no one on here would be particularly interested in reading poetry i've written, right?

Cruelty of the Beast - Part 6

( previous. )

Characters: c!Tommy, c!Wilbur Word count: 1896 words Content: wilbur soot & tommyinnit are siblings, reference to abuse, reference to torture, reference to death, healing, wilbur makes amends,

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Wilbur’s walking too fast for Tommy to keep up, he has to actually jog just to remain a step or two behind the man. It’s not hard to figure out where they’re going; they’re easily headed for some beach.

Tommy doesn’t want to be here. He wants to at least stay in the cabin if he’s to stay put anywhere, but Wilbur had given him a shovel and an axe and told Tommy to follow. There’s never much of a choice with an order like that.

Wilbur also hasn’t spoken to Tommy in close to an hour now. The trek is long, but it’s also a torture all on its own. Tommy doesn’t do well with silence, fearing that Wilbur is silently judging him or sizing him up. He feels very much like he’s marching toward his own demise.

He very well may be.

Keeping his gaze down, Tommy tightens his grip on the handle of the shovel, trying to keep focused on staying right behind Wilbur, ignoring how much his legs are hurting.They’re passing by abandoned portals, portals they could easily light. The idea that there would be paths waiting for them on the other side is a far-fetched idea though; they’re too far out from any sort of civilization.

After what feels like forever, Wilbur finally stops. Tommy stops next to him, peering out at the water. It’d be so easy to craft a boat and sail out toward escape, but that would just be more isolation and loneliness. The potential escape isn’t worth that.

“Grab as much sand as you can carry in your inventory,” Wilbur explains. “We’re going to have to make another trip, possibly to a desert, but this is good enough.” He offers Tommy a smile. It’s reminiscent of the old Wilbur, the one that ran L’Manburg with all the pride and charisma he used to possess. There are shades of it again, but not enough to induce an illusion that this is good. Nothing about this situation is good. Ranboo and Dream had also disappeared some time ago, and there’s no telling when they’ll be back.

“What are we grabbing sand for?” Tommy asks to fill the silence. He’s already at work, grabbing sand and filing it away into his backpack. It’s messy and coarse, already getting into his shoes. “This already sucks.”

"Explosives,” comes the casual reply. Too casual for Tommy’s liking. He’d already had an idea, but the fact that Wilbur wants them both to fill their inventories, and then make a second trip scares Tommy. Narrowing his eyes, he pauses in his digging to lean against the shovel.

“Why are you doing this Wilbur? Why do you and Dream want to hurt everyone so bad? Why am I even here?”

“Instead of me answering those questions, can I ask you a few questions instead?” Wilbur too pauses, pressing his hands together as he studies Tommy with a pensive expression. “Please, be as honest with me as possible, alright?”

“No promises.” A nod signals for Wilbur to go ahead, however.

“Are you happy with your life right now?”

It’s a very pointed question that has Tommy flinching back. Instinct would have him deflecting or changing the subject entirely, but Wilbur looks like he’s waiting patiently for an answer. This isn’t the revived Wilbur, this is the one that had been Tommy’s closest friend for the longest time... brothers, even.

Part of him is tempted to lie, but that would be pointless. They’d talked endlessly in the void, with Tommy bitching every moment he could about how unfair his life had become. Wilbur knows him far too well.

“No,” Tommy finally mutters, turning away. “I’m not happy, but you knew that.”

“Is there anyone, any single person you trust and want to go back to?”

Tommy thinks of Tubbo, then of Puffy. He and Tubbo are still too awkward around each other, not having had a proper conversation since the final showdown with Dream. Sure they’d spoken a few times, but nothing deeper than arguments over where to live.

Puffy had made some promises, but he doesn’t know her from Sam, and Sam had broken his promise completely. With his shoulders slumping, Tommy shakes his head. Everything about this conversation is fucked up, and they both know it.

“Are you afraid of me?” Wilbur’s not ending his line of questioning anytime soon. This is the one question Tommy doesn’t really want to answer.

“Yes.”

“I see.” Wilbur falls silent as he turns away, going back to the task of gathering sand into his own backpack. The silence stretches between them, and Tommy feels it like a cold sweat on his back. It’s just as piercing as Wilbur’s questions, just as numbing as the afterlife. Silent, too, if the ringing in his ears is anything to go by. Even the lapping of the waves isn’t enough to snap him back to reality.

“Do you remember when we were younger?” Wilbur finally asks. The silence doesn’t snap Tommy back, but Wilbur’s voice does. Always a source of calm, always there to keep him grounded. It’s aggravating, this effect Wilbur has over him. Annoying and comforting at the same time.

“I don’t remember much anymore, Wilbur,” Tommy responds. “I remember wars and death and everything I worked for going up in smoke.”

“You don’t remember you and me?” Wilbur’s facing him again, wearing that ugly serene smile on his face. “You don’t remember how I used to read to you?”

“Vaguely.” It’s a dismissive answer, because Tommy wants to squash anything friendly out of his mind. The less he associates with Wilbur, the sooner they can end this game and he can go back home to his dirt house. “That was a long time ago, Wil.”

“It was our favorite activity.” Wilbur actually sounds sad. Tommy can’t tell if it’s acting or genuine, but he’s being drawn in anyway. Part of him wants to throw his arms around Wilbur and comfort him. A strong, loud part of him is already moving closer.

“I remember our favorite book was ‘The Hobbit’,” Wilbur continues. “I also read the Lord of the Rings trilogy to you a couple of times. You were so cute, hanging on every word. Simple times, Tommy. The best times.”

“I don’t have any best times,” Tommy snaps. “Like I said, I remember lots of wars. Lots of fighting and people dying. You died. I died, and now you kidnapped me. Why are you trying to butter me up? Wilbur this is so fucked.”

“I know. I messed up Toms. I messed up so many times, especially with you. Even now, I know what I did was cruel and stupid. I promise, if you give me one more chance, I’ll make it all up to you. No more pain, no more agony. You’ll have a support system-”

“Do I have to remind you of Dream?” Tommy snarls. His voice cracks as he speaks. “He’s the one who fucking killed me, remember? He had me exiled, he tortured me. And you come in like you know exactly what all took place!”

“Tommy I was dead. Had I been able to stop him, I would have. You know I would never condone anyone hurting you. I don’t like that you’ve been hurt the way you have been. I hate it more than anyone, trust me!”

“You still died and left me alone. If you weren’t so selfish, neither of us would be in this position! My life went to shit ever since you died, you don’t get to stand there and tell me you hate it.”

“I wasn’t good for the server. I wasn’t good for you. I thought that if I was gone, things for you would improve. I thought you would’ve won, that Dream wouldn’t have hurt you, or that your friendships would be strained.”

“Stop, stop!” This is embarrassing. Tommy’s crying, standing there in front of Wilbur and sounding like a petulant child. “Stop talking! Stop making me relive everything, okay? You weren’t there, you don’t get to act like you know what happened. It was shit. Everything was shit, everything is still fucking garbage, and now I’m stuck living with the one person who hurt me, thanks to you.”

“Toms. My Tommy...” Wilbur has tears of his own in his eyes. With his shovel falling into the sand, he gathers Tommy in his arms. Tommy doesn’t resist, because everything about this hug means something. It’s an actual, loving hug, and not a ploy at manipulation. He can feel it in the way Wilbur is holding him, rocking bath and forth with tiny hiccups. “Tommy I’m so sorry I hurt you. I’m so sorry you were hurt and cast aside by everyone. I’m here now, alright? It’ll be me and you, just like it’s always been.”

Tommy sniffles as he leans into Wilbur. He’s not returning the embrace, but Wilbur feels so warm. It’s been so long since anyone had hugged him like this, or just loved him. He wants to savor this feeling.

“All your long years we’ve been friends,” Wilbur whispers. “Trust me as you once did.”

“You want me to let it all go?” Tommy finally wraps his arms around Wilbur. “I don’t even know what to let go of.”

“All the pain, Tommy. “All the pain, trauma, abuse. All your attachments. Even the memories. With us, you won’t hurt anymore. Dream won’t touch you, and Ranboo is your friend. I’ll be your brother, okay?”

“...let it all go...” Tommy relaxes more into Wilbur’s embrace. Slowly, his arms come up to rest against Wilbur’s back. “Let everything I had go, right?”

“I’m here again. I won’t leave you. I promise you Toms. Tommyinnit, gremlin child. Vice President, and my best friend, brother...”

“Don’t overdo it now,” Tommy jokes under his breath. It earns a chuckle from both of them. The laughter helps him feel normal, like maybe everything really will be okay. This doesn’t feel like an indoctrination, really. Wilbur isn’t evil. Maybe he’s got some misguided beliefs, but Tommy missed him. There’s no one that can fill the void in his heart like Wilbur can.

“Point is, it’s you and me against the world,” Wilbur continues. “We won’t count the other two yet, so we’ll stick with just us, alright? When all this is over, I’ll read to you again. Any book of your choosing.”

“Will you read me The Hobbit again?“ Tommy pulls back enough to blink slowly at Wilbur. His vision is still wet with tears, but he’s cheering up. “And maybe we can watch the movies together?”

“Absolutely. Anything for you, alright?”

“Then I trust you.”

“And?”

“And...I’ll stay by your side.” Tommy nods.

There are matching sighs from the pair, with them looking awkwardly at each other for a moment. Then, with a blush, Tommy picks up his shovel again and preparing to dig up more sand.

“I still don’t get why we have to do this,” Tommy grumbles.”

“Tell you what, after we get back to the cabin, I’ll let you blow up the surrounding area. You’ve earned yourself a few explosions to vent your anger.”

His excitement is barely contained, with him moving faster and shoveling even more dirt. Okay, the situation as a whole might still be fucked, but Tommy can’t resist playing with fire. As a treat.

Call of the Ocean Chapter 3: Don’t Want to Be Queen

Pairing: CEO!Mechanic!Dean Winchester x Mermaid!Reader

Word count: 4244

Chapter summary: Y/N visits the surface once more, only this time she’s not alone. She learns a bit more about the human world and about who will be competing for her hand at the tournament.

Series summary: CEO of Winchester Auto Dean Winchester has had enough of the office life. With his father keeping him from what he wants to do, which is work on the plant floor, Dean decides to leave for a quiet life. In Matagorda, Texas, he finds something he never thought he would, a chance encounter with a mythical creature.

Call of the Ocean Masterlist

A/N: Chapter 4 will be posted on August 26th (this Wednesday). This series is a collaboration with @flamencodiva​ Text dividers were made by the awesome @talesmaniac89​

Y/N swam through the secret door, looking around at all the different shelves filled with scrolls. 

She found herself letting her fingers graze through each one. Her eyes darted through the room… She had never seen any of this. The paintings, the ancient-looking and not-so-ancient-looking scrolls, even a couple of objects she didn’t even know existed. She marveled at the way they were organized and froze when one caught her eye. 

“The humans and the world around them,” she read the title softly. “Wonder what this one is about.” 

Reaching for it, she opened it. There on the parchment the words seemed to come alive. Pictures seemed to dance around her as she read the words on the page. 

“Human females cover all of their parts,” she read. “A human female has never shown her skin to a male.” Y/N raised an eyebrow at the scroll before tilting her head. “That’s not what I saw when I was up there.” she tilted her head at the words on the scroll. 

When she looked up from the waves, she remembered seeing the human girls showing skin. They used some very small clothing… perhaps the scholar who wrote this scroll had gotten something wrong. 

“Maybe I should look at another scroll,” Y/N rolled up the current scroll she was reading and placed it back. She traced her fingers over a couple more of the scrolls, and decided to take a less older-looking one.

In this scroll she tilted her head at the garbage and filth that lay on the beaches. She frowned at the thought. How could they destroy something so beautiful? As she continued to read, she found a description of other humans who cleaned up the beach. Of those who fought for the sea creatures. A smile graced her lips as she envisioned humans fighting to protect the ocean. 

She realized, humans were just like mermaids. Not everyone was the same, not everyone was kind. She cheered silently at the thought and hoped that the green-eyed man was a kind human. Moving on to the next part of the scroll, she noticed a difference in the way they dressed. The women seemed to be showing skin and the men had long hair and were bare chested. She even took note of the different colors of the human skin. Some were dark, other lights, and some had flowers on them! As she continued looking over the scroll, she noticed the women covering their legs and tops with decorative things.  

Much of what Y/N saw made her smile. The clothing looked similar to what many of the humans she saw would wear. It was colorful and vibrant and they were all happy to be out enjoying life. She read about the music and wished that she could hear what it sounded like. 

“Well that sounds more like what I saw up there,” Y/N thought to herself out loud. 

A couple hours and several scrolls of human life later, Y/N swam around the palace. She watched as many of the merpeople were decorating the halls. With her birthday coming up in two weeks, the arrangements for the celebration were beginning and while she was excited, she was scared of what her father would do. It wasn’t long until she found her way to the ballroom’s balcony, overlooking the kingdom. She leaned on the banister and sighed, her thoughts on the human who seemed sad. She wanted to head back to him and show herself, maybe make him happy. 

 “Let it go, Y/N.” Thasman swam up next to her and rolled his eyes.  

“Huh?” she came out of her daydream and looked at him. 

“Whatever you saw up there, whatever you’re thinking about, just let it go. Your place is here, with our people, not up there in the human world.” Thasman placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and looked into her eyes. 

“Thasman…” Y/N sighed, “I can’t stop thinking about him. You know that, I know that.” she gently took his hand off her shoulder and turned to face the ballroom. “If you would have seen him, you would know that I want to help him.” 

 “Believe me, it is very clear that you want to help him,” Thasman reassured her, “but how exactly would you do that, huh? How would you even show yourself to him? You can’t tell him what you are, he can’t exactly breathe underwater, and what if he decides that you can bring him wealth and fame showing you off to the other humans?” the merman took a deep breath, trying to keep all those awful thoughts at bay, “We can’t afford to lose you. I am not going to lose my friend like that.”

“I know… but,” she took in a deep breath, “I want to at least try. I just want to be his friend… you know what our people can do, Thasman. It’s only because of my father's decree that we don’t do it,” she looked down at her tail. “I have an Idea.” 

 “You’re not going up there,” Thasman clarified. “No way. No. Whatever you’re thinking, stop. You’ll get us in trouble.”

“If you come with me you can protect me,” she sang as she began to swim away from the palace. “As my personal guard, it is your duty after all.”

Thasman swore in mermish, exasperated by what was most likely about to happen “I hate you, you know? Wait- wait dammit! Don’t swim too fast! If you’re gonna go up there, you stay close so I can keep an eye on you, are we clear?”

“I’ll race you!” she laughed as she moved her way towards an ocean current. “Can’t catch me, Thas!” 

At the same time, Y/N laughed as she barrel rolled along the current. She loved that she would try out being on the surface. Looking back she smiled at Thasman. 

“Why are you swimming like a sea snail?” she called back to him. 

“You take that back! I’m swimming just as fast as you are!” Thasman huffed as he pushed faster. 

“Nope, you are swimming like a sea snail,” she giggled and faced her back to the ocean floor swimming backwards, “if you were swimming as fast as me you’d be in front of me.” 

“Whatever! What do you even want to do on the surface anyway?!” He protested.

“You’ll see!” she called back as she adjusted her sea skirt. Really it was made of cloth that ended up on the bottom of the ocean floor from shipwrecks. 

Eventually, they reached the reef, and Y/N looked around for anything suspicious before swimming towards the shore. Closing her eyes, she carefully made her way up to the water's surface and smiled. There was no one on the beach and it was perfect for exploring. As she reached the sand she used her arms to crawl deeper into the shore. When she was far enough away she could feel her scales dry out. She watched as they shimmered and began to disappear, her fins forming feet and she squealed with delight.  

“Thasman, look!” she exclaimed as she wiggled the weird forms at the end of her legs. Thasman wasn’t far behind her, his own fin disappearing and giving way to the strange forms humans have.

“I am looking! We should head back. This is not a good idea, Y/N! Some humans could see us here!” Thasman looked around nervously. 

“Oh don’t be a guppy!” she called back as she tried to stand up. Her knees felt weak and she tried to balance on them. “How do humans do this all the time?” she sighed as she grabbed onto a rock to stabilize herself. 

“They’re humans. Nothing makes sense when it comes to them. They’re strange and stupid and extremely dangerous all at the same time,” Thasman complained as he too tried to get some balance on his new human form while reaching out to try and help Y/N, “now, what is your plan, huh? Why on Poseidon’s blue ocean would we come up here now?” 

She pointed to Dean’s house, “I want to take a closer look at their dwellings.” She placed her hand out to her sides as she moved her new form slowly, “It’s fascinating.” 

“It’s stupid,” grumbled Thasman, trying to stay as close to Y/N as possible to try and protect her in case of any danger. Even in the dim moonlight, Y/N could see his face lose color as realisation came over him. “You actually want to go inside, don’t you? You’re completely insane!”

“I just want to understand it. How does it work? How do you get in?” She used her hands to help herself up the stairs. She looked like a toddler crawling up the wooden stairs leading up to the door. Once on the landing, she balanced herself again and placed her hand on the door. “This is strange. What is this?” she let her hands roam across the glass and wood. 

However, before she could even try to grasp the door knob, Thasman took hold of her wrist and put her behind him.

“If we are going to go inside this place, you go behind me, is that clear? If something goes wrong here, you go back, ok?” Thasman smiled. 

Y/N rolled her eyes annoyed with him, “I can handle myself. But if it makes you happy I will stay behind you.” She sighed. 

Thasman examined the strange object that denied them entrance. He then gazed at the round object that poked out of it and touched it hesitantly. He jumped when a cold sensation hit him. Tilting his head he looked back at Y/N and rolled his eyes when she urged him to do something. Thasman took in a deep breath and pushed in the door knob… nothing happened. Thasman tilted his head and placed his palm on the knob, pushing it again. Y/N thought back to when she watched the male human who lived here and smiled. 

“You’re doing it wrong,” she sang as she reached past Thasman and wrapped her fingers around the round thing and twisted it. While the strange object made a noise, it would not move. “I guess there is more to it... look,” she pointed to the keyhole. “What is that?” 

“I don’t know,” Thasman replied, “not human, remember?”

Y/N rolled her eyes again. “I know that, Thas,” she sighed, “I guess there is nothing else we can do. But, one day I want to go inside and explore… look… you can see inside at all the trinkets. I wonder what they all do.” she pressed her face against the glass and tried to get a good look at everything. 

“Yeah, sure, you’ll get a chance to stalk the human later, Y/N, I promise” Thasman jokes. “Seriously, though, if you come here, don’t come alone, ok? You look for me and then we come here. You need to stay safe.”

“I promise,” Y/N dismissed him as she pulled back. “We should get back home before Father begins to send out guards to look for me. If he asks, we went to the caves to look for more seaurchines.” she slowly made her way down the stairs and back to the seashore. As she got deeper into the water, she could feel her legs turning back into her fin. Thasman followed as quickly as he could as they both swam back towards the palace. 

Y/N and Thasman made it back in record time. Y/N giggled as she swam down the corridor and towards the east wing of the underwater palace. Thasman followed closely behind her. 

"Y/N," he caught up to here, "where are we going?" 

"The room of ancient texts," she replied cheerfully. 

"Wait? What’s that?" Thasman looked at her. 

“Only a secret hidden room I found in the archives,” Y/N smiled as she swam towards the archive. 

“Wait, what!?” Thasman caught up to her and swam before her. “A secret archive? How did you find it? I thought only scholars had knowledge of a secret archive?”  

"I'm sorry… It sounds like you are saying that I am not capable of being a princess AND a scholar. Did you forget who my tutor is Thasman?" She turned to face him, shutting him down with an angry glare. 

“I didn’t mean…” He sighed. “Why do I let you talk me into these things Y/N?” He saw the smirk on her face.

“Come on,” she made her way to the archives and pushed the large intricate coral door. “Liara? Are you here?” Y/N made her way through the aisles of shelves stacked with scrolls. 

“What brings you here, my child?” Liara said as she arose from her seat.

“I want to read anything we have about the surface world,” she leaned in and smiled. “I know we have some, father likes to think that they were destroyed but… I may have seen you come out of a secret room? A room filled with scrolls about humans…? ” Y/N shrugged innocently. 

 “What?! The amount of problems I would have if I even had such a section, or to make things worse, show it to you, would be huge!” The scholar looked to Y/N as if she was crazy. 

“Please Liara? I really need to learn more about the world beyond the waves,” she pleaded with her tutor, “You always said an absence of knowledge can lead to ignorance,” she folded her hands and pouted her lips. 

 “I never thought I would regret saying that to you…” Liara rolled her eyes at the young princess, a tingle of amusement present in her eyes. The scholar seemed to entertain the idea before getting serious “What I’m about to do never happened, do I make myself clear?”

“Thank you!” Y/N breathed as she gave Thasman a satisfied smile, “See, we can learn more and read up on the human world.” She followed Liara to a dark corner of the archives. 

“Y/N, we shouldn’t be reading any of this,” he whispered as they followed Liara into a secluded section. 

“You have nothing to fear, Thasman,” Liara drawled, “Much of the text does outline the dangers that humans possess. But it also gives us information on their world and how they do things.” 

“But Liara,” Thasman interjected, “she doesn’t understand that humans are dangerous, more dangerous than friendly.” 

“I am not a jellyfish!” Y/N growled, “I am not naive but I am also not going to be closed minded and filet all humans for the actions of the few!” she glared at Thasman. 

“I really don’t believe that your interest for one lonely human is worth risking Liara’s, yours, and my safety. You know the consequences for all this, Y/N/N.” The merman sassed. 

“What human?” Liara asked Thasman. “Y/N what is he talking about?” she crossed her arms looking at the two. 

“Nothing,” Y/N avoided looking at her tutor and the closest thing she had to a mother. 

“When it comes to you, sweetshell, it’s never nothing,” Liara smiled kindly, before looking back at Thasman. “So tell me, what human?”

“Well, he has a dwelling close to the shore and,” Y/N blushed, “he’s handsome, but he looks so sad, Liara. I want to help him and comfort him, be his friend.” 

“It’s ludicrous and dangerous, Y/N/N,” Thasman pointed out, again.

“But he isn’t, I can tell. There is a kindness to him,” she looked to Liana, “I want to be able to meet him and know of humans before I mess up anything.” 

Liara nodded, seemingly understanding the young princess. “Alright,” she said, “if you really think so, alright then.” The scholar’s answer left Thasman with his jaw hanging open. He really was expecting his guardian to put an end to the Princess’ crazy plan of getting closer to the human, not encouraging it. 

Liara led them through another turn, and stopped in front of the painting Y/N had seen before. Thasman and Y/N watched as she pressed her fingers onto the painting and a small click could be heard. A secret door opened up as Thasman’s jaw dropped. 

