend time with him. as goro akechi, not the detective prince. goro can't trust the kindness akira extends to him not only bc he's used to conditional love (shido, foster parents, etc.), but also bc he doesn't feel as though he deserves it. goro does not have a very high image of himself, as we see later on, and it's easy to see throughout his confidant that he cannot quite understand why someone would want to spend time with him, and not the perfectly crafted version of him that he presents to everyone else.

"don't look too hard, cause you won't like the scars he left in me": the "he" here refers to shido. shido is the sole reason for all of goro's trauma and hardships. he has scarred goro more than anyone else in his life. and goro's sharing of these traumas is very limited: he opens up seemingly out of nowhere, before immediately retreating under the guise of things like "oh, that isn't like me," or "oh, am i bothering u?" such as the scenes that take place in leblanc and the bathhouse. goro cannot fathom the fact that someone (akira) would wish to get to know him, as he is, so he assumes that a normal interaction between friends is somehow too much transparency, and keeps himself at a distance. he mistakes his feelings for akira as hatred, right? obviously, that's entirely the wrong word to describe them. but if goro himself believes that he hates akira, he would likely believe akira to hate him as well; as evidenced by the fact that the dialogue options which give u the most points are the ones where u mention ur "rivalry"—bc again, goro cannot rationalize his emotions as anything other than negative; anger, hatred, etc. it's far easier for goro to blurt out the words "i hate u" rather than "i love u," or "i care for u," isn't it? and this is how he keeps himself at enough of a distance, although simultaneously feels himself drawing closer. emotional closeness is not something goro is well versed in, and bc goro has built his image on being talented and skilled, he refuses to reveal his shortcomings.

"i've gotten good at making up metaphors": the words here are only slightly different than the ones at the beginning, which i think works for goro's further descent into his deal with shido, and subsequent difficulty. instead of "leaning" on metaphors, he's completely making them up. it's more drastic, which could represent a sort of desperation. almost as if he's losing his touch—which we do see after the events of sae's palace, during the tv interview where he monologues internally about his backstory, and we start to really see how damaged he is. goro is frazzled and distraught, enough for it to visibly show, something he prided himself on being able to avoid.

"i've gotten good at stretching the truth out of shape": again, the same situation as before. similar to the beginning, with slightly harsher wording. the lies that goro is immersing himself in are getting more intense, and almost impossible to separate from. his "murder" of akira is a turning point, in a way; akira is the first and only character we see goro kill in what he believes to be outside of the metaverse. he's not only stretching the truth out of shape, but he himself is bent out of shape as well—this stuck out to me on my ng+ run; his sprites in the scene just after akira is reported to be dead from him to shido are very unsettling and absent, as if he's almost completely zoning out. it's a very jarring scene to watch, and i think at least part of that has to be due to the severity of his actions.

"and all these words are sweet and meaningless": this feels to me, if we're going by the timeline i've been suggesting throughout all this, like it's directed at shido. now that akira is dead and the phantom thieves are no longer a threat to goro's plan for revenge, he can focus his energy back on his original objective. goro lays it on incredibly thick in his scenes with shido, so much so that it sometime surprises me that he didn't realize shido was onto him. again with the more intense wording here, which fits with the events i'm corresponding it with.

"you can't trust a single thing i say": now this wording is exactly the same as the first time, but given the progression of everything i've talked about, i take this as a sort of last word to both shido and akira. goro intends to follow through with his vengeance no matter the cost, and this could read as a final nail in that coffin. the song repeats this lyric four times, as well. if i wanted to keep it up all the way up to the engine room scene, and go completely off the rails in the process, i could say that the first iteration of this line is an affirmation to both shido and akira that his revenge takes precedence, therefore it would be stupid to trust him. the second is an affirmation to himself that he is in fact doing the right thing, and everything will pay off in the end, that this is just the way things are supposed to be, as always. the third is a kind of plea, born from confusion, after he's defeated by the theives and they offer to bring him with them to take down shido, an offer he cannot fathom the reason for extending. a sort of "why would u trust me" in the form of "u shouldn't trust me." and the fourth would refer directly to goro speaking to his cognitive self; as he decieves the deciever, making it seem as though he is running back to shido only to close the bulkhead door and resign himself to his "noble" sacrifice.

i hope at least some of this makes any semblance of sense. put this song on ur goro playlists, goroboys.

[littleshebear]

Little Bird chapter 4

pt 1 | pt 2| pt 3

Ao3 Link

-/

Eva Levante meets a remorseful Amanda while Zavala gets a letter.

-/

Eva Levante has come to visit and thus, the orphanage’s common room is in a state of organised chaos. The Festival of the Lost will be upon them soon so Miss Eva has come to help them get started on decorations. Extra tables have been brought in and they’re already a riot of colour, covered in paper, glitter and foil. A few glue sticks roll off desks and begin to dry out on the floor, casualties of short attention spans and the excitement of an interruption to the usual monotony of their days.

Amanda sits in a corner away from the worst of the ruckus and looks down at the blank papers in front of her with an increasing sense of despondence. She’s not familiar with this celebration at all. Miss Eva had said it was to remember those who had been lost, “with joy and sorrow.” Amanda doesn’t feel like she needs reminding what she’s lost and while she understands the sorrow part, the joy aspect of it seems unattainable to her.

She glances around the room to try to glean some ideas from what the other children are doing. She sees mock candles rendered in cardboard, burning with ‘flames’ of orange tissue paper. Many of them create paper mock ups of some sort of round, orange vegetable she doesn’t recognise, only to then draw leering, grinning faces on them. It’s creepy. Why would anyone want that on their wall?

One of the other children spots her lack of activity and calls out, “Hey New Girl? Why aren’t you making anything?”

New Girl . It’s been months but she’s still “New Girl.” Amanda suspects that barring some major disaster in the City, she’ll always be the New Girl in the orphanage; refugees just aren’t arriving in the City anymore. She hears the stories, how she was the last to pass through the gates, how there’s no one left outside. She hears the jibes and cutting questions. Did you get lost? How could you miss the Traveler, it’s not like it’s tiny . They don’t say that to her face anymore, not since she channeled her frustration at their ignorance into her fists. She’d been put in detention for a week after that but it had been worth it. When her teachers sagely advised that fighting was wrong and asked if she’d learned her lesson, she’d nodded dutifully and said yes but that was a lie. There was nothing to learn, she was right. Those bullies had no idea what it was like out there. They had no right to pass judgement, no right to make fun of Ma and Pa or the rest of the caravan. They’d done their best.

That familiar, yet altogether unpleasant ball of heat starts to build inside her and spread up, through her chest, to her face and behind her eyes. She takes a deep breath and pushes her anger back down. She decides she wants nothing to do with this Festival of the Lost nonsense and opts on engaging in a totally different project. She sifts through her materials and picks out a piece of light yellow paper; not too garish, not too offensive, then picks out a dark blue crayon from a pot on the table. She wanted black but this is closest to that colour she has available to her. She leans over the table, nose nearly to the paper and begins to write, her little brows furrowing in concentration. After a while, she sits up to stretch and think about how to continue. It’s then that she notices Miss Eva standing over her, smiling and inquisitive.

“Do you not want to make decorations, dear?”

Amanda shrugs and covers the paper with her arms.

“Are you drawing a picture?”

She shakes her head. “Writing a letter.”

“Oh,” Eva says, with that exaggerated interest that grown ups always do when they don’t understand something a child is doing. “Who are you writing to, dear?”

She feels her cheeks warm with a blush as she suddenly feels very silly. “Commander Zavala.”

“You know the Commander?” Eva’s interest seems far more genuine now as she pulls up a chair beside her.

“Not really,” Amanda explains in an embarrassed mumble. “I made him mad.”

“Oh, what could you possibly have done to make the Commander angry? I can’t imagine that.”

She lists the all the things she could have possibly done to irritate Zavala and counts them off on her fingers. “Uhhm, I tried to steal from Executor Hideo, I keep running away from the orphanage and I snuck into the hangar and hid under a table.”

“Ah,” Eva tips her head to the side in agreement. “Yes, well. That would probably do it. He didn’t frighten you, did he?”

“A li’l bit, he’s pretty scary. But it’s okay, the monsters are scared of him too.”

Eva threads her fingers together and leans towards Amanda, her expression of quiet amusement switching to one of concern. “What monsters?”

“The ones outside,” she states matter of factly. “Y’know. The bad stuff beyond the walls.”

Eva nods seriously. “I do, dear. I do know.”

Amanda looks up from her writing with saucer-wide eyes. When she speaks it’s a low, conspiratorial whisper. “Have you seen ‘em too?”

“I was a refugee.” She hazards laying a hand over one of Amanda’s and looks gratified when the child doesn’t flinch. “I know exactly what you’re talking about.”

“The others ain’t seen ‘em. They don’t get it.”

“Is that why you run away?”

Amanda pulls back and makes a big production of neatly folding the finished letter in half. “This place gives me a stomach ache,” she finally answers with a shrug.

“Well. Maybe we can do something about your stomach ache,” Eva begins in an indulgent tone. “But you mustn’t run away. It’s not safe, that’s why Zavala gets mad. It’s his job to keep people safe.”

“I know,” Amanda smooths down the paper one last time before scrawling Zavala’s name across it. “That’s why I’m writing him.”

-/

Eva pops her head around Zavala’s office door after knocking. “Are you busy?”

Zavala raises an eyebrow in response. His expression is stony but the amusement is there for those who know where to look. Eva covers her mouth with her hand to stifle the embarrassed giggle that emerges.

“I’m sorry my friend, silly question.”

His expression softens and he beckons her in, “What can I do for you?”

“Nothing for now, all is well in the Bazaar,” she fishes a piece of folded, bright yellow construction paper out of her bag before she takes a seat. “I’m here as a messenger today.”

Zavala accepts the ‘letter’ with a confused frown. “What is - Ah. I see.” He smiles softly to himself as he reads, despite the childish scrawl and the myriad spelling and grammatical errors.

Dear comandur Zavala,

Sorry for trying to steal from exek execkyu Hidayoh. Stealing aint right I know that.

Im sorry I keep running away from the orfanage. I dont mean to worry no one, I just get I just dont like being cooped up. Sorry for creeping into the hangar. I didnt mean no harm. I wanted to see the ships. I like ships. When I grow up I wanna be an enj engani someone who fixes stuff. I hope I didnt get no one into troubble, can you tell the hangar folks that Im real sorry if I did?

Thank you for walking me back,

Amanda Nora Holliday.

Zavala finishes reading and fixes Eva with an incredulous look.

“I haven’t read it,” Eva holds up her hands and shakes her head. “I don’t know what it says, it wasn’t addressed to me.”

“How did you get it?”

“Sometimes I like to pop over the orphanage, for the children. Give them something to do, break up the monotony. Their little lives can be so regimented. Amanda asked me to give this to you. I couldn’t say no, she seemed so earnest and,” she summons her most matronly smile for Zavala, “Very concerned that she had made you mad.”

“Am I really that intimidating?”

“You can come off as rather brusque, I won’t lie.”

“I had no intention of frightening her, I just-”

“You worry,” Eva points out in a gentle interruption. “I know.”

Zavala takes a moment to glance over the letter before speaking again. “How did she seem to you?”

Eva’s smile fades. “A little isolated perhaps? I don’t think the other children understand her. Refugees are a rare thing nowadays. And she said the orphanage gives her a stomach ache.”

Zavala frowns, while Eva gives a sad smile at his puzzlement.

“‘I have a stomach ache’ is little girl-speak for ‘I’m afraid,’” she explains. “And she was less than enthused about the upcoming festival.”

“I don’t think it has been that long since she lost her parents. It’s likely still very raw for her.” He stares off into space, tapping the letter on the edge of his desk, lost in thought.

“I can keep an eye on her if you’d like?” Eva offers, breaking through his distraction.

“I didn’t ask-”

“I know you didn’t,” Eva chuckles, “You’re obviously worried about her but you’re a busy man. I often call into the orphanage, it would be no trouble for me.”

“You’re very kind, Eva, thank you.”

“Like I said, it’s no trouble,” she assures him, rising from her seat. “Have you considered my suggestion? About bringing the Festival of the Lost to the Tower?”

“You think it advisable to expose Cayde to dress-up games and sugar highs?”

“A small price. It would be good for you. You Guardians were lost once, too.” Eva opens the office door and cocks her head. “Think on it. For old Eva.”

“I will,” he nods indulgently.

Eva makes to leave before turning around to face him again. “Have you been crocheting lately?”

Zavala meets her gaze. There’s warmth and compassion there but Zavala knows it’s so keen and perceptive she could almost be an Awoken. “When I have time.”

“You look stressed.” She wags her finger at him as though he were a truculent child rather than a centuries-old immortal. “Make time!” She insists before showing herself out

[sonicranticoot]

About CTR, Money, and Both Together

Yeah I know I took a break. Regular types of posts to resume shortly. I haven’t actually ranted in a very long time (”Why does he have rant in his name, and never actually rants?”) but today’s...uh, news about CTR is such a hot topic in the Crash community I want to talk about it.

That being yeah. Microtransactions. How quaint. It’s 2019 and Crash Bandicoot has microtransactions. Absolutely beautiful. Mostly being that, a lot of you already know this but I’m making it even more blatantly clear. They’re not ok, but it goes a bit deeper than “not ok.”

One of my main reasons for being annoyed with them is that simply put, they hurt my trust in the game. Pre-launch, it was confirmed in several interviews there would be no in-game purchases or any of the sort and all content would be available in the game itself. Now it’s always possible Beenox really did mean they didn’t want to put them in and never did and they were forced upon by Activision. Although wouldn’t be the first time it has happened in the industry (as one example, Square Enix similarly forced them into Deus Ex: Mankind Divided at the last minute). publishers being willing to blatantly break promises made by the developers still paints a pretty bad message. Regardless of how it happened, it gives me reason to put less trust into Beenox.

It’s also a bit of a skewed priority here in my opinion that microtransactions are more or less taking priority in development. Of course we don’t know everything about what will be done in the patch that adds the content from the new Grand Prix but no patch notes like the last GP is kind of concerning. There are a lot of things aside from the Wumpa Coin system that are serious issues with the game, like no host migration making it very hard to actually find games at times, long wait times between online matches, invisible items, invisible walls, lack of online options, etc.

I mention online because online is obviously a part of the game Beenox and Activision are encouraging people to play a lot - not just with coins but also the increased Nitro payouts and the incentive of the championship leaderboard that gets you a kart/decal (the latter even for who got the kart in an earlier GP, giving them incentive to make the top 5% again). But simply put, it’s barebones, has difficulty functioning well, and the fact the game uses peer-to-peer instead of its own servers is a whole ‘nother kettle of fish.

I mentioned coins before, and I know I’m not alone in expressing this fear, but with the already mangled coin handling last GP’s patch (honestly exaggerated, it’s better in some places, worse in others, it has actually encouraged me to vote for different tracks online than pre-patch but that’s just me), and the inclusion of microtransactions and them being explicitly said to help fast track coin collection, there’s...reason to believe that coin payouts are going to suck more than ever. Or they might jack up the prices to get people to grind even more, sucking out lives of people with limited time to play the game, or take the “easy way out” and get them to buy coins. Of course you also have to take into consideration that CTR is a kid friendly game that has this stuff. FIFA, rated E for Everyone, in recent years has cost parents literal thousands of dollars out of their bank accounts. Now I am unsure if CTR would ever get that bad since to my understanding FIFA has gambling and lootboxes which CTR currently lacks, but the real fear of a kid not versed in money spending too much on coins is a real thing. Or, people just wanting to catch up real quick, and with no self control, plunging into buy out the store.

