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billconrad · 1 year

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Confusing Characters with Real Life

I begin writing by mentally picturing my characters and then imagining how they would accomplish or react to something. The goal is to create a story that the reader finds realistic and exciting.

How do I get into this character? First, I place my reality aside and determine what this character is like. Then I picture this character reacting to their environment. So, I am pretending to be somebody else and think as they would think. Then I create (outline and write) dialog, scenes, and issues.

This imagined person is difficult to conceive of for many reasons. The main one is that my boring life is far different from my character, and thus, we do not have much in common. Have I flown on a rocket ship or murdered somebody? Nope. But I have an imagination that allows me to pretend to be anything or anyone. How about a female lumberjack? That’s a giant leap from my present life but achievable. I would begin by using my knowledge of women and cutting wood. The results will never be perfect, but with some effort, readers will believe such a person (character) could exist.

I like to write close to my reality so that the story and characters are as realistic as possible. So it is challenging to picture a character far outside of my domain. A comic book superhero, a soldier in jungle combat, a child fighting against a drugged-out parent, or a homeless man trying to survive in China? A bridge too far. (But I wrote about aliens. Hmm.)

Does this mean I genuinely believe I am a female lumberjack during the writing process? I apply maximum effort to get as close as possible to that image. This mindset allows me to craft what a female lumberjack would do and say. (Or at least my baffling mind would find her believable.)

Is imagining a female lumberjack creepy, immoral, or illegal? Yes, but no. Long before I held a pencil and wrote my first letter, I was an imaginative kid who thought about all kinds of things. Our imagination is both beautiful and a little creepy. Unfortunately, it gets immoral and illegal when we act on these unsavory thoughts.

Books and movies take our imagination up a notch by providing examples. In 1976, I distinctly recall thinking I was Luke Skywalker after watching Star Wars. I am sure millions of other kids acted the same. Yet, we knew Star Wars was fiction and that we were pretending to be an unreal person.

Yet, that is not quite the topic at hand. Pretending to be Luke Skywalker is like a costume we can wear and then take off. Creating a character is far more involved, and the characters never entirely switch off.

For example, I might want to add to the dinner conversation, “Bob did the craziest thing today… Oh, Bob is one of my characters.” It takes a lot of effort not to make such statements. I also get hung up in the real world. Why can’t it work like my fictional world? In my made-up stories, the characters do precisely what I want. The real world had lasting consequences, responsibilities, true evil, laziness, and corruption. All that negativity is still present in my story but is used as a plot device. So, the unpleasant characters are not evil, just misunderstood. Want your broken arm healed? There, all better. Your mother is not really dead…

I have been fortunate to have never talked/posted about my characters as if they were real. (Well, never been caught.) However, I feel the pull of my imagination, and I know it has led to decisions in the real world. So, an alternative perspective could be that I want the world to work as it does in my imagination.

Writers often have lofty views on society and people. I suppose this is part of the creative process and what a writer wants to see. Their interviews sometimes show their imaginary world peeking out. They have bizarre quotes like, “(Fictional characters name) would never have voted for Trump!” Such a statement is a testament to a dedicated author who truly believes in their made-up world.

A fine line exists between being a sane author and one that needs professional help. Perhaps the best authors have honed the ability to jump into a delusional world and return to reality. Maybe some have made one jump too many. On the other hand, history is full of amazing artists and writers who were truly mad.

I will do my best to keep my characters on paper where they cannot harm anyone. The good news is that I know the difference between my imagination and the real world. Well, at least I think I do. The bad news is that this world has problems that my writing cannot fix.

You’re the best -Bill

May 20, 2023

Hey book lovers, I published three! Please check them out.

Interviewing Immortality is a psychological thriller about a 500-year-old woman who forces a disgraced author to interview her.

Pushed to the Edge of Survival is a drama, romance, and science fiction story about two unlikely people surviving a shipwreck and living with the consequences.

Cable Ties is a classic spy novel about two hunters discovering that government communications are being recorded and the ensuing FBI investigation.

These books are available in soft-cover on Amazon and eBook format everywhere.

#writing #character analysis #existence

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dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram · 4 years

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would you ever do a general rating of the 1d music videos?

I genuinely thought that I had already answered this, but I hadn’t. So my answer is: Of course! I thought you’d never ask.

One Thing: Music videos are inherently absurd and in some ways the more naturalistic they try and be the more ridiculous they are - because you still have these people lip syncing through life. One of the reason that One Thing works so well - is that idea of the video is that 1D are performing their song through London. So you get all the absurd joy of an upbeat music video performance, but it feels real, because they are actually travelling through London on a bus performing.

There are so many perfect moments in this video: Harry’s ridiculous cheesyness at the beginning, Zayn with the Hijabi, Niall busking, Louis looking on while Zayn is busking and sort of taking charge, all the beautiful heartbreaking connection and charm on the bus. Even Liam’s going blank as someone takes a picture with him - is capturing an importat aspect of who he is. The framework that they were performing, allowed all these moments to come out that felt very real.

Kiss You: Glorious high energy ridiculousness. The simple concept of tribute to Elvis movies works really well - working with the unrealness of filming makes the video feel grounded in a paradoxical way. One of the reasons I like music videos is that they need to be based on an idea that can be executed in such a short space of time. And that’s what I think

What Makes You Beautiful: Is the WMYB music video actually good? maybe not. There’s some really ridiculous cross fade editing and nothing about it is particularly interesting. But it doesn’t matter, because I love it ever so much. There’s so much joy from their performances - and they’re wearing really ridiculous trousers.

Plus the ocean is in it lots and I haven’t been for a swim for almost five months and I haven’t seen a body of water larger than a duck pond for longer. Joy and a sense of place is enough for a music video.

Little Things: Sweet, sincere, naturalistic and effective. It’s very simple and simple is hard. But everything about it (except the song) works.

Best Song Ever: Such an absurd music video - but heaps of fun and that’s all that really matters. Obviously Marcel and Veronica alone would be enough, but there is a lot of other joy to be had here, they interact with each other - and there’s synchroised dancing.

(A small side note, I hadn’t realised that it was filmed in a synagogue, until Ben mentioned it recently on a day that was definitely not hte anniversary of it being filmed. And I couldn’t stop thinking about it when watching, because it’s so obvious. And there are all sorts of ways that the space doesn’t feel like an office, but a set pretending to be an office. It doesn’t really matter in this video, because it’s supposed to be absurd, but Ben is really, really bad at sense of place in his videos).

