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iatheia · 4 years ago

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EDA reviews Part 6 - books 47-55

Previous part 1, 2, 3, 4 & 5

47) The Slow Empire - Uh, couldn't really follow this one at all. There are books when the first person narration works, but not here - too many jumps in setting, too little connective tissue, most of it told from the POV of a person who is barely connected to the protagonists? And that's even before they started repeating chunks of text wholesale between various parts - and I couldn't figure out if it was intended, or if it is the ebook was acting out on me. More than half way through the book, I still couldn't entirely tell what the story is supposed to be about, or if the plot has even started yet. Even having finished it, I find myself somewhat aghast. There are a few glimpses of something interesting, but for the life of me, I can't figure out what. 4/10

48) Dark Progeny - Also not really feeling it. It's not a bad story, but I do rather prefer a Doctor Who story to actually feature the Doctor and the companions front and center, whether they are POV characters or not. Here, though, they are barely in it - it's even more egregious than the previous one in actually giving the supposed protagonists stuff to do, and even on rare occasions we do switch back to them, it is all pretty generic. Anji developing telepathic abilities and the Doctor trying to calm her down all the while Fitz is freaking out in the background? Yes, please, more of that. Following around 20 interchangeable OCs that have nothing to do with the trio? No thank you. 6/10.

49) The City of the Dead - If you are invoking magic in a sci-fi universe, you need to be able to handwave it. It doesn't need to be awfully complex, "something something aliens, something something energy" is usually enough, but without it, you can't just throw magic about willy nilly. There are rules.

There are moments when it is a beautiful story, evoking a lot of dream-like wonder, and if it managed to remain a hazy dream, it probably would have been better for it. At the same time there is something very uncomfortably cynical about it, to the degree it left a bad taste in my mouth. There is a narrow line between not shying away from the ugliness of the world and deliberately making something ugly just for the sake of it, and often it felt like it was leaning towards the latter. Dunno, I started out wanting to like it, and feeling rather conflicted about it, but by the end became utterly indifferent. 7/10

50) Grimm Reality - Pure crack. Mind Robber wishes it could be as hilarious and off the wall as this story is. It throws every cliche fairy tale narrative device in the book at the characters and expects them to take it with the straight face, all the while realizing that the rules of the world are completely bonkers. And it manages to sustain this energy throughout, which is a no small feat. It's actually pretty exhausting by the end of it. Fairy tales stories do not belong to a lengthy literary genre, and even taking time deconstructing them, at 95K words becomes it becomes just too much - figuratively, and, on occasion, literally. Still, pretty great, I wish more books had its energy 9/10.

51) The Adventuress of Henrietta Street - *sigh*. My expectations were pretty low to begin with, and I still am somehow disappointed. Credit where credit's due - it is probably most coherent of the books from Miles. And at least it's better than Interference. That's really not saying much, though.

Honestly, if you've read any story about prostitutes, murder, satanic sex rituals bordering on blatant pornography, eastern culture and "mysticism of female sex" used for fetish fuel, written by a dude who clearly gets off on all of this - you've read all of them. There is really nothing revolutionary or compelling about it. On the list of "plots I never want to see in Doctor Who", they are definitely up there. And the Doctor is dying again, because it wouldn't be Miles's book without it. And he's, uh... living in a brothel, trying to marry someone, in order to, uh..... ritualistically tie himself to Earth, for, reasons? Did I read that right? After over 100 years of living on Earth and wanting to do nothing else than seeing the back of it, right. And writing books not quite about sex but definitely about sex. Because that's the thing the Doctor apparently does now. Self insert what self insert. And Fitz and Anji are just... there. On an occasion. All of it exposed on in a dull faux academic style without a shred of characterization, all the while absolutely nothing of note is happening, despite being a singularly longest EDA.

Just, if you hate the characters so much. If you don't understand what makes them tick to this degree. If you don't even care to learn. If you consider any established emotions they should have about the plot you are putting them through beneath you. Why are you writing in a shared universe to begin with? 2/10

(I did have an unintentional moment of hilarity with it, though. There is a character that is referred to as Lord ______, as if his name is censored. TTS would always pronounce it as Lord Underbarunderbarunderbar. Always gave me a chuckle).

52) Mad Dogs and Englishmen - A hilarious story, a very easy read, flowing from scene to scene. There are several occasions of fridge horror treated with levity that I would have rather have avoided. Plus, it is as incestuous as a book about books can get, and yet.... It is just absurd enough to work.

Plus, the whole, “His books are full of black magic, mind control...and perversion - moral and ethical and sexual. He is polluting the atmosphere of our group”, “What’s next? Rewrite War and Peace so it’s about guinea pigs?” - Oh, the shade. It is a good book in its own right, but just for this alone, 10/10

53) Hope - It's a pretty average book. Not outstanding, not horrible. Would have made a decent episode, all things considered, in a bread and butter sort of way. It does have some great ideas - the refuge of humanity, the conflict between Anji and the Doctor finally coming to light - not quite the type of conflict I was hoping for, though. If only it had a bit more nuisance, without neatly delineated black and white, if the antagonist didn't end up being a mustache twirling villain, if the Doctor didn't end up strong-arming everyone in a much more macho manner than he normally goes for (with a rather clunky dialogue). It had potential, even if it didn't end up being realized in full. 8/10

54) Anachrophobia - Very meh. The set up was fairly contrived, it never made me care about any of the characters, including whatever the hell the Doctor and co were doing, not to mention any of the secondary characters. Not terribly engaging, after a point I was mostly flipping through it. There is some big conflict brought up at 95% mark, and it is resolved in just couple of pages via a deus ex machina and a paradox. Overall, I might have said that I would have liked it better if I was in a mood for existential horror, but I took a break in the middle to listen to the Lease of Life - and it actually touches upon several similar themes, but with and outstanding character drama and much more graceful execution, which made this book look even more poor in comparison. 5/10

55) Trading Futures - I will give the author all the points for keeping an eye on the future. Perhaps, in 2002, predicting tablets being used as menus in fancy restaurants wasn’t that big of a reach, but I absolutely had a spit take when TTS has read to me something about “eye-phones”. There are some modestly clever moments throughout the book. Too bad that the rest of it is a complete rubbish. Not terribly original, either - a lot of ideas are copied directly from other books and other franchises. Reasonably entertaining, all things considered, but in a much more slapstick sort of way than was probably intended. 7/10

Overall impressions so far - This batch is, for the most part, fine. Some stories are worst than others, some better. With one exception, nothing horrendous, but nothing to write home about, either. They are, for the most part, serviceable. Individually, they have decent enough plots. But. There is very little character work. They can generally be read in any order, or dropped entirely, and you wouldn’t miss anything. The Doctor is mostly coasting from the excellent streak in the last batch, always in a spot light. I am starting to tire of the whole amnesia arc, though - it was good, but it ran its course, and at this point, with everything functionally back to norm, with barely a stray mention of it here and there, we are starting to be overdue for some semblance of resolution of all that. Henrietta Street is entirely a step in the wrong direction - not only it does nothing worthwhile for the characters, it’s just getting unnecessarily further into the weedworks, adding yet another plot thread that is forced on other writers to carry (they mention it occasionally, but it’s not like there is much to build upon) - rather viciously reminding of the previous mess of an ark “don’t you dare to think that it is over”. And I am so over it. Just, move on.

The companions fare rather worse. They are decent enough, they participate in action, in each book, they are mostly staying in character, with a handful of neat moments here and there (in a blink and you’ll miss it sort of way, though), they aren’t written off as an unnecessary burden to carry, which is an improvement. There is nothing meaty given to them though - they ask the necessary questions, do the things required of them, and generally stay out of the way when they are not needed. I guess Anji has at least some character driven moments, even though most of them are reduced to “I miss my dead boyfriend”. Which is... fine, we’ve all lost people, we all mourn them in our own way, but it has been 14 books since her introduction, and she is leaving in another 10. To have her character reduced to just that bit from her first book, with barely anything else to offer.... Plus, all the while, she rarely felt like she integrated into the team - because she is constantly eying her exit and returning to normality (even though she always decides to stay just a little while longer due to circumstances), it’s like from the very beginning she had one foot out of the door.

But while Anji is a bit of a one trick pony, at least she has that much. Poor Fitz gets absolutely nothing to do. The last meaningful book that addressed his character in any way was all the way back around book #42-43, and even that was just catching up on plot after his prolonged absence. He’s been essentially frozen since early 30s books. He is generally a fun character to have around, and does good supporting work, but can he please get something more impactful any time soon? Heck, by this point I’ll even take the recurrence of “finding a new love interest number 20 who will inevitably die by the end of the book” - it has been overdone, and it is certainly not a very exciting plot, not to mention reductive, but at least it’d be something. Though, I guess only one companion is allowed to carry that staple at the time, and right now Anji is it, two dead lovers is just an overkill.

And it is an absolute shame - especially when considering that on the other side, Big Finish was in the middle of streak of some of the best stories. Over the same time that these novels were published, we had audios such as Project Twilight, Eye of the Scorpion, Colditz, One Doctor, Chimes of Midnight, Seasons of Fear, which were full of character.

#doctor who #eighth doctor #eighth doctor adventures #eda

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starstruck-xavier · 5 years ago

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Insufferable (But Important)

my second fic for @badthingshappenbingo! this is actually the first one i started to work on upon receiving my card but i get some done quicker than others- bingo card and fic under the cut <3

ao3 || wattpad || bthb masterpost || fanfic masterpost || main masterpost words: 1735 ships: logince fandom: sanders sides prompt: adrenaline crash

summary: Roman's still running on adrenaline when he returns to the mindscape after almost four days in the imagination. When he finally crashes, Logan's there with a box of bandages, a couple of fun science facts and a few reassuring sentiments.

X = finished, O = planned/wip feel free to send in requests! even for the planned ones, for some of those i only really have ships or very vague ideas so if you wanna give me any ideas go ahead!

“I'm telling you, Logan, I don’t feel that bad at all.”

Logan huffs with frustration as he examines the very real-looking wounds on Roman’s abdomen. The prince had just stumbled in from the imagination in the middle of the night; Logan was waiting outside the magical door as per Virgil’s and Patton’s request, as it had been a while. A while, or, in Logan’s words, three days, seventeen hours and thirty-six minutes. Upon catching the glimpse of red, and the red wasn’t just from the sash, he immediately felt a twinge of hurt just looking at him.

"You’re likely still experiencing an adrenaline rush.” The logical trait tries to keep his voice as steady and level as ever, but even he knows what’s particularly gruesome to look at. “I'll warn you, after some time your adrenaline levels will deplete rapidly and you’re going to feel a lot of pain. Let me know when it does.”

Roman makes a non-committal sound, clearly not believing that there’ll be a crash at all. "I can handle it.”

There’s a short silence as Logan simply continues to clean up the injuries on the man sitting on the kitchen counter before him. Then, he sighs. "Care to explain what happened to you?”

At least the sound of Roman recalling the story gives Logan something else to focus on while he prepares rolls of bandages and checks elsewhere around the body for cuts and bruises. He imagines how the other sides would react to finding out about Roman’s injuries; Patton would stay by his side for weeks and fret like a worried parent, Virgil would probably try to ban Roman from the imagination (the imagination only belongs to the creative sides, but Virgil is ever persistent), Janus would only pretend not to be bothered whilst still insisting about the importance of self-care and side-eyeing Roman from a distance, and Remus would… well, it’s difficult to predict Remus. He could do anything, from showing a sudden brotherly empathy and being softer with him to starting a competition on who can get even more wounds. Probably the latter.

Logan’s attention is brought back to Roman as he catches his words faltering. The prince’s shoulders start to tremble and he hunches over, wincing, suddenly exhausted.

"Are you okay, Roman?” He skips the ‘I told you so’ comment, figuring that it wouldn’t be received well. Roman just exhales shakily in response; taking the time to tell the tale must’ve calmed him down and caused the crash to happen. Logan frowns when he sees the tears quickly gathering in Roman’s eyes. "You’re going to be okay soon. Just take it easy, alright? No more imagination adventures until you’re fully healed.”

The attempt at a laugh that Roman makes comes out breathy and is accompanied by a new pair of tear tracks running down his face. "Fair enough.” The laugh morphs into a snivel, and Roman rubs at his eyes in an attempt to save face, shrug it off, it’s fine. But Logan’s looking at him with softened eyes, his hand still touching the gauze he just applied to Roman’s side, a delicate but grounding touch that starts the waterworks all over again, and oh god, he just looks so un-princely and he’s breaking down in front of someone who he’s just always wanted to be good enough for. Roman waits for the condescending words, the scoffs, the sound of disinterested footsteps fading away from him…

But none of that happens. Instead, he feels Logan’s other hand rest on his knee, tracing circles with his thumb. "It’s okay to cry, Roman. Crying releases endorphins into the bloodstream, and they act like a natural painkiller.” The logical trait gives a tiny smile for reassurance. Something about him in that moment makes him look oddly adorable, like he’s just trying to help in the way he knows how, and that lessens the excruciating pain just a little. "Emotional comfort is not my area of expertise, you’re better off asking Patton for that, but just know that I…” Logan shifts his glance to the side as his cheeks start to tinge a bashful pink. “I'm here for you. You may be insufferable, but it troubles me to see you hurt, and when you didn’t come back after a day I was considering going looking for you. It was Janus who made me stay, just in case it was dangerous.”

That chokes Roman up a little more, but in a better way. He knows just how reluctant Logan usually is to go into the imagination, so the thought of him willingly going in there just to find him…

"Thanks.” Roman meets Logan’s gaze. "Thank you. It… It means a lot, coming from you.”

Logan moves his hand away from Roman’s waist to adjust his glasses absentmindedly, then nods kindly. "It’s quite alright. Let’s get you to somewhere more suitable to rest and change you into some less restrictive clothing.”

After some shuffling about from the both of them, Roman finally lands his feet back on the floor with a grimace. Being careful not to grab anywhere that’d hurt, Logan steadies him and starts to walk with him to the creative side’s room. It takes some time with Roman’s sudden lethargy and exhaustion, but he perseveres only at the thought of being able to rest in his own bed for the first time in days, and that persistence overrides the shooting pain in his feet from walking through his imaginary world for so long in those uncomfortable boots of his. He should really create something with memory foam.

He’s practically a dead weight when it comes time for him to change his clothes, but weirdly enough Logan doesn’t complain or simply leave him to it; he’s helping him. The top half of Roman’s outfit had already been removed on arrival as Logan wanted to check the damage, but that was all. Now, the injured prince who’s teetering on the border of slumber has to change entirely into something more comfortable, and he barely has the energy to use his instant outfit-swapping magic, so he leaves it to Logan. Just two minutes later, Roman’s wearing a considerably less regal looking combination of loose shorts and a baggy red shirt, but at least it feels nicer than the usual outfit that was tugging against the most painful areas of his body and was such a pain to remove, and now he’s going to have to repair that when he’s better rested and—

“Roman.” Logan crouches in front of the bed to meet his eyes. “I'd avoid falling asleep with that posture, you’ll hurt your neck.”

A small smile reaches Roman’s lips. "I wasn’t falling asleep, just thinking.” Upon a puzzled look from Logan, he continues. "You’re, uh… taking care of me. I never thought you’d…” He trails off, unsure of how to finish his sentence, unsure in general.

"You never thought I'd care about your wellbeing? Roman, you’re—” Logan seems to catch himself before he can show any kind of emotional outburst, inhaling slowly before continuing quietly. "You’re important. Not just to Thomas, and the rest of the sides, and Thomas’ audience, but to me. I might come across like I don’t like you or appreciate any of the ideas you create, but that’s just because our intentions for Thomas are so different. Roman, while you were gone, yes, Virgil was incredibly stressed and Patton constantly asked me if I thought you were coming back soon, but as for myself… I— I missed… having you around.”

The look on Logan’s face appears almost sad, like he doesn’t want Roman to leave again, and the prince quickly tries to suppress the new wave of tears. He pats the spot next to him on the bed to encourage the logical trait to sit next to him. "I missed you too. There were moments in there, as I fought some of the hardest battles, that I thought perhaps I wouldn’t make it back.” He could’ve sworn he saw a flash of panic on Logan’s face, but as quickly as it’s there, it’s gone as he composes himself again, always able to control his exterior so easily. "But I persevered, because who else was Virgil gonna listen to rock music with? Who else was Patton gonna bake with? Who else were you gonna call insufferable?” Roman’s lips quirk upwards, and finally Logan returns the smile, if only for a short while. "Seeing you, waiting for me as I returned, it lifted my spirits.”

The remnants of that smile tug at Logan’s lips as he hums shortly but fondly. "That’s good to hear. I was waiting for quite a while, y’know.”

"Oh, I do hope you didn’t hurt your back from sitting too long, specs.” Roman playfully teases him and nudges his shoulder, although his laugh is a little subdued by the dull pain in his own spine.

Logan rolls his eyes, but he still looks amused. "Well, it is vital that we make sure you’re fully rested, so I'll leave you be.”

