#would love to know what Mrs. Grimmer thought of that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

slashingdisneypasta · 3 years

Text

Slashers / Horror Villains as: Animated (Children’s) Movie Villain Songs

+ A Nightmare Before Christmas

First of all, its mostly Disney. Second of all, I hope you know that this was a struggle for me.

Also, note, Bubba will be the only Leatherface in this post and Billy and Stu will be the only Ghostfaces. There is Norma Bates though, so sort of a consolation.

There are links to videos on YouTube ^^

~~~

Billy Loomis and Stu Macher / Ghostface: Playing With the Big Boy’s Now (Hotep and Huy, Prince of Egypt)

Well... they’re part of the ‘big boys’, now! They are part of the Slashers group that, uh, ‘inspired them’. Imagine instead of Egyptian Gods, they’re chanting Slasher names.

[HUY] Pick up your silly twig, boy [HOTEP & HUY] You're playing with the big boys now! Ha ha ha ha!

[EGYPTIAN PRIESTS] By the power of Ra Mut, Nut, Khnum, Ptah Sobek, Sekhmet, Sokar, Selket Anubis, Anukis Hemsut, Tefnut, Meshkent, Mafdet...

Chop Top and Nubbins + Bubba Sawyer / Leatherface: Kidnap Mr Sandy Claws (Lock, Shock and Barrel, Nightmare Before Christmas)

I mean... they aren't Drayton’s minions, but they are like this XD

I say that we take a cannon, aim it at his door And then knock three times And when he answers Sandy Claws will be no more

Yes you're so stupid, think now If we blow him up to smithereens We may lose some pieces And then Jack will beat us black and green

Kidnap the Sandy Claws Tie him in a bag

Chucky / Charles Lee Ray: In The Dark Of The Night (Rasputin, Anastasia)

Mystical man? Check! ‘Betrayal’ (As far as he sees it)? Check. Made them pay? Check; I think Nica, Sarah and all the other families he destroys throughout the franchise can attest to that. And ‘One little girl got away’? Well Andy isn’t a girl, but yeah. Check.

I was once the most mystical man in all Russia When the royals betrayed me they mad a mistake My curse made each of them pay But one little girl got away Little Anya, beware Rasputin's awake

Drayton Sawyer: Don’t Fall In Love (Forte, Beauty and the Beast: The Enchanted Christmas)

Its such a crochety, unessessarily rude way of describing relationships to someone! I mean, I understand completely and resonate deeply with the desire to be alone and not be responsible for anyone else, but- come on! Beast doesn't share your view! Let it go!

Its just like Drayton’s reaction to Bubba having a crush. Super cool video too!

As soon as your heart rules your head Your life is not your own It's hell when someone's always there It's bliss to be alone

And love of any kind is bad A dog, a child, a cat They take up so much precious time Now, where's the sense in that?

Freddy Krueger: No More Mr Nice Guy (Rothbart, Swan Princess)

A man with an uncomfortable relationship with the main female character pretending to be normal and not homicidal for a while before unlocking more power and letting there inner bad guy loose and taking great pleasure in it? Sounds familiar. They also have a similar vocabulary- except of course Rothbart is rated G.

I'll become that nasty, naughty, dirty, spiteful Wicked, wayward, way-delightful Bad guy I was born to be

Lyin' loathesome, never-tender Indiscreet repeat offender No more Mr Nice Guy That's not me

Inkubus: The World’s Greatest Criminal Mind (Professor Rattigan, The Greatest Mouse Detective)

‘Inkubus’ is literally a movie about him listing all his crimes over the centuries and messing with the police force because he has a bone to pick with a detective. Sounds pretty similar to me! Listen to the song! ^^

Now comes the real tour de force Tricky and wicked, of course! My earlier crimes were fine for their times But now that I'm at it again An even grimmer plot has been simmering In my great criminal brain!

Jason Voorhees: Despicable Me (About Gru, Despicable Me)

I... this is all I could think of!! But the more I listen to it and read the lyrics... it f i t s Jason so well! XD Please just let this slide; I know Gru isn't really a villain but he is at the start!! Let me have this.

Why ask why? Better yet "Why not?" Why are you marking x on that spot? Why use a blow torch isn't that hot? Why use a chainsaw? Is that all you got? Why do you like seeing people in shock? But my question to you is "Why not?" Why go to the bank and stand in line Just use a freeze gun it saves me time. I'm havin' a bad, bad day It's about time that I get my way Steam rollin' whatever I see, Huh, despicable me I'm havin' a bad, bad day If you take it personal that's okay Watch, this is so fun to see Huh, despicable me

Jennifer Check: Trust In Me (Kaa, The Jungle Book)

She’s a succubus demon. Tempting boys into a safe-feeling, docile state so she she can strike is her thing.

Will cease to resist Just relax Be at rest Like a bird In a nest

Trust in me Just in me Shut your eyes And trust in me

Mayor Buckman and Granny Boone: Savages (Governor Ratcliffe and the Colonizer’s parts, Pocahontas)

Obviously, because of the (Inaccurate) historical relevance of both movies (Different time’s, same terrible prejudice,) and also because there is definitely a very cult-ish feel about both Governor Ratcliffe’s song and Buckman’s leadership. How easily they’re able to gather support from their people for the most horrible reasons. How horrifying it is to audiences and historians.

They're only good when dead They're vermin, as I said And worse

They're savages! Savages!

Barely even human

Savages! Savages!

Drive them from our shore! They're not like you and me Which means they must be evil We must sound the drums of war!

Michael Myers: The Gospel Truth II (Muses about Hades, Hercules)

In a Disney movie, Michael would have others sing his song about him as he goes about his silent, determined walking XD

If there's one God you don't want to get steamed up It's Hades 'Cause he had an evil plan He ran the underworld But thought the dead were dull and uncouth He was as mean as he was ruthless And that's the gospel truth He had a plan to shake things up And that's the gospel truth

Midnight Man: Oogie Boogie’s Song (Oogie Boogie, Nightmare Before Christmas)

A song about a “Gamblin’ Boogie Man” is perfect for the Midnight Man! He and Oogie could be pals.

Woah! The sound of rollin' dice To me is music in the air 'Cause I'm a gamblin' Boogie Man Although I don't play fair It's much more fun, I must confess When lives are on the line Not mine, of course, but yours, old boy Now that'd be just fine

Norma Bates: Mother Knows Best Reprise (Mother Gothel, Tangled)

Norma is soooooo so so so unbelievably manipulative towards Norman (And Dylan. It just works better on Norman) and this song absolutely presents that. She can go from sweet, loving mother to spiteful, heinous bitch in two seconds if Norman or Dylan don't do what or react the way she wants them to.

Likes you? Please, Rapunzel, that's demented

This is why you never should have left! Dear, this whole romance that you've invented, Just proves you're too naive to be here Why would he like you? Come on now, really! Look at you, you think that he's impressed? Don't be a dummy Come with mummy

Pamela Voorhees: My Lullaby (Zira, The Lion King 2)

In a opposite approach to a villainous mother to Norma, we have Pam, who was heartbroken by the camp councillors letting her son die and vowed to get revenge. She didn't know she was teaching Jason to be the Crystal Lake killer like Zira did, but she did, and the whole song does have her kind of feel to it also.

Sleep, my little Kovu Let your dreams take wing One day when you're big and strong You will be a kingI've been exiled, persecuted Left alone with no defense When I think of what that brute did I get a little tense But I dream a dream so pretty That I don't feel so depressed 'Cause it soothes my inner kitty And it helps me get some rest

Patrick Bateman: Cruella De Vil (Arthur, 101 Dalmations)

Never before was there a song that described audiences reaction to watching Patrick living in his daily life and hearing his thoughts better then this one.

Cruella De Vil Cruella De Vil If she doesn't scare you No evil thing will To see her is to Take a sudden chill Cruella, Cruella De Vil

The curl of her lips The ice in her stare All innocent children Had better beware She's like a spider waiting For the kill Look out for Cruella De Vil

Pennywise (Both): You’re Only Second Rate (Jafar, Return of Jafar)

Mostly for the video and Jafar’s energy in this scene actually XD So many transformations, so many tasteless puns! I was going to give this to Freddy but its the closest thing to Penny I could think of.

Go ahead and zap me with the big surprise Snap me in a trap, cut me down to size I'll make a great escape It's just a piece of cake You're only second rate You know your hocus-pocus isn't tough enough And your mumbo-jumbo doesn't measure up Let me pontificate upon your sorry state You're only second rate

Sheriff Hoyt / Charlie Hewitt: Hellfire (Judge Claude Frollo, Hunchback of Notre Dame)

A nasty filthy man who think’s he’s in the right despite being the biggest creep and monster ever? Mhm.

*Note: I honestly didn't notice the deformed baby, Quasimodo/Thomas link until the day after I wrote this. Don't know how I feel about it. I mean, Hoyt is actually nice, in his way, to Thomas so the connection isn't totally there but onwards:

Beata Maria You know I am a righteous man Of my virtue I am justly proud

Beata Maria You know I'm so much purer than The common, vulgar, weak, licentious crowd

End of Post! 🌼

(Bonus’ under the cut)

I did think of other connections which I obviously didnt landed on but still have merit! Here!

Billy Loomis and Stu Macher: ‘Gaston’ was considered, but that would have just been a joke XD I don’t think Stu is quite as obsessed with Billy as LeFou is with Gaston.

Chucky: Friends on the Other Side. Obviously! That link was actually what inspired me to make this post. In The Dark of Night fits to a T though.

Freddy Krueger: You’re Only Second Rate! Ah, its perfectttt. But No More Mr Nice Guy fits better. If I ever do a Slashers as Disney Villains post, he’ll be Jafar for sure. Or Hades. Or Scar. Or Oogie. Probably Hades. You know what? Without the gore and blood and explicit sexual references, Freddy could be a Disney Villain himself. Its not like Disney hasn't towed the line before with perverted villains. >_> (Jafar and Frollo)

Jason and Pamela Voorhees: Mother Knows Best! Of course.

Jennifer Check: Love is For Peasants (Barbie Island Princess) Because Jennifer thinks like this:

Men? <<< Literally anything else.

Patrick Bateman: How Can I Refuse? (From Barbie Princess and the Pauper) XD If Patrick were a kids movie villain, he would totally join the ranks of corrupted usurpers pretending to be trustworthy royal advisory staff. Also ‘Let It Die’, that little interruption part of another song that O’Hare sings in the Lorax and ‘How Bad Can I be?’.

181 notes · View notes

threecheersforinking · 3 years

Text

Anime Review: Monster

**spoilers ahead!!!!** (spoiler free recommendation post here!)

I’m a huge nut for mystery novels, Agatha Christie specifically. If you’re familiar with Christie’s work, you’ll know that you basically can’t trust anyone, ever, no matter how much of an alibi they have. Everyone, even the narrator, has the potential to be the killer.

This paranoia definitely carried over in my brain when I was watching Monster; despite how much I loved his character, I really genuinely did not trust Kenzo Tenma. I was very suspicious of the fact that he didn’t have an alibi for the murders of the hospital director and others, and inspector Lunge’s hypothesis that Johan didn’t even exist made me very concerned that Tenma was behind it all.

This didn’t check out, of course; Johan made many connections with individuals that Tenma hadn’t met, and Nina’s existence and memories made it clear that Johan was a real person. Still, I couldn’t shake that idea, and while I was ultimately relieved that Tenma was really just a good person who got caught up in a huge mess, I do think it would’ve been an interesting plot twist.

Something I think Monster does incredibly well is weave in minor characters. While watching, I would joke about how every time a new character was introduced they were likely to die within the next three episodes. That happened quite often, however every single character, even the ones who died within the same episode they were introduced, were just as relevant to the plot.

Overall, Dieter was probably my favorite character; besides Nina, I think he was the best representation of how love and support are capable of saving even the most traumatized individual. His relationships with Tenma and Nina were adorable and I was relieved that he got a happy ending playing soccer and living with Dr. Reichwein (another great character). I also really loved Mr. Grimmer, despite his tragic end.

Tying into the situation with Grimmer, something else about Monster that I really loved was the overall theme of names, and how they connect to identity. Nina felt fully comfortable being named Nina Fortner because of how much she loved the Fortners. She felt no real need to find her real name, nor did she feel a sense of emptiness or loss. Meanwhile, Johan wasn’t named by anyone who loved him, and he spent formative years being essentially tortured in an orphanage where no one had a true name, which solidified the ‘monster’ within him.

Johan was a very compelling villain; he was unpredictable, and had interesting motives that were difficult to comprehend until the very end. Not gonna lie, I did have to watch some youtube video essays to fully understand that ending; but what I’ve concluded is that it’s up to interpretation.

Please let me know your thoughts on Monster, and who your favorite character was!

Thanks for reading,

-threecheersforinking

**in case you were scrolling from the bottom, this post contains spoilers!!!**

#monster #monster anime #monster anime spoilers #monster spoilers #naoki urasawa's monster #naoki urasawa #anime review #anime rec blog #anime blog

29 notes · View notes

captain-apostrophe · 3 years

Text

Fic Writer Interview

I was tagged by @piyo-13 - hey, thanks Piyo! :D

How many works do you have on AO3?

What’s your total AO3 word count?

754,057

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Just the one (unless we count the dark depths of my early teenage LoTR investment) - MDZS/CQL. Sorry, people who get mad at those who conflate the drama with the book, my memory isn’t good enough for me to remember what specific points I get from which!

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

we both know better (maybe we don’t)

The Hand is a Voice (that can sing what the voice will not)

hard to say (it’s all for you)

Not Mad About It

alone at christmas?

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I do! I absolutely don’t judge authors who don’t, but for me it’s a way of staying present with my readers. It also gives me chances to tease, to hint at things, to reassure or answer the occasional question etc.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Considering some of the grimmer prompt fics I’ve put up, that’s hard to say - maybe one of the Xue Yang ones, Play or Haunt perhaps? I prefer nice endings most of the time but the short fics have been a fun opportunity to let things get a little nasty.

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

Nope - I don’t personally see the appeal.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I was at one point harassed by someone delusional enough to think that their “love” of Jiang Cheng was a good reason to go through every single fic I’ve posted and leave nasty comments on them because I mostly write SangCheng. They called Nie Huaisang ugly and also implied a few times that I only wrote him as a self-insert so I could vicariously “be with” Jiang Cheng (weird how people project their own issues onto others, isn’t it?) - and while I won’t deny I’ve given Huaisang a few of my own hobbies and such, if I was going to write self-insert fic it wouldn’t be with Jiang Cheng. No offense to him but he’s not even my type!

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Yes, to the point that to look at my ao3 works posted you probably wouldn’t believe me if I said I’d never thought I would! What kind as in involved parties/genders? Mostly M/M (or I guess M/M/M) but M/F at times and one of these days I *will* get around to writing an F/F couple.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

If so, I don’t know about it!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Somebody did begin translating Not Mad About It into Russian, but I’m not sure if they plan to continue. If podfic counts there’s also one that has been recorded of one of my prompt fics, Stick The Landing.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I’ve collaborated a bit with my friend @megalodont - most notably perhaps with the Jianghulloween Trick or Treat chapters for WBKB, though we have some other stuff we haven’t finished/posted yet. I tend to feel very particular and possessive about what I write, though, so I can’t imagine doing that with a lot of people - we would need to be completely on the same page about what we’re writing, and to have complementary writing style/ability, too.

What’s your all time favorite ship?

How convenient for me that I’ve never really gotten into shipping/fandom stuff for any other property! I guess as I said above I’m a SangCheng main, but QingJue is a strong contender too!

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Well, I’m fiercely determined to finish everything I’ve begun posting, but there are a few oneshot WIPs I have in my files that sink lower and lower in priority every day. Probably the SongXueXiao response to Fighting Mr 2nd including a scene that I felt was extremely, uncomfortably noncon but that didn’t treat it as such (obviously the mature response to that frustration was to write a fic where that happened but it WAS noncon, right? That’s - that’s what you do about that, right?).

What are your writing strengths?

I like to think I can set a scene - describing settings is something I really enjoy doing, and I think I’m pretty alright at it. Judging by my inbox I’m also good at making characters (and readers) cry.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Remembering what the eff I wrote? My memory for sure, though, is a problem - if I didn’t write myself notes, I don’t remember it. Also, brevity. I can’t be succinct to save my life.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I think that it has a place, for example if the POV character is being deliberately left out or their lack of understanding what is said is meaningful (though I’d be more likely to just say that people are speaking and the character doesn’t understand, rather than give the reader actual text that they would then just go put through google translate anyway). What wass my point? Right, it probably has a place, but that place isn’t in my fics - especially since I don’t actually speak other languages. (I’m not including occasional non-English words here, since that feels like a different issue especially when writing in a fandom that’s not originally English-language, which gets you into issues of translation and words/terms that don’t HAVE specific equivalents etc etc)

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Lord of the Rings. And hey, SangCheng troll, that one WAS self-insert fic because I had *such* a crush on Eomer, Third Marshal of the Riddermark/King of Rohan.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I always hate this question - how can one choose their favourite?! I think I give a different answer every time. Let’s see, today my favourite is Autonomous because it has such good lighting.

