#inspired by that one frame of her hitting the staff on the ground during the pacifist fight

[chromatasia]

second addition to the multiverse yellow cast (really need to figure out a name for this…) is ceroba!! the actual world this ceroba originates from is unknown; all that is known about her is that she is on the search for an au where everything went right… yet every au she leaves is left as smoldering ash…

[myhauntedsalem]

13 True Horror Stories from the Psychiatric Ward that Will Give You the Creeps

Death, illness and tragedy have long been part of the history of insane asylums, and for as long as they have existed, so too have the scary stories associated with them. From haunted hospitals to sadistic doctors and nurses, psychiatric wards have been the inspiration for many of our favorite horror movies and books. Yet, the true stories told by the psych ward workers below far surpass any horrors that we might have seen at the cinema or read in a book.

Without further ado, here are thirteen of some of the creepiest psych ward stories on the internet that have been shared by health care professionals.

1. Holding her own Eyes

My mom told me this story from her time at a neuropsychiatric ward while she was in grad school. She was making her routine room checks and happened upon the most horrific scene I’ve ever heard.

This was during the night shift, and generally, all the patients’ bedroom doors should be closed. So my mom turned a corner and noticed an open door. She saw a staff member’s legs on the floor, halfway out the doorway.

When she looked into the room, she saw the patient, a woman with a severe postpartum psychiatric disorder, who had just gouged both of her own eyes out with her bare hands. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, holding her eyes in her hands.

The first staff member to witness the scene, who was now lying face down on the floor, had a heart attack when he first witnessed the woman while he was making his rounds.

My mom screamed for help and frantically tried to perform CPR on the staff member. All the while, the woman just sat rather calmly, holding her own eyes.

2. The Saw

I work as a psychotherapist in a hospital system. My definition of creepy is probably quite a bit different from other medical professionals.

The one that got to me the most was a patient who came to us after attempting suicide by sawing both his arms off at the forearm with a table saw. His arms were reattached, fairly successfully too, with only limited impairments in mobility. All I could think was how bad it would have to be to live in his head that sawing his arms off seemed better than that.

He has since completed suicide.

3. Jane?

We had a young lady in our custody with quite a few issues. We’ll call her Jane. Jane’s first night at our facility staff doing a bed check found Jane in a puddle of blood. Turns out Jane had been slicing the skin around her shin with her finger nails and was pulling her skin up her leg, essentially de-gloving her calf.

Jane also had a ritual she performed every night before bed. While in her room she would run between walls in her room touching them in a crucifix pattern. After doing this for a few hours she would sit on her bed and go to sleep. This particular night Jane was frantic in her pace, practically running between walls. Our night staff observed the entire interaction and reported Jane screaming late into the night. When the staff went to check on Jane she reported Jane standing in the doorway smiling. The staff asked what was wrong and Jane replied, “what makes you think you are speaking to Jane?”

4. The Vampire

My mom worked in mental institutions in her younger years (and actually worked at a large, well-known asylum before it was shut down.)

There was one woman there that thought she was a vampire of sorts. She was only allowed out one hour a day, and they had to use safety precautions. She had already attacked and killed at least one hospital worker before these were enacted.

When my Mom asked about her, it was revealed that she had killed at least two of her children, wounded another as well as her husband because she had some sort of physical condition called Porphyria, which apparently made her crave blood.

By the time that they discovered there was something physically wrong with her, she already had lost her mind from guilt and grief.

5. The Spitter

I’m not a psychologist but my friend is. She told me about a patient of hers who was HIV positive and a paranoid schizophrenic. He thought that the nurses who worked at the hospital he was in were trying to kill him, so he would frequently bite his tongue, and spit HIV positive blood into their faces/mouths. When they had to come into contact with him, they were required to wear full masks and gloves.

6. The Only One

I once knew a woman who had spent part of her residency at a psychiatric hospital for people with severe mental conditions. Apparently, the grounds had a lovely, enclosed greenhouse. One day, one of their schizophrenic patients was sitting on a bench, smoking a cigarette, as a heron frantically flew around. It had found its way in and, not being able to escape, it was smashing into the large panes of glass. The man just sat there watching.

Finally, my counselor asked him if the bird was bothering him and he kind of sighed and said, “Thank god, I thought I was the only one seeing that.”

7. Family Photographs

My sister is the director of a psychiatric hospital. There was recently a lady there who would cut her arms, legs and torso open and place photographs of her family under her skin.

8. Under the Bed

Once, a fellow female patient told me she found writings under her bed. They were just old, small wooden bed frames with hard mattresses that would make all kinds of noises when you rolled over, but I still wondered what exactly she was doing lying under her bed to find these writings.

When she first told me, I thought it was a joke. But sure enough, one day during group we managed to sneak away, and she showed me. Indeed, there were stories written under her bed. After that, we had everyone check under their own beds, and there was more writing under every single bed.

They were stories of patients who had stayed here before, or ways they were planning on killing themselves, or who the good and bad nurses were. It creeped me out.

9. Time of Death

Well, my mother was a nurse that specialized in geriatrics, and she worked for several hospice hospitals for many years. She often described situations at her work with several of the patients. She would say that each person tends to have a very similar “checklist” that they follow right before death. This checklist often ended in a very similar way.

They would get caught talking to someone that wasn’t there. When asked who they (otherwise lucid people) were talking to, they would describe an individual who was already dead. When asked what they were talking about, they would say that their relative wanted to know if they were ready to move on. A pretty common response would be, “Yeah, he/she said that she will take me tomorrow at 3:00.” Well, it would often happen that they would die at the exact time their relatives quoted.

10. The Test Subject

I had an hour-long conversion with a delusional guy who was confined to a mental health facility, and who was probably smarter than I am. Lots of these folks believe that somebody – often the CIA – is either beaming thoughts into their heads, or has implanted a microchip in their brains for this purpose. This guy was offering a very thoughtful argument as to why such claims should not be so quickly dismissed.

“It’s precisely because such delusions are so common that mental patients make the best test subjects,” he said. There he was, confined and protected, constantly observed, his health and behavior documented, and there is zero chance that anyone would ever take his concerns seriously. How else would you test and improve such technology? Does the government not have a strong motivation and a plausible ability to create such a device?

“You can see I’m not irrational,” the man said. “I’m just straight-up telling you that they are doing this to me. I know just how unbelievable it sounds, and yet, here I am.”

11. The Boy who Loved Knives

As a tech in psych years ago, there was a 7-year-old kid sent to the floor because the mom didn’t know what to do with him. Sadly, common thing to happen, even if the kids don’t have psych issues. Anyway, the mom was shaking and crying, and they had to take the kid into another room. She was genuinely afraid of her own son. She had suspected something was wrong when she kept finding mutilated animals in the backyard, but never heard or saw coyotes or anything around. The neighbors smaller pets started disappearing. The boy had an obsession with knives, hiding them around the house. Denying anything when the mom confronted him. Then when the two started getting into arguments, he would get really violent and hit her, push her down and kick her, threaten to kill her. On multiple occasions she woke up in the middle of the night with him standing beside her bed, staring her in the face. She put extra locks on her bedroom door to feel safe while she slept. The last straw was when she lifted up his mattress and found 50+ knives of all shapes and sizes under there. So she brought him to us.

I remember talking to him, treating him like he was just any other kid that came through. He seemed remarkably normal, until you spoke directly to him. He had this way of looking right through you, or maybe like he didn’t see you at all while you were speaking.

He would respond like a robot, like he was just saying words because that’s what we wanted to hear. And he would always put on this creepy, dead-looking smile. Like all mouth and no eye involvement in the smile. Especially when he would get away with something, like taking another kid’s markers and they couldn’t figure it out. Still gives me chills laying here thinking about him.

I believe I met a 7-year-old psychopath.

12. The New Mom

I was a pharmacy technician at a hospital with a psych ward for some time. We would have to go around with a cart and dispense the patients’ medications, and being a 5’2″ girl, a security guard or male nurse would accompany me, just as a precaution. I never had any real issues other than the occasional death grip onto my arm or manic outbursts, but there was one boy who was entirely different.

His chart said he was nine and he had pale skin, dark hair, and huge bright, green eyes. He always greeted me in the most polite way, asked how I was doing, and always found something different to compliment me on every time. He was extremely well-spoken and mature for his age, so I began looking forward to seeing him, as normal small talk is definitely cherished in that setting. If he saw me outside of his room in the halls, he made sure to say hello and always called me “Miss Jones” or “ma’am.”

One day, a couple of our female nurses saw me pause to chat with him in the hallway, and waved me over to ask if I was out of my mind. Apparently, when he was in kindergarten, he grew an intense attachment to his young female teacher.

This escalated to the point of him calling her “Mom” and leaving notes for her about how he wished he were her son. He had a normal home-life with both parents, and the teacher tried to explain to him that she couldn’t be his mom because that would hurt his real mother’s feelings, and that she already had that job covered.

So, he went home and, killed his own mother in her sleep by cutting her throat, so his teacher could be his mom. The female staff had a general rule of not interacting with him excessively to prevent any kind of attachment from forming.

13. Bugs

Nothing I can say can possibly describe the year I worked in Psychiatric Intensive Care. Creepy isn’t the thing that comes to mind when I think back on it…more heartbreaking and horrifying. But creepiness was a part of it. Especially evening and night shifts, naturally.

There is always something disturbing about watching someone while they hallucinate. You can tell it is 100% real to them, and something about that makes you believe it, on some level. A lot of stories end with, “and of course, I had to look over my shoulder to make sure”. You see the emotions it brings out.

There was a woman that came in and sat down across the table from me for her admission interview. She had bandages all over her arms and scotch tape over her mouth and ears. She looked very uncomfortable and wouldn’t really sit still. When the nurse would ask her a question, she would peel the corner of the tape back and answer, then stick the tape back on really fast.

We eventually found out that she saw and felt bugs crawling all over her, and they were trying to get inside her body. The tape was to keep the bugs out. The bandages were because some bugs got in and she had to dig them out. She couldn’t sit still because she felt the bugs all over her even while we sat and talked. The worst part was, she had some idea that it was her mind playing tricks on her. Can you imagine going through your life, feeling like someone is continuously dumping buckets of cockroaches on your head, feeling like they’re all over you and getting inside of you to the point that you’re digging chunks out of your flesh in a panic, all while knowing intellectually that none of it is real?

[settersloveletters]

— her remora; oikawa tooru

⤷ growing up with a silver spoon in your mouth, you were thought to have everything. that is, until you meet a man that went by the name oikawa tooru

➳ pairing: oikawa tooru x f!reader

➳ additional characters: akaashi keji

➳ genre: fluff

➳ word count: 4.5k

➳ warnings: toxic-ish parents

➳ written by: kiri ♡

— notes; this was inspired by two tiktoks found here & here it was too cute not to write and so i spent abt 5 hours writing this in one go. enjoy!

— more notes; also thank you to @loneveenas​ and @thelittlebirdthattoldyou​ for beta reading this!

remora [rem-er-ah]: an obstacle, hindrance or obstruction

Since the moment you were born, you were given everything in life. From your ever-growing trust fund to your luxurious lifestyle that included maids upon maids to always having someone at your beck and call.  Yes, you were raised to have everything handed out to you on a silver platter. But the one thing that was never given to you was to choose for yourself. Your whole life, your parents chose everything for you. The staff who watched you grow up more than your parents ever did, the frilly outfits that they deemed ‘feminine and graceful’, — but in your eyes were atrocious and did not suit you one bit — even the ‘friends’ you had growing up. All looked at carefully by your parents who wanted to raise the perfect daughter to showcase to the world. 

Not once did you ever get to have a voice for yourself. You were seen as the object of perfection, and that meant doing whatever your parents wanted. Being taught that ‘good girls listen to their parents’, you held your tongue whenever you disagreed with something they planned.

“(Y/N), darling, your harp instructor will be there thrice a week and your dance instructor twice a week. Make sure to be on your best behaviour,” your mother cooed, over the phone. “Remember, you were born to be perfect, because—”

“Perfectionism is key, yes mother I understand.” your mother stayed silent on the other line and you knew she was unhappy with something.

“I thought I told you that interrupting is rude and impolite (Y/N). I’ll be adding on more etiquette lessons to your schedule.” 

Your shoulders deflated, “I’m sorry mother. I’ll do better.” After another quick reprimanding, your mother hung up, her final sentence being, “Remember the upcoming gala your father is hosting (Y/N). It will be here in 2 months time, so please be sure you perfect your lessons by then.” Resisting the urge to slam the phone back onto its stand, you clenched your hands into tight fists.

You were trapped in a birdcage, with no way to escape. Or so you thought.

                      ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Taking a deep breath of air, you hopped out of the carriage and onto the fresh pavement. After telling a white lie to one of the new maids — that your mother told you to go fit some dresses she had made for you — you found yourself at your city square. You brought your hand up to lift your hood onto your head. Although you rarely went out — another rule set by your parents; you have no reason to socialize with the common folk — you were still well-known because of your parents. The wealthy men and women that frolicked in the square would definitely tell your parents if they had seen you out here. The moment you relaxed your shoulders, they tensed up once again at the presence of someone behind you. You looked over to see the same maid you had tricked into leaving the estate. You blew a puff of air, ‘No matter where I go, mother and father are always with me.’ 

As long as this maid was with you, you wouldn’t be able to relax. Just this once, you wanted to be off on your own, without anyone, especially your parents, reminding you of who you were. “I need to go visit my harp instructor to ask a question. In the meantime, could you go to the boutique and check on the dresses.”

The maid looked skeptical, “But Miss, I was told to always stay with you when we ventured outside the estate.” You gave her a tight lipped smile.

“Yes, and I was told by my mother that I had to be home before noon, which leaves us with,” you looked over to the clocktower that stood in the center of town, “barely an hour. What I need to discuss with my instructor will take at least thirty minutes and if we don’t get back in time you may be held responsible.” The young maid’s face went pale and she nodded her head before quickly running off to the boutique that certainly had no order of dresses your mother had ‘wanted’.

Keeping your head low, you strolled around the town, making sure to stay far from where the carriage stopped. Without having the eyes of someone following you, you were able to loosen your shoulders and actually breathe for once. Something you haven’t been able to do since, well, ever. Hearing the laughter of children, you lifted your head up to see a small fenced-in house a few feet away from where you stood. In the field of the house, you could see small children running around a male that looked to be your age. The young man was tossing some sort of ball up in the air for the kids. But one of the boys hit it a bit too hard, and the ball went flying past the fence, bouncing on the ground until it started to roll towards your feet. Picking up the object, you could hear the quick footsteps of someone coming towards you. 

“Sorry about that,” a soothing voice rang in your ears. You glanced up to see the young man that had been playing around with the kids standing on the other side of the fence. You raise the ball up to him, without saying a word. “Thank you, are you new in town?”

“I’m sorry?” 

The brunet male hopped over the fence, “This is a pretty small town, so everyone knows about everyone who lives here.” He starts to toss the ball in the air, hitting it with his fingertips. “I ought to remember your pretty face around here.”

Blushing slightly from the compliment, you reply, “You could say I’m visiting.” It wasn’t a total lie. You were in fact visiting the town square. The male hummed as a response, continuing to toss the ball up in the air. You narrowed your eyes, “You know, it’s rude not to look at someone when you’re having a conversation.”

The young man looked at you, the ball falling on top of his head due to the lack of movement from his arms and hands, “Ow. Sorry about that, Princess.” 

Your brows furrowed at the name. “I am not a princess.”

“I don’t know, the princesses I know of are always wearing a hooded cape, have a maid running after them and ride in carriages.” he smirked at you.

Fiddling with said hooded cape, you tilted your head and looked at the man in front of you. “How are you so sure that I have a maid and ride in a carriage?”

He chuckled in response. “Not sure. Maybe it’s something about that panicked maid who just came out of the carriage behind you.” Pointing in the direction behind you, you turned and spotted the maid that had accompanied you during this outing. ‘Uh oh’ you thought to yourself.

“Miss (Y/N)! I had gone to your harp instructor’s residence, but he told me that you did not pay him a visit!” the maid sputtered out. “Oh, did I say harp instructor? I meant dance instructor.”

Your shoulders tensed up as you walk towards the carriage, the maid frantically walking beside you. “Besides that, shall we head home?” You entered the carriage, taking off the hood once you took a seat. Looking out the window, you could see the brown-haired man standing where you left him, staring at you. When he noticed that you were looking, he gave you a smile and a wave, “Hope to see you soon, Princess!”

You crossed your arms over your chest, puffing out your cheeks slightly. “I am not a princess,” you whispered. 

                       ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Although you had an odd first meeting, you couldn’t get the boy with the ball out of your head. There had been something about him that sparked curiosity in you. There was an urge to go speak with him again, as if the world wanted you to see him once again. Before you knew it, you were coming up with ideas to get out of the house. Luckily for you, your mother needed you to accompany her to one of the boutiques she handled. Something about fitting some dresses for the gala. “You need to look your very best darling. The night of the gala is very important for you and our family.” Paying no mind to what she said, you got ready to leave the estate once again.

Not even ten minutes into you trying on dresses, your mother got a phone call that needed her to fly out of the country. Again. 

“I have to leave, (Y/N). The minute you’re done fitting these dresses you go straight back home.” she didn’t even wait for a reply from you, as she exited the boutique and entered a second carriage that appeared out of nowhere. An hour passed, and you put back on the clothes you arrived with. There were two of the house staff that accompanied you and your mother, and once you snuck past them, your feet brought you back to the small fenced-in house that you stumbled upon a week ago.

Not sure whether to stay past the fence and wait for someone to come out, you decided to walk up to the front porch of the house, knocking on the door lightly. A minute passed and you were about to knock again, when the door creaked open and revealed the same brown hair you couldn’t stop thinking about.

“Princess! To what do we owe the honour?” the male smiled, surprised to see you there.“Again, I am not a princess. However, I did come to visit. May I come in?”

He hesitated, glancing towards the back of the house, before opening the door wider so that you could walk in. “Be our guest,” he bowed, lifting his head at you to stick the tip of his tongue out the corner of his mouth. You chuckled, before recomposing your face. 

He walked down the hall towards the kitchen, you following him. Your eyes stayed on the walls of the house. They were covered with picture frames. You glanced over each frame to see a variety of kids and a few adults. You noticed that some kids weren’t in some photos, and some were in a couple. One thing that was made apparent was the small brown-haired, brown-eyed boy that was in every picture. Your eyes trailed off to the picture posted right before you entered the kitchen. Crouched in the middle of the small children was the same male that took over your thoughts. 

“Care for some tea?” You looked over to see him holding a small tea pot. Nodding, you walked over and took a seat at the small table. Pouring you a cup, you could smell the sweet aroma that wafted to your nose. It left a calming effect on you. “You know, you never told me your name.”

Lifting your gaze, you saw him sitting across from you, his chin placed on the palm of his hand as he looked at you. “Well it’s definitely not ‘Princess’, so you may as well stop calling me that.” You took a sip of the tea. It tasted different. It didn’t hold the same bland tea that your parents kept in the kitchen. This tea held more love. “Besides, I don’t know your name either.”

The man opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by a young child’s voice. “Tooru-nii.” The two of you looked up to see a small girl rubbing her eyes, as she held the ears of a stuffed rabbit tightly in her first. The man named ‘Tooru’ stood up and walked over to the young girl, crouching down to reach her eye level.

“Hey, what’s wrong Mika?” he asked, as he held a worried expression on his face. “Bad dream?” Mika nodded her head, a few tears could be seen in her eyes. Tooru lifted her up into his arms and carried her over to the table you were sitting at. He placed her on a chair beside you and walked over to the cupboard. Looking back at Mika, you found her staring at you with wide eyes. 

“You’re really pretty,” she complimented. You smiled at the girl’s purity. “Thank you, Mika, I think you’re pretty too. You and your bunny.” She brought up the stuffed bunny to her chest and hugged it tightly. 

“Are you Tooru-nii’s girlfriend?” 

Your eyes widened at the question, at the same time you heard the sound of a pot being dropped and shifted your gaze over to Tooru. He turned around and smiled sheepishly before going back to what he was doing. You looked back at Mika before you shook your head. “No, I’m not his girlfriend.” Mika smiled back at you. “Oh good. You’re too pretty to be his girlfriend!” 

You brought a fist up to your mouth to refrain from laughing. “Hey! I’m pretty too, Mika.” You see Tooru walk back to the table holding a cup of something and placing it in front of Mika.

Mika scrunched her nose at the brunette, “You can’t be pretty! You’re a boy!” 

Taking a sip of her drink, Tooru frowned at her. “I think boys can be pretty too Mika,” he huffed out. “Right...” his sentence trailed off and you looked over to see him looking at you. You stared back at him before you gave in.

“(Y/N).” You finished his sentence and  turned to Mika. “And I think boys can be pretty too.” Mika shrugged her shoulders and finished her drink before getting up from her chair and running out the kitchen and up the stairs.

“So the Princess has a name,” Tooru said, in a teasing tone. You glared at him.

                      ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Ever since that second encounter with Oikawa Tooru, you found yourself rebelling against your parents more often just to visit the male. Befriending one of the maids, she had told you of a secret underground tunnel that led to the outskirts of town square. You used this information to sneak out at night, when all the staff was asleep, to go meet Tooru. 

“Back again, Princess?” Tooru teased, when he saw you walking up the path. You rolled your eyes, but showed off one of your award-winning smiles, “How many times have I told you? I’m not a ‘Princess’.” You looped your arm through his and the two of you strolled through a small forest.

“Well, even though you’re not a real Princess,” Tooru stopped walking, crouching down to pick up a daisy off the side of the path. Turning back to you he offered you the single flower. “You’ll still be a Princess in my eyes.” You accepted the gift, a soft blush dusting your cheeks.

Before it was a weekly thing between the two of you, but two months passed and the two of you were meeting almost every night. Tooru had become your escape from the harsh rules under your parents’ house. With him, you were able to just be yourself and not the perfect little girl your parents raised you to be. The two of you were able to talk about anything and everything. He learned of your uptight lifestyle growing up, and you learned of his hardship growing up.

“Dance lessons?” the brunet asked. “I thought you said you didn’t have dance lessons Tuesdays.”

You took a seat on the grass that sat next to a quiet river. Tooru had brought you to a meadow, not far from town square. “That’s before I took a misstep while showing my parents my ‘improvement,’” you sigh, hugging your legs to your chest and placing your chin on your knees. “Now they added two more days on top of my hard and etiquette lessons.”

You let out a sound of frustration. Being met with silence, you look up to see Tooru offering a hand down to you. You looked at him with confusion. “I’m sure you’re an amazing dancer.”

Smiling, you took his hand and stood up. “I didn’t know you danced.” Leading you towards the middle of the field, Tooru positioned himself to dance the ‘Waltz’. “I may have a few moves up my sleeves.”

The two of you chuckled, before Tooru started to lead you. A few moves was an understatement. Tooru seemed like he had been dancing all his life with how easy you could follow him. You and Tooru danced alone, for what seemed like forever under the light of the moon. When the two of you came to a stop, you were out of breath, but a smile sat on your face.

“That was the most fun I had dancing since I started learning,” you said. The two of you started to walk back to town, for it was about time that you started walking back to your estate. “I didn’t even make a mistake!”

Tooru kept a hand behind you, on the small of your back as you walked. “Maybe you just needed the right dance partner.”

One of the biggest things you learned about Tooru was that he was an orphan. The house that you stumbled upon two months ago turned out to be the town’s orphanage. It made sense once you looked back at it. The picture frames that held different children in each photo. All but one child, Oikawa Tooru. He had revealed that he was abandoned as a baby, left on the steps of the house for the owners to find. Once he became a legal adult, he was able to move out of the orphanage and get a job in town. But his attachment to his old home stayed within him, and he visited the orphanage often to play and watch the young children. 