The smiles leave Roman’s eyes for a moment. "Can’t you stay?” He holds out one hand, earning a look of confusion from Logan. "This is kinda the part where you start to leave and then I grab your wrist and ask you to stay for the night. …Oh come on, it’s a cliche, Calculator Watch.” The harmless snarkiness dances on his tongue, but it seems to be the slightly saddened look in his eyes that could only come from someone whose muscles are aching like there’s no tomorrow to really perfect his persuasion.

Logan huffs at that last remark, but still manoeuvres the both of them until they’re underneath the patchwork quilt on Roman’s bed. "You know that I don’t catch onto cliches very well.” Still, a feeling of contentment arises in his chest as he removes his glasses and places them on the nightstand before turning onto his side to face Roman. "Is this okay?”

Roman takes a blissful moment to fully absorb the image of Logan without his glasses, captures the sight of subtle shadows under his eyes and how the colour of his irises looks so much more beautiful up close. He reaches to turn off the bedside lamp and drapes one arm over Logan’s waist, pulling him closer to his chest as fatigue from his adventure finally catches up to him.

"Wonderful.”

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mysweetestcreature · 6 years ago

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Tomorrow Never Knows (President!Harry) Chapter 10: Not a Bad Thing

(Banner by the wonderful noblewomankat!)

***

Monday November 24, 2008

It’s been days since they’ve had a normal conversation...or any decent form of communication for the matter. This past week had consisted of multiple attempts (on her part) to talk to him, but each time he’d make up some excuse to cut all dialogue short. “My mum’s waiting for me outside, maybe next time?” or “I’m actually late for practice, but I’ll catch up with you later,” but of course he never did. Beyond her comprehension is how she had managed to mess everything up so badly in so little time.

Eleven minutes.

Harry had arrived eleven minutes after she had accepted Jasper’s invitation. There’s nothing she can say that can justify why she’d done it because even she isn’t so sure. Maybe she was scared. She’d been so hopeful about where this friendship with him would lead them once before, and it had costed her the first heartbreak of her life. The biggest part of her wanted so badly to wait for Harry to ask her, but a small yet seemingly influential nerve had let her insecurities take over.

She wishes she hadn’t cared so much about what other people had thought, and instead used her own judgement. She hadn’t realized just how difficult it would be for their roles to be reversed, and she only has herself to blame for it.

“I wish you’d stop stressing,” Cici tells her as they do their warmup stretches. “I doubt he’ll be able to stay mad at you for much longer.”

“You might be wrong for once,” she smiles sadly, facing down to stare numbly ahead as she reaches for her toes.

Once she and Harry had parted (or more accurately, when Harry had left her standing ashamed in the hallway), Cici had found her sitting on the floor beside her locker, a somber expression painted all over her face.

“I messed up,” is all she had mustered up in that moment of fragility, dejected eyes having fallen into her lap. And Cici –– who had already passed an equally, if not more, crestfallen boy on her way to find Y/n –– was readily equipped with her words of enthusiasm, even if she was quite disappointed in the turnout of the day. “You made one mistake –– it doesn’t make you a bad person.” Doesn’t it, though?

Cici scoffs as she tightens her ponytail. “I am many things, but I am never wrong,” she says in a matter-of-fact tone –– almost arrogantly, if you ask Y/n –– before standing up and brushing the wrinkles from her skirt. “It’s not in my vocabulary.”

“But it’s in mine, apparently,” her lips curve down.

“I didn’t mean it like–”

“I know.” She rises to her feet. “It was a stupid decision and I wish I could redo it, but I can’t now. He can barely stand to be in the same room as me for more than a class period. He hasn’t dropped by the Home Ec. Room in who knows how long, and I haven’t been able to make a decent pumpkin pie since. Me? Screw up a pie? That doesn’t happen! This weekend I typed out twenty-seven texts that I never sent. Twenty-seven, Cici! Who does something like that?! All saying the same thing, that I like him so much that it makes my heart go crazy, and how it hurts that he might think otherwise because I’m going to this stupid dance with someone who’s not Harry and it fucking sucks!”

It leaves her chest to heave heavily, and her lungs to feel completely depleted of any oxygen. With an outburst like that, she’s managed to surprise herself. And while conversations amongst the other cheerleaders continue, it feels like she’s once again in the spotlight as the heat creeps up her neck and settles on her forehead and the apples of her cheeks.

Cici stands in front of her, eyes rounded in astonishment and mouth hung open wide. Her eyes quickly dart down at her arm.

“You’ve never cussed before, I literally just got chills!”

A smile slowly reemerges. “It felt good,” she admits, and she breathes out in relief as her shoulders feel lifted from at least a portion of the weight that had been set upon them. “I’ve been holding that one in.”

“No, that was totally clear.”

A restful silence falls upon them, and Y/n makes it an opportunity to reflect on the upcoming days. She needs to fix this and salvage whatever she can before they permanently fall apart. Hating to sound dramatic, but she has a strong feeling that if they can’t recover from this, then it could be over for good.

And that’s just not in the cards.

“I’m going to tell him.”

***

Tuesday November 25, 2008

“Got any plans for Thanksgiving?” Maxxie asks him.

Harry lets out a heavy sigh, staring down at his jumbled pile of flashcards on his desk. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been thinking about it constantly because it had been toying with his mind for the better part of the weekend. “You could say that, I guess.”

The answer, in all its vague glory brings about an amused grin from the boy across from him. Maxxie leans over the table and goes as far to lift his hips off the chair just invade his personal space. “What was that tone?” he gawks, wiping the cards off the surface of the table.

“Well...” he starts off timidly (a bit of annoyance mixed in because he’s going to have to clean up the mess later), and a small burp erupts from the back of his throat as a sign of his mild discomfort. “I was sort of...maybe...actually invited to...” but the tail of the sentence is nearly undecipherable to the human ear.

Maxxie squints his blue eyes across from him. “What was that? I didn’t quite catch all of it.”

Blowing out the air from his lungs, Harry’s head falls back so all he has to focus on are the dull cracks in the ceiling. Part of him still doesn’t believe it, or rather hadn’t thought it an admissible option given the recent events. He pokes his inner cheek outwards before letting out a tired groan. “We’re spending it with Y/n’s family, okay? There, I said it.”

“You’re bluffing!”

Harry whistles out a breath. “Not today, mate,” he chortles, rubbing the base of his palm against his left eye. “Jeremy literally asked my mum the day after...well, you know.”

“Are you going to be able to manage it?” there’s a weariness in Maxxie’s voice.

But honestly, Harry doesn’t know. Yes, he’s still broken up about the whole thing. Yet, the hardest part is being next to her and feeling as though he’s missed every chance that he’s had at being hers. Because he’s sure it’ll take him a long time before he’s over her, and that’s what hurts the most.

***

On Day 6, Pattern D finds itself at ten in the morning, the third class of the Tuesday before Thanksgiving break. To Y/n it’ll be the first class she has with Harry, meaning another chance to get things straightened out between them. Now that their positions are reversed, she feels even worse about having treated him so harshly the month before when there had been a hefty cloak of uncertainty to keep things understandably complicated.

Just as Mr. Daughtry’s door comes into sight, her path is intercepted by a body suddenly appearing before her.

“Hey, you!” Jasper greets her with a bright grin. There’s a moment of clumsiness when she predicts his fluid movements based on how his arm extends and fingers point in her direction as they rise to the height of her shoulder. In a slight panic, she twists arounds, pretending to fish for a pencil from the side pouch of her backpack. Luckily (for him) he’s able to stop himself from proceeding, and he shrugs the action off as he stretches that same arm over his head. With a skittish laugh he continues. “I feel like I haven’t seen much of you this week.”

“I’ve just been busy,” she mumbles, hugging her grey math notebook close to her chin. She can’t help but wonder if he isn’t late to some class, or club meeting, or some discussion about hair accessories (the latter causes her to snigger to herself).

Jasper simply nods, pulling slightly on the knot of his tie. “So, I told my mom about the formal and she’s super stoked that we’re going together,” he blushes. “I mean, I’m really happy you said yes.”

Meanwhile, the metallic taste of blood starts to fill her mouth the longer she keeps her tongue trapped between her teeth. “Yeah...” she struggles to find her voice. The right thing to do would be to come clean, to be straightforward with him and give him the honest answer he had deserved from the beginning.

Blowing the air from her nostrils, she parts her lips as they wrap around the words. “Jasper, I actually need to talk to you about that...”

“Karan! What’s up, man?”

She forces an unbothered appearance in front of Jasper’s friend –– Karan –– as they start a whole conversation of their own.

This is something she’s found to dislike very much, how Jasper always seems to forget that his friends aren’t her friends...well, at least none that she particularly like enough to call by such an intimate name. It bothers her because she doesn’t know if she can walk away or if this boy has any intention of including her or even continuing with what they’d started only minutes before.

She taps her foot contempt, not even caring if either find her actions to be tactless. All Jasper does is shoot half a smile before carrying on talking about the latest scandal to hit the tenth grade.

“I should really get to class,” she meddles in the momentary pause between speakers. “See you around.”

Before Jasper can send her off with a proper goodbye, she turns around and keeps en route for the classroom. As soon as she’s about to cross under the arch, she collides with another body, notebook falling from her hands and falling open-faced on the floor.

“’m sorry,” the other rushes out, his voice all too recognizable to her ears. Harry quickly picks up the notebook and holds it out for her to take, but all she notices is how his eyes remain low and unwilling to look at her.

“Thank you,” she whispers. He gives her a nod in response before signaling for her to go enter ahead of him. But she stays in glued in place. “Do you think we can...”

“There might be a pop quiz, I heard,” he interrupts, his hand finding the small of her back to gently prod her into the room. Despite it being nothing more than a graze of his fingers over her sweater, she still feels jolts of electricity run up her spine and tickle the back of neck.

With their arrival being just a minute or so before roll call, the only available seats are towards the very rear, two desks grouped together and pushed in the far-right corner of the room. His hand falls back to his side, the absence of his touch leaving her colder than she had just been. It makes her frown, and as they make their way to the back, the space between them only grows.

For her, this has to be the most difficult consequence to deal with.

“Alright, since everyone is settled in,” Mr. Daughtry starts, uncapping a blue dry erase marker. “Let’s go over last night’s homework.” And he ponders down at the reference notes on the podium, before the shrill squeaks of the marker against the whiteboard slowly begin to reveal an equation.

Beside her, Harry opens up his notebook, each homework problem neatly organized (this includes all the work he’d done to solve them) over two pages. She looks straight ahead, slightly squinting so she can decipher the correct answers on the board. “How is it 43?” she asks under her breath, staring down at problem #5.

“It was a negative two, not positive...which would mean b becomes positive in the expression,” he answers. He orients his notes towards her. “Right there,” he points to it with tip of his pencil. He leans in a little closer, elbow coming to rest on the table as his head tilts in her direction. Her heart goes crazy as he goes on to explain the steps of the equation. It’s the first time in days he’s willingly talked to her, even if it is about schoolwork. But she forces herself to shake off the feeling for the time being, if only to prevent herself from messing this up.

“How’d I even...” And she cross checks with his work, brows curling inward. “Oh, I’m such dummy. I didn’t even notice that!” she shakes her head and rubs her eraser over the page.

He looks at her for the first time today with a prelude of the softest smile. “You’re not.”

She offers him a toothy grin as she settles back down. Every now and again will she sneak an admiring gaze.

***

“Harry!” she calls after him. In the short period of time she’d taken to pack her things, he had already fled the room by the time she looked up. It took squeezing her way through two bulky juniors from their class to quickly find his mop of brown curls in the crowded corridor.

At the sound of his name, he begrudgingly comes to a stop. He sighs and scratches the back of his head, his internal monologue arguing that he should continue forward. The decision is to be outweighed by a greater influence.

“Hi,” Y/n says in a bit of a wheeze.

“Hi,” he returns, nodding. He watches as those around them disperse in their difference directions, until the hallway soon becomes barren during this first lunch period. “What’s going on?” he asks simply.

She absentmindedly goes to mess with a loose strand of hair. “I was just...” she snivels (allergy season can be a real nuisance). “Wanted to say that I’m really looking forward to Thursday.”

“Oh,” his mouth forms an o with his lips. He glances to the floor and wriggles his feet as though pebbles were buried in his shoes. “Yeah, I think my mum’s bringing trifle or some kind of dessert.”

“That’s sweet of her,” she affirms. “Are you excited?”

Harry looks up, noticing the hope embedded in her eyes. “It could be fun,” he says evenly. “Your dad seems pretty keen on watching the Packers game together. Mason, too, I guess.”

“Mason hasn’t stopped talking about it,” she admits shyly, but can’t help but giggle at the thought of her brother. “You know, he told his teacher that you were his best friend.”

It’s Harry’s turn to laugh. “Really?” Y/n nods enthusiastically. “He’s a cool kid. Tell him I’m honored.”

“You can always tell him on Thursday.”

Harry smiles. “I will.”

***

Thursday November 27, 2008

Thanksgiving Day has never been more stressful for Y/n. Not only has she been baking since last night (did someone say four different flavors of pie and three fall-themed cookies, and a carrot cake bigger than her dad’s head?) but she must have changed her outfit at least nine times in the last half hour. The Styles’ are expected to arrive at around 5pm, which means she only has another forty-five minutes to come up with the perfect ensemble. Earlier in the afternoon, it had just occurred to her that she hasn’t met Anne nor Gemma, and she’d be dishonest if she said she wasn’t ultra-nervous about it.

Gosh, how her stomach feels so full of air.

She wishes she could be as carefree as Mason because all he’s been fretting over is which boardgame to play with Harry after dinner and which Disney movie he’s going to have running on the laptop whilst Jeremy slaves away to the television at approximately 8pm.

“Do you think Harry likes Monopoly or Connect Four?” the little boy asks. She tears her attention from her cookie display to look down at her brother who’s holding two boxes up for her to examine.

“But, Mase,” she giggles, wiping her hands on her apron. “You don’t know how to play Monopoly.”

Mason looks at the box in his right hand and eyes it carefully. He gives her a signal of understanding before trotting off back into the living room to set up. Shaking her head, she continues setting up the cookies along the three-tier server. Hopefully, it’ll be enough to impress their guests. “It’ll be fine,” she tells herself.

***

The doorbell rings, and almost instantly does it cause alarm within Y/n.

“Oh my god!” she panics, running around the kitchen to quadruple check that everything is exactly as it should be. “Dad! Dad! Did you–”

“Yes.”

“How about the–”

“Yes.”

“Okay but what about–”

“Y/n,” Jeremy says sternly from the foyer. She closes her eyes as she listens to the bottom rim of the door brush along the mat. “Welcome! Nice to see you again, Anne. Harry, ready for that Packers game? Oh, hello! I don’t think I’ve met you yet?”

Her eyes widen, he must be talking to Gemma! Harry had told her stories about how close they are since Anne’s job requires a lot of traveling. Oh gosh, she must hate her for having done what she did to her brother. She knows this because she would absolutely despise anyone who would ever dare to hurt Mason. “I think I’m going to be sick,” she breathes unevenly and braces herself over the counter.

“Not to validate anything your father says,” Olivia sneaks up from behind, “but you really do need to relax.” She takes a good look at her daughter. “Weren’t you wearing the brown sweater?”

But before Y/n has the chance to answer, three new faces enter from the side, her heart skipping over multiple beats as she becomes tightlipped.

“Hello!” Olivia greets them. “We’re so happy to have you join us! I’m Olivia, by the way.”

Harry’s sister nudges him from behind. “Oh, um...” he looks behind him. “This is my mum Anne, and my sister Gemma.”

“So nice to meet you,” Anne smiles, and she extends a hand to Olivia, Gemma does the same. “You have such beautiful home. Are those chrysanths you have along the walkway? They’re absolutely stunning!”

Olivia covers a hand over her heart. “I like you already,” she sobs playfully. “Finally, someone who gets it! Two kids and neither of them share a love for gardening.”

“You can say that again,” Anne returns. The two share a laugh, and Olivia leads them into the dining room to continue on with their chat.

It leaves Y/n with Harry and Gemma, and she isn’t even sure where Jeremy might have wandered off to now. Harry whispers something into Gemma’s ear, and she rolls her eyes before shoving her elbow into his side. Y/n can’t help but wonder what he’s saying. Is it about her? Has he found something wrong? Stop this! She reaches behind her and pinches herself. Relax.

Taking a bold step forward, she strikes up conversation. “Hi, I’m Y/n.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Gemma replies, a warm aura radiating from her being.

Y/n tilts her head. “Good things, I hope.”

“Well,” the older girl starts, sending a smirk at her brother and sniggering when his eyes widen in realization. “This one never stops talking about you.”

Harry gasps, “Now wait just a minute.” But as soon as he’s about to come up with a rebuttal, he’s immediately attacked from behind with a hug. Short arms lock his legs together, and if it weren’t for his sister standing there for support, he would have most definitely fallen over. “There he is!”

“Harry!” Mason giggles, reaching his arms above his head, a notorious signal for Harry to lift him up. “Did you miss me?”

“Duh!” Harry teases. “How can I not miss my bestest mate?”