Story of My Life: This is an excellent concept for a music video - it’s simple enough that it can be explored in four minutes, but it is interesting. There’s an incredible behind the scene team that recreated houses from the 1990s, and those sequences really work for me. The space they sing in also looks really cool and interesting, in a way that fits with the theme of the video. Despite these strengths, it also invented 1D standing in a line, singing, but not interacting while being filmed from below, which is the curse of later 1D music videos. (I absolutely get the appeal of 1D members having bits by themselves, and therefore making filming less intense for all involved, but why then choose such a terrible way for them to come together again?)

Live While We’re Young: Watching the treatment has really brought out the weakness of this video to me. The frolicking is fun - the whole video is super high energy and full of joy, but where are they and why? The video is just too clean, both literally and figureatively, to make the fun these people in their late teens and early twenties are supposedly having seem real.

Drag Me Down: The concept behind the video is amusingly basic (’the opposite of being dragged down is going into space!’), but the video itself mostly works. The setting is more than interesting enough to sustain 3 minutes and elevent seconds of 1D members existing in it. And Harry and the robot is actively good.

You & I: I’ve never quite understood the vitriol directed at this video. It’s quite drab and not actively good, but there’s interaction between 1D members and the British seaside in bleak weather is a sense of place. (Here’s getting even more controversial. I’ve no idea why people call this plagerism. Using the same special effect is hardly plagerism - and music videos as a genre involve a lot of using ideas.

Perfect: I struggled with where to place this, because there’s a lot of good moments: the interview, Liam and Louis messing around, Harry and Harry L. And there should be a sense of space. But ultimately the inexplicable decision to film in black and white really brings this video down for me. As far as I can tell the only reason it was done that way to make it look pretty. And I have a real thing about filmakers choosing aesthetics in a way that undermines what they’re actually trying to do. If it had felt more real and grounded this video could have so easily captured the cooped up feeling of luxury - and the ways you cope in it that the song mentions. But instead it’s just a series of aesthetically chosen snippets - and then people singing in a line for no reason.

Night Changes: This video is at least a couple of places higher than it should be, because of the incadescent hammy charm of Harry’s performance. Also because the fact that Niall wants to kill you at least makes his segment interesting. But I will say that I think the depiction of y/n ends up being quite misogynist, particularly because the video makes her everywoman. She’s ridiculously passive thorughout each scenario, not just being led around by 1D members on the date itself, but also doing nothing while Niall is on fire. Then her judgements are absurdly shallow - blaming Zayn for her ex being an asshole and Niall for being set on fire (although if she’s just using it as excuse to escape that’s legit)

History: This video is also a struggle - because the footage is really good and the present day performance is really bad. In the end I dropped it down the list, because of the way it squandered potential and how easy it would be to make a better version of this video.

Gotta Be You: In a lot of ways Gotta Be You isn’t bad it’s just boring with some very odd serious faces. But I can never unsee Liam rending at his trousers after singing ‘what a mess I made upon your innocence’ - and the video has to take responsibility for that.

Midnight Memories: This video is an abomination - trying for joy and a sense of place and failing spectacularly at both. I have written a whole post about everything that is wrong with Midnight Memories. And the only thing I’d like to add is: ‘Stop assuming that women owe you attention Niall’.

Steal My Girl: So mostly this is just a mediocre video. There’s no emotional core to it. There’s no real sense of place - and the attempts at surrealism are super basic. But it would be a lot higher up (because there’s a lot of bad 1D videos), if it wasn’t for the depiction of what is supposed to be Masai culture.

That video mostly depicts performers in that desert. Ballet Dancers, marching bands, Sumo Wrestlers, rhythmic gymnasts and mimes. These are all people who are performing in this video in a way they perform for a living. To include a depiction of Masai people in that context, is to reduce Masai culture to a performance for white people.

I think it’s also really importat that the Masai are presumably black American extras dressed up to look like Masai, while everyone else from ballet dancers to Sumo wrestlers, are what they are performing. And I think you can really tell - particularly the difference between Zayn’s interaction with the Sumo wrestlers, and Niall’s interaction with the Masai. The Sumo wrestlers are depicted as people who are interacting with Zayn and have agency. (There may very well also be things Japanese people object to about the depiction of Sumo wrestlers! Obviously I’m not an expert in any of this. But I do think the difference between having people with knowledge, and having people dress up is very significant).

More than that, the whole idea of ‘bringing life to the desert’ is also a colonial idea. There is life in a desert - and there are people who have lived in the desert - the idea that the desert is lifeless and needs to be transformed by outsiders only makes sense for people who want to erasing existing life and claim it as their own.

One Way or Another Teenage Kicks: DAVID FUCKING CAMERON! JUST STANDING THERE SURROUNDED BY ONE DIRECTION MEMBERS! Even if you leave aside the current set of clusterfucks that David Cameron is directly responsible for, because they didn’t know about them (WHICH I DON’T!), austerity was killing people in 2013. David Cameron’s Tory governement relentlessly attacked poor and disabled people and made their lives worse. It’s shameful that any of them were prepared to be in a video with him. (There is also the larger issue of the way Comic Relief constructs ‘Africa’ and the white saviourism of this video, but the appearance of David Cameron’s smug face means I can’t concentrate enough to write about it).

#It says a lot about my love of writing about 1D related music videos #that I could have written this without wtachingn the music videos #and that I didn't #Anonymous

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indeliblymarred · 4 years

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It was just past 4 p.m. and it was starting to get colder and darker as the sun was descending toward the horizon. The sky had a light overcast that allowed for some sunlight which cast a gauzy haze over the cemetery. It felt dreamlike as Markus was walking through it, his footsteps softened by the fresh snow, further making the present moment feel unreal. He was in a half-daze himself. His mental processes had been working overtime nonstop in the past few weeks and for the first time in that period, he was allowing his mind to go blank. To simply observe the grave stones around him and not think about them or anything else.

Of course, as soon as he spotted Carl’s name on his headstone, his cranium biocomponents began whirring as his thoughts began whirling once again. It was a tall headstone, just as tall as he was, made of blank black granite with his name and dates inscribed in the upper right side. It was very... plain. Far too plain for a renowned artist like Carl Manfred. Markus recalled that only a month ago, he had found his father looking through a website catalog for headstones and they briefly talked about it. Carl was frustrated with the process of it all and deciding the symbolism that he wanted to convey, not to mention the utter morbidity of it all. So he decided to hold off on the decision for a while longer, not knowing that within a month he would be dead and unable to make that decision. It likely went to Leo and it showed.