Tagging people is actually so difficult because it requires me to remember who I know who even IS also a fic writer! @megalodont of course, but also... @demoiselledefortune? @mulberrylotus? @two-idiots-in-love? @lefthandsuzukimethod? forgive me Ana I’m pretty sure I tag you every single time saying that I don’t remember if you write. Well guess what! I still don’t remember!

Anyway if y’all want to answer then here it is. And if anyone reading this wants to then consider yourself tagged, too. <3

#fic writer interview #tag game #cap' writes

7 notes · View notes

runesfactory · 3 years

Text

run cried the crawling | chapter 01

summary: Tasokare Hotel is a place that exists between the real world and the afterlife. A residing place for spirits whose fate has yet been decided. To die or to live on. Aesop has yet to discover the truth behind his own near demise. It was until a stranger walked through the doors of the hotel with an owl head that the horrific truth began to unravel.

pairing: aesop carl x eli clark

genre: mystery, supernatural, horror & romance

warnings: mature themes. descriptive writing of violence and blood. body horror. strong angst. equally strong romance. heavy pining. mild profanity. death. tasokare hotel spoilers.

word count: 3261

chapters: 01 | 02 | ...

To Aesop, thoughts about your fate after death aren't unusual. The afterlife and qhat not. However, spending his time at a vintage hotel certainly never crossed his mind. A hotel in the middle of a barren world, might he add.

Yet here Aesop stands, behind the receptionist desk beside Vera Nair, the manager’s assistant. The Hotel Manager told Aesop that he’d be away for a minute or two. He knows very well that the Manager has just left his responsibilities by going around, aimlessly, or taking a nap somewhere in this hotel. “That damn useless manager!” Vera curses under her breath, slamming her fist on the desk. He doesn't feel like he’s qualified for a task like this, welcoming guests and all. Surely not because his previous occupation focuses mainly on interacting with the dead rather than the living. But they're technically not alive, are they?

The Hotel Manager of this hotel is quite the character. He’s not human, first of all. He remembered feeling freaked out by the flame-headed man when they first met. However, he’s not the only non-human in this hotel. Vera Nair and Lucchino are the two other non-humans, though Vera seems human. He once tried asking her and she only gave her a knowing smile, saying ‘wouldn’t you like to know’.

This is quite the world. It feels as if time never passes. The sky remains the same, so it’s difficult to tell whether minutes or hours have passed.

At this point, who knows how long he’s been waiting until his time to move on as a spirit comes. When will that time be? He doesn’t know. For all he knows, it could be forever that he stays there. To be honest, he doesn’t mind it all that much. The unknown unease him and the questions around his own fate are filled with it. If he were to spend the rest of his life in this state of limbo, he wouldn't really mind. Maybe.

The window of the lobby glares the shade of yellow and orange from the sky outside. Time doesn’t move in this place. As its name suggests, time remains between the twilight and sunset. Most of the rooms have windows showing exactly that, but Aesop’s room has a piece of the night sky. He realized it has changed not long after his arrival. The dark blue sky littered with tiny freckles of stars decorating the blank surface. He quite likes it.

Perhaps the change of sky has something to do with his memory? That the change is significant? He wonders what it could possibly mean. Perhaps he died at night time. To have died at night... It makes him wonder whether he had a peaceful death of some sort. The very reason why he’s still glued to this enigma of a place that is the hotel.

His death. How did he die? And why?

Those are the questions that kept lingering in his mind. The key to his departure from this hotel yet the clues given to him left him were bits and pieces of memories and information of what his life might've been like. Nothing detrimental to his death. It leaves him with more questions than answers really.

His name is Aesop Carl. He's 21. He works, well, worked to be more precise as an embalmer. He was quite fond of his work, proud of his craft, perhaps still is. And he was (or maybe still is) in a relationship with a man. However, the portrait of him and said person had been burned off. The corner of the portrait had the initials ‘A&EC’ written on the back of it. He wondered if the initials belonged to them. It’s strange that he couldn’t recall the face of the man, but he believes the person was important to him. Perhaps still is.

It’s frustrating to not remember anything.

Those were the only things he knew about himself so far. Then other things came along such as he's not so terrible at cooking, quite adept in the art of ballet, and doesn't enjoy the company of strangers.

Nothing gave him a hint as to what might've happened to him. Not a single clue. The closest thing he knows to his death is the night sky of his room and the burned portrait. Perhaps, he was burned alive. A gruesome thought really, but he doesn't dismiss the possibility.

It's not enough to merely guess how you've died. You have to be certain. At least that’s what he concluded from observing other guests who’ve successfully passed on from here. Slowly, he's given up on the hopes of returning to the real world. Death is inevitable. That's what he says to himself every day as an Embalmer.

"So much to learn yet not a single clue…" He mumbles to himself, leaning his back against the drawers behind him, and crosses both of his arms across his chest. His eyes remain fixated on the windows tinted with orange. He’s left by himself, Vera had told him that she needs to take care of the matters in the bar even though he knows they don’t have any guests. Well, he brushes it off. It doesn’t really matter.

"Mr. Aesop! Good morning!" A voice greets him and when he turns to looks. It’s Emma, the hotel’s gardener, and cleaning service. Her face is always covered with hints of dirt. The same goes for her whole attire whenever he sees her. She always greets everyone with a lot of enthusiasm, so warm and cheerful. Even to him although he’s more than aware he comes off as quite off-putting to most if not all people.

Aesop finds it difficult to get close to anyone, always thinking either they might not really like him or they’re out to get him. He finds it hard to tell if anyone is being genuine at all. However, Emma is one of the few exceptions. Her company aside, her peculiar interest in plants piqued his interest and reminded him of his own interests although his are much grimmer by comparison. Although, he's quite fond of certain plants himself and Emma's always more than happy to provide.

“Ms. Woods,” Aesop responds softly, nodding slightly. “Working hard in the garden as usual?”

“Yes! The mini garden I’ve created in my room has grown splendidly! I’d love to show you some of the berries that have sprouted.” Emma giggles, clenching her hands together while her eyes glimmer. “If you feel comfortable, please do visit my room when you have some time to spare!”

To the offer, he can only smile though eyes avoiding hers, “I’ll consider it.”

The entrance door creaks, opening itself. Both of their eyes shifted to the figure walking through the door. A stranger walks in with the head of an owl.

Upon their first arrival, each individual who hasn't figured out who they are will have their faces hidden. Not every person who enters the hotel has it, as he quickly found out. Their heads are often covered by some form of a mask. It seems that the same thing has happened to this individual.

"Welcome to Tasokare Hotel," He bows slightly, putting his best facade, "How may I be of service to you, sir?"

"A hotel?" The stranger tilts their head to the side. "Sorry, I just have no idea where to go and it seems that wherever I go I always encounter this building. A hotel, you say…"

"Yes, sir."

"How strange. I've never seen a hotel such as this before. Let alone in the middle of nowhere." The stranger tilts his head up, gazing around the building, taking in the atmosphere of the hotel.

"This hotel lies between the two realms of the real world and the afterlife." Aesop continues to explain while taking out the guest book, displaying it across the table to the stranger. "A spirit such as yourself encounters this place simply because you are lying between those two realms."

"A spirit?" The stranger continues to questions. "Ah, would that mean I'm dead?" He asks rather calmly.

Emma shakes her head, continuing off Aesop, "Not quite! You have yet to die and that's why you're here."

"I see." The stranger mumbles. Aesop wasn't as calm as this when he first discovered the place. He was quite frantic, panicking and adamant that it was all a dream. Possibly freaked the Hotel Manager off.

"Okay, sir. If you could just sign here please then I'll ask a staff member to help you."

"O-oh, I don't think I can afford to pay to stay here."

"There is no need," Aesop replies shortly, handing the stranger the pen. It might've caught the stranger off guard, yet he signed on the book anyway.

"Well," He pauses, before calmly saying, "It seems like I don't remember my name."

"That's quite normal here, no need to worry." Emma smiles widely at the stranger. "It's part of our job to help you remember your memories!"

"My memories?"

"Yes! Your room will tell us bits and pieces about you and what happened to you. Of course, we can only help with certain things such as finding items that may look important to you. Items that might trigger them."

"Is that so? Will remembering help me move on from this place?"

"Bingo!" She gives him a finger gun gesture. "Either that or you may return back to the real world. The reason why most of us are still here is that our body's still somewhat intact in the real world."

"Most of us?" He seems surprised. "Ah, are you-"

"Most of us are spirits as well, yes." She puts it simply.

"Ah, I see. I apologize if I come off as insensitive." The stranger bows slightly. It's difficult to tell what expression he was making with the owl head though, from the soft tone he uses, Aesop can tell it was genuine.

"There is no need to apologize. This is hardly a normal circumstance to be in. Understandably it's hard for anybody to internalize." The second the stranger completes signing up the book, Aesop shuts it close and puts it back on the shelf. He turns his back towards the stranger, reaching out to a key in one of the drawers behind him.

He stands still for a moment. Perhaps that may be a little too harsh, Aesop thinks to himself. However, it's true. Arriving at this strange hotel, being told that you're hanging by a thread between life and death. Can anyone afford to be careful with what they say around the subject?

"You're certainly right, Mr…"

"Carl. Aesop Carl."

"Mr. Carl,” The stranger speaks his name gently. “Thank you for easing some of my concerns! And thank you too, Miss…”

“Miss Woods. You may call me Emma, I don’t really mind.” Emma waves her hand at him. “Mr. Aesop, you should take the kind gentleman to his room! Ah, ah, ah,” She lifts her finger at Aesop. An immediate response before Aesop could protest. “I’ll take over the desk for a while. Besides, we don’t get that many guests these days. It’ll be fine. Let me quickly change my clothes!”

For a moment, he hesitates. By the looks on Emma’s face, it wouldn’t go anywhere if he were to argue with her. He doesn’t like confrontation, so he lets out a sigh, Emma squeals at this then continues to rush to her room as fast as she could. Aesop turns to the stranger, “Alright, sir. I’ll be guiding and assisting you if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all! Please lead the way.”

The red carpet and vintage wallpaper across the halls of the hotel give off the old-style aesthetic. The whole building is filled to the brim with vintage furniture, even more so in the bar area where you can hear jazz music echo through the room. It is a miracle that the Hotel Manager was able to maintain the cleanliness of this space, though he’s very much convinced it’s all thanks to the staff that was here prior to his arrival.

Aesop and the stranger walk down the halls of the second floor. He lives on the same floor as well. It’s a very quiet floor. He likes the atmosphere. Each floor has similar grand decor, much different from the lobby. The red-carpeted floor with complicated patterns embroidered across it. Accompanied with a light, creamy wallpaper and the yellow tinted chandelier-like lights that go all the way through the hallway. It’s quite fancy.

Each step they take causes tiny thumps against the carpeted floor. It’s quiet. He appreciates that. He dreaded small talks, not quite because he dislikes the people themselves, but he just doesn’t know what to say. He much prefers this silence over having his thoughts rambling, him desperately grasping for any answers that would deem suitable to whoever he speaks to. Aesop thinks about the smallest details, the most trivial details. Simply put, small talks aren’t his forte.

He lets out a deep breath, stopping in front of the door of the room, “This is it.” He unlocks the door with the key in his hand then turns the knob, revealing the room.

Each individual room is like a piece of the person’s life summarized in a room. From the furniture to the color of the wallpaper and the flooring. The stranger’s room is quite simple. Aesop often encounters extravagant paintings, gold linen sheets, and such. But. There is nothing too extravagant about it aside from the peculiar birdcage standing near the bookshelf, not far from the door. The walls are colored in plain, navy blue shade with wooden flooring.

"This is quite the room." The stranger remarks, looking around the room perhaps with an awed look Aesop would imagine. “Does it fit your liking?" He asks quietly.

"Yes, yes, it does. I'm quite surprised actually. Impeccable service for a hotel in a stranded place” He jokes.

“No, any of the rooms can be like this. Depending on the guest.” Aesop puts it blatantly with a blank look on his face. The stranger laughs at the deadpan response. “I see. Even so, this feels… familiar. Almost homely.”

It always does. It did for Aesop. It didn’t take so long for him to get used to the comfort of his own chambers. The more he thought about it, it’s quite scary how easy he felt at home there. The familiar atmosphere and all. Almost as if to bring you a false sense of comfort. Every Time he steps outside of those comforting walls, he’s reminded again of the odd reality he currently lives in.

“So, I guess I’ll have to look around the room for clues, I assume?” The stranger walks toward the bed, grazing their hand over the metal frame of the bed.

“Yes. I’ll be assisting you in doing so.”

“That’d be immensely helpful. Thank you very much, Mr. Carl. You’ve been very helpful to ease my confusion. It’s quite comforting.” The stranger bows slightly before him, one hand behind him. The gesture caught Aesop off guard, though not to let it slip he simply huffs lightly. Again, he feels like behind that owl head he could sense a smile.

So the two began searching through the room.

There were only two rooms in this room. It’s quite small by comparison to the other ones he’s ever been in. However, spacious enough that it grants a jointed living room next to the bedroom. Aesop begins his search there while the stranger’s in the bedroom. Important documents and identification are his main priority. Those are the few things that could at least give the guests an identity to hang onto. A face to their masked selves. A person.

It wasn’t a long search. The room is quite small and there were only a handful of places they were able to look into. Aesop continues to fumble through knick-knacks around the room. There aren’t a lot of them around, barely any really. Rather, he finds plenty of journals and books regarding the stars, plenty related to birds as well. He concludes that the stranger is probably fond of owls the most, knowing his face is shaped as an owl. Aesop laughs softly at the excited scribbles of footnotes that they put in each of those journals.

However, he remains fixated on a couple of things. At the corner of every book he encounters, there’s an initial written on them.

E.C. Scribbled, carved, and written. His thumb grazed over the initial.

An initial that belongs to the stranger. It must be unless it’s a pseudonym. He wouldn’t really pass that possibility. Writers often do that. The more Aesop flicks through the pages, he couldn’t help but feel as if he’s seen such writing before. He brushes his fingers over the writing, deep in his own thoughts. Just who is this stranger? He can’t help but notice the way something is tugging itself in him.

He remains wary and curious all the same, but it wouldn’t help to bombard someone who has no clue of who they are with questions. He keeps the feeling to himself. After completing his search through the shelves, he heads back to the bedroom where the stranger is. The stranger was on the floor, surrounded by piles of documents and papers.

Aesop sees a man. No, the stranger, standing still, head looking down with his body facing towards the window. No longer did he have the head of an owl. The moonlight from outside casting over a halo-like outline of the strangers’ oddly still figure. It shines over the back of the head of the faceless stranger. He stands so incredibly still, almost statue-like. Aesop slowly approaches the figure, then-

“Eli,” The stranger speaks.

“I-I’m sorry?” Aesop stutters.

When the man turns around to face Aesop’s own grey eyes, he sees the lovely shade of navy blue. A glint of the moonlight reflected in their eyes and their dark brown hair. Now, maskless, he can clearly see the smile on the man’s face. “I remember it. My name. My name is Eli Clark.”

There’s a pounding in his head.

When Aesop takes a few steps closer to him, his eyes widen now feeling his body has frozen still. This is the only other room that shows the night sky. Moreso, they have the same view. It feels like looking out to his own window but from a different angle. He senses a thousand questions overwhelming his thoughts.

Eli… Eli Clark…

His mind echoes the name repeatedly like voices speaking simultaneously.

The other man turns to face him. The back of his head abruptly surged with an ache. As if he was--

-- hit on the back of his head. It was hard. Aesop's head greets the cold ground almost instantly. The impact left a ringing in his ear. His sight blurs. He hears an echo of the siren, slightly faint in his head. He desperately crawls his body across the ground, unsure of where to go but he remembers his lip moves.

The iron taste of his own blood lingers. A name on the tip of his tongue. Eli’s name. He needs to let Eli know. He feels his hand extend towards something. It reaches out towards a phone. Fingers grasping and scratching against the ground as he struggles to drag his body across the floor. He fails to notice the shadow that looms over his figure.

“Don’t you dare try to run away!” The figure cries out.

When the second hit strikes, his entire body remains still. He could feel the numbing pain across his head, the gushing liquid on the side of his head that leaks out slowly within his view. Before his eyes begin to give up, he senses another presence. The numbness reaches his head and before he knew it.