***

Dinner goes better than either she or Harry can expect. Their families seem to have taken well with one another, Anne and Olivia having already formed that instant bond over maternal care and green thumbs. Jeremy is shocked to hear that Gemma is interested in programming herself, and he’s even more impressed to learn that she’s in the process of building her own website. As for Mason, well...it’s a little hard not to fall in love this boy when all he pours out into the world is happiness, and maybe a little bit of cupcake frosting.

A seating arrangement had predetermined their positions at the table (thanks to Olivia and her brilliant mind). As it had happened, Y/n and Harry are seated beside each other, their chairs closer than usual with the extra chair on his other side. Although, it became apparent throughout dinner of the gap –– while not visible to the human eye –– that remains between them.

Y/n doesn’t understand why that is, especially since they’d seemed to be on better terms on Tuesday. While they hadn’t eaten lunch together, he did sit next to her during Spanish class so they could work on the conjugation exercise together. Sure, it hadn’t been the most romantic thing they could have done, but it was a start, right? But now she feels bothered that the extent of their communication today has been polite smiles and requests to pass whatever dish the other is closest to.

Deciding she’s had enough of this, she turns to him. “I’m really glad you’re here,” she whispers to him.

“It is the holidays, so...” he keeps his answer elusively.

She has to play it back in her mind to determine if there’s any underlying meaning behind it. Pushing around the remains of her pumpkin pie she speaks up again. “Are you still mad at me?”

He takes his time before answering, mulling over the words carefully. Yet, there’s no intelligible way to organize them to make it sound any better. “It’s not that simple.”

And that manages to stir something within her. “It’s either yes or no.”

“Y/n,” he warns, not wanting to cause a scene in front of their families. “Now’s just not the time to talk about it.”

She scoffs, shaking her head and willing herself not to cry. “It’s never the time with you.” And she excuses herself from the table.

***

Giving himself one last glance in the mirror, he wraps his hand around the copper knob. He takes a long breath as he prepares himself to rejoin everyone and pretend that he doesn’t wish he could be anywhere else today. For majority of the day, he had thought he’d moved on from the rejection. However, the more time he spends with her, the more those feelings regress him back to those open wounds. Despite how much he likes watching football with Jeremy and playing Connect Four with Mason, he can’t help but get distracted whenever she comes over and asks thoughtful questions about the game. And that distraction causes him to remember how difficult it’s been to keep up this charade.

When he opens the door, he’s immediately met with her figure looking up at him with doe-like eyes. His jaw clenches as he tries to ignore how the pout on her plump lips makes a part of him go a little crazy. What’s worse is that he shouldn’t feel this way, not right now at least. Not when he’s trying to stay mad for a little while longer.

“Please,” she starts off faintly, looking all too small as she stands before him. His expression softens only the smallest amount that she isn’t sure if maybe it was just a twitch. “Can we just talk?” She can see it in his eyes, the answer that’s about to roll off his tongue so blatantly obvious. And before he has a chance to decline, she latches onto his hand and starts to walk him towards the stairs. They’re careful not to draw attention to themselves as they practically tiptoe through the dining area where Anne and Olivia continue to share embarrassing stories from when both Harry and Y/n were much younger.

The grip she has on him while she leads him up the steps surprises him. Her soft hand squeezes his so tightly that his palms start to sweat from the sheer pressure (and maybe from a bubbling sense of nervousness that’s brewing inside). “Is this really necessary...” he hears himself muttering out loud, even though he’s expecting no answer in return. Although, he may have just felt just the smallest bit of added compression around his fingers as they round the corner.

Once they’re in her room, she’s sure to close the door this time around. If she’s learned anything from the numerous times they’ve been interrupted, it’s that one can never be too sure around her family –– or anyone really. She debates whether to take it all the way with caution, standing frozen as she stares down at the lock with hesitancy.

“Are you planning on keeping me hostage or something?” he chuckles lightly, plopping down on her bed, having already accepted his defeat. He combs his fingers through his hair a couple times before allowing himself the chance to relax.

She exhales fully and closes her eyes. “If that’s what it takes.” With the lock pinched securely between her fingers, the faintest sound erupts within the space. Click. “Then, yes.” Rotating on her heel, she presses her back up against the door, hand still loosely grasping the handle as she tilts her head back. She keeps her eyes low at first, but as seconds on the clock begin to outnumber them, she has no choice but to have them ascend.

He raises an eyebrow. “Well?”

“I’m so sorry, Harry,” she says shakily, whatever confidence she had absorbed seems to have fizzled out. But she can’t back down now, not when the opportunity is right in front of her. “I knew you were going to ask me, and I swear I was going to wait but then Jasper completely caught me off guard and then everyone was watching and I just...I just didn’t...I just didn’t think. It was stupid and I know that’s not an excuse, but I just want things to go back to normal.” She crosses her arms over her chest, a twinge of embarrassment filling her as her own words repeat through her ears.

He shifts uncomfortably. All the feelings he’d been trying to avoid are being unlocked, and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. It’s not even that he’s mad (he’s found it impossible to harvest any ill-feelings for the girl in front him), it’s more that he’s dreading whatever might come out of her mouth because he isn’t sure he can handle another rejection. “We don’t have to talk about it, really. We’re fine,” he says as neutrally as he can.

“No, Harry. We’re not. And you know it.”

He knows she’s right, no matter how much he wants to deny it for the sake of saving his own heart. But now that she’s locked him in, he has no choice but to confront the issue. “Look, whatever might have been between us, I’ll get over it, okay? I’ll be fine. I don’t want you to feel–”

“No!” she almost screams, and she marches right to where his knees bend off the side of the mattress with her lips pursed in a newfound determination. “That’s the complete opposite of what I want to happen.”

His green eyes are fixed on her. “What do you mean?” he whispers. But she shakes her head, as though regretting the words to come out of her mouth. Because now they implicate her of the thing she’s been dying to say, and there’s no coming back once it’s said.

Not even thinking, he places his hands on her waist to bring her closer. She still refuses to look at him, her arms further wrapping around her vulnerable self. There’s something in the way her bottom lip moves in the slightest matter that intrigues him. And now he just needs to know. “Hey, look at me,” and he gently cups her cheek to encourage her. “What?”

She stays quiet as she tries to get her breathing back to a normal pace, but the feeling of his stare causes a sweat to form down her back. “I don’t want you to be over us.”

With that, she finally looks forward.

It’s about time one of them be brave.

“I don’t want you to be over me,” she says in the most delicate manner. “I don’t want you to get over me because...” She uncrosses her arms, only to have them wrap around his neck as she settles between his open legs. “Because I don’t want to have to get over you.”

Their eyes meet, and she lets her forehead fall against his. The tips of their noses nudge against each other. A sigh of pure bliss fights its way out of him. He pulls her even closer, thumbs rubbing small circles into the plush of her hips. Her heart beats erratically, as does his as they bask in the echo of a declaration. Two pairs of lips pull up into benevolent smiles before finally coming together.

Eight letters.

There are eight letters to be remained unsaid (until another time).

***

#president!harry #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles drabble #harry styles drabbles #harry styles au #one direction #one direction imagine #one direction fanfiction #one direction fanfic #one direction preferences #writing

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militant-holy-knight · 5 years ago

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Castlevania Season 3 Review: Ellis is Gonna Ellis I Suppose.

Warning: Massive spoilers ahead because I don’t give a shit anymore so scroll down really fast if don’t want to get spoiled

Being a Castlevania fan is pure suffering, man. Not only is the video game franchise being put on ice by Konami at the time of writing, but your only form of enjoyment is a hit-or-miss Netflix Original written by a guy who admits never playing the games. I tried to enjoy the first season despite it being only four episodes long, and same thing with the second one which was longer but had a plethora of issues. Now it’s the third season, which took a year-long break to be made, and I am absolutely sorry to say it’s the absolute lowest point of the show: not only repeating the issues from the previous season, but amplifying them and failing to do anything interesting with anything new that is given. I will elaborate why I think so in this review.

So after Season 2, Dracula has been destroyed, our heroes have split up with Trevor and Sypha going their own way while Alucard has stayed behind in his father’s castle overlooking the Belmont Hold. Carmilla and Isaac have survived and are preparing to build an whole new army, the former to establish a new empire and the latter to get his revenge on her for betraying Dracula.

Even though the stakes are lower than the possible extinction of the human race which was the (possible) outcome from Season 2 which never actually came into fruition, you’d imagine they would do something inciting with this new status quo... But you’d be wrong. This season as a whole felt like padding in all conceivable manners. Not only was the pacing atrocious (which I will get into a minute), but really, nearly all of the events that occurred could have been omitted and the storyline as a whole wouldn’t have been affected somehow.

The pacing was the worst problem in Season 2 since you had the protagonists locked down inside a hold to do research on how to kill Dracula and endless exposition among the bad guys that some defenders call “vampire politics’ which ultimately went nowhere. The pacing in Season 3 is even worse since not only is it longer (10 episodes this time), you have more storylines now but each of them move at completely sluggish pace with a disproportional large amount of exposition and comparatively few action.

The Castlevania games were level-based games which had you visiting several distinct locations whether if it was inside or outside the castle. An adaptation series of Castlevania would make more sense if it was episodic in nature, perhaps even with monster of the week formula. It would have been better off for it, but the show is attempting channel Game of Thrones with an over-aching arc with sprawling individual storylines whose episodes are build up for an epic confrontation at the end, but it fails in that regard.

Trevor and Sypha’s storyline was absolutely pointless - they have no idea of the larger threat brewing with two demonic armies about to clash against each other, but they are stuck doing what basically amounts to a sidequest, investigating a evil cult operating in a small town which takes a needless long time to conclude. They completely fail in saving the townsfolk from being sacrificed and end up discovering that one of the characters that has been helping them is actually a monster all along. This only serves to make their effort completely pointless and leave the pair absolutely bitter and angry.

Not that there is any urgency in stopping Carmilla or Isaac since they come nowhere near close to trading blows to one another. In fact, Carmilla doesn’t come anywhere close to achieving her goal of raising an army of demons with Hector (who has been enslaved by her for this purpose) and it’s actually one of her lieutenants Lenore that solves this problem at the end. On the other hand, Isaac gets the closest thing to an highlight in this season by experiencing something of an character development since he is questioned by several characters that maybe humans aren’t so bad as a whole. The problem is that his development becomes inconclusive since he doesn’t learn to be anymore different than he used to.

Alucard gets sidelined like you wouldn’t believe. He spends the entire season in his castle now with two new characters, Japanese twin hunters that seek to be training so they can free their people from the vampires... Aaaaand they try to fuckin kill him, which comes out from nowhere specially after an extremely uncomfortable threesome between him and the twins. And just in case you thought the previous season was depressing enough with Alucard breaking down in tears completely alone in his castle, this one ends not only with Alucard still alone, crying, but now emulating his dad by leaving the impaled corpses of the twins in the castle’s entrance to scare off any trespassers which is the closing shot of this season.

But for me, the biggest letdown has to be Hector. He was one of my favorite characters from the games, having starred his own entry Curse of Darkness for the PS2 where he actually turns on Dracula on behalf of humanity and pursues Isaac for murdering his wife. Here, he does absolutely fuck all during the entire season except being bossed around by Carmilla’s sisters. The guy had such cool powers of summoning Innocent Devils and wielding all types of weapons (including a lightsaber) is reduced to a whimpering slave, whom I have absolutely no hope of seeing in his absolute glory. The worst part is that it was very predictable - the moment I saw Lenore saying that both her and Hector should flee together, I knew she was gonna screw him in some way. The irony is that unlike the other storylines which pull some kind of mean twist in the last second, here you already can tell what is going to happen next.

The new characters frankly do nothing for the story. The aforementioned Carmilla’s sisters are pure window-dressing and only Lenore gets the shit done by herself might I add completely independent from the others and specially Carmilla herself (who does nothing). A video game character actually does get featured - Comte of Saint-Germain, who is some kind of magician in search of his loved one who got lost in another dimension. Another step down from his video counterpart who is a time guardian that preserves the cosmic balance (though it seems they were channeling the historical figure rather than the character that happens to share the same name given their ignorance for the source material).

There are of course those typical Warren Ellis moments like three mentions of bestiality (and one goatfucking as usual) and anti-Christian commentary, though it seems to be sending some kind of mixed messages this time: in one hand Sypha comment that while she hates God, she at least admires Jesus because of his sacrifice which can be considered one of nicest things that atheists can comment about Christianity... And then the next episode features an demon that used to be a Greek philosopher who lived during post-Constantinian Roman Empire and was persecuted by Christians because of his intellect. Oh dear. With that said, it’s rather odd this guy became a demon so maybe he had it coming?

Overall, this season is a lot more weaker and lacking than Season 2, which at least had the climax in Episode 7 which some people were willing to forgive the dullness from that season. But Season 3′s climax is completely unfocused, interlaced with unnecessary and uncomfortable sex scenes and doesn’t even feature classical music from the games, which was the saving grace from the last time.

So did it have any upsides? I guess so if you look hard enough like Isaac’s schizophrenic “should I hate all humans or not” dillema which goes unresolved. Hardly anything that elevates the season or make it redeemable in some way. To be perfectly frank with you, I don’t know if I have any interest in keeping with this show. It blew away any good will Season 1 and 2 did, it barely moved the plot forward (and that if it has an overaching plot at all), the protagonists being disconnected to the main threat at large and quite frankly, none of the antagonists are as interesting as Dracula, I just don’t care what happens next. Specially if the pacing and exposition remain in place. In theory, if the series was restructured to be episodic instead of trying to be Game of Thrones, my interest in the show would have been renewed but it’s too little too late.

I guess in retrospect I should be grateful that Season 1 was so short had I knew later ones would be so tedious. There is so very little to do with Castlevania: Dracula’s Curse when you already got rid of the main villain and you don’t move the plot forward. If they want to regain my interest, do a Leon Belmont season that is episodic or heck anything else, but I don’t see them doing this because they have to give closure to this story arc, which already grew past it’s welcome and wasted everyone’s time with a season that amounted to nothing more than filler. Well, my patience has been worn thin.

#Castlevania #reviews

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stfreds-a · 5 years ago

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hello everyone! this is rylan (27, she/her, gmt+2) here to introduce you to the lil nugget of fucked up-itude that is freddie dawson! + more info, wanted connections. / @redridgeimp

name: fredericke ann dawson nicknames: freddie, fred, st. fred age: 33 ethnicity: white gender/pronouns: cis female, she/her sexual/romantic orientation: bisexual/biromantic been in red ridge for: five years occupation: bartender at st. peter’s affiliation: none positive traits: nurturing, clever, good spirited, humorous, wise, motherly, diligent, quiet, loyal, protective. negative traits: closed off, impulsive, proud, resentful, self-deprecating, bitter, frightened.

BIOGRAPHY —

(WARNINGS for depression, death, abuse / domestic abuse, violence, underage sex, prostitution, child abandonment).

“why’d you get so obsessed with that word, freddie? who told you about saints?” “grandpa did, he said he’s named after st. peter”. “and why do you care?” “‘cause he said saints do good things. i wanna be a saint, too”. “why on earth would you want that?” “‘cause, ma — i wanna save everyone”.