When he first revealed to you the truth about him, you didn’t know what to say. “I’m so sorry Tooru. You didn't have anyone growing up?” you asked. The male smiled softly at you, “No, I had all the kids and the adults growing up here.” he sat up, on the grass. “They became my family.”

You placed a hand on top of his hand, “I’m glad you were able to find your family with them.” Tooru shifted his gaze to you, “I'm glad to have the orphanage too. Without being there that day, I wouldn’t have met you.”

You stared into Tooru’s warm brown eyes. Although his story was sad, you found no trace of that emotion in them. Instead, they stared back at you filled with an emotion you never felt before meeting him. That emotion was love. 

It was then that you found yourself falling for the man. He gave you the one feeling that your own parents never once showed you. He looked out for you, when your parents didn’t — only doing so when it benefited them. 

“Hey there Princess.” you smile when you see Tooru waiting for you at the end of the tunnel. “Anyone catch you?”

You shook your head, “I’m here aren’t I?” 

“How was your day?” Tooru asked, as the two of you walked under the starry night. You let out a sigh.

“My parents came home today.”

“Oh yeah? How was it?”

You shrugged your shoulders — something your mother hated — “The usual. They wanted me to show them my improvement of dance and the harp.”

Tooru looked down at you, “And?”

“And what? They said I was nowhere near ready for this stupid gala,” you said. “Even though I’ve been taking these lessons for who knows how many years. I’m never perfect enough for them.” 

You stopped walking and hung your head down low, feeling your eyes well with tears. “I work so hard to please them, but nothing I do is right!” You placed your head in your hands as you started to sob. “I just want someone to be proud of me.”

You could hear Tooru shuffle around, before you felt his warm arms wrap around you. Snaking your arms around his waist, you hugged tighter, as if the moment you let go, you’d be left alone again.

“I’m proud of you, (Y/N).” He caressed your head. “The fact that you’re still standing through all of this has me in awe you know?”

He pulled away slightly and stared straight into your eyes, “Your parents may pick at these little things, but everything about you from your fidgety fingers to your wrinkling nose when you laugh is perfect in my eyes. So please,” he rubbed a tear away from your eyes, “don’t cry over this.”

You pushed your head into your chest, and just stayed like that. His familiar scent comforted you in the dark of night.

                   ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I-I beg your pardon?” All you could hear was a ringing sound in your ear. 

“(Y/N), what did we say about stuttering?” Your father looked up at you from his desk, your mother standing beside him with her hand perched on his shoulder. They looked like the perfect couple, if not for the fact that they were only together for money. “Nevermind that, your engagement to Akaashi Keiji will be announced at the gala in three days.”

“Father, if I may ask,” you waited for your father’s signal to continue, “why am I only hearing of this engagement now? Don’t you think it’s too soon?”

Your father sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “(Y/N), do not question this. This marriage will be good for you and the family.”

“But, I don’t even know him.” Your brows furrowed. “I don’t love him, how can I marry someone I don’t love?”

Your parents stared at you. “Darling, love doesn’t make a family successful. Do you think your father and I married for love? Our parents arranged us together because it would lead to a successful partnership.”

“Your mother is correct. Look at our family now, do you think you’d be living like this without a care in the world if we hadn’t married?”

You started to blink frantically, the information coming at you too soon, “B-But—” 

“(Y/N),” your father said, in a serious tone. “Do you think we don’t know about your late night rendezvous with that commoner?” You freeze at what your father said. “W-What?”

“Don’t act foolish, (Y/N). We know how you sneak out at night.” your father didn’t spare you a glance. “From this point on, you are forbidden from going out of the house unless I or your mother are with you. Members of staff will be standing at your bedroom door to make sure you don’t try to sneak out again.” 

“Father. that’s—” 

“No, (Y/N).” You froze, the eyes of your father staring you down. “As long as you’re my daughter you follow my rules. Do you understand?”

You didn’t reply.

“(Y/N), do you understand?” your father asked once again.You bit your lip to suppress your frustration. 

“Yes father.”

                     ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Three days had come and gone, and you spent those three days stuck in your room — given the last few dance lessons you had. Just as your father said, there was always a staff member standing guard at your door. You couldn’t even tell Tooru what had happened. Instead, you were left to think how he was alone waiting for you at the end of the tunnel.

The night of the gala your parents kept working for arrived, and you dreaded each second of it. In your dressing room, of the venue of the gala, you slipped into a soft blue gown that complimented your skin tone. The maids that were helping you did your hair and makeup. You needed to look your best. You needed to be perfect. 

“Smile, Miss (Y/N),” the maid that you befriended said as she placed a necklace on you, “it’ll be a happy night. Trust me.” 

Once finished, you walked down the halls of the enormous building. The minute you were introduced to the guests, you spotted your parents waving you over to another couple, and a young man that looked almost as bored as you were. 

“Here she is, our perfect little girl,” your father smiled. “(Y/N), introduce yourself to the Akaashi family.”

“Good evening, my name is (L/N) (Y/N).”

Your mother pursed her lips at your incomplete introduction. “Why don’t we leave these two to chat?” Your mother smiled, as her, your father and the Akaashi family walked off. 

You stayed standing with Akaashi Keiji, looking around the room at the other guests. “So, we’re getting engaged,” you said.

“Mhm.” Keiji took a sip of the champagne he was holding. “Did you have a say in it?”

You laughed, “Of course not, did you?” Keiji shook his head. “What amazing parents right?”

“The best.” The two of you laughed, and you felt a little at ease. The two of you made small talk. The easiest topic to talk about was how overbearing your parents were.

“They fired her?” you gasped. Keiji had been telling you the story of him and his lover. He had fallen in love with their family’s seamstress, and after getting caught, his parents fired her and sent her away immediately. 

“Yeah, I tried to go after her, but she disappeared without a trace.” he smiled sadly. “What about you? You mentioned a commoner that you had met?”

Before you could reply, both your parents stood up on the stage at the front of the room, gathering everyone’s attention. It looked like they were just about to announce the engagement. However, the moment right before they revealed the news, the doors to the room were bust open, causing everyone to turn their heads. As if fate was telling you to turn your head, you looked to see Tooru standing in the doorway, wearing a suit that matched your dress and breathing heavily.

“Tooru?” you whispered. You started to walk forward. 

“(Y/N)!” you heard your father shout, causing you to turn your head back to the stage. You could see the anger on his face. ‘No,’ you thought to yourself. ‘I’m not letting them dictate my life anymore.’ 

You turned towards Keiji. “I’m so sorry,” you said to him. He shook his head at you. “Don’t be; go get your happily ever after.” You gave Keji — your new friend — a smile that said ‘thank you’ before you lifted up your gown and rushed over to the man who had your heart.

“(Y/N)!” your mother shrieked out. But you didn’t care at this point. This was your chance to finally escape your parents’ wishes,and to finally do something you choose to do.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, taking Tooru’s head once you reached him.

“I came to rescue you, Princess.” he winked. You laughed and the two of you ran down the hall. Stopping briefly to take off the heels that were aching your feet, Tooru held them in the hand that wasn’t in yours. You could hear your mother and father shouting at you, but you didn’t care. 

Oikawa Tooru was giving you a way out. No, he was your way out.

[plainbrunettelbl]

(I was going to write this out on my thirst sideblog and @ you, but figured that since there's likely underaged followers around, so submitting it instead. Also, inspired by that one ask I sent you. ^^

Also, I set this as happening during the Endeavor Agency Arc, when the boys return to intern with Fatgum, alongside Tetsutetsu. :D)

Alpha Fatgum (Toyomitsu Taishiro) x Pregnant!Omega Reader - A Surprise Bundle of Two

[-]

It was no secret that Fatgum was mated to the omega of his dreams, and it certainly was no secret that she was currently pregnant with their first pup. Very pregnant indeed, due to your large belly that stuck out no matter what you wore.

The pup definitely took after their father, who was an 8 foot tall behemoth of love. Well, love when it came to you and your unborn baby, and to those he considered friends and family.

The omega had been seated in the corner of Fatgum's office, relaxing away in the nest that had been made in a vacant corner with pillows, personal items of yours and Taishiro's, and a few handmade gifts from your 'pups'.

'Pups' as in Tai's precious interns, including the newest one, Tetsutetsu. You had basically unofficially adopted Tamaki and Eijirou once you were confirmed to be pregnant, and your inner omega was protective of the two, and it latched on when Tetsutetsu joined... If it was official enough that you saw them as your pups when Fatgum once found you and the three passed out in your nest, sleeping without a care. Tai and his inner alpha went over the moon in joy!

But you weren't too happy at the moment due to the false contractions your body was putting you through. Your doctor (a very nice, older beta who had their own grown pups) told you that it would be normal and how to alleviate the pain as they came on. They were a lifesaver but as it went on, it felt worse and worse, and shorter in between each one. It was likely nothing, because you weren't due for another three or so weeks.

You soon passed out after a while but awoke only an hour later. The pain was even greater than before, and once you moved... your pants were wet. You were immediately distressed at the sight. Your water broke, but why!? It was too early for the pup to be on the way! They weren't due for another few weeks!

"Alpha..." You loudly whimpered in fear and pain, and letting out a distressed chirp along with a fearful scent. It was enough to send anyone who smelled it on high alert, especially your alpha. The ground shook a bit before the door to Fatgum's office snapped open, your alpha in the door frame and adoptive pups behind him.

"Omega, what's wrong!?" He crooned to try and calm you down. The scent of your distress had almost everyone on high alert at that point, as the faces of your adoptive pups' definitely showed. You were basically like the agency's mother at that point, protective and caring of everyone!

"M-my water broke- Too early-" You kept chirping in distress between each word, the pain getting worse and worse. The pup definitely felt their mother's distress and were wiggling up a storm within your belly. The sudden astonishment was evident on Taishiro's face once his mind registered your words. Your pup, his pup, was on the way right now!

⦁ No one stood in the pro hero's way once he scooped you up in his arms and the interns gave their words of encouragement to you before you and your mate were on the way to the hospital. The final mile of this nine month long race was near its end.

It didn't take long to thankfully get to the hospital and be rushed to where you needed to go to. Both you and Tai were so thankful that your beta doctor was there to help with the birth of your pup, especially with them being early. It would be a few more hours for any progress though.

The pain was so bad, it made you cry as you pushed. Taishiro was quick to dry your tears and croon to you. Stress wasn't good to either you or the baby, and he wanted you both to be okay. "It's okay, just a few more, babe..." He softly whispered and kissed your forehead. It was just a few more pushes and-

The beautiful noise of crying rung out. "It's a boy, Mr and Mrs. Taishiro, congratulations!" The doctor announced with glee before taking your newborn baby boy away to be checked on for a moment. Both you and Fatgum couldn't help but to cry out of joy, you finally had your pup. A beautiful boy, who after being looked at and confirmed to be healthy, he was placed on your chest and his cries died down to mere hiccups.

⦁ It looked like he already had the starting of Tai's hair, but you hoped he would have some things from you. Even if he was a bit chubby (and a little on the small side for an almost full term baby), he was perfect. You chirped happily with the sight of your first child, but a pang of pain made you let out a whimper of pain.

"Honey, are you okay?!" Taishiro questioned you with fear hanging in his voice and scent. "I-it hurts again-" You whimpered when another contraction hit and something descended in your belly. This wasn't normal at all! It only took a look from the doctor who paled a bit at what they saw.

"Um, Mrs Taishiro, get ready to push again, there's another pup!" The doctor said before getting ready yet again but this time for the unexpected arrival. You and Tai were both shocked at that announcement, you weren't expecting twins?! It always looked like it was just going to be one pup!

This time, it was quicker compared to your little boy who took his sweet time and soon, another cry rang out in the room which set off the elder baby boy. "Well, it looks like you have a boy and a girl, you two, congratulations!" The doctor was way too cheery about what was a surprise arrival but at least it was now over.

It was another few moments before your unexpected little girl was set next to her older brother, which thankfully, both of them stopped crying once they were reunited again. It was down to mere hiccups until they both fell asleep. Not a moment too soon either!

Both you and your alpha were absolutely tired, even if your inner omega and his inner alpha were absolutely ecstatic with there being two pups to your little family unit. The medical staff had left to give you and your mate some time alone with your new babies, and the sweet smell of exhaustiveness but happiness filled the room and drowned out the sterile hospital smell.

Taishiro was absolutely crying with joy at the unexpected situation. He wasn't really prepared for having two pups already, but these were his pups that he made with you! A little boy who already looked like he had his hair, and a little girl who took more after you. He was so excited for what they would look like as they got older, their quirks, everything!

"M-my babies..." He hiccuped while he tiredly nuzzled you, which earned him a nuzzle from you back. "Our p-pups- I'm so happy, my omega." He was chirping up a storm with how happy he was, while you just gave a small chirp as well. You were so damn tired with all the work you did, but it was worth it for the two little bundles on your chest.

"Happy..." You purred along with your alpha as sleep overtook you both. Both of your pups would definitely need names, but for now, that could wait. For now, it was just you, Taishiro, and your twins. A happy day indeed!

[nitholites]

Daminette Soulmate AU

Inspired by this post by @thepeacetea. Thank you for making an AU with so much Badass!Marinette possibilities. We. Stan. Epic. Marinette. I took a few creative liberties by changing how soulmates work a little bit, I hope no one minds too much. If people want more of this, I'll see what I can do. But, if this inspires anyone to write or add onto this- I personally highly encourage it! Seeing the works of art people can make from one thing are always inspiring to me. I'd love to see what, if anything, comes from this.

That's enough from me- time for the fic!

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Marinette sighed, letting her mind wander back. She remembered knowing several languages before she hit double digits, her body reacting to surprise by calming her mind, spinning around, assessing the situation, and figuring the easiest way to... disable whomever startled her. It took a surprising amount of self control to act like a normal kid, which made her wonder.

Who the heck was her soulmate?

She had to have one- not because she wanted one but because of all the skills she couldn't explain having any other way. She remembered asking her parents about soulmates, and getting a few answers. Soulmates weren't common- actually being extremely rare. The bond was usually the same, though. A kind of skill share.

The more your soulmate used a skill or integrated it into their life, the more normal the skill felt to you, becoming habit over time. Which is why Marinette always knew the exits, shadows, hidden corners, number of people in a room with her, direction, and how to... disable anyone at any given time.

Her footsteps were always silent, and she kept to the shadows of the room by habit. Several times, she accidentally sneaked up on her parents or friends when she thought she wasn't being sneaky at all. She was surprisingly talented at gymnastics, and the sport was relaxing to her, so she continued it all through school.

When she became Ladybug, she could only make a mental note to thank her soulmate profusely for knowing so many self-defense styles and aggressive fighting.

At first, Chat had a major crush on her, but after showing him he wasn't her soulmate (by yelling at him in every language she knew [which were about 5 he didn't]), he had to accept the facts.

Life went on, and soon Lila was brought into the picture. Adrien didn't help, and the class soon left Marinette behind, bullying her and excluding her. But still, Marinette continued to do the best she could as the class representative.

Two years after she became Ladybug, Marinette won her class a trip to Gotham to tour the city and learn more about the American school system. They'd stay for the remainder of the school year (about two months) and would have the chance to intern under several high-class businesses, industries, and names. Rumor had it that whoever earned the right to would work with the Waynes during the summer for their internship, a huge boost to the lucky winner's resume.

Marinette organised everything for the trip- the hotel, activities, tours, school, etc- nearly without help (if you counted Tikki and Luka- two of Marinette's last friends and people who didn't even go to her school!).

The plane ride to Gotham wasn't very interesting. Marinette sat in the back alone while Lila and her lackeys gossipped and lied (both knowingly and unknowingly) about this and that. Every so often, Marinette would hear something about a Dimitri Wayne?

She inwardly scoffed, wondering if Lila meant the only blood Wayne child. Marinette had done quite a bit of research into Gotham, it's heroes vigilantes, villains, and important figures. 99% of Lila's claims about the Waynes could be disproven by a simple Google search, yet...

Marinette sighed, watching the sheep flock to the wolf.

There's nothing I can do for those who swallow such obvious lies.

They reached Gotham around 9pm, going straight to the hotel and getting their rooms. Marinette, predictably, was alone. She was thankful for that, though, because then she could leave and go Ladybug-ing whenever she felt she needed to.

Of course, Marinette knew the rough locations of everything she'd visit, but... it would be handy, seeing Gotham from the air and in person.

"What do you think, Tikki? Should Ladybug say hello to Gotham?"

"Not Ladybug, per-say. What if Hawkmoth figured out we weren't in Paris?"

Marinette nodded at the flying Kwami, hovering right in front of her face. "A change in identities, then. Think you can whip up something I'd like?"

Tikki nodded with a smile, thinking for a moment before shooting her Chosen a thumbs up. "Tikki, spots on!"

Before she left, she took a look at herself in the mirror, smiling at the new outfit.

Her hair, once midnight black/blue, was red with black stripes, gathered up into a bun at the top of her head with a black ribbon tying it together and the ends sticking up to form antenna-like things. Her bangs, once swept to the side now framed her face, the left side red and the right black. The ends brushed her chin, but never seemed to get in her way. Her mask was black like the rest of her outfit, red decal swirling intricately across the fabric. Red accents outlined where her gloves, boots, and sleeves were against a black background. Instead of the skin tight onesie, her outfit was split into four parts- the top, bottoms, gloves, and boots. Her top took a different style, looking more like a Chinese or Japanese kimono top, the bell sleeves covering her palms and loose. Red swirled around the top in descrete roses, red lining the hems. Her gloves were red, black roses stitched into the fabric on the back. Her pants were black and only reached her mid-calf, red roses stitched near the cutoff. Her ankle boots were plain black, the three-inch heel not inhibiting her in any way shape or form (thankfully) and her yo-yo was still strapped to her hip, but harder to see. On her back was a staff like Chat Noir's, but black and with spots indicating the button.

She tapped her chin, humming in thought. "I suppose I'll need a new name for Gotham." She shrugged, deciding to think about it later. She easily opened the window and hopped out, getting used to using the staff almost immediately as she vaulted over the roofs near the hotel, quickly gaining distance.

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Nightwing frowned, eyes tracking the strange red and black figure who was easily taking down thugs twice their size. Seems like a new vigilante's in town, he thought, bringing a hand up to his comm. "Has anyone seen a new vigilante around?"

"No one's reported anything, why?"

He slid farther back into the shadows of the ally way he was crouched in, watching as the- what he could now tell- woman glanced around the small area. "I may have found one. See if you can find anything on her, Oracle. We'd better figure out if she's friend or foe before jumping in."

"Copy that. For now, track her."

"Way ahead of you," he said, silently jumping after her when she used some kind of baton to leap over the closest building.

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Marinette paused, stopping on the roof. Her tail seemed more interested in finding out who she was than kidnapping or attacking her, as they would have done so an hour ago when she let them close. She knew she couldn't allow that- no matter who was tailing her. She pulled her yo-yo off her hip, keeping her tail carefully behind her even as they slowly and stealthy approached. They sounded male, if the heavier steps meant anything.

With practiced ease, she opened the weapon, reaching into the glowing pink and pulling out the Fox Miraculous. She had long since started putting the Box of Miracles in her yo-yo when she transformed, careful to keep the Miraculi out of Hawkmoth's hands. She slipped the necklace on, nodding once at Trixx. She held out her hands as she said, "Trixx, Tikki, unify."

Orange replaced the red in her costume, an orange glow surrounding her for a second. No more red was found on the heroine, the dark color replaced by a dark orange and the staff replaced with a flute on her back. She turned on her heel towards her tail, a carefully blank look on her face. "Come out," she demanded, suppressing her surprise when Nightwing appeared.

Neither spoke for a moment, eyeing each other and mentally figuring each other's strengths and weaknesses. "Why were you following me," she asked, keeping her spine straight.

"The better question is, why are you here? Gotham has more than enough protectors."

"I won't be here for long. The League has made it's decision loud and clear, and I won't 'waste your time with pranks'," she angrly spit out, heavy quotations in her sentence. She watched as mild confusion spread on the bird's face, but felt only a slight ping of regret, her emotions having watered down and muted over the years of fighting Hawkmoth. Ladybug couldn't be compromised, after all.

"What are you talking about?"

"Ask those receiving requests for help about a French heroine named Ladybug," she said, pulling the flute off her back. She played an ancient tune that flew into her fingers, removed the instrument from her lips, and fired the glowing orange ball towards the ground, shouting, "Mirage," as she did so. Orange smoke filled the area, a million masked heroines going in all directions and tricking the sensors in Nightwing's mask as she went back to her room, only staying awake long enough to feed the Kwamis and fall into her bed.

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Red Robin frowned as he and Oracle looked through the footage from earlier, replaying it over and over. "Magic?"

"Has to be," he said, his brows furrowing as he scanned the footage once more. "There's no holographic projectors, and she didn't seem to know about the hidden cameras on him."

Oracle hummed, fingers flying away. "Any luck finding sources for the so-called heroine in France?"

Tim had been looking ever since the girl mentioned heroes in the country, only finding the Ladyblog. He didn't count it as credible, what with the obvious CGI. "No. Just a fake source," he said, sighing. "Maybe we should look through the League records. See if we can find anything."

"Way ahead of you," Barbara said, hitting the final key decisivly. "Four clips, one response."

"Play them."

A girl in a red and black spotted mask looked into the camera, the Eiffel Tower in the background. In accented English, she spoke. "Hello. My name is Ladybug, and I'm a new hero for Paris. My city is being terrorized by a villain who preys on any powerful, negative emotions he can find using the power of the Butterfly. I haven't been a hero long- today marks the full week. But I know we need help. My partner and I don't know what we're doing yet, and I can only drag us through battles so often until we run out of steam." Her blue eyes softened, hope and uncertainty in them.

"Please. If you get this- send help. Preferably someone with detective abilities and a good handle on their emotions so we can find Hawkmoth faster. I don't want to think of what damage Paris would go under if we had to fight an Akumatized member of the League..." She sighed, giving the camera a hopeful smile. "Bug out."

The next was in the middle of the day, giant bubbles floating in the air. The camera zoomed in on one, seeing adults trapped. The angle shifted to the streets, where kids were running rampant without supervision. "I don't know if I can fix the damage they'll do," the same voice called from out of the shot. "My Cure only works with very specific damages- and I don't think this counts. Please- the longer this goes on, the more powerful Hawkmoth becomes." Her voice held so much hope, it was nearly painful. "Ladybug out."

The next was again in the middle of the day, but this time, the streets were flooded. Only a few hundred people could be seen safe on roofs, and Ladybug did a full sweep of the city on camera before landing beside a blond hero in a black cat costume. "Syren is the most deadly Akuma we've seen so far," the heroine- Ladybug- said somberly. "I don't know what this will do to my people's mental health. It's already been months since Hawkmoth started his reign, but the changes may be permanent. Even a week after he started, I could see the changes in my people. They're more... empty. Like shells of the people they once were, scared to feel anything for the threat of Hawkmoth and harming their loved ones. I only pray my power continues to erase the memories of all those who become Akumatized, dead, or under the victim's control. My people are traumatized enough already. If anyone sees this, please.... send help."