“E… Eli…” He whispers before passing out.

#identity v #elisop #aesopeli #aesop x eli #aesop carl #eli clark #mystery #supernatural #tasokare hotel au #thriller #romance #lots of pining #hurt & comfort #tragic but with a happy ending #runesfactory

17 notes · View notes

casually-inlove · 4 years

Note

Hello. In one of your responses, you wrote: "I also have things that I don't necessarily agree with." Can you tell us about it? I am very interested in your representation of this manhua. What do you think is written well in the story, and what is not? What would you add or remove? What is missing and what is too much in history? I would very much like to know your TianShan headcanon. I have too many "wants". I'm sorry if I was rude.

Dear anon, this was not rude at all. Indeed, you have many questions, so much as I try to be concise in my posts, this one is going to be very lengthy. Let me start with a little disclaimer. Everything below is entirely subjective. It is in no way meant to undermine anyone's enjoyment of the series, nor is it supposed to be an attack against the author. I value the comic's episodic nature and light-heartedness myself, otherwise, I would not have stuck around. It is also true that for the past half a year my interest in it waxes and wanes. Besides, I am well aware that certain groups of fans grow dissatisfied with the manhua direction. That said, I must state once again, OX has every right to write the story as they please, while the fans, no matter how displeased they may be, do not have the room to make demands of the author. So then, without further ado, some of my quibblings follow below. Beware of the wall-of-text.

1) The plot and characters get stagnant at times — these two go hand in hand. I suppose it is a prevalent gripe with 19 Days, and I am sure everyone has experienced it at least once. Some of it stems from the very way the story is told: the manhua timeline moves slowly in comparison with the readers' timeline. It works for depicting slow-burn relationships and subtle changes in the characters' outlooks. The problem is, more often than not, the latest chapters are inconsequential to either plot or character growth. They do not have the substance or the conflict to them. When OX had introduced the characters, while undoubtedly charming and loveable, they were practically walking tropes. Jian Yi, the bubbly airhead. ZZX, the stoic childhood friend. HT, Mr Popular. As time passed, OX did the clever (and the right) thing — they have subverted these stereotypes, by showing us that the characters are not who they appear to be. Thus, we learned that Jian Yi is a lonesome, affection deprived kid who on occasion dreads going back home because it's empty; his bright grin is there to hide his sadness. We also learned that HT had a dysfunctional family and had been exposed to violence since a tender age; we also learned that he used to lead an empty life devoid of close interpersonal connections and passions, etc. I am not going to write about Mo because it is obvious and self-explanatory.

That sudden change in the perspective is what made those characters fascinating. A few of these developments co-occur with the addition of the “darker” mafia/gangster subplot. Indeed, the introduction of the criminal legacy theme (which is true for Jian Yi, He Tian, and Mo to an extent) allowed to show the wounds and troubles these characters had to face. It also dangled the prospect of an intriguing plot direction — a mafia-related story that is disguised as a school-themed slice-of-life. It was the underlying gangster plot-line that hooked me up; I kept asking myself: Are they connected (the Jian family, the He family)? Were they responsible for what happened with the Mo family restaurant? Will their backgrounds converge at some point? How does Jia Yi's kidnapping fit into all this? That sort of stuff. Alas, right now that subplot seems to be put on a backburner, which is a shame because this is the plot-line that leads to future events, such as Jian Yi's disappearance. The kidnapping is still going to happen and the threat looming over Jian Yi is still real, yet OX does very little to explain anything about it. Naturally, revealing everything at once is out of the question, but if it were me, I would have opted for unveiling bits and pieces now and then. To start with, it would have propelled the plot forward. Apart from that, it would have given the readers some food for thought and kept the intrigue fresh — they would have been cracking their heads to piece the puzzle. Finally, the characters' darker backgrounds provide the opportunity to give them development. For instance, how would Mo's view of He Tian change, if he learned that the latter had to face his warped father to save Mo (ch. 245 and further on)? Or how would Mo react, if he learned that He Tian lost his mother (presumably) due to his family shady dealings? Would it make him understand the other boy, relate to him on some level? Etc.

The comedy and fun, light moments are precious, but I miss those moments when the manhua challenged my impression of the characters. Right now, the plot stagnates in the sense that we know that someone is threatening Jian Yi, but we aren't being given any clues or updates on the matter, as if the whole thing wasn't important. So, in response to your question “what would I have removed”, I would say that I would probably drop quite a few school-centric chapters in favour of “criminal” subplot. Just a bit: maybe show Mr Jian's messages, or Jian Yi's mother discussing the situation with him, or He Cheng receiving some reports on the situation.

The character recent portrayal also disappoints me on occasion. They started as stereotypical manga characters, then they were given some depth, and now they are close to becoming yet another set of stereotypes. Yeah, I get that Mo is a tsundere and enamoured He Tian is an idiot in love — OX has been depicting them as such for the past year. It would be cool to take a look at other facets of their personalities now and then too. While it’s understandable that only a few weeks have passed since the beginning of the story, OX should remember that years have passed for the readers; keeping the audience engaged should be among their priorities.

I suppose I do have a bias here because as an adult I have little interest in all things school-related, and in general, I am not too fond of slice-of-life (I typically avoid reading it).19 Days attracted me because it had some universal themes, like dealing with past and legacy, finding your path, healing from the old scars, learning to handle difficult relationships within a family, and of course its low-key “mafia” subplot. It could be that OX truly doesn't have a meticulously chapter-to-chapter thought-out plot, hence why the manhua meanders at times, or it could have something to do with Mosspaca's internal agenda. Perhaps, it is the latter and the company somehow insists its artists stick with simplistic plots for the sake of keeping their target audience. Even so, there's a catch here, which was brought to the attention by @agapaic: the original reader audience has aged up already so to keep them hooked it would be wise of OX to “mature up” the comic as well. Not in the sense of 18+ content, but in the sense of introducing more mature subjects alongside the comedy and slice of life. Perhaps, they are not looking to keep the fans but to attract the new, younger ones. Who knows.

2) Drama and comedy imbalance. It is a pet peeve of mine which I consider to be one of the prominent manhua flaws: there is lots of slapstick comedy which ends up being out of place on occasion. I do realize the comic is humorous, however, there is no denying that OX introduced themes and topics that are no laughing matters. Jian Yi's and He Tian's loneliness, bullying and ostracizing, extortion racket, absentee parents, youth gangs and violence — just to name a few. There is a lot more, but you get the picture.

It is also obvious that three out of four main characters carry the remnants of childhood trauma with them, which directly affects their present selves. All the same, these topics practically fizzle out as soon as they get introduced, or get swept under the rug with comedy. Considering the humorous nature of the comic, it is given that dispersing some grimmer topics with playfulness will be used now and then. To my mind, however, OX relies on that abrupt drama-to-comedy switch too heavily, which makes the transition steep and often out of place. At times, it creates an impression that the author does not take these issues seriously. There have been numerous episodes when emotional moments were subverted and then dropped, without gaining climax and closure. For instance, the moment that sticks out to me the most is when He Tian attempted to tell Mo why he liked him. The visuals made it clear that it wasn't easy for He Tian to say out loud, yet OX never gave the intense moment the needed closure.

Mo brushed He Tian off and the latter just rolled with it, as if it never took him any courage to say those words, and then everything was swiftly engulfed by slapstick humour (the ball-slapping scene). A panel showing a glimpse of He Tian's face sinking to indicate he was somewhat let down by Mo's nonchalant response would have been appropriate — in fact, it would be natural for someone to get hurt when their confession is taken lightly. Likewise, I half-expected OX to show a bit more of He Tian's reaction towards Mo's story about his meeting with She Li. We got to see his expression darkening when he learned that She Li gave Mo the ear piercings, yet this time — mind you, when Mo suggested that She Li might have murdered someone — we never see He Tian react much. For the record, it was He Tian who asked She Li a rhetorical question about being able to take responsibility for taking a life.

Furthermore, I believe that someone romantically invested in another human being would have naturally shown more inquisitiveness upon hearing a story like that. Sure enough, some would say that Mo would not have liked talking about a traumatizing event, and that is fine as well — just show it. A single panel of He Tian being concerned and trying to inquire further and Mo refusing to talk would have been a very neat detail that could have potentially smoothed the transition into humour, while keeping our heroes in character.

3) Sometimes there is too much focus on the couples. The manhua has introduced several reoccurring supporting characters which are directly linked to our main quartet. For example, Mo had bonds before meeting our boys: his henchmen, the Buzzcut. Likewise, He Cheng was the one to raise He Tian; he shaped the boy's outlook on life. These characters all played important roles in making our boys the people they are today, and yet we know so little of their bonds. Maybe the Buzzcut is unimportant in the larger scheme of things, He Cheng, however, is not only linked to He Tian, but he also plays a part in the underlying mafia/gangster subplot. It would have made sense if he was the one to shed some light on the situation with Jian Yi and He Tian's traumatic past. I would have loved to see our boys interact with other people as well — it would have served to show the variety of relationships out there: friendships, familial bonds, mutual respect between the leader and underlings, etc.

Anyway, I am going to stop now. I could name a few more, but this text is already more than 2000 words long. I have made some posts with my nitpicking before, so if you wish you can read them here.

link & link

Once again, this is all entirely subjective and it is not meant to be perceived as me saying that the manhua is poorly written and no one should enjoy it. Writing and creating compelling plots is a tough job, especially when it comes to long pieces. It also goes without saying that the author should keep their target audience and marketing goals in mind. 19 Days appeals to a great number of people of all ages and that means that OX succeeded in creating something compelling. Their writing is indeed flawed at times, but there is no way around it. It is impossible to excel both at being a great artist and a good writer. While there may be things that each of us would want to change (when comes to characters or the plot), it is still important to remember that it is not our creation. We can only decide whether to keep reading and enjoy what we get or move along. There is no point in attacking the author or generating constant pessimism.

#19 days #long post #that...was a tiresome writing #Anonymous #q&a time

93 notes · View notes

thiswasinevitableid · 4 years

Note

For a fic prompt! How about Duck and Indrid are childhood best friends who are college roommates. Indrid has been in love with Duck for years, but when Duck starts dating Minerva it throws Indrid into a deep depression. Ideally Duck and Indrid do get together in the end (though hopefully Duck and Minerva’s breakup isn’t nasty) and you can get as angsty as you’d like! Honestly the angstier the better is my motto! Also I’m all for Indrid still having future sight, if you’d like! Thank you SO MUCH!

Here you go!

Quick content note: it contains trans Duck, including a scene where Indrid takes his side when he comes out in PE and, it’s implied, that coming out is not well recieved.

Indrid Cold lays face down on his bed. His phone is shoved under the black cotton of his pillow case, and he’s drawn the windows shut against the warm August air.

This is a misery of his own making, he knows this. He can’t decide if the fact that it’s a misery nearly two decades in the making is impressive or pathetic.

To understand the origins of it, one has to rewind the tape of his life back quite a ways.

——————————————————-

Duck Newton is six years old and hunting for miners lettuce in his backyard, when he feels like he’s being watched.

Looking up, he finds a face framed with shaggy dark hair, glasses perched on a pointy nose, peeking over the fence at him. As soon as the face sees him, it ducks back down.

Weird.

He goes back to foraging, only to find the face watching him again a minute later. This time, when it disappears, he clambers up the oak tree alongside the fence and scoots carefully out onto a limb that sticks out into the neighboring yard. The face, which belongs to a boy about his age, is staring up at him, as if he expected Duck to appear. He’s standing on the edge of the decorative fountain the old neighbors put in the yard.

“Why’re you watchin me?”

“I wanted to know what you were doing.”

“How come?”

“I’m bored. My dads are putting the house together and I don’t want to draw anymore.” He points to a stack of pictures, next to some crayons that are melting in the sun.

Duck thinks; he hasn’t had anyone to play with since school got out. Leo, who lives down the block, is nine, so not as interested in having Duck trailing after him like a little brother as he used to be.

“…You wanna go see a huge crawdad?”

The other boy perks up, “I have no idea what that is. But yes.”

“C’mon, meet me in the front yard. What’s your name?”

“Indrid.”

“That’s a weird name.”

“What’s yours?” Indrid crosses his arms, eyebrow raised

“Duck.”

Indrid stares at him, wide mouth curling up at one side. His stare is a bit unnerving, and Duck feels the need to explain himself.

“It’s a nickname.”

————————————————————

“I think that’s the same large one from last year.” Indrid peers over his sketchpad, staring down at a crawdad scuttling through the clear creek.

“Told you we shoulda put a colored tape on them or somethin so we could keep track.” Duck looks at the crustacean, and then back at the project he’s working on.

They’re nine years old, hazy and sleepy in the summer afternoon. This part of the creek is shaded, keeps them hidden from passersby and parents alike (they’ve learned to tell at least one parent where they’re going, after Greg, one of Indrid’s dad’s, panicked looking for them).

“What are you making?” Indrid wiggles next to him in the grass, gnawing his pencil as Duck shows him.

“S’a reed raft. I’m gonna see how far I can float it down the river.”

“I will draw a flag for it.” Indrid scribbles, and Duck grins at him. He continues, “I’m glad you’re back. I hate when you got to your uncle’s during the summer. I have no one to talk to.”

“You could talk to Dani.”

“She’s busy a lot.”

Duck looks a little guilty, “Did you get the postcards?”

“Uh huh.” Indrid nods, smiling at his friend to show there’s no harm done. He knows it’s not up to Duck where he goes. The postcards are pinned to his wall, along with his own drawings, some horror movie posters, and the postcards from the last two summers.

“Oh, look at what I found while we were at the lake.” Duck reaches into his pocket, pulling out a smooth, wiggly-striped stone, “Uncle Jeff says it’s agate.”

He holds it out and Indrid takes it, runs his fingers along the smooth, cool surface. It feels lovely. And it reminds him of what he likes most about being Duck’s friend; Duck can make anything, even a rock, seem interesting and special.

Indrid is reminded of another reason he is lucky to have Duck the next morning.

All the adults are down in the living room, talking worriedly. There’s been a car crash on the nearby highway, and one of the trucks was carrying something toxic. The school is closed, and everyone has been told to stay home because the air could be unsafe.

Indrid is under all his blankets, his sketchbook thrown to the other side of the room.

“‘Drid?” The door creaks as Duck enters the bedroom.

He wants to beg him to hide under the covers with him. He wants to tell him to go away.

He sniffs, wipes his nose on his arm, and hears Duck turn towards the bed. The covers slowly lift, and Indrid blinks blearily, tearily up at him.

“Have you been cryin?” Duck looks worried.

He nods.

“Did you know someone who got hurt?”

“No. I, I saw it happen. In my head. Over and over last night. I thought I was imagining it. But then it happened. Th-that happens a lot, ever since my birthday. It’s like, like I see things and then sometimes they happen and sometimes they don’t. I draw them but, but I’m afraid if my dad’s find out they’ll, they’ll think I’m wrong, somethings wrong with me.”

As he’s talking, Duck sits down next to him, rests his arm around his shoulders.

“Nothin’s wrong with you ‘Drid. This is weird, but it don’t make you bad. You should tell you dads. They’re nice, they’ll help you.” He squeezes Indrid’s arm, smiling at him as he rests his head on his shoulder, “I’ll help you too.” He slips the agate from his pocket and into Indrid’s hands, moves their fingers over it in tandem until the motion soothes Indrid’s breathing down, then tucks it into Indrid’s pocket.

————————————————————————————–

“You okay ‘Drid?” Duck plops down on a cafeteria bench Kepler Middle School, Indrid poking glumly at his fruit salad.

“We had oral presentations today. I did mine on my moth.” He taps the jar in front of him. A week or so ago it had contained a caterpillar that he and Duck had identified as belonging to a Banded Tiger Moth. Indrid had decided to raise it into adulthood, Duck helping him figure out which weeds to feed it before it went into its cocoon. When it emerges, he and Duck have the perfect spot picked to release it.

“What’s wrong with your moth?”

“Nice glasses, mothman!” A voice yells, two boys high-fiving when Indrid shrinks in on himself.

“Hey, fuck you, mothman rules!” Duck thanks his lucky stars none of the cafeteria monitors heard him. He recognizes those two; they’re in Indrid’s CORE class with him, meaning the nickname has already spread. Indrid, with his tics and his tendency to finish people’s sentences, his glasses and scraggly appearance, has been pegged as a target for months. It makes Duck’s blood boil to see them turn something Indrid spent time looking after into an insult.

That night, he grabs a sharpie and one of his grey t-shirts.

The next day, he turns up with “Mothman Rules” scrawled on his chest. Indrid’s smile is worth the lecture he gets about messing up his clothes.

———————————————————–

Indrid and Duck sit side by side in the principals office. Their gym clothes in Kepler Middle’s colors, grey and maroon, seem even grimmer right now.