—

there’s a lifetime from that moment to now. she can remember it, but it comes in flashes, a hazy hue of desert gold — she remembers the girl she was, bright-eyed and restless, never shying away from the trail of a question. prying, relentless: the whole world could be simplified to reasons and whys, and she would hunt them the whole day long, out in the dust storms like the wind, not even it could dare question her spirits. whatever happened to that girl? dull, watered down: erased, and her own has been the hand rubbing her existence off her own life.

el paso, texas, 2002. she couldn’t tell how it happened, or when it began — surely that summer of eighteen years ago must have played its part. her mother losing her job (too tired, too tired all the time: too sad to see a doctor, too weak to even get out of bed anymore), bills piling up. her older sister trying hard to keep things afloat with an underpaid gig at the laundry, but it’s not enough. it’s never enough. one day grandpa comes home and he’s making math in his head, calculating how much longer they can survive if he sells the farm, the truck, the horse. that night freddie asks, how come their dad’s not around? he could provide, he could help them? grandpa grows colder then, gaze darker than the clouds gathering on the horizon: i’ll burn this place to the ground before he sets foot in here.

that side of the family, either way, is cunning and insidious, and it comes knocking at the door, offering business, a way to salvage the farm. it is victor, freddie’s uncle, who brings the offering: grandpa throws him out in spite, and freddie watches it all while she’s sitting on the fence outside, skin burning gold from the sun, dust sticking to her like glitter. you’re pretty, victor says: you might be your family’s only chance, you know? she doesn’t (can’t) understand, but she’ll walk any way that can save grandpa, his horse, her mother’s strength, her sister’s dreams of becoming a nurse.

turns out the way is a dark and winding one, one where she has to suck up the terror when a man touches her skin and she has to say yes, please, more, i’ll be anything you want, the key to unlocking all the dark and sick desires you’ve buried in there and can’t speak to anyone, not your wife, not your daughter, not your mother: give them to me, she whispers, let the darkness out. at night she takes hour-long showers to try and rub the darkness off of her, and it won’t come off, it never does — but grandpa didn’t have to sell the farm, and even if he was against her getting a job (said she’d be a waitress, don’t worry pops, i got it), the day he realized he wouldn’t have to sell the horse he smiled: it felt like the gates of heaven themselves would open.

she hates her job, but doesn’t mind the company. they make her work in a dismissed motel, along with girls about her age and her damage, and there is an unspoken bond of loyalty between them — the guys, too, when they’re guarding the doors they smile at them as fondly as they would their sisters (but they wouldn’t let their sisters in a place like this, no). there’s carl, who never speaks but smiles at fred each time he sees her. there’s billy, drives her home every night before victor can volunteer. there’s sonja, who teaches her how to punch a man’s throat when he gets too handsy. there’s a sense of family, while her own begins unraveling around the suspicion that something dark is going on.

el paso, texas, 2005. the farm is saved, but mom’s not getting any better. depression sucks her up, little by little, and she drifts away more or less peacefully, doesn’t dare oppose resistance — she dies a morning of october, and neither of her daughters can speak of it. grandpa has to put down the horse a week later. she’d thought she’d saved everyone —— how come the darkness still won’t leave?

she grows sadder, dark as the clouds that won’t seem to leave their town alone. she finds an unexpected shoulder to cry on in the person of johnny, billy’s cousin and yet another one of victor’s men: johnny’s sweet, he makes her laugh. he begins driving her home at night instead of billy (his cousin’s not happy, she can see this: but he nods his agreement anyway and doesn’t protest, he can’t, johnny’s older and wiser and he’s still just a kid). the rest of it is as old and predictable as it gets: he says he’ll make an honest woman out of her, she retorts there needs to be an honest man for that to happen to begin with. they laugh, they kiss, they promise — five years later, she’s twenty-five and married, almost happy. almost.

el paso, texas, 2006. she wants to leave her job. johnny said he can’t stand the thought of someone touching her where he should, and she tries: but victor won’t have it, no, did you think it was a temporary gig? come on girl, you’re smarter than that. he’s filthy, he humiliates her — beats her just to prove he can, he owns her. she comes home with bruises and johnny’s angry: if you couldn’t quit, he says, it’s because you didn’t really want t. his bruises are added to victor’s, perfectly symmetrical blooms to decorate her skin. she begins cracking, her very essence tearing at the seams — she was trying so hard to save everyone, how the fuck is she gonna save herself now?

billy comes over sometimes. his commitments to what he likes to call “street things” keep him out of the motel now, but he needs to check on her — she makes up excuses to keep away, hide the signs. says she’s got a bad cold one day, the other she’s just not feeling. one day he’s got enough and forces her to open the door: a busted lip, both her eyes grown purple with the blows. his anger is scalding hot but she manages to calm him down — it’s okay, she says, he just gets angry sometimes. i’ll find a way out of it somehow. he leaves in a hurry, never shows up again: the unspoken fear in her mind, that he’s gone and done something terrible he’ll regret, almost brings a relief to her sore mind. perhaps he’s killed him, she thinks. perhaps i’m free.

johnny comes back and it’s business as usual. she tells herself she’s gotta be strong, gotta leave this town, gotta make it out alive. she packs a bag and leaves it hidden under the bed, but when she looks at the door she sees the world with johnny’s face, ready to eat her up, chew her out, over and over. it’s the day police comes knocking at her door that the world drags her out — in the person of detective jake graham, investigating the disappearance of william ‘billy’ dickinson — part of a much bigger investigation, that sooner leads to the arrest of victor rosce and most of his men (johnny included). she’s on her own: and when the detective figures out she needs help, he makes the way for a new life in red ridge, nevada. beaten, broken, ashamed, she says goodbye to texas; to freddie dickinson; to the comfortable shelter of her fear.

red ridge, nevada, 2015. red ridge ain’t much of an afterlife, but it works. they take her to a women’s shelter and bit by bit she puts her pieces back together. badly held in place, like a broken teacup taped back together — but it works. azul, the director of the shelter, turns out to be the family she’s missing — she finds a sense of home in the shelter, a new purpose behind the counter of st. peter’s, serving drinks for those who are heading for a fight at rogues’. like a gatekeeper, like st. peter himself: such a stark contrast from the hell she just left.

heaven is short-lived, and hell comes knocking back at the door. it appears in the shape of two parallel lines on a pregnancy test: johnny’s seed, rooted in her womb, giving way to evil like himself. she wants to throw up, hopes somehow that’ll rid her of this curse — her vision blinded, her ears are ringing. in fear, she turns to the only place she knows can provide comfort, or advice, or any sort of guidance while she has no fucking clue how to fix this: back home, to her sister.

el paso, texas, 2016. grandpa’s dying, angie says. old age catching up to him, so all he does is lie in his bed all day and ask for movies to be played continuously on his tv. it’s an odd family they recreate now, the nurse, the dying man and the pregnant sister. there is a soft, mournful balance found, until one night victor shows up demanding to see her and when angie claims freddie isn’t there he has his men beat her grandpa, thrash the house just to get the point across: he can. he owns her.

she sits by her grandpa’s deathbed that night and weeps. i’m sorry, pops, i’m so sorry: i tried so hard to be a saint, to save everyone. perhaps he’s just exhaling, but it sounds like he’s laughing. child, he says, saints always die either virgins or martyrs. you fucked up the first — now you just gotta pray you’re good enough for the latter.

somewhere between texas and nevada, 2016. grandpa dies two weeks later, and freddie’s not there. right after victor’s visit, angie gave her money just to get her away from them, and bring her trouble with her — grandpa dies a week before her baby’s born, taken out of her and delivered into a nurse’s hands without so much as a goodbye. they ask, would you like to see your baby? freddie turns and pretends she didn’t hear. wherever the baby will end up, it’s gotta be a better fate than the child of a martyr.

red ridge, nevada, 2017. red ridge felt like a home. for a hot second, it felt like things could start over again. she ends up in it again — in the thick of a burning town, trying to make her way through people that do not belong to her, desperately looking for something to hold on to. a year has passed since she last set foot in town, but st. peter’s has been waiting for her; the same arrangement of unfinished business, too. little by little, in red ridge, she begins putting herself back together.

CURRENTLY fred is a bartender at st. peter’s, occasionally lends a hand to azul evangelista for the women’s shelter, is in a committed relationship with detective jake graham. her uncle, her husband and most of their gang are in jail after the investigation jake led back in 2015. she hasn’t heard from her sister ever since leaving el paso. her baby was given up for adoption and she never learned anything more about them — nor does she plan to.

#mine's a humble light — file.#intro.#redridgeintro #♥

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skeletonmermaidlife · 6 years ago

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Poignant

A fic by me and @wase-line

Read on AO3

Chapter 1 : Sous La Pluie

The reporter's voice filled the ears of those who listened. They were horrified‚ yet curious as she said "There are other superheroes who are currently fighting Hawkmoth!"

The camera showed two different heroes instead of Ladybug and Chat Noir. One in an unfamiliar red suit and the other one in a green-blue costume. Alya's eyes widened‚ recognizing the latter. "Viperion." She said blankly. The citizens barely saw those two. Alya had no idea who was the one in red‚ but she knew Viperion from her sightings and the pictures she had in her phone. Though she couldn't recall when she took a picture of him. And it was blurry.

"Where are Ladybug and Chat Noir?" she muttered as she started to think of the worst. Even if the superheroes kept the city safe for years‚ there was no guarantee that they would win every day. On top of that‚ she knew Nino also went to the battle. He was nowhere to be seen. Where was he? Where were Ladybug and Chat Noir?

"Ryuko‚ from the left!" Viperion shouted so the other could hear.

So her name was Ryuko.

A few seconds of intense fight happened before the citizens' eyes‚ no one was really able to predict what was going on. Ryuko was as fast as lightning and Viperion moved around so quickly.

The camera suddenly went blank for a moment. Those were probably the longest moments of Alya's life. What was happening? Where was Nino? Where were the superheroes Paris had grown fond of? The journalist was still talking but she wasn't listening anymore, the only sound she could hear was the one of her heart violently pounding in her ribcage. The image was back as fast as it was gone and a sound of relief was heard from Alya‚ looking at the scenery displayed on the screen.

Viperion was now in front of Hawkmoth, while Ryuko was by his side‚ retrieving the butterfly miraculous. What was left of the detransformation was a girl. She was probably their age‚ Alya guessed while watching the screen. She was covering her face‚ sobbing loudly.

"Medics in the helicopter are going down to help the girl and the superheroes."

The camera was now closer to them. Citizens could see the faces of the not-so-famed superheroes. But the longer Alya inspected‚ the more familiar that girl looked. Even if her face was blurred.

"Chat Noir and Ladybug had an emergency‚" Viperion said and added "we have to go. Stay safe‚ Parisians!" as he ran to catch up with Ryuko.

After the girl on the roof‚ with her first aid done‚ was taken to the helicopter with the others; the news took an advertisement break.

~~~

Kagami‚ currently Ryuko‚ remembered the girl. Lila Rossi. She remembered getting akumatized once‚ because of a picture involving her and Adrien.

No matter how much she despised her‚ it still made her sad to hear those desperate sobs. Her outfit wasn't presentable in any way. Her face‚ as much as she could see from the uncovered places‚ was full of bruises. There were some wounds and scratches on her arms. But she still wanted to cut out that few seconds of her life when she thought Lila could be a better person.

And since she was defeated‚ it meant that there was no Hawkmoth to trouble Ladybug and Chat Noir anymore.

Her eyes widened in horror. Ladybug and Chat Noir. They left them in that place when they told her and Viperion to go after the villain. She tapped on the other superhero's shoulder‚ "Viperion. We need to go back to Ladybug and Chat Noir."

The sharp tip of her sword faced down as she jumped away from the top of the building they defeated the villain on. She heard him say a few words to the reporter‚ before running to catch up with her.

"Do you remember where they were?" Viperion asked her as he jumped and flipped over a group of stacked up barrels.

"On the northwest." She replied‚ her voice cracking.

That didn't go unnoticed by Viperion. He would ask her about it but there was another urgency.

Their hearts were beating loudly in their chests‚ lost in the melody of the rain. The bug and cat were in no good condition when they last saw them. They didn't want to leave‚ but Ladybug forced them to‚ telling them that they'll be fine. Ryuko‚ who was an obedient ally‚ had also convinced Viperion. He was also afraid of what might be waiting for them.

She saw it. The dragon superheroine's eyes widened even more if that was possible. W-were they..?

"Viperion!" She called the other as she landed on the roof of the building she saw them on.

A woman and a man‚ with their hands touching aand facing each others.

Viperion's breath hitched. Their clothing looked familiar. There was only one detail that terrified him more than he already was. Pink jeans.

He did not know of too many people who wore pink jeans‚ except...

No.

His mind was getting loaded with things that would only appear in his nightmares. Unintentional. Unpleasant. Deep down from his subconscious. Surfacing without restraint.

He walked closer to the woman's body. Internally wincing at the sight of her bruised limbs and the blood pooling around her torso‚ which was now mixed with the rainwater. Her pulse was none as he checked it. His heart started to beat faster as he looked at the face covered with messy black locks. So familiar. No. He had to check. He must be seeing things.

With one shaky hand‚ he lifted the wet bangs out of her face. A brief sight was more than enough for his heart to drop.

He couldn't utter a word. He couldn't stop his hand from shaking. They weren't here when the other two arrived. His eyes diverted to his miraculous‚ his bracelet with the power of second chance. If only they could figure out the trap sooner... Viperion could've formed a loop longer than 5 minutes unlike his younger self. He could've saved them. He could've saved Marinette.

"My fault." He whispered. It was barely audible.

He knew he was thinking nonsense. He knew he was blaming himself for something he barely had any control over. But right now, logic didn't seem likely to him as the adrenaline in his body had reached its peak. He had seen something that he wouldn't be able to forget his entire life; the colorless, cold face and the lifeless body of the woman he loved so deeply. Her face was also full of bruises. A few scratches. And she had a busted lip.

He had never felt this much hatred and grief. He never wanted to kill someone this bad. He felt guilty for not thinking of this until someone he loved took real damage. He discarded his thoughts of Hawkmoth being redeemable.

He lifted his head to see Ryuko staring at the blond man, whose head was help up from behind by her right hand. Her lips were parted‚ as if she wanted to tell him something. His locks were away from his face. It shocked him to see another familiar face. He was Adrien.

The person who played the org.

The person whose heart danced on the black and white tiles.

But now‚ he was the man whose melody had been silenced forever.

The superheroine said nothing. She just lifted her head a little and Viperion was now able to see the devastated look on her face. It was enough for him to understand. That Adrien was important to her the way Marinette was important to him.

~~~

The two superheroes stood somewhere far from the hospital they just left Adrien and Marinette in. They holding on that little hope that maybe, maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe they both could still be saved. But there wasn't much they could do on their own. So they were here‚ just sitting on the ground‚ unsure what to do next.

"What are we going to do now?" Ryuko asked‚ her voice low. "Will Ladybug show up? "

"No idea. But I think we'll have to be extra careful with our miraculouses."

Beep.

"Speaking of which..." He said as he looked at Ryuko's choker. "You have to go. You would not want to reveal your identity."

Ryuko answered him after an unintentional‚ pained smile. "My identity? It was already known by Hawkmoth. It doesn't matter anymore." she said‚ which shocked him. She looked down at the Butterfly brooch in her hand. The villain had been defeated, secret identities were not needed anymore. She sighted. Super heroes were needed anymore either.

"Did I hear wrong or are you telling me that detransforming in front of me is no problem for you?"

"Maybe."

A few minutes passed by. They were just thinking of all the things that happened today‚ in the borders of their own perspectives. Neither of them spoke as the silence was too heavy to break through. But the more time passed‚ the heavier their hearts felt inside their chests. The feeling of betrayal was featherweight alongside the grief that weighed as heavy as lead. They could do nothing but breathe as they felt numb‚ the world around them feeling unreal.

"Sorry." Viperion said as he stood up‚ "I need to go. I have something important to do."

"Might as well as have said 'I do not want a reveal'."

He turned his head to look back at her. "No offense‚ Ryuko." And he jumped to the building on their right‚ running to a direction the superheroine didn't care about.