The final clip showed a furious Ladybug staring into the camera, fires raging behind her. "It's been over a year since I first asked for your help. After so long, I thought I had accepted that no help was coming. But understand- you're leaving the fate of the world in a few teenagers hands! We can't keep going on like this- we'll burn out and Hawkmoth will win! Look at what Hawkmoth caused this time!" She turned the camera slowly, gathering the flaming city of love on screen. Craters filled the streets, no building over a story was intact. Bodies littered the streets- some charred and some bleeding. The Eiffel Tower was in pieces, crushing more people. Flames wracked the once-beautiful city, ash blocking the sun. "He will only get stronger, as will the Akuma he creates. But we won't without guidance and training! And no one on Team Miraculous has any kind of detective training- we aren't getting any closer to the source of the problem! And if Hawkmoth defeats both Chat Noir and I, the entire world may be doomed, depending on his wish." The camera was set down, Ladybug walking in front of it with a spotted object- something looking like a frying pan- in her hand. She threw it up, shouting "Miraculous Ladybug," as she did so. Millions of pink dots swarmed the city, fixing all damages and bringing people back to life wherever they touched. She swung down to a boy with black hair tipped blue, camera on his face, yet it was blurred to protect his identity. "Sir, tell me about this attack. I'm sorry to bring it up so soon, but the League cannot ignore an innocent's cry for help."

When he spoke, his voice went through a some kind of modifier. "Okay, Ladybug... Well, my sister and I were walking home from school. We had band practice later today- I guess that's cancelled. Anyway, we were minding our own business when Inferna came. I tried protecting my sister, but..." He took a deep breath. "She was too fast. My sister burned alive right in front of me, and I couldn't do anything."

"I'm sorry," Ladybug said, a hand coming to lay on the boy's shoulder. "I'm sorry we didn't stop her in time. That you had to see this. That you have to remember. If I could wipe that memory from you, I would, but..." A heavy sigh came from behind the camera. "Thank you for sharing." The process repeated with a couple more people- some young some old, and some who died during the experience. All were traumatized from this Akuma, and previous, yet they had hope. At the end, Ladybug turned the camera on herself, face stern. "I know this may not seem possible to you. I know this may look like editing, and that this may be a waste of time. But if you think that, spend a weekend in Paris. See for yourself what we've become. Ladybug out."

The only thing left was a letter from the League. It amounted to, "Don't send in prank calls anymore. You're taking away from those who need it."

Tim and Barbara were furious. But this issue needed care.

It was time to call the Batman.

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Bruce's brows drew closer and closer as the clips played, his anger obvious when the letter was shown. But, unsurprisingly, his reaction was the most subdued of those in the room.

Anger freely rolled off of Jason, Dick, Barbara, Damian, and even Alfred. Tim had already started to get his feelings under control as his fingers flew across the keyboard, his face reflecting his concentration. "I don't recognize the signature on the letter," Bruce stated. Which was strange, because he kept tabs on everyone who worked for the League. Just in case.

"You're not the only one," Tim said, keeping his eyes on the screen in front of him. "I can't find this guy anywhere. I'm starting to think he doesn't exist, but..."

"That would mean the League has someone who's either working with Hawkmoth- who seems to be the one attacking Paris- or someone who doesn't want the situation to be known," Dick said, crossing his arms. "Neither situation is good."

"So what can we do about it?" All eyes turned to Damian until he explained. "She said Hawkmoth was using the people's emotions against them. Members of the League aren't exactly the most emotionally strong, and a lot of them use negative emotions to strengthen themselves in battle."

"You're uncharacteristically angry about this," Bruce observed, watching as his youngest didn't react to his statement outside of raising an eyebrow. This wasn't the first time Damian reacted differently than expected. Bursts of outrage or annoyance at specific groups of people, almost muted emotions, nearly inhumane emotional recovery. At first, Bruce hoped the Wayne was simply getting a better control on his emotions, but after a while of observing... He realized that wasn't the case. "What's going on, Damian?"

The teen hesitated, the expression he usually made when he scolded himself appearing on his face. "What's your view on soulmates?"

Bruce blinked, having categorized that specific response as less than likely. "I think if you have one, you should be able to decide to seek them out or not. To have the option of creating a life with them if you so chose. Damian, is your soulmate in trouble?"

"My first language, as you know, is Arabic. But my second is French- if you can call it a second. The language simply appeared in my head the same time I was learning Arabic as a baby, according to my caretakers. I'd switch between the two without thought as a child," Damian explained. "While I was learning other languages, the same thing happened to Mandarin. When I had a pastry for the first time after I moved in with you, I could instantly tell what ingredients the chef used, how much, and what adding more or less of certain ingredient would do to the final product. With all this, I've deduced my soulmate is a French-Chinese baker," Damian revealed. "Now, with this information about Paris..."

"You think your soulmate is in danger," Dick accurately guessed. "Damn, that must be infuriating."

"How many times have they died when help from the League could have saved them," Damian wondered. "How many times have we let them down?"

"You have to remember, Baby Bird- your soulmate gets your skills, too," Tim called, still clacking away. "Whoever they are, they'd put up one hell of a fight if anyone tried attacking."

"I'm aware, Drake. But that doesn't mean they're invincible to drowning and getting crushed."

"Why do you think they're in Paris, specifically," Dick asked.

"It takes effort to feel negative emotions now," the youngest Wayne said. "All of you know I don't have the longest temper. But when I'm not thinking about it, my negative emotions just... dissapere. All of them."

"If what Ladybug said was true, and their terrorist uses emotions to take control of the person, that's likely what the people have taken to to avoid being controlled," Dick hummed, frowns appearing on everyone's faces.

"For now, let's inform the rest of the League," Bruce decided, walking to the computer. "Let's see if anyone has an idea of what's going on."

Alfred, meanwhile, frowned. If the Ladybug is in play... the world is at stake.

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.

.

Marinette never had good luck in her day to day life. She guessed all her good luck was spent as Ladybug, and she needed a luck balance or something. Which is how she chose the one outlet in the entire hotel that didn't work. Her phone died during the night, so she woke up late, the clock on the bedstand reading 8:17 am. The bus was set to leave at 8, but she wouldn't be surprised if Lila had convinced them to leave earlier. It was only thanks to the Kwamis that she got up that early, but she still missed the bus. She scrambled to get ready, sprinting out of the hotel after five minutes. She found a nearby allyway, ducking into it and letting Tikki fly out of her jacket. "We gotta hurry. Tikki, spots on!"

.

.

.

Damian scowled, pinching the bridge of his nose as the group in front of him scrambled to find their missing student. "Didn't you call roll," he asked in French, being the translator and main guide for Wayne Enterprises.

"Well, yes, but... I swear Marinette was with us!"

He was starting not to like the teacher too much. Or the gaggle of girls gossiping about how the missing student just wanted attention. "You realize Gotham has the highest crime rates in the US, correct?" At the teacher's shaky nod, he continued, his scowl deepening. "Then why on Earth would you allow one of your students to go missing?!"

He was about to rant more when the doors slid open, a girl with pigtails running through and out of breath. "I'm here," she gasped, her hands resting on her knees.

"Marinette! There you are."

The bluest eyes Damian had ever seen (a high honer considering his father and Grayson) looked up, holding regret. "Sorry, Madame. My phone died, so the alarm didn't go off. It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't. We're going to have to hurry through this to stay on schedule."

"Now hold on," Damian growled, steeping between the teacher and her students. "You were just saying that she was in the bus this morning. Now you're saying it's her fault you didn't check the bus properly before leaving?"

The woman paled as surprise grew in the girl's eyes. "It's alright now," she said, standing and catching her breath. "I'm here and safe, and we're already behind. Let's just leave this in the past and go on with the tour."

"You don't seem to understand the danger you could have been in, miss...?"

"Marinette."

"Marinette. Any one of Gotham's rouges could have picked you up, or a common thief or mugger could have cornered you. Especially if you were alone."

"I'm aware," she calmly responded. "That would have been their mistake. There's a reason few Akuma come after me anymore."

"Oh, yeah," a dark boy with a red cap said. "I keep forgetting your crazy soulmate, dudette."

"Soulmate," the dark girl with glasses asked, looking to the boy in confusion. "Marinette doesn't have a soulmate. She would have told me."

Marinette sighed through her nose, seemingly gathering herself. "Alya, I don't like talking about my soulmate. I don't know what they're comfortable sharing about their skills, so I try not to talk about it."

Damian's respect for the small girl shot through the roof. "Yeah, but the dudette was awesome against playground bullies," the boy said, gathering attention. "Kim, you remember?" A tall boy nodded, a grin on his face.

"It was really cool to watch this tiny little girl in pigtails completely destroy them," he commented. "Dunno how she did it to this day, but there were always two things Marinette's never stood for. Liars and bullies."

"Then how come she is one," the glasses girl from earlier asked, her brows furrowing. "Something doesn't add up."

"Maybe she changed," a girl with sasauge hair said. "People do that."

All of a sudden, the atmosphere changed, interest becoming hostility. "Guys, let's just do this," Marinette said, looking tired. She grabbed the extra pass in the tub and plopped it around her neck.

.

.

Lunch couldn't come soon enough for Marinette and Damian. The former because she forgot to grab breakfast, and the latter so he could talk to his family about Marinette's treatment within the class. He heard everything said about her during the tour, and his anger at the class only grew. Usually, he wouldn't care and just be annoyed at the gossip, but even he could see how kind she was. Several times, she interacted with the staff the others ignored, seeing if she could help them carry something or open doors or pick up something they dropped. She was fluent in English, too, and more often than not whatever language the employee spoke first. Which was odd, since WE prided itself on its diverse hiring and multicultural assistance, meaning most people wouldn't be able to converse in so many languages.

She spoke in well over 10 languages- all ones Damian was fluent in, as well.

What a coincidence.

Word about the French angel spread fast through the building, as Damian heard whispers following his steps. At one point, a group of employees came up to him to ask about the French girl, wondering if the rumors were true.

Most of them were, but he was on a mission so he didn't spend much (if any) time dealing with the people. When he found an empty meeting room without anything booked for the next hour, he called one of the best people he knew to get to the bottom of this, as much as he hated admitting it.

"Hello?"

"Drake. I need a favor."

.

.

Lunch went by without major incident- besides Lila claiming a 'Dimitri Wayne' was her soulmate and childhood friend.

Marinette inwardly scoffed, knowing that Damian had been living with his mother until he turned double digits, and that he spent a year or two getting used to Gotham before ever announcing his existence to the world. Even then, no one is even completely sure what he looks like, let alone his friends, and those who actually knew him would be sworn to secrecy by the Waynes. Again, though, she realized how little power she had to change her classmates' views on the Italian and her tall tales. Marinette's instincts told her of someone approaching from behind, and she whirled around on her heel without much thought, pausing as she saw the tour guide walking up to the group. "Okay, lunch's over! Let's get this show on the road, hm?"

Her class quickly gathered around the tall man, ready to continue the tour. Marinette, like usual, was in the back of the group, sketchbook out and pencil flying across the page.

"You're very skilled at drawing."

She didn't jump or whirl around, having heard the approaching footsteps and slight muttering a while ago. "Thank you, but I still have a long way to go." She quickly wrapped up the rough sketch, then closed the book, sending a bright smile at the boy. "And thank you for speaking in my defence this morning."

"Think nothing of it." The teen waved his hand dissmissively, eyes trailing back to the front for a moment.

"Still. My name's Marinette, by the way. Marinette Dupen-Cheng."

"Damian," he said, nodding. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise!" She smiled once again, her shoulders a little more lifted than what they were before. "So, how long have you worked at WE?"

They talked amongst themselves for the remainder of the tour, Damian pointing out and explaining more than the guide for most of the tour. And when there wasn't anything educational to talk about, they spoke a little of themselves, getting to know the person beside them a little better. Damian also asked more about the situation in Paris, earning a sad look from the girl beside him and quite a bit of new information. All too soon, though, the tour ended. Over the course of their conversations, Damian learned that that morning wasn't the first time Marinette had been left behind, and quickly deduced that it wouldn't be the last with the children called her classmates. So, when the time to part came, he offered an alternative course of action.

"Gotham can be a beautiful city. Why don't I show you a few inspiring scenic places?" Marinette blinked at the teen, but smiled.

"Let me ask Madame real quick- I'm sure she won't mind too much."

[normal-thoughts-official]

aaaand we are back back again with malec livewatch! you can read the first and second parts before if you wanna, or filter out “malec livewatch” if ur tired of this absolute bullcrap

yes i know it’s been years. not my fault okay i was studying

today: post-wedding 1×12! and finally freedom from the terrors of s1

forever a slut for that scene where Magnus just does that hand movement and a bunch of shit starts showing up in the conveniently empty table ugh we stan. imagine if the special effects had been this good all the time they really used up 10 out of their 15 dollars and all the two favors from cousin Mike for this one. 1×12 was so inspired tbh only valid episode

Alec's clothes look so much better without the stupid ugly blazer? could do without the high waisted pants (why) but he looks so much better and also more comfortable. again i hope the costume department staff got a big, fat paycheck because the difference we see in him during the wedding vs post-wedding alone is just insane. he looks so much better and more comfortable and more himself, the blazer made him look stiff and again DOESNT MATCH THE REST. also nice touch that the blazer is the only part of his clothing with gold, the sh wedding color. he gets that off and everything looks so much better

Magnus looks even better post wedding too. like the clothing is already *chef's kiss* but he looks even prettier afterwards somehow. the hair is a little softer and he's less stiff as a whole (for obvious reasons), and aaaa hes so beautifulllll he's so prettyyyy look at his perfect soft little hair falling softly over his head and the PINK STREAKS possibly the best Magnus look i said what i said. especially with him all soft and smiley like that i big love him

sexiest thing about Magnus is how Jace does anything and hes like NO BITCH

the way he says "warlock tracking is stronger" with that smile......... hes so prety

that's a deep inhale he makes before using the tracking spell lmao u ok buddy?

oof i can only imagine how he felt when he was doing the tracking and he was suddenly hit with an image of Camille screaming and hitting in his direction,,,....,,,,,,, Fuck

love how Raphael just locked her in the basement thats so sexy of him we stan

"i punched her there's no way she'll help me" ugh still salty that clary of all ppl got to punch her but not Raphael or Magnus fuck this tbh

STOP MAKING ME LOOK AT CLACE

they both look so giddy and happy to be talking after the whole wedding thing + camille drama like don’t look at me. alec can barely look at magnus because he’s so agitated but you have the smile on his face and magnus is also smiling disbelievingly and i just doaudjsuoiadsa i love they

seriously tho the way magnus smiles..... so private and disbelieving but also so obvious and he’s even looking down like he never expected stuff to go down this well..... bro i stan

i had forgotten about the specific cadence in which alec talks? lmao. there’s a certain tilt to his voice when he says “it’s so INTENSE” that i really love

also that’s a really funny line like honey who the fuck are you to complain about anything being intense. ur the most dive or die bitch in this entire building. and we stan

alec’s WIDE ASS SMILE when magnus says “you certainly know how to make a statement” I CRY. magnus looks so proud of him and still disbelieving that alec went this hard for him and alec is just still on cloud 9 that he really Did That and came out and magnus is just proud of him and wow he really gets to have this and duahdsudhsadajsas???? i adore everything about them

the way maryse shows up and magnus immediately recoils and alec immediately straightens up like magnus is lowkey expecting rejection and alec is just bracing himself for one of the hardest fights of his life

also their expressions are so funny like maryse is LIVID she’s absolutely losing her mcfucking mind with anger homegirl’s head is about to explode and robert is just looking like he pissed on the carpet or something

the way alec doesn’t back down at all is so admirable too like!!!! it’s one thing to make a big fuck you gesture, it’s another to still hold your ground against your abusers after that fact. but he really stands there and goes “this isn’t about you” “i’m the same person i’ve always been” and doesn’t give her an inch of room for clownery. like again once alexander gideon lightwood makes up his mind there’s no stopping him and there’s no going back and he’s just so fucking strong??? he really said “from now on i’m out and you’re going to absolutely deal with that and i will not compromise a single thing” and the lightwoods just had to deal with that lmaoooo 

you can see it in maryse’s face too, like after the “i’m the same person i’ve always been” she just pauses, realizing that she lost this battle without even knowing, she was on top of it a second ago and now there’s nothing she can do anymore and she’s just shook. and all that’s left for her is to scoff at magnus and leave, because that’s it, she lost every hold she had on him

alec’s little mouthed “what?” at “and all for a downworlder” too. i think part of him was like “wow she’s backing down already?” because you know he expected this to be a lot harder i think lmao. but i also like to think that there’s a side of “mom what the fucking fuck have you seen him he’s gorgeous and kind and smart and amazing and literally the best person i could have fallen in love with but go off i guess”

robert going all “just give her time” like he doesn’t understand what’s happening here at all. he clearly plays the “good cop” in the lightwood’s abusive dynamic tbh, like people often brush him off as being just spineless but i honestly think that he’s just the other side of her manipulative coin. specially with izzy, like, when izzy said fuck it and completely let go of maryse’s hold on her? that’s where robert came in, being the accepting, “nice” parent who listened to her and cared, and making sure she’d keep her loyalties. because he didn’t really stand up for izzy either and in the end he kept her still glued to the lightwood family through that, and kept defending maryse and izzy listened to him because he was robert. and i think that’s what’s happening here too, him trying to frame this as “don’t worry, she’ll come around” because he knows right then that alec is absolutely going to turn their back on them if that’s what it takes for her to be happy so he immediately slides in and reframes this under an affection light where everything will be alright! even if honestly i don’t think that’s what alec is really thinking about at all, i think he was 100% ready for a showdown 

and robert is clearly so disapproving and yikes at the whole thing too but he pretends he isn’t and like lmao

shoutout to their faces when robert asks “are you two in love?” like magnus just turns around like oh hell no we’re not gonna have this conversation and alec lights up for just a second with a small smile before he’s like wait wait no shit shit shit we’ve just met no of course there’s no love (and like... i don’t think there is per se, because i think love is something that takes longer to settle in, specially for alec, but i think the idea that he could talk openly about being in love with a man and even fall fully in love with magnus one day makes him super happy you know?) lmao dorks

tho tbh i think magnus shuts down that conversation immediately to avoid heartbreak. because i think that for this whole thing he was expecting alec to say something he’d hate hearing to get his parents’ approval, you know? like like i said it’s really unexpected and surprising/inspiring that alec didn’t back down an inch there, and i think he was expecting alec to kind of fall back slightly now, like, he played his cards and now he would negotiate with them, you know? find a place to make them comfortable. instead alec gives them a complete fuck you and he’s like... damn obviously super pleased but also waiting for the other shoe to drop

he just steps in like “pls no” and stops that conversation right there 

the way alec takes a deep breath and magnus opens his mouth then closes again quickly not knowing what to say and then changes the subject.... he’s really so scared of this talk and i just aaa

alec literally never fucking stops going from magnus’ eyes and lips in quick succession like alec. alec please. stop being horny for just a second man. please alec i’m begging you

it’s so cute how magnus mentions a date and alec is immediately like “hell YEAH we should do that” no hesitation like he’s 100% ready to leave immediately right now (i see his pause between “wanna... i don’t know, get a drink?” and “....sometime?”, i see it, you can’t fool me alexander) and also the fact that his first suggestion is something that he hates but that he knows for a fact magnus likes is so cute, like he immediately goes for magnus’ interests here and we stan

i also think that he’s come to associate drinking = dates after 1x06 and the way magnus called him specifically for a drink before he showed up too, like... it’s cute how he immediately came to associate those things because of magnus and just jumps into that because that’s what he knows. he’s so eager and like good for him

magnus’ SMILE when he says that like bro he can see how stoked alec is to go on a date with him they are adorable he is so fucking HAPPY i doubt he expected such a great outcome from this and yet here they are

ALEC DOES THE WHOLE LOOKING AT HIS LIPS IN QUICK SUCCESSION THING ONE LAST TIME BEFORE THE SCENE ENDS SHUT UP OH MY GOD HE NEVER STOPS. MATT DADDARIO THANK YOU FOR MY RIGHTS

next part

[millennial-star-gazer]

The Draconic Demon Within: Chapter 3

The Draconic Demon Within (Originally for Nalu Lovefest 2017 on previous celestialgeekmage accounts and Angst Week 2015 on Twishadowhunter/teamedwardjace2 in the past and Vera's April 2018 Prompt challenge on cosmicdragonwizard account )

Genres: Romance, Friendship/Family, Drama/Angst, Hurt/ Comfort, & New Adult Fanfiction

Vera's April 2018 Prompts: Soul, Empyrean, Savage, Memory, Trust, Fear, Unstoppable , Resilient, Supernatural (Implied) Lost (Implied) and Loathing.

Nalu Lovefest 2017 Prompts: Dreams

Nalu Week 2019 Prompts (Implied:) Lost, Curse, Trial, Treasure, Chance and possibly Bare.

Pairing: Nalu/EndLu,( Natsu x Lucy/ E.N.D. x Lucy)

Rating: M for language, steamy and mature adult sexual content (all consensual) in these and future chapters. Reader Direction is advised.(You have been warned!)

Summary: Now faced with the reality of who he is truly is, the son of Igneel must contend with the new darker instincts of his new demonic identity- all while navigating through his ever-growing, intense feelings for a particular celestial wizard. Originally a Submission (semi -au) for Nalu lovefest 2017 (on my previous celestialgeekmage account and now  one of my  entries for @nalu-week 2019 with chapter 3. (Also was on my earliest previous accounts of teamedwardjace/Twishadowhunter in the past. Also part of Vera's April 2018 prompt challenge from fic-writers appreciation on cosmicdragonwizard).

1/2 entries for @nalu-week 

Chapter 3: When A Star Dies

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Hey guys, it's your girl MillennialStarGazer back again! This time, it's with another installment of TDDW which is also happens one of my entries weeks for @nalu-week  2019. I was actually working on Chapter 3 along with those for my other fics (including WIPs) on my ipod . Took me some time to finish on account my other writing projects and responsibilities in my life— though I'm glad that this chapter's finally posted. This chapter's title was inspired by A Billion Stars Will Die Today from the incredible Nights Amore who's one of my favourite modern composers. (This evocative score and other tracks can be found here). Oh and major kudos to my friends/mutual's @bmarvels and @doginshoe for taking the time to be my betas whose positive feedback helped me to further develop and improve this chapter during its draft stage. Your help was invaluable—thanks so much ladies! Anyways, without further ado , here's chapter 3—enjoy!

(Note:   I’ve had to use  an alternative means of inserting divider/ page breaks by inserting pictures (or typing) in light of the original  tumblr  feature seemingly being removed by @staff .   Anyway, please be sure to  scroll down past cut for disclaimer,  corresponding links, legend and actual chapter content).

Disclaimer: Fairytail does not belong to me, but to the most honourable Hiro-sensei instead, for whom without this work of love wouldn't be possible.

Read Previous Chapters of TDDW and on platforms here:

(Copy and paste the links into another  window if need be)

A. Tumblr

Previous (Click Here:) (or here https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/179816334878/the-draconic-demon-withinreupload-from/amp): 

 Next (Click Here:) (or here: https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/614628807073251328/the-draconic-demon-within-chapter-4-a-demons)

B. Fanfiction (Click Here:) (or here:  https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13113898/1/The-Draconic-Demon-Within-Reupload-from-cosmicdragonwizardaccounts)

C. A03 (Click Here:) (or here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17365061/chapters/40861307))

2. Ongoing Master  Post Of All My Writing (Click Here:) (or here: https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/179665258923/master-fic-rec-post)

Legend:

Italic: Song Lyrics/Quotes (or flashback dialogue)

Bold: First Person Thoughts

Bolded Italics: Empathized, stylized Word(s) or bloodythirsty fantasies

Bolded Italics (Within and Outside Bracket) including for author's side notes also known as (A/N:) within brackets (though none for side-notes in this chapter ).