Then there’s how the store actually works at the moment with its daily deals stuff that can, to a new player, actually make their cash-earned coins into either a test of luck by buying repeatedly, or just waiting forever. There’s a million ways that microtransactions can ruin people’s experiences with a game I don’t know where to begin.

I’ve heard all the excuses. “It’s all cosmetics.” “It’s optional.” “People need to watch their money.” “It funds the rest of the game!” Well some people would say, those are all pretty valid reasons at first glance, I refute:

Yes. They are cosmetics. That’s always how it starts. What if that’s a skin everyone loves? What if you’re the one person who doesn’t have it? What if that becomes a problem?

Yes. It is optional. Honestly I do think it’s the best argument, because you can do what I intend on doing: not buying into them. Sometimes, though, it’s not that simple; sometimes things feel so excessive they begin to not feel optional.

Sometimes, simply put, it’s not that simple. Today it’s easier than ever for a kid to randomly jack daddy’s credit card. Some people have genuine problems with money and have no control over how they spend it. It’s not that easy for some people. Maybe it is for you. It is for me. But it isn’t for everyone.

You know what else funds development? Game sales. You already paid $40 up front (or $60 if you wanted Robot Crunch that bad, I didn’t) and I don’t think you should be expected to pay more just to ease out of a slog that, depending on purchase date, can take months. Activision (or EA or Ubisoft or 2K or Square Enix or Warner Bros.) isn’t exactly light on money anyway.

Back to the grind for a little bit. Yes. Coin rates for offline players suck. Online sometimes gives you good coins and only does so when it wants to work in the first place. I, however, have a different take on the grind. The grind only becomes a grind if you make it into a grind. If you’re having fun playing the game, honestly? That’s what any good game does, it makes you play the game because you like playing the game. A lot of games have things that take forever to do, but are praised in spite of that because of things like strong game mechanics. CTR has amassed a dedicated community in spite of its well-documented issues because, simply put, this game is great. I’ve put god knows how many hours into it, admittedly sometimes as an active grind (I hate those battle mode challenges for the Grand Prix), but much of the time, it’s because I love playing a great racing game in my favorite gaming series.

Of course, that’s just me. Not everyone thinks a game is just a game, and sometimes the game itself these days gives off that message. Games you buy from a brick and mortar store operated completely differently before mobile phone games got big. Once those did, and devs started putting things into them, it just hasn’t been the same for a lot of people. Today, you have to log in to an account to play Doom, a game released 26 years ago, not on phones but after you pay for it with your own money on consoles current as of 2019. Mobile games and free to play games always operated differently from console games because that’s their whole thing, they generally aren’t console experiences and vice versa.

In summary:

If you love CTR, keep playing it, because without microtransactions, you have a game with a lot of good content and amazing gameplay.

However, actual issues with the game should be prioritized over trying to nickel and dime people, and with any game - not just this one - this message NEEDS to be loud and clear.

It is important for developers and publishers to see on the same terms, so they same message is given to consumers.

You don’t fucking put mobile game mechanics into video games that existed 10 years before Angry Birds and expect people to not talk about them.

Monetization is bad in so many ways it can hurt people and imply things about everything about the game in all kinds of ways. No ifs or buts about it.

Have a good night.

[snkpolls]

SnK Chapter 112 Results

The chapter poll closed with 1706 responses. Thank you to everyone who participated!

RATE THE CHAPTER 1,664 Responses

No doubt about it, chapter 112 was lit. 77.1% of the fandom gave this chapter a top rating making it the third most popular chapter since we started the poll.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH

After more than 5 years reading these series I'm not sure if I can get any more broken than this, but Isayama-sensei surely will find a new way

Probably one of the most start to finish exciting and fascinating chapters we've had in a long time.

I have nothing but praise for this chapter and the discussion it has generated. Both Eren & Levi's parts were equally emotionally compelling. All in all I feel like crying in a corner now until the day comes with Mikasa smiles again and Levi stops suffering.

At this point, Eren is the greatest character in AoT, one of the greatest protagonists ever, Attack on Titan is one of the greatest manga ever and Hajime Isayama is one of the greatest mangaka ever.

Best chapter since 100 for sure. The EMA talk was delivered in the best and least expected way possible, and Eren absolutely killed it this chapter.

Can a manga chapter kill a person?

I've enjoyed lots of recent chapters, but this is the first one in a good while that I've loved all-out. Gimme dat good juice Isayama!

Eren whyyyyyy

I normally would have spent my time stressing out about Falco, but my god what a phenomenal chapter. 

This manga is the only toxic relationship i want in my life.

WHAT WAS THIS CHAPTER’S MOST MEMORABLE MOMENT? 1,669 Responses

Eren’s relentless roast session takes first with 28.3% of the vote. Armin punching Eren was second with 16.6% and EMA in the chapter vs. EMA on the cover was third with 14.6%.

Me crying this all through

The Titans falling from the sky

Zeke warming up then running away

My heart was absolutely broken for Mikasa. I want to pull her out of the manga, wrap her up in a blanket, dote on her and tell her everything's going to be okay. Eren, damnit, tell her you're sorry and that you love her!

I'm glad Nicolo admitted his guilt and wanted to atone/redeem himself

Let's hope Falco won't become the sink titan for now.

ON A SCALE OF 1-5, HOW DID THIS CHAPTER MAKE YOU FEEL? 1,653 Responses

A third of all respondents feel dead inside, while ¼ are still fully in denial and think everything will be fine. Either way, our psyches need some TLC. This question was brought to you by Betterhelp.org. #notsponsored.

Everything hurts and I'm dying.

HELP ME

I loved it but Im suffering af

it was absolutely depressing

this killed me inside

I want to die now

It hurts

Took my mental stability away😂👌💯

See y’all in therapy.

DO YOU BELIEVE ONYANKOPON IS INNOCENT? 1,660 Responses

When it comes to Onyankopon’s intentions, it seems we’re still as lost as ever. Over 4 out of 10 respondents don’t have clue where his loyalties lie. Nearly 3 out of 10 respondents think he’s trustworthy, while almost exactly the same amount of people think he’s full of crap. Also, there weren’t any write-ins about Onyankopon, but with everything else going in this chapter, we’re not entirely surprised.

WHAT DID YOU THINK OF THE EMA TALK? 1,649 Responses

Nearly 50% of you are not pleased with how the EMA talk turned out, while a little over 30% actually enjoyed recent developments. 15% of people now realize why we didn’t include “EMA talk” as an option for the “things you’re looking forward to in the next chapter” question (it was because we forgot, but I guess it worked out fine?)

3 words: God damnit Eren!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I loved it but it was awful, in a good way

Eren is obviously lying about hating them but until we know why all I feel is pain. Mikasa and Armin didn't deserve this.

Everything fell apart in the worst way possible

I don't buy Eren's words here, but I'm so satisfied at seeing Armin punching him in the face

I felt personally attacked, gutted, and murdered by Eren but I liked it

I was absolutely torn to pieces by it. Seeing the bond that they had/have grow and change, to seeing them go their separate ways is hard to watch, especially with the dreams we've seen them share and work to accomplish.

Eren has bad table manners

DO YOU THINK EREN IS CORRECT ABOUT ARMIN BEING MANIPULATED BY BERTHOLDT? 1,664 Responses

In our chapter 110 poll, we asked about why Armin wanted to touch Annie in the crystal. At that time, 26.8% of respondents felt he was being influenced by Bert through Paths.

Now, it seems more complicated. 62.9% feel like Eren isn’t correct, but not completely wrong about Armin being manipulated by Bertholdt. 18.1% think this isn’t the case at all, and 13.3% feel that Bert is influencing Armin’s actions.

He claims Armin is being influenced by Berthold. If Armin can be influenced by one titan, what about Eren with his three titans? I'm not sure he's being controlled but he's probably heavily influenced.

There's something more that we don't know about yet since we (and characters in the manga) are constantly being surprised by his actions. Eren's not wrong, but I don't think he's right either. He's saying he's doing everything out of his free will (cause I guess he's not ignorant about possible influences of the memories he has), while Armin and Mikasa are being manipulated, but maybe he's overestimating the power of his free will and accepts ideas that are passed down to him along with memories as his own. Or maybe he's really fully aware he's also being manipulated but uses it to his advantage somehow.

Also if Eren thinks that Armin being controlled by Bertholdt is a bad thing, he’s wrong because now Armin is two best boys for the price of one.

My baby Bertholdt is relevant again and I live for it

ACKERMYSTERY REVEALED!! DO YOU THINK EREN’S GOT THE CORRECT VERSION? 1,664 Responses

Ackermystery revealed! Or is it? 62% of respondents believe we only got partially correct information from Eren. 22% are confident Isayama is wasting no panel space on false information and 10% are certain that the information is flat out wrong.

I don't think he is totally correct. Mikasa's bond and strenght isn't solely explained by her ackerman DNA, as well as Levi. He awakened his abilities way before he met Erwin. Both of them aren't slaves of his DNA and destiny.

Partially but not fully accurate. I think there's definitely truth to what he said, but either not every... Ackerman... works the same or there are different 'levels' to the bond. He also definitely might have been exaggerating to be a douchebag, because I can't imagine how he'd think Mikasa was a slave to him when she's blatantly gone against him in the past, sometimes even physically hurting him to make a point or get him to stop doing something.

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF EREN’S EXPLANATION OF THE ACKERMYSTERY? 1,656 Responses

Nearly half of respondents feel that this new information adds another layer of complexity of the Ackermans’ relationships. ¼ of voters agree that it simply makes sense, while 13% are not the biggest fans of Eren’s explanation.

Eren just replied a harsh version of it (just to protect her and let Mikasa get away from him) OR he was manipulated by Zeke with this shadowy version of the truth behind the Ackerman family

I believe his explanation of things is warped; I think Eren's explanation has some truth, but his own feelings made him jump to conclusions (e.g. Mikasa's feelings are ALL based on her Ackerbond)

Eren only understands part of it. Mikasa unlocked her powers fighting the kidnappers but formed a close bond with Eren when he wrapped the scarf around her. Those are two separate moments.

He's lying, the ackermanns haven't followed the king for the entire time they have been inside the walls, he just wants Mikasa and Armin to stop blindly following and worshiping him

Let's not jump to conclusions, we don't know if Eren's lying or if he even has the correct information. Everything should be taken with a grain of salt.

I believe it's far more complex than Eren's half assed "explanation". While it is in the Ackerman genes to find someone to bond with, it's far from a master slave relationship.  And Erwin and Levi are a proof of that. If the slave theory was true, Levi would inject Erwin with serum, his dna would prevent him from allowing Erwin to die, because humanity needs him. But he chose Erwin. He chose to set him free. I think Eren meant that Mikasa was a slave for her feelings towards himx otherwise Eren looks like a complete idiot.

I think that he has very basic or oversimplified facts. What he's saying makes sense, but I feel there is a lot of grey area that he's not considering. Mikasa is still her own person. Her feelings toward him are genuine. Not to mention, Levi and Kenny both awakened the powers without an ackerbond, so....

DOES EREN BELIEVE THE CRUEL WORDS HE SAID TO ARMIN AND MIKASA? 1,657 Responses

At a near even split, respondents are either certain that Eren didn’t believe the hurtful things he said to Armin and Mikasa, or they are completely unsure. Less than a quarter thinks he truly believes in what he said.

I can't shake the feeling that this isn't 100% him. The hurtful words still feel like an act to push Armin and Mikasa away from him, rather than actually aiming to hurt them

what Eren said was gasp worthy. No one would have though he actually hated Mikasa. I do think that’s how he actually feels about Mikasa, as he said everything he will do is just him.

Whether Eren actually meant it when he said he’s alwaa hated Mikasa or he’s just trying to break the ackerbond, it’s too far, he broke her down and stomped on her repeatedly, it breaks my heart because Mikasa’s worse fear and true, she lost her last family member

Eren's words are not his own. Trust me.

I think that eren is TRYING to make his friends hate him by saying these things so when the time comes and he has to die, they won’t miss him as much. What I’m saying is, Eren is trying to be less connected to his friends so that his death won’t be too hard on them and they move on with their lives rather than having regret and mourning his death never continuing their lives the same way ever again

To be honest, I'm not all that surprised Eren would tell Mikasa what he did. While there are times that he has shown concern, friendliness, etc he's also had his moments of showing her some rather explosive anger. Whether it's real, all him or not, I don't know-nor am I concerned about it- but I do think it is something to be taken into account.

HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT EREN NOW? 1,653 Responses

30% of voters just want to understand what Eren is up to and are concerned about where his head is at. ¼ of voters think he is just plain full of crap, 22% find his actions unforgivable and a small 15% are ready for him to lead the country immediately.

Conflicted. Best written protag in a long, long time.

A common theme in this story is the need to do something monstrous for a perceived greater good.  We don't know what Eren's goals are yet and I'm content waiting to find out before judging him.

Eren is either poorly written or his mind has been altered by Zeke somehow.

I think it’s another interesting character development for Eren. The flashbacks showed that he was starting to see his friends this way. After gaining his father’s memories, that changed everything for him.

He is still good, he hasn’t changed in terms of mindset he has become more mature and is looking at things from a different perspective. People always relied on him to make the most important descision, now he’s doing it on his own like Kaneki if u ask me. It’s like when you constantly call someone a monster, that they aren’t. they will eventually become one

I wanna kick his ass

Boy he got good roast game, bUT BOI I WOULD LIKE TO STRANGLE HIM

If he's pulling an act, then it will make me like his character even more, but if this is Eren's true self then I want him dead.

He claims he's free. What's he going to do next, run around with NO clothes on? He's already been shoeless and shirtless, he may as well cross another line!

He’s my favorite character but good lord Eren what the hell man

Still my fave. He's a bit of a dick right now but he's just so damn interesting. I NEED to know what's going on inside his head!

Eren's behaviour in this chapter is so at odds with his character portrayal in the Marley arc, that I only hope there's an explationation later that'll make it all make sense from a characterization POV

WHAT BEST DESCRIBES HOW YOU VIEW EREN’S CONTROL OF HIS ACTIONS? 1,653 Responses

40% of respondents feel that Eren is likely not fully in control of his actions and believe he is suffering a combination of control from Zeke and control from one or many of the titans in his system. 17.5% don’t want to make any assumptions just yet, and at slightly less, 17% believe that Eren is perfectly in control of himself.

Free, but heavily influenced (not controlled) by memories

A combination of all three

He might be making his own choices but that doesn't mean he's free. He's still a slave to his own ideals in the end.

Eren is definitely influenced by previous titans, but being influenced by Zeke would be bad writing.

Zeke gave him (questionably true) information, and he has lots of voices in his head but he's still in control. He's doing what he believes he needs to do to save those closest to him, even if he knows it's wrong and even if it drives them away.

Dude doesn't know what he is doing right now, Eren.exe has stopped working.