They haven’t done anything wrong, not as far as Indrid is concerned.

Duck stood in the boys line-up during P.E, that’s all. When he refused to move to the girls line, the teacher told the rest of the boys to line up all over again, elsewhere. They all moved, except Indrid, who insisted that Duck was in the right line and refused to play along with a bid to deny that.

They have been sent to the principal for “causing trouble.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” Duck murmurs.

“I did. You’re my friend, Duck. And Mr. H is an asshole.”

He thinks, but does not say, that it would take far more than a gym teacher and the threat of detention to leave Duck’s side when he’s in trouble.

———————————————————

It’s Indrid’s 16th birthday, and his dads are throwing a very subdued sweet sixteen. He dyed his hair silver, and they’ve ordered an entire table of desserts from a local bakery, and he, Duck, Juno, Dani, and Barclay have stuffed themselves while watching movies and teasing Dani for being ga-ga over her long-distance girlfriend, Aubrey, who she met playing an online tabletop games.

Once the other three leave, Duck grabs Indrid’s jacket and hands it to him.

“C’mon, lets go to the creek. Got somethin to show you.”

Indrid follows him, teasing him as they turn down the creekbed, “We’re not going to have a repeat of the beer incident are we?”

Duck laughs, “No. Learned better than to give that hummingbird palate of yours booze.”

They hit the familiar dirt of their favorite spot, and Duck gets on tiptoe and reaches into the trees above them. Strings of lights, red to match Indrid’s new glasses, and white, snap on. Below them is a blanket, and Indrid sits down with a perplexed smile. Then he checks the futures, and understands.

“Is this entirely sanitary?”

“Enough.” Duck grins, pulling out a lighter and safety pin, “I did it on mine and I still got the ear.”

“Very well.” Indrid crosses his legs, checks the futures it be double sure this won’t end in infection, and braces himself, “left ear please.”

“Right. Okay, one, two-”

“OWowowowow.”

“Done!”

“Ow.” Indrid winces as Duck cleans the newly-pierced ear, loosens his grip on the agate in his fist.

“Can’t believe you still carry that thing around.”

“I find it soothing. Ooh, how nice.” Indrid picks up the black moth-shaped earring Duck hands him.

“Figured it’d be better to start with a smaller one. And now that you’re all done, you can officially burn your list.”

Indrid pulls a worn sheet of binder paper from his pocket. When he, and then Duck, turned fifteen, they wrote out lists of things they wanted to do before they hit sixteen. He crosses out get ear pierced, then mutters, “I’m still missing one.”

Duck looks at him quizzically. He turns the paper around and points to first kiss.

“Wait, I thought you and Carlos-”

“Nope. Never got that far before we broke up.”

Duck sits next to him, gets a mischievous grin on his face, “Think I know how to help.”

“How’s tha-”

It’s barely a kiss, Duck bringing their lips together just long enough for Indrid to feel him sigh happily. Then he pulls back, still grinning.

Indrid is certain that if he looked down at himself, his veins would be pulsing technicolor, his body lit up like the cheap neon in their tiny downtown.

“Ta-dah, list complete.” Duck whispers.

“Thank you.” Indrid whispers back.

He doesn’t think much of it for the rest of the night, figures it’s just a meeting of Duck’s goofier side with his desire to help a friend.

It’s only when he’s laying in bed, playing the kiss over and over again like a favorite song, that he realizes he might be in trouble.

————————————————————-

Indrid knows the likely outcome, but that doesn’t stop him from leaping up excitedly when Duck bangs the front door open.

“‘Drid, I got in! did you, oh, hey Mr. Cold, did you?”

“Yes.” Indrid grins from the bottom of the staircase.

“Oh hell yeah! Juno got in too! Maybe we can all be roommates.”

As much as Indrid would like that outcome, the arbitrary housing system of UWV Huntington has other ideas. Duck ends up partnered with an affable if often absent psych major, Juno gets a single in the same dorm, just two floors down, and Indrid is stuck with a frat-boy business major.

That doesn’t stop them from making the most of their first year of college. Indrid crashes on Duck’s floor some nights, and the two of them manage to swing having a film class together during spring semester. They each dip their toes into the wild sea that is college dating, with mixed results, trading advice and anecdotes in the dark of Duck’s room.

And none of that, not one single bit, does anything to dampen Indrid’s romantic feelings for his friend.

It’s not that he doesn’t try, just as he’s been trying every day since his 16th birthday. He loves Duck as a friend, wants to be in his life forever. He can’t afford to love him any other way. It’s too risky. And so he tries, over and over and over, to quash those feelings. Sometimes they ebb, sometimes Indrid happily dates or hooks up with other people.

But they always come back, like a faithful hound finding it’s way home.

Because Duck will laugh in that ridiculous way of his, be vulnerable with Indrid in those private moments, make Indrid feel understood in a way no one else can. And he falls in love all over again.

(And that’s before he even gets to the moments where Duck will strip his shirt off on hot days, or wander into the room in his boxer shorts, and Indrid feels the urge to plead with him for the privilege of feeling him up).

It’s because of all this that, when Duck asks if Indrid wants to move in together their sophomore year, he almost says no.

But then he and Duck are sharing celebratory take-out in a half-unpacked apartment and he’s happier than he ever thought he could be.

It’s not perfect by any means. Indrid can be messy, Duck can be terse, money can be tight. But Indrid is so at home with Duck, all that fades into the background. They have friends over, compare notes on dates, have junk food strewn study sessions on the couch, keep each other company during all nighters.

Then, in May of their Sophomore year, things change.

“‘Drid? Oh good, you’re still up. Um, I wanted to tell you somethin. Minerva and I are goin out.”

“Oh. That’s a bit unexpected.” Indrid sets his drawing aside.

“You tellin me you don’t use that magic-eight ball brain to spy on my love life?” Duck teases, plopping down onto the bed with him.

“Never. So…why the switch from work-out buddies to this?”

“Dunno, just seemed like we’d been spendin a lot of time together. She actually tutored me back in high school, remember, so it’s kinda fun to be around someone who’s known me that long. Y'know, someone who watched me grow up.”

“I see.” Indrid kicks his jealousy until it goes limp and sinks back under the surface of his feelings, “well, that’s awesome then. I’m glad you’re excited Duck.”

And he is. It’s not a lie, goodness knows he’s well aware he has no claim to Duck’s affection or time. And Minerva does seem to make him happy, encourages Duck’s good habits like going to the gym (something Indrid has tried once and will never do again. Yoga and walking are fine by him).

But soon he cannot go anywhere with Duck, including his own apartment, without Minerva there. Duck spends all of his time with her, and Indrid learns it’s not just him; while Minerva is gladly included in their group get-togethers, Juno hasn’t seen Duck in weeks. And has barely heard from him. She is also a bit loud and Indrid, who has always had trouble with over-stimulation from noise, finds himself out of the apartment more and more often.

Indrid can’t blame Duck for spending time with Minerva rather than him; she’s jockular, active, attractive (even if she does call Duck by his first name). Indrid is odd, reclusive, and well, weird looking.

It all goes to hell at the end of August.

“‘Drid! The study abroad program offered me a scholarship. I get to go to Brazil. This is so fuckin cool!”

“Wonderful!” Indrid claps his hands, “I know how badly you’ve wanted to go. You have to promise me to send me pictures of brightly colored bugs for art inspiration. Oh, and now we can tell Dani she has somewhere to stay while she and Aubrey look for a shared place.”

“Exactly. And guess what, it gets even better.”

“How-” he sees the answer coming, tries to keep his face neutral.

“Minerva’s comin with me!”

“I wasn’t aware wildlife conservation and management was her area of interest.”

“It ain’t, but she’s comin as part of a grad study program. It’s gonna be so fuckin amazin.”

“I’m sure it will be.” The pull between his true feelings and his need to seem supportive renders his answer flat.

“What’s up?” Duck sits down in the kitchen chair opposite him.

“Nothing. Or, well, I suppose I’ve just now realized that I’ll be without a good friend for a semester. I’ll miss you.”

“Aw, I’ll miss you too, you big sap. Don’t worry, I’ll write you a bunch, send pictures too when I can.”

Indrid looks at the futures, then down at the table, “No, you won’t.”

“Huh? Why wouldn’t I?” Duck looks hurt.

“In all the timelines, you send me one postcard at maximum. In most of them, you send none. I slip your mind entirely, it seems.” His voice is tight.

“The fuck? How is that pos-”

“Any time not spent in the field, you are too engrossed by her to do anything else.”

Duck’s face hardens, “So that’s what this is really about.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” He lies.

“You’ve been bothered by her since the start! You don’t think I notice that forced smile you get when she’s around, or the fact you leave the house when she comes over?”

“I get overstimulated when there is too much noise, you know that.” Indrid snaps back.

“You hardly come out with us anymore, and you make it sound like she’s controlin me or some shit.”

“I, I do not. I just don’t enjoy when she barges in randomly.” He rubs his temples with his hands, trying to keep calm.

“Christ, you really makin me choose between my best friend and the first girlfriend who’s made me feel this way? Why the fuck can’t you just be happy for me?”

“Because it should be me and not her!” Indrid spits out, hands dropping to the table and gaze meeting Duck’s own.

Duck blinks back at him, “Really? Really? You had a million goddamn chances to confess how you feel and you choose now?”

“I, I didn’t, I tried so hard to ignore it, but, fuck, I didn’t mean to say it now but since I did: I’ve been in love with you for years. And, and I just, after everything, we’ve been so close-”

“What, you think that what, because we’ve been friends since we were kids and you been pinin after me for however the fuck long, I should just date you? Like it’s destiny or some shit? What the fuck man?” He stands and Indrid mirrors him.

“Do not put words in my mouth. I never wanted to interfere in your life, I never, you can’t possibly know how I feel!”

“Oh yeah? You think I’m really that fuckin oblivious? I suspected you felt some kind of way about me, and I gave you chances to show me I was right!”

“Name one.” Indrid growls, stepping closer.

“Homecomin, my eighteenth birthday, about a dozen times last year where I asked if you had your eye on anyone and you’d change the goddamn subject,” Duck counts out on his fingers, closing the remaining distance, “hell, coulda used those weird powers of yours to see what would happen if you told me.”

“I was too scared to. And if you were so observant, and apparently not opposed to the idea, why didn’t you make a move on me?”

“What do you think me kissin you on your birthday was?”

“A joke! Goodness, Duck, you know I’m not great with social cues. I didn’t think you’d ever care about me that way.”

“You think I’m that fuckin shallow?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” He growls.

“So what was your end-game, huh? Just wait out everyone else, circle me like a fuckin vulture until I’d settle for you? Fuck, Minerva was right, you are creepy.”

Duck may as well have punched him. He sort of wishes he had.

“Fuck. you. Wayne.” He hisses out, stepping around him and towards his room.

“Nah, fuck you, Indrid. Fuck you for makin me think you actually cared about me when all you were doin was bidin your goddamn time!”

“That’s not, no, nevermind. I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

Duck tosses back, “That’s as good as a confession in my book, you creepy, mothman lookin motherfucker,” and Indrid slams the door.

There’s ten minutes of hurried, angry movement in the rest of the apartment, and then the front door bangs shut.

He cycles through anger (at himself, at Duck, at these obnoxious powers for not helping him prevent the fight), hurt, and numb acceptance that he has blown his oldest, closest friendship to smithereens.

When he finally calms down enough to think clearly he realizes that, if nothing else, he doesn’t want that to be the last conversation they have before Duck leaves.

He faceplants onto his bed, pulls out his phone, and types.

Indrid: I’m sorry for losing my temper, and for not telling you the truth sooner. Even though it would have been helpful if you’d been clearer in the past. Can we talk about this tomorrow, and try again?

The answer is immediate.

Duck: Staying with M until we leave. Don’t text me again unless the apartment is on fire.

He stares at the response, then slides the phone under his pillow, presses his face to the mattress, and lays there numbly until he falls asleep.

——————————————————

“Nope, you are not having a sad hook-up on my watch.” Barclay’s tone freezes Indrid in place, and he slumps back down into the booth at the bar.

Barclay is only a year ahead of him, but at times he reminds Indrid of a mother hen. A very, very large mother hen.

“I cannot believe I allowed you to drag me out on Homecoming weekend.”

“Indrid, you’ve been miserable for almost two months, and I’m honestly really worried about you. Plus, this place has super cheap, real good appetizers.”

“Thank you for not saying ‘apps.’’ Indrid sips his soda.

“That word is an abomination. And you’re avoiding the actual topic.”

“I destroyed my best friend’s trust in me, and am wallowing here while he cavorts in the rainforest with his girlfriend. I’ll survive, but there’s no rule that says I have to enjoy it.”

Barclay sighs, “Look, if I give you permission to be miserable while you do it, will you come to trivia night with me, Joe, and Jake? Dani’s usually out fourth, but she’s helping Aubrey get her magic show up and ready to open.”

Indrid blows a strand of hair from his face (the black patches are getting worse, he needs to dye it again), “I can mope as much as I want?”

“You can cry into your beer for all I care, as long as you let me buy it.”

Trivia night turns out to be much better than anticipated, though Joe, Barclay’s boyfriend, is terrifying to behold in a battle of information.

Movie goes better, game night even better still, and soon Indrid is hanging out with the others more days than not. He even helps Aubrey design and draw up some last minute posters for her show.

It’s the morning after opening night (and the following celebration) that his phone alerts him to a new email. The subject simply says “Bug.”

It’s from Duck.

All it contains is a photo, clearly taken at night on a phone, of a moth with bright pink wings and red eyespots.

He types, Neat! Then, after a moment, adds What species?

He doesn’t expect a response. But the next day, another email awaits him.

Dr. Graslie (Entomologist here) thinks it’s Leucanella apollinairei. Here’s someone more familiar

This picture is of a small crustacean. Indrid smiles; it’s a crawdad.

He replies Careful, maybe it followed you all the way from Kepler. Seen anything else interesting?

This time he waits two days for a response, but it opens with, sorry, internet is real spotty. Big shock, I know.

This is followed by two paragraphs describing trees. Indrid has never been so happy to hear about root systems.

Soon Duck is emailing him whenever he can. At first, it’s only about the wildlife, the field work he’s doing, and the terror of trying to practice hygiene in the middle of a rainforest. Slowly, other details appear; the things he’s homesick for, the ways in which he and Minerva are starting to grate at each other (you’d think being in the middle of nowhere’d get you some peace and quiet. Nope).

Indrid responds with updates from school, pictures of the outings he and the others go on, news about the promo art several places in town have hired him to do after seeing the posters for Aubrey’s act. Says he hopes Minerva and Duck are able to work things out.

Winter break comes sooner than seems possible, and he assumes the next time he sees Duck will be when they’re home visiting their folks.

Which is why, when he’s sitting at home reading after his last final, the door opening alarms him (Dani has already moved out). That is, until he glimpses the future.

“Duck?” He calls softly.

His friend appears in the doorway, luggage left behind him in the entryway.

“Hey, ‘Drid.”

“I, ah, assumed you’d be staying with Minerva until you could officially move out.”

Duck shakes his head, “I ain’t movin anywhere. Unless you want me to.”

“No.” Indrid fidgets with the agate, tucked safely in the pocket of his sweatpants.

“We, uh, we broke up. Minerva and me. It was, uh, mutual, though she was the one to pull the trigger, so to speak. Just found there were some things we didn’t agree on. Weren’t compatible on neither.”

“I’m sorry.”

Duck snorts what’s almost a laugh.

“I mean it.” He stands, voices earnest and gentle, “I know you were happy with her, and the relationship meant a lot to you.”

“Yeah” Duck sounds tired, “It did. But it turns out another one meant more.”

Indrid stops moving. Also, possibly, breathing.

“I…well, I sent you that first email instead of apologizin because I was still kinda hurt, but I realized I missed you. I didn’t want you gone from my life. And the longer I was gone, the more times I turned around wanting to tell you somethin and was sad you weren’t there, got excited at the thought of showin you somethin or sending you pictures, I realized I did plenty to fuck things up. And that’s before we get to the fact I was dreamin about you most nights.”

Duck steps awkwardly forward, until they’re toe to toe, “I missed you, ‘Drid. So fuckin much. And I’m sorry for the things I said durin the fight.”

“As am I. I ought to have thought how my confession would appear to you. I’m sorry I did not.”

“I guess, what I’m tryin to say is I feel like a real dipshit for havin to go halfway across the globe to realize what I really want.”

“And what do you want, Duck?”