"The stars are not wanted now;

put out every one,

Pack up the moon and

dismantle the sun;

Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;

For nothing now can ever come to any good."

(W.H. Auden: Funeral Blues)

Flashback

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Lucyyyyy!"

Natsu's alarmed scream of Lucy's name rang out. Arms were catching his partner before she hit the ground. Just minutes before , the duo found themselves in the midst of a grueling stand off against two of Tartarus most notorious demons. Natsu versus Jackal ; Lucy versus Tempester who she battled with a valiant proficiency that her best friend or any other team would be immensely proud of;

"Whoosh and Whirl."

Only to be to no avail when a summoned whirlwind slammed into her light frame at the full force of a freight train before she could even blink.

"Lucy— can you hear me?"

"Please Luce— you gotta be okay! You.. can't... be gone... just can't be. If I Lose you...God! I can't... not again!"

Brittle words spilled from the lips of a tortured man rocking back and forth with a broken angel in his arms who never seemed so fragile.

My god... this pain... feels like everything is being blown apart! How viciously ironic those words proved to be. Natsu's entire world truly did seem to be crumbling around him.

"Lucy...open.. your eyes.." He gasped, frantic air being ripped from his lungs ." Let.. me know you're okay!... I'm .. begging ya'... just stay with ...me... Please?" The fire wizard's desolate voice broke on the last word. Gods above, what he wouldn't give to see or hear any vital signs of life from in motionless woman in his arms ; a single breath , a heartbeat or two, a twitch of fingers—anything! Honestly, he couldn't fathom how his life would have any meaning if his best friend's light was torn away from him.

Don't think I'd be able to go on.,,

It was then E.n.d realized his world would be so much darker without Lucy's guiding light— nothing more than a starless void. Not to mention, the indescribable , excruciating torment that would haunt their friends for years at a time if she didn't survive.

I couldn't stand to see them suffer like that. Luce has to survive — not just for my sake, but her own and the others… Please let her... what the hell?!

The unwelcome noise of steady, advancing footsteps broke through Natsu's reverie ; whose head whipped towards Jackal with a baleful growl.

"No— get away!"

"Ooh look at you barring your fangs at us like that!" Jackal was still sauntering towards the other wizards at a measured pace.

"Stay back!" The menacing snarl salamander slayer let loose in warning was positively bestial. Not to mention, his arms were automatically tightening around Lucy— sheer natural protective instinct. "Don't ya' dare come any closer!"

That bastard better leave us alone...

Good God how his fingers were just itching to char that infuriating , cocky smirk off the other demon's pathetic face.

But doing that would mean letting go out of Lucy and leaving her unprotected out in the open— not happening .

"Well aren't you quite the big,  scary, menacing, demon''. came Jackal's answering taunt, eyes flashing in sinister amusement.

" I said stay back..."

"Yeah, I don't think so," said Tartaros underling let out a taunting cackle of glee; which only served to boil the blood in Natsu's veins.

"Urghh–leave us alone or I'll literally burn the both of ya' to a pile of ashes for what you did to Lucy! "

Can't help but seriously want to tear them limb from limb right now...

Spasms racked the hybrid's sinewy frame at the same time as visceral images were flooding his brain from rising bloodlust.

Shredded remnants of flesh hanging from what was left of Jackal and Tempster's throat, a flash of extending talons.; spurting blood , hands instinctively pressing against punctured jugulars in frantic vain, agonized noises of agonized gurgling that were savagely pleasing to the ear. All for daring to lay a hand on the woman most precious—

Enough! God.. What the hell is wrong with me? And all these unexpected and strange, bloodthirsty instincts .. where are they coming from?! I mean sure I've been enraged enough to want avenge or thrash those who harmed my friends! But never the urge to kill —save for Jellal... and even that wasn't as graphic!

"Lost in thought?"

Jackal's taunting voice cut through E.n.d.'s reverie.

" Bastard— just leave us alone already!" His response was an incensed roar that was raising several octaves. "Why's that's so hard for ya' to get through your thick skull? As for my best friend— you'd better hope her heart's still beating or swear to God, I'll —”

"Jesus ...” The other demon muttered, his otherwise airy words laced with mild exasperation.

"Why are you so hung up over this celestial wizard of yours? Seriously dude... ya' might be one of the most powerful demons ever created— but you're kind of harshin' my vibe . Just chill.."

Scumbag… I'm either gonna save Lucy or avenge her...

"Look---no need to seem like you wanna rip our heads off, okay? Your woman's gonna be just fine. She's not dead— only unconscious. Hell, she's even got a pulse . Check for yourself if you don't believe me."

" Go to hell!" Natsu spat, words dripping with lethal venom." I don't take orders from sadistic psychopaths! And you'd honestly better not be lying!"

"I'm not. Just check, would ya'?"

Not trusting Jackal's claim , the fire demon lowered his head to press an ear against Lucy's chest; just for shock to shoot through his veins when what could only be the most precious noise in the entire universe could be heard — the steady beat of her heart!

Lucy's really okay?

Fic Tag Squad: @fuck-yeah-nalu @fortheloveofnaluevents @nalubookclub @nalu-week

@petri808 @magnolia726 @ccrispy

@yukimcffblog @i-write-fanfics-to-procrastinate   @writer-appreciation  @caandleworks @caandlle  @rougeminded @rougescribe @cobblepottantrum @lovelyluce @dark0angel13  @sovay-says

@soprana-snap @phoenix-before-the-flame @phoneboxfairy @bearpluscat @narutoyaoifan

@mautrino @goddesofimortality @nalufever  @thecelestialchick @nalu-natic @bearandbirdfan @pyroandtheprincess @mautrino @lucielhyung @smappybubbles @seehunnybees @lover-of-the-light117 

@rayhneatess  @nothingbutwordsstuff     @shootingstarssel @chamilsanya  @acidrain1698  @chamilsanya   @narutoyaoifan @superfreakerz  @nalu-natic @thecelestialchick @nalufever @moeruhoshi @h-eartfilias @lemonade-of-gods @fairywithajetblackheart  @katana-no-neko @mercurius-orion @nunnatheinsanegerbil @bearpluscat @shootingstarssel @kayty-of-fiore @narutoyaoifan @kaycha1989 @chiire @pyroandtheprincess @lovelyluce @sovay-says @satyrykal @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @phoneboxfairy @phoenix-before-the-flame @yukimcffblog @precenna @sugarpolis @fairywithajetblackheart @mercurius-orion @dark0angel13 @h-eartfilias @hungrypeanut  @shootingstarssel @sovay-says @satyrykal  @narutoyaoifan  @moeruhoshi @doginshoe @bmarvels

A/N: There you have it- chapter 3 folks! Fun fact about the title of this chapter: As you're aware, the title was inspired by previously mentioned score of the same name; Not to mention, how aptly-named this installment is if the events of this chapter, Lucy's type of magic and 's mindset are anything to go by. Not only is Lucy a celestial wizard, but she also happens to one of the precious lights or stars in Natsu/E.n.d.'s universe which he couldn't bear to lose if it were to be blotted out (from a metaphorical sense of course). Nor would he ever wish for his friends to suffer that kind of pain (as seen in the original anime/manga and sequel) . Hence why one of our favourite demons was so distraught when he truly believed Lucy to be possibly dead. Anyways, just thought I would provide a little more insight for those who were wondering.

All right, that's all for now. as always, don't forget to let me know what you think, like, reblog and share! Oh and be sure to stay tuned for the next chapter which will up ASAP once there's a chance for the writing process to start . Feel free to check out the rest of my writing as well! (Corresponding links are above, in the navigation bar and bio if reading this on tumblr. See other writing platforms for links as well! ) All right, that's it for now! Until next time— take care!

[awkwardanime]

Isao Takahata: Realism (1988/1991)

A career that spanned over 55 years, with 18 TV series and a staggering 21 feature length films associated with his name from 1961 to 2016 either as a Storyboard Artist, Producer, Writer or Director - there is no doubt that Isao Takahata was one of the most influential people in the history of Animation.

Sadly passing away on April 5 at the age of 82, this ordinary man left behind some very unordinary works which still to this day resonate and touch the hearts of millions around the world, proving that “cartoons” can be every bit as compelling as live-action cinema. A person’s art is always a reflection of their views and beliefs, and it was no different here. The film-maker’s success stemmed from one place: realism.

Takahata’s breakout story came funnily enough almost 20 years after he first began working in the industry, with the release of Grave of the Fireflies in 1988 - his debut within the retreat of Ghibli, the Studio he co-founded with a man he called both his “rival” and “friend” alongside producer Toshio Suzuki. These were the years where competition with Miyazaki brought out the best in his work, all the while making sure to never stray away from his methods of expressing his stories to the viewers.

This is the movie that has been described by most as: “the best movie you’ll never want to watch again” and can you argue with that? Grave of the Fireflies is the perfect example of Takahata’s realism that he showed in his movies. It was far from the fantastical world of Miyazaki, with nothing but truth hitting us viewers every single second. And with every second, frame and scene it grew harder to watch yet at the same time impossible to look away. I do this movie no justice.

“They think people back then were much more noble and that they wouldn’t be able to do such things themselves. But I think that’s not right. We make such stories to give people courage, but then the audience feels the story has nothing to do with them. So I wanted a common ground for the audience to relate to”

Takahata stated numerous times when promoting the film that history will always show the fighters and citizens of war to be noble and honest, but that is not the case. He showed what it was and still is like for young people battling through devastation, whether that be war or a natural disaster. Portraying this in animation and not live-action meant he and his staff had to get the facial features and expressions of the main characters (Seita and Setsuko) spot on. As he was in the production process, he felt that both characters would be challenging to animate in an expressive way showing their despair and sorrow:

“Just like today’s junior high students, a 14 year old looks unemotional or grumpy or unemotionally unbalanced. It’s reflected in their bodies and in their facial expressions. But animation is basically line-drawings and expressions are always exaggerated, so it’s hard to animate such expressions”

Takahata and the author of the original short story(based on true events) Akiyuki Nosaka told interviewers that as hard it may have been, this story is actually better suited for animation, and in my opinion they were definitely right. Could this have worked with two young people? I think no as the sight of a 4 year old girl suffering might have looked too over-sentimental, and it’s not easy to find a four year old actress who can nail every scene. It was clear that Takahata was not one to follow the norm, and he proved that here with the introduction of a new technique that up-to that point had not been seen in Japanese animation: the illustration outlines were done in brown and not the usual black. The then 52 year old did this I think to give a softer feeling to the screen, and by that I mean to not portray the illustrations in an even bolder way, as the drawings themselves gave that sense of dark reality already. This little attention to detail may not seem like much, but I feel it proves that the Director constantly wanted to challenge himself, and as time went on that never changed.

“I’m not saying fantasy is bad. I myself enjoy the genre from time to time. However, I don’t agree with getting an audience excited by seeing a character do something incredible that defies logic”

That sense of realism continued with the ‘slice of life’ story which follows the woman Taeko trying to figure out her life in 1980′s Tokyo. 1991′s Only Yesterday is where we saw Isao Takahata in a more earnest mood, but still with that same observance. Here, the plot may differ greatly, but that reflective style is still used, as Takahata was so good at taking us into the minds of his characters and observing their imaginations set off.

“For many years I have wanted to improve on the simplistic flat-pane image of cel animation. But I didn’t want to solve this by going into the 3D-CG method of three-dimensionality and substantiality”

The realism may be the same to his previous work, but the animation style greatly differs as the frames are drawn in a style that I have never seen before, with colours and details at the edges of the screen fading away to suggest that incompleteness of memory. It almost seems like sketches that were taken right from a children’s book, with the watercolours beautifully adding that light-tone to the scenes.

“I wanted to solve this by a method of reduction of not drawing everything on the screen, in order to stimulate people’s imagination and raise the level of artistry”

The thing is, I was deeply moved when watching Grave of the Fireflies. With Only Yesterday, I felt exactly the same, and that’s what is so staggering about this filmmaker. The man never once failed to achieve that feat in all of his works, the ability to make me feel more connected to these uniquely drawn characters than I have with most others in Animation. Fireflies has its poetic tragedy, this film rather takes me aback with is beauty and grace, all the while keeping its realism.  Only Yesterday is a movie that every scene ebbs and flows with Taeko, and we see Takahata produce these moments that are so fleeting in life. A perfectly good-feel feature that proved to Japan in 1991 that Isao Takahata can not only create another blockbuster, he can do it his way.

“I see infinite potential for animation. I don’t know if that is a wonderful thing or not. All of the arts, whether they be music, drama, or painting, have infinite potential. But no one knows whether this unlimited potential can be a force for creating many works that can offer delight to people”

Beautiful, personal animated films that are some of the genre’s greatest, the soft-spoken man was always alert observing the world around him, the people around him and their “ordinary human qualities”. Touching the hearts of millions around the world like a cool welcoming breeze (apart from Fireflies which hit me like a brick), his influence is never in question as hundreds of animators live action filmmakers cite him as one of their teachers, without ever meeting in person. One of these people is Screenwriter Michael Arndt who, after seeing ‘My Neighbours the Yamadas’, was inspired to finally sit down and write ‘Little Miss Sunshine’ after years of procrastination.

He rarely ever put a pencil or pen to paper during any animation process, a huge contrast to the design-based approach of his colleague. The stories he wrote and released are what made his sophisticated, character-driven films a huge success, exploring a diverse range of themes and aesthetic styles while keeping within the realm of reality.

Mr. Isao Takahata, we say goodbye to a true poetic master, but through your absolutely stunning films that you kindly left us, your name will forever live in our hearts.

RIP Isao Takahata

29 October 1935 - 5 April 2018

[seeksstaronmewni]

Oh, Joy! The Insanely Amazing Art of Animation Cartooning in Ren & Stimpy

In the era and world of the “modern” cartoon, there’s one show that started and defined most of the cartoons that we watch today... and that show is Spümcø’s/s The Ren & Stimpy Show.

What is there to love about a crazy, wacky, gross, dark and violent cartoon that people say is “ground-breaking”?

The gags. The detail. The sound. The stock music. The design. The animation. The layout artists...

I could go on about a show that was a part of @nickanimation’s/@nickelodeon... although, while considered a “kids” show, it truly is one of those... “cartoons for MEN”.

WARNING FOR HATERS: Before I go on, in regards to the show’s controversial creator, If his wrongs cause you to think hatefully of him, AVOID THIS POST! Don’t associate your hate with my posts and tweets about this ground-breaking cartoon.

Anyway, let’s look deep into the magic of the wackiest cartoon ever created that changed animation--namely “Western” animation--forever and for good...

THE TALENT

Under the creators Lynne Naylor-Reccardi, Jim Gomez, Felix Forte, and controversial creator John K., many gifted artists were a part of this amazing series, including @donshank, Charlie Bean, Carey Yost,  Bob Camp, Chris Savino, @stephendestefano, the late and great Chris Reccardi (I began this article prior to his death on May 2nd, 2019 A.D.), Marc Perry, Mr. Lawrence (the “Ooh! My leg! My leg...” guy), Vincent Waller, Donovan Cook, Larry Murphy, Richard Pursel, @gadworks​, @ncrossanimation​, and many others. These people, many of whom were in the layout department, would go on from Spümcø to work on some of the most popular pieces of “Western” animation in history, like Spongebob Squarepants, The Powerpuff Girls, Samurai Jack, Dexter’s Laboratory, Star vs. the Forces of Evil, Mickey Mouse (Paul Rudish era), The Incredibles, the also ground-breaking The 2 Stupid Dogs/Super Secret Secret Squirrel Show and so much more!

One thing to note about these creatives is that John K.’s production company, Spümcø, was based in Canada, and so were its staff and creatives. I note this as most Canadian cartoons these days have no creatives who work in popular American animation (save for Wild Kratts character designer Alan Stewart, who did character design for some Season 7--or, in “reboot terms”, season 2--episodes of The Powerpuff Girls, as well as Lauren Faust’s My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic and Season 1 of Johnny Test). Most Canadian cartoons these days are on PBS or Cartoon Network, and some of those are imported from Teletoon or YTV. Such Canadian cartoons as Total Drama’s franchise, The Adventures of Benjamin Bear, My Pet Goldfish is Evil, and the like don’t have creatives who work on more “American” media.

Certain talents of Ren & Stimpy included Michael Fontanelli, Charlie Bean, Vincent Waller and Eddie Fitzgerald (creator of CN’s Tales of Worm Paranoia), who went on to contribute their artist talents in the YouTube Poop-phenomenon Adventures of Sonic the Hedgehog, which somewhat resembles that art direction of The Ren & Stimpy Show. Such talents also contributed to another insane-looking cartoon, Film Roman’s The Twisted Tales of Felix the Cat. Likewise, one of my favorite character designers, Carey Yost, who contributed to The Powerpuff Girls, Uncle Grandpa and Spongebob Squarepants, was a major layout artist on this show. Charlie Bean (Samurai Jack, The Powerpuff Girls, The Twisted Tales of Felix the Cat, Adventures of Sonic the Hedgehog) and Don Shank (most of the above, plus Sym-Bionic Titan) also served as layout artists, and they with Carey created a gem of a Cartoon Network Minisode, Buy One, Get One Free*, which reflects the animation and art of Spümcø and features creatives of Spümcø.

THE DETAILS

First thing to note in both art and animation is the barrier-breaking levels of exaggeration. The “wild take” is a common element to slapstick cartoons like The Ren & Stimpy Show, and the controversial creator was a part of Hanna-Barbera Cartoons (which developed the Cartoon Network and its studios). Many Spümcø creatives would work at H-B, too. Hanna-Barbera, who worked with animation legends like Tex Avery, would create some of the wildest takes in cartoons with A Pup Named Scooby-Doo!, but The Ren & Stimpy Show’s Season 2 opener “In The Army”, written & directed by Bob Camp, features what is probably the wildest wild take ever conceived by man in the history of history:

“You don’t want to anger that big, dopey...”

“...sar...”

*( Sound Ideas, BOING, CARTOON - FLAT JEWS HARP BOING )*

*clink!*

*( Sound Ideas, THUMP, CARTOON - TUBE THUNK 01 )* [+12 pitch]

*glass breaks*

*(  Sound Ideas, WOBBLE, CARTOON - SAW BLADE WOBBLE, MEDIUM )*

This wild take is really slow, huh?

Wait for it...

“GYAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

As if that weren’t wild enough, his brain pops out of his skull! Now, that’s more than just icing on the cake... it’s GENIUS!

Teen Titans GO! is perhaps the peak in the evolution of the “modern” cartoon that began with Ren & Stimpy, and in the hands of producer/director Luke Cormican, a layout artist on Ren & Stimpy’s “Adult Party Cartoon” episodes. It’s very nice that, in TTG episode “The Streak (Part 2)”, there was the parody illustration of duos in media, comparing Robin to Ren and Beast Boy to Stimpy. Some of the character designers on TTG worked on shows that included creatives from The Ren & Stimpy Show, too, namely Chris Battle.

One of the most popular episodes, of course, is the season one finale, Stimpy’s Invention.

These shots from the scene of Stimpy attempting to invent something are just beautiful! Great attention to detail and the lighting (including effects design) give a very cinematic, theatrical feel to a mere, 11-minute episode of a TV show. The art of the series has the charm of a 1940′s Paramount/Famous Studios “Noveltoon”, the Bob Clampett-directed Merry Melodies/Looney Tunes shorts (a major inspiration for John K.), and the Saturday morning cartoons of the 1960s, and the show’s creatives would become part of certain modern cartoons in the 1990s, some of which were dubbed by @cartoonnetwork as “Cartoon Cartoons”.

Also cinematic to the quality is the authentic film grain, a result of recording the cels (animated frame by frame on their respective backgrounds) on film. The deterioration of the episode’s film masters make it look believably like something out of the 1960s or even The Golden Age of Hollywood, the 1940s! (I personally dislike the quality that the videotape masters add to the picture, though. It may be that, in the future, UHD / HD prints could use the actual film masters, though!)

Some shots of Stimpy in Stimpy’s Invention have a color mistake where, like in the title card of the pilot “Big House Blues”, Stimpy’s nose is red instead of blue. It looks pretty swell on him, though.

The grooves and moves that Ren & Stimpy make during the montage of the song Happy Happy Joy Joy are filled with bouncy, weight-distributing pieces of animation, with lots of squash and stretch.

Speaking of “squash and stretch”, the above pics are of the extremes as Stimpy does a take of joy when he succeeds at making Ren be happy.

The takes of the characters really stretch their design and animation. Aurally, a common sound effect to accent these takes is a quick, loud record scratch, and their shaking/trembling movements often sound like a record rapidly skipping.

Regarding one of my favorite character designers, much of the designs by @cheyennecurtisart and @lynnvwang in early episodes of Disney’s Star vs. the Forces of Evil (particularly “Brittney’s Party”) are highly graphic and detailed, and that work of hers reminds me of the designs by Chris & Lynne Reccardi, Jim Smith, John K. and others. Very similar are the designs of @stephendestefano on Disney’s Mickey Mouse, which are also very graphic and extreme with character takes and injury aftermaths.

In the infamous Happy Happy Joy Joy sequence in “Stimpy’s Invention”, to stop himself from being controlled by the Happy Helmet, Ren whacks it (and thus himself) with a hammer to break it..

...and every hit pushes the extremes of not only the looks of his body, but also the styles of the psychotic-looking backgrounds.

Often in the show is a lot of mental breakdowns, including the end of Stimpy’s Invention as Ren goes from being the angriest he ever was in his entire life...

...to becoming very jovial as he comes to love being angry. That also causes a change in these psychedelic, psychotic backgrounds. The practice of such backgrounds came to other cartoons of the 1990s, such as The Shnookums and Meat Funny Cartoon Show, in the episode “Night of the Living Shnookums”, with art direction by Lynne Naylor.

Another great episode, one of my favorites, is “The Boy Who Cried Rat!”, directed by Vincent Waller, who, replying to my tweet compliment, described the episode as “a chance to tip the hat to all the amazing cartoonist/ writer/ funny people who took the time to invest theirselves into their artwork for the enjoyment and tutelage of the regular folks and cartoonists to come.” The episode involves a literal game of “Cat and Mouse” and Stimpy tries to make a living for him and Ren by unleashing his inner cat in service to a couple. It probably bases itself, of course, on Tom and Jerry, and Ren’s costume references the fashion of Mickey Mouse.

Eventually, Stimpy is forced into eating the rat whom Ren plays (this reminds me of another classic cartoon, @paramountpictures’s Noveltoon called Cheese Burglar, featuring Herman and Katnip). In terms of cartoon physics, though, how did Ren become small enough to fit inside Stimpy’s mouth?

This episode features a very clever, unexpected visual gag that is the result of being hit with a frying pan.

See? and it’s not even a violent image, either.

Sometimes, the show would feature various segments among the episodes, including their close-out segment “What’ll We Do ‘Til Then”. The Ren & Stimpy Show actually predates Animaniacs (1993), VeggieTales (1993) and Uncle Granpda (2013), which were similar with a variety of segment material.

THE ANIMATION

The animation is certainly something when one considers the defining quality of this show’s animation, which occasionally was produced by Rough Draft Studios in Seoul, Korea, one of the most popular animation studios today. There’s also some great timing directors, like David Feiss (Cow and Chicken, I Am Weasel, All Dogs Go to Heaven 2, The Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy), Bob Jacques, James Tim Walker (Samurai Jack, The Powerpuff Girls, Tom and Jerry: The Magic Ring), Kent Butterworth (Adventures of Sonic the Hedgehog) and even the awesome Tony Fucile (Osmosis Jones, The Iron Giant, Tom and Jerry: The Movie, Inside Out, The Little Mermaid), who was uncredited for a few episodes like “In The Army” and “Ren’s Toothache”).