I really don't know. This feels so much different to when he was slaughtering kids in Liberio of his own volition only a year ago, and now he's setting up his contemporaries, countrymen and friends for his own ends and i can't tell if this is genuine help me

The memories are of course altering his personality and thoughts but I don't think there's any kind of direct "control" over him. He's doing what he thinks is best for Eldia.

He is certainly being influence, but still free to make his own choices

Partial will, partial influence of Attack/Founding Titan

There is something wrong with him. But it's too early to tell.

Eren and Attack titan's personalities are merged now I think. But is Eren cooperating or completely against Attack's will is a big question. I like the theory that this titan will be the main villain at the end (the series is called after his name duh)

CAN YOU CAN ACTUALLY PINPOINT THE EXACT MOMENT HER HEART BREAKS IN TWO? 1,650 Responses

RIP Mikasa’s Heart 

How will Mikasa ever recover tho…

F for Mikasa’s feelings.

I'm broken like Mikasa

WHAT DO YOU THINK WILL HAPPEN TO MIKASA NOW? 1,647 Responses

A solid ½ of respondents are confident that this was Mikasa’s calling to finally break off from Eren and have a story arc apart from him. 20% believe she will ultimately choose to go to Hizuru in the end (or do you?) and 15% feel she’s just going to be broken for the remainder of the story.

Mikasa is approaching Reiner levels of suffering... I want her to prove Eren wrong so badly, and if that means beating his ass, then so be it.

Mikasa didn't deserve this

Mikasa better move on.

Mikasa ilu bby. Your love and consideration for others has been genuine and you're doing amazing sweetie. Don't get caught up in Eren's bullshit.

AT THIS MOMENT, WHO WOULD YOU MOST LIKE TO PUNCH IN THE FACE? 1,642 Responses

It was a close one but Flock edged out Eren as the characters we’d most like to punch in the face. Zeke and Isayama made a distant third and fourth. Popular write-ins were Armin (26), Gabi (35), Mikasa (10), all of them (14) and no one (11).

Myself, for always still returning to this series, despite Isayama destroying my hopes and feels time and time again.

Guys who destroyed the shit machine

All of above. No questions asked.

none of them are u crazy!?

Why isn't Gabi an option here?

I'm gonna pull a chapter 68 and punch myself in the face.

I picked Floch but I’d love to punch the shit out of Zeke and Eren as a close second and third

WHERE DO YOU THINK HISTORIA’S LOYALTIES LIE? 1,639 Responses

At over ⅓ of the votes, most feel Historia is either acting on her own, or is in cahoots with Eren and the Yeagerists. Quite a few write-ins felt her loyalty only goes as far as Eren, while another several said she’s loyal only to Ymir.

Daz the Winged Titan

Eren. But, that loyalty is wavering.

Her unborn child most likely. Everyone else has screwed her over!

Historia's loyalties lie with Paradis. She will probably side with anyone who can ensure the island's continued survival. She's clearly taking her role as the Queen seriously what with her pregnancy and all... :(

I might have an opinion on this if Historia had screentime to base said opinion on.

Ymir her secret girlfriend who cosplays as a farm boy

Even if I'm disappointed with her being pregnant because of Zeke/Eren's fault, I'm sure she'll rise again. She may have close friends in the SC, but she is loyal to Ymir. She'll live in a world where she can proudly say who she is.

WHICH OF THESE PANELS IS THE STUFF OF NIGHTMARES? 1,657 Responses

With 43.8% of the responses, the random scouting legion members being turned into titans was the most horrifying, followed by Floch’s… smile. Falco’s bathtime came in last place, but do you guys realize just how big that sink is?

*screams*

Zeke screaming like the furry monkey that he is and seeing Floch being a bitch was horrible too. The only thing that matters to remember is our cinammon roll taking a bubble bath🛀💗 what a cutie pie.

Falco is going to wake up like "wtf i'm in a sink"

You'll think I'm crazy, but I absolutely LOVE this Floch-villain thing. It was like I was waiting for that "smile" to happen. Most people hate him, but he may even be a more dangerous villain in the future.

WHAT DO YOU MAKE OF LEVI’S HEADACHE? 1,647 Responses

56.4% believe Levi’s head grab has nothing to do with his Ackergenetics. Of those, 29.2% attributed it to stress and 14.8% believe it’s not a headache at all. For those who believe his Ackerbonds are a factor, 27% attribute it to his bond with Erwin, while 25% cite a connection to Eren.

After all the trouble Levi went through to defend Eren, all the dead comrades who gave up their lives to defend Eren. Now Eren is in league with the very man who killed Erwin, Connie's entire village and many more people on Paradis. That's a recipe for a head explosion, nevermind a headache!

Both stress and the Ackerman headache of himself doubting the idea of continuing to defend Eren and uphold Erwin's promise of saving humanity and killing the beast Titan but his Ackerman blood tells him otherwise

He is tired as hell, give this man a break, I don't think he formed an Ackerbond with Eren, well I hope for his sanity that he didn't...I'll pray for him.

I don’t think he’s formed an ackerbond with Eren, but he seemed to believe Erwin and Eren were humanity’s hopes so whatever that means…

Little bit of the vow to Erwin, but also has a lot to do with the stress and all the lives lost for someone that may have betrayed them.

We've never seen Levi get a headache before and if that really is a headache in the same chapter Eren mentioned them I find it kind of silly.

I'm so curious about Levi holding his head and what it could mean. I hope that he can fulfill his vow to Erwin. Also that panel of him turning back around was beautifully drawn.

DO YOU STILL BELIEVE ZEKE’S STORY OF HOW RAGAKO VILLAGE WAS TRANSFORMED INTO TITANS 1,632 Responses

57.9% think that Zeke’s still lying about, well, everything, but especially the actual mode of transmission for his spinal fluid in Ragako. A little over a third felt he was telling the truth, and the rest of the write-ins don’t trust him farther than they can throw him.

Who believes anything Zeke says now (besides Eren)?

I do, but the reason why everyone froze up wasn't because of the spinal fluid: it was the gas. If someone just ingests the spinal fluid normally, the signs aren't completely present. With the case of the wine, they didn't add any toxins to it: just Zeke's spinal fluid. What Zeke said about how someone ingesting his spinal fluid getting a coordinate on his/herself afterword to make them susceptible to Zeke's Titan transformation scream is true.

The only firm evidence we have is that Zeke's spinal fluid was involved, Everything else is supposition... damn Zekerets...

I still have my faith in the theory that he was a fake doctor, who delivered his spinal fluid in the form of medicine.

I don't trust a single word that Zeke says. I'm guessing the gas was a misdirection to throw suspicion off the wine, but it could still have been true, because no one was eaten in Ragako.

Believe' and 'Zeke' should not be in the same sentence together.

All of the Above

ANY SUGGESTIONS FOR THE TITLE OF THE BOOK ZEKE HAS READ 7 TIMES?

This is our first question with only a write-in option and it happened because we weren’t clever enough to think of any smart book titles on our own. The fandom came through with 774 people providing suggestions. Here are just a few:

"How to be a key player and still not reveal your true goals to anyone 101"

"How to convince your captors that you're innocently reading a book while you're actually plotting your escape"

"Levi will make it out of this" and other hilarious jokes you can tell yourself.

“Eren knew Reiner would save Falco” and other lies to tell yourself!”

"So you have one year left to live. One Hundred experiences you shouldn't miss out!"

8D Chess by Zeke Jaeger

A Little Brother's Love: Garnering Your Sibling's Affection with Empty Promises and Frequent Deceit

Anarchist cookbook

Fantastic Beast Abs and Where to Find Them

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Zekerets

"How To Be The World's Biggest Douche". Floch also has a copy.

How to Take Over the World While Having Fun, for Assholes

My Mom Ate My Brother's Mom!

O brother where art thou

The Adventures of Wile E. Coyote & The Roadrunner, published by ACME

The beards and the bees.

When Levi comes about, scream and shout!

Where's Waldo? with Waldo already circled on every page

No, I just hope it’s the last book he’ll ever read

DO YOU THINK LEVI IS GOING TO BE ABLE TO FULFILL HIS VOW? 1,651 Responses

The majority (41.2%) of voters think Levi will (eventually) kill Zeke, but around a third aren’t sure if he’ll be able to. 27.4% think Levi will die, possibly next chapter, before he has a chance to avenge Erwin’s death.

Levi will probably die (although I wish he wouldn't), so I hope Connie kills Zeke in his place. That's my only hope.

Levi can't die before his vow has been fulfilled, or else I will be sorely disappointed.

I think Levi will kill Zeke, therefore fulfilling his promise to Erwin, but will die in the process :(((

Levi kill Zeke already!

Zeke will have to die at some chapter, because Levi will fulfill his promise. Even if he dies in another scene, the Mike-like ambush won't happen again.

pls don't kill Levi isayama

I WANNA SEE LEVI CUT ZEKE'S BALLS OFF THAT MOTHERFUCKING MONKEY I KNEW HE SHOULDNT BE TRUSTED

WHO ARE YOU MOST ROOTING FOR? 1,651 Responses

With a new faction appearing in the last couple chapters, 50.3% of respondents are still rooting for the Survey Corps to come out on top. Next are those supporting Eren at 25.7%, followed by those rooting for no one.

if there was an option 'just Armin, Mikasa and Historia' in the 'Who are you most rooting for' question, I'd have taken it

As long as Eren doesn't hurt historia I'm still rooting for him

Please give me Reiner i want him to save the day like the true hero he is

Eren is pulling a Lelouch.

I pledge allegiance to the flag of The New Eldian Empire, and to the Republic for it stands, one Nation under Eren…

friendship ended with Eren now Reiner is my new best friend

Amazing how Eren manages to become more and more irredeemable with every passing chapter. Hopefully the warriors and Scouts team up to put down him and his maniacal brother.

WHAT ARE YOU MOST HOPING TO SEE NEXT CHAPTER? 1,652 Responses

1039 (62.9%) Levi’s titan battle 742 (44.9%) Flashback of Eren and Zeke in Marley 717 (43.4%) Information about Historia 704 (42.6%) Yeager brothers in Shiganshina 540 (32.7%) Warrior infiltration time 513 (31.1%) Uhh... did Falco ever make it out of that bathtub

Levi’s titan battle is tops on the wish list followed by a flashback on Eren and Zeke’s time in Marley. Information about Historia is third.

Some Goddamn insight into Eren's mind. (It's been 2 years Isa COME ON)

I would literally sell my soul to the devil for an Eren POV, a flashback to his time in Marley and an explanation of what the hell he's doing and why

Eren apologizing for hurting best girl's feelings

Floch getting shot in the face.

Floch kicking ass

So wait- did they really just leave Falco alone, naked, and probably Titan juiced in the restaurant? :(

Hange taking Mikasa Historia and preferably Annie and flying off to the Bahamas for an eternal vacation away from everyone's bullshit

Levi's survival and maybe a nice cup of tea.

Armin Vs. Eren Titan Battle

WHERE IS BEST BOY REINER BRING HIM BACK

anything nice...

WHERE DO YOU PRIMARILY DISCUSS THE SERIES? 1,594 Responses

Reddit still reigns supreme with 44.3% of respondents, but Tumblr made a slight comeback up to 18% over only 11% last month. “I don’t” is third with 10.5% and 9.8% are lucky enough to discuss the series in real life.

ADDITIONAL THOUGHTS ON THE CHAPTER?

Lots of revelations, lots of suffering :(

Why Eren? Mikasa loves your stupid ass, ackerbond or not.

Friendship ended with Eren. Now Armin is my best friend.

I can't be more proud of armin he is my baby forever.

Amazing so far still hoping EM is a thing but its looking dim, Eren is now my waifu despite him being a jerk I love how much the dude doesn't give a shit.

Armin's gonna take at least a year to explain this shit storm to Annie once she wakes up

ARUMIKA/JEANKASA LIFEBOATS HAVE TONS OF ROOM! BE PREPARED TO ABANDON SHIP!

EMA was one of the main reasons why I was into this series and seeing Eren hurt MA like that makes me want to quit the series entirely.

Eren baby please get your shit together. Also fuck Zeke and Floch.

Eren becoming a villain was hinted since chapter 25 and by numerous characters (Levi, Annie, Reiner, Eren himself, Zeke - all before the timeskip). So Eren is probably being genuine, especially since the words he's saying to Mikasa and Armin are the same he said to Carla in the first chapter.

Eren did nothing wrong!

Eren hates that he has influenced Mikasa for so long. He's trying to break the Ackerbond so she can choose for herself in these trying times.

Eren is a bitch but I still love him

Armin and Mikasa did nothing wrong to deserve hear that crap of him, of all the people, the one who has 3 titans + a crazy half brother to influence him. Is Eren free? HAHAHAHA NOOOOOOOOOOOPE.

Even though I'm not the biggest fan of EMA what Eren has done is completely unacceptable, Zeke running and screaming is my mood, and please please please don't kill off Levi now Isayama or I'm gonna stab a bitch.

I'm heartbroken. I don't believe Eren hates Mikasa, and I'm sure he knows it. I won't pretend to understand his motivations at this point, I just know he's lying. The look on his face says it all. But Mikasa, my poor sweet girl. I wish she didn't have to go through all of this pain. Someone give her a hug ffs.

I found it funny when Eren was like “we’ve never fought, huh? That’s because I’d BEAT YOUR ASS!”

I love Eren but by god am I worried about the way the character is being handled. I hate the idea of him being so manipulated that he's almost a totally different person, I hate the idea of him being controlled and losing his agency... both of those just feel like cheating for a plot twist, y'know?

I love Isayama, but fuck him.

I think Isayama knocked it out of the park with the EMA scene. That shit will be remembered as the Grim Reminder 3.0 in matters of writing once this series is over.

I think this was a great chapter. What I find amazing is how quickly people stopped talking about Gabi after this chapter. While you might say that it's because she wasn't the focus, I think it's partially because of her (lack of violent) reaction to Eren. I think she clearly has more depth now and I am wondering what her role in the story will be.

I wish Jean had been at the table when Eren said that stuff to Mikasa.

I'm incredibly worried for Levi's safety, along with Mikasa's mental health and Armin's physical health. Eren's words created wounds that aren't going to heal quickly; It's going to take time. I'm beyond infuriated at Zeke, and I hope he gets what he deserves.

I’m not sure how I feel about this series anymore because this chapter. I get a almost a years worth of Gabi, Galliard, and Zeke whom I really don’t like and then when the characters I actually like reappear they become jerks, fools, or they bite the cursed dust. I know I sound so salty lol.

Floch being a douche beyond my wildest expectations, Eren's entrance, the fight, the tears, the child who had no reason to be there caught up in all of it, Zeke running away like he was some kind of Looney Toons' character. Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. This was the most enjoyable chapter in a very long time.

Seeing Gabi terrified of Eren while he was talking to Mikasa and Armin was amazing, she finally realizes that this is the person that was responsible for the attack on Marley. Eren is this devil that she was told that she will need to kill, but when she is finally in a room with him she is full of fear.

Zeke, that jerk. Once I get his hands on him-

Eren... I still like him a lot, but damn, that was such an intense roast he did toward Mikasa and Armin. I think it'll lead to some interesting development for the latter, but I really wonder if Eren was really bluffing his hatred toward Mikasa and has an ulterior motive behind what he did. That'll be interesting to find out!