Duck cups his cheeks, and then Indrid is tipping forward, into a kiss he’s dreamed of for years. His arms close around Duck’s shoulders, his lips taste chapstick and cold night air. He pulls away to breathe and gets only an instant to do so, Duck chasing his mouth for kiss after kiss, his eagerness sending them tripping onto the bed.

Indrid lands on top of Duck, hears him whimper when his name leaves Indrid’s lips.

“‘Drid, ‘Drid, please-”

“Yes” He kisses his cheek, “whatever it is, the answer is yes.”

Duck giggles into his neck, “You got no idea how bad I wanna make a goof on that. But, fuck, ‘Drid, I can’t, all I want is you.”

“Likewise.” He purrs, hooking Ducks leg around his own, nuzzling up his neck before attacking his lips with kisses.

“That, that a rock in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?” Duck tugs on his lower lip.

“Both. See?” He produces the agate, holds it where Duck can get a look at it.

“Holy shit, is that the one I gave you a million years ago?”

“Indeed. It became a sort of grounding object, because it was pleasant to touch and reminded me of you. Later it morphed into a sort of good luck charm.”

Duck closes Indrid’s fist around the rock and kisses it, grins, “There, now it’s twice as lucky.”

Indrid holds him close, basks in the love radiating from him as he murmurs, “It’s not the luckiest thing in the room, though. That honor, I believe, belongs to you and I.”

#Indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #reader request #college au #duck x indrid

38 notes · View notes

randomnotesofmyown · 4 years

Text

Urasawa’s Monster (47-48)

Episode 47 - door to nightmares (Or, I was here?)

Nina hastily walked past people who greeted her by her other name despite she wasn't there before. She ran. Until a call from Dieter stopped her. Nina told Dieter that the people in the area knew her somehow.

Grimmer and Temma arrived at a hospital where they thought Suk would be, but were told that no patient by the name they mentioned or with gun shot wounds was admitted.

The two walked away, discussing the contents of the research documents and the tape concerning kinderheim 511.

Hearing Grimmer said that a child's voice was recorded on that tape saying his name was Johan, Temma asked where that tape now was. And a man in business suit stood next to a car stopped in front of them.

Looked like the one reading a paper at the alfresco café in episode 45.

The man insisted Grimmer and Temma took a ride with them. The car stopped at a restaurant, the two entered and saw Colonel Ranke.

Ranke proposed a deal: the tape and the document in exchange for Suk. Grimmer said he didn't know where those were. Ranke dismissed that as nonsense.

Moments of silence later, Grimmer said something like that must not be repeated...

"who knows what could happen?"

Ranke brushed that comment aside and expressed the desire that they focused on the business.

Then Grimmer mentioned he was from kinderheim 511. Ranke, startled, asked Grimmer his age, and if he recognized the person in the photo.

The boy in the photo was Ranke's nephew. He was orphaned when his parents were shot to death when they tried to flee the former GDR.

Ranke said he signed the document authorizing the admission of his nephew in that orphanage, with a clear display of guilt.

Then, resumed his business-talk-only manner, Ranke mentioned the deal again and was met with silence. He then said he understood and the two were okay to go, he would expect a positive answer from them.

Grimmer was about the get into the car when he saw a butterfly, then something came to his mind, "cocoa".

Grimmer went back in the restaurant and told Ranke that when he got sick in that place, he was given some weekly-rationed cocoa by someone who loved those a lot.

Grimmer wanted to do something for that person and was asked to memorize him.

That person loved cocoa, loved drawing and insects and he dreamed of becoming an entomologist. His name...

Nina was recalling suppressed memories of her childhood self welcoming someone home, a broken glass of red wine, inside a car, a man, herself running a dark corridor, roses, another man, the nameless monster, a third man raised a toast, the three frogs, and different people saying the phrase "welcome back".

Nina told Dieter she remembered the area, and she felt scared.

Cut to Grimmer and Temma, Ranke appeared when they had breakfast and inquired their decision on the deal. Grimmer counter-proposed that he would let Ranke listen to the tape.

Temma butted in, saying people were killed because of that tape, and the person who wanted to get a hold of it the most was Johan. And Ranke must have been told about the content of that tape by his German friend.

"The real identity of the monster," replied Ranke.

And then Temma decided to disclose all the events following his surgery on Johan ten years ago.

Nina walking up the stairs and remembered some more fragments of the day when her brother got dragged away.

When asked about the aduction at the three frogs 15 years ago, Ranke said some information was out of his reach and a certain individual had considerable liberty to take action without reporting to his superiors.

That person was known as Franz Bonaparte, and he authored a picture book using a pen name, the monster without a name.

Nina had more flashbacks, and she got confused.

End of episode 47

Episode 48 - The scariest thing (Or, a man who did know how to rest)

A blonde girl asked to see Suk's mother. She entered room 409, and started a conversation with the bedridden old woman with cognitive disorder. She told woman to talk about any stories she would like to share.

Suk's mother recounted happy memories, and she said it was thanks to the blonde girl. And the blonde girl replied by addressing herself with a male first person pronoun, "俺(オレ)", before switching back to using わたし and said...

"The tape."

Johan.

Grimmer and Temma on their way to retrieve the tape. Inside the hospital, them were told that a blonde girl visited Mrs. Suk. Startled, they ran to that room, and found a Mrs. Suk cured of the disorder...

The tape was still in the player.

Ranke entered when the old woman asked to see her son and said he would take her there.

Mother and son met, and Mrs. Suk held Jan's hand and voiced the wish to god that she would be forget him.

They played the tape, and at the point where the boy retold the story of the nameless monster(https://randomnotesofmyowns.tumblr.com/post/631604575814795264/urasawas-monster-37-38), Ranke paused the tape, he couldn't bear listening to what came after.

But Grimmer said they should listen the whole recording.

So they resumed playing the tape, and what the child Johan felt most afraid of was that he would forget Anna, his memories were disappearing because of all those experiments done on him day after day.

Beyond that was a recorded message from the grown-up Johan.

"I finally understand where I need to go, Dr. Temma."

Cut to the BKA office, for the first time in who knew how long, inspector Lunge took a long vacation and his colleagues joked he might not know how to take a break even though he headed to a foreign country. And the destination was Prague.

Lunge ordered a beer. When it was served, he asked about its brand, then his hand started typing. And he stopped that motion in mid way and drank the beer.

Lunge showed at the Prague Police station and had a chat with the police chief, Nepela.

After some small talks, Nepela said he would like to ask Lunge for his opinions on the current cases that happened after Zeman was found dead with two former secret police agents.

Lunge's hand was typing as Nepela spoke.

Nepela mentioned poisonous candies, and Lunge, remained quiet, narrowed his eyes.

Nepela proceeded to ask Lunge where would he be if he were Suk. Lunge replied that he was on a vacation and reached for a copy of the picture book about the nameless monster and asked if help could be provided for translating it into German.

Lunge met with Suk's friends, both vowed to do anything to help prove his innocence. They mentioned Anna Liebert and Lunge's eyes narrowed, his hands typing again.

Next day, Lunge went to a publishing house searching for Emil Sebe's book. He asked if Emil Sebe was a pen name, the staffer said it probably was, and he mentioned a few more, Bonaparte, Jakov Vyrobek, Klaus Poppa and...

Lunge cut in, saying he found books by Klaus Poppa and he wanted to open the box. And he started going through the manuscripts.

On the phone talking with Nepela, Lunge was told that the translation of the book was done. Lunge thanked Nepela for that and then he asked Nepela to read him the last page of that book.

"Even though he now had a name, there was no one left to call him by his name: Johan. It is a wonderful name. "

Nepela read those lines and commented the book was peculiar. He then asked how long Lunge would be on vacation.

"It'd be a long one"

End of episode 48

Comment: Finished watching these two episodes, I am left with questions. What was recorded on the tape that Johan erased? Any chance Mrs Suk still had memories of the original content? His message to Temma was simply that he figured out where he needed to go next. What would that place be? Why would he assume Temma knew as well? And what did he do or say to cure Mrs Suk of cognitive disorder or amnesia?

And, when Johan was a child, there was one memory he wanted to keep, Anna, But 15 years after his admission to that orphanage, he wanted to erase all traces of himself. Because he came to consider himself worthless?

Come to think of episode 48 again, there were something I didn't notice an hour ago, including something uncharacteristic of Johan.

He spent the time to listen to the tape right at the hospital instead of taking it away; he didn't kill Mrs. Suk, who likely had listened to the whole recording on that tape and knew about his past. And he chose to let Temma knew that Anna meant a lot to him when he was a child, and she still remained significant for him after all those years and the memory of Anna had been and still was what he wanted to retain.

These choices aside, the slip of tongue, that facial expression when he knew he found the tape should all convey something about Johan.

Then, about Lunge, he seemed to have changed his perception of Temma. He was no longer as certain that Temma was responsible for the serial murder cases as he once was. What caused this change, he was still sure of this in the episode about the fire in Munich University library. What caused this change?

Looks like I have missed the clues and the answers to these questions would probably remain beyond me.

#monster #urasawa naoki

2 notes · View notes

littlemsstark3000 · 4 years

Note

After a while conflicted and jealous Pepper gives Tony and Nat her blessing after she saw them in different situations loving and taking care of each other

Sorry, this one took a looong while.

*****

Timeline: Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron

“Nat! Natasha!”

Pepper turned from reading a book to Tony who suddenly stirred and screamed beside her on the bed.

“Tony,” she started shaking his arm. “Hey, wake up…”

His eyes opened then looked at her; his breathing was heavy.

She lightly wiped her hand over on his forehead then brushed his hair with her fingers. She noticed that he was also sweating cold. “Calm down, it was just a nightmare. You’re okay,” she tried to pacify him.

Her boyfriend sat up, both arms almost hugging his knees to his chest.

“What is it?” she closed the book and placed it on the bedside table, focusing her attention to him.

Tony’s eyes were now staring forward blankly. “I saw them. Dead.”

“Who?”

“The team… They’re all dead, because of me…” he dropped his head to his knees, hiding his face from her. “I couldn’t do anything about it.”

“Hey, no, your team’s fine.” Pepper ran her hand on his back, rubbing gently. “It was just a dream.”

It took a while before he looked up to her again.

“I… I’m sorry, Pep. You should go back to sleep.”

She did not say anymore that she hasn’t slept yet; it was one of the rare nights that he went to bed ahead of her.

“You should, too.”

Tony sighed and forced a smile. “I’ll stay up for a while.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” He kissed her forehead. “Thanks.”

She curled up on her side of the bed, but could not sleep too, even when she felt Tony lied down beside her. After almost half an hour, she felt him got up again. She peeked to see where he was heading, thinking that he might go back to the workshop and spend the night there again with his projects.

He did not though. Instead, he just walked to the glass door overlooking the city with his phone on hand. A few minutes later, he was already on the phone talking with the woman whose name he was screaming earlier in his sleep.

“Nat? Hey… Hi. I was just checking if…”

Pepper barely heard anything more as he walked out of the room to the balcony. She opted to think that Tony would check up with the rest of the team, too.

>>>>>

“JARVIS, where's Tony?” Pepper inquired from Tony’s virtual butler as she entered his penthouse, coming from SI.

“Sir is on the way to the kitchen from the workshop. He is with Ms. Romanoff.” Jarvis promptly responded.

Her eyebrows furrowed. She was not informed that he accepted a work-related meeting at home or that he was seeing the woman this day. “Natasha is here?”

“Yes, Ms. Potts. Ms. Romanoff was called by Sir to come over and she arrived approximately 30 minutes ago.”

She proceeded to their area as informed by JARVIS and before she could get to the kitchen, she stopped as she overheard the on-going conversation.

“It's my second update in three months. You spoil me.”

Pepper recognized Natasha’s voice.

“One step ahead of the rest, so please don't brag yet.” Tony replied. It sounded like he was moving around, preparing food or something.

“Seriously... thanks, Tony.”

“No biggie. Coffee? If you aren't in a hurry.”

“I can stay for a cup.”

“Again, you're getting ahead of everyone else. Nobody in the team has tasted this special brew by yours truly.”

Pepper could almost hear smile from her boyfriend’s tone.

“You flatter me so much for a day.”

“Why not? You're my favourite Russian.”

“Oh, we both know I am not. The actual ones are bottled, lined up at your bar.” Natasha chuckled.

A mug clinked against the marble counter. “Here you go, darling.”

And Pepper knew, Tony was not joking at all. The redhead spy was his favourite Russian… probably favourite Avenger, too.

>>>>>

“You are -” Pepper started when Tony appeared by the door of the VIP area.

“Late for the call time,” the genius billionaire continued. “Of course. It’s not me if I’m not late.”

She just smirked with pure sarcasm.

“I made it! I’m here, Pep. That’s what matters.” He approached her and gave her a kiss on both cheeks.

She crossed her arms to her chest and tried her CEO tone that worked for him sometimes. “Tony, may I just remind you that these are Stark Industries apprentices. Everything we do from this day onward that will be visible to those 50, top-of-their-class, students will either make or break their belief of the organization. For a hundredth time, I am telling you: please don’t screw this up.”

“Agreed. So, let’s go and get this significant activity started.” He smiled his most Tony Stark smile, closed lip, eyes covered with dark glasses, as he offered his arm to her.

Pepper just shook her head while they walked out to the corridor which will lead to the conference hall. Technically, they were still on-time for the start of the program; she was just worried that Tony would not make it to this event. Lately, especially after their break-up, he has been very much occupied with either saving the world being Iron Man or developing his suits plus his teammates' weapons.

She was missing him, yes, but the decision to separate - permanently this time - was theirs both. It was for the best. It was to make sure that their priorities will be attended to. It was to keep their sanity. It was to avoid hurting each other all the more.

Her random musing was interrupted when Tony's secure line rang.

"Cap. Where? Send me the coordinates. I’m going."

Those were the only things she heard as his face spelled instant worry.

"Tony…"

"Pep, I’m really, really sorry. I have to go."

Pepper felt her heart sunk in her chest. "What is it this time? And where are you going?"

"Natasha’s been compromised. I… we need to send her back up."

Her expression probably turned grimmer upon hearing the woman's name. But as she stared at her ex-boyfriend's face, anxiety was etched on it, like he could literally fly out of there in seconds even if she did not respond.

"Go." That was all she managed to say. She knew nothing, and no one, can stop him at this point.

"I’ll make it up -"

"Don't promise anything. Just go now, Tony."

True enough, he was gone in seconds.

>>>>>

“Mr. Stark?”

Pepper saw how Tony’s face lit up when he recognized the two people by his hospital suite’s door.

“Hey, Pete.” He greeted as Peter approached him, followed by Natasha. “Tash.”

“Hi, Ms. Potts.” The young man politely acknowledged her presence beside his mentor.

“Hello, Peter, Nat,” she greeted back, too.

Natasha smiled at her.

“I should leave you for now. Also need to respond to some work mails.” Pepper turned to their patient to say goodbye. “Tony.”

“Go ahead, Pep. I already kept you long enough here.” He reached out to grip her hand lightly. “Thanks.”

She stepped to the other side of the suite to gather her things on the couch and table then stuff them in her tote bag. Against the thin wall which divided the area into two, she could still hear their interaction.

“Good to see you, buddy.”

“Ms. Romanoff fetched me after class.”

“I knew he would want to see you so, instead of calling to let him know what happened, I went to pick him up instead.”

“How are you feeling?” Peter checked up.

“Nothing serious. I should be out of here since yesterday if not for some overreacting Avengers.”

“Shut up, Stark.”

Tony chuckled. “See? That's exactly what I mean. They don’t even listen to me!”

“Oh please.”

Pepper could just imagine Natasha rolling her eyes.

“You hungry? I can have food delivered here. Name what you want.” Tony offered.

“We already stopped by somewhere.”

“Yep! Burger King!” Peter exclaimed.

“Come on... That's not fair.”

Of course, the billionaire had to overreact. She just shook her head.

“Hold it! We got you a cheeseburger, too!”

Natasha made a sound of disapproval. “Peter, I told you we need to check with the doctor first if he can eat greasy food before you take that out.”

“Oh... Yeah. Sorry, I got excited.”

“There's no turning back now, Spiderling. Hand that over to me.”

“Tony.” The spy rebutted again. “You are under medication.”

“Nobody will know. Right?”

Pepper managed to peek at them as she made her way to exit, seeing Tony bit stubbornly on the cheeseburger.

“Seriously, I’m feeling way much better now having this and seeing my favourite spiders – ouch!”

She closed the door as Natasha hit Tony with a throw pillow.

In her head, she could not deny how the three looked much like a family.

>>>>>

It was Tony’s birthday and he opted to hold a charity gala instead of his usual extravagant party.