This scene of animation from the episode “Nurse Stimpy” (frame shown above) is one of the very best pieces of animation ever done in the series. The balance between slow and mostly fast-paced animation/timing, along with weight, looks very cinematic--of theatrical-quality animation (like Don Bluth, Tony Fucile, etc.). The film’s quality is fairly deteriorated here, but film specks and stuff add to the cinematic feel.

THE SOUND

The sound design, of course, done at Horta Editorial and Sound, which became/folded into Hacienda Post at Sabre Media Studios, was also defining for the modern cartoon as an unusual array of sound effects were used to accent all sorts of takes, impacts, etc. The use of Hanna-Barbera & Warner Bros. sound effects (mostly available from Sound Ideas) with Disney sound effects (mostly available from Hollywood Edge’s Cartoon Trax Volume One) became a very common blend for many sound designers, up to today. Hacienda Post’s founder and president, Timothy J. Borquez (Spongebob Squarepants, Samurai Jack, The Powerpuff Girls), served as the Re-Recording Mixer and Supervising Editor, as well as the uncredited sound designer, and considers the groundbreaking show to be “a laboratory for using classic sounds (in different contextual situations); adding Foley and new design to create "hybrid" textures and moments. We conscientiously did this and it opened up a whole new world for us! A lot of this was done on the mix stage.” He worked with talented sound editors like Michael M. Geisler, M.P.S.E., Michael A. Gollom, and sound/music editor William B. Griggs. Speaking of cartoon sound design expert Michael M. Geisler, M.P.S.E., in an Animation World Network article, Michael Geisler described the detailed process of sound design in a moment of the controversially violent scene in “Man’s Best Friend” (which never showed the credits): “Sometimes the eyelid closing and the eyelid opening are two very separate actions, and so each motion, open and close, must have different sound effects. In "Man's Best Friend," the classic Ren & Stimpy episode that introduces George Liquor, Ren smacks George with his own "Prize Bludgeoning Oar" and George's eye pops out of his head like a piece of meat. The eyelid does a wet sounding movement down over the eye until the eyelids meet and blink (splat, wet hit), and then slosh up again.” For some reason, however, on prints of that episode, George’s blink is silent.

The music for the show was usually unoriginal, very much like the series soundtrack to Spongebob, as it was mostly composed of music provided by Associated Production Music (APM). This included classical music, too, just as Tom and Jerry, Disney’s Silly Symphonies and Warner Bros.’ Merry Melodies/Looney Tunes would often use. Someone even created 3 volumes of Production Music from Ren & Stimpy, unofficial collections of APM music from the series. I kind of wish that they made those.

You may wonder at this point: After many years of seeing almost nothing of this series, how found I The Ren & Stimpy Show in my life?

I knew or remember very little of the show as I grew up (at least attempting to watch the episode “Ren’s Pecs” one Sunday afternoon in 2007 on Nick), but on August 13th, 2016 I saw another Spümcø project, the later Yogi Bear (or Ranger Smith) episode “Boo Boo Runs Wild”, on @adultswim. John K.’s approach to a classic Hanna-Barbera cartoon (CN doesn’t even air this stuff on anymore) was very inspiring. Looking the names of the team up on IMDb, I found that they were a part of many amazing cartoons that i grew up watching! In May 2017, recommended on my YouTube user were “disturbing” scenes from The Ren & Stimpy Show, including Ren’s insane threats in Sven Höek (the audio of which I heard in a YTP where the King [of Hyrule] goes psycho and does the same menacing threats) and perhaps a spiritual taste of Hell in Stimpy’s Fan Club. Ren’s acting (voiced then by creator John K) was so hilarious that, from that point onward, I desired to see more of this groundbreaking cartoon on which I was missing out.

On the day that I began to concept this post, June 18th, 2018, in my final visit to Toys ‘R Us (a local one, though I remember visiting the New York one in 2001), I got collectible Ren & Stimpy figures, and at the time of this post’s original concept I placed Ren and Stimpy in the presence of my Aku wacky wobbler.

It’s interesting that a 2018 Google spot regarding how children react to crowd noise used an excerpt from the episode Stimpy’s Fan Club. This practice is like certain phone commercials (namely T-Mobile, I think) that use some brief footage from “public domain” cartoons. Likewise, what Google did with that ad makes The Ren & Stimpy Show feel like a public domain cartoon (and the highly famous Merry Melodies/Looney Tunes and Popeye shorts were often distributed as “public domain” too, though WarnerMedia holds the ultimate rights to the shorts).

From a Christian viewpoint, The Ren & Stimpy Show is sometimes controversial, but its biggest controversy is whether it’s really a kids show or not--perhaps more of an adult show--mostly due to violence and intense situations like the aforementioned mental breakdowns (this excludes the “Adult Party Cartoon” episodes as those were deliberately produced for adults). Of course, classic cartoons of MGM, Warner Bros. and other studios would often show violence, sensuality, smoking, and alcoholics (even though Cartoon Network/Boomerang still rates them “TV-G”), so even those weren’t produced completely with children in mind. That’s why I consider this show and the aforementioned classic cartoons as “cartoons for MEN”.

The humor and heart of The Ren & Stimpy Show isn’t the purest either, given all of Ren’s hate and violent anger, but Stimpy’s Fan Club has an actually touching ending: after attempting to kill Stimpy or otherwise at least upset him, Ren discovers that the one fan letter addressed to him was from no one else but Stimpy himself--and Stimpy meant every word in his letter. Then, Ren is broken to tears.

THE FUTURE?

As a devote cartoon-watching guy, I find great inspiration from the barrier-breaking art and animation, visually and aurally, of The Ren & Stimpy Show. If you love slapstick comedy and cartoons, then this one’s definitely worth a watch--essential viewing. I surely hope that it comes back again; I can agree on one’s opinion for the show to come back (and, if you want the show to be rebooted as I do, share this IMDb list with Nickelodeon/Spümcø or whatever studio’s in charge). Now, if Viacom/Nick is willing, [adult swim]/Turner/WarnerMedia or some other studio may be better off to purchase the rights to Ren & Stimpy, as Nick or at least Paramount no longer wants anything to do with the series (due to the objectionable material in the “Adult Party Cartoon”), according to this article.

There were rumors of an upcoming Ren & Stimpy short that Nickelodeon Animation was producing. IMDb once removed the title, but now the short “It’s Our House Now!” may be in production by Jessica Borutski, also a former layout artist on the “Adult Party Cartoon”; this may be based on a short John K. sketched to promote Sponge Out of Water.

The closest thing to Ren & Stimpy so far is John K.’s Cans with out Labels [WARNING: some strong language and nudity], a dark, edgy Kickstarter short featuring George Liquor, including storyboards & layouts by Jim Smith and amazingly cartoonish, detailed, over-the-top animation, contributed by @gadworks, @mikepelensky​ and @sandrarivasart​ (a DVD is available for $25 purchase here). Color cards were made by @kalikazoo​ too.

In the future, also, it would be swell to see true high-definition transfers of the actual film negatives for the non-digitally animated episodes of Ren & Stimpy. Most filmed cartoons were often recorded onto videotape masters, which lowered the quality, and I suppose that some of the film negatives still exist in Spumco’s/Nickelodeon’s archives. In point of fact, this clip of The Muddy Mudskipper Intro here looks like it came from an actual film negative (of which I tweeted), with brighter colors and no videotape quality. Though the film looks fairly aged, it looks better than usual prints of the scene.

As we come to the conclusion, I have some additional notes: I began this post in January 2019. 5 months later, Chris Reccardi died, so I refer to him in my posts as the Late and Great Chris Reccardi. He and his family are in my thoughts and prayers. A documentary premiered at Sundance 2020 on January 28th, 2020, Ron Cicero’s Happy Happy Joy Joy: The Ren & Stimpy Story; while the controversial creator is known for some terrible things he did due to mental issues in the past, the least people could do is respect the work of both John K and his groundbreaking team. If it weren’t for them, many great Western animation projects for Cartoon Network, Pixar, Disney TVA, Nickelodeon and others would not be the same.

Before I close, whether or not you think negatively of John K., here’s something you should know, understand, and remember about the value of the creatives of The Ren & Stimpy Show: "Brilliant cartoonists like Lynne Naylor, Jim Smith, Bob Camp, Vincent Waller, Rich Pursel, Elinor Blake, Bill Wray, Chris Reccardi, Gabe Swarr and many many more added a lot of richness and personality to the cartoons. Actors like Billy West, Cheryl Chase, Mike Pataki, Gary Owens, Eric Bauza and others inspired us all to capture the subtle nuances in their readings. Henry Porch, Bill Griggs and Tim Borquez contributed much to the wacky new sound design style Ren and Stimpy was known for. We also had some very talented producers like Chris Danzo, Libby Simon and Kevin Kolde who helped me execute the totally new production system that gave the artists ways to express themselves more personally. These people and more are all heroes to me. Think of them when you remember my cartoons." I will always think of these people and pray for them.

For the inspiration, I give thanks to the entire Spümcø staff and creatives who went on to produce some of the best cartoons ever made.

[myhauntedsalem]

13 True Horror Stories from the Psychiatric Ward that Will Give You the Creeps

Death, illness and tragedy have long been part of the history of insane asylums, and for as long as they have existed, so too have the scary stories associated with them. From haunted hospitals to sadistic doctors and nurses, psychiatric wards have been the inspiration for many of our favorite horror movies and books. Yet, the true stories told by the psych ward workers below far surpass any horrors that we might have seen at the cinema or read in a book.

Without further ado, here are thirteen of some of the creepiest psych ward stories on the internet that have been shared by health care professionals.

1. Holding her own Eyes

My mom told me this story from her time at a neuropsychiatric ward while she was in grad school. She was making her routine room checks and happened upon the most horrific scene I’ve ever heard.

This was during the night shift, and generally, all the patients’ bedroom doors should be closed. So my mom turned a corner and noticed an open door. She saw a staff member’s legs on the floor, halfway out the doorway.

When she looked into the room, she saw the patient, a woman with a severe postpartum psychiatric disorder, who had just gouged both of her own eyes out with her bare hands. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, holding her eyes in her hands.

The first staff member to witness the scene, who was now lying face down on the floor, had a heart attack when he first witnessed the woman while he was making his rounds.

My mom screamed for help and frantically tried to perform CPR on the staff member. All the while, the woman just sat rather calmly, holding her own eyes.

2. The Saw

I work as a psychotherapist in a hospital system. My definition of creepy is probably quite a bit different from other medical professionals.

The one that got to me the most was a patient who came to us after attempting suicide by sawing both his arms off at the forearm with a table saw. His arms were reattached, fairly successfully too, with only limited impairments in mobility. All I could think was how bad it would have to be to live in his head that sawing his arms off seemed better than that.

He has since completed suicide.

3. Jane?

We had a young lady in our custody with quite a few issues. We’ll call her Jane. Jane’s first night at our facility staff doing a bed check found Jane in a puddle of blood. Turns out Jane had been slicing the skin around her shin with her finger nails and was pulling her skin up her leg, essentially de-gloving her calf.

Jane also had a ritual she performed every night before bed. While in her room she would run between walls in her room touching them in a crucifix pattern. After doing this for a few hours she would sit on her bed and go to sleep. This particular night Jane was frantic in her pace, practically running between walls. Our night staff observed the entire interaction and reported Jane screaming late into the night. When the staff went to check on Jane she reported Jane standing in the doorway smiling. The staff asked what was wrong and Jane replied, “what makes you think you are speaking to Jane?”

4. The Vampire

My mom worked in mental institutions in her younger years (and actually worked at a large, well-known asylum before it was shut down.)

There was one woman there that thought she was a vampire of sorts. She was only allowed out one hour a day, and they had to use safety precautions. She had already attacked and killed at least one hospital worker before these were enacted.

When my Mom asked about her, it was revealed that she had killed at least two of her children, wounded another as well as her husband because she had some sort of physical condition called Porphyria, which apparently made her crave blood.

By the time that they discovered there was something physically wrong with her, she already had lost her mind from guilt and grief.

5. The Spitter

I’m not a psychologist but my friend is. She told me about a patient of hers who was HIV positive and a paranoid schizophrenic. He thought that the nurses who worked at the hospital he was in were trying to kill him, so he would frequently bite his tongue, and spit HIV positive blood into their faces/mouths. When they had to come into contact with him, they were required to wear full masks and gloves.

6. The Only One

I once knew a woman who had spent part of her residency at a psychiatric hospital for people with severe mental conditions. Apparently, the grounds had a lovely, enclosed greenhouse. One day, one of their schizophrenic patients was sitting on a bench, smoking a cigarette, as a heron frantically flew around. It had found its way in and, not being able to escape, it was smashing into the large panes of glass. The man just sat there watching.

Finally, my counselor asked him if the bird was bothering him and he kind of sighed and said, “Thank god, I thought I was the only one seeing that.”

7. Family Photographs

My sister is the director of a psychiatric hospital. There was recently a lady there who would cut her arms, legs and torso open and place photographs of her family under her skin.

8. Under the Bed

Once, a fellow female patient told me she found writings under her bed. They were just old, small wooden bed frames with hard mattresses that would make all kinds of noises when you rolled over, but I still wondered what exactly she was doing lying under her bed to find these writings.

When she first told me, I thought it was a joke. But sure enough, one day during group we managed to sneak away, and she showed me. Indeed, there were stories written under her bed. After that, we had everyone check under their own beds, and there was more writing under every single bed.

They were stories of patients who had stayed here before, or ways they were planning on killing themselves, or who the good and bad nurses were. It creeped me out.

9. Time of Death

Well, my mother was a nurse that specialized in geriatrics, and she worked for several hospice hospitals for many years. She often described situations at her work with several of the patients. She would say that each person tends to have a very similar “checklist” that they follow right before death. This checklist often ended in a very similar way.

They would get caught talking to someone that wasn’t there. When asked who they (otherwise lucid people) were talking to, they would describe an individual who was already dead. When asked what they were talking about, they would say that their relative wanted to know if they were ready to move on. A pretty common response would be, “Yeah, he/she said that she will take me tomorrow at 3:00.” Well, it would often happen that they would die at the exact time their relatives quoted.

10. The Test Subject

I had an hour-long conversion with a delusional guy who was confined to a mental health facility, and who was probably smarter than I am. Lots of these folks believe that somebody – often the CIA – is either beaming thoughts into their heads, or has implanted a microchip in their brains for this purpose. This guy was offering a very thoughtful argument as to why such claims should not be so quickly dismissed.

“It’s precisely because such delusions are so common that mental patients make the best test subjects,” he said. There he was, confined and protected, constantly observed, his health and behavior documented, and there is zero chance that anyone would ever take his concerns seriously. How else would you test and improve such technology? Does the government not have a strong motivation and a plausible ability to create such a device?

“You can see I’m not irrational,” the man said. “I’m just straight-up telling you that they are doing this to me. I know just how unbelievable it sounds, and yet, here I am.”

11. The Boy who Loved Knives

As a tech in psych years ago, there was a 7-year-old kid sent to the floor because the mom didn’t know what to do with him. Sadly, common thing to happen, even if the kids don’t have psych issues. Anyway, the mom was shaking and crying, and they had to take the kid into another room. She was genuinely afraid of her own son. She had suspected something was wrong when she kept finding mutilated animals in the backyard, but never heard or saw coyotes or anything around. The neighbors smaller pets started disappearing. The boy had an obsession with knives, hiding them around the house. Denying anything when the mom confronted him. Then when the two started getting into arguments, he would get really violent and hit her, push her down and kick her, threaten to kill her. On multiple occasions she woke up in the middle of the night with him standing beside her bed, staring her in the face. She put extra locks on her bedroom door to feel safe while she slept. The last straw was when she lifted up his mattress and found 50+ knives of all shapes and sizes under there. So she brought him to us.

I remember talking to him, treating him like he was just any other kid that came through. He seemed remarkably normal, until you spoke directly to him. He had this way of looking right through you, or maybe like he didn’t see you at all while you were speaking.

He would respond like a robot, like he was just saying words because that’s what we wanted to hear. And he would always put on this creepy, dead-looking smile. Like all mouth and no eye involvement in the smile. Especially when he would get away with something, like taking another kid’s markers and they couldn’t figure it out. Still gives me chills laying here thinking about him.

I believe I met a 7-year-old psychopath.

12. The New Mom

I was a pharmacy technician at a hospital with a psych ward for some time. We would have to go around with a cart and dispense the patients’ medications, and being a 5’2″ girl, a security guard or male nurse would accompany me, just as a precaution. I never had any real issues other than the occasional death grip onto my arm or manic outbursts, but there was one boy who was entirely different.

His chart said he was nine and he had pale skin, dark hair, and huge bright, green eyes. He always greeted me in the most polite way, asked how I was doing, and always found something different to compliment me on every time. He was extremely well-spoken and mature for his age, so I began looking forward to seeing him, as normal small talk is definitely cherished in that setting. If he saw me outside of his room in the halls, he made sure to say hello and always called me “Miss Jones” or “ma’am.”

One day, a couple of our female nurses saw me pause to chat with him in the hallway, and waved me over to ask if I was out of my mind. Apparently, when he was in kindergarten, he grew an intense attachment to his young female teacher.

This escalated to the point of him calling her “Mom” and leaving notes for her about how he wished he were her son. He had a normal home-life with both parents, and the teacher tried to explain to him that she couldn’t be his mom because that would hurt his real mother’s feelings, and that she already had that job covered.

So, he went home and, killed his own mother in her sleep by cutting her throat, so his teacher could be his mom. The female staff had a general rule of not interacting with him excessively to prevent any kind of attachment from forming.

13. Bugs

Nothing I can say can possibly describe the year I worked in Psychiatric Intensive Care. Creepy isn’t the thing that comes to mind when I think back on it…more heartbreaking and horrifying. But creepiness was a part of it. Especially evening and night shifts, naturally.

There is always something disturbing about watching someone while they hallucinate. You can tell it is 100% real to them, and something about that makes you believe it, on some level. A lot of stories end with, “and of course, I had to look over my shoulder to make sure”. You see the emotions it brings out.

There was a woman that came in and sat down across the table from me for her admission interview. She had bandages all over her arms and scotch tape over her mouth and ears. She looked very uncomfortable and wouldn’t really sit still. When the nurse would ask her a question, she would peel the corner of the tape back and answer, then stick the tape back on really fast.

We eventually found out that she saw and felt bugs crawling all over her, and they were trying to get inside her body. The tape was to keep the bugs out. The bandages were because some bugs got in and she had to dig them out. She couldn’t sit still because she felt the bugs all over her even while we sat and talked. The worst part was, she had some idea that it was her mind playing tricks on her. Can you imagine going through your life, feeling like someone is continuously dumping buckets of cockroaches on your head, feeling like they’re all over you and getting inside of you to the point that you’re digging chunks out of your flesh in a panic, all while knowing intellectually that none of it is real?

[idolizerp]

LOADING INFORMATION ON NITRO’S MAIN VOCAL HA MINSOO...

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: Min CURRENT AGE: 25 DEBUT AGE: 18 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 13 COMPANY: Koala.T SECONDARY SKILL: Acting

IDOL PROFILE

NICKNAME(S): “Minnie Mouse” - A result of Minsoo’s startled reaction to a prank during a variety show in his rookie years. The host’s witty comment had stuck to his image. That was back when he was freshly debuted and grasping for any sort of distinction. Now it’s more of an inside joke between older fans, but he’s still the highlight to every haunted house special, and he still obediently grins and dons a minnie mouse headband at every other fansign.

“Min-ergy” - He’s the mood-maker. The man with the brightest smile. The energizing force that drives conversations forward and fills in the awkward gaps.

“White Knight” - A fairly recent one that took off following a viral video of him “saving” his music show co-host from falling down the stairs. It’s suspected the nickname began as a mocking throwaway comment by an anon, but fans were quick to seize upon it and spin it into genuine praise. INSPIRATION: When asked, his greatest inspiration is trot singer Lee Mi-Ja. He says he grew up with his grandparents listening to her 24/7. He remembers being starstruck by her stage presence and may have had a little crush on her for most of his formative years. SPECIAL TALENTS:

His eye smile

Crying on demand

Making the soda bottle opening + pouring sound with his mouth

NOTABLE FACTS:

Appeared on the TV Show ‘Star King’ as the seven year old child who loved to sing trot  

He used to be a somewhat well-known trainee at Midas, but got convinced to join Koala.T after uncertainty of his chances of debut

He is an only child, but has publicly lamented many times of this fact and has frequently restated his lifelong dream to be an older brother.

It takes him longer than most to memorize choreography, and his movements are notably more stiff than those with natural talent.

IDOL GOALS

SHORT-TERM GOALS:

Minsoo wants to capitalize on his viral moment. He wants to ride the momentum into landing more roles in dramas. He wants to do well in them. Really well. Well enough to make every girl in the nation dream about him as their boyfriend. Minsoo wants Nitro to win a daesang. It might be unthinkable with where they are now, but who knows? Maybe after a stint in a successful drama or two… A couple ace comebacks… Anything can happen, and Minsoo’s nothing but ambitious.

LONG-TERM GOALS:

He predicts he’ll always be typecast for roles as the lovable nice guy due to his ironclad public image. He’s fine with that. If anything, that’s what he’s hoping for. The acting industry is saturated with rising talents, idol or otherwise. Minsoo’s planning on staying around for the long haul, and he’ll do so by carving out a niche that only he can occupy. He wants to be unforgettable. He wants to build a legacy. He wants to touch the ceiling then retire, gracefully, maybe to a house somewhere with the ocean right next door.

IDOL IMAGE

As far as Koala.T is concerned, there’s no such thing as a Nitro member with a bad personality. They’re the well-behaved, hardworking, “Oppa-I-hope-you-only-walk-the-flower-road” boys who fill their fans with purpose from rooting for the underdogs.

Minsoo falls in line seamlessly.

For the longest time, his company markets him as the bubbly, slightly ditzy, mischievous type who incites equal parts mirth and exasperation from his members. His youthful features and boyish grin practically seals the deal. Variety shows documenting the group’s lives would frame him as the funny “younger brother” in need of constant monitoring but also as the emotional center of the group, a sensitive soul who reveals through tears in the customary letter-reading segment that he just wants his brothers-in-arms to be happy and successful.

It works. More importantly, it sells. Fans scramble to bulk-buy albums and help fund their idols’ biggest dreams. Minsoo cries some more and chokes out in award speeches that none of this would have been possible without their precious Gens.  

For the longest time, Minsoo’s content to play the role. Even when as the years add up, the role wraps tighter and tighter around his frame like a shirt that no longer fits, he’s fine with it. But it’s getting old. The same diamond-in-the-rough sob story loses its impact as Nitro crawls towards slow, yes, but respectable success.

So Minsoo refocuses his image.

He adjusts his actions and reactions from cute-younger-brother to charming-boy-next-door: less throwing pies and more baking pies to bring over to the next door neighbors.

An opportunity for that arrives in the form of a role as a long term host for MBC Music Premier. It there where he balances his bright stage-personality with dependable coordination into subject points and a tasteful back-and-forth dialogue with his co-host.

He painstakingly times the process to be as natural as possible, so that his fans comment on his maturity with appreciation rather than confusion.