When Levi said a long time ago "It might rain Titans", do you think Zeke read his mind through paths and made his thoughts come true? Other than that, Eren's villainy is continuing. I'm not sure whether to cackle "Let the world burn" or cuff him around the ear for making Mikasa cry!

This chapter has DEVASTATED me. I already heard warning bells when I saw the cover with EMA being so adorable, and hated being proven right when the chapter came out. The bond between EMA was the thing I rooted for the most in this series, the purest thing in the SnK universe. Eren and Armin have both died for each other. Mikasa would have too, if she wasn't already an immortal goddess. The strength of their bond is something that has been made apparent since chapter 1. Together, they are almost unstoppable, invincible, and Isayama has taken even that away from us. Thanks, I hate it.

Every part of this chapter was brilliantly executed. Although, I am somehow always surprised at how wildly different reader interpretations end up being whenever Isayama teases us with purposeful ambiguity. This chapter was extremely polarizing, but as always, I think the answer to the truthfulness of each of Eren's claims (hating Mikasa, Ackermen being robotic slaves to their bond, being free, etc.) is somewhere in the middle.

[ladyloveandjustice]

Reflection on Attack on Titan: How the narrative failed its characters

I did a breakdown of how Attack on Titan failed the potential of its premise due to its commitment to being edgy fascist garbage, but I also want to talk about how it failed a bunch of characters who were brimming with potential.

(This is gonna be messy and loooong, because I have a lot of feelings. Someone on the last post noted my “rhetoric blows” and I will freely admit I’m not really trying for coherent “rhetoric” here, I’m just venting my frustration so I can get it all out of me and move on).

Yes, it wasn’t solely the premise that drew me and so many others to Attack on Titan and its potential. There were a lot of unique and exciting elements with the way this shonen manga handled its characters.

I said before that Isayama never cared about his characters, but that was a bit of a exaggeration. I think he did start out caring about some of them...it’s just he quickly got bored with them and started treating them solely as tools to serve the “plot” and the screwed message he wanted to impart.

Isayama does have one strength as a character writer- he excels at  showing characters who are messy, flawed and selfish but nevertheless sympathetic. Nobody in Attack on Titan is a classic unselfish “pure” hero, they are all deeply flawed. Isayama’s characters were compelling in the beginning because of that. He allowed his characters to exhibit cowardice, he allowed them to fail spectacularly, and that made Attack on Titan stand out. Despire the melodrama of their situations, actions and personalities, there’s a rawness to (most of) his characters that fits the horror of the setting.

Even the protag Eren, who a lot of people dislike or find easily the most boring character (honestly I found Levi the most boring though), has this ugliness to him that makes him distinct from the billion other teen boy protags in shonen. He is genuinely unstable and honestly a bit disturbing, as this collection of weird murderfaces he makes shows (behold my post popular aot post, ah memories).His obsession with killing Titans was unsettling, it was the classic determination of a shonen hero through a screwed up horror lens, this kid ain’t all right.

Historia especially resonated me because she was TRYING to be that classic pure heroine- but she was selfish like everyone else deep down. She just wanted to be SEEN as an pure-hearted martyr who sacrificed for others, when really all she was doing was giving into her suicidal urges. It was criticism of the very concept of the “immaculate woman”, and that’s pretty cool. So was the fact she was seen through by Ymir, someone who embraces selfishness in all other aspects of her life but is ultimately selfless when it comes to her love for Historia...that’s some good shit. It’s fantastic as a character concept, and Ymir and Historia’s initial character writing and backstory will stick with me because it was genuinely good in all its melodrama. 

Historia and Ymir were nuanced queer characters whose relationships were fleshed out well. I do believe Isayama put care into crafting their initial arcs and developing them.

But then we run into a problem. A problem that eventually we run into with every character in AOT. Isayama stops caring about them. After their initial big arcs or moments in the spotlight or backstory reveals, he just doesn’t know what to do with these characters anymore. So they completely disapppear from the manga or fade into the background only to matter again when he decides to kill them off for some cheap shock moment. Either that, or they just exist to further the narrative of how the military is cool and we have to exterminate all our enemies and blablabla.

 Because he ultimately cares about that narrative far, far more than he does giving these characters the full stories that resonate, make sense and are effectively paced. He's completely willing to undo all the character work he did previously if it means he can be edgy or impress his ideals on the reader.

That’s why Ymir and Historia have this dramatic parting that gets the audience pumped to see what happens to both of them and when they’ll reunite...only for Ymir to just completely disappear from the narrative, then be killed offscreen without even really re-entering the story again. That’s why Historia has this whole big arc about reclaiming her agency, resisting her abusive family and learning to live for herself...only to be intimidated into becoming Queen even though she’s not super into it, because she needs to serve the military and NOT live for herself after all, I guess? And oh, now she’s numbly accepted her duty to endlessly make babies for the sake of the nation! Turns out her real purpose is to be something for the other characters to be sad about. 

Isayama got bored with Historia’s arc and Ymir’s arc and their relationship. He may have fun coming up with characters backstories and the big dramatic moments, but once those are over? He doesn’t care enough to do the work to conclude their stories. He gets distracted by his next plot point, his next action scene. The characters are toys he discards or breaks for the sake of either some edgy ‘anyone can die!’ moment or to push forward whatever new stupid plot point he’s thought up for his fascist narrative. (Links to evidence of Isayama’s views in this post).

Even in the (dumb) sense of “oohhh doesn’t this impress life’s cruelty upon us”, Ymir’s death is a failure. When she’s been gone from the narrative so long, to have it suddenly be like “oh, she died” just makes for a reader feeling confused and cheated, not devastated. It becomes painfully clear she’s an afterthought to the author, a loose end that needed to be cut. Same with Sasha’s recent death, I saw no sign she’d been anything but background in the narrative for a long. looong time before she was killed off.

 Heck, look not further than Annie, who has now been trapped in crystal for what, 800 chapters? It’s been YEARS, both in universe and out. It’s honestly FUNNY at this point that she’s still fuckin’ in there, literally just frozen until Isayama can decide what he wants to do with her.. I hope the manga ends with everyone dead and then 1000 years later Annie emerges like “hey guys I’m back!” Then a meteor hits her or something. The intrigue surrounding her fizzled out a long time ago, yet Isayama still expects the reader to care whenever that hunk of rock shows up?

Let’s bring it around back to Eren. There were a lot of interesting directions he could have actually gone as a character, had he been forced to actually, y’know, deal with the fact he was channeling his grief in an unhealthy way or his worldview had ultimately been challenged at all. But Isayama actually agrees with Eren for the most part, he does think enemies should be exterminated without fail and genocide is cool and stuff. So Eren’s development throughout 800 chapters was just to ultimately get more and more obsessed with killing enemies, to the point where he doesn’t even enjoy seeing the ocean for long before deciding that was more important. Only his targets are definitely people now, and he doesn’t care about children or civilian casualties anymore, and yeah he’s screwed up, but doesn’t he have a point???? You can almost hear Isayama say this.

 Eren exemplifies how Isayama approaches character development. He allows his characters to get more ruthless, more calculating, more fucked up, more comfortable with killing and torture as time goes on, but they can’t develop in a positive way ever- if they start going in that direction, it’s time for them to either die or regress. Nobody’s allowed to find any sort of lasting happiness, nobody’s allowed to become softer or kinder. “Cowards” (like Armin or Sasha) can become “brave”, but they’ll eventually lose most of their softness and empathy too. But that will be excused at every turn, because that’s apparently the price, the sacrifice of being a soldier. It’s “necessary” and it’s something Isayama very obviously admires. “Bravery” trumps compassion, soldiers must be ruthless to win and in the end, any growth is meaningless.

To be clear, a lot of negative character development isn’t a bad thing and “anyone can die” narratives aren’t either (though both are very tricky to pull off without losing audience investment- if you know it’s all just gonna be suffering, why keep reading?). But even when your story has those elements, you, as an author, have to have some respect and perspective in regards to your characters and Isayama has neither. He AGREES that his characters terrible actions (like torture) are necessary, because he thinks what Japanese soldiers did to Korean civilians was A-OK too...so it all just comes off as sickening.

And in a story, even if you’re trying to impress that death is random and arbitrary, that your story’s world is dangerous for everyone, those deaths should still mean something to you. the author. Otherwise the reader can’t feel their impact. It shouldn’t be easy to kill off a character. It shouldn’t be simply because you’re bored, or don’t know what to do with them- yet Isayama has openly admitted what he does. A character ceasing to matter, and then dying, has no impact. A character must matter up until the moment they cease for their death to matter.

( And lbr, if “anyone” could really die in AOT, the four main characters wouldn’t have gotten a million miracle reprieves by now).

It’s not surprising it ended up this way, though. It’s not surprising a man who has no sympathy or compassion for victims of war crimes has no sympathy or compassion for his characters and slowly drains them of their humanity as the story goes on. His love of war and domination is more important to him than human beings, and that comes through in his narrative, where characterization takes a backseat to his love of depicting war and violence, of impressing its necessity on the reader.

The characters of Attack on Titan deserve better than to be embedded in this cynical, cheap, fascist narrative. Fortunately, there are a ton of stories out there, and you can find similar characters with authors who actually care about them and aren’t openly fascist. For instance, while thinking about Historia’s arc and how good it started out, I remembered that one of my favorite narratives has a very similar main character. If you like Historia and wish she had a better narrative, I encourage you to check out the anime or light novels for The Twelve Kingdoms.

Similar to Historia, Youko is raised in an oppressive environment and constructs this entire personality around the idea of being an ideal good girl who lives for others, even though deep down she didn’t really care much for the people she was pleasing. When she’s stranded in an unfamiliar world, she slowly finds who she really is- and she’s pretty hardcore. She comes into a royal position of power too, but needless to say, it’s handled much better than Historia’s arc in AOT. 

True, she’s not explicitly queer, but there’s no explicit love interest either (the anime does add a “crush”, but he disappears pretty quickly and she gets over him amazingly fast), and ton of strong female relationships in the story too, that don’t end with one party dying and the other becoming a baby machine. And it’s written by a woman who’s never openly supported war crimes, so. 

So yeah, there are so many better options than Attack on Titan, and so many better ways these character concepts can be used. If you’re as disappointed as I am, it’s important to remember that. These character were failed, but characters like them can still be given the narratives they deserve.

Here’s the final part of this series:

The final reflection on Attack on Titan: How the narrative failed its potential in regard to gender and queer themes.

[douxreviews]

Pride and Prejudice - ‘Episode 4′ Review

“Perhaps the beauty of the house renders its owner a little less repulsive, Lizzy.” “Yes, perhaps. Perhaps a very little.”

In which Darcy writes a letter, Lydia leaves for Brighton, Elizabeth takes a trip, and Darcy goes for a swim. Contains spoilers.

Episode 4 is my absolute favorite episode of the series and it’s not because of the infamous lake scene. Well, it’s not just because of the lake scene.

We begin with Darcy’s letter. This miniseries is the only version of Pride and Prejudice that I’m aware of to show the contents of the letter being acted out and not just read in voice over. I think it adds a lot. We get to see Wickham and Georgiana together which enforces the creepiness of his pursuit of her. He’s at least ten years older than her and it’s just gross that he would attempt to seduce a child for her money. We also see shots of Wickham and Darcy at Cambridge. I really like this little inclusion. Wickham’s actions towards the Darcys might have been explained by need or greed, but the scene at Cambridge helps make it clear that Wickham is just not a good guy and there’s really no excuse for him.

We also flashback to Jane and Bingley. Charlotte’s words of warning to Lizzy regarding Jane’s reserve prove themselves true. Darcy believed Jane was not in love because she did not seem to be in love. I’ve always found this a weak justification. Darcy disdains the other members of Lizzy’s family because they are too open and too loud with their opinions. Now it turns out he ruined Jane’s happiness because she was too closed off and too quiet about her opinions. Pick a side, Darcy. In addition, Darcy explains away his coldness by saying that he is (for lack of a better word) shy around strangers. Isn’t Jane just exhibiting similar shyness with Bingley?

Although Lizzy has clearly been crushing on Darcy for awhile (whether she admits it to herself or not), this episode is the one where she really starts to fall for him. It’s ironic, considering we begin the episode with her disliking Darcy as much as possible. The entire episode is about Lizzy softening to the idea of Darcy. His letter gets the ball rolling. He does little to acquit himself of wrongdoing in Jane’s case, but at least manages to explain away Wickham’s intense hatred. I like to think he partly wrote the letter to Elizabeth to warn her away from Wickham. It’s more than just pride that inspires him to set her straight, that’s for sure.

Furthering Darcy’s cause for him is his house mansion estate palace whatever you’d call that place and his effusive housekeeper. Yes, Pemberley does make Lizzy like Darcy a bit more, but I refuse to believe it’s in a mercenary way. It’s the little things that do it. For instance, Darcy still displays a miniature of Wickham, a man he absolutely detests, in what was his father’s favorite room out of respect. The furnishings of Pemberley also speak well for Darcy. While everything is beautiful and (one imagines) expensive, his taste seems to lack the gaudiness of his aunt’s. Perhaps he is not so obsessed with rank and fortune as Elizabeth thought.

Then there’s the housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds. She unknowingly does her master a great service by talking him up incessantly to a complete stranger. Elizabeth gets insight into Darcy’s character that has heretofore been unavailable to her. He dotes on his little sister, he’s been good-tempered since childhood, and he’s an excellent landlord and a generous master. Glowing praise, indeed.

Following this barrage on Lizzy’s dislike of Darcy comes the man himself. My favorite scene in the series (aside from the aforementioned lake scene) is when a sopping wet Darcy is surprised by the woman who very recently rejected his proposal of marriage and his awkward politeness to her. He is so shocked, he does not have the time to assemble his familiar shield of haughtiness and pride. It is the most genuine Darcy that Elizabeth (or the audience) has yet to see. He remembers his manners, asking her where she was staying and how her family is (twice) but is thoroughly unable to remember that her “condition in life is so decidedly below [his] own.” As a result, Elizabeth’s opinion of Darcy, already softened, is raised considerably.

Lizzy is clearly thrown by Darcy’s good manners at Pemberley and tries to goad him into being his ‘usual’ proud and disdainful self by introducing her aunt and uncle to him as her relatives from Cheapside. She is disappointed however, as Darcy behaves perfectly. Not a flicker of surprise or arrogance crosses his face upon learning the Gardiners’ situation and he expresses interest in Mr. Gardiner and invites him to fish in his trout stream. He is still not as affable or open as, for instance, Mr. Bingley (who could be?) but Darcy at home is a completely different animal than Darcy abroad.

The episode ends with the tenderest moment we’ve had between our romantic leads, in which he asks her to meet his sister. This is quite the compliment. Girls of Georgiana’s rank and age were often kept sheltered from all but the closest family acquaintances. Georgiana’s case is likely more exaggerated because of her recent attempted elopement.

In addition to Elizabeth and Darcy, this episode begins to feature Lydia more than previous episodes, with good reason. She is soon to become a rather important character. Whiny, petty, spoiled, and silly, it is a wonder someone as respectable sounding as Mrs. Forster would want her to accompany her to Brighton. Then of course, we see Mrs. Forster (who looks about 15). She seems just as silly as her friend. This is the woman the Bennets entrust the welfare of their daughter to.