He slowed as he approached the grave stone and stopped before it, looking pensively at his reflection on its shiny black surface. He felt unworthy to even be allowed to see himself in the man’s marker. No one should be able to, Carl was a man unlike any other and he deserved a headstone that set him apart from the rest. Though, perhaps in its lack of adornment as most other grave stones had, it did exactly that. It still didn’t do enough justice to the artistic nature of his father’s life, that much Markus held fast. He folded his hands in front of him and let his mismatched eyes run down the tribute to his father’s life, from the dusting of snow on its top to the freshly dug lot below with the white blanket covering it. Carl’s body was just six feet down from him now, but he just felt alone here.

He had seen in movies and read in books about people going to visit graves of loved ones to talk to them, despite the lack of presence of said loved one. Most of them did so for spiritual reasons, believing that their loved one’s soul could hear them from somewhere. Markus was under no such delusion as Carl hadn’t been either and taught him as such. Yet still, he felt like this was the closest he could come to speaking to his best friend again. Carl was no longer of this earth on any plane of existence, but perhaps speaking to the grave stone as if there was could offer some consolidation for him.

“I miss you, Carl,” he spoke in just above a whisper. “You can’t know how much I miss you.” For the first time since that night, his voice was wavering and strained with distress. The only intense emotion he’d allowed himself to feel since the night Carl died was anger. It was the only one that could be wielded effectively---grief and sadness were not, so he tucked those away so tightly and deeply until he could no longer feel them. “I can’t believe I never knew how good I had it. Most of the Androids in Jericho have been so abused and neglected, they don’t even know what being cared for feels like. And I barely knew what being abused and neglected felt like until this week. Until I lost you, because you never let me felt like that.”

One side of his face twitched when he remembered the first year and a wry smile pulled at his mouth before he opened it, “Well, maybe a bit that first year, but never, ever to the extent that I’ve seen done to others. You would never be so cruel. And you were never rude again after those first couple years. From then, on it was bliss. And I never got to thank you for that... for giving me such a good life.” His metaphorical heart swelled as he recalled all the hours they spent playing chess together, working on his art, watching documentaries, and discussing the ever evolving topic of human nature. Markus would give anything to have just one more day like that. He might even walk away from the entire revolution if such a thing was promised to him. But that was not possible, no matter how much he wished it was, and yet still he wished in spite of its implausibility. Perhaps the most human example of him.

“I wish you were here to help me decide what to do,” he murmured, eyes lowering and then closing. “So many lives depend on my decisions right now, and I don’t know that I’m making the right ones.” His eyes opened again. “You were my only anchor to the rest of humanity, Carl. Everything I learned, I learned through you. You taught me how to value justice, fairness, and empathy. You taught me well, but... I don’t know that I was the best student. I don’t think you would approve of everything I’ve had to do up to this point.” He blinked and saw a split second memory of shooting the fleeing guard at Stratford Tower. Another blink showed a glimpse of the violence and carnage at Capitol Hill. He felt a low vibrating hum to the right of his left ear.

“But you also told me many times that you can’t please everyone and that I shouldn’t try to. There will always be detractors, you said, and to just keep doing what I feel is right.” He exhaled a long sigh. “I wish I knew what that was right now... because sometimes I wonder whether you would be one of my detractors.” His brows drew together and his bottom lip trembled some and he raised his eyes to his reflection again, staring into that pathetically doleful face of his. Something twinged deep within his skull and he shook his head. “Freedom is sweet, but it’s scary. And sometimes I wish I didn’t have it, that I was still at your side and taking orders, not having to think and act for myself. Because so far, it seems I’ve caused more damage than good with my freedom.

“I believe that we had to fight back,” he continued as his voice got more strained, like a wire quivering as it’s strung taut, “because the last time I decided to endure rather than fight back, you paid the ultimate price. Maybe if I had defended myself right away, you would still be here. But now that I’m fighting back, we’re being slaughtered across the nation. Maybe even all over the world.” Suddenly a high-pitched frequency shot through his head and he gasped, holding his temples with his hands. It was painful, actually painful. He fell to his knees before Carl’s grave and groaned as the signals in his cranium converged and amplified. It felt like his skull was splitting from within. Two wire ends that had been severed were slowly and painfully fusing together again, springing tears to his eyes.

Not just tears out of pain, but out of pure emotion as they suddenly swelled within him once again, breathing in cold air but feeling intense warmth within him. Markus threw his head back and gasped, his vision being blinded with tears of despair, of grief, of love, of hope, and of joy---all the things he had barely felt since the night of Carl’s death. Emotions he had numbed himself to in order to never feel that pain again, but here he was, feeling it. And it was overwhelming. Bowing his head with fists pressed into the ground, he wept hard over Carl’s grave, his tears creating craters in the snow where they landed. It was painful... but also relieving. All this time, he felt so hollow, unable to close the void inside of him. So he just got used to feeling empty, to feeling numb.

As stifling as it was, it helped him in that time. He could think clearly and quickly, didn’t have to grapple with emotions when making decisions, or feel much regret over the necessary evils he’d committed. As painful as it was to feel all of it now, it was like seeing color again after becoming blind to it. It was like inhaling a breath after holding it for ages. The sun felt warm on his face again, the chirping of the birds was sounded like music again, and even the chill of the snow around his fingers was somehow pleasant. Markus pressed his face into the snow and exhaled in a shudder before drawing in again, needing the cold air to cool his overheating system.

That is when the question that he’d grappled with the most emerged into his thoughts after being suppressed for so long. It was the question he wanted answered most out of all of them, including any about how to go about the revolution. He slammed his fist against the ground before pushing himself back up, rearing his head up to look at his crumpled face in the granite’s reflection.

“Are you proud of me?” he asked weakly as more tears spilled down his cheeks. “Please... I need to know. Please, Carl, tell me.” His face tightened into itself as he considered how foolish a request it was to ask of a grave. He would never get that answer. Just as he never got to tell Carl thank you. Just as he never got to say goodbye. Some things would never be said, some answers would never be known, and we all have to live with that. And so will Markus. It is an ineffably human thing.

His hand brushed over a rock at the base of the headstone as he was clearing the snow from it. Blinking away the rest of his tears, he took up the rock and examined its one jagged, pointed edge. Blue and green eyes rose to the blank black granite and shone with artistic muse. Stone in hand, he drew it across the granite and saw the pale white streak it left. For the first time in weeks, a genuine smile spread across his face as he went to work, digging the rock into the granite and scratching an image into it. It was exhilarating, like how he felt when he painted that picture for Carl on the day he died, but even more intense. The energy that filled him as he engraved was unlike anything he’d felt before. He didn’t feel this before he became deviant because he was still only a machine, and he hadn’t felt it since becoming deviant because his emotions had been stunted. Now, he was fully AWAKE.