But the transition is truly cemented when a stroke of luck lets Minsoo be a hero for a minute and have it get caught on camera. The drama-esque moment of him stopping his co-host’s fall circulates the internet and brushes the last specks of dust from his new image.

He’s never been one to waste opportunity. So Minsoo evolves. And he plans to keep on evolving.  

IDOL HISTORY

Ha Minsoo is not a genius.

His parents are working-class citizens. His dad’s a salaryman and his mom’s a piano teacher. He grew up in a quiet seaside town where the doors and windows were always open and the grandparents all knew each other and the ocean lived right next door. He grew up listening to seagulls and trot music, sounds that seemed to permeate the air like the smell of smoke and seaweed.

Ha Minsoo is not a genius.

It’s just that when his grandma boils mackerel stew and the handheld radio crackles out the same music that’s been playing on repeat in this part of the countryside, Minsoo sings along.

And when the neighbor who came over for lunch mentions that she’s got a friend whose son is a PD in Seoul, that he’s looking for cute little kids who can sing or dance in front of a camera, Minsoo doesn’t recognize the sounds out of her mouth for what they were– the axis of his world shifting just so.

Ha Minsoo is not a genius.

But wrapped in a tuxedo, hair gelled back, and oversized microphone in hand, he becomes the seven year old trot prodigy, paraded around stage and showered with praise and applause. Standing there in the bright lights of the recording studio, he feels the ground beneath his feet start to move.

His parents feel it too.

His dad finally earns his work promotion, and the raise means the Ha family can move out of the country and into an apartment in the city. That’s also when the private lessons start. High off Minsoo’s 15 minutes of fame, they pay for a vocal trainer. It’ll all be worth it, they say, when Minsoo earns himself a lucrative career in the music industry.

The hours of practice only get longer once he starts middle school. While the bell at the end of the day signals all the other students to go to cram classes, Minsoo goes straight to the vocal studio to practice until the sun sets. If he ever held promise as a student, he wasn’t given the chance to find out. On the other hand, the relentless training starts to pay off. He wins community talent festivals, small neighborhood contests, and his instructor switches him permanently to modern music. Little by little, his efforts begin to reap results.

Ha Minsoo is not a genius.

He wrestles for every minuscule amount of improvement. He works twice as hard to close the gaps where natural talent might have filled, easily. He grows from the ground up with only two advantages: an early start and an ingrained understanding to never squander an opportunity.

When a Midas scout approaches him after a competition and hands him a business card, it feels like a sign that he’s on the right track. He sweats through auditions. Flubs the dance portion. Miraculously passes. Signs the contract and finds it curious that satisfaction feels less like a buoyancy and more like a weight settling on his shoulders. He’s not done yet. The real work starts here.

His adolescence passes by in a blur of trainee activities and last minute school obligations. He becomes relatively well-known in his company for his young age, pretty face, and the hours he would spend training into the night.

It’s a little creepy, one of the staff members mutters to another. It’s like he never leaves the building.

Look at his pale skin. / Practically translucent. / Like a ghost. / Does he have any friends?  

He decides to learn how to mask his awkwardness with bravado. His irritation with kindness. He hides behind both like spear and shield. He pieces together how to talk with charisma by observing how the older trainees interact and listening into snatches of conversations.

The most popular point of discussion soon becomes rumors about Midas’ upcoming boy group. How many members? When’s the next evaluation? Who are they looking for?

Competition for the spots is violently fierce. There’s no one in the room who doesn’t want to debut. That’s why they’re here, at Midas Media, clawing and fighting to make it to the top. Minsoo gets so close, so close he can almost taste it. But in the end, he’s not enough (not old enough. not confident enough. not good enough at dancing.) Years of meticulous planning, of calculated sacrifice, of careful control crumble at his feet.

The results devastate him. Minsoo falls, hard, hits rock bottom and coughs up gravel.

He allows himself three panic attacks and two packs of cigarettes in total, (burned down to the filter without taking a drag, of course. He doesn’t need the nicotine, just the smoke that calms him).  

Then he tenses his shoulders, picks himself up, and trains with nothing but cold ambition to drive him forward. It’s the most hollow he’s ever been: propelling himself into an uncertain future with no strategy, no plan b, and no clear goal in sight.

Breakthrough comes in the form of Koala.T Music.  

The timing is perfect, with his Midas contract coming to a close and with little chance of a second boy group to be formed anytime soon. Minsoo switches companies. Koala.T is a new an unfamiliar environment, but it’s alright. He’s done this before. It’s easier to adapt this time around, and he knows now how to mold and shape his personality to be the person they need him to be.

Two more years of sweat drenched practice rooms and finally, finally he debuts.

The happily ever after is sweet but short-lived. As a rookie group, Nitro is faced with challenges almost right after the showcase stage. They now have to compete for the public’s affection with dozens of other idols all vying for the spotlight. The cut-throat competition, the ladder climbing, none of that changes. But while others might hate the pressure, Minsoo enjoys it. He savors every step forward because he believes every inch of progress is the culmination of his efforts.

He doesn’t mind the wait.

2015 seems to be the year where everything rolls into motion. Nitro’s slow and steady rise to popularity breaks into their first music show win. Minsoo even lands a supporting role in a rom-com drama by a screenwriter with a solid track history, an rare opportunity for an idol of his standing with only years of company sponsored acting training under his belt.

While it’s by no means easy, Minsoo finds that he takes to acting faster than choreography. His performance is especially aided by the fact that he’s playing a role similar to the one he already plays as Min from Nitro. Just a few extra tweaks, an adjustment here and there, and it’s essentially a different form of the same familiar mask.

The drama earns respectable ratings and the ground beneath Minsoo’s feet moves once more.

It’s just enough momentum to push forward his acting career, albeit slowly in the form of more supporting roles. But this realization comes at the same time Nitro is just beginning to gain traction, and Koala.T pushes to present the group as a united front of underdogs. A front that would break if one member begins to gain attention disproportionately to the rest, especially in a side job.

They tell him to wait, so Minsoo waits. He promotes diligently with his members and spends the rest of his time polishing his clean image and practicing his acting. He keeps his plans for the future close to his chest.

In 2018 a viral moment gives his public personality an electric boost. That combined with Nitro’s continued steady ascent gives Minsoo the agency to start setting his sights on acting again. He’s cast in an idol-driven drama, this time as a lead, and just glancing at the character description fills him with anticipation.

This year he will set his plans in motion, one by one. The real work starts now.

[shirlleycoyle]

Meet The Thai UFO Group Convinced That Aliens Will Save Us From Armageddon

At her home in central Thailand’s Nakhon Sawan city, Ajarn Wassana Chuensumnaun, founder of UFO Kaokala group, educated me about the aliens she claimed to regularly chat with.

A battle for wall space between Buddhist memorabilia and framed drawings of extraterrestrials piloting elaborate spacecraft raged in the front room. A human-sized "classic grey" alien model stood in the lobby, the cardboard creature’s silver boots being sporadically nuzzled by a tortoiseshell cat. About 10 Kaokala members wearing swirly galaxy design shirts overloaded sofas, nodding as Wassana discussed her 21-year relationship with beings from beyond.

There was much detail to digest, such as how the aliens don’t have defined sexes, and eat just energy capsules “because they have small mouths.” I didn't see a hint of a wink or nod among the group members present, whose ages range from their 20s to 60s. The 50 or so people comprising the core Kaokala group, plus thousands following them online, take aliens seriously. This is because rather than destroying us, Independence Day-style, the Kaokala group believes they’re planning to save us from annihilation.

Wassana, 47, dedicates her life to listening to her ET pals and awaiting their plans to save mankind, but recently the conversation was rudely interrupted. Last August the sacred rural location the Kaokala group used to channel the aliens’ messages was raided by local authorities.

The Kaokala members were forced to regroup, but were keen to take me to the scene of the raid to show me that they’ll survive the setback. After all, the fate of our species depends on it. “I want to inform the public that aliens will be here for people on Earth,” said Wassana, under the black-eyed gaze of a painting of two grey aliens.

*

Wassana and her sister Somjit Raepeth, 60, claimed to have been communicating with aliens from Pluto and a planet named Lokukatapakadikong since 1998. According to them, aliens from Lokukatapakadikong are your standard humanoid large-headed greys: super-intelligent The X Files sorts. Those from Pluto aren’t in solid form: they’re more like gas.

Twenty-one years ago, out of the blue the sisters’ father claimed to have received alien contact whilst meditating. Initially sceptical, they tried meditating alongside him. “My father received the wave and it passed to me—it was like a phone line being switched,” Wassana said. “I felt a kind of ‘motivational energy’ pushing me.”

Ukrin Thaonaknathiphithak by a lake near Khao Kala mountain. The Kaokala group claims there is a portal to space under the water here. Image: Jamie Fullerton

Once this ET hotline was established, conversation focused on a forthcoming World War III and nuclear apocalypse. The sisters heard how ETs wanted to speak to humans so they could one day provide them with technology to survive this, before forging a "new generation" of humans. This inspired the duo to build a community of believers to help get the message out.

Despite the unlikeliness of their yarn, their straight-faced sincerity proved convincing. After gaining traction by word of mouth in Nakhon Sawan, Kaokala expanded its online presence and held public meet-ups, earning nationwide attention through the media.

A community crystallised. Manop Ampan, 65, is a former local government communications officer who now helps run the group’s social media. Krittaya Ketkaewsuwan, a 30- year-old graphic designer from Bangkok, joined because she loved sci-fi and really wants to see a UFO. She said she believed in “about 50 percent” of the group’s claims.

Ploy Buranasiri, 29, another designer, said that spirituality was her gateway to Kaokala. According to Wassana the aliens chose Thailand as their contact point because the country had many Buddhists, who could use meditation to communicate with them. As well as talking to aliens through such meditation, Ploy believes she can “see people’s karma,” and has been active with Kaokala for nine years. “At first my mom thought it was crazy,” she said. “But I explained that we don’t do anything bad. We’re just trying to help people.”

Ann Thongcharoen, a core UFO Kaokala member, in Nakhon Sawan. Image: Jamie Fullerton

Others have rocketed deeper into the wormhole. Ann Thongcharoen, 28, who works at her family’s restaurant in Bangkok, casually pointed out alien sighting locations as if they were historical buildings on a tour. “Here’s where we saw aliens from Pluto—they use synthetic suits to walk on Earth,” she said as we trudged up Khao Kala mountain: a precipice covered in lush forest located a half-hour drive from Wassana’s house.

UFO Kaokala—Kaokala Coordination for Disasters Warning Group, to give the full title—took its name from Khao Kala mountain after aliens apparently told Wassana that there was a portal to another dimension there. For the past six years members have been meeting by the Buddhist statues on the peak to camp, meditate and spot UFOs.

Their UFO evidence didn’t extend far beyond blurry photos of what looked like saucepan lids flung into the sky above the mountain’s golden Buddha statue. As we climbed higher, Ann remained insistent. “Here’s where someone saw an alien robot,” she said, as the forest got denser and mosquitos began dive-bombing. She told me to take photos of the sky, so we could zoom in and check for spaceships later.

*

Khao Kala mountain, with its jagged rock formations and fluttering butterflies, was calming and pretty on my visit, but was recently the scene of high drama. In mid-August police and Forestry Department officials raided the peak. Officers said the Kaokala group was impinging on protected forest area by building bathroom and storage buildings by the statues, and illegally camping there. “If a UFO descends and parks here, that’s even better,” one officer told local media. “We’ll capture them all.”

Charoen Raepetch, a Kaokala member identified by cops as the man behind the structures on the mountain, was told to expect charges soon, and the group is braced for a fine of up to 150,000 baht ($4,900). Wassana said that the core members will probably try and club together to pay the fine, if it comes to that. They haven’t slept on the mountain since the raid, and much of their equipment has been shifted out by authorities.

Walking up to the peak of Khao Kala mountain. Image: Jamie Fullerton

Ukrin Thaonaknathiphithak on the Khao Kala mountain meditation site. Image: Jamie Fullerton

It wasn’t the first time Kaokala had been pressured. Some Thais have used the group’s social media channels to accuse them of insulting Buddhism by linking it with wacky claims about aliens. Others have cast suspicion on Charoen taking donations to fund structures on the peak. Ann points out that it is free to be a Kaokala member. There was little evidence of decadence among the group leaders I met.

“Some people think Buddhism doesn’t have anything to do with other civilizations,” Ann said. “But Buddhism is about the universe, right? Some think it’s only about praying and meditation, but it’s more about outer space. I see comments, but I try to avoid them. I don’t fight people.”

The fallout from the raid didn’t stop the group traipsing back up the mountain the weekend after the officers visited. At the peak, Manop waved his hands over images of spaceships etched into a stone slab they’d placed next to the imposing golden Buddha. Small black pyramid models were scattered on the ground and balanced among tree branches. Wassana cleaned up detritus around the raid area; Ann and Ploy relaxed in the shadows of more Buddhist statues, embedded among tranquil forest.

The vibe was more "weekend bus tour" than "doom cult," and local businesses unaffiliated to the group were taking advantage of the stream of alien obsessives. After visiting the mountain we hit a Nakhon Sawan market to load up on baggy t-shirts plastered with garish alien designs, seemingly teleported from a 1990s rave.

Some Kaokala touches remained on Kha Kala mountain, despite authorities forcing the removal of much equipment. Image: Jamie Fullerton

The convoy continued to a dessert parlour, where graffiti-covered walls prompted more selfies. As wafers penetrated plump ice cream balls, the sisters said that with Kaokala group spirit still strong, they weren’t worried by the raid. Communicating with ETs was not, they explained, reliant on one location—portal or no portal. “We can stay in our homes and receive contact,” Ann said. “You never know where you’ll be at the time of World War III.”

Their plan was to continue meditating until the aliens tell us how to tool up and survive Armageddon. “They’ll visit us over different generations,” Wassana said. “Before the nuclear disaster, during the disaster, after the disaster and for a restoration period. When it will begin, we don’t know.”

Until then the Kaokala weekend fun trips will continue. The café staff plonked six heavily laden ice cream bowls on our table, causing scrambles for spoons and smartphones.

Follow Jamie Fullerton on Twitter and his website .

Meet The Thai UFO Group Convinced That Aliens Will Save Us From Armageddon syndicated from https://triviaqaweb.wordpress.com/feed/

[high-elf-esteem-blog]

Snow at Tengan-san

A thick blanket of snow covered the roofs of Tengan-jou. Now the castle looked like it had been carved in glittering white. Ever since she was a girl, Shinou Fuyuko had slept easier, when the flakes drifted down.

Not that she ever slept deeply. It was simply in her nature to be wary, even here, in her home,by her husband's side.

Snow makes travel slower. Her father had hated it, hated trekking through blocked roads or holing up in inns when they'd been snowed in. He was a wanderer, and whenever he had been in one place for too long, he'd taken his daughter by the hand and chased the next horizon. Fuyuko had relished those times when snows blocked the roads and weeks would pass seeing the same faces and sleeping under the same roof. She’d loved being able to pause in their travels and get comfortable in one place, even if it never lasted.

Now, she had other reasons to prefer the inclement weather. Tengan-jou was not the strongest fortress in the Shirowashi daimyou’s domain, but it was the highest. Its mountain perch forced attackers to scale a frozen pass to attack them. And any army trying to enter Gwaii province would need to control the mountain.

Fuyuko felt a glow of pride. Shinichi's men hated the cold as much as the next warrior, but it kept them sharp and kept anyone from approaching the castle swiftly. When it snowed, she could sleep knowing there'd be no unexpected dangers.

Shinichi was deep in a dream. He clung tightly to Fuyuko’s tail for warmth, even though she hated that. She liked being able to leave his side and return, as her nocturnal restlessness demanded, but he was a clingy sleeper and she couldn't bear to wake him. She envied his peaceful presence, his calm demeanor, the way he laughed as he addressed his men and drooled into her fur as he slept. She took a moment to enjoy gazing at his body. Half-uncovered by his kimono, he was tall, lean framed and only lightly scarred, for he was skilled and his armor was strong. His hair and the fur of his foxtail both were a refined silver, giving him an ethereal beauty at odds with his masculine shape. Tension relaxed out of his toned muscles as he snuggled in to cling to her own white-furred tail.

It bothered her that she couldn't spring up from the futon, weapon ready, when he slept like that. But soldiers and samurai and servants and blacksmiths and an onmyouji and a shinobi all slept or worked in the passages between their bedchamber and the outer walls. If someone were to enter Tengan-jou with ill intent against her Shinichi... but it was foolish of her to waste her sleep worrying. Better to curl up against him on a cold, cold night, better to relax.

The sound of sandaled feet pattering down the hall! There was no reason for anyone to be running. Fuyuko pulled free from Shinichi's grasp and fumbled in the gloom for a blade. Her tail tingled unpleasantly as the blood rushed in.

"Eggs..." her husband mumbled. She didn't need to wake him up yet, she decided.

Shinichi's own nodachi met her palm first. It was recognizable in the pitch black by the magic that made it ice-cold to the touch. That great blade was too long a weapon for her taste.  She found a gwalaa dirk, too slowly, and crept out into the hall. It had taken her so long to find a weapon that she was now afraid she’d missed her opportunity. A foe was often vulnerable during an ambush, the time when they expected counterattack the least.

So when she leapt out, half-undressed, at her own trusted guard, he did not expect her. Shame flushed his pale skin.

"Fuyuko-dono. My partner needed to visit the privy, and so..." His eyes drifted pointedly away from her. That must have been the footsteps. Wild-eyed, exposed, and now shivering from the cold, Fuyuko slid the door shut. Perhaps a night lamp would help? The guards used flickering magical lights, dim and red to preserve their night vision. It meant their silhouettes couldn’t been seen on the screen doors. If she asked them to use brighter lights, perhaps it would help her check on them. She always felt better with a solution in mind.

“The clan mother has been like this of late. I hear her pacing all night,” the guard whispered. Fuyuko’s ears pricked up sharp. She supposed the guards thought they were being quiet, but Fuyuko could hear every breath.

“I think she’s getting worse,” the guard who had returned from his business replied. Fuyuko considered punishing him, but no, that was the lack of sleep talking. He was honorable and he kept his watch well. Shinichi would tell her not to punish good men, lest she be left with only lazy, weak men and be compelled to punish them more.

Shinichi would be reasonable.

He met with the men every morning. It was important, he told her. He rarely had time to speak to everyone inside the fortress, but he made his rounds, and before the week was out he would greet every soul on his mountain at least once. The human ashigaru loved him. The kitsune samurai, the ashigaru, the various laborers and craftsmen who made up his clan’s forces, they all worshiped him. He was a symbol, the first vulpine lord in generations. Other kitsune who’d risen to the rank of retainer had been accused of duplicity, cowardice, intrigue, even dark sorcery. Fuyuko, whose father was a gambler and a vagrant, could understand the distrust some might have for her people. They seemed antithetical to the structured order that kept society in line.

Fortune often had more to do with one’s position than worth did. And her people so rarely claimed the worthiness that those who graced society’s heights should have. Shinichi though, he had it. He had something in him that a mere warrior such as herself lacked. That was why she fought for him, why she managed his home and tried, unsuccessfully, to bear his children. Why she insisted on cooking for him…

***

Shinichi’s face twisted in disgust and soon smoothed as he dissembled. “This is… different.” He smiled. She knew the eggs were runny and the rice was cold. She was so tired, that she’d slept in and been forced to rush his breakfast. She knew he hated runny eggs and hadn’t the heart to tell her. But watching him smile warmed her heart in a way little else did. The morning was a daze, but she rallied by afternoon. By then, Shinichi had finished inspiring his people, washed himself, and entered the dojo where he trained. Somehow, she’d warmed up, bowed to him, and began simple exercises before her mind had even caught up.

“Is something wrong, my love?” He seemed concerned, but distracted. He struck in a repetitive pattern with the extra-long shinai he used for his training, and she parried just as they had a thousand times. Somehow, he could tell Fuyuko’s mind was far away.

“I have been restless of late, Shinichi-sama.” She knew he could see through her, more easily even than she him. He shook his head.

“No. It displeases me to see you so worried. Something is wrong, something I cannot see.”

He rapped her on the head and she flinched back, her head stinging. She hadn’t missed a block during a drill in ages.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He tried to take her hand, but she stepped away from him and began arming herself. “Or not?”

“I must keep you sharp, my love. It is my duty,” Fuyuko said. Her voice sounded harsher than she’d meant it. She favored him with a slight apologetic glance before lowering her helm. Soon he circled her, looking for an opening. She held a replica version of the long yari spear, not the same as her favored naginata, but similar in method. He had shifted down to a more normal length katana, rather than the longer weapon he favored. The tip of the weapon hit his gorget with enough force to snap his head back.

The next ten minutes were grueling. She did her best to bruise him through the armor, a change from the lethargic way the rest of her day had been. She made him twist and parry to avoid shots to the face, force him to deflect short hacking cuts at his neck and at his legs in succession, bludgeoned him with the spear’s haft like it was a bo staff.

But sparring, and battle, warmed her heart in a way few things did.

She stepped back and snarled viciously, cutting down in a helm-splitting strike. He angled his shinai to shed her force, stepped inside her reach, and dropped the “sword.

He grabbed at her legs and dragged her to the ground in a crash. She was still snarling as they went down, but Shinichi was a better grappler and he had the advantage of size back as soon as the yari dropped to the ground. Sitting on her hips, he carefully removed her menpo to reveal her face. Her fangs were out, and her finely-boned face had began to lengthen into a snout.

“Fuyu. Calm down,” he whispered. She let the battle fury leave her and she shuddered.

“Perhaps what I need is a good fight?” she suggested. There was some shame in her ton. She knew he could hear it.

“Chigaimasu. Ten years of that earned us what we have here, on this mountain. We can rest now,” he replied. He moved in for the kiss, but she pulled away.

“It feels wrong. I cannot explain why, Shinichi-sama.” She bucked her hips, moving him out of his mount position atop her. Before he could act, either martially or romantically, she’d already shoved him off and moved to the shomen side of the dojo. She placed the spear on its rack, replaced her menpo, and retrieved a shinai matched to his.

“Tire me out. It may help.”

“I can think of another way to-” he began, but she charged, stomping the ground and lunging to strike his helmet with a crack.

“Again!”

She lunged a second time and his parry echoed through the room.

“Fierce!” he cried. He often called her thus, but today, his tone scolded.

“Is that not why you married me?” Fuyuko asked, attacking in a frenzy. She slashed at his ribs, and he jumped clear. She turned her backswing into a thrust and his deflect barely saved him from taking the bamboo weapon to the groin. He swung overhead, simply to force her onto the defensive and she caught his blade in a bind.

“I… am not in the mood for this right now,” Shinichi admitted.

“Nonetheless, you must train.” She pushed his guard up, opening him to a cut at his belly. He countered by placing a foot into her hip and shoving her back before she could land it.

“You always throw your weight around,” she scoffed.

“You are the better fighter. You know that,” he said, completely unperturbed. He lashed out, sweeping at her legs to make her dance back further.

“I will not lose my concentration if you flatter me,” she hissed.

His shinai struck her head. “You’d need concentration to lose.”

They circled again, in the center of the room, now testing one another. Shinichi had slightly longer arms, Fuyuko a slightly deeper lunge.

A bell rung.

“Alas, you do not have time to strike me again, my love,” Shinichi said.

“How much do you enjoy paperwork, Shinichi-sama?”

He laughed, and she finally let him embrace her. His armor was hard but his skin smelt good.

“My lady love, I know how much you enjoy writing letters to our lord and gardening,” he began.

“I am terrible at gardening. I hate that I must do it.”

“Well, you play your shamisen well,” he continued.