She was alone now. She stared to what was in front of her‚ to a view she also didn't care about. It would not take long for her to detransform and feed her kwami. Those things weren't what she was concerned about. She just had no idea what to do from now on. What should she do? How would she carry on?

~~~

The raven haired girl was on the floor‚ unable to move her limbs. Rain continued to wash over her clothes‚ her hair and her wounded skin. In her mind‚ she was having a brief summary of how her life had been for the past few months. Cold‚ lonely and stagnant.

Her dull eyes looked at the body that laid not so faraway from her. To the mess of blond hair‚ to the wet and stained clothes. She knew those eyes. Those emerald green eyes that no longer shined the way they used to. Those eyes she fell in love with. She smiled in pain. Her breath was still hitching‚ knowing that she was bleeding.

"Adrien?"

His gaze found hers.

He had no idea. He had no idea how she was still smiling. His face failed to express what he felt‚ because he also didn't know how he felt. The reveal didn't surprise him as much as he thought it would. He even made a mental note for himself to talk about this after the battle. Only‚ there was no 'after the battle' for them.

"It was you." His breath hitched.

"And it was you." She whispered.

It was raining. Again. Just like that day.

"Mari..." he muttered as breathing became a harder task. "We have to get up."

He felt something. It all happened too quick. He looked at the small amount of blood on the floor he just coughed. He tried to inhale deeply‚ his voice hoarse. He scrunched his face as he attempted to lift his body with the strength of his lower arms‚ which was supposed to help him get up. "We have to get up‚ Marinette."

They were practically deaf to their kwamis' voices.

"I'm afraid..." she started‚ "I can't get up‚ Kitty."

"Please. Ladybug." he said as his bruised hand formed into a fist.

"A fist huh?" she smiled again. "Pound it..?"

Adrien felt some sort of emptiness in his chest. His head felt light. He felt funny‚ must've been from the blood loss and some breathing difficulties. He had to say it. It was now or never. He couldn't let her go before she knew how he felt. He used up almost all of his strength to crawl to her side.

"I fell in love with you on a rainy day like this." she suddenly said.

He could only go as far as his body would let him. But he got a bit closer to her. At least now he could hold her hand.

"I've always loved you." His eyelids fell midway as his remaining strength gradually dissolved into pieces. He neither had the strength nor the time to tell her all he wanted her to know."You're Marinette. And you're Ladybug. I love you."

Their hands were not intertwined‚ but their fingers could reach to each other's palms. "I love you too. Adrien. Chat. Two of the bravest people I ha-" Her sentence was cut midway due to a sharp pain in her abdomen that made her wince.

Adrien smiled, his eyes still closed. "I told you I would always be by your side‚ Bugaboo."

Marinette no longer had the mental strength she used to have. Tears flowed out of her eyes‚ as fast as a river would run. "I told you to not call me Bugaboo."

#MLB #mlb fandom #mlb fanfic #MIRACULOUS LADYBUG FANDOM #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #adrienette #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #luka couffaine #kagami tsuguri #tikki and plagg #we are so sorry #really #battle against hawkmoth #hawkmoth #lila rossi #alya cesaire

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brokehorrorfan · 5 years ago

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Blu-ray Review: Amityville: The Cursed Collection

After the original trilogy, The Amityville Horror's storyline had run its course, as had its theatrical viability. The 1979 original is an iconic adaptation of Jay Anson’s allegedly true book. 1982's Amityville II: The Possession is a successful prequel that shows the murders that led to the house being haunted. 1983's Amityville 3-D rested its laurels on the 3D gimmick for a largely dull entry.

This would spell the end for most franchises (at least until the remake boom), but once the home video industry blossomed, the marketable title was revived for a spate of direct-to-video sequels. While the initial source material had been tapped, four of these later efforts borrowed a concept from John G. Jones' 1988 short story collection, Amityville: The Evil Escapes, in which cursed objects from the original house find their way into unsuspecting peoples' lives.

Vinegar Syndrome has collected the pseudo-quadrilogy of 1989's Amityville: The Evil Escapes, 1992's Amityville: It’s About Time, 1993's Amityville: A New Generation, and 1996's Amityville Dollhouse - the fourth, sixth, seventh, and eighth installments in the franchise, respectively - in a Blu-ray box set dubbed Amityville: The Cursed Collection. (The absent fifth entry, 1990's The Amityville Curse, is an unrelated Canadian production that remains out of print due to rights issues.)

Amityville: The Evil Escapes was made for television but features decent production value, including a strong opening with a rain storm and a fairly convincing facade of the original Amityville house at 112 Ocean Avenue. The Amityville Horror screenwriter Sandor Stern returned to write and direct the followup. While having one of the original creative forces at the helm is a good omen, his effort is light on scares.

The film follows Nancy Evans (Patty Duke, Valley of the Dolls) and her three children. The untimely death of Nancy's husband has put a financial burden on the family, forcing them to move to rural California to live with her mother, Alice (Jane Wyatt, Star Trek), who recently received an antique lamp from the Amityville house. The 300-year-old evil is attached to the lamp and then transmigrates to the most vulnerable person in the house: the grieving youngest child, Jessica (Brandy Gold), who communicates with her late father.

The familial melodrama is akin to a Lifetime movie, while a series of strange occurrences in the house causes further tension between its inhabitants. Naturally, the cursed lamp lights up whenever something happens. The ridiculous plot lends itself to a few entertaining set pieces, including a possessed chainsaw and a garbage disposal gone wrong. The gore in the latter scene was absent from the TV broadcast but was added for the home video release and remains intact on Blu-ray.

Duke is probably a little too old for her role, but she's good in it. The kids don't fare as well, but what's asked of them is fairly minimal. The cast also includes Fredric Lehne (Supernatural) and Norman Lloyd (Saboteur) as a pair of priests from Amityville, Aron Eisenberg (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine) as Nancy's son, and Peggy McCay (Days of Our Lives) as Alice's sister, who sets the story into motion by gifting her the lamp.

Amityville: The Evil Escapes's Blu-ray disc includes new interviews with Stern and cinematographer Tom Richmond (House of 1000 Corpses, Chopping Mall). Stern's conversation is an informative one, but the most interesting fact is that he had no idea more sequels were made after this one. Richmond details how he felt more like the lighting manager than the director of photographer, as Stern was more experienced and knew what he wanted.

Amityville: It’s About Time is directed by Tony Randel (Hellbound: Hellraiser II) and written by Christopher DeFaria (who went on to executive produce the likes of Mad Max: Fury Road, Gravity, and Ready Player One) and Antonio Toro. Its subtitle is not just a clever clock pun; the movie deals with time in rather interesting, if sometimes nonsensical, ways - including time shifts. The name also works in a metaphorical sense, as the core of the picture is about a character struggling to break the cycle of making the same mistakes.

In the film, the Amityville house has been torn down and replaced with a new development, but architect Jacob Sterling (Stephen Macht, The Monster Squad) helped himself to a antique clock. He brings it home to suburban California, where his ex-girlfriend, Andrea (Shawn Weatherly, Police Academy 3: Back in Training), is watching his two teenage kids, Rusty (Damon Martin, Ghoulies II) and Lisa (Megan Ward, Encino Man). The clock physically roots itself into their home and begins controlling the family members.

Rusty - who's depicted as a "troubled" kid in a very '90s way, complete with black clothing, an earring, and heavy metal music - recognizes that there is an evil presence, but everyone else blames him for the weird happenings in the neighborhood. While he's at the center of it, the plot successfully integrates the entire household, unlike the previous film, and the complicated family dynamic is a welcome shakeup of the formula.

Playing more like an ensemble than any other Amityville, each cast member is able to pull their own weight. Macht's role is fairly thankless, as a dog attack leaves him in failing health, but he fully commits. Jonathan Penner (Survivor) gives a charismatic performance as Andrea's pretentious psychologist boyfriend, and Nita Talbot (Hogan's Heroes), Terrie Snell (Home Alone), and Dick Miller (Gremlins) are among the neighbors who pop up.

If not for the tenuous connection to the Amityville Horror franchise, I suspect this picture might have more of a cult following. (It's easier for word-of-mouth to spread about a lone gem than the sixth entry in a direct-to-video franchise.) The most entertaining film in the set, It's About Time is a charming, if unspectacular, B-movie with a delightfully silly plot and several fun moments featuring special effects by KNB EFX Group (From Dusk Till Dawn, Scream), the most memorable of which sees a character melting into the floor.

Amityville: It’s About Time's Blu-ray disc includes new interviews with Randel and DeFaria. Randel seems to relish the opportunity to discuss the film, as he says no one ever asks about it, and praises the cast and crew. DeFaria explains that he offered to write the film as a way to get his foot in the door as a producer - which, looking at his post-Amityville resume, seems to have worked out for him.

Amityville: A New Generation eschews the franchise's traditional, suburban family dynamic in favor of a metaphorical one; a community of artists living in an urban loft co-opt. It focuses on Keyes Terry (Ross Partridge, Stranger Things), a struggling photographer who's struck with inspiration when a homeless man gives him an ornate mirror that has been in his family for generations. The mirror predicts the death of its first victim, which would be an interesting enough concept, but alas it is not consistent. Ultimately, the possessed object tempts Keyes to commit murder.

The film boasts a powerful supporting cast that includes David Naughton (An American Werewolf in London) as the landlord, Terry O'Quinn (Lost) as a detective, Richard Roundtree (Shaft) as one of the artists, Robert Rusler (A Nightmare on Elm Street 2: Freddy's Revenge) as a disgruntled ex-boyfriend, and a particularly charming Lin Shaye (Insidious) as a mental hospital nurse. Although the cast elevates the material, the script - penned by a returning DeFaria and Toro - remains lackluster.

While the previous entries did an admirable job to overcome their limited resources, A New Generation looks and feels very much like a '90s direct-to-video movie; THE of the same caliber as the endless Children of the Corn, Hellraiser, and The Prophecy sequels that were being churned out around the same time. Despite a direct connection to the Amityville mythology beyond the mirror, it hardly even feels like an Amityville movie.

Directed by John Murlowski (Santa with Muscles) made the inspired choice to hire The Amityville Horror visual effects artist William Cruse to handle the elaborate mirror effects. They're all accomplished in camera; an impressive feat that sounds great in theory but looks campy in practice. The film also features cinematography by future Academy Award winner Wally Pfister (Inception, The Dark Knight).

Amityville: A New Generation's disc includes new interviews with Murlowski and DeFari, plus a commentary by Murlowski. Murlowski's chat includes a breakdown of the analog effects, supplemented by behind-the-scenes footage. His commentary allows him to go more in depth, citing The Shining as an inspiration, pointing out the similarities to Oculus, and addressing shortcomings such as the pacing and the rubber monster. DeFari discusses the challenges of channeling artists' fears on screen and offers advice for aspiring filmmakers.

Amityville Dollhouse is perhaps the most traditional of the bunch in terms of concept, though its execution goes in a different direction. In it, a newly blended family moves into a house that the contractor father, Bill Martin (Robin Thomas, Summer School), built on the original Amityville lot. Bill finds an old dollhouse - a miniature model of the Amityville abode, naturally - and gives it to his young daughter. While the girl ostensibly releases the evil, the strange occurrences begin before she receives the gift.

The eerie events start small but escalate to the point where the family's younger boy sees his deceased father, urging him to murder his family. The father appears in three stages of decay, a la Jack in An American Werewolf in London. His ultimate form is something like a cross between Tales from the Crypt's Crypt Keeper and Friday the 13th Part VII's Jason Voorhees, but he's too loquacious to be scary, delivering a few Freddy Krueger-esque quips.

While the deceased father feels a bit out of place in an Amityville movie, he is the highlight of the film, thanks to exceptional makeup by SOTA Effects' Roy Knyrim (The Toxic Avenger Part II & III). Also notable is an appearance by a young Lisa Robin Kelly (That '70s Show). The film marks the lone directorial effort of Steve White, who executive produced all four films in the set, along with The Devil’s Advocate and Halloweentown. Joshua Michael Stern (director of Jobs) penned the script.

Amityville Dollhouse's disc includes new interviews with White, Knyrim, and director of photography Thomas L. Callaway (Feast, Slumber Party Massacre II), along with alternate footage from the TV edit. White, having produced the prior three films, offers an interesting perspective. Knyrim discusses the progression of the dead father's makeup and how existing creature parts were repurposed for demons in the climax. Callaway breaks down a few interesting techniques, like a 360-degree shot with a periscope lens and the challenges of lighting a character covered in latex.

The perfect companion to Scream Factory's The Amityville Horror Trilogy set, Amityville: The Cursed Collection is available exclusively from Vinegar Syndrome. It's not as loaded with extras as some of the company's releases (there's no input from any cast members and only one commentary), but each movie offers at least a couple of new interviews. All four films have been newly restored in 4K from their 35mm original camera negatives, so they look better than they ever have. Each disc is in its own Blu-ray case with reversible artwork, all packaged in a slipcase box designed by Earl Kessler Jr., which is limited to 4,000.

Amityville: The Cursed Collection is available now from Vinegar Syndrome.

#the amityville horror #amityville horror #amityville #amityville: it's about time #vinegar syndrome #amityville: the evil escapes #amityville: a new generation #review #article #dvd #gift #lin shaye #david naughton #terry o'quinn #dick miller #patty duke #richard roundtree #robert rusler #stephen macht

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jamkookies · 6 years ago

Text

° Bon Voyage °

• Part IX •

The way you are

There was a fine line between being dead and unconscious, but somehow, the resemblance between the two was uncanny.

Your body felt like it was floating, unable to sense its surroundings.

It was like one of those nightmares where you felt like you'd been paralyzed, your lethargic limbs useless by your sides.

Still, you knew you weren't dead.

You weren't sure how.

You just knew.

You were encased in darkness but you could still feel things happening around you, the sounds muffled as if you were underwater.

A rushing stream.

Roaring in your ears.

It came and went, making you consider if it was actually happening or just a mere memory.

Then, you can feel multiple things digging on your back, the uncomfortable feeling making you want to squirm.

A fresh new pain blossoms into your shoulder, agonizingly spreading through your whole body.

You are drowning again, the water filling up your lungs -

You violently explode into a fit of coughing, the water out of your system after a series of retching.

You can breathe again.

Slowly peeling your eyes open, you are almost blinded by the bright sunlight falling directly into your face.

Then, something shields you from it, the sharp outline of a head hovering in your line of sight.

"Oh, thank God." you hear the head say.

It's hard for you to make out the features first, but then as your eyes get used to the light, you recognize the doe eyes, the thin upper lip and the curly hair, which is now wet to the roots, dripping onto your face.

Jungkook.

He's alive.

"Hyung..." you croak, but manage no more than that.

Even breathing was a struggle, your throat burning every time the air scraped its insides.

Jungkook looks no better, his hair sticking to his forehead, a pained expression on his face.

You slowly flick your eyes from side to side, trying to understand where exactly you where.

A flash of green leaves, a patch of blue sky, whiteness under you.

So, that's what had been digging on your back.

Rocks and pebbles.

The creek continues its flow just a little further, the stream seeming to have washed you on the bank along with Jungkook.

Your lids start to close on themselves.

Heavy.

"No no no no. Don't die on me, Y/N."

You feel a hand cradling your cheeks, slightly shaking it in an attempt to wake you up.

So heavy.

Sounds of engines are approaching, their echoes loud despite the fact that your hearing was slightly impaired.

Speeding steps on the pebbles.

So so heavy.

You feel yourself being carried and the hand on your cheek disappears.

You fall into the pure bliss of nothingness.

* * *

Beep beep beep.

You open your eyes to a patient monitor, its screen showing a green line moving rhythmically up and down.

A grunt escapes your lips as you try to lift your upper body.

The agonizing pain on your shoulder had subsided into a dull ache, but it was still there.

You look at the thick bandages wrapped around your shoulder and notice a rosy hue on their center, proof of the blood that you had spilled.

Multiple tubes and straps protrude from your arms, trickling a clear liquid into your veins and you tug at them, suddenly feeling restrained.

Someone sitting on a nearby chair snaps awake, their head, hanging on their chest, now alert.

Manager Sejin smiles at you.

"Y/N-ssi, how are you feeling?"

You fail to return the smile.

There were so many things going on in your head right now, you couldn't even think straight.

"I'm alright." you say, eyes still scanning the room you were in. "Where's Jungkook-hyung?"

His eyes lower onto the ground, hands nervously fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

Your heart rate speeds up and the monitor's beeping becomes faster.

"Where is Jungkook-hyung?" you repeat with a clear, almost angry emphasis on each word.

"He's okay, don't worry. He is having his wound treated, that's all."

Your sudden rush of panic quiets down a little, but you just can't feel relaxed without actually seeing him with your own eyes.

"Look, I know a lot of terrible things happened to the both of you, I really do.

So, we're first gonna make sure you are completely healed and then we'll figure out what to do next, okay?"

You nod.

He smiles at you one more time before making his way out of the room.

Not a moment after, the boys come waltzing in with bright and cheerful expressions.

Jin is the first one to reach your side, relief and worry written all over his face.

"Are you alright?"

Jimin and Taehyung soon join him, the latter snaking his arms around you and hugging you tight.

"Y/N-ssi!" Taehyung wails. "I thought you were gonna die!"

"Ow ow ow-"

"Careful, you idiot! You're hurting her shoulder." Jimin grips him by the shirt and pulls him backwards.

"We were really worried, Y/N." Yoongi says.

"Yeah, I almost lost my mind when you and Jungkook went missing." adds Hoseok.

"I'm perfectly fine." you say with a wave of your hand.

Namjoon eyes you suspiciously and you can feel his pupils poking holes into your shoulder.

"What happened?"

You pause momentarily, not knowing how to put it into words but Yoongi has your back.

"We'll have plenty of time for that later. We should let her relax."

Namjoon nods absently, still deeply absorbed into looking at you.

"Is Jungkook-hyung alright?" you ask again, failing to let the issue drop.

"Yeah, he's fine. His leg is just sore."

His eyes move frantically left and right and you can't shake off the nagging thoughts taking hold of you.

Something was wrong.

They were hiding something from you, you were sure of it.

"You should rest." Jin says and rubs the back of your hand affectionately.

You can't help but smile.

No matter what had happened,they were here for you, ready to comfort you, make you feel better, be your emotional support.

They were your family and you were proud of it.

* * *

You had desperately tried to fall asleep but to no avail.

Your mind kept wandering off to all sorts of places.

Reminiscing about the old times, reenacting the most recent adventures, wondering what exactly were the boys keeping from you...