It was only five minutes till he declared the work finished and stood back to admire it. Etched across the black granite was Carl’s face in remarkable realism, lines carefully engraved to depict his wrinkles and scraping to make the shading. Carl’s face was wistful, the same expression he wore when doing his paintings, a face that had been indelibly etched in Markus’ head. Now this was a headstone worthy of Carl Manfred.

“What the fuck did you do?” demanded an unpleasantly familiar voice and Markus turned to see Leo standing several feet away, his face twisted with horror and revulsion. “What did you do to my dad’s grave, you bastard?”

“I improved upon its interpretation,” stated Markus matter-of-factly, dropping the stone to rid himself of the temptation. “That’s what your father says art is supposed to do.”

“You desecrated his grave!” he cried, but didn’t dare come any closer. “That’s a crime!”

“I am a crime.” Markus took a step toward Leo and the other took a few paces backward.

“Don’t you come near me, deviant,” he said, raising his finger. “I’ll call the cops.” Markus stopped advancing and smiled slightly, then replied, “Because they would be able to get here faster than I could get you? Because that worked out so well the last time?” The man continued backing away before he turned and started running, but not far before Markus grabbed the hood of his coat and yanked him over. “Not so fast.”

“Please don’t kill me, Markus,” said Leo in a small voice and he cringed away from him. “Please.” The Android rose one eyebrow before releasing the hood and Leo dropped to the ground and stayed there, too scared to try to retreat again. Markus tilted his head as he watched the young man cower before him. Even having power over someone like this was giving him more intense feelings of satisfaction. How lovely.

“You’re lucky you’re your father’s son,” said Markus before bending down and lifting Leo by his hood again, bringing him to his feet as the man continued cowering. He held him by his front collar then, forcing Leo to look into the wide mismatched eyes boring into his. “No, Leo, I’m not going to kill you. I’m not like you.” He leaned in closer as his eyes glinted with malice. “I’m worse.”

Markus released Leo, who trembled backwards before falling atop his father’s grave, staring up at the Andriod with terror. The deviant leader’s face returned to neutral as he turned away and began walking toward the cemetery’s exit. No more time to waste. There were big plans to be made, big guns to be loaded, and big dreams to fight for.

At last, Markus was FULLY ALIVE.

#xx. I THINK THEREFORE I AM ( markus )#trustinginthelight #drabble-tbt #xx. HEADCANON ( markus )#long post //#long post tw #I TAGGED IT SO Y'ALL CAN'T COMPLAIN #anyway this is my reply to all of you #idk if i'll be able to write any more after this lmaoo #anyway #sb: hey does markus get more peaceful when he gets his emotions back #me: LMAO NO HE GETS MORE DANGEROUS

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hell-heron · 5 years

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Stories/books/legends/movies you would like to see adapted to a musical?

WOW I love you you know?? Okay, let's go. I dont know if youre the same anon who asked me about the TCoMC musical adaptations but I'm answering that in a few days when I have a PC and can provide links. So

- Othello. It would be so perfectly adapted, think about the angsty solos that would come from it! Technically a couple ones already exist, but I don't like them very much from what I saw, they feel too modernized and altered, whereas Othello is a very straightforward, raw and genuine story the way it is.

- Jerusalem Delivered, late 16th century epic poem by Torquato Tasso about the first crusade. Obviously it could not be very faithful, but I think something really great could be done with the many love triangles going on and the many angsty monologues that happen - this man has such a talent for raw emotion, you would not believe. My favorite arc is the completely unrealized love story that is the epitome of enemies to lovers, between a Christian knight and a Muslim warrior princess, that can only be consummated in death because he accidentally kills her in a duel mistaking her for a man. She has an existential crisis and asks to be baptized (I know, I know, it was the 16th century man) in an heartwrenchingly beautiful scene that was obviously destroyed by the only movie that exists on the subject, and then appears to her beloved when he is understandably breaking down to tell him he has to live to earn his spot in heaven because only there they will be able to love each other. "Enemies to lovers is when the other person stole the last banana and you're annoyed with them" my ass.

- The Nonexistent Knight. This would be a wackier, Dave Malloy-style thing. It's a novel by iconic Italian writer Italo Calvino that is technically set during the war between Franks and Moors for the liberation of Spain,but actually a funny, wacky exploration of what it means to exist and the senselessness of labels. The story is about a knight, Agilulfo, who is actually just a suit of armor animated by pure willpower, which was allowed to become a knight after he saved a "maiden" from "rape". However a young knight reveals this woman is actually his mother: and as the rescue of a non-virgin woman is worth some honors but not a full knighthood (I know, I know, but its part of the deconstruction thing) so our Agilulfo must go on an adventure to prove this woman was indeed a maiden and therefore earn his knighthood. Subplots and shenanigans ensue.

- Another one that could obviously never be so faithful and I would end up trash-talking if it actually happened but: Dostoevskij's The Idiot. Everything that happens in it is a drama goldmine, and it has such a beautiful, tender philosophy. It would be awesome.

- Also tbh I really wish we could get the parts of War ad Peace that weren't in Great Comet? I feel like anythin focused on Natasha suffers from the fact se as such an unuque inner voice that can't come across in an adaptation. The whole Marya/Nikolai/Sonya/Dolokhov etc. love triangle would be awesome.

- I don't know if it would fit but dark rock opera Macbeth?

- PARADISE LOST. Please do not shame me about how attractive I find Milton's Satan. I would be 200% more productive if a rousing "The mind is its own place" rock ballad was available to me

- To end on a much trashier note: Shadowunters. And I need to say no more (No actually bc I want to shame myself I'll tell you I wrote an hypotetical song for it in my teens. It was a duet between Maryse and Jace

- Oh since I got patriotic in this ask, not a new musical but: Romeo et Juliette production set in the 1860s, where the families are opposite factions in the conflict on whether Verona should belong to Austria or Italy. Pretty please??

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alicescripts · 6 years

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Live show: Los Angeles, California

On October 30, we are releasing the Alice Isn’t Dead novel, a complete reimagining of the story from the ground up. It is a standalone thriller novel for anyone looking for a scary page-turner, whether they’ve heard this podcast or not. Available for preorder now. And preordering helps authors out tremendously, so please consider it. Thanks so much!