“I— This— How?” Thasman followed the two merwomen inside the secret room. 

“I read about some strange time and there were strange customs,” Y/N whispered as she let her fingers graze over a scroll with intricate gold writing. 

“Yes, well this one,” — Liara reached for a scroll — “ tells us about their differences,” Liara pointed to the diagrams. “As you can see they have different shapes and sizes as well as different colors on their skin, like us.” 

“So they are different, just like the differences of our tail colors?” Y/N said as she tilted her head at the different human depictions. 

“Well I think they are more like our top halves than our tails, your highness,” Liara offered her a smile. “See here. You see the bone structure of a human.” 

Thasman watched as Y/N poured over the rest of the scroll. She seemed to be studying it intently.  The young warrior found another scroll and looked at it. This one depicted the different tools the humans would use. 

“It says they have a small trident that they use as a way to comb their hair?” he raised his eyebrow at the notion. “That doesn’t sound right?”   

“And how would you know?” Y/N looked at him. 

“It just seems… impractical, is all” The merman shrugged.

“Oh,” she whispered as she looked at the scroll. She noticed the different ways that the humans were positioned. “Liara, what are they talking about in this one? What is d-da-dancing?” 

“Humans like to… move their bodies to a certain rhythm. Sometimes alone, sometimes with a partner, sometimes with several… they do it when they’re happy” Liara explained.

“How does it work?” Y/N looked at the pictures and traced her fingers over them. 

“I don’t believe that even they understand how it works… think of it like how we move to the music shells, we use our fins to move around one another… well, humans use their legs,” Liara explained. 

With Liara there with them, things weren’t so difficult to understand when it came to humans. Eventually, she ushered them out of the room, uncomfortable at the thought of the King discovering what the Princess was doing.  

“Y/N?! Has anyone seen the princess?” Nereus’s voice echoed along the corridor. 

Y/N grabbed a scroll on the ancient Mermish rituals while Thasman grabbed one on fighting techniques. Liara sighed in relief, thankful that she had closed the door to the archive. When the king entered, she bowed her head.  

“Ah,” Nereus smiled when he saw Y/N, “glad to see you are here and nowhere near the surface. And with Thasman! That is excellent.”  

“Your Highness” Thasman bowed, “has something happened?”

“On the contrary. I’m making sure that the arrangements are going well. I was planning on giving a visit to the potential competitors… I thought you would be training by now, Thasman”

Y/N looked at Thasman. He never mentioned he was a potential suitor. She felt hurt and angry. How could her best friend keep this from her? Thasman was looking at her father in surprise, and then turned around to look at her, pleading and nervous. 

“Let me explain, Y/N-” 

The princess glared at him before swimming away angrily. She ignored his calls as she swam off to her favorite hiding spot, one that she had not been at for a long time. She found a cozy spot close to the cave wall. She felt a sadness in her heart. She didn’t want to be queen. And now Thasman was one of the mermen fighting to be her king. How could he not tell her about this? How could he betray her this way? 

“Y/N, talk to me please” Thasman’s voice echoed across the cave. He swam slowly, getting closer and closer until he was just beside her.

“Go away,” she whispered. Her tail curled up as she wrapped her arms around it laying her head on top. 

She could feel his eyes on her as she turned away from him. She couldn’t face Thasman. 

“Please, listen to me. It’s not what you’re thinking. I promise, Y/N, just let me- just listen to me, and if you want me to leave I’ll- wait no screw that I’m not leaving, but you can ignore me all you want. Huh?”

Y/N turned her back to him, “you’re a liar. Let me guess,” she sneered. “All you wanted was to cater to my silliness. You just came to the human dwelling to make fun of me.” she turned and glared at him. “You know I don’t want to be queen. It won’t make me happy, Thasman. I don’t want this life!” 

“And it will be even more miserable if you are forced to marry a slippery eel who just happened to win a stupid competition to be King” Thasman snapped. “Y/N I don’t love you that way, but I just thought that you would rather have a friend by your side on your coronation day instead of some merman who is not going to care enough about you or the kingdom…” Thasman placed his hand gently on her face. “Your Highness, think about it. You can’t be Queen without a husband, and let’s face it, I’m most likely the best outcome of an awful situation”

“Thasman,” Y/N shook her head as she moved his hand from her cheek. “I am not going to be at my coronation.” 

“But you can’t do that!” He insisted, “The kingdom needs you! You know how everything works– or- or at least most of it. You can’t just turn your back on everything— “ 

“I DON’T WANT IT!” she screamed. “All my life I was groomed to be queen and all I wanted was to go to the surface and live there. Something is calling me there. Thasman, I don’t want this! And for what it’s worth, I think you would make a great king,” she caressed his cheek. “But not with me by your side.” 

Thasman sighed, unsure of how to proceed without making Y/N shut him out. After a moment, he just gave her a resigned look. “I know you don’t want this, Y/N/N, but come on. Your- You-” Thasman ran a hand across his face before pulling Y/N in for a hug. “I’ve met some of the other suitors, and trust me, you won’t exactly be excited to meet most of them.” He ran his fingers through her hair as it flowed with the current. “I know how the kingdom sees you. I know you would rather leave, but if you left, you would be signing this kingdom’s doom. I’m not suited to be a king, but what I can do is be there for my friend.”

“How does the kingdom see me?” Y/N whispered. “Do they think I'm naive? Or incapable of ruling? Because they’re right. I can’t do this Thasman. I don’t belong here.” 

“How could you not belong here?” he gave her an incredulous look filled with exasperation, “Y/N, the kingdom may think a lot about their Princess, but they do have faith in you. Look at you! Just the way you think about humans could change some things around here for the greater good!” He gave her a small smile.  “Even though sometimes your ideas do scare me…” He chuckled while holding her face in his hands. “Everyone believes you can do it. And the few who don’t are the ones who want to run this kingdom to the bottom of the Trench.” his eyes gazed into hers before he closed them taking in a deep ocean breath. “I’m not telling you not to be scared, I’m not going to tell you to suck it up. I’m doing what I’m doing because I know you can be an amazing Queen… Because when you get married, you deserve to have a friend up there with you. And not some stranger who saw you as a prize.”

Y/N let out a gasp as she felt his lips on her forehead. She could feel her heat pound in her chest at the gesture. But she wasn’t sure what was going on. She knew she liked the green-eyed human. He haunted her dreams. But now, here was Thasman, trying to protect her, even knowing that she didn’t want this kind of life. 

“Thasman…” she whispered gazing into his eyes. 

“Let’s go to the palace, your Highness,” he mumbled before pulling away from her. “We don’t need your father worrying about you. And I need to train.” 

Y/N watched as he swam away, before following after. Their swim to the palace was filled with silence as he led her to her room. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Y— Princess,” he kissed her cheek before swimming off. 

Y/N watched as he disappeared around the corner just as she closed the door to her room. Maybe, she hoped, tomorrow things will not seem so complicated.

Any and all types of feedback is greatly appreciated :D

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so let’s talk about the kindergarten amino. 

there are issues we need to address like grown ups, which some certain people refuse to do.

i’m not gonna lie, i avoided getting amino for the longest time because i am aware of how much of a festering cesspool of toxicity it is there. it’s terrifying, how shitty people can be on there honestly. the community?  garbage. absolute garbage, and despite not having an account there i personally know my friends have been affected by the utter bullshit that goes on in there.

sure, i know many of the wonderful creators there, good friends who mean the world to me, and amazing talented mutuals of mine spanning multiple social media platforms who are on the amino as well. good people exist. but so do the bad ones, and it seems on amino specifically, the bad people are more prevalent there.

it’s kind of really stupid, how much of a horrible place that app is, and yet the kindergarten communities i’ve personally witnessed on tumblr, discord, instagram-- are so much kinder, supportive and not at all what a certain mod team describes. 

how curious! it’s almost as if the behaviour you allow freely in a community breeds likeminded people in that community! :) mindblowing, isn’t it?

on that topic. the kindergarten amino mods. 

according to the oxford dictionary1, a moderator is defined as being 1. a person whose job is to help people or groups who disagree to reach an agreement ;  4. ​a person who is responsible for preventing offensive material from being published on a website. 

notice how none of these definitions say anything about uhhhhh “talking like a simp” lmao? 

like what they said to a friend of mine who asked why she didn’t get the mod position she applied for and when she asked what was “wrong” with the way she spoke to people when they answered her, case in point:

:)

under the cut, here are the requirements for how a kga mod is supposedly obligated to speak to people, straight from the mod team themselves (and how the above and below are incredibly unfitting for someone supposedly in a moderator’s position):

the above images are the message that came before the first screenshot from the convo from my friend shown above the cut. now, let me point out the issues with this list. the 1st definition of “moderator” portrays a mod as helping two parties reach an agreement with one another after an argument. the 4th definition of “moderator” is someone who is responsible for preventing offensive material from being published on a website (in this case, app)

“talk casual” is not applicable to these definitions. this has little to no relation to how a mod may mediate a situation, but there are a few conceivable pros and cons.

pros: both parties in an argument may find them easier to talk to, and might understand each other’s points better when explained in terms that come off as relaxed and not like a serious adult wagging their finger at a child. 

cons: the exact opposite might happen due to the fact they will sound less professional and may be taken less seriously, and there is no guaranteed way the two parties in question will interpret the mod’s efforts in either a good or bad way. 

in conclusion, speaking casually to someone as a mod is not important nor does it affect how the actual act of moderation occurs. “speak respectfully” is the phrase you’re looking for, kga mods. it doesn’t matter how formal or casual you are, as long as you’re not straight up being a dick to anyone.

“try to make negatives sound neutral” is, in other words, deliberately wording a situation to avoid taking one specific side of an argument. --the issue with this, is that there are some situations that are rooted in facts, and you cannot change a negative fact to “make it sound neutral” because it exists in reality as a negative fact no matter what you think or how you try to convince yourself otherwise. there are cases where one person is wrong and one person is right, and that is the end of that. there are cases where it doesn’t matter what the user’s intent behind their actions were; well-meaning or not, if they did something wrong, they did something wrong. tell them what they did wrong, issue a warning, let them apologize and move on if they won’t do it again. if they’re a repeat offender, take the appropriate actions for the situation and deal with it responsibly as the person in the authoritative position. end of story.

there are differences between petty arguments (eg. who is the “best” character), and serious matters that should be dealt in a serious way (eg. art theft, rape jokes, bullying). nothing in this world is completely black and white, but there is a clear difference between what will harm a person, and what will not; what is good for the sake of a community, and what isn’t. and frankly, if you think you can dispute that and take a neutral side on urgent issues anyway, you are incredibly mistaken. 

this can be a tactic used for de-escalation, absolutely, and for making sure you aren’t inserting your personal opinions into the argument by looking at it from an objective point of view. but it is not fit for every situation, and the fact that it’s listed as “one of the ways a mod is supposed to talk to people” puts it in a checklist for the “standard” of how they should speak, which therefore implies that a mod needs to “try” to use it in every situation possible. instead of, you know, judging the situation and reacting accordingly rather than going a roundabout way that doesn’t go straight to solving the actual issue between users. i would count that specific point as bad wording on their part, but my point for all of this still stands regardless.

“be patient” does play an important part of handling arguments between two people, i will agree with that. it’s advisable to be the calm, rational one when dealing with two people whose emotions are influencing them to only see their side and no one else’s. that’s only assuming the situation isn’t as serious as other ones may be, however, and that there are multiple sides to the argument at all. 

of course this isn’t the case for other things that are much worse, and if we recall the 4th definition of a moderator in modern, internet-associated terms, it is the mod’s duty to prevent offensive, harmful material from being posted on a website. not everything can be solved with patience and talking things out when someone is breaking the rules. a moderator also needs to be able to put their foot down when needed, and take action especially in the case that the mod isn’t actually being listened to.

as a person being confronted by a mod, it’s easy to say you agree and won’t do it again but you’ll just do it again anyway. which is why punishment, repercussions, consequences (banning, reporting, etc) are put in place to prevent these things from happening. relying only on talking things out cannot and will not stop people from doing what they want, if they don’t listen and have no desire to change for the better.

“try to make your users comfortable while talking to you” is not applicable in every situation either. of course it’s important to ensure you are respected as a mod, and that you are respectful towards other people as well. it’s nice to have a friendly disposition when talking to people, so they aren’t intimidated or scared of you, or think you’re stuck up or unlikable or mean and whatever else. 

but in the end, it doesn’t really matter what everyone thinks of you, whether you’re a mod or not. not everyone will like you at any given point, ever. that’s just a fact of life. what matters as a mod, is doing your job properly. the way others see you is a factor in it, sure, but as a mod you will always inherently be someone who some others are a little jumpy when talking to you. but most people also don’t have any reason to be uncomfortable if they aren’t doing anything wrong in the first place. if they’re hurting people and being toxic, it doesn’t matter how comfortable they are when talking to you.

in addition, it’s possible to be amicable while also being firm and direct about moderation work. and it is also possible to separate how you speak in a friendly conversation with someone, compared to speaking to someone who has seriously messed up and broken the rules. 

“smiley face trademarked” this straight up has nothing to do with being a mod. it’s just a typing quirk. it’s not important to what makes someone a mod. it also is typically used for passive aggressiveness so. if the kga staff wants to come off to their community that way, i am not fishing out the one (1) radioactive shoe in the sewers that is the kindergarten amino. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

“de-escalate situations or try to stay calm” does fit exactly with what i was talking about earlier. this is the 1st definition of moderators, and essentially is part of their job. i legitimately don’t have objections to this, that haven’t already been said, because it is a mod’s job to keep the peace between the people in an online community.

this message came after the list they provided, before the screenshot of my friend asking if her not sugarcoating things was the issue. for context, she had challenged their authority before this instance, and critiqued the way the mods would usually handle situations. in that, they don’t actually handle the situation and would opt for “being a simp” rather than solving the issue. (keeping this in mind, it’s hard not to suspect they rejected her because of past hostility against her for speaking her mind before this.)

it’s not hard to change the way you speak according to the situation. you don’t talk to the principal (or your boss if you’re older), the same way you would talk to your best friend, or the way you would talk to a sibling, and you don’t speak to a stranger on the street, or significant other in any of those ways too. 

it doesn’t matter how she spoke when she critiqued the mods. the way she spoke for that occasion was appropriate for the topic, and does not in any way correlate or give any indication to how she would speak to a general person if she was in a mod position.

it doesn’t matter about how “relatable” you are as a mod either. that has nothing to do with moderation and does not make you do your job any better or any less than someone who “isn’t relatable” whatever the fuck that means. 

a teacher can be relatable all they want, but they can and will get booted from their job if they’re, y’know, not actually doing their job; aka teaching. a teacher can teach without being engaging in any way for the students at all, and that arguably isn’t good either, but the difference is, as much as the students may not like it, that’s not a requirement for their job, hence why a teacher would not get fired for being boring but still getting information through to their students, but a teacher would get fired for not teaching no matter how fun, relatable, or friendly they are. 

the power a mod has is supposed to be used to moderate, while “being relatable” is not needed, even though it can be beneficial, to actually do your job properly.

ah yes, this screenshot again. urban dictionary’s 1st definition of “simp” is:  Someone who will say anything to please someone, particularly a girl, in the hopes that they will be in good favor with that person.

and that really speaks for itself why simps are unfit to be in a moderator position. essentially, they are suck ups. fakes. they will, by this definition, say anything to win the good graces of other people, to win approval, and make people like them. --and as i mentioned before, this is not the job of a mod in any way, shape or form.

it is not beneficial for a mod to suck up to someone who is breaking the rules and hurting others. it doesn’t matter what the community’s opinion is of how likable a mod is; the mod is the person in a position of power, and it is their job to make sure no one is breaking the rules or posting anything harmful to others or to the community. that has nothing to do with popularity contests.

and, this shows how these mods handle situations if they “talk like a simp” to the perpetrators. it’s a substantial reason why this mod team doesn’t actually get their work done if this is the way they speak to people. to talk in this manner means they are not really telling the perpetrators what they’re doing wrong and trying to get them to stop, but are rather encouraging and enabling them to keep doing terrible things because of the fact that “it will please them, and that person will think good of the mods”

--another point i should talk about, is the “we have to be kind and try to understand” part of what they said. 

according to one of my friends, some people in the kga mod team are over 18?? i don’t know if this is true, and i don’t really care. but if it is, maybe fucking act like it lmao. if you really are adults-- even some young teenagers already know this-- but you should already know it is completely possible to be kind and polite to someone while disagreeing with them and telling them they are wrong and what they did is wrong. 

it’s word choice. there is a deliberate difference between choosing to type “wow you’re so stupid, don’t you know you’re not allowed to post this? delete it, dipshit” and “hey there! this post doesn’t fit the posting guidelines, so please take this down. thanks!” 

there’s also a neat little thing where a person can understand why a person did something and the reasons why they think something is right, looking at an opinion that is not their own and the contexts for why other people may think that way-- but still realize that it’s fundamentally wrong and they shouldn’t do that anyway! it’s called critical thinking. it comes with the experience of growing up, which, doesn’t necessarily correlate to how old a person is. 

so even if the mods are adults, they have no excuse for not being able to connect saying things in a kind way while also being firm about moderating and doing their job without being a doormat. 

we, as adults, are supposed to be the responsible ones when dealing with minors, and mods are the designated responsible ones over every member of an online community by proxy. by now, you should have learned these things. but i will acknowledge that not all people may be mentally capable of thinking and speaking this way as easily as others. and that’s fine and dandy and doesn’t make them a bad person-- but that also means they should not be mods in the first place if they can’t deal with things objectively but respectfully and kind at the same time.

--kinda funny how that screenshot under the simp screenshot practically agrees with that notion, huh!

( plus the fact those under 13 are not allowed to use amino in the first fucking place, yet they allow a fucking 12 year old to join without doing anything about it?? children should not be on that app until they’re old enough. it’s detrimental to them and everyone around them, and unsafe for them especially. i’m pretty sure more than two people are aware of this incident, and the fact the mods did nothing about it? pure incompetence. )

^ she put it pretty well in her own words too.

and now onto this bullshit. i, on the other hand do not personally know these people on the kga mod team, but i do not care for their opinions on me considering i don’t know them and do not care for the amino community-- nor do i have the obligation to suspend my belief on whether they truly are lovely people or not. 

they allowed my friends to get hurt, everything i’ve seen from them is incompetence, and frankly, the simp one especially made me actively lose braincells trying to comprehend that any human on this planet thinks that is a legitimate, reasonable response to anyone in any situation. if it was a joke, it is their fault for putting a poorly placed joke in the middle of a serious conversation. if it wasn’t a joke, i really cannot fathom how anyone believes that is an intelligent or beneficial way to talk to people while moderating.

anyway. that response of theirs? that passive aggressive “don’t say thank you when you hate us :)” while disregarding literally everything else my friend said is incredibly childish on the mod’s part. i have legitimate trouble believing anyone but a child is typing these arguments, and i’m not saying this to be mean, but i seriously cannot imagine with every single one of my synapses, that an adult would make such a halfassed “argument” like that.

on the other hand, twitter drama exists. so. perhaps i can believe there are adults who can’t communicate properly.

either way, their true age has no relation to the immature behaviour they show throughout this conversation. child or not, adult or not, they are still being unreasonable and immature and the bottom line is that these people really shouldn’t be mods.

“the next message probably isn’t me so like don’t blame kga staff” that really does not sound like anything but an excuse to say whatever you want without actually owning up to your actions. 

a friend when i was 11 would say shitty things to me and then say “omg i’m soooo sorry that wasn’t me, my cousin used my computer!!” and that sounds just like that imo. 

i will give the benefit of the doubt for this one assuming multiple mods are using that account(?) but the “don’t blame kga staff” makes zero sense, like my friend says. if someone from your mod team says something, it means you all either agree with it (especially considering it seems you only let people like yourself and not anyone with varied opinions become mods) or you would have to retract the statement as a team and own up to what your actual opinions are. you can have individual opinions as individual mods, but i’m pretty sure that if you say things as the kga staff as a whole, it must be assumed those opinions are at least shared with most if not all members.

there are problems involving the kga staff. of course the entire kga staff will be blamed, no matter who the individual was, for causing problems in the first place.

“abrasive and downright impulsive” buddy, you and your little mod posse have had these issues spanning several months, according to my friends. there’s nothing impulsive about poking the hornet’s nest repeatedly and then getting surprised when you get stung. or in this case, called out with the truth. because the truth isn’t “abrasive”, it’s just real. 

consider: you’re being spoken to this way because you won’t listen to literally any other way whenever your inadequacies of being mods has been brought up in the past lmao. being nice obviously hasn’t worked (oh the irony). what else do you expect to happen?

“if everyone despised us and we put no effort into getting a little liked from the community [...]” you said “simp” behaviour was required for all mods. there’s a huge fucking difference between “too nice to mod properly or tell people what they’re doing wrong”, and being well liked and respected while still being competent. again, being liked by everyone is not what makes someone The Best Mod(tm). doesn’t matter if you don’t actually do your job.

“the problems aren’t with the entire staff. so I don’t see the need to blame everyone” this is exactly like saying “this cancer tumor isn’t affecting all of your body so i don’t see the need to remove it before it gets worse”

“the reason we need this more lighthearted [...] and those involved in the problem” again. it is entirely possible to be kind to someone while also dealing with problems in a responsible manner.

yep. as she said, the kga staff is the first one to throw insults at her, not the other way around. and it is incredibly hypocritical of them to talk that way. not very simp-like when you’re directly being called out on the shit you’re doing wrong, huh :) 

and you heard it here folks; the kga staff doesn’t care about the opinions and critical feedback of it’s own members! “a bad opinion based on next to nothing” you mean the stuff you sweep under the rug and the shit she’s personally witnessed the whole time she’s been on that amino?

sure, that first mod is not specifically responsible for what the second one said. but you’re both still mods, and whole idea of being a mod is being responsible for others in the first place. and that responsibility includes amongst yourselves. if you don’t know how to police your fellow mods (and on the case if it happened, speak up if another mod is being corrupt), can you really expect anyone to believe you can moderate other people if you don’t know how to check yourselves first?