A slight creaking noise brings you back to earth.

You turn towards it and almost squeak in delight upon seeing Jungkook's head pop on the door.

With a smile blooming on your face, you try to stand in a sitting position but only slump back into the pillows when you realize what you're seeing.

The door swings wide open and Jungkook enters.

Sitting on a wheelchair.

No no no no no no

A sudden pain on your chest overpowers the one on your shoulder and it's worse than everything you've ever experienced.

As he puts the wheels moving, you start hyperventilating.

Not again.

Panic, panic all over you, raw and merciless.

His smile falters when he realizes what's going on.

"Y/N...?"

"This is all my fault..." You let your head fall into your hands and burst into tears, unable to hold it in anymore, but to your astonishment, he rises from the chair and sits on the side of the bed.

"Y/N, I'm perfectly fine." he says and removes your hands from your face, making you look at him.

With your eyes full of tears and relief flooding through you, you throw your arms around him, clinging for dear life.

You realize you're ugly sobbing but you can't seem to stop the wails that come in waves, desperate to be unleashed.

"I thought you couldn't walk anymore."

The black haired boy strokes your back in slow circles, trying to calm you down.

"Of course I can. They just gave me the wheelchair so I would not get tired."

"Do you and Jimin plan to scare the hell out of me?"

"What?"

"N-never mind." You answer, the crying making it hard for you to talk.

When he tries to pull away you just squeeze him harder, ignoring the pain on your shoulder and refusing to let go.

He lets out a low chuckle and lifts his legs onto the bed, hands still attached to the small of your back.

You both lay into each other's arms, your head leaning on his shoulder, and you finally feel at peace, even for just a moment.

"I"m sorry" you hear him say. "Everything that happened is my fault."

"No."

"I'm the one who offered to sneak off in the middle of the night."

"And I'm the one who happily complied."

"We shouldn't have avoided the bodyguards."

"How could you have predicted what would happen?"

"I should have made sure you were safe."

You were starting to get angry. You scrunch his shirt under your fists.

"You took a bullet for me." you say. "I've been doing nothing but getting into trouble and ruining the show since day one."

"You think anyone cares? We love you just the way you are. I love you just the way you are."

"That's not the only thing that matters, hyung."

"I don't want you to call me hyung anymore."

"Then what should I call you?"

You're testing out the waters.

"Whatever you want. Just not that. I don't want you to see me as a brother."

"But isn't that how it's supposed to be?"

"No. It's not."

His face comes closer to yours.

You realize he's looking at your lips.

With curls falling into his eyes, he inches closer and closer.

His breath tickles your nose as he lowers his lips, ready to close the distance.

Two inches.

One inch.

The door flies open and Manager Sejin comes inside.

You both pull away from each other as if you'd been electrocuted.

"Sorry for barging in." he says, almost spitting the words. "But Jungkook needs to have his wound checked."

Jungkook peels his eyes away from you and takes a look at him.

"I'll be there in ten minutes, Manager-nim." he says and you could've sworn there was a hint of annoyance.

Sejin nods and leaves the room but not without seizing you up with cold eyes first.

"So, could you tell me what exactly happened while I was unconscious?" you say, and cough loudly, trying to shake off the flustered state you had been in a few moments ago.

"Well, after falling into the creek, you blacked out. I tried to keep you afloat without hurting your shoulder, but the stream was really strong. I almost lost hold of you a couple of times. We both swallowed a gallon of water, that's for sure." He smiles. "We washed into the bank and that's where you coughed out all the water."

His eyes avoid you now, frantically flicking from side to side.

"Then the staff came to rescue us along with the emergency cars. It turns out that the sasaeng girl had told them our location when she saw that we jumped into the water. She was probably scared I was gonna die."

"Did they catch her?"

"No. She escaped."

You look at him carefully and notice that something's off.

"There's something you're not telling me."

He gulps.

"Jungkook."

"Yeah. Something did happen."

You're starting to get nervous, imagining countless possibilities of tragedies.

"Before you regained consciousness, the man came back."

You gasp.

"What happened?"

He doesn't continue.

"Jungkook, what happened?!"

He finally lifts his eyes to yours and you notice a dark glint behind them.

"I killed him, Y/N."

#bts #bangtan #jungkook #kookie #jk #jungkookie #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #ot7

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thesinglesjukebox · 5 years ago

Video

youtube

FULL TAC FT. LIL MARIKO - WHERE'S MY JUUL??

[6.11]

Do we choose rule, or do we choose suck?

Alex Clifton: Juuls. Juuls. Juuls. Oh my god, Juuls. [7]

Katie Gill: It's a little bit telling how all the comments on the YouTube video are comparing this song to other meme songs and not talking about the merits of the song itself. Still, there will always be a place in the world for meme songs that are serviceable memes but less than serviceable songs that teenagers can obnoxiously quote on the bus. "Where's My Juul" fits that niche perfectly. I expect a fleet of TikToks featuring people lip-syncing to this and will be very disappointed when this inevitably doesn't happen because I am out of touch with the youth. [6]

Kalani Leblanc: I can see there's already an abundance of blurbs submitted for this song, and the number will have risen by the time I finish this. After thinking so hard about how to go about being the fifteenth person to say "It sounds like "Shoes"," I'm realizing it's not really "Shoes" anyway. While they're both jokes that bear a resemblance in the thrash of a breakdown, "Where's My Juul??" is also listenable. The comparison is getting tired because it's like did anyone listen to "Shoes"? As a song? In earnest??? While this is not an entirely impressive piece, no concerto or FKA Twigs production, it's enough. Since 2006, we've been making everything into jokes, so it makes perfect sense. Nicotine-induced freakouts would've been the subject of an after school special ten years ago, but now they're joke material for hypebeasts and others on Twitter. Lil Mariko makes an impressive case while trying to find her Juul; I can't find anything this song did wrong, sorry. [8]

Will Adams: The mid-song 0-to-11 ramp is what takes this past the mean-spiritedness of "#Selfie" and the meme-spiritedness of "Phone" into effortless "Shoes"/"Let Me Borrow That Top" absurdity. The Juul is a placeholder; sub in any other monosyllabic cultural artifact, and Lil Mariko's rage against Full Tac's electroclash-y beat would cut through just as effectively. "Sorry, guys!" she says at the end, except there's nothing to apologize for. [7]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: I wrote 20 pages about Juul culture in 2018 so I should in theory be the exact target audience for this. Yet "Where's My Juul??" doesn't really click for me. It's charming and funny in parts (Lil Mariko's spoken verses, which transmit nervy anxiety and barely restrained fury effectively) but the hook, which takes up most of the very long minute-forty-five, is comedy via brute force principles: repeat a phrase enough and it will transfigure into a joke. [5]

Brad Shoup: About as funny as the related TikTok meme, though not as menacing, surprisingly. I wish so badly that Full Tac had gone full hardcore -- or even brostep! -- but am glad that Lil Mariko's Danny Brownian ad-libs and sudden reversals grind "#SELFIE" into the dirt. [7]

Oliver Maier: I need not catalogue the myriad ways in which this is transparently designed to blast off on TikTok -- you would probably know better than me -- but that cynicism detracts from "Where's My Juul??" for me. There's none of the spontaneity or sense of genuine fun that animates certain other genre-agnostic, threat-spewing, extremely online weirdo duos, more savvy than it is genuinely silly. It's not badly executed, but I felt like I got the picture before even hitting play. [4]

Will Rivitz: I get this is supposed to be more meme than song, but I so wish it had leaned into the latter for more than half its runtime. The "FUCK!!!" at the beginning of its second chorus is worth at least a [7] on its own, and its redlining nu-metal production is such a tight fusion of XXXTENTACION's sonic fingerprint and simplified TikTok trap that I'm surprised the "oh my God" ad-libs aren't followed by a "Ronny." As it stands, "Where's My Juul??" and its just-a-little-too-long interludes that grate after listen number four or so functions as a sort of "Thrift Shop" for the current day, a track defined by its novelty that we as an Internet music-Twitter hivemind all agree was genuinely good about five years after it's exited the public consciousness. It deserves more. [8]

Ian Mathers: Both less musically compelling and with less of a point than "Can I Get a Box?". [5]

Katherine St Asaph: It's kind of amazing how it took seven years for Rebecca Martinson to release her debut. [1]

Nortey Dowuona: Lil Mariko is actually kinda weird in the lol so random funny way that people think that [insert overrated white comic who had a Comedy Central show] is and has a really great metal screaming voice. I don't know who made this dull approximation of Kenny Beats and Pi'erre Bourne, nor do I care. Lil Mariko will hopefully get a recurring cameo role on Nora From Queens and get her own show from that. [5]

Mo Kim: The best joke here is the escalation of nonchalance (hey, where's my Juul?) into something desperate, and therefore dangerous: it hits like the drop in a rollercoaster when Lil Mariko finally breaks out the deep-throated metal screams, but the moment wouldn't have half the thrill without the masterful way she gradually ups the heat on the song's first chorus before that. Both of her spoken monologues, where she merges Valley Girl affect with murderous menace, only sweeten the deal. [8]

Ryo Miyauchi: "Where's My Juul??" gets spiked with an infectious dose of adrenaline when it suddenly turns a lot more aggro than you'd expect from a meme-y cross-section of Rico Nasty's mosh-pop and PC Music's ironic bubblegum. The demented beat stings with a pungent metallic sourness, and while her Valley Girl accent scans as an obvious put-on, Lil Mariko's blood-curdling scream is legitimately hair-raising. The song rapidly combusts, ensuring the joke doesn't overstay its welcome. [7]

Joshua Lu: Yes, hearing the unassuming Lil Mariko scream and snarl over a missing Juul is intrinsically funny, especially accompanied by a music video that knows exactly how to push the limits of its concept. But the real strength of "Where's My Juul??" lies in its sheer relatability. The title could be anything -- where's my wallet, my phone, my eraser -- because anyone who has ever misplaced anything can relate to the escalating panic and rage in not only the cataclysmic vocals, but also Full Tac's discordant production. Also crucial to the song is its sense of plot, as it steadily progresses from confusion to blame to outright violence. The ending, though predictable (Lizzo used the exact same twist not that long ago), is a necessary denouement, as it provides the moment where everyone involved can look back on the last minute and a half of chaos and laugh. [8]

Iain Mew: As a song structure trick, I love the fake-out final verse, those ones that seem like something slowly developing before the artist brutally cuts it off for the chorus or instrumental to come back stronger than ever; the "Don't Speak" and "Your Best American Girl" kind of thing. The key moment of "Where's My Juul??" comes in taking that same trick to a ludicrous, brilliant extreme. It has a drawn-out, jittery verse, a cartoon scowl of a chorus, and then one question into verse two it veers straight into swearing, screaming and fucking everything up. That's perfect enough that it would ideally be even shorter than it ends up. [7]

Kylo Nocom: Full Tac and Lil Mariko do in less than two minutes what took Justice five. The gimmick is the least fun part, and judging by my sample size of BigKlit's "Liar" and Full Tac's very own "CHOP" the producers behind this might not even be as funny as this video would imply. But I've long settled with music that's good on the merits of just being fun; when the production here is layered with discordant guitar sampling, analog drum kits, and distant screams of "piss!" and "fuck," I'm willing to buy into the ugliness. [8]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: Full Tac returns with another take on "Liar," succeeding because the goofy conceit here finds an appropriately goofy (that is, unexpected) vocal performance. Part of the appeal is how "Where's My Juul??" could sit comfortably alongside songs from Rico Nasty and Rina Sawayama, but has the appeal of shoddy viral videos from yesteryear. It's that "Kombucha Girl"-type reaction it's striving to elicit, and it accomplishes that as soon as the screaming starts. The best detail, though, is the most subtle: the moment Lil Mariko stops herself from saying "who" and politely asks "have you seen it?" [7]

Michael Hong: Have you ever been dragged to a party only for your only friend to disappear, leaving you to mingle with a group of people you don't know? And one person makes a comment so absurd that you just giggle along with the rest of the group even though you're not really sure if they're layering their statement with even a hint of irony or if there's something much more unsettling lurking underneath? But the jokes are getting more and more uncomfortable and suddenly fewer people are laughing along, instead furtively glancing across each other with an exasperated look as if to say "is this person for real?" And instead of backing away, that person instead starts doubling down, getting more and more aggressive, screaming across the room for what feels like hours and surely people must be ready to head out. Instead, when you finally catch a moment to glance down at your phone, you find that only two minutes have elapsed since you arrived and you realize that not even a quarter of the time has passed before your ride will come and you can leave this godforsaken party. You have absolutely no choice but to continue standing in the group in discomfort, waiting for this moment that feels like an eternity to finally finish, with the only background noise being the stereos blaring what sounds like someone's first attempt at using GarageBand. [0]

Crystal Leww: While I was digging through "likes" on SoundCloud, I noticed that a friend of mine had liked "Baby Let Me Know" by Full Tac, which sounds like the synth heavy dreamy pop that was popular at the beginning of last decade. I did not stick around for "Where's My Juul??" so imagine my surprise today when I turned this on and it's umm, screaming. A consistent genre as an essential part of an up-and-coming artist's brand is less essential than ever, especially in an age where (waves hands) dance music has eaten itself alive in its swirling storm of troll energy. Chaos in and of itself is a brand -- from 100 gecs to Alice Longyu Gao's dueling sister tracks "Rich Bitch Juice"/"Dumb Bitch Juice" to any DJ Bus Replacement Service set, it has fully infiltrated dance music. How this goes from sweetly threatening to full-on psychotic and back to cutely apologetic is chaotic so yes, I think Full Tac could make some noise (both in creating a fanbase and also like literally) with this. [8]

[Read and comment on The Singles Jukebox]

#Full Tac #Lil Mariko #pop #meme #music #music review

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fmdtaeyongarchive · 6 years ago

Text

↬ i drank up all the memories.

date: spring 2019.

location: seoul, south korea.

word count: 1,813 words.

summary: n/a.

notes: creative claims verification. alcohol tw + substance abuse tw. also trigger warning for ash mentally romanticizing his own (and others’, i guess?) substance abuse tendencies. please don’t read this. it might be my worst verification yet.

ash’s drink of choice was a good strong whiskey, but the first drink he’d ever had had been wine. it’d been at a dinner party his parents held and they’d let him sneak a sip. it’d been entirely un-scandalous and about the furthest thing from rebellion possible, but at the time it had felt like the thrill of his life. thirteen years old and unaccustomed to the effects of alcohol besides the way it stung when disinfecting a cut, he had been taken aback by the fizzing sting it brought over his tongue and throat. it wasn’t as bad as it looked when he saw people on television throwing back shot glasses of tequila, but he hadn’t understood at the time why anyone would like it that much. it didn’t taste any better than any other beverage and being drunk couldn’t be that wonderful, he’d naively thought.

now, wine was a drink ash found to be dull. even the most expensive wines weren’t all that amazing in pure taste, and once he’d become a regular drinker, he’d learned it wasn’t about the taste unless you were a wine connoisseur, and that wasn’t a career path ash was going to be going down any time soon. if he wanted to let go of his inhibitions and worries, which was generally the only reason he drank, there were options that were much more effective by the fluid ounce. outside of formal occasions and dinners with mixed company, wine was the drink he only broke out when he wanted to torture himself with the slow burn to a hazy mind instead of the fast and easy path.

ash was a masochist certainly. that wasn’t news to him. he knew all about the difference between the slow pain-easing journey of getting drunk off of wine in place of the fast and burning pain of downing the highest alcohol content shot he could get his hands on. perhaps he should enjoy wine more because of that, but, as a masochist, most nights, he wanted it fast. he didn’t drink for the journey anymore.

yet, there was something to be said for the imagery of someone drowning their melancholy in the gradual fever of a red wine. it was a scene that had been brought to life in many a movie, and it was while watching a movie reclining in his mostly unused living room couch that inspiration struck him for the song. as happened so often in movies that capitalized on dramatic love stories, a man sat in a chair in the dark of his apartment, glass of wine in his hand as he looked over the scenic view of whatever city the film was supposed to be set in. it wasn’t the first time ash had seen the movie, but he’d forgotten the details of the setting as he let the predictable story wash over him unanalyzed.

that had been ash years ago. the drinking age in korea being years lower than in the states had been a helpful accompaniment to the way he’d started young with heartbreak, too.

ash didn’t jump on the song the minute it began to sprout in his mind, but as the first movie turned into another in the mindless marathon of romantic dramas, another similar scene appeared like a sign. this time, the man had chosen a bar as a setting for his melancholy and ash couldn’t stop his brain from gnawing away at the truth behind the cliche. it was easy to drown one’s pain in a drink. ash had done it more times than he could count.

it was after the second scene that ash paused the television and followed the familiar path to his studio. the movie could wait for later, or never if he didn’t feel like coming back to it later, but in the midst of writing an album, any inspiration for a song that came to him so easily needed to be taken advantage of. there were so many nights spent in his own studio on his own or a studio at bc with other producers, brainstorming uselessly for an idea that could spark motivation that forgoing such a convenient offering of lyrical theme would be neglectful of him.

ash slid into the cool seat of his studio chair and pressed the computer on, ideas pulling at the strings of his brain so strongly that he began testing out pressing down chords on the keyboard that wasn’t capable of transferring any of it into sound yet. he heard the keys in his head as he acted out the chord structure and rhythm. he was aiming for the sound of a piano player in a jazz bar, fading into the distance while echoing in the listeners head. ash hadn’t been to many jazz bars in his time. cinema seemed to overestimate their popularity, or there was simply a major discrepancy between their abundance in american cities and seoul. film had taught him the cinematic atmosphere of one, though, and he had enough experience plucking out jazz piano music that it wasn’t too daunting of a feat for him to create a r&b chord progression to play around over top of a more freeform and clashing, tinny piano that would ring out underneath the base melody. throw in some low bass strings and a hollow drum pattern and he had a soundscape to work with before he’d even had time to create a musical outline in his mind. instead, it had all come together naturally based on the setting in his head.

there was a slow burn groove to the composition that teetered on the line between a song that could play under the witty, flirtatious exchange of dialogue during the first meeting between two fated partners in a film just as well as it could play under the scene of one half of the pair seated alone in the same bar months or years later when the passionate affair had completely fallen apart with only treacherous memories and glasses of wine left to poison the mind.