Mr. Bennet’s character is clearly communicated in his allowing Lydia to go to Brighton. His conversation with Lizzy is very telling. He knows that Lydia will make a fool of herself and of the family, but cannot be bothered to prevent it. He wants peace in his home, whatever the price and he consoles his favorite daughter by telling her that her and Jane’s good manners in general counteract the silliness of her sisters. While Mr. Bennet’s quick wit and sarcastic quips make him a favorite character, it cannot be denied that he is a neglectful parent. He is lazy and selfish and would much rather sit in his library than go to any trouble for the benefit of his family.

Historical Context:

Darcy hand delivers his letter to Elizabeth because correspondence between two unmarried persons was considered highly improper. In Sense and Sensibility, several people assume that two characters are engaged simply because they openly write to each other.

Georgiana Darcy’s dowry of £30,000 was a huge sum of money and one of the largest dowries in Austen.

Lady Catherine seems surprised that Mr. Gardiner “keeps a manservant.” Male servants were not only paid more, the government had levied a tax on the employment of a male servant. Therefore being able to afford a male servant was a sign of affluence.

As the Bennet ladies discuss the possibility of going to Brighton, they seem very desirous to go ‘sea-bathing.’ Swimming in the ocean was a recent fashion and believed to be extremely beneficial to one’s health.

Bits & Pieces:

Of all of Austen’s novels, Pride and Prejudice is the one that features the most travel. Lizzy goes to Kent, Jane goes to London, Lydia goes to Brighton, Lizzy goes to Derbyshire, Lydia goes to London. This is because Austen had originally intended the novel to be in an epistolary format. I’m very, very glad she went a different direction. I find epistolary novels (particularly from this time period) incredibly tiresome. And, yes, that was directed at you, Samuel Richardson.

The actress who plays Mrs. Gardiner is the real life mother of the actress who plays Georgiana Darcy.

Favorite Moments:

Maria repacking her trunks according to Lady Catherine’s instructions.

Mr. Collins’s feeble attempts to make Lizzy regret not marrying him.

Lydia meeting Lizzy and Maria on their way home. She “treats” them all to a nice meal via their own money as she’s spent all her own on a hat she didn’t really like. How very Lydia.

The fencing scene, particularly the line “I shall conquer this! I shall!”

Lizzy’s first glimpse of Pemberley.

The lake scene, obviously.

Awkward, wet Darcy (Colin Firth has never been more adorable).

Pretty much everything that happens in Derbyshire, now that I think about it.

sunbunny

[topfygad]

Is It Harmless to Travel to Egypt in 2019?

I was startled awake in the center of the evening by a strange Egyptian male shouting loudly at me in Arabic.

He seemed indignant, but I couldn’t determine out what was going on. Why was he yelling at me? I stared back with baffled eyes, only discovering the power to mumble a single phrase.

“Huh?”

A lot more screaming. More pointing and flailing of arms. A small pack of Egyptian gentlemen had surrounded my seat on the bus and, even with the reality that I obviously couldn’t speak their language, they appeared to assume that shouting even louder would make me recognize.

“Is there a issue?” a regional lady across the aisle asked in English. “I was sleeping,” I explained to her, “and these guys just commenced yelling at me.”

She pointed at my ticket, indicated that I experienced been sitting down in the erroneous seat, and enable me know that this was incredibly much towards the policies. Seemingly, bus-goers are extremely really serious about seat assignments below.

The Egyptian mentality will take some getting utilized to. And immediately after only a single week of traveling there, I definitely can’t say that I comprehend it.

The tomato person of Giza.

The chicken gentleman of Giza.

On the nearby bus in Cairo a single working day, I struck up a conversation with a beautiful youthful Egyptian girl. Her English was approximately perfect and, following the standard pleasantries about exactly where we ended up from, her next question was, “What do you assume about the folks right here?”

I believed for a 2nd, and I advised her I experienced achieved some people who acted really intense in the direction of me, but that I had also fulfilled some of the kindest, most genuine people of all.

She nodded slowly but surely in considered, and then, immediately after a couple of times, she seemed back again at me and mentioned, “Good. Several don’t get to see the two sides. That’s the serious Egypt.”

Is Egypt Secure? This is the Actuality of Touring to Egypt

While Egypt is a widespread travel spot for Europeans, Egypt is not the initial place most Americans feel of when they’re getting ready to travel. And to be sincere, there’s great rationale for it. Not only is it a bizarre put, considerably from the reaches of knowing for most Westerners, but tourism in Egypt has dwindled to just about absolutely nothing right after turning into a conflict zone in the latest several years. Thankfully, that conflict has lessened and, in 2018, there is quite very little to panic.

Sunset from the roof of my hostel in Dahab, Egypt

Lantern Shop in Dahab, Egypt.

It is legitimate that there is terrorist exercise in Egypt. Our bus was checked for bombs. Officials questioned every single overseas passenger. Guys with huge guns and riot gear stood guard driving personal barricades on the aspect of the highway. Big police shields with bullet holes lay on the ground future to them.

In Dahab, I viewed as a drunk Arabic person was overwhelmed by law enforcement for resulting in a scene in community.

In Cairo, I encountered the most aggressive taxi drivers I have ever come throughout. At the Pyramids of Giza, the touts are a lot more than hawkish, and they are pretty, pretty clever. You’re going to want some thick pores and skin if you want to travel below. But belief me, it is truly worth it.

Outside the El-Hussein Mosque in Cairo, Egypt.

If you are thinking of touring to Egypt, this is the fact. There is conflict here, and you will face it in several kinds. But which is not to say you should not visit—I satisfied several other tourists in Egypt from all more than the earth. I fulfilled solo woman vacationers, scuba fanatics, and other basic ol’ typical people.

No, Egypt is not your standard getaway. If you want to journey to Egypt and take a look at the Pyramids of Giza, you ought to be prepared for what is waiting for you. It’s an within seem at a very distinct location of the earth, and an inside appear at what is actually going on in the Middle East.

But is it secure to journey to Egypt ideal now? The answer is relatively difficult to make clear.

Inside of Al-Hussein Mosque, Cairo, Egypt.

Is it Harmless to Vacation to Egypt?

Once on a time, the triangular Sinai Peninsula in Egypt was a popular vacationer destination for individuals from all around the Center East and even Russia. They would arrive from Israel and Moscow to scuba dive, drink beer, smoke weed, and social gathering on the seashore.

Having said that, these days, federal government web-sites mark the overall northern half of Sinai in blatant crimson. A lot of terrorist groups have been lively in Egypt, and each and every vacation warning for northern Sinai reads basically: “DO NOT Travel.”

Though I think many journey advisories to be over-exaggerated, the types in Egypt should not be ignored. Place blank, northern Sinai need to be avoided and southern Sinai really should be traveled working with warning. The moment on the mainland, just about anything east of the Nile River is frequently safe, whilst anything west must be traveled with prudence.

Cheeky banana person in Giza. He was all smiles

But I really do not imply to scaremonger. There are some locations which are not risk-free, but there are also areas in which are perfectly great. Search past the warnings.

What you really should be concentrated on is in which it is protected to journey, not exactly where it is not harmless to travel.

In accordance to GOV.Uk, “previous assaults have pretty much solely qualified the stability forces, their services and other governing administration properties.” As a tourist in these regions, it is not likely that you’ll have any difficulties. But the warnings are apparent, and any individual touring in Egypt should really at least be cautious.

Can I explain to you it’s definitely safe and sound to go to Egypt? No, I simply cannot, for the reason that if you go there and die, it would be my fault. But I can explain to you that I went there and I did not die. So, I guess you can make your decision primarily based on that!

For far more facts on no matter whether or not it is safe and sound to journey to Egypt, consult your community embassy. (USA / United kingdom)

If you are organizing on touring to Egypt—or everywhere in the globe for that matter—travel insurance policies is your number one safeguard against just about anything that may well go completely wrong. I generally use Entire world Nomads for ease of use, price and breadth of protection.

If you’re preparing to travel to Egypt, read our comprehensive Environment Nomads evaluate or use the type below to get a quotation.

Assembly Rami Elshaer

The 1st fifty percent of my travels in Sinai ended up performed on my own. I had just 1 7 days in Egypt, but I was identified to make the most of it. In Dahab, for four times, I relaxed in beachfront hookah bars and went scuba diving at the well-known Blue Gap.

This dive website, notoriously regarded as the most perilous dive web page in the environment, has taken hundreds of lives around the yrs.

One extremely awkward right away bus journey later (screaming Arabic adult men incorporated), and I observed myself in the business of Rami Elshaer, a member of a Bedouin tribe who now lives in the town just 100 meters from the Pyramids of Giza.

It was an early morning in Cairo and we sat down at a local cafe for introductions, breakfast, and a Turkish coffee.

Rami Elshaer and his son, Loai.

“When you are with me, you are my relatives, do you comprehend?”

Rami was explaining how his hospitality was likely to get the job done.

“Never consider revenue out of your pocket. If you try out to fork out as a tourist, you will fork out vacationer rates. When I pay out, I pay back local price ranges. At the end of the day, you will spend me back again. This is how it will perform. Do you have an understanding of?”

I nodded.

“And I will do all of the talking. If you have to have anything, just tell me, and I will make it materialize. Do you have an understanding of?”

Rami was stern but fair. He cared. He understood how factors worked and needed to make absolutely sure I would get the most out of my time in Egypt.

In 3 shorter times, Rami turned my Bedouin brother.

Thumbs up at the Wonderful Pyramids of Giza!

The Bedouins are a tribe of men and women who have been roaming the Center Japanese desert for thousands of a long time. Actually translating to “desert dweller,” they are a hugely highly regarded group of persons who are identified for protecting their conventional values and solid loved ones bonds.

Rami did not like to notify men and women he was an Elshaer unless of course he had to. He just wanted to reside out his lifetime. But, as he discussed, whenever he desired a authorities official to look the other way, 1 flash of his ID was all it took.

Camel on the edge of the desert at the Pyramids of Giza.

Rami’s father came from Libya and his mother from north Sudan and then Sinai. The Elshaer’s had been among the initial to settle by the Pyramids of Giza countless numbers of yrs ago, directing traffic and trade along the Silk Street, and they have remained below at any time considering the fact that.

It’s humorous because everywhere I went with Rami, I met a lot more cousins. Extra Elshaer’s. In Giza by yourself, I’m explained to his family members numbers between 2,000-3,000.

Pyramid selfie!

Rami paid for my Turkish coffee, took me to his house, offered me with a bed, and allowed me to dine with his loved ones for 3 days straight.

When I observed out that he would be sleeping on the floor, I insisted that he take his mattress back again and permit me to rest there rather. He demanded not, and refused to permit me to snooze any place apart from the significant bed in his tiny home, which was normally reserved for him and his youthful son, Loai.

The Pyramids of Giza, Egypt.

You see, as travelers them selves, the Bedouins are no stranger to supplying hospitality. When I asked Rami why he hosted people today from Couchsurfing, he informed me of his worldwide travels. He instructed me that the hospitality he been given overseas was existence-switching and that he preferred to devote substantially of his everyday living to returning the identical hospitality he experienced located.

These days, Rami spends his time raising his son, getting ready barbecues for his family members, and displaying vacationers the Great Pyramids of Giza.

Rami now goes again and forth concerning Egypt and Switzerland as he works to present a improved existence for his son. If you desire to make contact with Rami, electronic mail him at [email protected]. However he may not personally be equipped to meet you in Egypt (dependent on his program), his family—all of whom I met—are happy to demonstrate you all over and are some of the nicest people I have ever achieved!

Examine Much more:

source http://cheaprtravels.com/is-it-harmless-to-travel-to-egypt-in-2019/

[misterbokonon-blog]

DUKE

 DUKE

 BY PATRICK MARAVELIAS

  This is the only book I’ve managed to finish, trying to get it published right now.