“you’ve never been a mod. you can’t judge how we do our jobs” that is a shitty argument and always has been since the dawn of time. 99.99% of people have never and will never be president or work in parliament. that doesn’t stop them from criticizing how the government runs things. the majority of an audience have never worked on a movie set before. that doesn’t stop them from saying whether they thought the movie was absolute shit. they don’t have to know how much “hard work” is put into being a mod to judge you. what matters is the outcome, they see the outcome, and will judge you because the outcome directly affects them. 

and in both of the above situations, the feedback from the outsiders are incredibly vital and influence the way the government, or the movie directors, make their next move. because if the next move they make is complete nonsensical garbage to everyone else? they’re ruined. they have to listen to everyone else or their reputation, and trust everyone else has for them, will suffer. it’s the exact same thing in an online community where its members create the content, and this is just the way humans function. she, and i, and many others of us who agree with her absolutely can judge the way you do your jobs, and at the same time you have the option of not listening. but that option isn’t always the best option for the sake of the community. these are what people who are actually fit to be mods have to decide, whether they actually want to listen to the people they’re governing, or if they’d rather avoid facing the many, many issues in their community and admitting the fact they fucked up. i’m pretty sure we all know what the kga staff is gonna pick.

you people really shouldn’t have become mods if you’re so sensitive to criticism and can’t handle confrontation. i’m pretty sure the critique you’ve been given was never a personal attack on you as people, but the point of it was, and is, to make you better mods. something which you don’t seem to care about doing.

i’m almost done here.

i have a whole bunch of disclaimers in the event whoever-the-fuck decides to argue with me on all of this. because goddammit i am a tired adult and i don’t give a shit about “mean anons” who are gonna attempt to out-logic my logic because by the end of this post, i will be done here. i will laugh as i delete your asks, on the assumption anyone will actually bother trying to fight me after everything i said. i don’t feel i’ve wasted my time with this post, but i will not waste my time arguing further with some random person on the internet. 

i’m 1000% aware that being a mod for this amino is not a serious thing. i don’t care. i know it’s not a job job where you’re getting paid to actually do shit so you don’t really have to do anything at all. which is probably why the amino community sucks so bad. i’m just saying, being in that mod position still means you’re fucking responsible for when people get hurt in your community, and when people post inappropriate shit. it may not matter to you, and it may not matter in your life in the long run, but those experiences matter to someone. and it will always be, in part, your fault because your mod team was responsible for it at the time. if you don’t care? i don’t care that you don’t care. it won’t change the fact you let people get hurt and have no regrets about it. which is even worse. 

yes, i wrote all of this out. i typed out this longass fucking essay for a few hours of my life despite that these people are likely never going to read this, or care, or take into consideration anything i said because they clearly can’t handle criticism-- because of the sheer amount of salt i have for these children, these adults, these people who can’t fucking do their jobs right. i haven’t wasted my time typing this, and i don’t care if other people see it that way because i don’t. and unlike some people, i’m not so insecure in myself that i care so much about what other people think. i wanted to do this. i’m happy with this decision. i don’t care that this isn’t a “real issue” or that “i could have done better things with my time” or “wow i’m a loser with no life” sure, thanks. honestly this was a better use of my time than staring at youtube all day. so. what i care about is that real people are affected by the things this excuse for a mod team has been pulling for way too long.

yes, i talked about how it’s easy to be kind while being firm. no, i am not being kind but the difference is that i am fully aware of it because i am making the choice to not put up with this bs. yes i’m some adult on the internet getting riled up that these people are trashy af. because some of the people i do care about are involved. your point?

and if you’re one of those mods on the kga and will not read all of this? i don’t care for your short attention span. mine’s the size of a goldfish’s too, dw. you read it and don’t care about what i have to say? great! here’s an uno reverse card. i do not know the mods or have any desire to know them based on what i do know of them. if they are willing to actually be reasonable, i may change my mind. until then, this criticism still stands.

no, i do not use amino other than the salt account i made today just to see firsthand what things go on there in the first place. i don’t care what happens to that account and have zero plans on posting on it. other than maybe a salt post, maybe. a specific phrase that really stuck as i was browsing was the community being described by one of the mods as an “emo daycare”. like i said way earlier in this post, the behaviour you freely allow is what breeds likeminded people in a community. that means: it’s your own fault that your community consists of mostly horrible, toxic people. if you actually did your work as mods, you wouldn’t have that issue with the people in the first place :) 

it is the kindergarten fandom, but that doesn’t mean you all have to act like a bunch of kindergarteners. everything they said about the fandom is completely wrong if you actually look in the right places and, y’know, stop keeping your head in radioactive sand like a fucking ostrich while refusing to look at everything else around you. i am personally friends with so many talented individuals for this fandom, and in my experience this fandom has done nothing but good for me and my overall creativity.

no, of course i’m not above criticism either. unlike some people i am rather open to it and am aware it is important and something everyone needs to deal with in their own lives including me. i just don’t care for petty squabbling. i do have better things to do after this post, after all. i’ve said everything i needed to say, and @ whatever else the people who may disagree think of this? c’est la vie. so. yeah. i’m done here, that was me being pissed off by the sheer lack of braincells i’ve witnessed tonight, gonna draw now, bye.

Reasons why I have conflicting feelings about Halloween 2 - The elementary school scene

Halloween 2 in general has some scenes / plotlines / writing directions that I really do not care for, but the one that stands out to me the most apart from what they did with Laurie Strode as a character and the sibling plotline is the elementary school / Samhain scene.

I honestly think this scene is an absolute trainwreck and does neither the character of Michael nor the subtle writing of the first movie any justice, and I also feel like the crazy direction they went in with the thorn trilogy (Halloween 4 -6) originated here. (To be clear, I don’t actually hate those movies. Halloween 4 and 6 I actually consider to be good / decent entries of the franchise! I do believe though that the overall direction they took with Michael as a character wasn’t the best one, and that 2018 did well in “rebooting” him.)

One of the best aspects of Halloween (1978) is that Michael Myers as a character is left very vague and ambiguous. The viewer can form their own opinion about whether they want to read him as a psychopathic but human serial / spree killer, a supernatural force of evil or something in between - all three options could be argued for based on evidence from the movie. Yes, we have Loomis who tells us that Michael is ‘simply evil’, that he has no conscience and so on, but it’s still up to us if we want to believe that or not because the movie also gives us enough reason to question the validity of Loomis’ words. 

We don’t have to take Michael as an inhuman force of evil at face value; it’s just an option presented to us. 

And that brings me to my main issue with this garbage fire of a scene.

It’s Michael himself who engages with the idea of him being supernatural here. It’s Michael breaking into the school and putting the knife through the child’s drawing (also, is that supposed to be his own drawing or is it just a random family portrait he found in the classroom? So many questions..) and writing Samhain on the blackboard, putting these two things into correlation with each other. We can’t really take this reading of him being connected to Samhain as an option because it’s Michael himself who hints at / confirms (however you want to read this scene) this connection.

Now I do want to say that for a while I was trying really hard to convince myself that this scene is way smarter than it actually is. Imagine Michael knew about Loomis’ interest in the occult that we learn about in this movie. It would fit with his characterisation if he then played with Loomis’ fear of him being “driven by a force” as he states in this movie, if he wrote Samhain on that blackboard exactly because he knew Loomis already believed in that. Alternatively he could have done this whole breaking and entering thing to keep Loomis busy while he goes after Laurie. Even if that was the intention behind that scene, it’s still stupid - and also only works because Loomis then ends up running into nurse Chambers and the marshall, which Michael couldn’t know would happen.

I don’t think it would fit Michael’s characterisation all that well if the movie wants me to believe he did that as a distraction - Michael honestly hasn’t given a visible fuck about Loomis or the police being around, neither in Halloween 1978 nor in this one. In one scene we even see him walking straight on to the hospital on the sidewalk while a police car passes him by. In Halloween he knew all along Loomis was looking for him in Haddonfield and still decided to stay and start killing there when he could have gone anyhwere else. Yes, he does slash the car tires outside the hospital and cuts the phone lines, but those are all measures to keep Laurie from leaving the hospital.

If we are supposed to take this scene at face value, telling us about Michael’s connection to Samhain, it’s honestly just... useless? It fills no narrative purpose. We already link Michael to the supernatural! We see the ending of Halloween 1978 play out again at the start of this movie and follow Michael via POV scene as he stands up and walks away completely unhindered by his wounds after getting shot ‘in the heart’ as Loomis says! There were already subtle hints about Michael being linked to October 31st, simply because both times he started killing happened to be on that date. The only new thing this scene tells us specifically is that Michael’s supernatural side is linked to the idea of Samhain, not to some other unspecified force of evil.

And here’s where it gets really confusing to me and why I have to say that no matter what way we were supposed to read the elementary school scene, it ends up being stupid and narratively useless anyway: Loomis himself directly questions / contradicts this connection less than ten minutes later into the movie.

Before nurse Chambers can tell Loomis about the connection between Laurie and Michael Loomis launches into a rant about “the spirit of Samhain” and the nature of evil:

“Samhain isn’t evil spirits. It isn’t goblins, ghosts or witches. It’s the unconscious mind. We’re all afraid of the dark inside ourselves.”

I have to admit, I really don’t understand where the movie is going with this. We know for a fact there’s more to Michael than him being ‘just human’; humans don’t stand up after getting shot in the heart. We see him sustain even more injuries that he walks away from later in this movie as well. At this point it’s absolutely out of the question that Michael is supposed to be simply human. We can’t read it that way anymore because the movie won’t let us. 

It also puts a huge question mark behind Loomis as a character. He spent two movies telling everyone willing to listen that he knew all along Michael wasn’t human in the least and now that he’s confronted by “evidence” from Michael himself he instead chooses to focus on “the evil in all of us” instead of the supernatural? 

So all in all the elementary / Samhain school scene ends up feeling out of character for Michael to me, it throws the supernatural side to Michael in our face without any of the subtlety that makes this element of the character so intriguing in the first movie, it makes me question where they were going with Loomis in this and most of all, it is narratively useless. 

That is the biggest problem I have with this movie in general: there are several other plot points that end up wasting screentime while being useless / not impacting any of the characters in a meaningful way at all (the sibling plot, the little romance subplot between Laurie and Jimmy, the people of Haddonfield forming a mob around the Myers’ house). However I end up hating the Samhain / elementary school scene / plotline the most out of all of these simply because the sibling plotline has little enough impact to ignore it for the most part and the other two don’t end up interacting with Michael at all, who is honestly the saving grace of this movie.

RE: Betrayal

Summary: Jolene West thought she was going to say goodbye to the Bakers before leaving for college, but little did she know, their home had become a living hell for outsiders. Now, she has to find a way out after being taken prisoner by Lucas Baker - someone she once called a friend - as she is tortured mentally and physically.

(Warnings: graphic depictions of sexual assault, vulgar language, gore.) If any of these things bother you please don't read. Take care of yourselves guys and stay safe!!! Also this whole first part is written in the first person cause I wrote this a w h i l e ago.

PART 1

CHAPTER 1

The hot and humid late summer Louisiana air blew through the open windows of my car. I felt nervous and a little saddened about my oncoming departure from Dulvey, but I knew that I could come back for the holidays and return for good after I was done with college… if I wanted to, that is.

There was nothing but dense swamp flora before me as I drove into the forest next to my old friends’ home. While I hadn’t heard from them in a few months, I figured it had been because of the possible damage that could’ve been done after the hurricane that came through. They were fixing their house up, it seemed the most logical to me. These people were like family to me, I had been friends with their children since I could remember. The only time we weren’t together was when my family and I briefly moved to Georgia due to my father’s new job. Obviously it didn’t last long, we weren’t there for more than six months before moving back home to Dulvey. For my little visit, I decided to drive through the forest surrounding their house to surprise them. I could go through the old house and head through the main house front door. I was sure they wouldn’t mind.

The mud stuck to the bottom of my boots and I could only hope that it would rub off on nearby stone or maybe the wood of the old house porch, it would be rude of me to track it inside of their home. There was something strange about the property as I approached it, the smell of smoke filled the air and no one was around. The front seemed to be flooded as well. This worried me.

It was best not to climb over the gate, if I were to do that I’d just end up in a gross and muddy mess, so I decided to go around and through the path to the back. The deeper I ventured, the more I worried. Normally they kept up with cleaning the steps and keeping the vegetation trimmed back so one could easily walk through, but everything had become overgrown and the wooden steps were covered in mud. As the trail opened up to the lake, I noticed how dirty everything else had become. While yes, it was outdoors, everything was well kept a few months ago, but now it was muddy. Everything. I blamed it on the storm again and moved on. Although, I did find it interesting when I found rope blocking off the opening to the lake. I had a bad feeling about it, but I went through it anyway. I would regret it later.

The side of the house came into view at last! I clutched at my bag, running up the steps and checked under the mat for the key. I couldn’t seem to find it, which completely ruined my plans. Quickly, I knocked on the door, hoping that maybe someone was inside the house. As my fist beat down on the door, it opened. No one seemed to be in sight, but I went in anyway. Another decision I would later regret.

The house was peeling away and reeked of mold. I feared for my health and the health of The Bakers. The wooden planks beneath my feet creaked with every step I took and gave away my position in the house to anyone or anything that resided within it. The kitchen table was cluttered and held a whole bunch of newspapers that were damp, ruined. There were a few garbage bags scattered among the halls, decorating the house and adding to my growing worry. The furniture had become damaged as well, the stuffing coming out of a few rips in the couches. After a while, I had actually come across mold. I had walked by an opened drawer and noticed the black fungus inside. But it looked weird. It wasn’t like any mold I had ever seen. I didn’t dare pay any more attention to it than I needed, though. At the time it was just regular mold to me.

As I made my way around the old house, I heard creaking from other rooms. My nerves were set on edge and I found myself frantically trying to open the door. For some strange reason, the setting of the old house had gotten to me. It was nothing like I remembered and there was an unsettling feeling that took over me. The door wouldn’t open, however. My breath quickened as the footsteps got closer, so I did what I thought would save me.

“Hello? Mr. Jack? Mrs. Marguerite? It’s me, Jolene. I came to say bye…” I stated as I cautiously made my way down the hallway once more. There was no answer, and that startled me even more. Perhaps it wasn’t them, maybe it was someone who had broken in. If that were the case, I was in a whole lot of trouble.

“Lucas? Zoe?” I called out. There was still no answer, only the sounds of footsteps quickening. I could barely see a thing due to the windows still being boarded up from the storm. My heartbeat echoed through my ears and I was sure others in the house could hear it, even if I knew that probably wasn’t the case. The living room was to my left and the closest room I could escape into, so I did. The familiar sound of the tv static filled my ears and replaced the sounds of my heartbeat and the foreign footsteps. This wasn’t the best thing though, how could I tell if they were getting closer to my hiding spot if the static was deafening?

I rushed to the tv set, turning it off. Finally, there was complete silence… but that wasn’t right. By the time I realized the footsteps had stopped, there was a rag over my mouth. I began to panic, which didn’t help at all. Within a few seconds I was out cold. It was a heavy, dreamless sleep that enveloped me after the rag was pressed to my face. Nothing but inky blackness and no memories of that sleep that overcame me.

CHAPTER 2

Instead of any answers to the questions that looped around in my head, I was locked in a cell, seated on the floor. There was a bed placed against the stone brick wall with salmon-colored blankets draped over it. The floor, which was cement, was damp with a few actual puddles in random places. There was a single lamp attached to the wall above my head, illuminating the otherwise dark cell. As I stood from my place on the floor, a body came into view. I jumped, accidentally hitting my head on the lamp, moving it slightly from the position it was in.

Indeed, there was a woman sleeping on the bed. Her raven locks spread on the pillow and covering her face. She wasn’t under the blankets, instead curled up on top of them. Her shirt was dirty and greying, but I felt as if I had seen it before. I shrugged this feeling off, however, and walked away from the stranger’s sleeping form.

If I were to find out just what happened and if I were still in the Baker’s home, it would be a miracle. I had just begun living a hellish life. Sadly, for me, there was no escaping from it.

The gate before me was just sitting there, taunting me as I sat with my arms wrapped around my knees. It’s only lock, which was a single chain held together by a lock that required a key to remove, was winking at me mockingly in the LED light that flooded across from the desk on the other side of the room. I felt like I was watching the bars of the cell door rust and crumble with my bare eyes. It was almost as if I was going insane down here. I had felt every wall, nook and cranny. I tried pulling out every single stone on the wall to find a hidden passage to the outside world. I just wanted to get out, and this stupid cell door was sneering at me, just rubbing my captivity in my face. So, I did the only thing I hadn’t done yet. I gripped the bars and shook the door, hoping it would break off.

The stranger in the bed stirred as I rattled the gates. I wanted out, this was driving me crazy and I had actually begun to panic. They couldn’t keep us in here, whoever they were. We weren’t animals, we weren’t meant to be caged. Come to think of it, not even animals deserve to be caged, especially in conditions like this. It had been at least two days since I woke up in this cell, or at least I thought it was. There were no windows down here or any source of light to tell me if it was day or night, to tell me when to wake up or when to go to sleep. There wasn’t a clock or a calendar to tell me how many days had gone by. My body was completely thrown off by this, especially since I had been passing out due to sheer exhaustion. I knew that restlessly searching the cell was a bad idea from the start, but it was worth a shot.

The air was thick and hard to breath, making me wonder how long this woman had been here for. From behind me, I could hear the gentle taps of shoes touching the ground. The woman must have finally awoken. I remained seated seeing as I wouldn’t want to startle her. She must have been down here for a long time seeing as her body was covered in dark mud. I didn’t observe her up close while she slept, that would have been creepy.

“Wha-who are you?” Her voice was soft yet had this uneasy sound to it as she spoke. It was clear that she was scared. I turned around, wrapping my arms around my legs, bringing them to my chest and resting my head on my bare knees. The tights I wore had ripped when I woke up, luckily the scabs had formed by now and the stinging had gone. My cheeks were red, my eyes as well. She furrowed her eyebrows at my appearance, slowly gliding off of the bedside and sitting on the floor across from me.

“How did you get here?” She asked, this time a bit louder and less frantic.

“I don’t know how I got in here, but I do know how I got to this estate. I drove.” I drawled. She looked down at the ground, grabbing her upper arm.

“Why would you come here?” She inquired, she sounded frantic once again. I sat there, contemplating her question. Why would I go there? Did I even remember why I was coming here? I didn’t spend much time dwelling on this question before shrugging. Whatever reason it was that dragged me here, it must have been really important.

“My name’s Jolene.” I told her in a voice softer than silk. Her expression changed slightly, it was subtle enough so anyone who wasn’t focusing on her directly wouldn’t notice, but she smiled. It was quite faint and I could barely tell he was smiling, but she was.

“Mia.”

“So, Mia, when did ya get here?” I asked her. Maybe she had arrived shortly before I did and we might have a chance at getting out.

“I-I don’t remember. I-It’s been so long.” She explained. I felt my body go numb at this. Maybe she was like me and lost track of time and it felt like forever. I was panicking again, what if she was right? What if she has been here for a while? I had to get out of here.

“Are you okay?” She asked, looking me in the eye with worry. My breathing became ragged and the tears started up again.

“Will ya help me?”

“What?” She asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

“I need to get out of here. I know that if we try we can both get out of here.” I told her, sounding more frantic by the second as I grabbed her shoulders. She looked away for a moment before looking at me with a glint of determination in her eye.

“I’ll help.” And with that, we planned our escape. She told me about when they bring the food in and where they come from. For her, they come once a day with food through the stone hallway at the end of the room. According to Mia, it was either Marguerite or Lucas who came to bring the rancid food. This threw me off briefly, I remembered her cooking and it was usually the best. There was definitely something wrong here. I had an idea on what to do if it’s Lucas, but I was still at a loss for ideas if Marguerite comes. All of my bags were in my car, which was probably gone by now, and my bags had bobby pins that I could have used by now. It took a few days to coordinate what we were going to do, plan everything. When we got out, we would make our way through the stone corridor and go from there. Hopefully, there would be a clear path leading us to the outside world instead of multiple doors that would trap us in this hellhole.

All of our planning paid off in the end, Lucas had brought the food. He unlocked the chain, stuffing the key in his pocket before opening the door just wide enough to slide the food in. I looked at Mia briefly before standing up and approaching the door. He slammed the door shut and locked the chain as I gripped the bars, pressing my entire body against the door to get as close as possible, he ignored this and began to walk away.

“Lucas? I-is it really you?” I asked, my voice uneven. He smirked at me, turning around and approaching the bars once more. He didn’t say anything, only staring at me through the rusty bars of the cell door. I reached out with one hand to make sure he was real, or at least to make it seem like I was. While my right hand ghosted along his cheekbones, my other one slid into his jacket pocket. Carefully, I gripped the key and withdrew my hand from his pocket before gently wrapping my hand around the bars, the key safe in my palm. Stubble scratched at my fingertips as I pulled my hand away, my eyes glued to his pale and sunken-in features. All I wanted now was for him to leave, and he showed no intent on staying. That was all I could gather from studying his almost emotionless expression. I hoped he planned on leaving soon.

“Well then, if I didn’t know any better I’d say I was dreaming. Jolene. Long time no see.” He mused as a wide and chilling smile making its way to his pale, thin lips. I masked my nerves to the best of my abilities and faked a small smile while averting my eyes.

“I-I thought you were dead…” I mentioned in a tone barely above a whisper. I looked back up, tears filling my eyes as I thought about my childhood, them before they supposedly ‘died.’

“I thought ya all were.” I continued, sadness laced within my words as I spoke them. Mia stood silently behind me as I conversed with my long lost friend. Although, he barely seemed like my childhood companion. Not only had he physically changed, but personality wise as well. He was like a completely different person; a much louder and cockier person.

“Guess we proved you wrong then, huh?” His words echoed within the walls, ringing in my ears along with the laughter that followed. A chill went down my spine once more and I found myself unable to look at him. Not only was I unable to look at him; I was unable to discover why he was like this, no, why they were all like this. It didn’t make sense. The Bakers were so kind and welcoming, but now… I hadn’t seen any of them except for Lucas, who I hadn’t seen up until now. He was never as welcoming as the rest of his family and normally seemed cold and reserved, but he was never loud and obnoxious. He sighed and ran a hand through his thinning, blonde hair.

“I really hope she likes you, it’d be a shame if she didn’t.” He states nonchalantly before walking away, leaving me only a few moments to process this cryptic statement and barely enough time to react.

“Wait, ‘she?’ Lucas, wait! Who’re ya talking about?” I inquired. My only answer was the sound of a door closing that bounced off of the walls and throughout the cell. I looked back at Mia, who was seated on the bed once again, staring at me with wide, curious eyes. I realized what she was waiting for and opened my left palm, revealing the small, silver key. Her whole demeanor had changed with this reveal, she hopped to her feet and made her way to the door, waiting for me to unlock it.

“Ya remember the plan, right?” She asked, her voice giving off hints of nervousness. I nodded before slipping my arms between the bars and grasping at the chain to retrieve the lock. I jammed the key within the lock and turned it, pulling it down and off of the chain. A loud clattering was bouncing off of the walls and I had to quickly silence it by pulling the manacle out myself, instead of letting it drop to the floor. The cell door squeaked on its hinges as we made our way out of the cell.