it all played out in his head faster than he could transfer it into his music program, but by the time the sun began to rise outside of his building in the morning—not that he could see it within his studio with its meticulously blacked-out windows—ash was left with an instrumental that had full potential to be turned into something. before he left the studio to shower and get dressed for his schedules for the day, sleep be damned, ash sent the instrumental out to one of his producer contacts for feedback on what it needed to be complete. surely, he hadn’t been able to craft a fully fleshed out track in one night, but he didn’t want to wait and stress over the details for another several nights in a row when what he had now had come to him as such a simple strike of inspiration.

he returned to his studio two nights later and opened up the producer’s response. they’d praised his start, but provided their constructive criticism as ash had welcomed within his initial message. he’d also invited them to include their own edits to the track if they had time, but they hadn’t sent a new file back, either because they hadn’t had time or because they hadn’t found anything they didn’t trust ash wouldn’t fix himself. ash hoped the latter possibility was the truth, but to avoid getting too proud of his own work, he assumed the former. upon listening back to the file, ash played around with production elements that had sounded better in the moment than they did now before settling on contentedness with the track.

that’s where the lyrics came in. he already had a concept in mind and thought it’d been a few days since he’d watched the scenes that had inspired the song, the distance was good. he didn’t want to write words that were too built upon some director’s creative vision for fake characters in a dramatized love story. like most of his songs, ash wanted this one to be more personal than impersonal. placing himself too separate from his own music was a sure way to run into a creative roadblock in his brain, and he’d been told he needed to work on getting better at separating himself so that he could write more diverse music, but for now, he wasn’t looking to challenge himself with someone else’s story.

it had been a while since ash had gone through a break-up or a crack in a relationship big enough to leave him drowning his romantic sorrows in a glass, but if he searched far back enough into the nooks and crannies of his memories, he could gather a recollection of what that feeling had been like. drowning his sorrows in general was a feeling that required much less searching, so he focused in on the imagery of that as he began to sketch out lyrics ideas.

settling on the concept of the bitter memories floating in the wine itself, ash found the first verse of the song. it told a four line story of downing glass after glass of the history-laced liquid to make the past disappear into the abyss because the pain of holding on was too much.

the song then turned into a lament directed at a lover who couldn’t hear him. the false sense of security in shouting into the void while intoxicated had fooled ash once or twice, but the silence never talked back in the way he wanted. it never had the voice of the person he both ached to and feared hearing speak back, and there was both relief and hurt in that fact. instead, the silence only brought back the memories that he’d been so inelegantly trying to banish from his mind.

from misery to resoluteness, that was how the song’s tale ended. the pieces of a broken relationship couldn’t be patched together any easier than the shattered shards of a fragile wine glass, and that was a truth more bitter to swallow than the drink itself. no matter how hard it could be (and how bad ash was at it), it was something that had to be realized to move on.

no one could keep submerging the parts of their mind they wanted to ignore in wine forever. they either had to find a way to float or give in and drown. that was a thought that skirted over the surface of ash’s brain, only staying long enough to be incorporated into the lyrics before swiftly disappearing so as not to be dwelled on too long.

he had to put part of himself into every song, but he didn’t have to face the way those parts tried to look back on him in the mirror of his music.

#alcohol tw #substance abuse tw #fmdverification #i'm getting closer and closer to being done with these for a little bit so let's celebrate that #&& queued

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ryanmeft · 6 years ago

Text

Ranking the Marvel Cinematic Universe, Part 1

The culmination of the superhero ride that started with Iron Man back in 2008 is almost here. Avengers: Endgame tickets are selling out fast even though the movie is nearly three weeks away, and speculation as to how this stage of Marvel’s box office juggernaut will all end is at a fever pitch. What better time to rank the movies that have brought us here? Now, no one with even a tiny bit of objectivity sincerely believes Marvel had a ten year plan and executed it precisely according to a grand vision. Looking back through these movies makes it clearer than ever that, more often than not, they made it up as they went along. In fact, considering all the retcons, changed minds, dropped plot threads and unexpected surprises, it’s amazing the continuity holds together at all. It mostly does...but the bottom part of this list contains the few movies even Marvel’s PR team probably wishes they could have a mulligan on, as well as some good-but-not-quite-lighting-the-world-on-fire fare. Let’s get to it. Warning: this article contains spoilers for nearly every movie in the MCU.

21. Iron Man 2

The red-headed stepchild of the MCU. After the surprise success of the original Iron Man, Marvel Studios apparently forgot that the strength of that film was allowing Jon Favreau and the writing team to put heart before brand synergy, and decided to make a movie that was half marketing for their planned Avengers crossover. Dropping Black Widow in here felt completely jarring, and it didn’t help that her role just added to the jumble of plot threads that didn’t seem to add up to anything; at the time, many saw it as proof that Marvel was putting a little too much faith in their ability to pull off this whole crossover thing. That’s only part of the sordid story, though, because the movie is also a mess in nearly every other way. Rather than the tight plotting of the original, this one sees Tony, Rhodey, Pepper and the rest speeding from random situation to random situation---a car race, an unhinged party, a spy caper---with only the barest of plot threads holding it all together. The movie’s only saving graces are the villains played by Sam Rockwell and Mickey Rourke. Each of them deliciously devours every scene they are in, providing the film’s lone moments of enjoyment, but they’re also squandered on what feels like an extremely low stakes plan. Iron Man so well proved that superhero movies can have a soul that it even managed to make some critical best-of lists for 2008. The sequel made us wonder if that might have been a tad premature.

20. The Incredible Hulk

There are some genuinely creative moments in this action-oriented “apology” for the in-reality-pretty-good Ang Lee Hulk movie. The opening sequence showing how Hulk’s blood travels, a chase through a Brazilian favela, tossing Bruce out of a helicopter to incite his other half, and the almost-love scene aborted by the alter ego were signs of how clever the movie could have been if it were not focused on cramming in as much smashing as possible. Nick Nolte’s complex antagonist is replaced with William Hurt chewing a little too much scenery, the new super-villain played by Tim Roth is a dull waste of the actor’s talent, the finale is listless, and the entire movie is just one long excuse to show Hulk ‘roiding out as much as possible. The camera work of skilled action veteran Peter Menzies Jr. and some excellent CG on the title character make it more fun to look at than many of the tights flicks of the time, which is something. As a general rule, things that are made to chase fleeting audience sentiments don’t stand the test of time, and there’s been a quiet reversal since 2008 in which Lee’s more original and creative vision for the character has come to be re-evaluated, while this one has been almost forgotten and relegated to endless TNT re-runs. Maybe with Mark Ruffalo having one more movie on his contract, he’ll get a crack at doing it right post-Endgame.

19. Thor: The Dark World At the time, this movie served as iron-clad proof that the only reason the Thor character worked at all was Loki. The god of mischief is at his delicious then-best here, conniving from a prison cell, partnering with his brother out of genuine concern, and eventually managing to actually take the throne. Sure, that latter development was quickly undone in the next film, but what a parting shot. He’s the only aspect of the movie that fully works, and if you pop it in today you sit patiently waiting for his scenes and snoring through the second, Loki-free half of the movie. Thor himself is lifeless when Loki’s not on screen. The Warriors Three are still nowhere near the right balance of humor and bravery. Natalie Portman remains wasted on a supposedly genius scientist who can nevertheless be stunned into immediate silence by Thor’s golden locks, while Sif is still 100% unnecessary in every way. Perhaps worst of all, the underrated Christopher Eccleston is miscast as a villain who always seems to be doing bad Shakespeare. We all tried hard to forgive it at the time (and director Alan Taylor claims it was made “a different movie” in the editing room, not at all implausible) but thankfully we’ve since admitted this is mostly a misfire.

18. Ant-Man

If you were to judge Ant-Man entirely by the size-changing shenanigans, it would be one of the best Marvel movies. Peyton Reed, building off a script by departing director Edgar Wright and Joe Cornish (and tidied up by Rudd and Adam McKay) gets a ton of mileage out of the novelty of being the size of an insect, from outrunning a flood in a bathtub to that rather brilliant final confrontation in a child’s playroom, using toys as ammo. Further, Paul “I Am Immortal” Rudd is pitch-perfect in the title role, while Michael Douglas and Evangeline Lilly bring a lot to the picture. It’s in the details where Ant-Man falls a bit short (pun intended). To start, we have a single major Hispanic character in the MCU, played by the frankly more-legendary-than-you-think Michael Pena, and he’s reduced to a fast-talking stereotype. Judy Greer and Bobby Cannavale are also worlds better than their roles, which are, respectively, a cliche shrewish ex-wife and a cliche over-suspicious cop. What really drags things down, though, is the lackluster villain, who may be the most inert black hole in the MCU’s rogues gallery. He is neither good enough to engage us, nor bad enough to hate. He could have been played by a grip, for all the personality he’s allowed. The core of the film is delightful. The hill around it is crumbly.

17. Captain Marvel

Marvel’s first female-led flick is understandably a phenomenon, pulling down the sixth-largest opening weekend of all time and serving as inspiration to young girls and target to the kind of people who don’t want women in their clubhouse. So what about the movie that’s causing all this hullabaloo? It’s pretty decent. The movie can be summed up very succinctly as “safe”. It takes few chances and is more like one small step than one giant leap for womankind. Had it been released during the early superhero boom, it would still be fondly remembered as a major link in the genre’s evolution. As it is, it borrows from the buddy-cop subgenre to create what is essentially an adventure/sci-fi movie between Carol Danvers and Nick Fury. It stands out more as a callback to the kind of action pics made in the 90’s (when it is set) than the heavily marketed shared universe of the MCU, and includes standout performances from Annette Bening, Jude Law and Ben Mendelsohn. It meets expectations; it does not exceed them, and if you are a fan of the distinctive style practiced by directors Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck, you won’t find it here. It’s only a month old, and it may be too soon to definitely say how it will be seen as time goes on. Right now, it feels more like a solid first step for the character than a fully realized final destination.

16. Thor

The original Thor has some completely solid, indisputable charms. Chris Hemsworth does physical comedy much more skillfully than he is ever given credit for, it is the debut of Tom Hiddleston as Loki, the third act is a rare-at-the-time case of inventiveness in an MCU finale, and it’s always great to see Stellan Skarsgard in literally anything. I would watch two hours of Stellan Skarsgard eating lunch, with a clone of Stellan Skarsgard. His drinking scene with Thor is a seriously underrated bit of awesome. It helps make up for the fact that the movie has no idea what to do with most of the supporting cast, including in part Loki, who at this stage seems to flail around between personalities, having crazy forced on him in time for the final duel despite it not even being hinted at earlier. It’s as if director Kenneth Branagh just let him do his own thing, and Hiddleston’s not 100% sure what that should be yet. The mirror scene is objectively amazing, but he won’t really come into his own until Avengers. The Warriors Three are utterly wasted; Branaugh and the writers just never nail the right combo of comedy and camaraderie needed to pull them off. Sif is superfluous. Natalie Portman is one of the finest actors of our generation, here reduced to goggling over Thor’s pecs. It’s not bad, especially compared to some of the dreck that gets pumped out of the blockbuster machine. It’s just rather inert.

That’s it for part 1. I’m going to be doing some Marvel/Superhero/General Nerd content leading up to Endgame’s release. Check back next Friday for part 2 of this list, and pop by Monday for part 1 of my predictions on the fate of each character in Endgame. Part 2: https://ryanmeft.tumblr.com/post/184208179827/ranking-the-marvel-cinematic-universe-part-2 Part 3: https://ryanmeft.tumblr.com/post/184372777282/ranking-the-marvel-cinematic-universe-part-3

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kaispen · 6 years ago

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4.4.19

Glory be to the Father And to the Son And to the Holy Spirit As it was in the beginning Is now and ever shall be World without end. Amen. I have not felt this high in what seems like years! My laptop is in an office one daytime jeepney right away. I have officially resigned from our family business and have been free to pursue my own endeavors. Presently, I have committed myself to a two-month administrative project, and tomorrow ends the first week. So far, so great. And I am praying for a continuallyy fruitful and harmonious alliance with my boss. My best friend. I started my day with Holy Mass in the Cathedral across the park across our home. Phonecall with bff GI Jane regarding her condo unit which she is selling. Then jeepney ride to bff's office. Arrived five minutes before clock in. Today was a "special day" because I had asked permission the day before to get off from work at 3pm. Our business meeting was conducted enroute to her errands at the BIR (Bureau of Internal Revenue). In place of our usual ancient mischief, we were animated in our plans for implementing the project. It was amazing how we truly focused solely on the job and did not have segues to popculture gossip, life analysis, and whatnot. It was pure business. And it was way fun! By lunch time, bff decided to go S&R to find stuff for the office and continue our meeting over lunch. Never a dull and wasted moment. And we were able to afford priceless foolishness within our trip to the store. Before we parted ways, we targeted the date to realize our plans. Next week. Then I told her to ask me why I requested to be let off at 3. To watch the screening of It Started with a Kiss in the cinema. So off I went to the cinema, excited to fall in love with Itazura na Kiss and Darren Wang through his Irie Naoki - and I did!!! Only five souls in the cinema, but we all lit up with glee - as brightly as the giddiness of this version's Kotoko Chan. I went out of the cinema wishing to watch the movie another time, only to predictably find out that this was its last screening. (There was no local publicity anyway, thus the five happy souls - but hey, only five). As if my day wasn't happy enough, I had the amazing fortune of bumping into one of my favorite college teachers, former parent at our preschool too; aside from that, she was a law school comrade of bff and our other bff... so many connections, but most importantly, we were happy to see each other And within thirty minutes,shared our life stories - hers marked with wonderful milestones of building her own company and having published a book, and ending up to this point with a new love after years of raising her boy (our former student) alone... Triumphant stories - blessing each other, admiring each other, being happy with the happenstance of the reunion. Thinking about the stellar connection makes me teary eyed. She blessed me, wished me well - wished me to be happy in love like her. And that made my heart full. I walked from the mall back home. On the way, I phoned my friend. My current male text mate and gushed to him about Itazura. We talked about food again - chicharon. And then I hung up. It was a twenty-five minute walk. I passed through the main thoroughfare where fancy restaurants and cafes were located. "You again!" said my aunt and my cousin. The latter is my sister's good friend, former admirer, donor of our beloved dog... he hailed a taxi and took me home (as if home wasn't four easy blocks away). Apparently, he and my sister and then I were attending the same dinner party tonight. Yes, after the movie, a dinner party... a birthday celebration of a new friend... who also happens to be a relative to how the male cousin and I are related (that claustrophobic clan of big little small town). Friends and relatives, yes, but I attended my new friend's party, more because she is my friend than she is my relative. The place was packed with the new young professionals - former students, acquaintances, my sister and our male cousin. In the party were my friends in our Catholic community, one of them a favorite person of mine (I invited her to the community). I got to know this girl through our breast cancer survivors group - and she's become a close friend. I told her I was going to an internet cafe to chronicle my happiness laden day. Before we parted ways, we talked about church annulment. We should both file our respective applications... so that crushing on someone would be guilt free. And here I am thanking God and Mama Mary for blessing me with a full heart... It's been a wonderful day. Good night.

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shazzeaslightnovels · 6 years ago

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Reading Log - January 2019

A summary of all the light novel volumes I read this month - along with my thoughts on them. I bought all of these volumes from BookWalker. Most of these series will not be available in English but I’ll try to point it out when I know if one of this series has received an official translation.

Note that, obviously, the following text is just my own opinion so please respect that and if you see anything that I got completely wrong (i.e. I accidentally refer to a character with incorrect pronouns), let me know. I will avoid posting spoilers as much as possible but let me know if I accidentally slip up.

Gamers! 1 by Sekina Aoi (Light Novel):

It was a fairly enjoyable read for the most part but, by the time I had reached the second half, I had lost interest and just wanted it to end. The chapters felt so long and dull and I think shorter chapters would have worked better. The other thing that stuck out to me is that the art is very simplistic and sometimes did not match the text for the scene it was for. I didn’t feel like the art added anything to the volume though I suppose it would have been jarring without it, given the genre of the story. That being said, I liked the characters a lot, including the protagonist and I enjoyed it enough that I’ll probably check out the second volume in the future though I’ll probably watch the anime beforehand to make sure that the story doesn’t go in a direction I don’t like.

Saenai Heroine no Sodatekata 1 by Fumiaki Maruto (Light Novel):

After finishing the Koisuru Metronome spin-off manga last month (which I loved, btw), I finally had motivation to read the light novel. It is really good. The pacing is excellent, there are a lot of funny moments and I love Maruto’s writing style. I do think that this series really needs to give the reader more insight on Katou. I get that part of the charm of the first volume is reliant on Tomoya having no interest in Katou but I want to know about her family and friends (because she must have some that she hung out with before meeting Tomoya) and I want to know what she’s like with them. I watched the anime alongside reading this and I think the events flow smoother in that and there is a lot of really interestingly directed parts (I love the café scene in episode 2) but it loses a bit of funny dialogue which is a shame. I have volume 2 already but I’ll probably wait a bit to read it so that I don’t get burnt out on the series.

Monku no Tsukeyou ga Nai Love Comedy 3 by Daisuke Suzuki (Light Novel):