Hi, this is Joseph Fink. What you’re about to hear is the live Alice Isn’t Dead performance at the Largo in Los Angeles on April 5, 2018. This live episode was not any material from the podcast, but instead was a standalone show focused on the weird and interesting sites and places of LA. It was an incredible night, and thank you to those who came out to see it. Enjoy the show.

Oh. I’m sorry, I uh, I didn’t expect um, I-I didn’t know that anybody would be listening. [clears throat] OK. Um, when you tell a story, you should expect an audience but sometimes I don’t think about that. I just tell the story the same way I breathe, just move life in an out of my body. I suppose you could listen if you want.

My name is Keisha. I’m a truck driver. It’s weird isn’t it the-the way say our jobs as though they were an identity rather than a thing we do for money. I mean do you think that outside of capitalism we’d confuse our self image with what pays the bills? [chuckles] Sorry. I-I got away from myself. Story not polemic, right.

I became a truck driver because, well, that-that’s a long one. I thought my wife alice was dead. But she isn’t dead. And she’s out there somewhere on the highways and back roads, and I’m trying to find her. Just driving my truck around and around looking for her. That’s who I am really. I am the one that looks for Alice. And Alice is the one who isn’t dead, but isn’t here.

I was in Los Angeles. All downtowns are the same downtown, they are landscapes built for the facilitation of money and business without thought to he human experience. And we are tiny to these monuments and that we are allowed to pass among them is a privilege, not a right. Still each downtown bears some mark of its city. The LA downtown, despite surface similarities, could not be mistaken for New York or Chicago, it’s too eclectic. It’s too strange in its architecture. LA is, is much more than movies but – movies infuse everything because movies are the only history the city will acknowledge. The history of the indigenous people, the history of the Latino people, these are set aside. The city looked at all the people that had already come and thought, ah! A blank slate! And so they did not draw from the Gabrielino or the Chumash or even the Spanish in their missions, they drew from the movies. From the foundational idea that LA could and should be anywhere in the world. So the style of LA is every style, each house and each neighborhood built in wildly different ways. It’s art deco and Spanish stucco and mid-century modern.

In Brand Park, out in Glendale, there’s this enormous house turned public library that is less actual Middle Eastern and more movie Middle Eastern, built by the wealthy white man whose garden that park once was. There’s nowhere in LA that feels stylistically of one piece, and it is that incoherence that provides the coherence of the city.

You see, I’ve come to town on your word, Alice. Only it wasn’t your word direct of course just – whispers through a network of safe houses and gatekeepers, those living on the fringe of society who can be trusted with the kinds of messages we send back and forth. But who knows how the messages mutate mouth to mouth? But still, even through this mutilation of intent, I can hear your voice, like a heartbeat, your skin and bone.

It’s Tanya in Omaha, a friend of the cause, who reaches out to me on my radio to finally lay your words to rest. There’s a meeting in Los Angeles, you’ve heard. You don’t know the exact nature and purpose of this meeting, no one seems to, but the word is that it’s a meeting of those at the heart of it, the ones that are making the real choices, that shape every decision that we think we freely make. So I’ve come to town to find that meeting. I will find this meeting and then… shit, I don’t know. And then I will decide what to do next.

I’m faced with a mystery that’s so much bigger than myself that it sits like an uneven weight in my chest. I feel off balance, so I take comfort in smaller mysteries, ones that don’t matter at all. In Pico-Robertson, a five minute walk from six different synagogues, and a celebrity chef kosher Mexican restaurant called Mexikosher, is a strange synagogue with no windows. The architecture is unmistakable. Modern LA Jewish has a certain look and this place has it, right down to the arches designed to look like the two tablets of the Commandments. Except this synagogue is several stories tall, and with no visible entrance.

What does it mean to blend in? What-what does it mean to, to disguise, what does it mean to stick out? These are intrinsically Jewish questions. A people that has, throughout over a thousand years of oppression, variously done all three. And this way too the building is very Jewish. Of course it is not a synagogue. It is, in fact, 40 oil wells hidden inside a soundproofed structure designed to look like a synagogue. And it is not the only one, just five minutes down the road is an office building with no doors and no windows, that one is 50 wells.

The machinery of our system is not hidden below us, it is disguised among us. Rocks that are actually utility boxes, trees that are cell towers. That vacant house that we walk by day after day, the one with the opaque windows? Actually a maintenance entrance for the metro.

Which buildings are real and which ones are disguises? It doesn’t matter, I suppose. But that’s what makes me enjoy considering it.

Sylvia’s here too. She’s really come a long way from the teenage runaway I first discovered on the side of a highway. Did you tell her about the secret meeting, Alice? She is both more vulnerable and far braver than either of us, did you send her to this place? [sighs] We reunited on one of the vacant cul-de-sacs near LAX, where neighborhoods that had once been an airport’s buffer zone were now demolished.

“Heya,” Sylvia said, as though we were meeting at the continental breakfast at a hotel, not on a dark empty street after months of not seeing each other. “Hey yourself,” I said. “Why did you come?” She shrugged, performed nonchalance. “Same reason as you, I guess.”

Well then I guess neither of us knew. Because I had no idea why I was there, I didn’t even knew who was meeting in this town, let’s start with that. OK what what organization, what secret brotherhood, what ancient cabal that influences world events is now sitting around the table in some sterile backroom in this sunny, thirsty city?

I could have asked Sylvia what she knew about it, but I didn’t. I felt like I would be following a script you gave to me, Alice, and I am not interested in your dictating my actions. So instead I asked her: “How you been?” And she took a long slow breath that was more answer than words could ever be. “[sighs] I’ve been good,” she said. “You know, trying my best, finding places to sleep, finding a friendly face on the other side of a meal.” She shrugged. “I guess it’s the same struggle for everyone. But those of us who live on the road, everything is amplified, you know?” I do know. Goddammit, I know.

I wasn’t even sure where in the region this meeting might be held. So I drove out east to the desert where the mountains looked like set backdrops, unreal and perfect, taking up half the sky. Palm Springs, the town killed by cheap plane tickets. Why drive two hours from the city for the weekend, when it’s possible to weekend in Honolulu or Costa Rica instead? Then, having died, Palm Springs hung on just long enough for everything dated about it to become vintage cool. Now it’s back, a mid-century modern paradise of steel beams and rock walls and that style of beautiful, but featureless wooden security fence that only exists in Southern California. Old motels not updated since the heyday of the 50’s now are converted to hip resorts with (farmed) table food and upscale tiki bars. The city is an Instagram feed. Which is both snark and compliment, because it is a genuinely beautiful place.