As Pepper watched him interact with the other Avengers, she realized how much this man has changed from being a self-centred bastard to a selfless hero, and she was more than glad to see that transformation.

Except that she also noticed how his eyes longingly glanced towards Natasha’s way from time to time…

The female Avenger seemed to be avoiding Tony. From afar, she sensed how the two naturally gravitated to each other, but for some reason, Natasha would suddenly move away.

She decided that it was time to ask, and she opted to go to Tony as she still has not developed a closer relationship with the Russian throughout the years.

“Tony, are you okay?” She asked after discreetly pulling him to a corner with less people.

“Yeah, of course. Why would I not be okay?”

Pepper noted how he just forced a smile before drinking from his glass of whisky.

“Because of Nat.”

There was a pause before he attempted to deny her observation. “Pep –“

“I’ve been watching you two.”

He sighed heavily and looked down on the remaining ice in his glass.

“She… she turned me down.”

Did she mishear him?

“She… what?”

“Yeah.” Tony nodded still avoiding her eyes. “Just this week. She said she cannot do it.”

“W-why?”

“She cannot do it to you.”

“Are you serious?”

Why, she never expected that!

“Yep. Cannot joke about this.” He forced a smile again and exchanged his empty glass with another from the server who passed by.

The thought rendered Pepper quiet for a few moments. Tony then realized that he made a mistake of telling the matter to her upfront.

“No. Sorry, Pep. I shouldn’t have –”

“I… It’s been months… We’re fine.” She verbalized.

“But, you know, I can’t force it to her if she’s not comfortable. I get it.”

“Tony, no. It should not be the case. We’re long over us, and you deserve to move on.” She emphasized. “I see how much you have always cared for each other. You love her, and I believe she feels the same.”

He shook his head and smiled bitterly. Typical Anthony Edward Stark who did not believe that he deserved to be happy, too…

And she needed to do something about it.

#iron man #black widow #tony stark #natasha romanoff #tonynat #tonynatasha #iron widow #avengers #otp #mcu #marvel #au #fic #ask #prompt #ironwidow #tony stark/natasha romanoff

31 notes · View notes

sethnakht · 5 years

Note

Anne Elliot/ Frederick Wentworth! ;)

Give me a CHARACTER or a SHIP, and I will bold the statements that are true, and elaborate on my preferences and specific narrative kinks where I am so moved.

Do not want. Ptooey.

I am neutral, indifferent and serene. Send me a rec and change my mind.

I’ll enjoy anything as long as they’re in it.

To be sure, I haven’t tested this claim on a large sample size. Would I enjoy a story where one of them dies in the process, etc? I think it depends on the execution - I need more fic data ;-)

I’ll enjoy anything as long as they get a happy ending.

Break them and make them bleed.

Swaddle them in fluff.

I’m mostly interested in gapfilling and exploring their canon interactions.

I love imaginings of their first courtship that unfold new contrasts between the then and now, between the potential (and potential blindnesses) then and its changed shape in the now. The novel has a sonnet-like preoccupation with give, take, gain, loss, blooming and fading - I love seeing that explored. I’m also totally here for expansions - post-canon tales of their Naval life, for instance.

Throw the canon out the window; bae deserves better.

Gimme crackfic.

Gimme all the tropes.

I really, really enjoy retellings with, say, genderbending or other tropes that build on the broken engagement - that event alone offers so many ways to navigate (hah! land and sea metaphors!) questions of choice and whether there is such a thing as a constant self, I feel overwhelmed just thinking about the possibilities.

ALSO - anyone who might be reading this, if you’re looking for spectacular Persuasion fiction, amarguerite’s And Now the Storm-Blast Came is scorching, poetic, in essence everything I never knew I wanted but have needed from this setting and these characters. It’s changed how I see the novel, and it’s been a rare bright light for me in these dark months - if you read Austen, take a look.

Subvert the tropes and set them on fire.

I am a simple soul: I’m here because they’re hot and sometimes naked.

Here is my OTP. Come between them and I will…ship and let ship, because I am a civilized fanperson, but CAN’T YOU SEE THEY’RE PERFECT TOGETHER??! (Or perfectly, fascinatingly, shippably dysfunctional, in certain cases.)

Anne’s absolute certainty that Wentworth is the One is hard for me to imagine away from her character (same with Fred re: Anne, even while he’s on the market for someone else). Unless they meet someone who isn’t in their novel before their first courtship, or one of them dies, or some other major change took place, it would be difficult for me to imagine Anne, at least, letting herself be open to someone else. Does this mean that her claims to Captain Harville, that her certainty that she is not like Benwick couldn’t be put to the test? No. I could be convinced.

I have favoured and disfavoured ships. Convince me. Seduce me.

I had an OTP once, but then this amazing author, [insert author here], seduced me. Goddammit.

Fandom bicycle, baby! \o/

I have no shippy feelings at this time.

My feelings cannot be summed up by this meme. Have a seat while I put the kettle on.

Persuasion isn’t my favorite Austen - it doesn’t feel quite finished to me, or rather - the Bath section doesn’t capture me in the same way as the novel’s first half (with the exception, of course, of that glorious scene where Anne gets to debate with Harville and deliver one of the best burns in literature as Fred silently channels his torment into his quill). I’ve wavered on Anne in the past: sometimes my heart beats for her throughout the reading, sometimes I’ve shifted wildly from sympathy (that scene where she’s told she doesn’t dance, how she plays piano without any audience!) to resenting her for not being Mrs. Croft (whom I adore, but the judgment isn’t coming from a place of fairness) or even Fanny (who faces worse neglect under far grimmer circumstances; again, not a fair judgment). In the end, I still re-read Persuasion as often as P&P, so more often than any of the other novels, and I suspect it’s because Anne and Wentworth together open the doors to a new world (while Fanny’s doors close with Edmund). I love Anne for her gently ironic, suppressed inner narrative, her kindness in action even when her thoughts grow sour with exhaustion and “superior” judgment, her total willingness to sacrifice herself for the happiness of others, her attentiveness to the people around her and graciousness in listening to them; I love how she blooms in response to the Harvilles and the sea, how she values them and Mrs. Smith, where she is at the end of the novel. And I love all the potential she brings to explore what it is to be home in a kind of homelessness, to dive into the world beyond the English drawing-room, to pick at the tensions between duty and choice. I love Wentworth, too, for reasons I’ve never actually articulated - it’s something to do with how he picks Mary’s kid from Anne’s back, maybe, or how his diction feels fresh on the page, sharp and vivid like salt air, or how his presence fills every page of the novel … I don’t know what it is exactly, but when the two of them are together, the novel sings.

#meme #persuasion #amarguerite #this is a terrible and inadequate response #apologies

1 note · View note

sirpercivalgravesofmacusa · 7 years

Note

Can you write something about a kidnapped reader with Mr. Graves?

Again this is written with Dearly Beloved in mind and for future reference any requests/headcanons I get will be written with Delphine as his love interest. It helps with ideas for my story if I just keep writing about her in all these different scenarios.

The cold chill of New York nipped at Percival Graves’s skin after he apparated back to the city. Percival tugged his coat closer to escape the climate change. He walked with purpose down the streets, set on submitting a report of his findings to the President. The Grindelwald lead turned out to be a dead-end. Percival would have to start his investigation from scratch. The thought grated on his nerves.

“Percival!”

His head whipped around to the spot the person who had called out for him. Percival’s brown eyes locked on a beautiful woman racing towards him. A smile broke out of its own accord on his face as Delphine stood before him.

“Darling, what’re you doing here? It’s the middle of the night.” Percival chided his wife-to-be. He adored how sometimes she would be waiting for him after he sent a message ahead of of his return from a mission, however in this case, Percival would prioritize her safety over his delight. Delphine smirked at him, snaking her arms around his elbow and guiding him to a deserted alleyway. The contact sent a chill down Percival’s back for some reason. He disregarded the sensation as a reaction to the cold.

“I was waiting for you. I need your help with something.” Delphine’s eyes fluttered with hidden intent.

“What is it?”

The report could wait. Delphine rarely, if ever, asked for his help like this. Whatever concerned her must be important.

“I followed a group of suspicious wizards and saw them enter a warehouse. I think they’re fanatics.” Delphine whispered. She came to a stop and seized Percival’s hands in a painful hold. Shadows blanketed them and kept anyone from seeing their discussion. The small space of the alley forced them to press closely together.

“Why didn’t you report this to MACUSA? You could have been captured or worse.” Percival harshly said. Fear for Delphine made him lash out and squeeze her hands.

“I am reporting this to MACUSA. You’re the Director of Magical Sercurity and Law Enforcement, aren’t you?” Delphine coyly tilted her head in mock confusion.

Percival grunted and mildly glared at Delphine. He wasn’t pleased with her simple and not to mention, reckless logic. This kind of brazen foolishness was expected from one of his Aurors but not from a trained Mediwitch, they went looking for trouble not Mediwitches.

“Will you come with me? I’m worried they’ll get away.” Delphine pressed closer to him filling Percival’s nostrils with an odd smell of potions.

“I’ll go with you but you’ll stay out of harm’s way. If it comes to a fight, I don’t want you getting injured.” Percival relented with a severe frown. He could handle a few renegade wizards on his own, nevertheless he knew Delphine wouldn’t stand for him going into a hostile situation alone. She could handle herself in a duel if necessary and her healing skills might be needed if things turned ugly.

Delphine slowly smiled. Percival felt his body be pulled and squeezed in the familiar sensation of side-along-apparition. They landed in a run-down part of the city where no one but animals and vagabonds wandered. Percival pulled out his wand to scan the area. He could detect traces of wards surrounding the area. The abandoned building seemed to be the focus of the wards. This place surely must a hideout for Grindelwald’s followers.

“What do you think of Gellert Grindelwald’s philospies?” Delphine’s abrupt inquiry halted Percival’s investigation. The moon cast an eery glow on Delphine’s ebony hair and bronze skin. The black coat she was wearing made her appear as more of a deadly beauty than a gentle belle. Warning bells went off in Percival’s head but he couldn’t fathom why Delphine was eliciting such responses from him.

Percival approached Delphine. This is the woman he loves more than life. Why is his gut screaming at him to run?

“It saddens me that we must hide for fear of persecution.” Percival answered but paused after seeing the pleased gleam in Delphine’s hazel eyes. “However, that doesn’t mean I’m willing to commit mass genocide for the greater good.” He added.

Delphine’s pleased eyes darkened and her shoulders sagged in disappointment. She turned to head for the entrance of the warehouse. Percival clutched his wand tighter and raced after Delphine. He was on full alert as they entered the warehouse while Delphine was at ease.

“What’s gotten into you?” Percival grabbed Delphine’s arm to make her face him. He didn’t understand where his lover’s odd behavior was coming from. Since when did she have such an interest in Grindelwald?

The warning bells were ringing even louder in Percival’s head. The empty first floor began to pulsate with magic. A feeling of dread settled in Percival’s chest as he sensed the appearance of others.

“What a shame.” Delphine ignored Percival’s question. Her gloved hand glided over his cheeks and traveled downward. “Grindelwald would have welcomed such a powerful pureblood with open arms.”

A viscous grin was all Percival was rewarded with before his wand was yanked away and he was thrown back by a stunning spell. He fell to the ground, unable to move. Delphine’s face hovered over his and was joined by hooded figures pointing their wands at him.

“We’ve lived in the shadows for too long, dear Percival.” Delphine’s voice was the last thing Percival heard before he blacked out from the numerous spells that hit him.

“Percival! Percival, wake up!”

A scream jolted Percival awake. He jerked in his seat, frantically looking around for his attackers. Movement was difficult though when Percival was completely tied to a chair and he felt incredibly sluggish. His magic was cut off from him as well. The situation was looking grimmer by the minute.

“Stop! Don’t struggle, it only makes the ropes tighten.”

Percival collected himself and noticed the person sitting in front of him in a similar fashion.

“Delphine?!” He muttered incredulously. “How? I just saw you…What nonsense is this?!”

“No! It wasn’t me, I swear Percy.” Delphine tearfully exclaimed.

Percival’s heart tugged form how pitiful and hurt Delphine looked. She was covered in cuts that oozed fresh blood and her hair had become a mane of wild curls. Her dress was tattered and had browned form all the blood it accumulated. Percival had an urge to reach over and take Delphine into his arms. This was the real Delphine without a doubt, he felt her pain as his own.

“What happened, sweetheart?” His voice lost its edge and became softer to pacify her.

“I-I don’t know, it all happened so fast.” Delphine had to catch her breath before she could continue talking. “S-Someone bumped into me and suddenly I was at a warehouse surrounded by men…I can’t remember anything after that.”

“Why would Grindelwald’s fanatics kidnap you? They have nothing to gain from this.”

Delphine ducked her head in shame. “I-I’m sorry…I tried to resist, I really did but it all became too much.” She cried harder from her admission of weakness.

Percival’s stomach felt as though ice had been dropped into it. It horrified him to imagine what these fanatics may have done to his sweet Delphine. He was going to make them all pay.

“Grindelwald tortured me for information…I told him about you and MACUSA.” Delphine mumbled. She glanced up and pleaded for Percival’s forgiveness.

“Sh, sh, sh. It’s not your fault, darling.” Percival soothed her as best he could. “I don’t blame you. You’re alive and that’s all that matters to me.”

Percival may have felt conflicted about Delphine’s actions but in the end he cared more about her life than job. He couldn’t be angry at Delphine. As a man he was selfish. So many years had passed with him distancing himself from others that he couldn’t give up the one person he’d allowed inside his heart. His love may have made him weak but he wouldn’t trade Delphine for anything.

A door violently swung open. The imposter wearing Delphine’s face, strut into the room. Percival darkly glared at them while they openly laughed at his enraged face.

“I hope you two lovebirds are enjoying your new accommodations.” The imposter stalked up to the real Delphine, bending down to caress her cheek. “Have you missed me, love?”

Delphine cowered from the invasive touch. Percival growled at the perverted image he was being subjected to. In front of him were two Delphines that were complete opposites.

“Get away from her!” Percival ordered.

“Defensive are we? I can understand why, she is a pretty one. Not so much right now though.” The imposter twirled one of Delphine’s curls around their finger while chuckling. The laughter was brought to an end when the chuckles turned into painful gasps.

The fake Delphine’s face began morphing back as the polyjuice potion wore off. Black hair faded to blonde. Hazel eyes became heterochromatic shades of grey and black. Bronze skin lightened to a pale white. The body stood back up. Gellert Grindelwald stood behind Delphine.

“Grindelwald.” Percival hissed.

“The one and only.” Grindelwald raised his arms in a dramatic flare.

“What do you want? Why are you here in America?”

“Didn’t pet here, already tell you?” Grindelwald smirked and pat Delphine’s head like she was a dog. She whimpered and bowed her head. “I want you Percival Graves and I have a way of getting what I want.”

#ask blog #ask me anything #ask #fantastic beasts and where to find them #fantastic beasts movie #percival graves #original percival graves #gellert grindelwald #grindelgraves #fanfic #fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter movies #percival x reader #graves x reader

29 notes · View notes

khelinski · 7 years

Text

In the End

A \m/ short story

By: Keith Helinski

(Don't) Leave Out All the Rest: My Tour of the \m/ Studio, PT. One

Buena Heights News - Page 9 - Entertainment

By: Robert Morgan, Staff Writer

As I was walking toward Outsider's Vengeance very own studio in Winter Haven, passing the famous La Grange on my way inside, my phone starts lighting up. Usually, I keep my phone dialed down. No need to worry about the newest Trump storm. But this was different. Chester Bennington of Linkin Park committed suicide. And it just so happens to be on the same day of Chris Cornell's birthday. I was unsure if I should reschedule this interview. It was really Mike who reached out to me for this candid interview. But then I thought that this breaking (and tragic news) might make the interview more interesting. Us journalist's tend to be cutthroat when it comes to getting emotion (and the truth) out of people.

I knocked on the door. Moments later, Mike opened the door, wearing an Linkin Park 2004 tour shirt. I suspected right there and then that he received the news. Looked like he was crying a little, as it appeared he had a tear-stained face.

He ushered me inside, coughed a little, and then reintroduced himself. He also pointed out that he was the only one that would participate in the interview.

"The rest of the band felt uncomfortable. And especially with what happened today...with...ahem...Chester."

I suggested that we could (and should) reschedule. But he insisted that the show must go on. There was a question - more than any other question of all questions that was boiling inside of me to ask Mike Cook of Outsider's Vengeance:

"First and foremost, I have to ask...why me? Why reach out to me for this interview? I am just a pissant staff writer for the local news circuit. There are certainly more qualified interviewers out there."