It was dead silent, no noise was heard other than our breath and footsteps. This was unnerving and made me feel quite sick. With every shaky breath I took and every sneaking footstep, I felt as if someone could hear it; I felt as if someone could see it. We inched closer, towards a small crawlspace that opened up into another room. I remembered Mia mentioned this room when she told me about the rooms leading up to our cell. I was too quick to celebrate. I stopped dead in my tracks when I heard Mia drop. Slowly, I turned my head to see what had happened. When I didn’t notice a figure behind her or anywhere near us, I rushed to help her.

“M-Mia… Mia come on, we have to go.” I shook her gently. The only response I got was a low, growl-like sound.

“I can’t leave.” She rasped. I jumped, falling backward onto the concrete floor. Mia stood, raising her head to reveal her completely blackened eyes and grey-looking skin. My breathing quickened as she approached me. It wasn’t long before she had my wrist in her deadly grip.

“I can never leave!” She exclaimed in her new, demonic-sounding voice. And with that she threw me across the room, through the wooden crawlspace which broke upon impact. I groaned and attempted to get up, but once I had regained my composure, she was running toward me. I turned around and squeezed through the crawlspace, barely avoiding her clawing hands. I slid through the crawlspace and rushed to the door on the other side of the room. I knew she was catching up to me.

Once the door was open, I collided into something... or someone. They slammed the door shut and yanked me up by my hair.

“Did ya think I wouldn’t have noticed that the damn key was missing? Hm? Ya must think I’m pretty fucking stupid. What made ya think that’d work? Huh?” My blood ran cold as soon as he spoke. He must have been waiting. He knew we’d escape, was Mia the ‘she’ he was talking about. His grip on my hair loosened and I tried to run, but he grabbed ahold again, this time dragging me along with him.

“P-please let me go back… I swear I won’t t-try to escape ag-again.” I pleaded. The only response I got from him was a mix between a scoff and a laugh before telling me what was going to happen.

“Oh no, you… are going to the mines.” He growled. The mines were always creepy to me, which was why I refused to go near them. There were records of people dying in there, thus creating rumors that they were haunted, which was what kept me out. The mines were definitely going to become my worst nightmare, that much I knew. Next thing I knew there was a cloth pressed against my face again, and I was out cold, caught in a dreamless sleep.

CHAPTER 3

(THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF RAPE AND SEXUAL ASSAULT; PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK)

Something felt off when I had awoken. My head was still fuzzy from what happened before I was knocked out, but I remembered how I had gotten there. Mia’s grey skin and angry face was still seared into my mind and I still had a lot of questions. I took in my new surroundings and it was true that I was not in a traditional cell any more, but instead in the mines as Lucas had promised. I was in a bed this time, facing the farthest wall. I took in my surroundings, taking note of the white, cement-like substance that made up the walls and immediately remembering that it was salt. There was a bright, LED lamp hanging from the ceiling that was closest to the foot of the bed. My eyes trailed to the door. It was a large, metallic, sturdy-looking door with gears and complicated locks on it. It was clear that they didn’t want me getting away this time.

I soon noticed something in the middle of the room; I noticed something that would chill me to the bone. My clothes, everything I was wearing, was folded up on the ground with an old, brass key sitting on top of the pile. My eyes widened as I soon realized that I was fully nude beneath the old, worn sheets, and my left leg was shackled to the metal-bar foot board. I broke out in a cold sweat and rushed to get up. The pile of clothes and the key seemed to be close enough for me to crawl and at least drag it over.

“Good! Yer awake!” A voice echoed over an intercom. I grimaced and realized that he had been watching the entire time. I should have known.

“So, here’s how it’s gonna go.” He began in an almost taunting voice. “If ya can get the key and yer clothes before yer time is up, ya can go free.” He explained. I glared at the ground.

“How long do I have?”

“I’ll make it fair, ya have fifteen seconds to grab that key.” He told me. The amount of amusement present in his voice was quite alarming. It was sickening. As soon as I heard him utter the words ‘go,’ I was on the ground reaching for the pile of clothes. It didn’t take long for me to figure out that it was just out of reach. My stomach dropped at this realization.

“Ten.”

“This is impossible.” I muttered to myself, tears filling my eyes like water would fill a swimming pool. I stopped trying, knowing that my futile attempts were bringing him some sick form of pleasure.

“Five.” He drawled. I stood up and crawled back onto the bed before curling into a ball and crying. This was a nightmare, at this point in my life, I regretted fearing anything other than this. This had quickly become a living hell. I’m sure I wouldn’t be half as frightened of this if I still had my clothes.

“Aww, did ya give up?” I scowled at his taunting.

“What the hell do you think?” I asked rhetorically. He laughed at this. He just laughed. Next thing I knew, everything was silent. The intercom was off, that was obvious due to his laughter being cut off, and for some reason, that was more unnerving than when the intercom was on. So, for the next few minutes I sat alone, fighting back tears, knowing that crying wouldn’t do me any good. Everything was silent, almost peaceful. It would have been enjoyable if not for why I was here.

Footsteps had interrupted my peace. Echoing footsteps from just outside the door. I sat up, holding the blanket over myself and bringing my knees up… I was cowering. The door had opened with a loud creak before revealing the source of the footsteps. Of course it was him. He smiled at me with that terrifying, wide smile that made my blood run cold. He walked into the room, closing the door behind him and kicking the pile of clothes and the key away. He inched toward the bed in large strides, making me cower in the corner where the bed and wall met.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He greeted me giddily. I avoided making eye contact and focused on my sheet-covered foot.

“Come on, baby girl, look at me.” I refused to do so, instead, I turned my head in an act of defiance. He scoffed before speaking again.

“Jolene, don’t make me do something I wouldn’t want to.” His voice was low and served as my first and only warning. I didn’t want to make him angry, considering this was him when he was in a good mood and I was scared of him as it was.

“There we go, now was that so hard?” I refused to answer, actually, I think it was rhetorical. Now was my chance to ask about Mia and to find out what happened.

“What happened to Mia? She… she changed. It was like… she wasn’t human.” I asked. Lucas chuckled at my questions before leaning forward and taking my chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“Don’t you worry yer pretty little head about that. Anything that happens outside of here doesn’t matter anymore.” He states before dipping his head and hovering over my collarbone. I stiffened as he moved closer to me, his breath dancing across my bare shoulders and leaving behind goosebumps in its place. My heartbeat sped up as he crawled onto the bed, getting way too close for comfort, I attempted to back up further, but couldn’t go too far before my back hit the wall. I was cornered, but it wasn’t like I could get away if I wasn’t currently in a corner.

“Yer mine now.” He muttered against my skin as he grasped my shoulders. I wanted to scream, but I found myself unable to do anything other than grab the front of his hoodie.

“What are ya doing?” I surprised myself by talking, I was sure my tongue was paralyzed along with the rest of my fear-stricken body. Lucas didn’t stop pursuing after I uttered these words, instead, he closed the gap between our bodies, burying his face in the crook of my neck. I let go of his hoodie and placed my hands on his shoulders, gently pushing him away from me. A deep growl emitted from him as he nipped at my neck. I audibly squeaked. That was when I realized what he was doing. My breathing picked up as I began panicking and trying to shove him off of me and succeeding for a brief moment.

My screams and cries for help barely surfaced before Lucas grabbed my legs and pulled them so they were laying straight while at the same time pulling me closer to him. He climbed on top of me and had me pinned once again, one hand holding my wrists and the other clamped over my mouth. I struggled beneath him, trying to break free from his grasp and screaming. I knew no one could hear me, it wasn’t for them to hear, it was more of a reflex if anything, a noise I made in sheer terror. Because that’s what I was, terrified. He chuckled to himself, shaking his head before leaning down once more to bite and kiss at my neck again. I continued to thrash around, but his weight kept me in place. Once my cries for help had died down to small whimpers, he took his hand off of my mouth. With the same hand, he ripped the blanket from my own hands and grasped for the soft flesh I had hidden beneath. I gasped and used all my strength to throw him off of me. I could only get my arms free of his grasp. Of course, this started a struggle, he tried to pin my arms again and I tried to find some sort of leverage.

It was all so sudden, there was the feeling of my fist coming into contact with a prickly surface, then the weight on my waist had been lifted, and I was up and struggling to run toward the door and key. An angry groan emitted from behind me and I knew that if I didn’t get away I was doomed. And doomed I was, he grabbed ahold of my hair and tugged me back as I struggled to grab the key. Instead of pulling me onto the bed, he flipped me over. Due to the shackle on my left ankle, my entire left leg was lifted and still on the bed, spreading my legs unintentionally. His calloused hands found their way to my neck in an instant and he squeezed until all air was cut from my lungs. I grasped at his sleeves, begging him to stop with only my eyes. He leaned forward, pure anger was written all over his face.

“You…” He began, his voice dripping with venom. Even though I couldn’t see it, I was sure I went pale. His cold glare sent a shiver down my spine.

“You… dumb bitch! If you knew what was good for you…” My vision blurred briefly before his grip let up. I found myself gasping for air and coughing, turning over so I didn’t upset him further by coughing in his face. He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him.

“Will you behave now?” He asked me. I nodded, blinking back the tears and preparing myself for what was to come. His chapped lips slammed onto mine as he climbed between my legs, pressing himself against me. My eyes were as wide as the moon, the tears that I was trying to keep away finally fell from my eyes as I realized that I couldn’t get away. He fumbled with his belt buckle, the metal clanking against itself as if it were reminding me of the horrors awaiting me. He pulled away from me, his tongue slightly peeking through his lips. It wasn’t long before he returned his attention to the soft flesh of my neck, him licking a long, wet stripe up to my earlobe. I shuddered in utter disgust, but held my tongue. His hands roamed, squeezing and pinching random places on my body. I cringed at the sound of cloth dropping to the floor.

“You ready for this, baby girl?” He asked rhetorically before pulling his underwear down. I suppressed a sob, trying to ignore the dull pain that lingered in my lower regions. His groans of pleasure filled the room and I quickly found myself to be repulsed by his actions, hell, I was repulsed by him in general at this point. His thrusts were rough and unforgiving, I felt my skin tearing against the ground as I rubbed against it. Although, the word rubbed was an understatement. A sob broke through as the pain became unbearable. He never stopped, only lifted my back, but in the process brought me closer to him. That was not a position I wanted to be in. His other hand trailed to my breasts, squeezing one in his large hand, his thumb running over my nipple.

I bit back small cries - sobs, really - as he continued to chase his own pleasure at my expense. He bit down on my shoulder, drawing blood, the pain ran through me, setting my skin ablaze. I choked on my own spit as I gasped while Lucas sucked at the new wound. A sob escaped me, causing Lucas to stop sucking the blood from my shoulder and look at me. I shut my eyes to prevent any tears from falling, turning my head as well. He grabbed onto my hips harder, his dull fingernails creating crescent shapes in the soft flesh there as he dug into my skin. All I could hear was the blood rushing in my ears, trying my best to ignore his panting and my own small cries.

After a while, everything died down. He was finally finished and was getting dressed, leaving me on the ground, a disturbed and disheveled mess. I had quickly decided that I hated him. I shouldn’t hate him, he used to be my best friend. This… this was unforgivable, though. I finally got up, diving under the sheets. I eyed him warily, watching as he made his way to the door.

“W-wait. Can I get my clothes back?” I stuttered. He looked back at me briefly, flashing a sadistic smile before bursting into laughter. His laugh echoed through the mines as he left, the laugh that would haunt my nightmares.

Here's a Ryuji and Ryukoto appreciation post! (super long post but it's worth it)

One big problem (that everyone has already noticed, it's nothing new) is that the writers aren't really good at writing a good friendship between Ryuji and the other members of the phantom thieves.

While many say that his place in the group is used as a "comic relief", (which btw doesn't work because we feel bad for him), I also think that they're trying to make a fun friendship. Kinda like when you and your friends call yourselves "hoes" and "stupid bitches" but obviously don't mean it and it's just a joke, an affectionate way to say "I feel comfortable enough with you to say dumb shit".

However in Ryuji's case it doesn't work because not only does it go in only one way (the phantom thieves towards Ryuji but never Ryuji towards them... except maybe for Morgana but they're just quarreling) but also because Ryuji doesn't like it and doesn't take it as a joke.

The biggest example of him being mistreated was when he literally saves everyone's ass only to get beat up afterward while we know very well from his confidant that his father used to beat him and his mom, also his legs got broken by Kamoshida. The saddest thing is that he's not even trying to be dramatic about it.

He's just like "uh... yeah. My dad used to beat me up and my mom but whatever, I'm past that" while we get hours and hours of Futaba's palace showing us that "oh no her mom is dead those adults suck". No offense in any way to Futaba btw, I like her and there's nothing wrong with her arc but I just find that sad how while we got a whole big ass backstory for her troubles Ryuji's abuse gets downplayed the whole game and made fun of.

O-kaaaaay let's move on to the main point: Ryukoto.

This is something that seemed really obvious to me and I'm surprised that there's not many people talking about it. This ship has SO much potential if done right. (Emphasis on DONE RIGHT.)

I know it's super cliche because Makoto is supposed to be the typical "super intelligent girl with a badass side" and Ryuji the "lovable and reckless idiot" so this type of ship is overdone everywhere. Movies, games, TV series, manga, books, etc. I know.

But did any of you realize that both of them have many similarities?

For example, their troubles getting "downplayed". Like I said earlier Ryuji was abused by his dad but we never hear any more than that and in Makoto's case there's something similar happening. We know that her mom died when she was really young and then her dad but she never makes a big deal out of it just like Ryuji. I guess they didn't feel the need to add anything to that narrative because we already have many characters in persona who don't have/lost their parents (Futaba, Yusuke, Akechi, Haru, etc.) However there's something else happening, it's about Sae.

Remember that one scene where Sae just randomly started yelling at Makoto and telling her that she's useless, that she should "aknowledge their situation" and that she "eats away at her life". If it happend once what makes you think that it doesn't happen regularly? Afterward Sae realizes that she effed up, apologizes and says that from now on she'll eat outside which makes me think that this is not the first time this kind of thing happens. Makoto's reaction also comfirms it at the beginning when she wants to bring up their dad but knows clearly what can happen when she does.

Sae is obviously having a lot of stress due to the fact that she's now suddenly the "adult of the house" and she has to bring enough money home for both of them not to mention that Makoto has yet to get into a college (which can be really pricey). So it's understandable that Sae feels on edge and knows that she shouldn't say things like that. But even if she doesn't mean it she's still her sister and her words hurt. I'm hesitating on calling this a borderline verbal abuse situation because we don't have enough evidence for that (and also because many love Sae and I'll get my ass fried if I say anything bad about her, no worries though. I do think that she's an interesting character.)

So let's continue.

Then the whole time Makoto is teary eyed and silent which once. Again. Makes me think that this is absolutely not the first time this happens. Afterward we see Makoto's desperate attempts at trying to be useful to the phantom thieves and make a place for herself where there isn't. Both Ryuji and Makoto don't think highly of themselves, Ryuji thinks that he's a burden to his mother and Makoto to her sister. And so they always throw their lives away/put themsleves in great danger, Makoto when she goes with those strangers in a car to meet Kaneshiro and Ryuji when he stops a taxi by jumping on the road, or the time at Shido's palace when he saves everyone (the scene after that when he gets beat up is still super yikes like wtf do you think you're doing atlus??)

One thing that I always liked about her (that many don't) is that the palace in which she awakens doesn't have "much to do with her" compared to the others. But that's why it's great. Many say it would've been better if the palace was the headmaster's palace instead of "that random mafia guy" however I disagree. The build up to this moment always seems so obvious to me that it surprises me that a lot of people don't see the connection.

The whole build up before her awakening is all the people around her treating her like garbage and using her because she's the goody-two-shoes student council president who apparently only cares about a letter of recommendation and only does all those good things to get praise while we're proven wrong again and again. Does she want a letter of recommendation? Of course. It would be easier to get into a good college and help her sister financially since apparently if you have a letter of recommendation some colleges in Japan will take you for free (if I'm not wrong, I might be saying bullcrap so don't quote me on that). But is she mainly doing this for the letter? No. She does it because it's the right thing to do. She could've easily let those students in debt and tell the headmaster who the phantom thieves are but instead she prioritizes the students of her school.

And that's where all of this comes in: Kaneshiro DOES actually have something to do with Makoto because he attacked the students of HER school. If you get involved with the students of Shujin then you also get involved with Makoto.

But anyway, this turned out so long and I'm not even DONE.

Also how Ryuji and Makoto have similar taste. They're both sports-y, (Ryuji probably finds martial arts awesome I mean come on) and Makoto likes mafia movies which makes me think she also likes "cool" things and same for Ryuji. When Makoto awakened Ryuji was immediately on board calling Makoto an ass whooper, a post-apocalyptic raider and whatnot.

Both of them also get suppressed by their surroundings but for different reasons, Ryuji by the teachers and track team members because he's a ""delinquent"" and Makoto by the students and headmaster because she's the student council president.

Those two just understand eachother I'm telling you. Now just imagine them hanging out with eachother and helping eachother.

Makoto teaching Ryuji fancy Aikido moves he can pull out anytime just in case some crazy teacher has the bad idea to break his legs again so he can defend himself. Ryuji teaching her how to "talk casually" and more like people of her age so she can make friends, and also how to use emojis and play video games. Imagine Makoto saying "for real?!" and sending weird emojis to Ryuji then she has to explain what it means the next day. Like

"Hey uh, Makoto... Is Morgana okay?

-Of course, what do you mean?

-I mean, yesterday at 9pm you sent me this: "Morgana is gonna be delighted *knife emoji* *knife emoji* *cat emoji* *cat emoji* (🔪🔪🐱🐱)" what does that even mean?

-I was cooking something for Morgana since we couldn't bring him sushi yesterday. Is something wrong about that?

- Oh thank God... I thought you were about to kill him.

-What?! That's ridiculous. I would never!"

Ryuji also lends her some shonen and seinen manga because he knows she'll definitely like those (especially the mafia ones). Though they keep that a secret from the others because Makoto doesn't want them to know. But this one time they come into her room and Akira/Ren is like "hmm... I've seen the same mangas in Ryuji's room." So they just nervously laugh it off.

Just IMAGINE the studying scene actually helping Ryuji.

It starts off with Ryuji not even being serious about it and half assing it because he thinks "it's useless I'll never be able to get something better than a low passing grade" because his whole life he's been told that he's stupid and even when he put effort and time into it he wasn't able to get much better.

So then Makoto asks him what kind of method he uses to study and Ryuji's just like?? "What do you mean method? Isn't studying just about reading the same thing over and over again until it gets into your head?"

And so Makoto sighs and explains that there are different ways of memorizing and that everyone has different brains thus different methods of studying. For example she says she's more "manual" so she has to write down the important parts of her lessons a couple of time so she'll remember studying as an "activity/event" of her day thus she remembers what she was writing down because it takes concentration to write something and a councious effort to make a synthesis of all the important parts of her textbooks.

So they make a test to find out what type Ryuji is, Makoto will say 20 completely different words and everytime Ryuji will use a different way to memorize them. The first time around he writes them down then turns the paper so he can't see what he wrote.

He realizes that he was more focused on properly writing down everything she says rather than actually memorizing it so it doesn't work. Then they try again but this time all he has to do is listen carefully to her voice, she says that if it helps him he can also try to make a song with those 20 words.

No good, he's not the auditive type either.

Then lastly Makoto tells him to try to picture every word she says inside of his mind, if it's a tiger he'll picture a tiger. If it's cooking he'll picture someone cooking etc.

And so it ends up working best! He's more of the visual type.

Makoto then talks about the different ways he can study thanks to that. For history he can recreate the stories inside of his mind so anytime he needs to he can play the images in his brain and even if it's not 100% accurate it's fine. Imagine the story you're creating in your mind is a manga based on past events! For math where there isn't much "visualizing" to do, Makoto says he can try to "see" the layout of the page in his mind and if he gets through it a couple of times he can even remember which formula is in which spot of the page which makes it easier to remember them.

Makoto keeps giving him tips and Ryuji listens carefully. She ends her speech by saying that he's not stupid and that disliking studying is normal, having bad grades doesn't make an individual dumb. After seeing that Makoto is serious Ryuji also gets in the "study mood". He's happy because for once he's not being made fun of for really trying his best to get good grades. He feels comfortable with Makoto because she's not looking down on him for having troubles with studying and doesn't mock his efforts.

Thus he ends up having good grades (not Makoto level good but like... B+s and occasional As which seems like a dream for Ryuji.)

Everyone is baffled.

The phantom thieves, the teachers, the students.

It ends up looking really suspicious that he has good grades to the point where people think that he somehow managed to cheat or something. But it's fine, Ryuji doesn't care about what they think and he's super happy at the thought of his mom praising him. The whole time though Makoto is like "I knew it, Ryuji can achieve anything when he really tries." From this point onwards they always study together.

After a while Makoto invites him over since her sister is never home anyways and same for Ryuji. Also the daily lessons they have at school make their way into their conversations thus they pay more attention in class so they can talk about it afterward in their study sessions.

Since Makoto is a third year Ryuji asks her about the things he didn't understand and this helps Makoto to re-check her basics from past years since she tends to forget them and Ryuji also gets interested in third year material then starts getting ahead of his classmates.

This one time he was asked to solve a calculus equation/problem but he wasn't paying attention and he's like... wait... didn't I see this type of thing in Makoto's textbooks? He accidently uses the 3rd year formula instead having no idea that they didn't learn it yet and the teacher is like... "That's... correct? Isn't this third year material though?" And oblivious Ryuji thinks to himself "ah shit, am I gonna get scolded for not paying attention?"

But it's all fine, the teacher was just surprised that Ryuji knew how to use that method and everyone starts thinking that Ryuji is actually secretly super smart and all this time he was failing his tests on purpose to piss the teachers off. From that point onwards he doesn't seem as scary to the others anymore and he gets teased by his classmates sometimes, even the teachers. "So Sakamoto-kun is actually smart huh? Who would've thought."

After a while people start approaching him to ask for help with their homework and with his cheery personality he always explains everything in a super easy way to understand, many start coming to him. Even students from other classrooms then suddenly the "delinquent Sakamoto-kun" isn't scary at all anymore. Poor boy gets teased everyday, especially when they see him talking to Makoto.

"Hey dude! The blond hair doesn't suit you anymore, dye it back to black Sakamoto!!"

"So the student council president is your girlfriend? Makes sense, people who are alike get along right?"

"Aww and here I thought that I had a chance with you... Well, if you're just friends then maybe we could meet this weekend? Just the two of us."