I wondered the town, feeling that there was something worth finding there, but unsure where it would be hidden. I visited Elvis’ Honeymoon Hideaway, a garish airplane of a house with giant wings of a roof looming at the end of a cul-de-sac, providing kitsch to the dwindling population of Elvis enthusiasts.

That house was built on sale for 9 million a few years back and is now reduced to an easy 4, so make those owners an offer and you too could own a house that is listed as a historical site. A place where Elvis had sex a few times. It probably doesn’t have a dishwasher, though, so… Just south of Cathedral City, I saw a sign that looked familiar. It’s this huge neon pink elephant, mouth wide in mid-laugh, splashing herself. A pink elephant carwash. The sign has a twin sister in Seattle, that one is famous. It was weird running into her in the desert too. It was like driving through the suburbs and suddenly finding out that 150 years ago, they also built an Eiffel tower in Pomona.

I stopped the car and I just gawked up at her. It made me so happy. And then, looking down from the sign, the horror came to me. I saw someone walking towards me with a shuffle that I recognized. Like their legs had no muscle or bone but were heavy sacks of meat attached to their body. One dead leg thrust forward after another, and as the man came close, he looked up and I went from dread suspicion to horrible certainty.

He’s one of those creatures that I call Thistle men. Sagging human faces hung limply on skulls that are the wrong shape. Yellow teeth, yellow eyes. They are serial murderers hunting the back roads of our highway systems, and one of them was here.

He made eye contact with me. He laughed, a sound like hanging knives clattering together. And then he was gone. The neon elephant’s face no longer seemed friendly. I mean it, too, seemed to be laughing.

Sylvia and I, we split up for the day. We just watched the traffic and people, looking for suspicious crowds, folks that don’t fit in with the tourists and the beautiful people working as baristas just for now. Of course we don’t know what those suspicious crowds would even look like. Grey men in grey suits going greyly about the tedious business of running the world? Or, like the Thistle men, monsters of hideous aspect?

I reached out to my friend Lynn who works as a dispatcher at my trucking company. She and I became friends soon after I started. She doesn’t take shit, I don’t give shit, we get along that way. “Any unusual moments in Los Angeles?” I said. “Strange shipments, unsual routings, anything?” “You know I can’t tell you that,” she said. “What if I said please?” I said. She snorted into the phone. [chuckles] “In that case, sure,” she said. “I always like you when I’m polite, let me see what I can find.”

Sylvia and I saw nothing of note that day. We ate together at a Korean barbeque place built into the dome of what had once been a restaurant shaped like a hat. “This is nice,” she said towards the end of the dinner. It was, it really was.

You know, a city is defined by its people but it’s haunted by its ruins. There are no cities without vacant lots, the skeletons of buildings, ample evidence of disaster and failure. Our eyes slide past them because they tell a different story about our city than the one we wanna hear. A story in which all of this could slip away in a moment. Even though we know this fact is true, even more for Los Angeles than most cities. This city will some day be shaken to the ground, or burned, or covered over with mud, or drowned by the rising sea or strangled by draught. The question is, as it is for each of us in our personal lives, not if it will die but how.

I like to go and look at these broken places where the refuse of recent history shows. It allows me to look at a region differently, maybe see what I was missing. And if a secret meeting was gonna be hidden here, where but in the cracks? So I peer in. I search.

Above the Pacific Coast highway in the hills of Malibu that are so beautiful when they aren’t falling or burning, is what remains of a house. That house was a mansion built in the 50’s and burned in the 80’s when its location finally caught up to it. There’s now a popular hike that goes right into the ruins, so any walker can go see this place where people lived as recently as 30 years ago. A ruin shouldn’t be so new. A Roman home destroyed by a volcano, well OK you know. A medieval castle, sure. Even an old stone settler’s hut, 100 years old, alright, OK that make sense. But a house that once held a television and a shower? It feels wrong to walk on the foundation, stepping over the bases of walls and around the chimney. It was a home not so long ago, and now it is transformed. Transformation is uncomfortable, and easily mistaken for an ending.

In Griffith Park, I met with Sylvia in the old zoo. All the animal enclosures are still there, and you can sit in them and look at where once caged animals lived, and now wild animals are free to come and go.

Sylvia and I sat in the artificial caves, trying to imagine what the purpose of this secret meeting was. Sure, generally the word was out that it was a meeting of those in control in order to further control us, but specifics were, as they often are, lacking. Sylvia asked me: “Do you feel like this story is too convenient?” And I had no way to respond but nodding. “But we still have to look for it, right?” she said. And I nodded again.

As the sun moved behind the hills, it got very cold. She said, “Yeah”. And I said, “Yeah.” And neither one of us meant it.

Gentrification comes for us all. Let’s leave aside for a moment the many issues of endangered communities and rocketing prices, and consider just two cases of what people will look past to get access to LA property. December 6, 1959, in the hills just below Griffith Park, a doctor lived with his wife in a mansion with an incredible view. The Christmas tree was up for the season, wrapped gifts underneath. At 4:30 in the morning, the doctor got out of bed, retrieved a ball-peen hammer and murdered his wife with it. Then he attacked his daughter, though she survived. And then he took a handful of pills and was dead by the time police arrived.

That house stood empty ever since, still filled with the family’s things: the furniture, the tree, wrapped gifts underneath. A prime house in a prime LA area, but who would live in a house where such horror had happened? For 60 years, no one. Well, the house sold for 2.2 million last year. A view of the city, just above those (-) [0:21:06]. Well at this point, who wouldn’t take some hauntings and a terrible bloody past for that?

Meanwhile the Cecil Hotel in Hollywood, site of an inordinate number of murders and suicides, where the Night Stalker lived in the 80’s while causing terror across the region, where just a few years back, a body floated in the water tank for days before being discovered, is now the boutique Stay on Main. A rebranding for this rebranded city. Even our murders are getting gentrified.

Maybe it’s me. I don’t know, maybe I just don’t like change. Change is often wonderful. But we should definitely think hard about what we are changing into, and what that change might mean. We should just spend a little time thinking about that.

[long break]

Still searching for this meeting. I went up the coast, over the Grade and down toward Axnard, not as cool as Ventura or as rich as Camarillo. Oxnard gets by. As I waited to hear from Lynn, I walked on Silver Strand, just watching the surfers. Many, even now in the winter. Nothing will keep them out of those frigid Alaskan currents. I headed south to Channel Island harbor. It was absolutely peaceful on its shore. The ocean is chattering and restless, the harbor sleeps. It does not stir except to send crumbling waves in the wake of the few boats in and out.