He wiped his eyes. My guess, he had been crying all morning. Death of rock great's are felt amongst the great's themselves. He then said:

"You were the first to give our band a positive review. Do you remember?"

Off hand, I don't. I've written so many pieces over the years, I've forgotten most of them. I must have looked disappointed, because Mike assured me that it's okay if it has lost my mind. He walked me over to the band's studio. Instruments such as drums, an elaborate keyboard set up, and an assortment of guitars (electric, acoustic, bass) were stationed exactly where they should be. Mike headed toward a desk, and reach over to a folder, and pulls out a cut-out newspaper article. He then hands it to me. I glance at it, and see that it's an oldie but a goldie from yours truly: me!

"For being young, Outsiders played with mature perfection, covering classic rock tunes as if they were polishing relics at an art museum. They weren't just good, they were great. And their energy was like watching the Harlem Globetrotters do tricks with instruments, instead of a basketball."

Okay. I will admit it. I remember writing that two hours after I saw the young kids play Buenafest. Talk about ancient times!

"So is that a folder of all reviews?" I asked.

"No. Just the positive ones. We call it, 'Use Your Illusion."

"Do you keep the negative reviews as well?"

He sighed. Then said:

"Yes. We keep those in another folder called 'Appetite for Destruction!"

I laughed. This band has kept their studio well themed with rock history. After all, their studio is known as simply, \m/. You look around, with rock posters all over the place. Yes. Dream Theater. Metallica. Elton John. Avenged Sevenfold. Pink Floyd. Even a spotted Lady Gaga poster in the mix, the one in which she is flicking her middle finger out toward her 'little monsters.'

Mike broke the silence in the studio by putting on, in low volume, music I never heard before. I must admit - even though this band has made the city of Buena Heights proud, I haven't kept track of the band. I was mostly into older rock like Aerosmith or Bad Company. There are selective songs played on WRIF or WCSX I would recognize. As a matter of fact, the intro of the song Mike started playing me sounded, faintly, like the beginning of Soundgarden's 'Black Hole Sun.' But it was instrumental - with subtle signature changes. I am no music critic by any means, but this sounded damn good.

"Our new album, called 'Black Hole Sun.' I got the inspiration the day after Chris Cornell's death. I wanted you to listen to it before anyone else. And before you ask, why me? Why not, you?"

He got me there. I completely absorbed the melodies played before me, thinking of all the crazy music notes interacting with each other, dancing and making love to its finer touches. Not since I was a teenager was I captivated by the magic of music, and its grand escape it does to our senses (both inwards and outwards). Wasn't until over an hour later did I realize that I was still in that studio with Mike. He had given me a seat somewhere in the space of time (I don't even recall sitting down). The music was that good.

I pull out my pen and paper out of my bag that was next to me. Some journalists like to use a tape-recorder. I am more old school. Always have been.

I jot down the time, date, and who I was sitting next to. Introductory stuff, you know.

"Sooo..." I said.

"Sooo..." he replied.

Great interview so far, I thought, not! I haven't done an exposé since my first year in college. I think I am doing it right....not! Setting the scene. Check. Expressing my thoughts and feelings. Check. Trying to get something out of my subject. Fail

Mike then continued to say:

"Let's get this out of the way. Chester committed suicide on Chris's birthday. When I found out about Chris Cornell committing suicide in Detroit, out of all places, that stirred up a lot of raw emotion about Andrew's overdose."

I gulped. Although I wasn't completely familiar with the band's music - I was familiar with the band's history. Every resident in Buena Heights was. And certainly Andrew's death was a huge blow to the city. Though, in terms of tragedy - nothing compares to the killings that took place in that dreadful movie theater. But I've covered that enough.

I piped up, using my empathetic journalistic skills of attempting to pry without asking:

"Can't imagine a band going through that."

Mike knew I was baiting him to continue on. He took it, and said:

"Nothing goes on inside the head as it happens. All you can think about is, shit, we just lost one of us. Almost as if you lost your hand or eye-sight. A band is a fully-functional life-form. Each member is the body parts that makes the life-form alive, well, breathing, and working. Like food and water and air that makes any life-form alive - a band needs their own nourishment. As you can see, we love music - love rock - love all different types of band. We listen to these bands, much like we drink water, to keep our body whole. We use that inspiration, like food, to produce the energy to create. Our creation is our breathing of air. It all flows within - and gets equally released. When you lose a piece of you - you are unsure of yourself. Unsure if you should go on - or can go on."

He then paused for a few moments, gathering his next thoughts. He sighed as he said:

"I am starting to sound like Andrew. All profound, insightful, Mr. Music Philosopher! Heh!"

I wrote every single word he said down on paper. I wasn't quite sure where this interview would go at first. But much like the music Mike played for me a little bit ago, I am intrigued.

Mike then continued to say:

"First, the emotions of your lost brother sets in. The funeral arrangements. Facing family and friends. Uncertain how they are going to react, as you are uncertain how you want to react. Should I filter myself? Am I going to break down? No one is really prepared for any of that until it actually happens. And once it does - while going through it feels like eternity of hell looped over and over - it's over in mere seconds. You then brush yourself off, go back to the empty studio where your lost brother's instrument sits there, unoccupied."

He glanced at an empty space in the studio. My guess, where Andrew's drums resided at. He continued to say:

"And you are expected to continue life as if nothing happened. Sure, your fans and family and rock mates across the universe reach out. Everyone says they, you know, 'understand.' Everyone who is everyone has experienced death. But that comfort only gets you so far. The question you often ask yourself late at night: why him and not me? Similar to your question, but in a much grimmer scale. But the question I still ask myself: why didn't Andrew talk to me, or anyone one of us about his addiction?"

I uncomfortably adjust myself in my seat.

Mike then chuckled and said with some uncertainty in his voice:

"Perhaps I called you down here to be my therapist! You are at least cheaper than a therapist. And you haven't asked about my dreams, and what they mean!"

I was about to ask him about his dreams when he interrupted my own thoughts by saying:

"Well, Andrew does show up in my dreams once in a while, playing a song I've never heard of - which has evolved into some of Outsider's Vengeance songs."

Mike noticed that I wasn't jotting anything down.

"It's okay that you add that part. Listen, man...don't leave out all the rest. Publish this whole."

CONTINUED ON PAGE 15

So here I am, sitting next to Mike Cook in the rockin' \m/ studio. The \m/ studio, residing in the outskirts of Winter Haven, Fl - has been the inspirational setting of some of Outsider's Vengeance's successful albums to date. His band-mates aren't present.

"So where are the rest of the band? You mentioned they were uncomfortable with this interview."

Mike chuckled at the word, 'interview.'

He then got up and walked toward the drums.

"They always have been, shy of the attention of success."

He chuckled again.

"Except Ellie. She loves the attention, and talking about whatever, whenever, however. She couldn't make it to this one, though. She went back home. With all the shit happening in the UK right now, she wanted to be with family. I will be joining her in a few weeks."

As I write the last bit Mike said on my paper, he walked away from the drums and headed toward his guitar. He strapped the guitar around his body, and started to strum a few chords. I recognized it. An Linkin Park tune. Didn't know the exact song at the very second, but I looked it up later. It was the intro to 'In the End.'

"We all come and go, Robert. That is life. In the end, I guess it depends what you do with the time you have. I am still searching for the whys and hows to Andrew's death. Each time I hear or read about yet another tragic death in the rock scene, it resurfaces the emotions that unfolded the morning I saw Andrew's body in that hotel room."

He plotted down on a couch across from where I was sitting, and kept on talking. My pen was reciting everything he was saying.

"The scene is reacted in my head. The empty pill bottle on the dresser. The empty Captain Morgan bottle next to his bed. The headphones attached to his lifeless head, with two songs looped back to back. It never leaves your head. Time heals, sure. And life goes - but the scene never fully leaves your brain. Once you see something like that, it can't be unseen. It's cemented in your memory forever - seeing it in your sleep, in your daily routine. Even when I am touring, on stage playing, it's still there. It has faded a little, until the next overdose or suicide story floats. And as Pennywise always says - 'everyone floats!'”

Mike chuckled, then continued to say:

"Look, I don't want to make it appear like this is a depressing interview. You caught me in a weird mood, out of all days, you know. That's life. The positive side of things...we are still working on our new album, fine-tuning it. Then we go on tour. Still battling that damn ticket empire, but that's a whole other story. Another time and place!"

I had the impression that the interview was just about over. He asked me if I wanted to tour the studio. I said of course. This would be the first time I toured a studio, like, ever!

But as Mike said, that's a story for another time. Next issue, I promise.

Until next time...

K.H. - July 20th-August 9th, 2017.

***

Around mid-July, I was reading a magazine about Lady Gaga. It was excerpts of different interviews she had done over the years. About a week or so later, Chester Bennington committed suicide. I was struck with the same raw emotions I felt after Chris Cornell's and Scott Weiland's death - sadness. Sadness to their families, their band, and sadness of the pain they were going through up until...

I got inspired the night of Bennington's passing - and started a little writing project. I wasn't sure where I was going with it - except I decided to write it in a form of a newspaper article, similar to what I've read in that Gaga magazine.

I am not quite in love with the end result of it - but it was a great writing exercise. Practice is never a waste, and I have a feeling I will be continuing the \m/ series for years. I really like these characters - and it's the closest I will ever get to being in a rock band!

Also got me thinking - all rock band's are fans of other rock band's. I am sure they feel the same feelings/emotions as the fans do when one of their favorites dies. That's ultimately the gist behind this story and 'Black Hole Sun.'

#in the end #Linkin Park #\m/#black hole sun #dreaming

0 notes

randomnotesofmyown · 4 years

Text

Urasawa’s Monster (73-74)

Episode 73 - The landscape of the End (Or, Temma the doctor) The rain continued. Wim's father alone on the street, "Everyone's dead...A devil...a devil came to this town!"

Temma and Bonaparte about to enter Bergbach Hotel, Wim came running, telling Temma that a girl showed up looking for him. The girl looked like the twins in drawings. "Nina..." said Temma. "So, they call her Nina now. She's called Nina now. " "Yes. Nina Fortner."

Tears ran down Bonaparte's face.

"You always said people should cherish their names, right, Mr Poppe?"

Bonaparte told Wim to go hiding in the general store. And the three of them saw Johan.

Temma drew his gun, pointed at Johan.

Bonaparte hit Temma and he dropped to the ground. Then Bonaparte pointed a gun at Johan.

A gunshot. Bonaparte got shot in the neck and dropped on his knees.

Nina and Gillen ran on the street. "We have to find Bonaparte. Back then, at the Red Rose Mansion, he said to me, 'Listen. Forget everything you just saw now. Run away from here, as far as you can. Because you see, people can become anything. You are both beautiful jewels. That's why you can't become monsters.'"

"That's what he said to me. That's why I..."

Roberto walked to Bonaparte, then he slumped. "Show me..."

"You can't see it."

"Dr. Temma. To you, all life was equal. That's why I was revived. But you should have realized it by now. The only thing everyone is equal in is death."

"You can see it, too. The landscape of the end."

Nina and Gillen arrived. She asked Temma not to shoot. Then, turned to Johan, "I forgive you. Even if we were the last two people in the world, I'd forgive you. That's what I can do for you." "You can't. Something can't be taken back. I can't turn back now. Dr. Temma is going to shoot me."

Johan took out a gun in his pocket and pointed it at Wim.

A bullet fired.

Johan fell to the ground. No one said anything. No scream, no gasping for air. Nothing. Everyone was stunned. Everyone was quiet. Just the sounds of the rain.

Wim's father walked on the street, still muttering "A devil...a devil came to this town and slaughtered everyone." He saw Johan pointing a gun at his son. And then he saw something in Johan.

He stepped back, screamed "Monster, get away from my son!" and fired.

Police reinforcement and paramedics arrived at Ruhenheim. News crew too. A police officer detained Wim's father and he reported the reason the suspect pulled a trigger was that...

Lunge got carried out on a stretcher. He told the police that Roberto was responsible for the deaths.

Police saw the lottery couple and asked them who they were. Then the husband realized he dropped the lottery ticket somewhere and intended to go look for it.

The wife said it was not needed. They could live as they were. "That's enough for me."

Lunge was placed next to Johan, he asked the paramedics if the young man was alive. They replied "With that head injury, even the best neurosurgeon..." "No, there is one person. Please go get him."

Nina said...

"Temma, you weren't wrong. What you did back then, and what you are going to do now..."

Temma got on his feet and walked away from Nina. He patted Wim on his shoulder and walked to the helicopter.

In an operation theater, Temma walked to Johan, looked at him for like 15 seconds, then closed his eyes briefly

Then

End of episode 73

74 - The real monster (Or, what would happen next?)

Kal was reading Latin text to his father Mr. Schubert. He still didn't get every pronunciation right, but nonetheless better than when he first started, the old man said. Mr. Schubert then asked about Dr. Temma and was told that the Japanese doctor was traveling around the world.

Eva got a job as an interior designer and she was no longer alcoholic. Dr. Reichwein commended her progress. And the topic of their conversation shifted to "happiness". And for all the good things and bad that happened in life, people had a convenient makeup with the tendency of remembering only the happy memories.

In a visit to Grimmer's grave, Suk introduced Vardaman to Grimmer, saying that the suspicions against him had been cleared by the lawyer. They were joined by Lunge, who became an instructor at a police academy.

Dr. Temma visited a Catholic monastery in southern France. He saw the woman he befriended and sat down next to her. The doctor visited her many times before already. And this time she said, "I feel like I can talk about anything. No matter how frightening it may be." Wind started blowing in mid-sentence. The woman turned to Temma, "You have something you want to ask me, don't you?" "You're the mother of the twins, aren't you?" Wind stopped. Moments of silence before Temma asked the question, and moments of silence before the mother said yes, with a sad expression. "I loved him. He was killed by that man. Killing him was that man's experiment. I will never forgive him. Even if I died, the children that were growing inside of me would surely deliver punishment to that man."

"'Please don't...please don't let go of my hand.'"

"Are the children alive?" "Yes. They're doing well."

"I remember. I will probably never recall this again. I have to say this now. I gave those children names. Their names are..."

Nina ran to see her professor to hear his comment on her graduation thesis. After saying things that implied a bad result, the professor said Nina's thesis was the best he had seen thus far. Upon learning that Nina intended to become a lawyer, the professor wished her luck and

Temma went to Bavarian State Police Hospital to visit Johan.

"You've been asleep since then. Can you hear me?" "I've spoken with your mother. She loves you very much. She told me your real name. You had a name." Wind blew.

"Dr. Temma. There's one thing I want to ask you, and only you. Back then, that monster appeared before me."

Flashback: Chapek and Bonaparte at the door to take a child away for experiment. The twins' mother screamed. "Don't touch my children! No!"

Bonaparte, "This is an experiment."

"Now, which one will we take?" Both Johan and Anna begged her not to let go.

Eventually, she decided to let one go.

Temma

"Did my mother try to save me? Or did she mistake me for my sister?"

"Who was the one she didn't want?"

Temma closed his eyes and opened again and saw

But it felt very real...

Temma got up and said he would be going. He left after looking back at Johan again.

Wind blew.

Johan's bed became empty.

End of episode 74

Comment: Episode 73: It felt as though Dr. Temma's search for redemption had come full circle. His nightmare began when he realized one of the patients killed people because of something he said. More than a decade after the first surgery on that same person, he operated on Johan again, this time fully aware of the sort of person Johan was, after having spent years trying to kill him, Dr. Temma now saw in front of him a live to be saved. And he did what was expected of a doctor.

Episode 74: The first thought I had when Johan's bed became empty was that he jumped out of the window. But on a second thought, that didn't feel like what Johan would do. He wanted to know the answer to the question that had been troubling him for years. Did his mother let him go by mistake, or did she really want to keep his sister and not him. He might have sneaked out the hospital like he did years ago.

#monster #urasawa naoki

1 note · View note

randomnotesofmyown · 4 years

Text

Urasawa’s Monster (51-52)

Episode 51 - Monster's love letter (Or, it's all about names)

The year was 1976. Margot Langer (Real name: Helenka Novakova), in bed with Schubert, was reading a letter from her friend who failed to make it out of Czechoslovakia. The sender, someone who knew Margot better than Margot's own family, expressed a wish to meet up again at the three frogs, Cedok Bridge.

Dr. Reichwein in a counseling session with a middle-aged man who had some drinking problem. That man wanted the doctor to take a look at the woman who came along with him and was waiting outside the room. The doctor declined, saying he had a scheduled home appointment.

Reichwein met with Mr. Schubert, showing him the pictures taken in Prague. Schubert asked about the three frogs, was she there? Reichwein replied there was no one in there.