   Written in honor of the late Hunter S. Thompson...The man who told me what to do

          DUKE

 BY PATRICK MARAVELIAS

         cHp-1

 I have always considered writing to be the most venomous of career choices.  It takes a certifiably insane human being to reach their grimy, unwashed hands into the depths of their brain, twist and jerk until something of substance lands on the page in front of them.  Most writers I’ve come to realize find themselves doing the bidding of the milk-sucking cretins running the news industry.  I for one have no intention of joining these ranks.  I chose and continue to choose to drunkenly stumble down the adjacent side streets, quietly observing all those who allow me to.  Whatever it takes to make it through this god forsaken wasteland we rest our heads in. Such a concept evades me until I truly feel alive enough to express it.  It was one time in San Diego that I really felt I was on top of the planet, as high as you could possibly get.  It was early morning.  My breath tasted of Mickey’s fine malt liquor and cigarettes when I woke up.  A woman with the personal aesthetic of the gods themselves pulled up to my doorstep in a brand new hybrid vehicle capable of speeds rivaling even the top sports cars.  This is of course, exaggeration.  We had very little time.  We had to get to the freeway before rush hour, or all the grimy animals of Los Angeles would swarm us like bees and never let us out of her grips.  My companion handed me a Budweiser, and we smoked endless amounts of cannabis out the window as horrified onlookers took their time gawking and cursing the names of the distraught teenagers obviously clinging for dear life to the chemicals they kept pouring into their bodies.  But they did not matter, we had a job to do.  On a weekend like this we had to let everything else casually slip aside or the whole group would suffer.  Luckily we had just the right chemical for the occasion.  MDMA, the ravenous drug of choice for ravers and lunatics alike.  There are seldom things more dangerous than the emotional constraints of a confused teenager with Molly coursing through his veins.  Or her, especially her for that matter.  Women tend to cling to the warm, inviting sensation of the drug more than men in my experience.  God knows why, either way the two sexes blend together perfectly under the influence, and so we did.  We arrived at 5 o'clock sharp.  No time to be wasted.  We flung our things about the 8 by 8 little cottage tucked away in the digestive tract of Ocean Beach, and immediately got down to brass tax.  We had two handles of Peach vodka before we had even left Santa Barbara.  Just over a gram of little white rocks to take the edge off, and a full-sized pepperoni and chicken pizza capable of feeding all of us for the entire weekend.  It sat untouched, there were bigger cards at play.  One by one we all went into the bathroom, and one by one we all came out.  You have never killed time longer than the 45 minutes it takes for good Molly to really bend you over.  The user experiences small, taunting hints of euphoria after about the first 20 minutes, and then you’ve all but shot the man who sold it to you before you realize you’ve left the face of the Earth completely, and there’s no going back.  I was smoking a cigarette listening to the ocean when it hit me, and it hit me like a fucking train.  I was a lost cause, it was my first time really experiencing the night air like this.  The atmosphere wrapped around my body in the most loving manner, and one by one everything around me began to shift to accompany the feeling of invincibility I had found.  Evenings of this caliber are often intertwined as I have come to find, by a succubus on all fronts, more beautiful than any woman who has ever shown you attention in the past who will proceed to come into your life like a fucking hurricane and leave as soon as everything is shattered on the floor around you; and the most sickening part is that the only thought crossing your mind is “My God, what a ride.”  She wandered in the living room ever so silently,` almost avoiding my gaze, I barely even noticed her.  My attention was focused for the moment on enjoying the company of my friends, including the aforementioned car driver, who in retrospect would have been a much better focal point for my attention that weekend.  No, this was much more plastic, she couldn’t compare.  She had a very soft voice which was the first thing I noticed about her.  Her eyes were deceiving, though I’m still not sure what they were lying about.  We spent the night drinking like war veterans on the beach, falling every which way as we tried to keep up with our respective experiences.  I expected her to take about as much interest in me as other gorgeous women did, which was normally enough to keep me occupied though I knew it meant nothing.  No no this was a much different affection.  It could have been infatuation, created from the terrible crystals we had eaten just two hours before, or it could have been two people genuinely connecting with each other on a common ground that we created and we made the laws for.  Nothing could stop us.  It felt as though we were wonderfully isolated on our little beach blanket; this was hardly the case.  It was a fairly populated stretch of shoreline, and even as the people passed they paid us no attention.  Why are they ignoring us, I thought.  We were a clear and present danger to ourselves as well as others, and any person of upstanding moral fiber would have had the decency to call the police.  But we didn’t need the police, nor did they need us.  Our respective methods of self-fulfillment would never coincide.  It was best left to the professionals, I thought.  Nevertheless, I averted my gaze from the streets and returned to my companions.  "We have to get the fuck out of here", I said.  “We’ve completely forgotten about the pizza.”  We bought two packs of cigarettes, a fifth of Jager, a handle of Amsterdam, and we were on our way.  We hung our heads as we talked with the neighbors and whoever cared to pass by.  My whole body felt electric, and the cigarettes were sedating me into complete immobility.  The night dragged on, she asked me to sleep with her.  Nothing indecent was to happen. We both knew it would be far too easy just to mindlessly fuck each other, that was for the dogs.  There is nothing, in the literary sense, worthwhile about meaningless sex, no one wants to hear about it; or maybe I can’t bring myself to put it on paper.  For the following two days my nights ended in the same exact fashion: extreme personal awareness, a deep sickening feeling that none of this was even real, and clutching her skin as though if I let go all life would be ripped from my body through my fingertips, and I would lay on the floor a useless corpse.  It was all a work of excellent fiction, but fuck reality I was riding a brand new Harley-Davidson down an uninhabited dirt road into the tie-dyed horizon and I wasn’t about to slow down just to realize I was right back in my apartment with the mind-numbing chatter of whatever was important at the moment to the students of UCSB.  Cattle, being herded and prepped for slaughter. The time I’ve spent here has been closely comparable to being employed as a zookeeper.  Animals, that’s what they are.  They move in packs in more ways than one.  Each student a pathetic little sperm clawing and fighting their way through the rest, just for a chance at scraping the wall of the egg at just the right moment at the right set of circumstances, watching as all of your peers fall away and die, one by fucking one.  The chosen bastard child is now expected to conjure up a good wholesome American life out of thin air and whatever training they paid attention to half-stoned, falling asleep in their father’s testicles, all for one low price of 34,000 dollars a year.  It is truly a fucking spectacle observing the rat race from a rat’s point of view.  The only trouble is coming to the realization that you are a rat in the first place.  I’m at peace with it, it’s more fun down here anyway.  I’ve always wondered how I would handle wealth or power,  I’d rather never know.  Stay vigilant, never die.  Continue on in this life as a godless wretch cursing the names of anyone and everyone contributing to the death of personal identity; the ones turning a once vibrant place into a white-washed dead zone of mutant, zombie drones who have been taught since birth that straying from the herd gets you killed.  What happens when the wolves waiting on the other side of the canyon greet you with smiling faces and two ounces of the finest cannabis money can buy?  These are the most welcoming people the world will ever know.  The doormen, if you will, to the vast, vibrant world of the drug community, which stretches all the way from casual weed smokers to crack-addled tweaks who roam the streets, useless to everyone but themselves.  They do not matter to the untrained eye.  However to someone who finds himself somewhere in between, in a confused menage-a-trois with reality, self-fulfillment and horrible synthesized concoctions of man’s imagination, these people serve a purpose.  What that purpose is may never be entirely clear, but I knew as I watched the tweak-ridden street freaks of San Diego that there was still some hopeless force of life in there, beaten into pitiful submission by methamphetamines, opiates, whatever it was.  I left with a lot to consider.  I left the girl knowing I would run across her once or twice again but that nothing we created that weekend would stick, which was fine, better that way.  The memory would stand as a lasting monument to the fight against the well-adjusted life, and that’s all that mattered.  The four of us hobbled back to the car we’d arrived in, and I spent the majority of the drive counting miles and number of glances I would nervously shoot at the only thing in the car I cared about, wondering what she thought of my antics that weekend, not that it really made or break us.  She was a curious little spitfire, who spoke abrasively and directly but not in the obnoxious overtones that accompany this behavior in every other example I’ve observed.  That was the thing about her. she really didn't owe anything to anybody. She was her own. She didn't give off the impression that she needed anyone, and it was beautiful. She was the one person I couldn't size up. I had no idea who I was or what to say whenever she was in a 20 foot radius. It wasn't so much infatuation as genuine, paralyzing affection. I was entranced by the fact that I could not for the life of me decide what was happening behind those eyes. Eyes that spoke to the way she carried herself. Strong, cautious, with a background noise of serious demons, and ever since I heard who she was and how she was I couldn't shake her.  I spent this last Thanksgiving with her and her family.  We spent the day playing with the little kids, eating home-cooked food, napping and passing the time together.  At one point we were walking around her front yard where these massive mushrooms had sprouted all around.  Naturally we began throwing them at each other, and I don’t think I’ve ever experienced a smile as big as the one I was wearing that day.  It wasn't so much that I wanted her I just wanted her to stay. Stay in my life, my thoughts, whatever it was. There was one time I took her up to this place with a nice view, with plenty of food and nicotine to last us a couple hours. I loved seeing her so uninhibited by day to day worries. She let a little bit of herself leak into that day and it made me so happy.  Nothing compared.  No one else, no matter how naked or easy could keep her out of my head. Even in the midst of pure lack of self and consciousness she was there. Not a longing, more stress. Is she ok, where is she, did she have a good day? Of all the vices I take part in she was the deadliest. Cigarettes have lost their buzz, drugs don't compare. I’ve come to the conclusion that most of my excursions were for the purpose of evading her, which in hindsight is the last thing I want to do. The idea I want to express most is the genuine kindness she emanated to people she trusted, although I got the feeling she never truly trusted anybody. That's all I want is to gain that trust. Nothing else matters, but at the same time gaining that trust means putting in hours, hours sharpening my swords and making sure she's taken care of, and not until I'm satisfied and content with who I am and where I am will I accept her trust. I don't deserve it otherwise, whether she sees it or not.  She gave me my first cigarette, my first experience with drugs, and some of the most fond memories I have of my youth. I could die tomorrow and we would still have that, maybe that’s all that matters.  Where does that leave me? It must have been shortly after my 18’th birthday, senior year. The most debaucherous of all the years I’d been alive, at the time at least.  I hadn’t tried liquor until then.  I watched my parent’s marriage collapse under the weight of them frantically trying to save it.  I wasn’t interested in sticking around for all the ugly details, it wasn’t my business.  One afternoon I hadn’t heard so much as a word from my father’s door for hours, which wasn’t normal for him, he was very inquisitive, and I say inquisitive rather than involved because he wasn’t interested in the answers, only hearing himself ask the questions.  I walked up those stairs slowly as ever.  He had been in a bare-knuckle brawl with depression, I half-expected to find him hanging.  It would have been much less shocking.  The man was curled up in a ball, weeping.  My blood began to boil, I was furious, up until my knees collapsed, and I lay on the floor and did the same fucking thing.  We sat for a while, not saying a word, weeping.  No more beating the dead author, but that day mattered.  It taught me to never crack, never show weakness, or they would eat you alive.  It also taught me that most of the things we spend our god-given energy on are worthless, and Humankind could get a lot more done if we stopped yelling “I THOUGHT SOMETHING” in everyone’s fucking face every time something that wasn’t already a hashtag pops into our brains.  The more you reveal the more vulnerable you are, which is fine, within the bounds of people you care about.  Everyone else is useless to you.  They don’t see how easily manipulated they are.  They are a malleable ball of clay that takes the shape of whatever thing the Internet decided to suffocate them with that week.  Puppets! Fucking followers! Cowards! You are the reason we’re dying. You are the reason for the putrid smell in the air.  Rot in the deepest pits of hell because you are useless to yourselves and everyone around you.  You are stale, moldy bread, and I would rather run myself raw with rusty barbed wire than sit in a room with any one of you pigs.  Don’t you see what they’re doing to you? They win you over with bright colors and buzz words because you are a trained fucking animal headed to the slaughterhouse. If you can make a man laugh you can get him to tapdance backwards over the Brooklyn Bridge without a care in the world until he plummets deep into the icy depths of the East River.  It is one of the intrinsic weaknesses of the human psyche.  Charisma is much deadlier than firepower.  Any idiot can sense the impending danger of a man waving a .38 magnum in his face.  It takes quick thinking and a sharp tongue to pick up the little bat-calls the man speaking with a hidden agenda sends out unwittingly.  He is the enemy, and you are never to trust him.  If you find yourself in the clutches of one of these reptilian creeps, remove yourself from the boat in a distinctly military fashion, swim yourself to shore and build a fire.  They can’t stand the heat, and it will keep them at bay, if only for the night.  I find myself thrown into the midst of these animals far too often around my apartment, and it drives me to drive elsewhere for the sake of my own sanity.  Recently I made the 529 mile journey back home for the long weekend.  I saw everyone I intended to, passed out piss drunk on my couch with a few companions as per usual, but it wasn’t until the last night that I finally rounded the corner of her porch and saw that face.  The three hours we spent, laughing and passing the time made every god damn hour I spent crammed in the backseat of that Chevrolet worth the trouble.  I left her house that night in a daze, furious that I had to return home the next day.  I’m still fucking furious.  Motionless, stunned by my own decision to move to this backwards little city, hundreds of miles from the only person that has ever occupied my thoughts for this long, unable to do anything about it.  Patience has never really resonated with me, extreme ADD might play a factor in that, which would also explain the spastic way I write anything.  If psychedelics taught me anything it’s that staying on the same train of thought for too long is unnecessary, and quite often people aren’t even listening.  I tried LSD two weeks after I moved out for the first time.  This would prove to be a hasty call that might have stunted my ability to think rationally for a while, but I don’t bother myself with such things.  It was the peak of my trip, I was wandering down the streets of Isla Vista, trying for the third time that day to find a slice of pizza.  I heard a gentleman mutter the word acid in passing to his fellow traveller, and so I asked him, he responded “Come with me.”  To the beach we went, and there I found 20-25 people, all tripping their fucking faces off.  It was a safe haven in the chaotic and frightening world I’d been thrown into.  I didn’t stay for long, they meant well, but there was nothing there for me.  They were on a different plane entirely. My mother called me in the midst of the worst throws my trip had spat out thus far.  I ignored the call, and sat on the floor of my shower in tears for the next 25 minutes or so, unable to make sense of my surroundings or emotions.  I was ignoring the woman who had given me birth because I was ashamed, and I knew the 200 or so micrograms of LSD pumping through my body would slither their way into my voice and she would just know.  The whole experience didn’t make much sense to me until a few months later when I began to pull myself together a bit.  I began to notice things I hadn’t bothered with before, details that mattered all of a sudden.  The infrastructure started to leave me with a horrid taste in my mouth.  I paid attention to nuances and patterns, and ultimately my mind feels more powerful for having experienced it. Enough about drugs for the time being.  They served their purpose, and I can’t fool myself into thinking I need them anymore.  That isn’t to say I am sober, far from it.  I have control now, that is what matters.  Too often a life of recklessly indulgent behavior gets intertwined with drug use, when really it’s a beautiful thing without it.  Watch people’s reactions as you walk by them smoking a cigarette, telling some story with as many arm movements as possible to your companion.  Don’t give them the satisfaction of giving a fuck that they are there, act as if it’s your intention to stir up unrest deep in the pits of the left side of their brain that they cling to so dearly. We don’t need your kind, die off away from me.  I need speakers in my ears so loud I can’t fucking breathe.  I need wind in my face and adrenaline coursing through my veins.  I need wheels rolling at high speeds on pavement underneath my bare feet.  I need people who aren’t stricken by fear, people who are at peace with the fact that they will die one day.  My mother always told me I refused to play the game, refused to put on a different face for anybody.  She loves and hates it about me, but quite frankly I am nothing if not authentic.  Hypocrites are the reason the world is suffocating from the grips of ad agencies and politicians.  These people make a living from manipulating the masses into doing the bidding of whoever is paying them, and that should terrify you.  My neighbor Larry just gave me a beer.  It’s exactly midnight on Friday.  

    cHp-2

 I am in a better place.  Day to day things are easier to make sense of and deal with.  I could just be getting older, and I imagine that has a lot to do with it. My life has evolved from the bloody corpse it was six months ago, and that’s something to be proud of.  I am more myself than I have ever been, but true self-actualization is still very far off.  The light at the end of the tunnel is an incredible motivator if you use it correctly.  In the last couple months I’ve gone entirely too hungry, blown all my money to see a girl that doesn’t light any kind of fire in me, which is more toxic than most people think, and above all I’ve been happier than I have ever been.  Whatever life throws at me everyday can’t affect me unless I let it.  I need to focus on that more.  Progress is progress and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.  I am in a better place, I am in a better place, I am in a better fucking place.  Fuck them if they belittle the little victories you experience because they’re everything.  If it gets you through the day it’s all you need to focus on.  Develop it, explore it, fucking manhandle it until you turn it into something worthwhile.  The last few weeks my mind has become drastically less chaotic, and the indiscretions that used to haunt me slip away without a fight.  My attention has been focused on the grotesque piles of rat shit scattered throughout the news.  I don’t often pay attention to the news itself, but as a journalist I would be foolish to not at least scan the events structuring the world I live in.  The police have taken on the form of alien cyborgs hell-bent on silencing the opposition.  The wind whispers that revolution is coming, although I fear the one’s leading it will ultimately be doing so with misguided intentions.  Meanwhile, our children fall asleep to the sound of their peers being crushed under the weight of the infrastructure their parents defend with their lives.  We, the uninhibited youth are willingly being beaten into submission.  But America is the greatest country in the world.  Never fucking mind that such a disgusting amount of money gets spent on new war machines every year such that institutions like the public school system, institutions that are essential to our own survival, are being beaten and strangled for the benefit of the swine making money from our suffering.  I will never work for you.  I will never sacrifice an ounce of happiness for money that comes from you soul-eating creatures.  Be warned, you’ll be the first to die when the people finally get angry enough to mobilize your skyscraper with machine guns and ski masks.  Cling to your foreign cars and cocaine while you can, and for every last one of you that overdoses I consider it a victory for the people.  May your families never mourn you, and your best friends fuck your wives stupid when you’re dead and gone.  Looking at things from a completely objective point of view turned me into a cynic, and an abrasive one at that.  Do not allow yourselves to be fooled by the glimmering lights and the airbrushed pictures of a life you will never come close to.  The torches they carry are fueled by deception.  Rob the bastards at gunpoint and use their torches to burn every last stone to the fucking ground from the inside out.  Every ad you are forced to watch is venom for your brain, and every last second you spend taking their bullshit seriously is another heavy blow to fight for free thinking.  Do not accept censorship in any form, fight for vulgarity, fight for realism.  It is such a travesty to allow yourself anything less that raw uncut information and knowledge.  Or are you too busy listening to the phantom faces on whatever god damned monitor you’re staring at this year?  We are standing in a burning building while the entire human race is arguing over how to fix a broken light bulb in the fucking lobby.  Lately I feel like I’m observing everything from behind a one-way mirror.  There is a tangible difference in how I perceive my own experiences, and it’s forced me to become a much more objective person.  Most of the things that used to escape my scorn end up turning to ash after being broken down into its individual parts.  I constantly look for genuine cogs in the giant plastic machine whirring around directly adjacent to my skull.  There are very few, but they exist, that’s something I suppose.  Those cogs keep me alive.  I guess I’m really just a cowardly human being.  Consequences terrify me.  I hate change but crave it constantly.  I raise my white flag too often, the card has been played too many damn times.  I think it would be beneficial for everyone if I traded in my sheep’s clothing for a wolves head.  I raise my glass to all who have made the transition.  The warriors that grab hold of their lives and do whatever they damn well please with it.  I will join you one day when I feel the time is right to make the world dance for me, and I say that with the best of intentions.  I solemnly swear to leave this world with a permanent imprint of my own choosing.  A subtle watermark that few will recognize.  The ones who do may dwindle over time, and I am at peace with that.  I only wish to have my voice heard.