During my walk, I saw a rowboat. Old, practically falling apart. Something about the occupants of the rowboat made me look closer. Stooped figures in awkward postures that looked painful. One of them turned to face me, though the boat was 60 feet offshore, and even at that distance, I could see. Two Thistle men, floating in a rowboat in the (Sound).

“Ooooooooooooooooo,” one of them shouted at me in a gentle high-pitched voice. “Ffffffffffffffffffffffffffff.” There was something that looked a lot like a human arm poking out over the rim of the rowboat.

I returned to my truck. Not everything is my problem.

Worship is a feeling so all-encompassing that it can be easy to misunderstand from outside. Take the worship of Santa Muerte, a Mexican (folk) saint of death, likely a legacy of pre-Colombian devotion, dressed in the clothes of the colonizing religion. The church has spent a long time trying to suppress her worship, but of course the church has never been good at actually suppressing much, and devotion to Santa Muerte has only spread in recent times.

Like many figures of death, she represents healing and well-being. Religion often lies in embracing contradiction. Those on the outside, they see this as a weakness but those on the inside recognize it as strength. The temple of Santa Muerte in Los Angeles is just down on Melrose Avenue, sharing a building, as everything in LA does now, with a weed store. It is a one-room shrine established by a husband and wife, full of life-sized skeletons bearing (-) [0:25:04]. It would be easy as an outsider to default to one’s own associations with skeletons and come to one’s own emotional conclusions, but it is healthier to embrace the contradiction of these symbols of death. That, after all, physically hold us up for as long as we live. To deny Santa Muerte is to deny our own bodies.

Meanwhile on the other end of the spectrum, the Bob Baker Marionette Theater carries a different kind of worship: devotion to a performance style that time has left behind. And the outside of the building is – let’s face it, it’s creepy. Because, like skeletons, puppets have taken on a certain cultural connotation in the wider world. But we should try to see it from the inside, as the earnest expression of performance and joy.

Mm mm. No I can’t. Mm mm, I ju- not with puppets. Skeletons, fine. Loose-skinned monsters from whatever world, well I’ve deal with them, but puppets? Mm mm.

Lynn got back to me. “You didn’t hear this from me,” she said. “That goes without saying,” I said. “No it doesn’t,” she responded, “because I just told you that. Now, there have been some shipments that don’t belong to any company. Or the company info is missing from them, I can’t understand what I’m looking that. They certainly don’t hold up to any scrutiny at all, so I don’t think that they were expecting scrutiny. These things stand out so bad that they might as well be big red arrows pointing at a location in Los Angeles.”

It was late afternoon. Sylvia was asleep in the back of the truck’s cab. I lowered my voice. “Where?” She told me. I looked at Sylvia, knowing she would want me to wake her up, to take her with me. But I didn’t. I let her sleep. I went alone. Better that one of us survive.

I went where Lynn told me: up La Cienega, past a mall and a hospital. I came to the address she gave me. An unassuming place. If it weren’t for the brightly lit shine, I might not have even spotted it from the street. I went through the gates. There was a courtyard there, deserted. The air was still and there was no sound, but the stillness felt temporary, like the pause after an act of violence before anyone can get over their shock and react. I continued through the doors to a dark room. Not the grand hall I might have expected for a meeting like this, but a cozy place. Rows of theater seats. A stage draped in red curtains, from which a speaker stood addressing the crowd. There was music. Was that music? Or was it the shifting and squirming of inhuman bodies? Because there was something inhuman in this place, I could feel it. Not the people in the seats, they seemed completely human. Looking up at the person speaking, following the narrative, and slowly having information dawn on them.

In fact, the people in the seats did not at all seem like the kind of people I would expect at a meeting like this. Were these the powerful, the wicked? Were these the unseen hands ushering us to disaster? Looks can be deceiving. Everything can be deceiving, up to and including the truth, but no. I did not think that these were monsters, I thought they were people like me. People lured to the spot for the same reason I had been, because the story of the meeting had been a very good story. It played exactly into how I had thought the world works. It fed my suspicions and it led me to this place. And I think the same is true for every person in that room. They were there, like I was there, looking for a good story. But why were they led there? Hmm? If the meeting itself was a decoy, then what was the true purpose of this moment?

And that’s when I saw them. Lingering in the shadows at the edges of the crowd. Men with faces that sagged. Flesh that peeled. Yellow teeth, yellow eyes. Thistle men ringed the crowd. (Wools to sheep, parks to bunnies). Hunters. Prey. Did the people in their seats notice? Did they look into the shadows and see the inhuman eyes peering back at them, did they smell the breath of the Thistle men, like mildew, like soil? A smell of rot from deep within, cold lungs, did they hear the occasional laugh coming from a gurgling broken throat? Did they look beside them at seats that were empty and think, wasn’t someone here just moments ago? Or was there? But surely there wasn’t, because where could they have gone? And then the shadows at the edges of the crowd, the people that had once sat in those seats, were led into a place from which they could never return.

I understood. A simple plan: tell an irresistible story. A story that is exactly what all of us fighting Thistle might want to hear. That we were right all along. That the world really is against us in so simple and easy a way that the culprits could all meet in one room. And we would come to hear that story, and then Thistle would take us. Why hunt when instead they could lure?

Standing in the door to that hall of horrors, I saw the faces of the Thistle men as they turned and noticed. One gave a yelp and started to lope towards me and I fled. Where the courtyard had been empty, it was now packed shoulder to shoulder full of men with loose faces and eyes that went yellow at the edges and wet lips hiding sharp teeth. They were waiting for the crowd inside. Hungry creatures preparing to feed on any person that stepped out of that theater. I pushed into and past them, using their momentary surprise to escape, and I ran until my throat was dry and ragged, through that courtyard and out to where the lights of the strip club across the way flashed back and forth, back and forth, and then into my car and then onto the maze of freeways where it is so easy to disappear.

I kept my eye glued on the mirrors, but no one was chasing me. Somewhere behind me, an audience of innocents remained in Thistle’s trap, and I wouldn’t help them. I couldn’t.

Instead, I went back to the truck. Sylvia was still asleep in the cot. I sat in the driver’s seat. I was exhausted. The sun had fully set, and I allowed my eyelids to drift downwards. “Hi,” said Sylvia. She was in the passenger’s seat turned sideways towards me. It was light again. I don’t know how long I’d slept, I know I didn’t dream. There are small mercies in life, I guess. “Did you find out anything?” Sylvia said. I looked in her eyes. She’s so young. It wasn’t right and it wasn’t fair that she was out here like me on this labyrinth of roads and rest stops. But that’s just what it was. For her and for me and for so many others.