Schubert had a flashback. In 1980, he was at the three frogs to look for his lover Helenka. And he met Margot's friend.

Train of thoughts disrupted by Reichwein, who expressed worries about the old man not eating.

Schubert, however, was wondering why Johan knew so much about Margot Langer. He recalled Margot had a friend in Prague, a friend who knew her better than her family.

When he was talking with the woman about Helenka, the twins stood behind their mother, listening to every word said.

Reichwein in his consultation room. Entered a woman with long blonde hair. Before the session started, the nurse opened the door, saying something big was now TV.

It was about the arrest of Dr. Temma.

People who had been treated by Dr. Temma gathered at a café to discuss their possible action to help the doctor.

Temma's acquaintances were all worried.

Schubert told Karl to hire the best criminal lawyers to help Dr. Temma, the only person capable of obliterating the monster.

Watching with disbelief the news about Temma's arrest, Suk recalled words Grimmer and Lunge said to him and he figured he had to go to the police station to talk to the Japanese doctor.

In the corridor, Suk's colleagues told him all his charges were cleared by a letter from Grimmer.

Lunge entered the Rose Mansion again. He lift the oil painting off the wall and a pile of letters behind it.

Lunge got a call from his boss about the arrest of Temma and the deportation details. Lunge said he was still on vacation and then hung up.

Temma was told to leave his cell. In the corridor stood Lunge, who purposely said, "When we interrogate someone, what kind of person do you think is the toughest to crack? Someone whose expression never changes, regardless of the questions. Someone who doesn't say a word. That kind of person."

Lunge then took out the letters from his jacket and started reading them.

"I've been watching you all this time to eat up every bit of you. But instead, everything about you has devoured me. I wonder what I look like to you, who is collapsing into ruin. That which you left me, which is collapsing into ruin. You left me with such beautiful jewels. The twins, who are like eternal life itself. The greatest sin is to take away a person's name. Reclaim your name. I return your name to you. Your name is...Anna. I'm filled with sorrow now. Filled with sorrow...Filled with sorrow...Filled with sorrow..."

Episode 52 - the lawyer (Or, Somewhere over the rainbow)

Episode started with a man saying he wanted to go to Tunisia. Blue sky, blue ocean, and blue window frames.

That man, Gunter Milch, had been arrested and escaped prisons multiple times.

Milch and Temma walked past each other in the corridor.

Police officers were interrogating Temma, but he hadn't said a word.

Milch appeared to be sick and choking on his vomit. The doctor on duty was away, so the guards asked Dr. Temma to help.

Temma checked Milch's pulse and stuff, then told the guards to get hot water, clothes and leave the room. "It could be contagious."

Temma then asked Milch why he pretended to be sick.

Milch laughed. Then he asked if Temma wanted to escape with him.

Another interrogation session, Temma spoke. He said he had to tell the truth, although the police officers would not believe it.

Fritz Vardaman, a lawyer whose father was found guilty of spy charges and got a 20-year sentence, talked about the first case he won.

As the melody of "Somewhere over the rainbow" played, Vardaman asked his visitor, Alfred Baul, who wanted to defend Dr. Temma with him, to tell him more about that Japanese doctor.

Temma talked with Vardaman and told the lawyer everything he knew about Johan.

Vardaman asked Temma did something happened before he performed the operation on Johan.

Temma recalled the Turkish woman, the words Eva said, and stated that "all lives are equal".

A guard entered and said time was up.

Dr. Reichwein met with Vardaman about Temma's case. The lawyer said Eva Heinemann might know things that could prove the doctor's innocence.

Reichwein tried to talk Eva into meeting with Vardaman, but Eva fell asleep from heavy drinking.

The events of the night of execution replayed in her dream, Eva woke up, startled.

Vardaman's wife went into labor, so he told his assistant to ask Baul to see Temma in his stead.

And when Temma saw Baul's face, he knew who Baul really was.

Roberto.

And Roberto said he was thinking about killing Eva Heinemann.

End of episode 52.

Comment:

Episode 51 I do not follow the thoughts of Lunge. How did he get to the conclusion that a terrifying monster was born after reading the letters hidden behind that oil painting?

The letters mentioned not Johan but Anna, so who did Lunge see as the monster?

Episode 52 The words from one of Temma's interrogators, "take the burden off your shoulders" was enough to make Dr. Temma talk. He began blaming himself since the night he saw Johan killed. The gesture, the words, all indicated how much he blamed himself for saving Johan's life and yet the conflict was, doctors were not supposed to judge, doctors were just supposed to save lives, and Temma believed all lives should be equal.

Idealism is a good thing, it is what makes people human. But unfortunately, things won’t always turn out nicely just because of good wishes, Forget about the patient being good or evil for now. Doctors, when they are faced with too many demands and insufficient resources, would naturally have to choose, and have to decide who stands a better chance of survival. It’s about cost-effectiveness nine out of ten times.

Tough choices have to be made a lot of the time. One can make every effort to try to get the best outcome possible, and then move on.

#monster #urasawa naoki

1 note · View note

randomnotesofmyown · 4 years

Text

Urasawa’s Monster (69-70)

Episode 69 - the peaceful home (Or, nightmare started.)

Hotel owner introduced Konrad's homemade jam to his guests. And the jam maker Konrad was already dead.

Grimmer and Lunge discussed the coming massacre. Grimmer asked if they would invade this peaceful town, Lunge pointed out invasion was not the only means. "There was a case where a single destroyed an entire town. It was in 1958, in Zweifelstadt ("City of Doubts"*). A series of murders occurred in Niedersachsen. When the people began to suspect their neighbors of being the serial killer, the townspeople became paranoid about even dull, everyday activities. In a state of mass hysteria, one of the townspeople used a gun he purchased for 'protection' and shot his neighbor. No one could stop it after that. The town was set on fire, and everything within reach became a weapon. The residents killed each other and no one survived."

Grimmer said they had to prevent it before it began, Lunge replied it might have been too late already.

Wind blew.

Wim got bullied again, this time they took away his money.

A man's voice, "Boy, you hate them, don't you?"

The couple who won the lottery, still paranoid when others looked their way, decided to go talk to Konrad, the person they thought would know about their winning.

The husband found the body.

Grimmer saw the sausage girl in a happy mood. He asked if something good happened, and the girl replied that the wonderful man who would take her from this town finally showed up.

Wim's father wandered the street and came across the wheelchair couple. The man in the wheelchair got up and started, "What you want..."

"Is this, isn't it?"

Dog barking. A gunshot. Lunge turned around.

"...and the dog stopped barking."

Temma went to Prague, found Lipsky, and immediately asked for the whereabouts of his father, Franz Bonaparte. Lipsky kept quiet until Temma mentioned Nina.

The doctor then recalled the conversation he had with Nina before he came to Prague.

He put together a profile for Bonaparte.

And Nina told him where to look for Bonaparte's son.

Nina went on, "I can tell what Johan is trying to do. The perfect suicide. True solitude. His only expression of love. If we don't hurry, many innocent people will die."

In Lipsky's home, Temma talked about his father's picture books sitting on the bookshelves.

"After reading several of these, I've come to realize something. All the characters in his works have German names for some reasons. Like the God of Peace and this one."

"However, the problem is with this pen name, Klaus Poppe. The name Franz Bonaparte and all his other pen names were Czech, but only this pen name was German. Could it be that Klaus Poppe is the real name of your German-born Czechslovakian father?" Asked Temma.

"There was a detective using the same reasoning, who also discovered my father's real name. He said he was Inspector Lunge from the BKA. He left weeks ago. He also made another deduction. No, with Inspector Lunge, it was more like he became the person rather than using deduction. 'I am Klaus Poppe. I have no place to return to. In order to regain tranquility in my heart, I must return to my heart's homeland.'"

"German-born Czechoslovakians were chased out of Bohemia and lost their homeland when Germany lost the war. What part of Germany was his family from?"

"My father told me once when I was a child. Our hometown was in southern Germany, surrounded by mountains."

Lipsky said he gave Lunge a postcard he received three or four years ago.

Lipsky then asked if his father would be killed and what was going to happen.

"He's...Johan is trying to recreate it, the massacre that occurred at the Red Rose Mansion, the slaughter at Kinderheim 511...Please, no matter what happens, come back alive, Temma. You saved me. That's why you must..."

"It's starting to rain." said Lipsky, alone in his home.

Temma walked in the rain.

The lottery winner couples talked about the body of Konrad, and the damned lottery.

Grimmer waiting for a train and was told by a staffer that no train would come because the rails were flooded and road traffic stopped as the river was flooding.

"Guess we're like a deserted island. This is the worst possible situation."

Temma was talking to a man who had all of Klaus Poppe's works in his collection.

"I find the art interesting. But I just can't bring myself to like this person's works. There are tons of picture books with depressing content in the world. But his works are different from those, too. They are full of malice. "

The collector picked out a book.

From what he could tell, the author of that book and Klaus Poppe were the same person, said the collector.

"The content has completely changed. A thief escapes to a town in the mountains. The thief has a a scheme to make some money in that town but forgets how to steal after interacting with the townspeople. And then, he lives quietly, working for the people of the town. The title is 'A peaceful home'. Those bad feelings you get from his past works were completely gone. However, his art style became much worse. Strange isn't it. When his content became better, he couldn't draw anymore. It feels like he lost his goal or something..."

Temma looked at the title and something dawned on him. He asked for a map of southern Germany.

At Hotel Versteck, a police officer complained about the bad weather and the lack of men. The owner mentioned that a Mr. Kemner was attacked the night before after he left the pub. The officer loudly said those must have been done by outsiders.

The wheelchair couples entered the hotel. As they passed by Lunge, the inspector noticed something on the man's shoes.

After the police officer left, Lunge walked past the couples and started, "Your husband's shoes, they are rather dirty. It's as if he was walking in the rain." Then he said he would need to make a call.

The couples stared at him behind his back.

An officer saw a car stopped in the middle of a road, he got off his car and asked if any help was needed. The person pointed a gun at him with his right hand and fired.

"Looks like we can no longer stop it." Said Grimmer to himself.

A view of that town in the gloomy rain.

End of episode 69.

*I Googled Zweifelstadt 1958 and found this blog post, where a comment by Scriva read "I don't think the incidents mentioned in Monster are based on true accounts, even though places similar to Kinderheim 511 certainly did exist. Maybe not as a sort of experiment in Eastern Germany, but certainly in Romania. Similarly, serial murders of any kind did happen in Germany as in other places as well even though I don't think you will find a particular reference. The smaller towns, mentioned in Monster, do not exist in that form, neither Zweifelstadt or Ruhenheim exist in the attributed areas, but both could be there and they are word games."Zweifel" means "doubt" which is a major theme of Lunge's character arc." And Stadt means city, hence literally it means the city of doubts.

Episode 70 - the town massacre (Or, a way out)

Wim got beaten up by those boys again. After those boys left, Wim took out a gun.

Wim's father set foot in the pub, but was instantly asked to leave.

An officer, Laufer, found the body of Konrad. And then, when he ran to his partner Merkel, he found him lying on the ground. Laufer ran to his car and called the station. A shot fired at him.

"I'll take your gun, too," said Roberto.

Wim's father headed back to the pub, banged the door open with the gun given to him. But found everyone in there killed already.

Grimmer walking in the rain and saw dead bodies along the way. The town had become a battlefield. Walked around a corner, he saw Wim with a gun and three children on the ground.

Grimmer checked the gun, no bullet was fired from it. He then asked Wim to try to remember everything and who gave him the gun.

Laufer was spared and he went all the way to Hotel Versteck. Lunge asked about the person who shot him and was told that the gunman was some stranger. Lunge walked to the wheelchair couples and asked how many friends came to the town with them. Entered Grimmer, who said, "You did manage to spread quite a few guns around, though. You even gave one to a child like this."

The couples got up.

The man said, "He looked just like our grandson! He looked just like our grandson who passed away. He knew a lot about us."

Grimmer asked the couples who that was.

Lunge said, "you were writing a letter to your dead grandson. So you were passing on information to 'him'."

"'He' was probably after me." Said the hotel owner.

Lunge and Grimmer agreed.

An email addressed to Nina was sent to Dr. Reichwein a couple of days ago, and the counselor showed it to Nina. "I'll be waiting for you in Ruhenheim". They then discussed what Johan was trying to do, a perfect suicide, and claiming the lives of many innocent people as well.

Reichwein mentioned that a town by the name Ruhenheim existed in southern Germany, Temma might be there. Nina requested to go there.

Cut to the hotel, Lunge continued speaking. "This is a very strange feeling that I'm getting. At first, I thought you were just a character from a certain person's imagination. Yes, just like the characters that appear in your picture books. For years, I've been carrying out my investigations by collecting objective data. However, this time, I completely ignored the data and purely followed that man's imagination. As I followed the clues, partially for my own amusement, I met a young man who had entered the Red Rose Mansion many times in Czechoslovakia. He was your son. This postcard you sent him with a hand-drawn picture under your real name, Klaus Poppe, signed K.P. Even after arriving at this location and seeing you with my own eyes, I still feel strange. I feel as if a character from a storybook has escaped from its pages."

"However, this is reality." Said Grimmer. "In the list of names I had researched of people who escaped Czechoslovakia, the name 'Klaus Poppe' was indeed on it. Right before the Berlin Wall fell, you fled to this land. What were you running from? People like myself?"

"Were you trying to run away from people like me?"

"I can tell what the young man named Johan is trying to accomplish. And right now, that's exactly what's happening to this town."

Roberto in his room with the sausage girl. He said everything would have disappeared when the rain stopped.

The girl asked what would disappear, and Roberto replied, "All the memories."

Cut to Nina. Reichwein and Gillen agreed that Nina go to Rehenheim on two conditions: Gillen went with her and she must not bring a gun with her. Nina agreed and asked Reichwein to arrange everyone who knew Johan to get into hiding.

"What about your memories with Johan?"

"I must not erase them."

Temma arrived at town, saw a wounded man asking that the children be saved.

Cut to Lunge. "Johan. The first time I heard that name was in 1995. It was during the testimony of a certain neurosurgeon."

"Dr. Temma." Grimmer, "Then you're admitting that your deduction was wrong?" "No. He is still an important reference for me. Johan is just a fictional character to me. Fictional character, those are the words that captivated me during my vacation. How can a real man become a fictional character? The answer is simple. All the people who know him, all the people who know his past, everyone must be erased. And ultimately, it'll become like the ending to one of your books, Mr. Bonaparte."

"If that's what's happening in this town..." Lunge continued.

Grimmer said that was what he would do if he were Johan, he was also a fictional character. "I'm not a man named Neumaier who signed the hotel registry nor am I Wolfgang Grimmer. I am nobody. Then let's disappear together. Along with the man who stole my memories and my name."

Poppe said he was waiting for the sentence to be handed to him.

"You're waiting...? You're not afraid to die...?"

"People...people have to think of food as delicious. They have to enjoy a picnic of a holiday. They have to think a beer after work tastes great. People...people...people feel sad from the bottoms of their hearts when their children pass away. I won't let you die. I'm taking you away from this town, and I'll publicize everything. I'm going to show the world the identity of the monster that you've awoken! Until then, I'll protect you."

"Where is Johan", asked Lunge as he walked to the couples.

They said they didn't know.

"Then who is the man controlling this massacre?"

Again they said they didn't know.

Lunge pointed a gun at them.

Another gunshot.

Temma caught a glimpse of someone running. He entered a building and found a group of people hiding in it. He instructed them to run away to the forest.

The man talked, "There is a man giving orders in Hotel Bergbach"

The lottery couples showed up with their guns.

Lunge borrowed a sniper rifle and a pistol, then headed out.

Temma checked the coast was clear and told the people to run.

End of episode 70.

Comment: Episode 69: I think I would write a few lines about the wheelchair couples. They handed out guns to people who had negative feelings, to Wim's disgruntled father, to Wim, someone who got bullied time and again and resented the children who did that to him. And when they did, their facial expressions were identically strange. Their eyebrows showed sadness, and yet they were smiling at the same time. I do not understand the state of mind they were in; I do not see why, despite them having way more experience in life than Johan, they would willingly help Johan carry out his plan and act as his tools. Was it because their grandson died in a way that made them hate other people? With so much hatred that they would go as far as to egg people on killing each other?

Episode 70: This episode was grim, people either lost their lives or were afraid that they would be next. Fear. Despair. Anger. Sadness. But then when things looked most hopeless, help came. Temma arrived at the town and helped people escape; the lottery couples brought along their new weapons just when Lunge and Grimmer needed those. With those weapons, both Grimmer and Lunge expected to remain alive after everything was over.

#monster #urasawa naoki

0 notes