Even Makoto finds teasing him entertaining. She does the typical *wink wink nudge nudge* whenever a girl says she's interested in him. Little does she know that he has someone in his mind already...

ITS EYE AGAINST I

... And me against You. Hello random people of the internet, and the select RvB audience I’m intending to talk to. Time for millions to ignore my existence, while a select few look at my fancy garbage. Now, with no sense of decorum, or tact... I present to you. That Red vs Blue seasons 15 through 17 are continuity breaking and noncanon. To be honest, I’m not overly fond of the over all plotlines and more than a few handfuls of episodes were just... dull. And that’s saying something for a series I’ve been attached to for the last decade. That isn’t to say there weren’t parts I didn’t like. There were plenty of things that were just fantastic and launched perfectly. But let’s get to the whys and hows. Let’s set out the point system: First point. The Blues and Reds, our blue visor assmonkeys... were unnecessarily stupid. They were a copypasta team, with a poor excuse to be there, that not only doesn’t fit what is already established but breaks continuity by being there. If we were to take the rest of the 15-17 series, it’d be easier to make them into alternative universe counter parts or what-ifs, from different timelines caused by the series later use of Time travel. Rather than this blessed mess. They spit in the face of Agent Florida’s workhistory. And while you can see where the idea came from, the execution and establishment was lacking. The very fact that it includes Doc already tells you that we’re not with Agent Kansas anymore, and that it utterly destroyed Doc’s history prior to coming to Blood Gulch. Second Point. The Time Travel. [frustrated exhausted ugh-ing] The best I can say is that the series analysis of Time Travel was fantastic. It acknowledged that the inclusion of Time Travel is meant to break continuity and reshape it. The difference here, is that it only broke continuity. In fact it shattered it so badly that we’d have to ask the Homestuck Fandom to pick the remaining pieces back up, and classpect it for good measure. The fact that Human History was so severely fusterclucked by our Teams already shows you how much respect Continuity got in these last seasons, as well as how much respect to Canon. And then there were the “Gods”. Just... Introducing someone for the funny designs and the fantastic graphic and digital movements is nice, but it doesn’t do anything. See every pitfall CGI and 3D ran into for the last few decades. See, RvB is meant to run along side Halo without destroying one another in an “Upstoppable Force meets Immovable Object” sort of way. And if nothing else, its already established that RvB also has ties to Marathon too (which, while muddled up, still works). And while plenty of the shenanigans were fantastic (Loved that Cyclops scene), the reason they got there was Weak, and it just utterly detonates itself like Church and his stomach bomb... Surrounded by people you hate, and being hunted down by the world’s worst player at a knock-knock jokes. The Third Point I despise Jax. ... I kid, that isn’t the third point. But I still don’t like the Jax. His growth into a terrible director was funny, but it doesn’t really save him or his purpose in the series. I digress. Its what I dub the “Super Hero Ex Machina”. In a “Super Hero Ex Machina” situation, reality crashes in, breaks both Narrative flow and rules, for drama. And example is with Spiderman and his web shooting. In his narrative, he can save someone easily from falling with his web shot. But if the Drama Machina Maker is introduced, then the reality of the situation crashes down as the force of the fall would completely shatter the victim’s skeleton if Spiderman caught them. As this is not already established as happening before, its only there to cause drama and not meant for any serious development or character arc. Or if a show adheres to keeping the status quo at all costs. Things that would realistically and permanently mess up the status quo are solved in 1 or 2 episodes. But if Reality crashes because Plot said so, it breaks the established rules of the Narrative (and pacing). Especially if said plotpoint could have already been solved in prior episodes easily. And that’s what they pulled on Agent Washington and his throat injury. Washington is an established survivor. He has survived some pretty messed up stuff, both mentally and physically, and he’s come so far as a character. To a point where he’s almost unrecognizable from when he was first established as the “Noir Detective Soldier Mercenary Man who plays by corrupt rules but still shines that hurting heart of gold once in a while”. Some of the stuff he’s had to survive, and potentially had to survive would’ve killed normal people. Even his writers had to take a step back and say, “No he can’t survive getting cut in half by a car”. RvB is good about changing status quo, and keeping to a rule of “actions have consequences” in order to both forward character and story. So it isn’t like they’re above permanently messing someone up (... Church.) But there are Rules on how its Handled. Story will establish and evolve said rules over time, this is true, but its a “more things change, more they stay the same” situation. And Washington’s injury... breaks that. For easy reason; For one thing, we already have a Freelancer with throat injuries, and he got them in a far worse scenario. Agent Maine was bloody machine gunned in the throat, then tossed off a freeway stories up from a ground we never even saw. And all he got was a messed up voice. There isn’t a good reason to give Wash that injury, realistic as it may be, besides playing it for Drama. And while such a circumstance should be given both the realism and seriousness it deserves, this only works if, you know, don’t play it to make a person or people suffer for Drama. Does this forward Character? No. No it doesn’t. The seasons retreat everyone’s character arcs. What little it does show is how far everyone has come... By making them take 20 steps back, and 5 steps forward. An ultimately useless gesture that neither show cases the human condition of “repeat until you finally get the lesson” or “sometimes shit happens”. Does it move the story? Only for drama. Which is a very weak reason. Even worse, as the series has already established that it can think deeply and use drama as a tool and not a plot point. If not for character or story, is it meant to be a metaphor? Metaphor for what. RvB doesn’t do metaphors. If not metaphor, is it supposed to be informative of the condition itself? RvB has bloody PSAs. No. A story is decent enough if it can mix those questions up without one consuming the other. But there wasn’t a point to do it. Just to see Wash or Carolina or the guys to suffer? To show that sometimes people get injuries they don’t bounce back from? Are you Kidding? We just permanently lost Church, and they set out to find the possibility of his existence again! That right there already Tells you that sometimes folks don’t Bounce Back. There was an entire Arc for Caboose, fer the gods’ sake, talking about it. CABOOSE. What the flyin Fu-- Ahem. There was already a ruling about Actions have Consequences. It was apart of the status quo that went as far back as the Blood Gulch Chronicles. Its filed under “The More things change, the more they stay the same”, and even throughout the Reconstruction series, there were plenty of characters pulling permanently changing stunts that affected them through the rest of their lives, or caused their death for it. [deep breath, lets it out] So. Inspite of my many problems with S15-17, there are things I adored about it. - Donut and Caboose’s arcs. Fantastically done. Caboose getting to the understanding he got in S14 about losing friends was heart breaking and beautiful. Donut’s may seem like retread and flanderization, but that is actually easily explained. When you’re under sufficient stress, your coping mechanisms will boost out from 10 to 100, and just because you’re now fully aware of it doesn’t mean you have the power or development yet to stop. It was a fantastic look into his character. - Sister. They made her into more than just a gimick and Grif’s Sister, which was a problem I had with her in Blood Gulch. Good patch up there. - The Background info and the details in Background Info with our main characters. Ye Gods, we got some backstory! The humor works, the seriousness works, its a beautiful set of puzzle pieces that fit snuggly into both canon and continuity. - Chrovos. Inspite of the time travel plot pitfalls, I actually really liked Chrovos. Wish they did more with them (Him? Her? I don’t remember if they established their pronouns). Did not like Jenkins, inspite of him being created out of a cut character. The Gods didn’t work very much either, and would’ve been better suited as characters that weren’t “gods”. It doesn’t help that they just... had inconsistant rules. - The Freelancers. I love the introduction to the Freelancers and all their nice armor designs. Too bad they’re all feckin’ dead. - Temple. I actually really liked Temple and the idea behind him. However, instead of the malakey we got, and the Time Travel Nonsense that could be theorized afterwards. It would’ve worked better if he had been the leader of a Cult of Personality or sorts, purposely and badly mimicking the hype of the RvB teams’ fame and gathering surviving former stim troopers. The terrorist thing could work, and so could the Church plot. Everything else was stupid. Remove the Time Travel, this isn’t Homestuck Hour. Thanks for you for your continued reading. ... oh Right, I forgot. As awesome as it was to see Locus again, the uselessness of Wash’s throat injury and how he was reintroduced makes him more into a Deus ex Machina (and not that Halo 3 Machinima from way back). Its like fitting a circle peg into a square hole... But getting it stuck halfway and ruining the children’s puzzle toy. ADDENDUM (edited) I hate Hate HATED how Vic parodied Church’s epilogue speech, and I just about wish Church would come back just to beat the shiznet out of him for it.

The Joker x Reader - “John Wick” Part 2

Y/N left The Organization 3 years ago for the one reason strong enough to make her settle down: love. But after tragedy crushed her to pieces, she decided to leave The Joker and seek refuge with an old friend and mentor - John Wick. Needless to say The King of Gotham can’t accept his wife running away without a word, especially since he didn’t have a chance to tell her things she might want to hear.

Part 1   Part 3

2 Days Later

You walk down on Cherry Lane Street when you lastly get to your destination: the homeless guy begging for change in front of the fence surrounding Yellow Star bus station. You take out your empty vial and a gold coin from your pocket, dropping them in his cup; might as well take advantage of your numerous resources while visiting the area.

“God bless, miss!” the man rattles the container and you whisper:

“I need a refill for this medication from Dr. Wong.”

“Give us one hour,” he replies in a low tone, then louder. “Thank you, miss! God bless!”

So many people around and nobody notices the courier on a bike swiftly retrieving the ampule from the bum’s fingers.

You start walking away, willing to kill some time until your order is ready: it’s a nice morning and it would be better to wait than drive back to John’s house. In the matter of fact, one of your favorite coffee shops in town is just three blocks further and you have to admit you’ve missed the place. Maybe your gracious host wants something too; better call and find out.

“Hello?” he picks up immediately.

“Hi, I’m going to Kavarna. Should I bring you a drink?”

“Oh, absolutely. Large espresso, quadruple shot.”

“You mean heart attack?”

Jonathan laughs, confirming his strong refreshment.

“Yes, I think that’s the other name for it.”

“Suit yourself,” you lift your shoulders up. “I will become a legend by effortlessly killing Baba Yaga. You don’t have a bounty on your head, do you? I can collect the money also.”

“Nope, no bounty,” he informs, amused at your statement.

“Damn… I’m disappointed Mister Wick, but I will still deliver your coffee because we’re friends,” you decide to be lenient.

“I appreciate your effort,” John smirks and Y/N huffs at his cheekiness.

“It will cost you 3 gold coins!”

“Three?! That’s a rip off,” the complaint follows.

“I had to eat your chicken Alfredo so you owe me,” the reminder makes him snicker.

“Fair enough,” he stretches on the couch and rolls his eyes when the doorbell suddenly rings. “Later,” Jonathan cuts it short, wondering who the heck is bothering him this early in the day.

“Byeeee,” you hang up, continuing your promenade towards 87th Avenue.

“Coming!!!!” he yells since the doorbell is obnoxiously pressed over and over again. “I said I’m coming!” John hurries and yanks at the nob, surprised to see your husband as soon as the door is opened. “Mister J,” he sort of greets the uninvited guest.

“Wick,” The Joker sucks on his teeth, barging in the next second. “Is my wife here?” he eyeballs the living room, completely worn out after the recent sleepless nights.

“No,” the simple response is ignored.

“This is my fifth stop in two days,” J emphasizes his unfruitful quest. “I’m a man of many tricks, yet it’s not easy to find her. Do you mind if I take a look around?” your spouse pretends to be polite while stomping up the stairs, not that he got an OK from the owner of the house.

“Yes, I do mind!” John frowns, closely pursuing The King of Gotham.

“That’s too bad, Wick! Call the cops then!” The Joker barks, glancing throughout the 4 bedrooms upstairs. There’s no trace of Y/N and he descends the staircase, remembering there are 3 more bedrooms on the ground level. “She didn’t contact you at all?” he inquires and freezes when the first inspected room reveals a familiar sight adorning the nightstand: a small shrine containing Kase’s framed picture, a folded blue onesie and the tiniest pair of socks.

J approaches the cherished tokens, annoyed at your friend’s stunt.

“She’s not here, hm?!” his clenched jaw makes it difficult to articulate the words.

“She’s not!” John insinuates the obvious, apparently unconcerned by The Joker’s escalating temper. But that’s only on the surface because he knows what your husband is capable of: in his case it never takes more than a push for a total mood switch.

“Don’t play games with me, Wick!! She’s hiding right here!”

“She’s not hiding! If she was, you’d never find her. You were expected to show up: like I said, Y/N is not hiding! You ask if she’s here and she’s not home. Frankly, Mister J, I don’t remember ever trespassing on your property!”

The Clown Prince of Crime stands in the middle of the room with his mouth opened, appalled he’s being lectured.

“You have some nerve, Wick!” he shrieks, struggling not to snap at Jonathan’s honest remarks. “I’m prepared to overlook the outburst with one condition: don’t text her I arrived. I presume you have her new number?...“

***************

After one hour and a half

“Jonathan, I got your coffee!” you enter the empty kitchen, yet there’s no trace of him. “John?” you set the cup on the counter and turn around at the husky intonation:

“He’s in the courtyard.”

You glare at The Joker with mixed feelings; the only ones he can actually read are hate and disgust.

“What do you want?” Y/N sneers.

He’s more than displeased at your bitterness after tracking you down for days: it would be really nice for you to show some gratitude. Unfortunately, that’s not how things work.

“Is that how you address your partner?!”

“Ex-partner!” you persist and J has to say it:

“I wasn’t aware we divorced!”

“I thought my message was clear,” you interrupt his nonsense before it spirals out of control.

“You left without giving me instructions on what to do with the baby stuff,” your estranged spouse grumbles.

“I told you to do whatever you want with the items I left behind!”

“Meaning?!” he shouts, exasperated.

“Donate them, burn them, put them in the garbage. I don’t care! If you’re confused, request help from your girlfriend! I’m certain she’ll be more than happy to oblige!”

The Joker would normally lose it at this point, however there’s something distracting him from going entirely bonkers.

“My what?!...”

“Your mistress, J ! The woman you’ve been dating! Or are you going to play stupid and deny it? I saw you, ok? So don’t even try your sneaky ways! I’m not five years old!! And definitely not an idiot!” you lash out since you have plenty to mention on the subject. “Is that why you didn’t…” and your voice breaks, “… drive Kase to the Penthouse? Because you had a meeting with her?...”

The King of Gotham has no idea what to do with all the accusations thrown at him; it’s obvious no matter what he utters it’s going to fail.

“I don’t have a mistress, alright?!” his index finger goes straight up in the air.

“Then what were you doing at that woman’s house? Was she polishing your gun?!”

To his own amazement, J has to recollect from your criticism the best way he knows how:

“Nobody’s been polishing my gun!”

Your ears are ringing from the outrage building up in your heart, that’s why you barely discern what he’s pronouncing.

“Murderer…” you mumble and that’s enough to stop his defensive rampage: a plain word that’s been used to describe him a million times, yet it never came from Y/N and not with such a heavy connotation. “You…you were supposed to bring my son home in a car… instead he was brought to me in a coffin… O-only three weeks old…”

The Joker would love to retaliate but you’re crying so hard the only sentence coming out is very far from his intended resentment:

“I know I should’ve driven the car… I didn’t… and I can’t take it back. I also know you tried to kill me; I was pretending to be asleep. If you detest me so much, why didn’t you pull the trigger? It was impossible to miss two inches away from my face.”

The lack of an explanation gives J a nudge in the appropriate direction:

“Do you know why I didn’t react at all? I trusted you wouldn’t do it.”

You keep on wiping your tears and John slides the patio door, apologizing in his own residence.

“Umm…Sorry to intrude: someone just tossed this over the fence,” he shows the couple a piece of paper. “Everything good?” he scans the premises since the tense atmosphere worries him, especially Y/N struggling to regain her composure.

“What’s with that paper?” The Joker growls, dismissing the question.

“It’s a message from The Bowery King, requesting a meeting at your and I quote: earliest convenience for urgent business.”

“Urgent business?...” you repeat, sniffling. “Regarding?...”

“It doesn’t specify,” Jonathan hands you the missive and you’re intrigued.

“He never summons anybody unless it’s important… I’m going,” you decide on the spot, jiggling the keys from your car.

“I’m coming too,” J offers to accompany his distressed wife.

“I’m going alone!” you circle around him and the obnoxious comment annoys an already upset Y/N.

“Fine, but I’m coming with you.”

*************

“Please, take a seat,” the man extends his left arm towards the two chairs located in front of his desk. “I was hoping Mister Joker would join us,” he intertwines his fingers while maintaining a calm smile.

“Can you please tell me why I’m here?” you finally speak after not making a sound the whole trip; you found it useless to launch a conversation: the confinement of a car was overwhelming when your undesired escort couldn’t probably wait for a second chance to fight.

“Of course,” the grin widens. “Though I’m afraid I must open a can of worms; I urge you to acknowledge it’s necessary in order to enlighten the mystery of this gathering. No objections? Awesome,” he wiggles in his beat up recliner, delighted to initiate his debriefing. “Mister Joker, is it true that in the past 6 months you’ve been frequenting a certain establishment belonging to a Miss Evelyn Black?”

“Excuse me?” J leans over the desk and you close your eyes, sickened at the already bad vibe given from the strange situation.

“Sir, please keep in mind I am not a judge and I mean no disrespect,” The Bowery King lifts his arms in surrender. “I am merely trying to aid and I swear it with all make sense in the end. So, Mister Joker, did you or did you not?”

Your husband puckers his lips, muttering mostly to himself.

“Yeah.”

“And are you aware Miss Black accommodates a lot of gentlemen with her busy schedule?”

“Is that her name?” you finally growl, numbness taking over. “Six months?” you don’t give J an opportunity to reply to your first inquiry. “You started seeing that woman six months ago?! When I was pregnant with our son?!” the angered wife is slowly transforming into the person she was before leaving the organization and The Bowery King is relying on it. “Did the sight of me carrying our baby gross you out??!!”

“What?!” The Joker snaps. “What are you talking about?! You didn’t gross me out! How dare you meddling in my private affairs?!” J counterattacks the man’s statement, feeling cornered from both sides. “Who do you think you are, hm?!”

“I didn’t blame you for anything Mister Joker,” the devious individual affirms. “Like I said, I’m no judge.”

“Then what’s the point of this charade?” your spouse yells and it’s a great relief humiliation can’t be measured because you probably surpassed the threshold.

“Did you know that Magnus Stonnenberg is one of her passionate admirers?” The King’s revelation drops the hint and your body instantly stiffens.

“No! Why the hell should I care?!” J yells, unable to control his disposition after what he perceives to be a despicable insult.

“Magnus… Magnus was just declared ex-communicado two days ago,” you disclose, puzzled. “I was at the Continental when it happened: he killed Anuscka Volovdya on hotel’s ground.”

“He sure did,” the man agrees. “Do you know why?”

“If you don’t quit this show, I’m gonna blow your brains out! I don’t care I’m on your territory!” The Joker’s psychotic gaze underlines the threat he’s ready to fulfill; the Soup Kitchen owner takes a deep breath, rushing towards the conclusion.

“Magnus Stonnenberg is a very jealous man, Mister Joker. Maybe he didn’t like the fact you were spending so much time with the lady he adores; he might have even thought you’re her new favorite. There were…” and The Bowery King pauses,”…reported instances when he allegedly attacked, wounded or even killed men that got too close to Miss Black.”

“And how the fuck is this relevant to me?!” your husband is preparing to jump over the desk and squeeze the life out of your insolent host.

“If I may be brutally blunt, sir,” The Bowery King accentuates each term, “you’re a man nobody likes to mess with. So maybe instead of a face to face confrontation, Stonnenberg might have chosen a different approach: if you took something he loved from him, maybe he took something you loved from you?”

“What are you saying?” you ask, perplexed. “He was involved in the car crash that killed my baby?!”

The Joker momentarily forgot his indignation since he can’t believe the sentences pouring out of the man comfortably resting in the recliner.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying,” The Bowery King smirks. “There’s only one important detail though: your son was removed from the car before it was smashed to pieces.”

J gasps and you cover your mouth with shaky fingers, sobbing at the unexpected revelation.

“My… my son’s alive??!!”

“This is what I managed to find out from my sources: Magnus plotted for a while, waiting for the perfect occasion to strike. The opportunity arose when your child was send home in the vehicle with just one driver at the stop light on Montgomery Avenue; as you know the area is pretty much abandoned. The driver might have thought it was safe to take a deserted route, yet it was Stonnenberg’s chance to strike. It’s not hard to kill one chauffeur, remove a three weeks old from his car seat and replace him with God knows what. It’s not hard if you have accomplices also.”

You’re becoming increasingly agitated and The Joker’s intimidating silence prompts last bits of information.

“It seems Anuscka Volovdya was one of Magnus’s main conspirators. When he didn’t pay her the promised price, she menaced to jeopardize the entire operation. Two days ago at the Continental, Anuscka found out you were there and she planned to confess. Magnus couldn’t have that happen so he executed her even if that resulted in him being declared ex-communicado. I assume it’s better to have your revenge no matter the consequences, if the final result is the same: you’ll never know your son didn’t die in the car accident.”

“Are you sure Kase is still alive? Where is he?” Y/N whispers in disbelief.

“Not sure, but I’m working on finding out as we speak,” The Bowery King reassures and you abruptly stand up from your chair, deciding it’s time to bail.

“Thank you very much! Spare no expense in finding out what really happened to my baby! I will be back with compensation,” you storm out of the room and The Joker follows, fuming at the shocking news.

“Slow down, would you?” J grabs your hand and it’s enough to make you burst. You aggressively push him away, hissing:

“This is all your fault! You couldn’t keep it in your pants and now I have no idea where our baby is! I don’t know if anybody feeds him, changes him or holds him!! Or maybe he was abandoned in a ditch to die anyway!!”

“I didn’t sleep with that woman, do you understand?! What the hell is wrong with everybody?!”

Y/N has no more tears to cry and no more endurance for lies; she has a purpose again and it doesn’t include the man she considers her ex.

You rush on the convoluted hallways, ignoring his justifications and almost bite one of The King men’s head off that is brave enough to verbalize what the rest of the crew is curious about:

“Hey Y/N, are you back?”

“YES, I AM BACK!!” the ferocious attitude makes him shrivel up while placing his rags in the locker:

“Jesus, I was just asking…” he quietly protests, glad to see you are exiting the building without further retribution.

You are the first one to get in the car and immediately lock it before J gets in.

“Hey, open up!” he knocks on the window and has to step aside when you race out of the parking lot in a frenzy.

“Are you serious?” he flares his arms around when John steadily drives up to him; your friend was patiently waiting outside since he didn’t want to intrude on the meeting.  