“I do not hate that,” she admitted. “Why must we work so hard for their respect? We serve efficiently and well.”

“It is not enough to do well, my love. We must be better samurai than those who have held the title for generations. We do our work, and our arts, and we hold this pass, and one day, you and I, we are the beginnings of a great clan.”

His eyes shone with vision. In front of the castle the totem pole that represented their clan stood tall. He had helped his grandfather carve it while he was still a boy, with a fox as its supporting base and the cloaked man figure that represented the clan. He went weekly to check it himself for weather damage.

“You will be a father to our people,” she said, finally.

“If we finish our tasks quickly perhaps we can try and make you a mother?” he whispered.

She was shedding her armor in an instant. The study was some distance away and their masters, the Shirowashi clan needed to be told of affairs at Tengan-jou.

Now, at least, she was fully awake.

The situation was the same as it had been the past hundred days. The snows were thickening so much nothing was likely to happen before spring, and the daimyou must’ve known that. She finished the letter with a poem, something about the snows piling up on her men’s helmets. Humor, she presumed, might distract from her lack of talent as a poet. Once the letter was sealed, she handed it off the the onmyouji, whose magic would take the letter out of Tengan-san’s pass faster than any traveler.

“Shinou-dono, I think we should send the foxes… your people on the outside watches. It’s getting colder and they already have fur coats they can just put on.” Who was this man? She knew his face, but his name escaped her. Shinichi would know, he knew the names of the kitchen cats. He would probably pretend this man’s request had merit, as well.

“Do we not have cloaks enough in our storerooms?” she asked.

“Ah, hai, my lady.” She remembered his rank, at least. A minor officer in the ashigaru’s corps, with the seniority to be promoted but none of the raw battle talent needed to ever become anything greater. She remembered his fighting, stiff, with his movements just a bit too exaggerated. It was likely, she thought, that one day a samurai or some very talented footsoldier would read his parade-ground drill tactics and kill him too easily.

“Tell your men to rotate watches more swiftly if the cold is beginning to bother them. All your men, humans and kitsune alike.” Shinichi would have been too kind, but the moment the humans started to take any privilege the kitsune did not have or vice versa, discipline would shatter. Someone would have to be cold. “Do not make me talk to Captain Kissaki about this.”

She walked off, letting her resolve cut off any further objections. The officer gave a disappointed grunt, but from what Fuyuko could tell, she’d succeeded. She was, perhaps, a few moments late, but it was time to claim her reward.

The guards from outside the bedchamber were missing. “Shinichi-” she began, her hand going to her obi to find…

Shinichi, displayed out on the bed, a flower between his teeth. Where he’d gotten one from, in the middle of a snowstorm… She stepped gingerly over the oil lamps he’d covered the floor with, to give them room a surreal festival fire appearance.

“Shinichi-sama, the guards are missing.”

He laughed. “I sent them away, so that we could make love in peace.”

“These lamps will burn us alive.”

He conceded, moving to snuff out all the lights within reach. “It seemed like a better idea in my mind.

“Very romantic. Please do not get us killed, my love,” she said, holding her tail high so it wouldn’t trail in an errant flame. “We really should not send the guards away.

“Fuyuko-”

“When it was tents in the field on campaign, you were not bothered by who could hear us.”

He looked at her, askance. “We had little choice, back then. Besides, you were so eager, that I…” He stopped as she gave him her most predatory look.

“Shame there is no battlefield here, then. We will have to make do.” She pulled at the decorated pins that held her hair in place and in a smooth wriggling motion made while hair the only thing covering her.

A guard returned to his post, somewhere in the middle of the tryst. He was forced to suffer through it in stoic samurai silence.

Fuyuko did not sleep, afterward. She found the energy to tire Shinichi out, but when finally he kissed her goodnight and passed out, she felt trapped. Her body was exhausted, she knew. And her eyes burned with the sensation of ruining one’s own sleep cycles. But some manic force in her chest kept her from relaxing.

She eyed the daishou and the armor stand. Perhaps she would sleep better if they were closer to hand…?

It was nearly dawn when Fuyuko fell unconscious, wearing her kote gauntlets. It wasn't purely rational, she knew. But it was a solution of sorts.

“Fuyuko-dono!” a voice screamed into her ear. She grabbed blindly at the sound, hitting the speaker with her armored hand before her eyes could even focus. It was the human ashigaru from yesterday.

“The gate has fallen. We need orders.”

“Report?!” Fuyuko looked around her, completely lost. It was later in the morning than she’d woken up the day before. Shinichi was gone, leaving only a cold spot in the futon. She was mostly naked in front of this soldier, and a sound could be heard from far away…

“The kitsune at the gate fled. The enemy broke the gate before they could regroup.”

Fuyuko patted down the space where Shinichi had slept.

“Where is my husband?”

An echoing howl, terminating in a bark, and close. That was the sound. It set Fuyuko’s hair standing on end and she threw a kimono on as fast as trembling hands could manage.

“He went to the gate after the cowards there fled.”

“Dogs. They brought dogs. I should have anticipated this tactic. That must be how they traveled so quickly over the snow.” She spoke too fast, her voice shaking.

“My lady, I think-”

A thought crossed her mind as she took the naginata off its rack. “Why were there no humans at the gate?”

“We’d shifted the watches just as you ordered, Fuyuko-dono.”

How she hated this man. How could he be here, complaining, when her men were dying? And yet, she needed him.

“Your orders are to stand right behind me. Draw your sword. Do not allow me to retreat.”

“Heh?” He was baffled.

“Your orders are to stand right beh-”

“Ryoukai.” he confirmed, his blade whispering out to sit between her shoulder blades. She ran through the keep for the gate, the sounds of baying hounds echoing from what seemed like every direction. She felt fur threatening to sprout on her body, as the fear of dogs threatened to overcome battlefield discipline. She willed her body to stay untransformed and her feet to keep moving toward the beasts.

It was a long run, from her chamber in the keep to the first courtyard, and all the while the horrible sounds of barking shook her resolve to its core. She stepped out into the snow, where diligent shoveling had created a narrow passageway. She was immediately hit by the shock of the cold, the lack of proper clothing slowing her in an instant. To her dismay (but not her surprise) a few of the enemy were already inside. They were wearing thick cloaks to protect themselves from the cold and were, somehow, standing on the snowdrifts that she and her ashigaru were wading through. A man wearing a wrapped headdress lunged at her. It was a relief. She fell into the combat mindset, pushing aside the sounds of barking and the fear for her husband. She checked the man, striking him in the throat with the haft of the weapon. She fell back, unable to step properly with her feet rooted in the snow, but luckily for her, he fell over as well. She leaped up and pounced on him, grabbing his wakizashi with both hands. He fought, giving her an elbow strike that threatened to knock her out immediately, but she bit his wrist savagely, tearing through his thick garment and severing something he needed to keep his grip. Thank the gods he wore no mail. She slammed the weapon into his throat, spraying his lifeblood onto white snow.  

On the far side of the courtyard, two invaders beat one of her human ashigaru into submission with their fists. They too wore headdresses… Fuyuko hesitated, unwilling to leave her naginata behind, but struggling to drag it through the snow. It made a fair walking stick to help her stand, and she was able to push herself to her feet and sprint towards the enemy, screaming an inhuman wail.

One of them turned, looking more surprised than prepared. Fuyuko impaled her first, but the second was then free to knock the wind from her with a vicious kick. There was no hesitation. Her lack of dou armor meant even this unarmed brawler could batter her. With her hair still loose from the night before, she was unable to even put on a helmet, and she was forced to duck a swinging arm to her temple as she freed her weapon from the first woman’s chest. The ashigaru she had brought with her thrust with Fuyuko’s own naginata and with that, the courtyard was clear. She remembered his name now. A southerner, Xuefeng.

Some part of the keep was on fire. How had she failed to notice?

She glanced down at the human the two attackers had felled, either unconscious or dead, her face colored by bruises. To Fuyuko’s horror, the human lay atop the corpse of Captain Kissaki, who…

The graying old fox had a sword still lodged in his chest. He looked anything but peaceful, his vulpine form twisted in death. It looked as if he’d trapped the weapon inside himself, simply to deny his killer the blade. Kissaki had once given her orders, before she was Clan Mother Shinou, when she, too, was a simple ashigaru come to serve the new kitsune retainer to the Daimyou Shirowashi.

He had introduced her to the soldier's life, kept her alive when recklessness and a need to prove herself should have turned her into an goza cutting target. Instead, he'd channeled that eagerness and turned her pile of claimed heads into an application for the Lord Shinou’s bodyguard.

He'd been the one to personally introduce her to Shinichi. Fuyuko’s train of thought was shattered by her soldier escort prodding her with his sword.

The woman lying atop his corpse was alive. Fuyuko took a cloak from one of the dead invaders and pointed to Xuefeng. “Revive this woman. I will go on ahead.” He nodded in silence. These people were dying. She had to solve the problem.

There were so few corpses of the enemy. She wanted to stop and figure out just who these men were, but the barking had yet to stop. She couldn't focus, not with dogs loose in her home.

And the math didn’t add up. Tengan-jou was small, as was its garrison. But how could so many be slain so fast? And with so few of the enemy felled?

They held the gatehouse against her men. There was less snow here, and the Tengan-jou defenders were able to set up a line trapping the enemy inside. They’d used the yari spears to hold back the enemy, but even as she watched, several of the invaders leaped over the line of combat or dropped over the walls to attack the spearmen from behind. Some of the monks used swords, curved kama, or the heavy tetsubo clubs to kill her people, but many more simply fought with iron gauntlets or bare hands wrapped in prayer beads. They were vicious, hooking her men with kama and chains to drag them out of line, using complicated martial arts to disarm their weapons or simply dodging inside their reach and battering them with lightning-fast blows. There were next to no enemy casualties, just more and more of the people her husband loved so, being slaughtered.

She understood now. Superhuman agility and iron discipline meant the enemy were yamabushi, the warrior monks of some temple. Or rather, she understood who, but not why. She charged into the fray, chopping down over her ally’s head to split an enemy’s helmet. The monk died, on the spot, but her blade was chipped. She swore, for the first time in months. Shinichi was trying to break her of that habit…

“Shinichi!” She screamed his name, but there was no reply. The gatehouse was, as far as she could tell, a chaotic melee. Flames were spreading, somehow, along the inner walls. She was so certain that with the heavy snow this couldn’t happen. They must have used sorcery or some chemical trick. Where was Xuefeng? She’d told him to hang back. She looked to the nearest samurai, a portly kitsune rallying the line of ashigaru around him. He was the first living fox he’d seen since she’d… since she’d fallen asleep next to Shinichi.

“The yamabushi…?”

The samurai, Akagi, thrust aggressively at a monk who dodged fluidly, weaving in between blows as if they were plunging through water.

“They've already won. Those damned dogs tore most of us to ribbons. It's been an honor serving the Shinou clan, my lady.” His opponent lashed out with a hammerfist that cracked his speartip right off. The samurai drew his katana with a feral snarl, the menpo popping off his face to reveal his pointed snout.

“I'll make a hole for you.” Akagi gave a great shout, a kiai that ended in a howl. He went down in a flurry of blows, slashing wildly as he was struck over and over again. The guardhouse was now truly on fire, but if she was swift and sure, she could enter it.

Fuyuko gathered her will. Shinichi was in that guardhouse. She was his wife because she could protect him. It was why she was samurai. Why she was here. She rushed, throwing her shoulder into the monk killing Akagi and knocking him over. Fuyuko dug a half-numb shoeless foot into the monk’s side and jumped, clearing him and knocking into the next monk with all her weight.

He guided that weight, completely in control, and hurled her to the ground. She rolled. Two monks detached from the fight against Tengan-jou’s garrison to face her, and those two circled to surround her. Of course, they were no fools. One lunged, round kick swinging, and she quick-stepped to avoid being forced back into his partner’s blade.

She nearly tripped. Her feet were too cold from going barefoot in snow to stay sure. The round knobbly club, the tetsubo under her feet had once been wielded by a yamabushi. Now its owner lie there on the ground,dead. Next to him, his nodachi broken in half by that same tetsubo, was the body of Shinou Shinichi. His arm and half his ribs were completely smashed in, the armor caved in. Half of his sword was in the dead monk. His face was also half-gone from some almighty blow to the side of the head. A hound tore from his exposed side, and turned hungrily to snarl at her. The totem pole had been cracked, the fox’s nose missing. The gates were hanging by broken hinges.

Fuyuko took all this in, in an instant. Her resolve became focused, even as the dogs rushed back at her baying and seeking her kitsune blood. She cut, deep into the shoulder of the first monk, dragging the damaged naginata blade down to his hip. Blood sprayed over Shinichi’s body from the slain monk. The snow was sprinkled with red, everywhere now. She whirled to engage the second yamabushi and the monk’s knee rebroke her nose. Then dark.

 ***

 She came to, much later. Her nose had been reset. It was likely to heal as crooked as it had been before. There were dog bites and a sword cut she hadn’t even noticed, bandaged up. Her head felt like a temple bell. Her blades were set neatly on a stand across the room, her daishou, her naginata, and Shinichi’s broken nodachi. Its magic left frost on the entire weapons rack, stronger than the steel that had held it.

She looked to the bed next to her, hoping…

The human woman from the courtyard. She’d survived. It wasn’t him.

She admitted she was fooling herself.

Over the next few weeks of recovery she was told the truth by the survivors. The yamabushi had brought onmyouji to counter the castle’s magical wards. They’d climbed the walls and opened the gate. The dogs had helped them sled over the snows and appear overnight, and they’d also terrified the kitsune at the garrison so the high-leaping monks could open the walls.

She’d learned another thing concerning the survivors. They were all human. Save a sergeant, a pair of young servants, and herself, the yamabushi had killed every kitsune in Tengan-jou. One of the injured monks had been asked, and he’d simply said, “the foxes should not rule over men,” before taking his own life.

Fuyuko herself was not permitted to follow suit. Though Tengan-jou had fallen and its lord was slain, the Shirowashi daimyou had other plans for the last of the Shinou clan. Fuyuko was to rest, recover, and refrain from committing seppuku or throwing her life away against the yamabushi. Not until their motives were completely understood and the time was right.

“My lady mother,” she had told the daimyou. “Permit me return to my lord husband’s arms.”

She hadn't felt much yet. He was missing. It was a problem. Seppuku was how you solved it. Everything made sense.

The Shirowashi daimyou was an iron-grey-haired woman whose political cunning surpassed that of her adult son. The feared clan mother of Gwaii Province. It was no wonder the formidable Shirowashi Tomoe still ruled despite the efforts of her Kuroda clan enemies.

“I do grieve for Shinichi-kun. He was promising. A good… man,” she began. “However, I cannot sweep up the board before I run out of pieces. I need you, Fuyuko-san. Your duty is not yet to die.”

Fuyuko was too weak to argue. “Hai, Tomoe-sama. But…”

She arched an eyebrow. “Was I not clear?”

“I am diminished, without him.”

The daimyou gave what was almost a smile, but more than just Shirowashi Tomoe’s hair was iron. “Life goes on when your man is killed, Fuyuko.”

She left the kitsune alone then, with the injured, the dying, and her dead.

[thestarwarspost]

Rian's Challenge. Watch Six Classic Films On The Journey To Star Wars: The Last Jedi Part II "Letters Never Sent".

New Post has been published on https://www.starwarspost.com/rians-challenge-watch-six-classic-films-journey-star-wars-last-jedi-part-ii-letters-never-sent/

Rian's Challenge. Watch Six Classic Films On The Journey To Star Wars: The Last Jedi Part II "Letters Never Sent".

During the future filmmaker’s panel at last’s year Star Wars Celebration London convention, Lucasfilm Executive Pablo Hidalgo asked the Director of Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Rian Johnson what films were his inspiration for the next chapter of our saga. That panel was one of the golden moments of the festivities during that week that educated and inspired attendees to think beyond Star Wars and dive into the art of storytelling. Rian responded with six films that he felt were so important for his vision of Star Wars: The Last Jedi that he encouraged the production staff to watch them as well before cameras started rolling. The films, Twelve O’Clock High (1949), 2. The Bridge on the River Kwai (1957), Three Outlaw Samurai (1964), 4. Letter Never Sent (1960), Gunga Din (1939), Sahara (1943) was the challenge laid down by Rian Johnson, and one that we were eager to accept.

The goal of this challenge is to understand storytelling better so that I could be a better viewer and critic. Not only in its business and mechanics but in its different styles of prose and techniques used to elicit feelings from the audience. My aim is to learn and drown myself in the lessons of storytelling to be a better viewer and listener. I want to dive into the deep end of the pool and learn from the masters who craft the stories we love. If Rian Johnson believed these films are important enough for the production crew, then they are equally important for this blogger and his respectable readership.

So last year we embarked on Rian’s Challenge with our first review of “Twelve O’Clock High” (1949), a fantastic film that you can read here. We took a bit of a hiatus for Rian’s Challenge to focus on Rogue One: A Star Wars Story. It’s one of those decisions that had me on edge as I wanted to dive into these films and encourage my readers to do so as well. But with Felicity Jones and company looming large on the horizon it would have to wait till after Rogue One was out the door and the ramp up for Star Wars: The Last Jedi began. With only a week away from Star Wars Celebration Orlando, there is no perfect time to kick this challenge into high gear, and it’s my sincerest hope that you all join me in this endeavor.

Letter Never Sent (1960) Directed by MIKHAIL KALATOZOV

Finding this classic on any streaming medium wasn’t easy of course so it was off to Amazon to purchase the Blu-Ray copy and I’m glad I did. The reproduction was excellent and the sound delightful for a film delivered in a 4:3 format. If you are looking for it on Amazon, Netflix or Hulu, you will be out of luck.

Fire, misery, hopelessness and a dash of good ole’ fashion Russian propaganda make Letter Never Sent one of my favorite films. It’s simple, straightforward, flamed plastered hell in black and white. The music was in short, perfect. It’s dramatic, to the point and just plain fits. The cinematography and its complexity to create its claustrophobic feel is nothing short of genius. The plot is simple as it is powerful, like a locomotive barreling down a single track in the middle of nowhere. I sincerely hope Letter Never Sent lends lots of its elements to Star Wars: The Last Jedi and its story.

The picture starts with our four main characters, Sabinin, Tatiana, Andrey and Sergey, geologists searching the thick forests of Bolshaya Zemlya, Siberia in a hunt for diamonds. Their charge is simple enough, find veins of diamond deposits so that The Union Of Socialist Republics (U.S.S.R.) can begin a new Industrialist Age. The pursuit of these diamonds for our cast is not all for personal benefit and a life of riches. Instead, it’s for the State and its promise of leading the Space Race and a better tomorrow for the Soviet people. This film is dripping with that classic wrap yourself in the sickle and hammer propaganda films of the 1950’s and 60’s. But in this movie, there is a real honest desire to overcome the odds, and achieve success through bog muck thick despair.

Our five geologists are lead by Sabinin as they enter into the Siberian plateau which geologically mimics the famed African plateau that is steep in diamond deposits. Sabinin, who is now on his fourth expedition to find this elusive natural mineral resource is hopeful and inspired at the start of this film. The crew begins their work in the beautiful Boreal forests of Siberia during summer. Here the atmosphere is sunny with flowers blooming as they start their work digging and analyzing mineral samples. It’s during this time that a small separate thread in this story develops between the war veteran in the group, Sergey Stepanovich, becomes jealous of the romantic relationship between Tatiana Nikolayevna, the only woman in the group and her lover Andrey. Sergey, played by Actor Evgeniy Urbanskiy has this fantastic and authentic 1000-yard stare that inflict some veterans of war. Living here in the Nations Capital, I have seen my fair share of this loss of light in the eyes of friends and colleagues that have come back from conflicts abroad. In this film, Urbanskiy’s stare is mesmerizing and believable. It’s that same look that he gives Tatiana when he dreams of real love that he cannot have which turns Sergey into a man drained of any light.

This despondency begins to infect the team after many weeks of no success in finding the diamond deposits. Campsite after campsite and thousands of samples later they come up empty and defeated. The realization begins to sink into Sabinin that this expedition, his fourth, may be his last. To come up empty is non-negotiable when it comes to the Soviet State. Within these scenes of gloom, there is this beautiful and incredibly tense moment when Sergey, feeling supremely jealous of the thin framed scientist Andrey, confronts him while standing in a bog about Tatiana and how he is unworthy. He beats and pummels the man he calls a mosquito. Andrey’s only rebuttal is a calm, somber disagreement of Sergey’s bad behavior, and how his actions will never get him the love he desires. He doesn’t fight back and simply walks away.

This moment is heightened even more in the next scene as the group hits an all time low. In a newly dug trench, Tatian and Sergey work alongside each other searching for evidence of diamonds. With the drone of his pick axe slamming the ground over and over again, the thud builds to a tempo and tension that is just electric and frightening. Like a zombie drained of any emotion, Sergey stares at Tatiana in such a dramatic way that the audience can read it like a billboard. He is going to assault and rape her right here in this hole in the ground. Without even a hint of facial expression, Sergey telegraphs the horror that is about to unfold. Tatiana sees this as well and starts to buckle only to yell at him stop even before he has even moved a single centimeter. She knows what his next actions are, a man desperate and devoid of any checks and balances that would otherwise stop a person from doing the unthinkable. Sergey to his credit, stops gathers himself and then leaves the ditch.

Then it happens, the eureka moment when Tatiana scared and now crying with her lover Andrey now beside her sees the evidence they have all been working so hard for, diamonds! I can’t stress enough how as a viewer, this scene initially put me in place of terror only to end up in jubilation for our characters. It’s nuts, and I loved it.

Just as our heroes are celebrating their win, they decided to hit the sack for the night and soon find themselves in the second circle of hell. For the morning rise brought with it the antagonist of this film, a firestorm in the forest of Bolshaya Zemlya. The crew, now frantic to save the geological samples of evidence of their find and the priceless map of the location of the discovered diamond vein, loses one of their own. Sergey’s quick bout of heroism has him dive into the bog, beyond the brush to gather their materials and toss them over a burning tree to his comrades. In the act of saving all they worked for, the steely-eyed hero is crushed by a tree engulfed in flames. The three, Sabinin, Tatiana and Andrey now find themselves on a journey coiled in fire hundreds of miles long.

Here in the wilderness of Siberia, there are no roads; no internet cafe’s, no pay phones to make a call home. With the fire raging across the screen- a trick used by the Director often in this film, you are left with this fast building sense of worry. The 4:3 aspect ratio is such a dream in this movie. The limited view makes the fast trek through this forest fire feel like you are well and truly there. Sergey Urusevsky, the cinematographer for this film, is nothing but a pure genius. How he captured these shots though the thicket of this dense forest, which was literally on fire is the most amazing thing I have ever seen on film. Quite literally the cameraman puts himself in the fiery mess to deliver these stunning visuals. I sincerely doubt something like this could even be achieved practically today. The sheer danger and work protections from OSHA would make it impossible and for a good reason. The fast paced side scrolling fire infused imagery is something I will never forget, and for me, it brought back lots of memories when I was a boy visiting Portugal. There in the northern mountains of Portugal for a summer visit to my father’s picturesque town of Gorgoco, fires raged through the forest, and there were a couple of times where we thought we might be in trouble. The smell of fresh pine burning and the smoke it creates is unforgettable, and this film brought it all back in spades for me.