  ChP-3

 I wish everything were black and white. that walls could be broken down effortlessly. I wish every building had a face and every man had a story. I wish I didn't smoke cigarettes, or maybe for a little peace of mind. I wish clowns would melt and cars ran on liquor. all of these things I would kill just to witness. all of these things I can't bear to imagine. if mankind came face to face with its mutiny in an alleyway, how overwhelming and gratifying it would be. if mothers didn't have to let go of their children, and the world continued to humbly revolve as it did before us. I wish animals would dance for us and that God would show his face for once. I wish for 5 minutes in solitude to collect myself. I wish rhetoric never plagued our mouths and only genuine words were spoken. It would really be quite fantastic, if every gun in the world were shot at once, if books were fireproof and could have a conversation with the reader. I wish everyone saw it their own way. I wish you to be happy my brother, go now and tell me what you find. We'll share a beer and talk about whatever's on our minds. Is anything else substantial anymore or have we reduced ourselves to creature comforts and security? Nothing is available to be defined you may as well accept that. Don't take it personally, death doesn't grant favors and drugs can't hear you talking to them. Relish the moments of clarity. I wish good people didn't die. I wish the trivial worries would resolve themselves, or at least leave me alone for a day or two. I wish mountains screamed and clouds said hello as they passed by. I wish every king met their Brutus, and their sins be rectified by the people. I wish for a brighter outlook, and the patience to accomplish the things I want to. Let the dogs bark and let the lighthouse burn out, you’re the only one who can help you anymore.  There’s a plane arriving at the Sacramento airport soon carrying one of the only things I genuinely care about.  I said my prayers over the safety of the flight.  Everyone has a prayer to be heard, a want or need to be fulfilled by the all-knowing power they speak to at night.  The concept of “God” is a tricky one.  Personally I absolutely believe there’s a God.  I also believe he’s sick of the hateful words we keep putting in his mouth.  Every religious text could be interpreted to parallel each other and the world would live in peace but everyone has to be fucking right.  If there is a God, he’s sitting in his recliner with a cigar and a scowl wondering when and how in the fuck his children got everything so damn twisted.  They promote love, yet beat it to death in a dark alleyway whenever it starts to peer through the windows.  They speak of a better world that they intend to burn down if construction ever finishes.  The word vice enters my inner conversation frequently, especially when it comes to religion.  Too many poor souls are walking without legs using their God as a crutch to explain why their shitty decisions and behavior ended up backfiring.  Then again the religious community has a lot of explaining to do, so it’s no surprise they came up with this piss-poor way of coming to terms with their own actions.  They all have their agendas, and personal instructions for how everyone else should operate.  I would personally cut off all of your tongues and still make it home in time to cook a big ass steak for my inner community.  We live inside shelters in the sense that the walls surrounding us become a haven away from the other way of things.  Our lifestyle is very particular because we designed it that way.  That’s why I inhale smoke throughout the day while I stay undercover in a five-seater watching the day unfold instead of trying to mold it myself, because it’s not possible and you look foolish trying.  That’s why we act like asylum escapees at stoplights because we crave that look of horror on your face.  That’s why we love security guards.  That’s why we relish every second of whipping our dicks out and pissing on the empire you so foolishly built with toothpicks.  Watch my wheels glide over your crumbling concrete ledges, no one’s paying attention to you.  Go back inside, pour a cup of coffee, then sit and brood about how much you hate your wife and feel the need to take your problems out on a bunch of kids to make yourself feel better.  That being said, I’m a grown-ass man and I won’t hesitate to bash that face in if you get worked up too quickly.  Both literally and figuratively I will ensure you remember that just because your feet touched soil first does not mean I owe you a shred of decency.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I have plans to sip fine rum and blow spliffs until I hit the floor and hopefully wake up in a day and age where no one bothers me.

         ChP-4

 Transparency is a very creepy and weird thing to learn to use on yourself, especially in circumstances where you have to for your own good.  When I was younger it wasn’t expected of me, my actions were never my own fault because I was young enough to escape blame.  Now that I’m an adult or whatever you prefer to call it I’m expected to theoretically process and adhere to my own errors. Having escaped any sense of reality or responsibility up to the age of 19, it was like being tossed into an angry sea of lethal rip tides and gut-crushing tidal waves.  I dealt with it the best way I knew how, completely ignoring it until it resolved itself in front of my face.  But when the consequences are getting heavier and heavier and the puzzle pieces won’t fit together anymore, it’s a race against yourself in the sense of how long you’ll continue to damage your own body and mind before you wake up and realize you are the tumor in your own lungs.  It’s a long, grueling stretch of sunburnt trail to run, but to the chosen few who realize they are thirsty and don’t have to run anymore, blessings on you and your self-drive.  Those of us still figuring out what we’re running from are very happy for you, genuinely.  It’s amusing to me that I can put all this on paper and still move around the maze as I do, but at the very least I can sense that there will be a day when I won’t feel this restless.  I’m sensing myself developing an ego and it’s about damn time in my opinion.  I’m understanding that people only wish to talk to me for what I have in my pockets sometimes, and sometimes those people are your best friends.  That’s the most fucked part of transitioning from child to adult, realizing how all the people you thought were so unique and full of love are now looking out for themselves, as I need to be doing.  The most grotesque face of death is the death of perception, the false idea that you are safe in stasis.  The ground beneath you is changing constantly and if you want to live I suggest you study it.  The hollow eye sockets of the working class should be sufficient enough for the average person to grasp the idea that all these fluctuations are predestined and controlled.  Whether by man, god or beast they are controlled; your job as their puppet is to convince your puppeteer that your strings aren’t quite as nimble as the others, and slowly but surely rally the other rejects to slit the old man’s throat while he sleeps.  Use caution my son, most people don’t quite have the stomach for a truly uninhibited life.  She’s an acid-spitting single unit of all three Erinyes who will only allow you to pass if you can pin her down and fuck the self-hatred out of her.  Only after performing such a task will you feel correct moving about the world in your own true skin.  Don’t bother reasoning with it, the things I speak of are far too ingrained in our limbic system, and you would be an arrogant fool to think your pathetic little attempts at freedom are enough to break the shackles suffocating your will to thrive.  The more blissful existence lays with security but the most invigorated euphoria known to troubled men is at the end of the tunnel if you choose to follow it.  I wish you nothing but quick feet and sharp wits my good man.

           CHp 5-

 The River Hades runs deep underneath my house.  Sometimes I like to listen to the poor souls beg and bargain, it reminds me to either get my shit together or start coming up with a damn good explanation for my behavior.  Hell seems like it’s a bit overdramatized.  Us good ol’ boys love a little evil right?  Crack your knuckles and aim for the jaw.  It’s only a matter of time until the prophecies begin to stop fulfilling themselves, nothing is completely consistent as they say.  Maybe I’m delusional.  The sparkle in my eye stays dormant unless it gets a whiff of something really maniacal. If there is a hell, the deepest pit is reserved for lawyers and police officers.  I would imagine God would be especially wrathful towards the people that play God for a career.  Nixon would be in there too if Duke had anything to say about it.  They’re probably having a beer as we speak, how wonderfully lighthearted.  Picture if you will a deer shot directly through the heart wounded walking down the highway.  He moves because he knows not what waits for him after death.  He moves with purpose, because wasted time is illogical.  Men move with the cocky upturned noses of wealthy white women with their mink coats and razor-sharp pussies.  They act as if their steps are destined to land where they do, as if the heavens would cease to rotate if those footprints were never there.  I move with the swift intentions of a mountain lion with an opium problem.  My mind swirls at the speed of death but my body is plagued by the repercussions of not believing I had more of a place in this world than the vultures.  My head is beginning to look upwards rather than towards failure, or so I’d like to believe.  I realize now that I am as able and ready as any man, and I will bear my cross to the edge of the water as instructed at birth.  The last time I put that cross down I came close to overdosing, suicide, self-harm and starving.  It never seemed that serious at the time but on paper it’s a heavy fuck of a list, one that I burned a long time ago.  Funny thing about ashes is that they never completely leave you.  The more ash you create the harder it is to breathe without cursing your own breath.  I tripped acid for the second time last night.  It started out very euphoric and sparkly.  We listened to hippies sing opera in the middle of the woods, and then we took more.  Thus began the introspective shit show that would ensue the three hours I spent alone in my room watching the stars on my american flag swirl around and around.  Her face showed up on the empty canvas a few times, and it was agony.  Right now there’s dark purple marks on his neck and you could give a fuck what happens to me, so be it.  I keep jaunting down the boulevard full-pace with a fire in my eye and a bag of drugs in my pocket, happy as can fucking be.  I took mushrooms with her not too long ago and a bum asked me what the meaning of life was.  It really annoyed me at the time that anyone would even care, or vocalize it.  It also made my immediate surroundings seem really chaotic as a result, and I had to go home where I ate candy and built a fort.  The lesson here is that safety eases your mind but should be rationed with the knowledge that it doesn’t truly exist, and you’re technically dealing with false currency.  The answers to the questions that plague you are located directly outside, whichever direction you choose to stride.  The more comfortable you feel in foreign situations the more equipped you are to endure the worst when it strikes.  Now to the matter at hand, I seem to be face-down in the gutter could you help me up my good man?  Don’t trouble yourself if you have business to attend to, I’ve been here for some time you see.  My bones are weary but they deserve to be, I suppose.  Forget I mentioned it.  I’m a recorder you see.  A recorder of all things I feel pertinent to record.  For instance I might choose to note that your eyes seem quite tired, and your fingers have been twitching for a cigarette since we began this conversation.  Do you feel your heart beating or merely assume it’s still working?  I would double check if I were you sport.  The orderly way you keep your hair indicates to me that it gives you a sense of control, or maybe pride, is that it? Is it pride sir?  I simply wish to know all there is to know about nothing, and it is my god-given right to sit in this gutter all damn day and ask questions of whomever I please.  But before you leave there’s just one last thing my good man, would you consider helping me up?

            cHp-6

 Concerning the subject of generational friction, the views expressed may seem biased but I assure you they are quite logical and clear.  Do not waste your time criticizing the troubled heads of the children you fucked into creation, and thus raising how you saw fit.  You created the beast that haunts you.  Isn’t that just a kick in the dick?  What makes you so high and mighty you can’t look at history and deem yourself unworthy to judge progress that you weren’t a part of?  You insufferable fucks.  Listen to and process the information you receive before condemning it.  This seems like a redundant thing to say but let me assure you it is necessary for the survival of our kind.  An angry adult looming over the decisions of their teenage kid appears to them a shrieking gargoyle whose words are spoken in a foreign language that just sounds vaguely angry and annoying.  It doesn’t register and honestly makes you sound like an illiterate baboon.  Rather, relate your own experiences to the young ones.  Honesty, transparency, that is what normal, level people respond to.  My own experience wasn’t cruel or abnormal by any means, my parents are very decent people.  Their shortcoming is the snakes crawling around them don’t allow them rationality when their foundations start to tremble.  They cling to routine and anything but forces them into overdrive.  God bless my mother, she tries so hard.  It pains me that her attempts end up appearing misguided because of the circumstances surrounding them.  I love you mama, sorry I took the woods instead of the road you hand-paved for me.  I realize that was selfish, but I also know at the end of the next valley or so there’s a spring of fresh water that will keep you young and happy for as long as God allows.  I’m coming back with something to show for your efforts I swear on it.  If my life ends in an untimely manner, I will speak with the head of whichever side of the afterlife I end up in and ensure your peace of mind.  No one else stands on that pedestal and most likely never will.  I threw everyone else off into the ocean of hungry sharks and flesh-eating salmon.  I am the lone tenant of that lonely rock, and I intend to keep it that way, just in case I feel like jumping.  You would be wise to meditate on top of your own rock, and even wiser to do it all by yourself.  After all, you are the only entity that you can prove exists so why waste your time building card houses?  I built one for her, and with one single motion it lay flat on the ground, scattered about with the remaining ounces of optimism I had in my reserves.  Don’t say cynic like it’s a bad thing, I enjoy my eternal skepticism and bitter sarcasm don’t you?  Or have you not experienced the sting of a serpent’s tongue when it comes out of the mouth your dick was just in?  Have you never felt the twinging of anger deep in your jaw as you watch a pathetic stack of jock arrogantly walk your drunken white dove into the next room to fuck her brains out while you sit in disgust with yourself for even giving a shit?  Have you been so dead set on sedating yourself you forget there’s a reality outside of the 4 blurry walls that have become your life?  Have you taken your mind to the very edge of what it can withstand just to be able to put it on paper?  Forgive me if I see things as they are, rather than what other writers have convinced you of.  The fiction they peddle is all well and good until their audience begins to cling to every word; hoping, praying, knowing that the same thing will happen to them.  Their prince will come riding in with killer abs and excellent listening skills, or a virgin with gorgeous blue eyes will see the good in you and immediately shed her white dress and have lingerie underneath waiting to be fucked into submission.  Tumblr doesn’t coincide with real life.  Retweeting cute little pictures of good-looking couples is slowly turning your brain into Disney-princess themed mush.  Walk outside for thirty seconds.  Look down at the ground and understand that people better than you are sleeping on the very same ground because they were foolish enough to sit around and wait for something to happen for them while the cynics like myself keep sprinting, and maybe stop for a smoke break every now and again.