“Need a ride?” Jonathan suggests and The Clown gets in the SUV, simmering with vexation. “What happened?” the question instigates a candid reaction:

“I fucked up.”

Also read: MASTERLIST

You can follow me on Ao3 and Wattapad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

Empress Theresa, Chapter 1

(This is a direct transcription of my tweets, so I apologize if it gets choppy at times) DISCLAIMER: Please read the preface before you continue on!  PAGE 1   This is a terrible start to the book. There's nothing here to gain the interest of the reader nor is there anything that could potentially give you a clue to who Theresa is. You get who her parents are, but nothing about her parents (e.g. If they're important people) "I was the Princess in the Sullivan clan of Framingham, Massachusetts because besides being cute I was a whiz in school and had a good disposition." This sentence makes me die inside every time I re-read it. What does it even mean to have a 'good disposition'? This is the first time I've ever read someone describing themselves as having a 'good disposition'. "All the relatives expected great things from me." And then not even a paragraph later it says; "Nobody could have dreamed of what I would do a few years later, and nobody would have believed it if they'd been told." This is a conflicting message here, Theresa. Did they expect great things from you or did nobody expect you to do anything big? "Prime Minister Blair said I'd still be remembered in a million years." Okay, so we know that you're doing something big now, but you just introduced a character who we don't know. At all. What's the context behind all of this? What kind of person is Prime Minister Blair? "Did you catch that?" Yes, I fucking caught that. You literally just said it. "Churchill, Hitler, and Lincoln..." I don't like the way that these are ordered. It's alphabetical, but going in historical context would sound nicer in my opinion. "Lincoln, Hitler, Churchill..." That's not even counting that she just compared herself to being greater than Hitler. There are so many other people who are better that could have been brought up here and not someone who committed mass genocide and traumatized humanity. Directly after that, Charles Martel is brought up in a long paragraph that sounds like someone who just watched a documentary and is eager to share everything they just learned with their friends who could not give less of a shit. It's pointless to have it there and adds nothing. "...but Prime Minister Blair said I'd be remembered for a million years." You said that not even a paragraph ago. I didn't forget, I promise. I may have the attention span of a peanut, but my short-term memory isn't completely dead. Though my last few brain cells may be dead after I finish all 465 pages of this monster. "I was the last person you'd expect to earn this accolade." Contradicting to what you said earlier of all your relatives expecting big things of you. Not to mention, I don't know who you or anyone else is yet Theresa. I can't fucking say if you would be the last person expected "When this story began I was a little girl who didn't have much of a clue about anything." Why not start the story here? It's far better than that big ramble you just had. This is far more interesting than "I'm Theresa, the younger daughter of blah blah blah." "My job as a kid was to figure out what the heck was going on and what to do about it. It's not easy when you're young and everything is brand new." No shit honey. Except the thing is, life is so much easier when you're younger. you don't have to worry about taxes. Or your employer forgetting to mail you your W-2. Or if your employer does mail you your W-2 but your mail-lady delivers it to the wrong house so some random person has your W-2 and social security number now. You don't have to worry about that as a kid. Life as a kid is easy. ide note: The text in this book is fucking huge. Like it was written so children could easily read it. PAGE 2 The way the first paragraph on this page starts out is jarring and throws the reader out of any flow that may have been there before (There wasn't one there before, but I digress). It then is quickly followed by her father making a comment to her about being the captain of her ship, without actually being a quote from him. It would have been more interesting if it was a direct quote from her father rather than just a passive memory with how she phrases it. What is says is, "He said I had to be the captain of my ship, but sometimes the seas would be rough." Which is poor phrasing in my opinion. There are far better ways to phrase this that give some more character and depth to the relationship between Theresa and her father. A better way to phrase it would be; "He said 'You have to be the captain of your own ship. Sometimes the seas will be rough, but you need to keep pushing through it until you find smooth seas again.'" However, it's not phrased like this or anything remotely close to this. It's then followed very quickly by saying "I had to learn all I could about the world." How does this relate to what your father told you in any way shape or form? I am so confused and feel like what your father told you was completely disregarded or misinterpreted. "I wondered why should I be worrying about it in the fourth grade? I'd soon find out." My Grammarly is kicking in and telling me that 'worrying' is used wrong here. This is a direct quote from the book, and I have to agree. Once again, this relates nothing to what was just said. I want to scratch this entire page out so far, but I've refrained from doing so. Then we come to the first paragraph I have completely scribbled out. I hate it so much. It is a shit paragraph in every way humanly possible. It relates nothing to the first sentence and could completely be ignored and taken out of the book without changing anything. “Everybody has pressures. There are two kinds. One is threats to your life and health. I had more than my share of that with a thousand assassins wanting to get me. The other kind is bearing responsibility for other people's lives and welfare. That's really tough if you care...  ...about them. I set new world records in that department. People were sure I'd crack under the pressure, but I didn't. It will take smarter heads than mine to figure out why not." There is so much I want to say about this paragraph that I can't express in words, just guttural, angry screams. I scribbled it out for a reason and that reason still stands true. It is complete and utter shit. Side note: "It will take smarter heads than mine to figure out why not." Thank you for the reassurance that you're a dumb shit, Theresa. I needed it. "I'll be telling my own story which is a good thing because nobody knows it as well as me." We are already all well aware this is an 'autobiography' at this point, Theresa. There's no need for you to tell us that. The fucking point of an autobiography is to tell your own story. More scribbled out sentences about her saying that there's stuff she can't know because she wasn't there. Then she comments on a conversation between Prime Minister Blair (who we still know nothing about) and President Stinson (a new character who we also know nothing about) and how they were talking to each other on the phone. Theresa then assumes that P.M. Blair and President Stinson were talking about how they would stop her if she got out of control. How pig-headed can she get? Not everything is about you. The entire world doesn't revolve around you, bitch. Except, oh wait, in this book, it does! Another scribbled out section I scribbled out so horribly I can barely read it. I will do my best to write it down here so you can suffer with me. "But remember you'll learn things in the same sequence I did. Somebody else telling my story could only say what I did... ... in the world. They couldn't get in my head like you will. You'll see what a horrible, worldwide mess I had to deal with." Ah. I remember why I scribbled it out so badly now. Because it's garbage. Even more so than the first paragraph that I tried to destroy. She's just repeating the fact that this is a fucking autobiography. I've read good autobiographies, where you actually get into the author's mind. So far, this shit isn't it. "My story began quietly with no hint of what was coming." All of that before was pointless. And I will tell you now, most of the details that come after are pointless. This book refuses to be clear and concise, which is a good thing a good majority of the time. The book started terribly and wrote the whole tone for the first few pages, and so far, I'm more upset than when I started. Sidenote #2: After this I'll try to do Chapters in these tweet chains, mentioning (for the most part) the stuff that stands out the most to me. Unless I run into a page that is truly the worst thing ever. The Rest of Chapter 1  Starting on page 3 Starting off strong, I scribbled out the entire first paragraph because it's all terrible. It's Theresa describing her older sister who has absolutely no importance to the story whatsoever and then stroking her own ego by boasting about how... ...she's a whiz in school and her sister isn't. "She's thinking of going to one of the many trade schools in Boston after high school Mom and Dad said I should go to college." These two really don't share any correlation to each other besides being education after highschool. Not to mention, I think Norman, the author, is strongly trying to suggest that trade school isn't nearly as good as university or college when that couldn't be less true. Trade school is just as valid as a university or a college. You gain new skills and can enter a career far... ...quicker than you could at a 4-year university and then some if you're going for a Masters or P.H.d. in your chosen field. Also, I really hate Twitter's character limit. It's fucking stupid and makes these reviews hard as hell to write out. Theresa drags things out more, shares a story that seems currently irrelevant about her mother seeing a fox that came and sat in front of her six months before she was born. (Keep this in mind. Six months before Theresa was born). Theresa even says that this strange... ...event seemed unimportant and that her parents forgot about it for 18 years. Fuck, if something like that happened to me, I'd forget about it too. I certainly wouldn't remember it 18 years later. I can barely remember what I had for breakfast last week. And then more than halfway down the page, Norman finally starts the fucking story. Theresa's doing some summer reading for school when she sees a fox walking along the edge of the woods. The fox ducks into the woods before walking back out, which is completely... ... irrelevant and yet for some reason, Norman felt it was important to include despite the fact it adds nothing and just feels like lazy writing and editing. Speaking of editing, I am dead convinced that Norman didn't have an editor for this book or even look over a chapter... ...after he wrote it. "In an instant, faster than you could blink an eye, a softball sized white light emerged from the fox and went straight into my stomach." Besides being poorly written, keep in mind the fact that she just said it was in the blink of an eye. Theresa goes inside and has a pointless as fuck conversation with her older sister about seeing the fox. Rather than like any rational person who might glance outside to look because apparently seeing "Foxes in the daylight never happens" as Norman puts it, she just says that... ... the fox won't hurt her before going back to the living room never to be mentioned again for another 12 pages or so. Theresa assumes that because she hasn't eaten yet she's hallucinating or having a vivid daydream, so she goes to eat and we get an unnecessary description of... ..what she makes. We also get this gem of a line; "At age ten I was already conscious of my weight and tried to stay skinny." There is so much wrong with this that I can't even put it into words. So. So. So much. Specifically the 'at age ten' part too. More weird phrasing and poor writing later and Theresa determines that yes, it must have been that she hadn't eaten anything because after eating she feels less worried about it. Then there's a HUGE fucking heat spike according to Norman. Enough so that the firemen have to get involved to see what the fuck is up. Theresa somehow has this meta-knowledge that this has to do with the white light that jumped into her stomach. Long story short, someone called the firemen because the heat spiked up so massively and they thought it might be a fire without going outside or looking around to see if it actually was a fire. We get an absurdly long and very dull section about how the firemen started poking around trying to figure out if it was underground or not, which is completely unnecessary and adds nothing to the story in my opinion. I have scribbled it all out because it's all shit. Then we get another fucking gem that Norman uses a total of one time and never brings up ever again. It gave me an idea that would have made this book far more interesting than it ended up being, but it's never mentioned again. Its sole purpose for existing was to give Norman... ... an excuse as to why Theresa didn't talk to anyone. "My Cousin Mary was diagnosed a schizophrenic and the whole Sullivan clan was biting their nails waiting for the gene to show up in some other family member. It wasn't going to be me! I resolved to never tell anybody... ... Not even my parents would know. They'd think I was ill like Cousin Mary. I didn't need it." This alone caused me so much anger I put down the book and didn't pick it up again for a good couple of hours. I honestly don't feel like I need to explain why this is so terrible. But as for the idea it gave me, the book could be far better if it turned out that Theresa was schizophrenic. That this was all a hallucination. It would explain a lot of her actions later on in the book, especially when she experiences extreme paranoia. Well, Norman doesn't call it paranoia. It's just Theresa being 'super smart and know just what's up'. We learn shortly after that there are government officials who turned up to watch 'someone' (spoilers: It's Theresa). Somehow everyone knows they're officials despite... ... never approaching them and instead trusting the word of a neighbor who said the police approached them, were shown badges by these officials, and then the police left them alone afterward. Theresa somehow knows that these people are here to watch her and for some reason... ... she calls the operator to see if they're spying on her or have her phones tapped. I guess this is just supposed to be common knowledge that if you call the operator and ask them for a number and if there's a delay they then you're being spied on? After all, it's not like the operator is human and they take time to look up numbers and whatnot. But this time around there's not a delay so Theresa concludes that they aren't listening to her. Not sure how this makes sense, but okay. Theresa and her mom decide to go shopping and Theresa spends the entire time thinking that men are following her everywhere. Despite the fact that it's a public space and they're different men. The first instance is at the parking garage, where someone parked close to them... ... and then followed them to the surface. Then they go to a very popular and big brand book store, Barnes and Noble, and Theresa sees a different man who she thinks is watching her as well. She goes to the second floor by herself because I guess her mom is okay with that. When I was ten, my mom wouldn't let me wander over to the next aisle to look at stuff no matter how much I insisted. So you know, not judging her mother's parenting skills, but I'm lowkey judging her mother's parenting skills. After that they go to McDonalds and another man gets in line behind them and leaves around the same time they do. Theresa thinks that this man is also following her. And then, a man who was on the corner started walking in their direction. For some reason, Theresa thinks all... ... these people are spying on her. Which is total bullshit in all honesty and is incredibly paranoid behavior. However, Norman doesn't write it that way and instead writes it as Theresa just knowing what the fuck is up. When she gets home, Theresa calls the operator again and this time, instead of taking half a minute to get the number, the operator takes a minute. Please tell me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty certain that doesn't mean that someone has tapped your phone. Aside from that, I've also started to realize just how much Norman really likes to be as precise as he can be with his numbers and it's super fucking annoying to read and I wish that I didn't have to read it. But I am. Blah, Blah, Blah, more boring stuff and then Theresa goes to a movie story with her mom. She gets 2001: A Space Odyssey and apparently that's super, super fucking important because that's how the officials know that Theresa has an alien inside of her. I don't see the... ... correlation but you know what, maybe it's just me who's a dumb shit and Norman was right all along. Besides that, the movie is also super important because Theresa names that white ball of light that flew into her that she dismissed because she thought she was hungry. However, that's just something Norman seems to have conveniently forgotten right now and Theresa has just accepted the fact that it really did happen. "Mom did most of the grocery shopping on Saturday and I usually went with her because Catherine wandered off with her friends." Someone, please tell me how the first part really relates to the second part because I can't make sense of how your sister not going... ... to hang out with her friends would keep you from going with your mom to go grocery shopping. Especially when there's a seven-year difference between you two. One of the gov't officials approaches Theresa when she's alone in the cereal aisle (once again, judging her mother's skills as a parent), and tells her to call her when she's alone. That seems vaguely pedophilic to me, but that might just be me. Either way, Theresa somehow knows that this woman is working for the officials who are watching her. We get another paragraph of a line; "The woman knew that I knew about my watchers. I had often stared at them. So this woman also knew I had to think she was one of them and I... ... had to be curious enough to talk to her." This is so convoluted and overthought. I hate it in every way shape and form. It's so damn repetitive and gets repeated several times throughout the next few paragraphs. But I digress. Theresa goes home and goes to her room and pulls out her cellphone and calls the woman. We found out her name is Jan and we get the most boring conversation in the history of conversations. Yet for some reason, Norman has the audacity to say that... ... it is the most important interview since Moses came down from the mountains. I don't read the Bible, but as far as I'm aware, Moses was never interviewed after he came down with the 10 commandments. Correct me if I'm wrong. Theresa describes the white ball of light in so much detail that you realize, there's no fucking way she could have been able to see all of it if it was "faster the blink of an eye." So I guess Norman conveniently overlooked that part.1 Theresa says she named the white ball of light HAL from the movie. I don't see why, but she did. More boring as fuck conversation giving us the information we already know. We know that the woman's name is Jan now. Jan tells Theresa that they're always watching and listening... ... to her. After reading this I am under the belief that Jan should never ever be allowed to handle any cases dealing with children ever again because she uses so many fear tactics that would absolutely terrify a child. Jan also tells Theresa that she can't talk to anybody or tell anyone about HAL. I don't know about you all, but when I was younger, and someone told me not to tell anybody about something that involved me, I really wanted to tell someone about that thing. More boring as shit exposition that's poorly written and then we jump forward a few days. This is where my suspicions about Norman loving being super precise with numbers were confirmed. He also goes into way too much detail about gardening and weed pulling. Anyways, this is where we learn that Theresa has an aimbot basically. She woke up with a small orange dot in the center of her vision and automatically assumed it had something to with HAL. But she learns it's an aimbot because she can throw rocks and hit a watering can no... ...matter how far away she is from it. She then says it has no use, but I think Norman means that it has no practical use. It has plenty of uses, just not many can be applied to everyday life. Pretty quickly after Theresa finds out she has an aimbot she wants to play baseball with a neighbor boy so she goes to his house and talks to his mom asking to play with him. Except Norman doesn't write 'his mom', no, Norman writes 'The mother.' The Mother. The one true mother of all mothers. The queen of mothers. The mother that all mothers descended from. She is THE Mother. Aside from calling her 'The Mother' over and over again, Theresa tosses the baseball back and forth and doesn't miss no matter what. She comments constantly on how bad Tommy (the neighbor kid) is at this. Eventually Tommy's dad (referred to as 'The dad')... The Dad. The one true dad. The one Dad to rule them all. The Dad that all Dad's descend from. He is the ultimate Dad. He is THE Dad. ... comes out and takes over for Tommy, playing baseball with Theresa. I don't know why, but this came off the wrong way when I was reading it and just didn't seem right. Norman becomes even more repetitive in his writing, "This was August and it was very hot. "Let's call it quits, Theresa" the father said. "It's getting hot."" More shit I scribbled out because it's fucking horrible. Basically so you don't have to live through the same hell I did, I'll summarize even more. Theresa gets super strength because of HAL. She knows this because she broke a steak sauce bottle white trying to open it... ... because she was eating a steak for lunch. Because ten-year-olds can cook steaks for lunch. When I was ten I could barely fucking cook macaroni and cheese for myself. This is all boring as shit but the super-strength makes Theresa want to go and talk to her priest. Father Richard, who is also referred to as Father Donoughty later on (which make me think of the name Father Dick Doughnut ngl). Anyways, Theresa doesn't think her mother could just ask Father Richard about what she didn't want to talk to her about, thinking that priests... ... are bound to secrecy. I don't think they are but I'm not religious so how the fuck would I know. Anyways, Theresa shows she has super strength and blatantly states that the priest probably thought she was possessed by a demon but after going out to talk to Jan he believes... ... otherwise. And with that conversation between Father Dick Doughnut, we get the worst dialogue of all time. So you can suffer with me this time, I'm typing it all out. "These men don't know everything. Only I do. What did Theresa say?" (Jan) "I'm not at liberty to say." (Father Dick) "It's not the usual stuff?" "It isn't." "It's critical you can tell no one. Theresa will be the first to suffer. People will come after her. They'll kidnap her, kill her, or worse." "Who are you?" "I work for the American government" "How many of you are there?" "Hundreds" "That's a lot of people." "Do you understand how important this is?" “I'm beginning to." First of all, boring as fuck. Second, what is worse than being killed? You're fucking dead. I don't think much can actually top that. Third, I don't know if he's asking how many are watching Theresa or how many are working for the gov't. Either way, stupid question. After that absolutely immersive conversation, Father Dick Doughnut says he needs to call the cardinal to have them come watch Theresa. This seems really extreme in my opinion. As far as I was aware, a cardinal has far more to take care of than one little girl... ...at one church in a town that I don't think is that big. Even a bishop probably wouldn't spend their time focusing on that and they're two steps down from a cardinal. But no, Theresa is just too fucking important. Why not just have the Pope get involved now? Or is that... ...too much for you to handle Norman? Ugh. This entire chapter just fucking sucks and it's only the first chapter. Blah, Blah, Blah, Theresa's story about an alien being inside of her is confirmed because Jan said so and she works for the 'government'. Then we get a huge fucking jump over her fifth-grade year where Theresa gets to jump from fifth grade to seventh grade because her hair started to grow in thick thanks to HAL. Apparently, this is a sign of her 'emotional maturity'. I don't see the correlation. At all. At the very end of the chapter Theresa makes the claim that there are "four hundred" people watching her and that's how many people it takes to watch someone 24/7 without being caught. That seems like bullshit to me. In fact, that seems like the fastest way to get caught. It takes maybe 4 to 8 people at most in my opinion to watch someone day and night. But no. Theresa is just too fucking important for only 4-8 people. She needs 400. I forgot to mention earlier, but only the high ranking officials know about why Theresa is being watched. As far as I'm aware, there are only about 20 high ranking officials who know why Theresa is being watched. That leaves 380 people who have no fucking clue just what the hell is going on or why they're watching an 11-year-old girl. That's absolutely absurd. Something I forgot to mention earlier is that Jan claims something came from space 7 years ago and they lost track of it. She assumes that thing is HAL. Keep that in mind 7 years ago. But the fox that Theresa's mother saw was almost 11 years ago. And the fox is what gave... ... Theresa that ball of light. Norman loves to be precise with numbers, but he can't even keep his own fucking storyline straight. This book is hell. But I will keep reading because I apparently love to torture myself.

GATHER ROUND MOTHERFUCKERS.

I have dirt on the clinic I used to work for. Under a cut because this is long.

So, one of my former co-workers also got a job with the company I now work for. He works for a clinic they own and I work at the business office so we don’t actually work together, but there’s an inter-office instant messaging system, and most days we check in with one another to see how the other’s day is going (he was one of my fave co-workers at the clinic and we both served as a reference for each other, so he’s one of the few I’ve kept in touch with). Naturally, throughout the course of our conversations, we’ve both mentioned how happy we are in our current jobs, how nice our bosses are, and how relieved we are to be out of that toxic environment, so the clinic and our old bosses come up now and again. Today we’re on the topic of how happy we are in our current positions and how much we both like our bosses, and he tells me, “I’m hearing more and more stuff coming out of the clinic. Supposedly Bob (the husband; also I changed everybody’s names, FYI) and Veronica (the wife) are heading for a divorce, and Karen (the problem child secretary who treated people like shit and caused 98% of the clinic’s issues and was consequently promoted to a manager, as you do) and Bob are having an affair. I don’t want to believe that, but the person who told me is really close with Bob and Veronica.”

Naturally, I text my sister and tell her the latest, because you gotta’ keep your girl in the loop. This is earlier in the afternoon; a few hours later, as I’m pulling out of the parking lot at work, I feel my phone vibrate from a text message, but obviously can’t look at it. I make a stop at the grocery store on my way home, and pull out my phone to see who texted me, and it is a very excited text from my sister, all in caps, informing me that she ran into Veronica at the very same store, and she was going on about all the shit my former co-worker mentioned (she had texted me as soon as she got home, so this was probably half an hour or so before I arrived at the same store, because I’m always just shy of the good shit, dammit). I, of course, call her to get the good shit.

So here’s what Veronica tells my sister.