In my mind, this series has two main charm points: the fun dialogue and the relationship between its’ two leads and it’s the latter that is on full display in this volume. Outside of that, it’s a pretty unremarkable yet enjoyable volume from a pretty unremarkable yet enjoyable series. I have to say that the side story that came with the volume on BookWalker is adorable though. As an aside, I recommend this series for people who are learning Japanese. It’s pretty easy since most of it is just dialogue and there aren’t many places that can trip you up.

Otome Game no Hametsu Flag Shika Nai Akuyaku Reijou ni Tensei Shiteshimatta... 2 by Satoru Yamaguchi (light Novel):

This volume is just as entertaining and hilarious as the first but it also surprised me. While the first volume could’ve been described as ‘predictable yet fun’, this volume had quite a few events that I didn’t see coming and, more than that, it was interesting. When I got to the main chapter, I couldn’t stop reading. It was that good. Katarina continues to be an amazing protagonist and the rest of the characters are just as enjoyable. In particular, this volume introduces to new characters and I won’t talk much about the second because spoilers but I loved Maria and I ship her with Katarina so much. I will warn that this series suffers from originally being a web novel will little editing been done during the conversion to being a light novel series in that most of the chapters are episodic so, when you get to the main chapter, it feels disconnected from the rest of the volume and is way longer than any of the other chapters.

J-Novel Club is currently releasing the volumes in English under the title of My Next Life as a Villainess: All Routes Lead to Doom! so please pick it up if the series interests you.

Otome Game no Hametsu Flag Shika Nai Akuyaku Reijou ni Tensei Shiteshimatta... 3 by Satoru Yamaguchi (light Novel):

Welp, I suppose it was about time that this series had a volume that I didn’t love. The first chapter was pretty good but there wasn’t a whole lot in the later chapters that I liked. The new characters introduced this volume were interesting enough but I’d have rather have spent time with the characters I already love. Plus, I would’ve been fine with this series ending in the previous volume though admittedly the series probably wouldn’t have been as popular if it had and I might not have read it in the first place. I’m not really a fan of romance series and I feel like this volume is trying to steer the series into becoming more of one and I hope that the following volumes bring back the things that make me enjoy this series and I love the cover for vol. 4 so I’m sure it will (Katarina, charging while Jeord and Sora are all ‘slow down, dumbass!’).

Thinking about, if Katarina ends up with anyone, I want it to be Maria. They definitely have the sweetest and cutest interactions but, if I’m being realistic because it almost impossible for this series to go the yuri route, I’d prefer Nicole over the other guys. He won me over in the first volume when he gave Katarina a necklace modelled after one that a character in a book had and he’s been consistently good since then. He really cares for Katarina and I think she’d be happiest with him. Keith and Alan are also good options but I don’t get the appeal of Jeord.

Monku no Tsukeyou ga Nai Love Comedy 4 by Daisuke Suzuki (light Novel):

Sekai doesn’t actually have a whole lot of scenes in this volume which made is boring since her relationship with Yuuki really is the stand-out of the series and Kurumi and Haruko are pretty dull. The last chapter was interesting though.

Saenai Heroine no Sodatekata 2 by Fumiaki Maruto (Light Novel):

This volume seemed to drag on longer than the first but I did really enjoy the climactic scenes with Utaha and I loved the short dialogue-only interaction between Katou and Eriri. There’s a lot that I want to say about this series but I’m waiting and hoping that the series will prove me wrong before I do so. For now, I’m just wanting for this series to show more interactions between the characters without Tomoya. I will say that I think the anime is slightly better than the light novel series so far. It has it’s problems, like it has a lot of times where a male gaze-y perspective is used and it’s unpleasant but I think it succeeds in the most important way: it makes me forget about Katou’s existence. It’s hard to make Katou forgettable in a dialouge-focused text-based series and the manga doesn’t even try to do it but the anime takes advantage of it’s format and successfully uses certain camera angles to make Katou less noticeable.

Monku no Tsukeyou ga Nai Love Comedy 5 by Daisuke Suzuki (light Novel)

Easily the most entertaining volume of the series so far, to the point where I wanted to immediately buy vol. 6 when I finished it (I didn’t because I like to wait for sales but the temptation was there). I can’t talk about this series a lot because the first volume has a twist that most readers won’t see coming so I don’t want to spoil it for them but I will say that I usually find the characters who aren’t Sekai or Yuuji to be boring but I actually liked them in this volume, probably because they interacted with Sekai while usually they just interact with Yuuji. I will also say that I think the structure of this series would have worked better in a eroge or galge. The structure actually reminds me of Asairo’s structure more than anything else and it kind of works in light novel format but it feels like it was meant for a route structure.

Saenai Heroine no Sodatekata 3 by Fumiaki Maruto (Light Novel):

My favorite thing about this volume is that Tomoya was never insulted or shamed for liking otome games. He also gets to cry a bit near the end of the volume and male protagonists showing emotions other than anger is always nice (note that the anime down-playes this and I’m super bitter about it. He hardly cries in the anime but in the light novel, he full on bawls to the point where he has trouble speaking) . Eriri got the bulk of development this time around and I think it was well done. I really liked the scene with her and Tomoya at the end. A new heroine, Izumi, is introduced in this volume and I think she has the potential to be an interesting character. She’s, unfortunately, used to generate boob physics in the anime and the manga (to be clear, the manga is much worse than the anime in this regard) and she’s a middle schooler so that’s… uncomfortable, to say the least. I hope she uses her earnings from Comiket to buy a decent bra... I didn’t care much for Iori in the volume but I thought he was hilarious in the anime adaptation and I kinda ship him with Tomoya tbh.

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spectraspecs-writes · 6 years ago

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Original Writing! And part of a LOVE SPAM

Girlfriend, I got stuff for days.

Tag list @skelelexiunderlord , @procrastinatorpresents , @auruncushd (I remembered, Kevin), and @the-peculiar-bi-tch bc it’s for her LOVE SPAM

Chapter 1: The Invisible Staircase

Monday, January 16, 2012, 11:23:14 AM, New York City, New York:

Open eyes. Breathe in, breathe out. Okay, he thought to himself, I’m alive.

Wait a minute…

Who am I?

He sat up – it hurt a little, hurt his side, but it was just a twinge and it quickly passed, so he moved on – and looked around, for someone, anyone, who might know something. About anything. Who was he? What was going on? Where was he? At this point he was pretty sure that anyone would know more than he did about anything. Because every time he asked himself a question, he couldn’t remember any of the answers, or even whether or not he knew them. And that was certainly a bit scary. But there was nobody around, no one near him that he could ask. Guess I’m on my own then.

He looked down around himself. Okay, he concluded, seeing the floor below him, I’m up on something. Maybe I should get down. He swung his legs over the side of the table (apparently he was on a table. Apparently he knew what a table was. Certainly very comforting in these confusing times), setting his feet down on the floor. He stood up to his full height, then thought, no, something’s missing. Something’s off. He looked around again: On the far wall opposite himself, he saw a long tan trench coat and a matching fedora. For some reason he felt the hat was not his, but the coat – that was his, that’s what was missing. He walked over to the coat and pulled it on. I love this coat, I’m not me without my coat, he thought (and again, he didn’t know why.) He put his hands in his pants pockets and grinned a little, feeling like himself.

Then he felt something in his pockets: a folded up piece of paper. He pulled it out and gently unfolded it. There were characters all over the small piece of paper, but most of them were concentrated near the center. A note. It read (and apparently he could read), “Run. Get out. You’re not safe. Go to the city. Run!” Suspicious and confused, he turned it over, examining it further. The other side read, “You’ll know what you’re looking for when you find it. Hurry. You are being watched.”

Suddenly the room around him felt less friendly, and that was saying something because it felt pretty uncomfortable from the get-go. He pulled the hat on and over his eyes, and quickly – but calmly – left the room.

Whenever he passed by someone, they glanced at him curiously, but no one tried to stop him. One of them, when he passed, said to the person he was talking to, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” But maybe this wasn’t a reaction to him, exactly, he tried to think optimistically, and still a part of their prior conversation. I mean, he thought to himself, what do you do when someone walks by when you’re having a conversation at work? You look, to make sure they’re not the boss. Right? (He didn’t know this for sure, of course, it was just speculation. A man who doesn’t even know his own name isn’t too sure about anything, after all.)

It was obvious to him, though, that in order to exit any place, you first had to find a door to take you out. And as far as finding that, he was at a loss. How could he possibly know which one of the many doors he passed would be the one to lead him outside? He didn’t even know if he was on the inside of the building or the outside. He didn’t even know which floor he was on. There were no windows around to even tell him where he was. At the present moment he was doing his best to convince himself that he wasn’t lost. He was probably walking in circles, the hallway kept curving. He was pretty sure that he’d eventually end up back where he started.

He passed by a stairwell. Okay, if I’m not already on the first floor, I should get there. He peeked inside the stairwell. It only went up. Well at least I know something now. I know what floor I’m on. Given that he didn’t know much of anything, having that information was really satisfying. Probably way more satisfying than it would be for anyone else. Time to keep going the way he had been, to focus back on the original problem of how to get out of here. Even though it was starting to feel like even the people who worked here weren’t supposed to get out that easily.

But then all his problems were miraculously solved. An older man opened a door, and the man with no name happened to see through it. Outside. It led outside, into a smelly alley. Well, beggars can’t be choosers. He got the feeling that he wasn’t the sort of man who would take coincidence so easily, but at this point he wasn’t about to look this beautiful gift horse squarely in the mouth. So he quickly moved past the gentleman – who nodded at him as if in salutation to an old friend, but the man with no name didn’t pay it a great amount of attention, as he was far more focused on getting out the door before it closed – and he slunk through the door before anyone could notice him.

He may not have remembered his name, his life, his family, or literally anything else about himself, but he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the smell he smelled was the smell of New York, and he therefore knew that this was undeniably that, specifically, the city of the same name. Or maybe he knew all that because there was a watch on his right hand that told him where he was. Whatever, either one. But he couldn’t dwell on all that for long. He could not dwell on the fact that he knew this was New York, no matter how he knew it. He didn’t know anything else, but he knew that there was no time to worry about that or much of anything when there were people after him. And he definitely knew that there were people after him. Otherwise why would that note in his pocket have told him to run twice? Why would the note have told him that he wasn’t safe? Why would it have said that he was being watched? Either it was all an elaborate joke that really wasn’t funny or his life was legitimately in danger. For the time being he chose to believe the latter. Because if it were the former, then, among other things, he’d feel really stupid. But, life in danger, he didn’t have time to even consider that the note he’d found in his pocket wasn’t trustworthy, there were people after him. So he took off down the street, in the direction that he somehow knew was the right one. Or hoped, at least.

Cities can be big places, and especially this city. The buildings towered over him and all the sounds of the great metropolis bounced off of them, as well as the little bit of heat that the sun released. It was mid-January, cloudy and cold, the air biting. It was a surprised to him that there were as many people out and about as there were. He didn’t know how he knew this, but he knew that he generally tended to avoid urban New York in this time period. It was a bit too busy, too hectic. He also knew that he preferred smaller, more remote locations. But for this this circumstance, he had to commend himself for choosing this location. No one would notice just another person in New York City. It was a city full of people full of mundane thoughts that went something along the lines of, “Go forward. What am I going to do about such and such? Ah, yes, I’ll do that. Turn left. What about such and such about the money? There’s always something wrong with that. Blah, blah, blah.” So predictable. So dull and monotonous, it was a wonder that the entire populous didn’t go mad with the back and forth of it all. All the same. All day, every day.

The man turned his head right, then left, then right again, standing at a street corner. His tan trench coat moved with the breeze, revealing his socks to the people standing next to him. One red, one green. Not that they cared to look. His white sneakers, which had been colored on with colored marker, were torn and worn from overuse. The fedora covered his face. No one could see what he looked like.

Which was good.

Very good.

The light changed, allowing him and everyone around him to cross the street. They all walked swiftly, heads down, holding their own coats closed against the bitter January wind. Some of them talked on cell phones, or Bluetooth, or quietly to themselves. Some of them didn’t talk at all. None of them talked to each other. However, that was of little interest to him. All that concerned him was keeping his coat closed, keeping his eyes down, keeping himself secret. Hidden away from the prying eyes of the people looking for him. Blending in with the crowd. Looking no more out of place than the business man dictating to someone over his Bluetooth. Than the girl with the pink cat Laplander hat, texting her friends through fingerless gloves. Than the woman clutching her coffee between shivering hands, her only defense against the cruel wind and world. The people that saw him quickly forgot him. He was nothing special. Just a man who kept to himself, and they were a dime a dozen. And no one would ever think twice about the man with the socks that didn’t match and the tan trench coat, or his search for the object he couldn’t identify.

But he’d know it when he saw it. And he somehow knew where he was going, too, like he was being drawn to something he couldn’t consciously feel. And there was sort of a smell, a faint smell, that he couldn’t put his finger on, but it was familiar, and it made him feel secure to smell it. And he knew, an unexplainable knowledge, that the smell and the thing he was looking for were connected somehow. And just as the smell was ordinary, yet out of the ordinary, he was such that the object, too, was just that. Ordinary, yet out of the ordinary. He had left it for himself. Apparently.

He turned onto the sidewalk and stopped. A butterfly had landed in front of him. That’s not possible, came a voice from the back of his head, There are no insects in New York in January. He didn’t know why there were no insects in New York in January, but the voice was convincing, it felt right. He bent down, curiously holding out his hand for the insect. The butterfly flew and landed on his hand, flapping its brightly colored wings slowly. Somehow this was wrong. But he didn’t know how. So he stood back up and went back on his way, the butterfly in his hand. From his hand to his shoulder.

He looked down an alley, and stopped again. This was it. Somehow he was certain, this was it. He saw it. To anyone else, it would just look like a piece of trash. It was just a wood plank in an alley. An old rotting wood plank that, if closely examined, would have an engraving on it that made no sense. But it made sense to him. Though his memory was more or less gone, he remembered spending the early years of his life learning how to read and write in this language. Somehow he knew that, but when he searched his mind for anything else – his name, his life, his family, anything about himself – there was nothing. Not a glimmer of a word, not an old funny feeling. Just a blank book, upon which the words of his life should have been written. But now there was nothing. As though the pages had been torn out.

“Find the hidden staircase,” the wood plank read. A different language than the one on the note, different characters. The characters that were on the fringes of the note, but not the center. But that didn’t really matter right now. So he turned into the alley and began to feel along the wall. Feeling a little bit ridiculous, looking for a hidden staircase. But it would be along the wall, wouldn’t it? That’s where a staircase would be, hidden or not. Then something stopped his hand. Cold metal, but there was nothing there. Nothing visible, anyway. He reached out to grasp the metal, watching his hand. Upon gripping the metal, wrapping his fingers around its frigid surface, his hand vanished. He lifted up his leg tentatively, trying to find the first step, and when he found it, he set his foot down, watching it vanish before his eyes. He smiled, and continued cautiously to walk up the invisible staircase. When he got far enough that his entire body was under the influence of the invisibility that cloaked the staircase, that was when he could finally see his hand again, his foot. He could see the entire staircase. It was as though someone had cloaked the entire fire escape. God help anyone who lived there if there was a fire. Was the fire escape invisible all the time? Probably not, that would be irresponsible.

As the man with no name stepped into the alley, read the plank, searched for the invisible staircase, a small grey cat with large eyes peered at him. Followed in his every footstep, watched his every move. From the moment he left the building he’d woken up in until this moment, right now. It tilted its head curiously and followed now to where the man with no name had found the invisible staircase. Sniffed around to where the metal had to be, and stepped with a tentative paw onto the first step. Seeing that the staircase was secure, it continued to follow him up the invisible staircase. No one would have heard it, as it was too quiet, but with each step the cat took, there was a slight whirring sound. Like machinery at its joints. No one would have noticed it, as it was too subtle, but the cat’s eyes were too perfect, unnatural. Like a computer had designed them. No one would have thought it, as it was unthinkable, but the man with no name didn’t have to worry about the people after him. He should have been worried about this cat. The cat was an enemy of the unnoticeable man with no name. But even if he had looked back and seen the cat, he would not know why. It was just a cat, after all. What harm could a little grey cat do to him? Had he noticed, he might have even welcomed the cat inside with him, and played right into the hands of his enemies. Who better than a cat to spy?

The man with no name stopped at a door at the top of the invisible staircase. He had expected a window, like was all along the rest of the outer wall. At his feet was a small flap. He poked his shoe in, but no reaction came from the other side. At eye level there was an eyehole that had been put in the wrong way. He placed his eye up to the hole curiously, and the hole scanned his eye. A pretty terrifying thing if you weren’t expecting it, which he wasn’t. And if that wasn’t enough, the door spoke: “Eye imprint recognized. Access granted.”

Still a bit stunned from having his eye scanned, he wasn’t really sure what to think of the talking door, but it opened, and so he entered. The small grey cat tried to get to the door in time, but it was closed a second before it could squeeze through. It tried to enter through the flap, but it was stuck.

#writing #original writing #chronos book series #the man that time forgot #tmttf #book 1 #the book that started it all #specs writes stuff #autistic artist #science fiction #fiction #time travel

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