                 cHp-7

 I believe I’ve found solace in the city of Arcata.  All of Humboldt county that I’ve seen thus far is vibrant, teeming with life and deep colors.  I’ve spent my time reading books on the beach and spray painting the undersides of bridges.  I’ve embraced the degenerate living deep inside me and he’s a funny guy.  I have an unlimited supply of half-crazy hippies to keep me entertained while I tackle young adulthood.  Truth be told I don’t entirely trust myself not to end up just like them for at least a year or two.  Worst case scenario I eat too many psychedelics and become the uncle who hotboxes his Toyota Tacoma at holiday reunions, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t really want that to happen anyway.  I adore the idea of losing my mind just a little bit.  My uncle was shot in the brain in the midst of a long heroin binge.  He was a backup drummer for Guns N’ Roses at the time and most of the family thought they’d lost him.  He lived, miraculously and every time I see the man he manages to make me laugh.  He was trying to sneak me beer and rock cd’s when I was no taller than his waist.  My parents detested his behavior but I knew my mother found it charming deep down.  I’m not saying ending up like that would be ideal but it could also be a lot worse.  In the long run whatever you do with your time on Earth is your business, why bother worrying about how you spend it?  That statement comes with limitations of course, I have no sympathy for people that waste their years away indoors for whatever their reason may be, rather I am implying to spend your time exactly as you would like to.  Embrace the idea that the Earth is yours to move about as abrasively and black out drunk as you can get before you leave the house.  Reminiscing on every dimly lit room filled with people I barely remember and whatever bottles and drugs we decided to waste our money on, I don’t view it as lost time.  The highs and comedowns of what I’ve experienced merely made me much more aware of myself, aware of what makes me tick or nod off.  My mind is more alive than ever and will serve as my ultimate compass in the years to follow.  After all, I can’t really trust anything past my eyeballs, can I?  What lies beyond that is a barren wasteland filled with liars and cheats who would just as soon kill you if you didn’t hold that quiet mystery of whatever it is you have to offer that the gentleman to your immediate front is attempting to pry out of you before you realize that your insides have been sucked out through your nostrils.  Only a fool believes he is immune from falling prey to the demons that roam just as freely as the ne'er do wells and the gamblers and the drunk drivers and the gangbangers and the cops.  Just as freely as every fucking entity that has ever done you wrong.  Keep your wits about you, they might have the place bugged right now.  If you have any regard for your own life it would be best to ignore them completely, they can’t stand it.  Just like a toddler picking on the smaller boy a grade younger than him, it’s not fun when he isn’t phased.  You need to perfect the artform of contorting your face in such a way that indicates you could be shot through the skull on the spot and you would die in peace with yourself and the events that led to your death.  Fear nothing, for fear is good for nothing.  It will tempt you to solitude where it will dance for you but never let you take her home.  You will spend eternity emptying everything you’ve worked for from your pathetic pockets to feed the bitch that never stops eating.  Fear is the reason for every blunder I have committed in the short 20 years I have been alive.  Every misstep, fuck-up and regret was because I was too stricken to react like the fucking animal I should be.  Fear is the reason my father couldn’t pull his shit together for long enough to realize he had a wife and kids who loved him.  Fear is the reason I have a friend serving 25 to life for popping off and killing a kid over a heroin deal.  Fear is the reason I spent so long with oxymorphone pumping through my veins sedating me into complete apathy.  Fear is the reason we condemn entire populations of millions because of the actions of radicals.  Fear is the reason the pigs are slaughtering Negroes like cattle right in front of everyone’s face only to fall on excuses and turned heads.  Fear is the reason every fucking voice who could have made a difference was silenced by an assassin's bullet.  Fear has killed stronger people than you, shed every ounce of it you can muster before it’s too late.

            cHp-8

 I did a lot of cocaine earlier so now I can’t sleep.  I’ve thought about calling her a few times.  I would never follow through.  She’s probably somewhere high out of her mind thinking about everything she can beside me.  I can’t decide if I’m furious or just despondent and realistic.  She lit some sort of fire in me that hasn’t gone out despite the hurricane she hit me with.  Or maybe she didn’t do anything, and I created the hurricane out of thin air and pathetic daydreams.  Losing that other end of communication that I depended on to get me through the day was a little too brutal for me to be prepared for.  It was absolutely necessary, however, no one needs to have that much of a grip on me.  Even as I write that it makes me want to overdose because that grip was the warmest, most inviting chokehold I have ever come across.  It was closely comparable to the blanket of euphoria the opiates provide to the dedicated consumer.  It’s just lovely enough to make the idea of not taking it seem foolish.  Why would you, a hard-working adult pass up the chance to feel incredible for a few hours?  I’m not sure if this girl is drugs to me or if everything I feel and know deep in the pits of my stomach isn’t a lie, and she will come back in my life at just the right time and place where everything will come together beautifully like puzzle pieces.  There is no in between, and fuck you if you say it’s the first one.  I am allowed to delude myself as long as I choose, but the more I hallucinate the less I want to, and the longer I spend in my sober brain the less patience I have for anything but upward motion.  As far as the girl goes, I just want my friend back, and I don’t want to have to watch her lose herself to Xanax and Norcos.  She means too much to the universe, every hopeful girl with a clever smile who convinces herself she isn’t worth the effort is a casualty of war that we must not stand for.  Maybe I’ll call her one of these days, let her know I’m not giving up on her no matter how many walls she makes me put my fist through.  Or I might take a bunch of pills and assure everyone I’m not sad for a couple days, it’s pretty much worked every time I’ve tried it.  Wouldn’t that just be the best revenge, make her watch me slowly dissipate knowing the entire time she had a hand in driving me there.  No, I am not a coward.  I self-medicate that’s no question but I will never bring myself to that point because of another human being.  That shit is for the filthy street dogs ripping flesh off of roadkill just to stay alive.  It just seems logical to treat emotional pain with prescription painkillers, and no one can tell me otherwise.  That being said, this romantic attraction I have to drug use is starting to worry me, and people I trust.  I’ll have to take care of that in the future.  In the meantime, I am not a cold person by nature, so I can’t keep ignoring the little mosquitos buzzing around me.  They need to be killed.

                cHp-9

 All of my recent efforts as a human being have wavered on the edge of futile not to mention pathetic.  Every time my mind balances itself the same night will be accompanied by brutal introspective beatings, brought on as I suspect by the soul-sucking Hantu Kopek I once believed myself to be capable of loving.  The nightmare demon visits me when she chooses, roughly three times a week by my count.  She sits in waiting as I toss and turn with the information that I was lied to, cheated, and tossed outside to die with the dogs.  Then once I finally slip into civil unrest she slips her tongue deep into my throat as flashing visions of Xanax and quiet hospital rooms flood my subconscious. I sat in tears last night for hours, I can’t remember the last time I wept like a fucking child.  My emotions haven’t touched base with me to that degree for months.  It happened after I drifted asleep for no more than a few minutes and there she was, dead on arrival from prescription overdose, and I hadn’t spoken to her in months.  It was only a few seconds but it was clear as day.  I woke up in tears.  The thought of losing her terrifies me to my core but I am worthless to her.  She doesn’t care if I live or die through no fault of my own, so by every law of nature I should have spit on the very idea of her the moment she chose Oxymorphone over anything to do with me.  I don’t know where to turn to anymore so I think I’ll stop turning.  I’m getting dizzy and I’d like to sit down.  I refuse to delude myself into hopeless depression and apathy anymore.  I’ve come to realize, throughout all the beatings my brain has received over the past few months, that I was the one holding the bat, not her.  The whole situation was an ugly old whore that had to be put down with a single gunshot to the skull.  Now that I’ve pulled the trigger it’s just a matter of burying the body before I find myself hauled up in a cabin playing cards with the old whore’s frozen corpse.  That would be embarrassing.

          cHp-10

 Bartender, I’ll have a whiskey sour.  In the meantime allow me to introduce you to my associates.  They’re all docile and pleasant individuals but the wrong combination of words and circumstances will tip the scales just enough to allow all the wiggle room they require to turn your life upside-down and sideways.  What I mean to say is, while they may all come across as harmless reefer-heads they don’t fear or bend to to the whim of anyone but themselves.  They will take any and all necessary actions to keep themselves in whatever circumstances they damn well please, and that’s why we don’t mind acting reckless from time to time.  That being said, recklessness is beginning to suit me less, and far be it from me to argue with acting civilized.  For writing material, however, I will entertain any notion I please.  The last few months give or take have been bizarre.  Every effort I made to improve myself seemed to ricochet and land in foul territory.  I don’t mean that.  My short game is just wretched at the moment.  I’ve separated myself from a lot of people I used to spend time with.  Partially because of circumstance partially because I just don’t have the energy.  To the friends I still have and to all the people I have ever and will ever spend my time in the company of please know your efforts did not fall on ungrateful hands.  I only must do what is best for me and those I love.  At times that could mean months of silence and awkward glances, as we are only human beings.  Meanwhile, I’ll be locked in my room scribbling sociopathic scrawl onto one of my many notebooks, or perhaps I’ll be inebriated to the extent of drilling my fists into my own property out of anger and self-induced psychosis.  I cannot be at peace until the constant need to be sedated has left my psyche, and the first step to that is reminding myself what life is like without this wall of chemicals in front of my eyes.  So far it’s been incredibly dull, and that can only mean that it’s working, or that all my efforts are misguided and in a few short months I’ll be the same abrasive dope fiend that everyone knows and loves.  The ride is not over, the war wages on.  Tomorrow brings possibilities so twisted and depraved you really can’t afford to ignore them, and it would be in your best interest to have a pair of aviator sunglasses, a trenchcoat full of psilocybin, and a sawed-off shotgun at your immediate disposal.  The bastards won’t be able to touch you.

 -alleycat

[got7scxnarios4u]

Forbidden Fruit: Jaebum AU 

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

He breathes in a breath of fresh air as he wonders down the quiet street, late night in the usually bustling Seoul. It felt good to just be okay, not stressed, and not overworked, just okay. His father finally let him have the vacation he had be longing for, for the last a hundred years. And no, a hundred years isn’t some exaggeration, he had really been begging for the past hundred and 5 years to be exact. He had been running hell for that long, dealing with punishments, living with the scum that once roamed earth. In a way he was sort responsible for them, he was known as the famous ‘devil’. But he didn’t look like the twisted images they portrayed in the movies or books, he didn’t have horns, he didn’t have claws. He was handsome, seductive, the embodiment of temptation.

Suddenly, his stomach made a growling noise and cramped with pain. He had never felt such a feeling before. He looked around to find a surface to sit on, hoping it would subside his pain, and his eyes landed on a poster reading ‘hot noodles and meat meal set, half price’. The image of the noodles lit up. He wipes his mouth drool spills from it. He was hungry. Except for the need to feed off of pain and strife, he had never been hungry before. Even though he would’ve liked to ignore the feeling, he couldn’t, it was consuming his thoughts. He gets up on his feed and walks to the eatery.

“안녕하세요! (Hello) How may I help you?” A friendly looking middle age woman greets him.

“Food. Give me food.” He demands, aggressively. He feels his power seep into his fingertips and pour into his eyes. One snap of his fingers and total damnation.

The waitress cowers in fear. He then comes to the realisation that total damnation equalled hunger. Being nice and calm would equal food, a lot of food. He takes a deep breath, the smell of food tingles his senses.

“Please, I would like some food please.” He says, standing back, forcing a smile.

The waitress indicates that he should follow her. She leads him to a table in the corner of the restaurant.

“What can I get you?” She asks.

He points to several items on the menu, ramyun, lamb skewers, samgyupsal and more. His mouth waters the more he looked at the menu.

It wasn’t long until his food came and he scoffed it down, chopsticks working in full effect, only taking breaks to breathe. He knew people were watching him, he heard the whispers, he guessed it was unacceptable for one man to eat that much. Then the meal came to an end and he was ready to go and find somewhere to lie down. It was all too much, being human wasn’t easy, if you weren’t hungry, you were tired, if you weren’t hot, you were cold. He picks up his jacket and walks towards the door. He was stopped by an elderly woman.

“Where are you going? You have to pay!” She raises her voice.

“Pay?” He scoffs, he didn’t understand the concept of money.

“Yes pay.” She says, blocking the door.

“Get out of my way, you stupid woman before I show you who I really am.” He threatens, once again feeling the power surge around his body.

Before he could release the power, a hand touches his shoulder.

“It’s okay, Ajumma, I’ll pay.” You say, you had a hard day and you didn’t really want to be dealing with the police when they would have to be called. Plus, it was a good deed, the guy obviously was starving, and a bonus was that he was hot. Like really good looking.

The Ajumma backed away and you handed some cash. He must’ve eaten a lot, the bill came up to a lot of money. You bow and walk out, giving small smile to the stranger.

Why did you do that? Did you worship Satan? Which wasn’t him, but a distant cousin. Maybe you knew who he was, you wanted to serve an angel, a dark one of that. He wonders. He jogs out after you.

“YA! You!” He shouts, stopping you in your tracks.

“Hey.” You say, ogling up at him. It skin seem to glow in the dark of night.

He steps closer to you and makes eye contact. A warm feeling travels through his body, as if he was being embraced. He felt connected to you and didn’t know why. He felt a strong need to be close to you, to be around you. He had never felt such warmth, only the heat from the flames in hell, he only the flicker of flames, he hadn’t none true light until he looked in your eyes.

“Hello!” You wave your hand in his face, he looked spaced out.

“Why did you do that?” He questions.

“What? Help you?”

“Yeah. Do you know who I am?” He grabs your arm.

You shake his hand from your arm.

“Who are you?” You ask, crossing your arms.

He looked shocked, as if you should know who he was.

“The devil.” He says.

You smile, he must be joking. When you see that he wasn’t smiling, you stopped.

“Are you serious?” You question.

“Yes, why would I lie?”

You were genuinely concerned for him.

“Do you have anywhere to stay?” You ask.

“Did you hear what I said?” He raises his voice.

“Yes, I’m choosing to ignore it. I read online that you shouldn’t take notice of delusions. It only makes worse.”” You say.

“I’m being serious!” He exclaims.

You slowly nod and place your hand on his shoulder.

“It’s okay. Now, do you have anywhere to stay?” You ask him, trying to sound friendly.

He looks at you strangely, he didn’t know why you were helping him. He was a stranger. You couldn’t figure out why you were helping him either, you felt some sort of connection and bond, as if you’d known him your whole life.

“No I don’t. I just got here.” He answers, picking your hand up by your sleeve off his shoulder and dropping it down.

“Seoul?” You ask.

“No. Earth.” He corrects you.

Normally you wouldn’t invite a complete stranger with obvious mental issues into your home, but your moral compass and sensibility weren’t working.

“I have a spare room, you can stay with me until you get on your feet.”

He wasn’t in a place to decline, he needed a place to stay.

“Okay. T-thank you.” He chokes out, manners weren’t really something that came easily.

It was a lot in one day. He used to be able to feel other emotions, until his father banished him from the Holy Kingdom. He dared to demand freedom and individuality, he was an angel, not a slave. And the way in which he worked to get his freedom, resulted in sin after sin. The ultimate betrayal. So his father kicked him down to hell, and in that fall he lost all feeling, all happiness, and all peace.

You walked him back to your apartment, making small talk on the way.

“So… what is your actual name? Sure you say it’s the devil.  But I need to refer to you as something more normal… No offence.” You ask, looking ahead, to avoid his gaze.

He didn’t have a ‘normal’ name. What could he tell you? Lucifer? Beelzebub? He was in Korea, he spoke Korean and he looked Korean. He needed a Korean name. What’s that name he heard earlier that day? Jaehyun? Jaewon?

“Jaebum.”

Hey guys, I wanted to try something new, tell me what you think of it. Should I continue?