If the lust of Tatiana and that 1000-yard stare wasn’t good enough, the radio on Andrey’s back is one of the best-supporting actors of this film. The crew report back to base daily on their good, reliable shortwave backpack radio. These vital transmissions to base command detail their current whereabouts, the general mood and successes of the team. The radio is their only lifeline to the real world as it is their only means to call up a helicopter to go home. When the firestorm breaks out, the radio gets damaged in the best drama filled way possible. They can hear the transmissions, but they cannot send communications in return. Here through the march of desolate unbearable smoke, they listen to their masters on the radio, first celebrating their good news, then worry about their loss of transmissions. Soon after, the worst as the realization that the team is lost in a firestorm stretching across a thousand miles. The final direction from base command is deafening as they remind the survivors that they are well off their path and hope of rescue is slim. With little food and water, something that scorched Earth has little of, our trio begins their trek to the wide river. There they will find there only hope in a raft or boat and float their way to civilization.

Each frame is flame and dense forest in constant motion. Each step is scorched lungs and despair. Their panic compounds when Andrey injures his leg and must be carried by Tatiana and Sabinin. Exhausted both physically and mentally, they begin to collapse. So much so that Andrey in the dead of night decides that he must leave his compatriots and be lost to the flames to save his love Tatiana so that she might have a chance to survive. In this night scene lit by fires in every corner, she screams into the night searching for her love demanding “He has no right!”, Only to finally give up. Here Sabinin and Tatiana continue one, slow step by slow step until they hit the high peaks at the edge of the Siberian plateau where winter has come. Snow and cold with inadequate supplies food and water, we see our duo soon become one as Tatiana succumbs to the cold.

It is in the final scenes of this film that our beloved leader Sabinin carries on until he reaches the wide river and creates one of the coolest scenes I have ever seen in a movie. Walking in the snow in bare socks, riddled with frostbite, he builds a raft from a fallen frozen tree. Something akin to a mini ice float that he drops himself onto in bid to float to civilization. There he decides to build a campfire at its end of the raft as he gently floats downstream. The makeshift ice raft is so cold that the fire at it bow doesn’t even pose a problem. After a long drift, a savior in the way of a helicopter finds Sabinin, beached alongside the banks of the river. In face covered in frost in one of the best close-ups I have ever seen, Sabinin finally opens his eyes as the crew is checking for a heartbeat. In roaring musical tones we see his eyes open slowly defying fate and beating the odds for the people of Soviet Republic and his Wife of his precious letters.

I love this film. After two weeks of letting it sink in, I find myself drifting off thinking about it. Letters Never Sent is a simple story, but damn if it doesn’t have you wanting to come back for more. It’s superb and should be mandated viewing for anyone wanting to be a cinematographer. If this movie were filmed in cinemascope, it wouldn’t feel as claustrophobic, and it would lose its intensity. The close ups and look of this film by cinematographer Sergey Urusevsky are breathtaking and impactful.

Of course, this is a Star Wars blog, and a small part of Rian’s Challenge is how this film would provide some muse or inspiration for Star Wars: The Last Jedi. For me, the role of Sabinin and his journey through the fire instantly reminded me of Luke Skywalker and how his demeanor would culminate by the time we witness him on the deserted planet of AHCH-TO. A Jedi who has seen his share of optimism, despair, jubilation and horror mirrors what Sabinin has endured in Letters Never Sent. Men brought to their knees with the demands of the universe and wanting nothing of it anymore. Sabinin is looking for diamonds in the deserted forest of Siberia and Luke searching for enlightenment in the Force on the hidden Jedi temple on AHCH-TO.

Letters Never Sent reminds us to never give up for the causes that matter most. For Sabinin it was to return to his Wife and to enrich the lives of those of the Motherland. For me, the lesson remains to revel in the work of compelling storytellers and to endeavor to better understand their craft.

You can pick up “Letters Never Sent” on Amazon here; you will be glad you did. Special thanks to Director Rian Johnson and Pablo Hidalgo for their commitment to expanding our knowledge of storytelling.

[myhauntedsalem]

13 True Horror Stories from the Psychiatric Ward that Will Give You the Creeps

Death, illness and tragedy have long been part of the history of insane asylums, and for as long as they have existed, so too have the scary stories associated with them. From haunted hospitals to sadistic doctors and nurses, psychiatric wards have been the inspiration for many of our favorite horror movies and books. Yet, the true stories told by the psych ward workers below far surpass any horrors that we might have seen at the cinema or read in a book.

Without further ado, here are thirteen of some of the creepiest psych ward stories on the internet that have been shared by health care professionals.

1. HOLDING HER OWN EYES

My mom told me this story from her time at a neuropsychiatric ward while she was in grad school. She was making her routine room checks and happened upon the most horrific scene I’ve ever heard.

This was during the night shift, and generally, all the patients’ bedroom doors should be closed. So my mom turned a corner and noticed an open door. She saw a staff member’s legs on the floor, halfway out the doorway.

When she looked into the room, she saw the patient, a woman with a severe postpartum psychiatric disorder, who had just gouged both of her own eyes out with her bare hands. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, holding her eyes in her hands.

The first staff member to witness the scene, who was now lying face down on the floor, had a heart attack when he first witnessed the woman while he was making his rounds.

My mom screamed for help and frantically tried to perform CPR on the staff member. All the while, the woman just sat rather calmly, holding her own eyes.

2. THE SAW

I work as a psychotherapist in a hospital system. My definition of creepy is probably quite a bit different from other medical professionals.

The one that got to me the most was a patient who came to us after attempting suicide by sawing both his arms off at the forearm with a table saw. His arms were reattached, fairly successfully too, with only limited impairments in mobility. All I could think was how bad it would have to be to live in his head that sawing his arms off seemed better than that.

He has since completed suicide.

3. JANE?

We had a young lady in our custody with quite a few issues. We’ll call her Jane. Jane’s first night at our facility staff doing a bed check found Jane in a puddle of blood. Turns out Jane had been slicing the skin around her shin with her finger nails and was pulling her skin up her leg, essentially de-gloving her calf.

Jane also had a ritual she performed every night before bed. While in her room she would run between walls in her room touching them in a crucifix pattern. After doing this for a few hours she would sit on her bed and go to sleep. This particular night Jane was frantic in her pace, practically running between walls. Our night staff observed the entire interaction and reported Jane screaming late into the night. When the staff went to check on Jane she reported Jane standing in the doorway smiling. The staff asked what was wrong and Jane replied, “what makes you think you are speaking to Jane?”

4. THE VAMPIRE

My mom worked in mental institutions in her younger years (and actually worked at a large, well-known asylum before it was shut down.)

There was one woman there that thought she was a vampire of sorts. She was only allowed out one hour a day, and they had to use safety precautions. She had already attacked and killed at least one hospital worker before these were enacted.

When my Mom asked about her, it was revealed that she had killed at least two of her children, wounded another as well as her husband because she had some sort of physical condition called Porphyria, which apparently made her crave blood.

By the time that they discovered there was something physically wrong with her, she already had lost her mind from guilt and grief.

5. THE SPITTER

I’m not a psychologist but my friend is. She told me about a patient of hers who was HIV positive and a paranoid schizophrenic. He thought that the nurses who worked at the hospital he was in were trying to kill him, so he would frequently bite his tongue, and spit HIV positive blood into their faces/mouths. When they had to come into contact with him, they were required to wear full masks and gloves.

6. THE ONLY ONE

I once knew a woman who had spent part of her residency at a psychiatric hospital for people with severe mental conditions. Apparently, the grounds had a lovely, enclosed greenhouse. One day, one of their schizophrenic patients was sitting on a bench, smoking a cigarette, as a heron frantically flew around. It had found its way in and, not being able to escape, it was smashing into the large panes of glass. The man just sat there watching.

Finally, my counselor asked him if the bird was bothering him and he kind of sighed and said, “Thank god, I thought I was the only one seeing that.”

7. FAMILY PHOTOGRAPHS

My sister is the director of a psychiatric hospital. There was recently a lady there who would cut her arms, legs and torso open and place photographs of her family under her skin.

8. UNDER THE BED

Once, a fellow female patient told me she found writings under her bed. They were just old, small wooden bed frames with hard mattresses that would make all kinds of noises when you rolled over, but I still wondered what exactly she was doing lying under her bed to find these writings.

When she first told me, I thought it was a joke. But sure enough, one day during group we managed to sneak away, and she showed me. Indeed, there were stories written under her bed. After that, we had everyone check under their own beds, and there was more writing under every single bed.

They were stories of patients who had stayed here before, or ways they were planning on killing themselves, or who the good and bad nurses were. It creeped me out.

9. TIME OF DEATH

Well, my mother was a nurse that specialized in geriatrics, and she worked for several hospice hospitals for many years. She often described situations at her work with several of the patients. She would say that each person tends to have a very similar “checklist” that they follow right before death. This checklist often ended in a very similar way. They would get caught talking to someone that wasn’t there. When asked who they (otherwise lucid people) were talking to, they would describe an individual who was already dead. When asked what they were talking about, they would say that their relative wanted to know if they were ready to move on. A pretty common response would be, “Yeah, he/she said that she will take me tomorrow at 3:00.” Well, it would often happen that they would die at the exact time their relatives quoted.

10. THE TEST SUBJECT

I had an hour-long conversion with a delusional guy who was confined to a mental health facility, and who was probably smarter than I am. Lots of these folks believe that somebody – often the CIA – is either beaming thoughts into their heads, or has implanted a microchip in their brains for this purpose. This guy was offering a very thoughtful argument as to why such claims should not be so quickly dismissed.

“It’s precisely because such delusions are so common that mental patients make the best test subjects,” he said. There he was, confined and protected, constantly observed, his health and behavior documented, and there is zero chance that anyone would ever take his concerns seriously. How else would you test and improve such technology? Does the government not have a strong motivation and a plausible ability to create such a device?

“You can see I’m not irrational,” the man said. “I’m just straight-up telling you that they are doing this to me. I know just how unbelievable it sounds, and yet, here I am.”

11. THE BOY WHO LOVED KNIVES

As a tech in psych years ago, there was a 7-year-old kid sent to the floor because the mom didn’t know what to do with him. Sadly, common thing to happen, even if the kids don’t have psych issues. Anyway, the mom was shaking and crying, and they had to take the kid into another room. She was genuinely afraid of her own son. She had suspected something was wrong when she kept finding mutilated animals in the backyard, but never heard or saw coyotes or anything around. The neighbors smaller pets started disappearing. The boy had an obsession with knives, hiding them around the house. Denying anything when the mom confronted him. Then when the two started getting into arguments, he would get really violent and hit her, push her down and kick her, threaten to kill her. On multiple occasions she woke up in the middle of the night with him standing beside her bed, staring her in the face. She put extra locks on her bedroom door to feel safe while she slept. The last straw was when she lifted up his mattress and found 50+ knives of all shapes and sizes under there. So she brought him to us.

I remember talking to him, treating him like he was just any other kid that came through. He seemed remarkably normal, until you spoke directly to him. He had this way of looking right through you, or maybe like he didn’t see you at all while you were speaking.

He would respond like a robot, like he was just saying words because that’s what we wanted to hear. And he would always put on this creepy, dead-looking smile. Like all mouth and no eye involvement in the smile. Especially when he would get away with something, like taking another kid’s markers and they couldn’t figure it out. Still gives me chills laying here thinking about him.

I believe I met a 7-year-old psychopath.

12. THE NEW MOM

I was a pharmacy technician at a hospital with a psych ward for some time. We would have to go around with a cart and dispense the patients’ medications, and being a 5’2″ girl, a security guard or male nurse would accompany me, just as a precaution. I never had any real issues other than the occasional death grip onto my arm or manic outbursts, but there was one boy who was entirely different.

His chart said he was nine and he had pale skin, dark hair, and huge bright, green eyes. He always greeted me in the most polite way, asked how I was doing, and always found something different to compliment me on every time. He was extremely well-spoken and mature for his age, so I began looking forward to seeing him, as normal small talk is definitely cherished in that setting. If he saw me outside of his room in the halls, he made sure to say hello and always called me “Miss Jones” or “ma’am.”

One day, a couple of our female nurses saw me pause to chat with him in the hallway, and waved me over to ask if I was out of my mind. Apparently, when he was in kindergarten, he grew an intense attachment to his young female teacher.

This escalated to the point of him calling her “Mom” and leaving notes for her about how he wished he were her son. He had a normal home-life with both parents, and the teacher tried to explain to him that she couldn’t be his mom because that would hurt his real mother’s feelings, and that she already had that job covered.

So, he went home and, killed his own mother in her sleep by cutting her throat, so his teacher could be his mom. The female staff had a general rule of not interacting with him excessively to prevent any kind of attachment from forming.

13. BUGS

Nothing I can say can possibly describe the year I worked in Psychiatric Intensive Care. Creepy isn’t the thing that comes to mind when I think back on it…more heartbreaking and horrifying. But creepiness was a part of it. Especially evening and night shifts, naturally.

There is always something disturbing about watching someone while they hallucinate. You can tell it is 100% real to them, and something about that makes you believe it, on some level. A lot of stories end with, “and of course, I had to look over my shoulder to make sure”. You see the emotions it brings out.

There was a woman that came in and sat down across the table from me for her admission interview. She had bandages all over her arms and scotch tape over her mouth and ears. She looked very uncomfortable and wouldn’t really sit still. When the nurse would ask her a question, she would peel the corner of the tape back and answer, then stick the tape back on really fast.

We eventually found out that she saw and felt bugs crawling all over her, and they were trying to get inside her body. The tape was to keep the bugs out. The bandages were because some bugs got in and she had to dig them out. She couldn’t sit still because she felt the bugs all over her even while we sat and talked. The worst part was, she had some idea that it was her mind playing tricks on her. Can you imagine going through your life, feeling like someone is continuously dumping buckets of cockroaches on your head, feeling like they’re all over you and getting inside of you to the point that you’re digging chunks out of your flesh in a panic, all while knowing intellectually that none of it is real?

[myhauntedsalem]

13 True Horror Stories from the Psychiatric Ward that Will Give You the Creeps

Death, illness and tragedy have long been part of the history of insane asylums, and for as long as they have existed, so too have the scary stories associated with them. From haunted hospitals to sadistic doctors and nurses, psychiatric wards have been the inspiration for many of our favorite horror movies and books. Yet, the true stories told by the psych ward workers below far surpass any horrors that we might have seen at the cinema or read in a book.

Without further ado, here are thirteen of some of the creepiest psych ward stories on the internet that have been shared by health care professionals.

1. Holding her own Eyes My mom told me this story from her time at a neuropsychiatric ward while she was in grad school. She was making her routine room checks and happened upon the most horrific scene I’ve ever heard.

This was during the night shift, and generally, all the patients’ bedroom doors should be closed. So my mom turned a corner and noticed an open door. She saw a staff member’s legs on the floor, halfway out the doorway.

When she looked into the room, she saw the patient, a woman with a severe postpartum psychiatric disorder, who had just gouged both of her own eyes out with her bare hands. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, holding her eyes in her hands.

The first staff member to witness the scene, who was now lying face down on the floor, had a heart attack when he first witnessed the woman while he was making his rounds.

My mom screamed for help and frantically tried to perform CPR on the staff member. All the while, the woman just sat rather calmly, holding her own eyes.

2. The Saw I work as a psychotherapist in a hospital system. My definition of creepy is probably quite a bit different from other medical professionals.

The one that got to me the most was a patient who came to us after attempting suicide by sawing both his arms off at the forearm with a table saw. His arms were reattached, fairly successfully too, with only limited impairments in mobility. All I could think was how bad it would have to be to live in his head that sawing his arms off seemed better than that.

He has since completed suicide.

3. Jane? We had a young lady in our custody with quite a few issues. We’ll call her Jane. Jane’s first night at our facility staff doing a bed check found Jane in a puddle of blood. Turns out Jane had been slicing the skin around her shin with her finger nails and was pulling her skin up her leg, essentially de-gloving her calf.

Jane also had a ritual she performed every night before bed. While in her room she would run between walls in her room touching them in a crucifix pattern. After doing this for a few hours she would sit on her bed and go to sleep. This particular night Jane was frantic in her pace, practically running between walls. Our night staff observed the entire interaction and reported Jane screaming late into the night. When the staff went to check on Jane she reported Jane standing in the doorway smiling. The staff asked what was wrong and Jane replied, “what makes you think you are speaking to Jane?”

4. The Vampire My mom worked in mental institutions in her younger years (and actually worked at a large, well-known asylum before it was shut down.)

There was one woman there that thought she was a vampire of sorts. She was only allowed out one hour a day, and they had to use safety precautions. She had already attacked and killed at least one hospital worker before these were enacted.

When my Mom asked about her, it was revealed that she had killed at least two of her children, wounded another as well as her husband because she had some sort of physical condition called Porphyria, which apparently made her crave blood.

By the time that they discovered there was something physically wrong with her, she already had lost her mind from guilt and grief.

5. The Spitter I’m not a psychologist but my friend is. She told me about a patient of hers who was HIV positive and a paranoid schizophrenic. He thought that the nurses who worked at the hospital he was in were trying to kill him, so he would frequently bite his tongue, and spit HIV positive blood into their faces/mouths. When they had to come into contact with him, they were required to wear full masks and gloves.

6. The Only One I once knew a woman who had spent part of her residency at a psychiatric hospital for people with severe mental conditions. Apparently, the grounds had a lovely, enclosed greenhouse. One day, one of their schizophrenic patients was sitting on a bench, smoking a cigarette, as a heron frantically flew around. It had found its way in and, not being able to escape, it was smashing into the large panes of glass. The man just sat there watching.

Finally, my counselor asked him if the bird was bothering him and he kind of sighed and said, “Thank god, I thought I was the only one seeing that.”

7. Family Photographs My sister is the director of a psychiatric hospital. There was recently a lady there who would cut her arms, legs and torso open and place photographs of her family under her skin.

8. Under the Bed Once, a fellow female patient told me she found writings under her bed. They were just old, small wooden bed frames with hard mattresses that would make all kinds of noises when you rolled over, but I still wondered what exactly she was doing lying under her bed to find these writings.

When she first told me, I thought it was a joke. But sure enough, one day during group we managed to sneak away, and she showed me. Indeed, there were stories written under her bed. After that, we had everyone check under their own beds, and there was more writing under every single bed.

They were stories of patients who had stayed here before, or ways they were planning on killing themselves, or who the good and bad nurses were. It creeped me out.

9. Time of Death Well, my mother was a nurse that specialized in geriatrics, and she worked for several hospice hospitals for many years. She often described situations at her work with several of the patients. She would say that each person tends to have a very similar “checklist” that they follow right before death. This checklist often ended in a very similar way. They would get caught talking to someone that wasn’t there. When asked who they (otherwise lucid people) were talking to, they would describe an individual who was already dead. When asked what they were talking about, they would say that their relative wanted to know if they were ready to move on. A pretty common response would be, “Yeah, he/she said that she will take me tomorrow at 3:00.” Well, it would often happen that they would die at the exact time their relatives quoted.

10. The Test Subject I had an hour-long conversion with a delusional guy who was confined to a mental health facility, and who was probably smarter than I am. Lots of these folks believe that somebody – often the CIA – is either beaming thoughts into their heads, or has implanted a microchip in their brains for this purpose. This guy was offering a very thoughtful argument as to why such claims should not be so quickly dismissed.

“It’s precisely because such delusions are so common that mental patients make the best test subjects,” he said. There he was, confined and protected, constantly observed, his health and behavior documented, and there is zero chance that anyone would ever take his concerns seriously. How else would you test and improve such technology? Does the government not have a strong motivation and a plausible ability to create such a device?

“You can see I’m not irrational,” the man said. “I’m just straight-up telling you that they are doing this to me. I know just how unbelievable it sounds, and yet, here I am.”

11. The Boy who Loved Knives As a tech in psych years ago, there was a 7-year-old kid sent to the floor because the mom didn’t know what to do with him. Sadly, common thing to happen, even if the kids don’t have psych issues. Anyway, the mom was shaking and crying, and they had to take the kid into another room. She was genuinely afraid of her own son. She had suspected something was wrong when she kept finding mutilated animals in the backyard, but never heard or saw coyotes or anything around. The neighbors smaller pets started disappearing. The boy had an obsession with knives, hiding them around the house. Denying anything when the mom confronted him. Then when the two started getting into arguments, he would get really violent and hit her, push her down and kick her, threaten to kill her. On multiple occasions she woke up in the middle of the night with him standing beside her bed, staring her in the face. She put extra locks on her bedroom door to feel safe while she slept. The last straw was when she lifted up his mattress and found 50+ knives of all shapes and sizes under there. So she brought him to us.

I remember talking to him, treating him like he was just any other kid that came through. He seemed remarkably normal, until you spoke directly to him. He had this way of looking right through you, or maybe like he didn’t see you at all while you were speaking.

He would respond like a robot, like he was just saying words because that’s what we wanted to hear. And he would always put on this creepy, dead-looking smile. Like all mouth and no eye involvement in the smile. Especially when he would get away with something, like taking another kid’s markers and they couldn’t figure it out. Still gives me chills laying here thinking about him.

I believe I met a 7-year-old psychopath.

12. The New Mom I was a pharmacy technician at a hospital with a psych ward for some time. We would have to go around with a cart and dispense the patients’ medications, and being a 5’2″ girl, a security guard or male nurse would accompany me, just as a precaution. I never had any real issues other than the occasional death grip onto my arm or manic outbursts, but there was one boy who was entirely different.

His chart said he was nine and he had pale skin, dark hair, and huge bright, green eyes. He always greeted me in the most polite way, asked how I was doing, and always found something different to compliment me on every time. He was extremely well-spoken and mature for his age, so I began looking forward to seeing him, as normal small talk is definitely cherished in that setting. If he saw me outside of his room in the halls, he made sure to say hello and always called me “Miss Jones” or “ma’am.”

One day, a couple of our female nurses saw me pause to chat with him in the hallway, and waved me over to ask if I was out of my mind. Apparently, when he was in kindergarten, he grew an intense attachment to his young female teacher.

This escalated to the point of him calling her “Mom” and leaving notes for her about how he wished he were her son. He had a normal home-life with both parents, and the teacher tried to explain to him that she couldn’t be his mom because that would hurt his real mother’s feelings, and that she already had that job covered.

So, he went home and, killed his own mother in her sleep by cutting her throat, so his teacher could be his mom. The female staff had a general rule of not interacting with him excessively to prevent any kind of attachment from forming.

13. Bugs Nothing I can say can possibly describe the year I worked in Psychiatric Intensive Care. Creepy isn’t the thing that comes to mind when I think back on it…more heartbreaking and horrifying. But creepiness was a part of it. Especially evening and night shifts, naturally.

There is always something disturbing about watching someone while they hallucinate. You can tell it is 100% real to them, and something about that makes you believe it, on some level. A lot of stories end with, “and of course, I had to look over my shoulder to make sure”. You see the emotions it brings out.

There was a woman that came in and sat down across the table from me for her admission interview. She had bandages all over her arms and scotch tape over her mouth and ears. She looked very uncomfortable and wouldn’t really sit still. When the nurse would ask her a question, she would peel the corner of the tape back and answer, then stick the tape back on really fast.

We eventually found out that she saw and felt bugs crawling all over her, and they were trying to get inside her body. The tape was to keep the bugs out. The bandages were because some bugs got in and she had to dig them out. She couldn’t sit still because she felt the bugs all over her even while we sat and talked. The worst part was, she had some idea that it was her mind playing tricks on her. Can you imagine going through your life, feeling like someone is continuously dumping buckets of cockroaches on your head, feeling like they’re all over you and getting inside of you to the point that you’re digging chunks out of your flesh in a panic, all while knowing intellectually that none of it is real?