They are getting a divorce; he’s already living somewhere else, but some of his stuff is still at their house, so he’s been going back and forth. Apparently he will not tell anyone where he’s living, but my sister and I posit that he simply doesn’t want HER knowing where he’s living, because based on our observations of them over many years, we have every reason to believe that she’d kick down his door and murder him with an axe. He’s also leaving the clinic. One of the billing employees (there are only two in their billing office) quit because of all the garbage going on, and the other girl wanted to quit, and was only talked out of it because Veronica moved her out of the billing office (which is upstairs) into the area where my sister and I used to work, which is downstairs and away from all the drama, and Bob (he works in their billing office for most of the day, and while Veronica handles payroll, he handles the actual billing portion, along with these two other employees). Allegedly, he was really mean about their break-up, demanded she sign the divorce papers, caused a big scene, etc.; we highly doubt this, however. It most definitely might have happened, but it was probably her doing all the screaming and making demands. She has a tendency to not only be very aggressive, but also to turn everything around so that it’s his fault. My sister and I worked right around the corner from her office, and overheard many fights. They’d go something like this: she would scream at him while he stood there silently, every once in a while offering a tired-sounding word or two in response. Then he would leave, and once he was back upstairs, she’d come out to our area, and immediately launch into a woeful speech about how mean he was to her, how aggressive, how he completely attacked and blindsided her, etc. etc. To his credit (and I don’t give him much, because he’s no prize either), I never once heard him say anything bad about her. She, on the other hand, was all kissy face while he was in the room, and then as soon as he left it, would start telling my sister and me about how stupid and useless he was, that he was a pussy, that he was worthless, etc. etc., all in a tone I would use to talk about my worst enemy. I’ve had the impression for a long time that she loathes him. If at any point I’d ever come downstairs to find him murdered on the floor, I would have been like, “Ah; saw this coming.”

As to the affair, Veronica claimed that multiple people at the office knew about it, and just never mentioned it to her. She also claimed that Bob forced her to make Karen the manager and give her a big raise, that he badgered and badgered her till she finally caved and agreed. She said in hindsight it makes sense knowing there was an affair going on and he wanted to give her things, but this smells like bullshit to both my sister and me. A couple of reasons: it was long known by several people at the clinic that Karen would have been fired long ago if not for Veronica, because Bob couldn’t stand her. In fact, my sister said he outright told her more than once that he hated Karen because she caused so many problems with everyone. It wasn’t till recently that he suddenly started to take her side on things, which is a point in favour of the possibility of an affair, but let’s go deeper. A while before I left, I overheard a big messy blow-out between one of the medical assistants, Karen, and Veronica. Karen, as usual, had poked her nose somewhere it didn’t belong, acted like a jerk about it, and when the medical assistant stood up for herself, she got in trouble. I talked about this a bit some time back, so I’m not going to go into it again; let’s just say I was sitting across from Veronica’s office and heard a lot of what happened, and that poor medical assistant was railroaded by both of their gaslighting asses. I myself overheard Veronica tell the medical assistant that Karen had done a lot for them, so they really valued her, and that basically she was in charge and could do whatever she wanted, and tough shit. Also, I heard her say that she would fire everyone in the clinic if it meant keeping Karen, and other co-workers said they had heard her express a similar sentiment. Also to the second power: I don’t believe for one second that Bob ever bullied her into doing anything she didn’t want to do. So it’s highly suspect to me that making her a manager was all Bob’s idea when Karen had her nose so far up Veronica’s ass that they were essentially the same person.

So, while my sister is telling me all this, I say, “Well, whether there is or isn’t an affair, I’m guessing Karen doesn’t have a job anymore, because Veronica at least thinks they’re having one..” And my sister goes, “NO, that’s the fucking weirdest part--KAREN IS STILL THERE.” I’m the surprised Pikachu meme at this point. You are telling me that this woman, who gets angry just because Bob may have possibly given another woman a passing glance, is convinced that the manager, who has been her bosom ass-kissing buddy for years, fucked her husband, who is no longer part of the business and therefore has no hand in the hiring and firing process...just...lets her...stay employed??? That makes fuckall sense to me. I tell my sister maybe they’re actually the ones who are fucking; Mr. Jenn’s theory is that both Veronica AND Bob had an affair with her. Additionally: Veronica claimed that one of the other secretaries came to her and reported that Karen had told her she and Bob were standing out in the parking lot of the clinic, and Bob told her he loved her. Now, I believe this may have been said to the secretary; but I have a hard time believing Bob is THAT stupid, so I suspect that was probably Karen trying to stir up shit. Regardless, Veronica now thinks that her husband not only fucked her bosom ass-kissing buddy, but was ballsy enough to make declarations of love to her in the parking lot of their business, in the middle of the day, with patients and employees coming and going...and...she’s not...going to fire her???

I’m only half-joking when I say I suspect maybe there’s actually some torrid lesbian shit going on between them, and she twisted it around so that A. She could be the victim and B. Preserve her image as a Good, God-Fearing, Homophobic Christian. I just can’t fathom why she would keep that lady on, and she has ALWAYS been the driving force behind Karen getting special privileges and keeping her job when she otherwise would have been out on her ass years ago.

And that’s what I got for now, kids. Stay tuned, because I’ve got people on the inside, and I wouldn’t be surprised if more comes out in the following weeks. This is a goddamned soap opera.

A former friend of mine was stupid enough to believe Team Plasma's lies and abandoned her Purrloin - which is why I broke our friendship. My Herdier (now Stoutland) found him in really bad condition and we nursed him back to health. Now, one year later, my former friend is pestering me to have Purrloin back. She plays victim claiming that she regrets everything, that she feels so guilty she spends nights crying, that she had that Purrloin since she was a child and he means everything to her(1/2)

I'm told her that she can count Purrloin dead for what it concerns her, like he would be if I didn't take him with me after she threw him out like garbage. I may sound heartless, but where was her love when her Pokémon was crying on the streets heartbroken, scared and starved because of her? Purrloin wants nothing to do with her anymore and he wants to leave with Stoutland and me for our journey, so for me there's no nothing to talk about. But she keeps coming back. How do I get rid of her? (2/2)

One of the hardest things in the world to realize is that people change. Not can; they do. Even if you feel strongly about something problematic, you can grow up and educate yourself on the matter and become a better person. Furthermore, it's important to know that you can do this at any age. This is only something I say because many people, for some reason, only believe you can change if you're young. Team Plasma preyed on people of all ages, and what they said sounded quite reasonable. Who wouldn't be horrified if they're told that what they're doing is hurting a living creature they care about? And what arguments can you make when someone is telling you point-blank that you've enslaved another being against their will? (Obviously, I think Team Plasma's entire platform is terribly researched and intentionally incendiary, but I can't deny understanding why someone else—someone who is otherwise completely reasonable—would think otherwise.)

So in short, it's important to forgive. You don't have to trust—I don't know your friend well enough to tell you whether or not she has actually changed and would not recommend assuming for certain that she has—but I would recommend forgiving her, just enough to tell her that you know she isn't evil. Remember, none of Team Plasma's victims are monsters. They're victims, and they're likely dealing with regret from their actions. They wanted to do what's best for their pokémon, but unfortunately, they were convinced that "the best" consisted of the worst possible things you can do to a fully domesticated pokémon short of intentional, malicious abuse and neglect.

However, another one of the hardest things in the world to realize is that no matter how much you change, it's also on you to let go, especially if the people or pokémon you care deeply about don't want you back. Your friend's purrloin wants to stay with you, not with her, and forcing him to go with her would be just as traumatic as the initial abandonment. He's already experienced the loss of one person he's grown to trust. She must understand that she cannot morally put him through that again, especially if she really has changed and truly cares about him.

With all of the above in mind, here is what you should do: again, tell your friend that you don't hate her. Don't tell her off or say anything hurtful to her. This will only hurt her more, which will make her actions more desperate. Instead, tell her that Purrloin has chosen to go with you. Do not tell her that you've cared more for him than she has or that you were there for him when she wasn't. She already knows what mistakes she's made.

Tell her also that the best way to be a better person ... is to be a better person. Suggest that she start with volunteering at a pokémon shelter or center. Tell her to consider adopting another pokémon. Perhaps even tell her, with as much patience and empathy as you'd give to anyone else, that the best thing she can do is move on, heal, grow, and build a new life. Tell her you have faith in her ability to grow. Wish her the best of luck. Leave the next morning.

Good luck, anonymous. The last hardest thing in the world to realize that I'll tell you about is that forgiveness, change, and all the other complicated parts to human existence make most human interactions difficult and painful. But they're fundamental parts of what we are and what we need to do to exist, and contrary to what the most passionate of us believe, refusing any part of that in ourselves doesn't make us better—it only makes us bitter. Please don't refuse those elements in yourself or your friend.

i just got a whole bunch of new followers on letterboxd, and checking out who they all are really reminded me of why i don’t follow too many people on letterboxd. bad amateur writing is hard to enjoy even ironically, but there’s something about bad film writing that’s really harmful. i have hate-read so many of this one guy’s reviews that i feel embarrassed about it now. he describes himself as an “arthouse manager”, which i assume means he runs a theater, but it bothers me because nobody says “let’s go out to the arthouse tonight” without the word “theater” in there, it’s just unnatural and pretentious. so that’s red flag #1 right in his description, which is followed by red flag #2 about how he hates modern media, as if being a luddite or nostalgia freak automatically means you’re a sensitive genius. it’s probably worth mentioning a sub-red flag, which is that he also says he’s 27 years old, which has to mean that he either wants to be congratulated for being precocious somehow, or he thinks he’s going to get laid off this movie website where you can’t even post pictures of yourself, or both, i mean who fucking cares how old you are anyway, for what reason? then the first review is of DAYS OF BEING WILD, in which he describes Wong Kar-Wai as “seeking to understand what draws women to shitty, emotionally unavailable men”; i mean imagine being so full of shit that you project your own sullen incel-y “UGH WHY DO GIRLS ONLY LIKE BLAHBLAHBLAHBLAH” garbage onto whatever revered works of art show up on your tv screen? this guy goes on to reveal himself in almost a strip tease fashion across many of his reviews, breaking up his pompous analyses with macho mindbenders like “i have often said that being horny is the point of life” and biographical information like about his manipulative alcoholic father. i’m not trying to say that everybody with a delinquent or dysfunctional parent is destined to have idiotic and serial killerish attitudes about intimacy, because that would condemn pretty much all of us. but, i am sadly familiar with solipsistic assholes who brandish their alleged intellectual superiority in one fist while beating the dust out of their childhood traumas with the other, and just seeing his smug letterboxd reviews tells me everything i need to know about him. hopefully he just followed me in a spammy way to get attention and will never interact, or maybe i’ll say something he finds politically disagreeable and he’ll go away.

honestly finding anybody worth following on letterboxd is kind of hard. it can be nice to read stuff by people who are just having fun and shooting straight about what they’re watching, but the site is filled with wannabe J Hobermans and Lester Bangses who are just out to prove that they own a thesaurus. they’re practically all dudes, you can smell the old spice and maker’s mark wafting out of your laptop fan when you read some of this chest-pounding nonsense. not all of them have such toxic things to say as the aforementioned douchebag, but there’s a real preponderance of users who seem to think they’re reinventing the language. the sad thing is when they really like MY writing. there’s this guy i follow who i think used to write fairly clearly, but now everything he posts looks like a burroughs cut-up with really avant garde ideas about punctuation and adjectives, and unfortunately, i think it’s on purpose. i’d unfollow him, but i feel like i can’t, because he is as nice as literally anyone has ever been about my writing. he goes so far as to give me a hard time about why i’m not a professional film critic, he’s like a ~fan~...and then i gotta ask myself, how much is my writing like HIS writing? this is where the difficulties of letterboxd start to feel worth while, in a masochistic kind of way. like, how often do i write in the same wanky bombastic fashion as these shitty little internet valedictorians who i hate so much? probably a lot! i don’t like feeling that way but i have to admit that i’m grateful for the opportunity to check myself, and possibly improve.

however good or bad i am, letterboxd is still a better place to write than tumblr. i mean tumblr is less than optimal for long form writing anyway, but it’s also a question of who the majority population is here. the other day i got a comment on a pretty old post i wrote about ANNIHILATION, a movie i found kind of smarmy and shallow. the commenter said that my points about the movie were good, BUT they would all be negated by the content of the novels on which the movie is based, and they wanted to know why i deliberately omitted this material from my analysis, as if this were a conspiracy to be unraveled. they actually asked me what the point of my post was, like what was my goal in writing only what i wrote and leaving all kinds of things out. basically. this person COULD NOT UNDERSTAND THE IDEA OF A MOVIE REVIEW. i answered them, because they had tried hard to be polite, that my movie review blog is just for movie reviews, in which i talk about what i think about movies i watch. i’m not pursuing everything related to certain intellectual properties, nor am i invested in the logic and content of Extended Universes of whatever individual movies i’m watching. i’m not mad at this person, who was asking an honest question, but i was completely dumbfounded by the question itself. i mean imagine being SO INVESTED in fandom as like a type of lifestyle that you don’t know what a movie review is anymore? like every piece of media is regarded as some sort of municipality, that belongs to a state, and is governed by certain people, and its characters are like Real People who are available for friendship, dating and more. no piece of media is just entertainment, or even an artistic statement anymore. for this person, watching a movie is something like studying civic infrastructure, except with more DIY alterations and more fetishizing of gay men. i keep trying to imagine reading three paragraphs about some middling hollywood movie that amounts to something like “i did not enjoy watching this film,” and just having no personal frame of reference AT ALL for what it means when somebody writes that down. like just not knowing what a movie review is at all, and asking the author to explain the meaning of the bizarre behavior of saying you thought some movie sucked.

why DOES anybody write about movies though? if i don’t find it normal or desirable to watch everything with an exclusive filter for who do you want to fuck and who do you want to see fucking each other, then what else am i getting at? surely i don’t see myself as a potential roger ebert or leonard maltin, especially considering the extremely limited number of celebrity film critics in the history of mankind. i’m also not Pro- the idea of sorting all movies according to some rigid standards of technical quality and deservingness, like anybody needs me to grade them after they’ve performed the nearly impossible-seeming task of even making one single movie to begin with. sometimes i stupidly start complaining about stupid responses to my writing that i get once in a while from the internet, and my shrink asks me, “what are you up to when you post this writing?” she always says i’m “up to something” when i seem to be following but willfully ignoring my subconscious drives, which i think is pretty funny. but i don’t think i’m pursuing feelings of superiority, over movies or other writers. i think i’m just trying to figure out what movies are trying to say about human existence--and they all are trying to say something, are motivated by some angst, even the really insulting ones that only offer up wish fulfillment pablum. i’m constantly trying and failing to figure out my own existence, and i must sense that attempting to decipher movies is one way of getting closer to decoding my own experiences.

and on that note, now i have to complain about the fact that Lyft’s driver rating system includes “fun conversation” as one of the four factors in giving someone five stars. i rarely want a stranger to try to force me to talk to them, especially at 4am when i’m headed to the airport under a miserable pile of luggage. even so, i recently got into a car in such a state, with a guy who was clearly going for that five star rating, babbling loudly and convulsively at me all the way to my terminal. it would be one thing if he were just trying to be nice, but he was giving me shit about everything from my pickup location to what i had done in his fair city for a week and a half. i did not immediately volunteer how many movies i had seen at the festival i attended, because i probably intuited that when he did make me tell him, he would inform me that he doesn’t need to watch movies, because “I WATCH *LIFE*, MAN!!!” the irony was that this guy clearly didn’t watch life at all; he didn’t even have the ability to discern that i didn’t want to talk, or that i didn’t want him to insult my favorite leisure activity, and that probably NOBODY wants to listen to him talk about his shitty generic blues rock band for half an hour before 5am. so that’s the one thing i can say for even the most obnoxious reviewer on letterboxd--that probably they are TRYING to hone the art of observation, a dying skill. probably they are TRYING to train themselves to be an active audience that engages thoughtfully with the movie instead of just hucking rotten tomatoes at the screen OR passively allowing it to wash over them. even if i often hate the results, at least some of these guys seem be making an effort.

How to Write an Accurate Lifeguard AU

So! It’s summer, which means everyone is writing lifeguarding AUs, and I, a lifeguard, am subjected to the same common mistakes being written over and over, so I’ve taken it upon myself to inform the public as best I can, because information is the best gift you can give anyone, especially a writer.

Before we begin, a PSA: I’m Canadian, so my information is valid primarily in Canada, and might be slightly different in other countries. I also guard at an outdoor summer pool, so my experience (and my advice) will be focused on how to write that experience, though I will talk a bit about guarding lakes and beaches. Cool? Cool! Let’s go!

Least to Most Dangerous Places to Guard:

Outdoor Pools: Low incident levels. Good visibility in the water, lots of people on shift at once, limited area for people to swim. Especially if you work at a private pool, like me, where people have to pay a membership fee, and are generally strong/experienced swimmers unlikely to experience a drowning incident.

Lakes (at a dock): Higher incident levels, and lower visibility in the water. With the added presence of things like rocks and branches in the water, injuries to feet are common. Drowning incidents are more common because it’s more difficult to tell where the bottom is, and you’ll probably be getting less experienced swimmers. Docks have a tendency to be very slippery, so you’ll probably get a few people hurting themselves there too. (Fun fact, if a lifeguard tells you not to run, it’s because they don’t want you to slip! We’re not just doing it to be annoying, spinal injuries and concussions are no fun for anyone.) Even if the area people are allowed to swim in is limited, people are liable to ignore it, which poses an added danger.

Beaches (with waves): Highest incident levels. The ocean is not to be fucked with. Visibility is low, and currents and tides are liable to drag even strong swimmers out. It’s actually not as uncommon as you’d hope for lifeguards trying to help a drowning victim to end up needing to be saved themselves. Beaches also attract a lot of people, which means there are a lot of people to keep track of, many of whom might not be strong swimmers, or might even be complete non-swimmers. Again, even if the area is limited, people might ignore it. A lifeguard working at a beach will be very good at their job.

And that pretty much exhausts my knowledge of things that aren’t outdoor pools. Everything from here on out will apply to those specifically.

The Basics:

1. If someone is on chair, they aren’t going to be talking to anyone

When you’re on chair, you’re watching the pool. You have to be paying attention, because you’re the one who’s supposed to notice an incident if it happens. Unless you want to show a lifeguard being terrible at their job, they won’t be chatting while watching the pool. Shifts on chair usually last fifteen minutes at one chair, fifteen minutes at the next, with two people guarding simultaneously, though this varies depending on the pool.

2. Lifeguards are not doctors, but they aren’t useless either

Lifeguards are trained in first aid, which means we know how to treat basic injuries, perform CPR, and use a spinal board. More often than not, if there’s a major incident, we’re calling 911. However, we do have to training. Where I live, the required qualifications are a Bronze Medallion Certification, a Bronze Cross Certification, a First Aid Certification, and a National Lifeguard Certification. It took me three years to be fully qualified. The qualifications in the U.S aren’t as strenuous, but I’m not an expert, so if you have a specific area you want to look into, I suggest doing it.

3. If your character is bad with kids, they’ll be a bad lifeguard

They don’t have to be amazing, but they should be able to treat a child with at least basic courtesy. You have to spend a lot of time with kids, usually injured ones, and if you’re not good at dealing with them, you’re screwed. More often than not, lifeguards are also swim instructors and coaches, (I teach swimming lessons and the U8 synchronized swimming team) so that’s even more kids. If you just want a very simple “they only watch the pool” lifeguard, that’s also a thing, and you’ll be able to ignore later sections of this post. Nevertheless, your lifeguard should still be at least okay with kids.

4. No swearing on shift

Like I mentioned, we work with kids. That also means we have to deal with crazy parents (more on that later) and they don’t like when people swear around their kids. So, no swearing at the pool! It’s a small detail, but it does a lot for realism.

5. Crazy parents

Pool parents are all the worst parts of entitled people yelling at retail workers, overprotective helicopter parents, and ridiculously competitive parents trying to relive their glory days through their children. They can also be really cool, but showing your character having to navigate dealing with an angry parent is, again, good realism, and a fun character  and relationship building tool! Lifeguards talk trash about crazy parents all the time, so if you’re writing a group, it’s a great way to show them bonding. They won’t do it on shift though (same deal as the swearing, you’ll get in trouble)

6. Not all lifeguards are equal

There is a hierarchy within the pool staff. The more years you work at a pool, the more you get payed, the better your shifts are, and the more say you get in the way the pool is run. You’ll never be fully in charge (the pool is usually managed by a committee of parents and owned by the city) but you get more responsibilities. We have supervisors we send troublesome members to, and newbies who get the worst shifts.

7. It’s not all sitting on a chair watching the pool

Lifeguards aren’t just lifeguards. They’re also custodians, teachers, and coaches. We clean the bathrooms and garbages, we sweep the deck, we vacuum the bottom of the pool, we skim the bugs off the surface, we put all the chairs and floaties away at the end of the day. That’s pretty universal, but beyond that is where things start getting more specialized, because I live in an area where most families basically live at their summer pools. I’m not sure if it’s even like this in other parts of Canada. However, if you want to add some excitement (and cute kids) to your story or AU, this is the way to do it.

I mentioned earlier that I teach swimming lessons. Everyone who wants to work as a lifeguard in my area has to take an additional course where they learn to teach the various levels of swimming lessons. If you want to get even more elaborate, pools also usually have swim teams, diving teams, synchro teams and waterpolo teams, along with things like aquafit and free swim. Adding any of those into your mix could be a fun twist on relationships, since there’s joking rivalry between a lot of the sports (especially synchro and waterpolo). Additional interaction with kids, parents, and young teenagers will be required if you plan on throwing any of these in.

8. The swimsuits are the uniform

This isn’t a huge thing, but it’s important. You have to potentially save a life in that suit. It’s going to be practical. For girls, if you’re teaching, it’s a one piece, but if you’re on chair it’s usually a bikini, which generally looks like some very full coverage underwear and a practical sports bra. Guys have swim trunks. You also aren’t allowed to wear shoes on shift, (other than flip-flops) because swimming in shoes is nigh on impossible.

9. The staff is super close

There’s drama sometimes, sure, but you have to spend your entire summer with these people. You see them every day, whether you’re working or going out together. You have bonding days, you see each other in swimsuits more often than clothes, you deal with the same annoying parents and maintenance problems. You’ve probably seen everyone drunk or at least dealing with other staff members being drunk. You go out regularly, (lifeguard parties are real, and most mornings at least half our staff is hungover) you exchange secrets and embarrassing stories during slow shifts. These are your best friends from June to September. They’re your family.

10. To be a lifeguard, you have to REALLY want it

I’ve talked about all the courses, the crazy parents, and the sheer amount of things you have to do, so this should be pretty clear. But in case you needed to be convinced further, my manager said at one of our staff meetings that they’re “trying to make sure no one’s working more than fifty hours a week”. We work all the time, in the blazing summer heat, doing a job that ranges from boring to wonderful to absolutely terrifying. If you aren’t guarding you’re teaching, if you aren’t teaching you’re coaching, if you aren’t coaching you’re actually still coaching except it’s at a different pool for a competition. It’s a lot, but if you love it, you really love it.

And Finally, a Breakdown of Why I Hate the “Fake Drowning to Get CPR” Trope

Putting aside the consent issues, it’s also stupid, and here’s why:

CPR is only performed on unconscious, non-breathing victims. That means you’d have to fake being unconscious, and hold your breath through the entire process, which is impossible. Believe me, playing victim in training is hard. Not to mention, you can’t stop your own heart, and we monitor heart rate.

Lets say you were able to fake it. It’s at this point that this bad boy come into play:

This is a pocket mask. You put it over a victim’s mouth to avoid direct mouth to mouth contact, because, you know, ew.

Now, pretend there was no pocket mask and you really think getting air violently blown into your mouth before having your ribs broken by someone desperately trying to restart your heart is a good way to get a “kiss” from the hot lifeguard. Bad news: it might not be them doing breaths.

Removing an unconscious person from the pool is hard, and is usually a two person job. So even if the object of your affections is the one getting you out of the water, they might be the one doing compressions, while the person who helped with the removal does breaths.

They’ll also be wearing gloves the whole time, because CPR can sometimes make people vomit, and they might have to scoop the vomit out of your mouth.

Romantic, right?

But wait, it gets worse, because there’s no way you’d get that far. You’d get caught as soon as they checked your breathing, your heart rate, or your consciousness level. Depending on at what point they caught you, EMS might already have been contacted, at which point you’d have several lifeguards and a whole crew of paramedics absolutely furious at you, and probably a ban from the pool.

Moral of the story, don’t do it.

Hope this was helpful to someone!

RoyEd Week 2k19 Day 1!

Title: Seven(?) Days

Rating: T+

Relationships: Roy Mustang/ Edward Elric

Chapter: Day 1- Modern AU (high school theater fluff & dramatic!Roy)

Cross- Posted on AO3 and Fanfic.net links- Fanfic.net   AO3

Best quality reading will be through the links, not on Tumblr itself because I’m too lazy to do italics and shit right now. For @royedweek2019 ‘s RoyEd Week!

Day 1- Modern AU

           Ed stared bleakly down at the many slides and switches laid in front of him. He had finished his homework an hour ago, so now all he could do was sit in the small booth and watch his classmates argue with the Drama teacher below him.

‘Theater People’ He thought with an eye-roll, ‘Roy’s real lucky I’m such an upstanding boyfriend for helping him like this.’

           “Edward, honey, turn on the presets for scene five!” Mrs. Lamine, a Drama teacher very befitting of the title, called from the stage as she directed Ed’s aforementioned boyfriend and a few other students to stand over little strips of colored tape.

           Ed gave a quick thumbs-up and pressed one of the preset buttons, and all lights but for some red and blue lights on-stage dimmed or turned completely off (he had watched in trepidation as two techies hung the gel-covered lamps from bars over the stage on a rickety-at-best scaffolding a week ago).

           The board had been easy to learn, compared to the “computer stuff” (as Roy dubbed it) Ed worked on for fun. His only real qualm with his current situation was just about everything else about participating in a high school theater production when he could be doing just about anything else. Stupid Colin and his broken legs, and the wheelchair non-accessible light booth. Stupid Roy and Al, too, for their dumb influence over Ed’s emotions. And, most of all, stupid theater for having a production in a week and not enough funding to hire a booth guy.

           With a sigh, Ed leaned back in his chair and watched Val Smith screw up her lines for the umpteenth time that hour.

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           Of everything he hated about staying until seven at school every day for an extracurricular he couldn’t care less about, the sheer nosiness of the actresses (especially Val fucking Smith) got to Ed the most.

They were running a few scenes with just the house lights on for the moment, so Ed had nothing to do until Roy and Jean managed to remember their swordfight choreography the whole way through (and it wasn’t like Ed didn’t absolutely love watching Roy accidentally hit Jean in the shins with the prop lance, but at this point they would actually have battle wounds when they weren’t even really supposed to touch each other!). Suddenly, Ed saw two of his classmates, Christy and Paninya, approach the light booth in his periphery. He hadn’t heard the balcony door creak open as it usually did, so their sudden appearance took him by surprise. Their all-too innocent expressions didn’t a thing to soothe Ed’s irritation, either.

“Hey, Ed.” Paninya greeted quietly as they slid into the booth and crouched next to him, filling up the little free space he had.

“What’s up?” Ed asked nonchalantly. He knew from their smiles that they weren’t just up here to ask after his well-being.

“So… You and Roy are an item.” Christy stated.

Ed blinked, taken off- guard. Sure he wasn’t exactly private about his relationship with Roy, but none of the theater girls had previously so much as acknowledged it (Ed had his suspicions it was because they quietly resented Ed for snagging their dream boy away from them). He slowly said, “Yeah…. So what?”

Paninya shook her head quickly, “No, we don’t care or anything. We think you two are really good together! We were just curious about something. Actually, we have a bet, you see.” The scheming smile was back.

‘Oh God,’ Ed thought.

Christy asked through a little giggle, “Who tops?”

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

           “You’re not really still salty about running lights, are you?” Roy asked incredulously. True, it had been a week, but Ed was nothing if not persistent. Plus, he had one more whole week of this ordeal, and if he had to deal, so could Roy. However, Ed hadn’t quite planned on his “salt” affecting his current situation, which saw him straddling Roy in the dark-haired boy’s beanbag chair, an amused smirk cast upon his bright red blush.

Ed scowled through his flushed cheeks, removing his hands from where they had been previously removing Roy’s shirt, “Is now really the time?”

“You’ve never pouted so much during a thrall of passion; I had to ask.”

Ed groaned, “Don’t call it a thrall of passion, ya dork! I was just reminded of stupid Christy and Paninya and their dumb bet.”

Roy laughed loudly, “Oh geez, of all the times!”

“Yeah I know, right?” Ed scowled, yelping a bit when Roy ran his hand lightly up his waist.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re helping out. I like getting to see you after school.”

Ed’s blush could have melted ice, “Shut up and continue doing what you were doing, you ass.” Roy laughed, yet compiled all the same.

---

           That Thursday night, it was Al’s turn to bear witness to Ed’s tirades (not that he hadn’t had an earful already). It was the night before opening night, and they had just come back home from the final dress rehearsal, Al still smeared in stage makeup, and Ed wearing a scowl to beat all other scowls.

           “Fuck the stupid theater!” He growled, throwing his backpack onto the couch as Al pulled out a Tupperware of leftover dinner with the note ‘Left this out for you boys to eat after rehearsals. Dad and I won’t be home until tomorrow morning. Don’t get hurt, we don’t want you two to turn up at work. <3 – Mom’

           “Mom and Dad left out some food, Brother. Let’s eat.”

           Ed nodded, “Did Mom leave a crappy ER joke?”

           Al shrugged, “It’s more of a warning this time. Hurry up and sit, I’ll toss the food in the mic for a sec.” He did so, keeping his back to Ed at the kitchen table as the food spun around cooking, “Ya know, I’m really glad you’re doing this for us. I know you’d rather be doing other stuff.”

           Ed huffed, “What? How could you tell?”

           “I really hope that was sarcasm, Brother.” Al turned to see Ed, legs kicked up on the table scrunching up the decorative table cloth their mom insisted on laying out to “accent the fruit bowl”.

           “Do you know me, Al? I’m made of sarcasm. And anyway, it’s not a huge problem, I’m sure Roy would have just bugged me until I gave in anyway. I just don’t see how you can stand being around those people for so many hours every day!”

           Al rolled his eyes over the mild jab at his friends, “I mean, you chose to date a theater guy, so I don’t know what you can really say about that.”

           “But it’s Roy.”

           “Yes, exactly my point. The biggest personality in our theater class: Roy Mustang.”

           “What’re you getting at?” Ed asked.

           “Well,” Al responded, “I’m just saying that if you can handle Roy every day and choose to date him, then you can deal with Val Smith for a few hours.”

           “But it’s different! Roy’s cute when he’s being dramatic. Val makes me want to punch something.”

           Al shook his head, “You confuse me, Brother.” The microwave beeped, and Al served up the warm food. Ed took a large bite of his pasta.

           “You nervous about the show, Al?” He asked around the food in his mouth, changing pace.

           Al blinked, “A bit, but I’ve got a pretty minor role. I’m more nervous that our poor excuse of a tech class will screw up a set or not get the right stuff onstage between scenes or something like that and throw off the flow of the performance.” Al paused to eat some food before continuing, “What about you?”

           Ed cocked a brow, “You know I don’t a fuck about this play.”

           “But you’ve got a pretty important job. If you mess up a light cue, everyone will freak out and mess up.”

           “So? I won’t fuck it up.” Ed shrugged.

           “You’re not even a bit nervous for Roy? You don’t give a fuck about the play, but you do give a fuck about him.” Ed paused, wishing Al didn’t know his thought process so well.

           “Well… I’m worried that Roy’ll be a big drama queen about wanting me to do well if that’s what you mean. You know how he is.”

“But I thought you said he was cute when he was dramatic.” Al giggled at Ed’s blush.

“Not when he’s being dramatic over me!”

Al burst into real laughter over his brother’s flustered face, “He’s probably gonna be more nervous about himself messing up than you, in all honesty.”

“But he’s, like, the best actor y’all have (no offense)! He’s got nothing to worry about.” Ed defended. In all honesty, it hadn’t crossed Ed’s mind that Roy may doubt himself onstage. Sure, he had some self-confidence issues (it took Ed ages to convince Roy to come out to his friends- all part of the theater- about their relationship), but he seemed so… relaxed when he acted! Ed just assumed he’d be less unsure in himself in that area.

Al sighed, “He is the best- that’s why he gets super anxious backstage. He’s got a reputation to uphold. It only happens right before he has to go on, so I’m not surprised you haven’t noticed, but he gets all freaked out and panicky. Almost threw up once.”

“Ew, Al, I’m eating!” Ed groaned, squeamish with puke in conversation, “So what you’re saying is that if I mess up, it’ll get to Roy’s head and he’ll have a panic attack?”

“I didn’t say that! God, Ed.”

“Well you don’t have to, because I won’t mess up and Roy will be great, and you’ll kill it, and this play will be a hit. I didn’t waste two weeks on this damn thing to fail my one job opening night.”

Ed stood with that comment, scraping his leftover food into the garbage (Al winced at the waste) and taking his leave to go finish his homework with a quick “Goodnight” to Al. The younger Elric brother to the last bite of his dinner with a smug look on his face, having new confidence in Ed’s secret enjoyment of the theater. All he had to do now was get through opening night, and the rest would be a breeze.

-----

At last, it was opening day, and Ed could see the light at the end of the theater-shaped tunnel. Only today and the weekend to go before he’d have his afternoons back and Roy would be indebted to him interminably. That is, Roy would be indebted to him once he got out of whatever dumb slump he’d been in since that morning. He’d been distracted during all of the classes they shared, and not just his usual “too cool to take notes” kind of distracted! Ed had his suspicions it was because of the play, considering what Al had told him last night.  

At lunch, Ed and his friends ate in their usual stomping grounds- the chemistry teacher’s classroom. He’d let them eat there on the conditions that they clean up after themselves and help set up for his labs after they eat. He entered the room, surprised to find his brother and Roy there, chatting with James Slayton (a classmate of Al’s who liked to hang around Ed’s group). It wasn’t unheard of to find either boy in the chem room with Ed, he had assumed they would be eating with their theater friends before the big show.

“I didn’t expect you guys to be here.” Ed said when Roy and Al noticed him set down his backpack and lunch tray at his usual desk, “Not hanging out with the cast?”

Roy shook his head vigorously, “They wanted to run lines for the first act while we ate. If I have to hear that script before tonight, I’ll scream.”

“I tagged along.” Al shrugged, turning back to James.

Roy sat at the desk in front of Ed, turning his body around so that he faced his boyfriend, his chin rested on his folded arms at the end of Ed’s desk. Ed poked him on the nose with his plastic spoon, “You tired?”

“I’ll have you know I slept wonderfully last night… with the help of Melatonin. I just want this show to be over with.”

Ed blinked, “I thought you loved acting.”

“I do! It’s just… opening a show is always nerve-wracking. The first show can really set morale for the rest, so it’s gotta be good. And some actors, not me, of course-”

“Oh, of course.” Ed agreed wryly, receiving an exasperated look from the other.

“-some actors just get progressively worse and worse if they start out making mistakes. It’s a mental thing, ya know? Everyone wants the show to go smoothly, but nobody trusts the other actors to take it seriously and try their best!” Roy sighed.

Ed grinned a bit at his expense, taking the opportunity to run his fingers in Roy’s hair with the hand not holding his fork. Russel and Rose entered the room around this time, immediately making gagging noises at Ed’s show of affection. He put his fork down to flip the duo off before turning back to Roy, who looked like he was trying not to laugh in favor of being dramatic and sad. “You’ll fucking rock it, Roy. You know that. Besides, how can this thing fail if I’m involved? Like I told Al, I didn’t waste two weeks of my life to let my efforts crash and burn. Plus, you get to beat the shit out of Jean with a fake sword! You’re forgetting your blessings here, man.”

“That’s the spirit,” Roy laughed, “Can I snag a fry?”

Ed consented said snag, wondering aloud, “Did you not get your own food?”

Roy shook his head, now lifted from his arms, “I’d throw it all up.”

Ed put down his own fry, “You and Al need to stop it with the puke-talk!” He could hear Al laugh behind him as he exited the classroom with James for more food, Ed presumed.

Roy was going to respond, when Val poked her head into the room, obviously looking for him, “Roy! We’ve been looking all over for you, we need to run lines for scene six and find Al! Meet us onstage in five.” She flipped her hair back and strode back into the hall.

Ed noticed Roy instantly slump back down and couldn’t stop the angry, “Fucking bitch,” from leaving his mouth.

Roy shook his head, “Only on production week. Usually, Val’s sweet.” He moved to stand, looking confused when Ed did as well.

“No, wait a moment!” Ignoring his friends’ joking comments about PDA, Ed pulled Roy into a hug, murmuring, “Don’t let yourself get too worked up, yeah? I’ll see you after school.”

He could practically feel Roy’s smile as the boyfriend in question gave Ed a reciprocating squeeze and stepped back, “See you then.”

He turned with a wave and left for the theater, and Ed sat back in his seat.

“You two are disgusting,” Russel commented. Ed just grinned at him.

-----

As Ed predicted, Roy killed it onstage. Jean probably had a few new welts from that sword, but the scene looked great so he’d let it slide. As a matter of fact, the only person who majorly messed up was Val Smith (which had Ed mentally cheering, unabashed at his own malice. He just really fucking hated Val). Back in the changing rooms, Ed found his boyfriend hugging a few of the actresses in celebration of a well-done opening show, face red from exertion and makeup wipes.

“What did I fucking tell you, Roy Mustang?” Ed asked, making Roy look up. The girls (Christie and Paninya, Ed noticed with a grimace) collectively grinned and pushed Roy out of their arms to Ed, who caught him before they both crashed to the ground. Roy’s laugh was contagious as he hugged Ed tightly, and the blonde found himself chuckling along with him.

The quick (and rather violent, in Ed’s humble opinion) kiss was a surprise, and Ed was still reeling a bit as Roy raved, “Ed, it went so well! You did great!” above the ‘Oooooo’s sent their way by Al and Jean (who was, in fact, holding a small ice pack to his waist).

Ed blushed a bit at the compliment, “Hey, I told you I wouldn’t let my wasted afternoons be for nothing. Besides, tonight was pretty fun, at least. Not saying the rehearsals were at all, though.”

That seemed to be the right response, because Roy totally lit up, obviously glad that Ed had had some fun in the subject he adored. Then, however, a smirk blanketed his glee, “So you’d help with the next show too?”

“What? I NEVER said that! You must be diluted or something!” Ed fussed over Roy’s laugh.

But as they left each other’s holds for Roy to finish changing back into his normal clothing Ed realized, deep down, that he would most likely end up helping his boyfriend if he asked. Because, as much as he hated theater, he kind of fucking loved Roy Mustang.  

Welcome to the Gift of Condescension

We’re proud to present a guest post today by blogger and Yale Divinity School student James, who has written series of articles for us in past about Planetarian and Steins;gate. Note: this essay is based solely on the anime adaptation of Welcome to the N.H.K. rather than the light novel or manga, whose stories differ in some respects. All quoted dialogue is from ADV’s English dub.

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Humans bristle when they suspect someone is being condescending toward them. Either pride impels them to reject a condescending person’s claim to superiority, or their own sense of inferiority drives them to isolate themselves, anything to escape the critical gaze of others.

Sato, the protagonist of Welcome to the N.H.K., falls into the second category. Whenever he goes out in public he is convinced everyone is looking down on him. As a result, at the start of the series he is a hikikomori, a college drop-out with no job who lives on his parents’ money and has barely left his apartment over the past four years.

However, he meets a girl named Misaki who is going door-to-door with her aunt passing out religious tracts on the growing social epidemic of hikikomori. She later summons him to a local park and announces her intention to “rescue” him. Her motivation? “I’m just a sweet little girl who wants to help you out.”

Coming from a perfect stranger, this would be odd even if Sato’s only flaws were his social ineptitude and crippling paranoia. But given that after only a few episodes the audience—and, to some extent, Misaki—can see he’s a porn-addled pervert, her persistence becomes downright uncanny: “It’s all right. I still just want to help you get better, you know?” Sato is understandably dumbfounded: “What’s up with that girl?! What the hell’s going on?!” On further reflection he wonders, “What if she’s like some guardian angel sent here to rescue me or something?”

Sato’s turn to a divine explanation for Misaki’s inexplicable behavior might seem fantastical to some, but it is actually quite natural. While the condescension humans have for one another is contemptuous, there is also such a thing as divine condescension, an attitude of mercy and grace that is devoid of cruelty or self-interest. The Bible teaches that God shows humanity such divine condescension, for example in Psalm 113:6–7, “He stoops to look down on heaven and on earth. He lifts the poor from the dust and the needy from the garbage dump.” Small wonder, then, that Sato begins to see Misaki as an angelic figure and accepts her help.

But this image of Misaki soon begins to crack when she suggests he deal with the insecurity born of his own personal failings by looking down on others—i.e., by practicing the human condescension Sato suspects everyone of showing toward him: “If you find it too difficult to elevate yourself, you just have to put everyone else below you. Just look down on them. That way, even if they do think you’re stupid, at least you’re even.” Misaki then blithely admits she does this herself when dealing with Sato, which naturally angers him. She tries to placate him, but her facade has already fractured.

Eventually Sato begins to question Misaki’s motives: “I don’t know who she is! I don’t know why she’s helping me or if she’s helping me! I’m completely in the dark.” He even wonders if she intends to keep him a hikikomori forever.

Sato’s suspicions are later shown to be justified when he is on the verge of committing suicide and she attempts to talk him down:

Sato, you’re not a rock on the side of the road! You’re a human being! That’s right! You’re a flesh-and-blood failure of a human being! You’re special! You’re the only one! More useless and an even bigger waste of flesh than I am! A hikikomori like you is even lower than a stray dog! I need you, Sato! I can’t live without you! So please…Sato…you just can’t die now, you can’t!

In short, Misaki’s apparent display of divine condescension toward Sato is really a display of human, all too human condescension. Far from rescuing him, her purpose is to enable his hikikomori lifestyle so she can continue to feel better by comparison. All human relationships are defined by this sort of callous self-justification, or so an old classmate of Sato’s named Megumi subsequently tells him:

I know you’re not stupid, Sato. By now I’m sure you’ve realized that this world is looking down on you. That they think you’re scum. Don’t you understand, Sato? They’re using you for their own selfish needs. Society wants hikikomori like you to exist. It makes them secure. It gives them someone to look down on. Even if their lives are falling apart they can always say, “At least I’m better off than that guy.” Don’t you see? This world’s dog-eat-dog! It’s a zero-sum game! If you don’t look down on others then they’re going to look down on you!

As to how Sato and Misaki’s relationship ends up, that is not our concern here. Rather let us ask, what are we to make of Sato’s search for grace? I would say his instinct in associating disinterested mercy with the divine is sound. Still, he was mistaken in trying to find such mercy in a mere human, for as Megumi rightly observes, people always seek to justify themselves. So too in Luke 18:11 the Pharisee prays, “God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector.”

The question thus becomes, is there any divinity in which we can find merciful condescension? Misaki, for her part, is convinced that “if there’s a God, then he’s evil for sure” because so much of life is spent in suffering: “Logically there’s no way a God who created such a horrible, unfair world can be a good person. So God is evil without any doubt. It’s the obvious truth.”

This objection to God is prevalent in anime (and, of course, among religious skeptics in general). I will not address the charge here, as others wiser than I have already responded. Nevertheless, I will say this: humans desire above all else to be known and loved despite their repulsiveness, and more than that, to become truly better people, to overcome their sins and failings. In these respects Sato is representative and gives us an opportunity to look hard at ourselves, if we can stand it. Welcome to the N.H.K. illustrates that we cannot hope to find such mercy and aid in mere humans, whether friends or lovers, but it stumbles in suggesting that God is, if anything, the problem rather than the solution.

Misaki insists that God made the world full of suffering as a divine conspiracy of sorts, but it is the first humans, Adam and Eve, who chose to sin and thereby brought suffering upon themselves and all who came after. Similarly, Sato’s old senpai Hitomi claims “there’s no such thing as a bad person,” but in reality the world is full of nothing but bad people. In our sorry state we grasp hungrily for understanding and absolution, but the only one who says to us, “I know you completely, yet I love you” is none other than Jesus the Christ, God in the flesh. He does not simply love us as we are and leave it at that, though – he cancels all our sins, past and future, and changes who we are, if we will trust, believe in, and follow him.

Thus, Christians believe divine condescension is real, that such condescension can be found in the person of Christ, and that in following him we are not only forgiven but also perfected. As it is written in Philippians 2:6–8, Christ,

Being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death—even death on a cross!

Even after confessing faith in Christ our lives will be riddled with regressions, just as Sato resolves to leave behind his hikikomori ways multiple times and just as many times falls back into them. But God, despite our many failures, will grant us forgiveness if we turn again toward him and seek it, as it is written in 1 John 1:9, “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” In this truly divine condescension toward our persistent weakness lies the perfect sweetness, rest, and comfort we are all too liable to look for in fallen humans.

O God, no man or creature can help or comfort me, so great is my misery; for my ailment is not physical or temporal. Therefore You, being God, and the One always able to help me, have mercy on me. For without Your mercy all things are terrifying and averse to me.

But I beseech You of Your kindness to have mercy on me—not the lesser mercy which you show temporarily for physical distress, but Your greater mercy which You show for the distress of the soul. Have mercy on me, and forgive me my sin. Amen. –Martin Luther

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James is student at Yale Divinity School who loves thinking about theology and how it factors into his favorite stories. His writings on theology, philosophy, and other topics can be found on Wordpress, and you can also find him on Twitter.