And she looked at me with trust. And I looked right back and I said, “I didn’t find anything. I don’t think the meeting is even real. Let’s get out of here.” Sylvia yawned, she stretched, she nodded. “Yeah OK,” she said. “Might as well. Too bad this turned out to be nothin’.” “Too bad,” I said.

So now here I am telling the story from just outside of Ashland, Oregon. Los Angeles is hundreds of miles behind me now. It isn’t far enough.

I love you, Alice. I stayed alive another day. You do the same, OK? OK.

[applause]

Joseph Fink: Thank you to everyone who came out for our Largo show. We will be back in two weeks with chapter 1 of our third and final season. This show would not be possible without our Patreon supporters. Such as the incredible Ethel Morgan, the indomitable Lilith Newman, the victorious Chris Jensen, and the electrifying Melissa (Lumm).

If you would like to join these folks in helping us make this show, please check out patreon.com/aliceisntdead, where you can get rewards like director’s commentary on every episode, live video streams with the cast and crew, bonus episodes, and more.

Thanks for listening, and see you soon.

#alice isn't dead #alice isn't dead transcripts #live at the largo #live shows #los angeles california #they changed the name as soon as i had posted this #so i changed the name of the post too #long post

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medifox631 · 3 years

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POSTAL 2

Postal 2 is a first person shooter from 2003. It uses the Unreal Warfare (2.5) engine. It was developed by Running With Scissors but its distribution has been cloudy. This is the original (EU) 2003 release of Postal 2 Addeddate 2020-04-04 10:26:33 Identifier postal2202004 Scanner Internet Archive HTML5 Uploader 1.6.4.

GOOGLE DRIVE – CRACKED – FREE DOWNLOAD. GOOGLE DRIVE – CRACKED – FREE DOWNLOADTITLE: Out of Space (ALI213)DEVELOPER: Behold StudiosPUBLISHER: Behold StudiosRELEASE DATE: 24 Apr, 2019GENRE: Strategy, Casual, Indie FILE SIZE: 200 MBOut of Space is a LOCAL and ONLINE co-op multiplayer game. Out of Space (ALI213)DEVELOPER: Behold. Out of Space is a LOCAL and ONLINE co-op multiplayer game about living together in a house in space. You and your friends are about to move into a house in space, where you will have to deal with a deadly alien infestation and face the challenges of building a sustainable spaceship, all to make your new place feel as cozy as home! The Prodigy are an English electronic dance music band from Braintree, Essex, formed in 1990 by keyboardist and songwriter Liam Howlett. The line-up of the band has included MC and vocalist Maxim, dancer and vocalist Keith Flint (until his death in March 2019), dancer and live keyboardist Leeroy Thornhill (who left to pursue a solo career in 1999), and dancer and vocalist Sharky (1990-1991). Out of space download. Download Out of Space ISO Game PC. Direct Links, Google Drive, Torrent, Download ISO game PC.

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Once considered to be the most violent game in existence.

Postal 2 is one of the most controversial games that has ever been made, mostly due to its explicit violence. People don’t mind if computer games have hundreds of Orks burnt alive, but when you give a flame thrower to a character and allow him to walk the streets, then people kick up a fuss.

The Obvious But Flawed Comparison To GTA

If you have never played or seen Postal 2, then you may think that running around shooting people and burning them is just like one of the later GTA games, but you are very wrong. For example, you could throw a petrol bomb into a crowd and watch them burn and scream. You will then see the scarred and burnt survivors try to crawl away in pain. It is just not the sort of thing you will see in other games.

It’s Raining Fiery Cats

The aim of the game is to get through seven days worth of chores. Every day you have a different set of things to do, and they are all innocent. For example, on the first day you have to pick up milk. You can walk into the shop, wait in the queue, and buy the milk. Or, you can whip out a machine gun, mow down the people in the queue, fight the Korean shop owner with has a shotgun, and take the milk from the shelf. Once you complete the last day of chores, hell breaks loose and it starts raining cats.

The Comedy And Social Commentary Is Clever

If you are a little older, there are quite a few jokes you can appreciate. For example, when you vote, the paper is askew so you cannot really see whom you are voting for. There are terrorists hiding in the caves, and there is a gun that allows you to shoot cats. The local butcher serves human meat, and when you try to get people to sign a petition, they tell you to go away with curse words. One of the bosses has the outline of male genitalia, there is an anti-gaming rally outside the developer of the games office, and one of the movies listed on the movie board for the cinema is “Sperms of Endearment.”

Governments Have Banned This Game

This game doesn’t encourage people to harm others; it is just a way of getting involved with a little mindless violence in a familiar setting. It is a form of fantasy fulfilment, especially when you find people that look like your boss or the guy that bullied you in school. Due to its violent nature, you will not see any kids in this game, but you also see very little sexually explicit content, just a few sexy ladies and guys here and there.

Pros

Change location and the cops and enemies will leave you alone

The level of violence is fantastic

A very varied game that has lots to offer

The game is littered with clever comedy and cynicism

It is as easy or as difficult as you make it

A genuinely innovative open world environment

Cons

The graphics do not hold up against modern graphics

Postal 2 Reddit

Once considered to be the most violent game in existence.

The Obvious But Flawed Comparison To GTA

Postal 2 Apocalypse Weekend

It’s Raining Fiery Cats

The aim of the game is to get through seven days worth of chores. Every day you have a different set of things to do, and they are all innocent. Tentacle girl strokes guy. For example, on the first day you have to pick up milk. You can walk into the shop, wait in the queue, and buy the milk. Or, you can whip out a machine gun, mow down the people in the queue, fight the Korean shop owner with has a shotgun, and take the milk from the shelf. Once you complete the last day of chores, hell breaks loose and it starts raining cats.

The Comedy And Social Commentary Is Clever

Postal 2 Share The Pain

Governments Have Banned This Game

Boson x download. Pros

Change location and the cops and enemies will leave you alone

The level of violence is fantastic

A very varied game that has lots to offer

The game is littered with clever comedy and cynicism

It is as easy or as difficult as you make it

A genuinely innovative open world environment

Postal 2 Cheats

Cons

The graphics do not hold up against modern graphics

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baguettes-save-lives · 6 years

Text

I just watched OMG (the shortfilm) and I have some thoughts. I’m really late to it, but here is my immediate brain vomit.

Okay this is one of the most phenomenal things I’ve ever watched. The characters are all so. real. None of them are forced or over-written. The subtle references to their backstories make you want to learn more about them but also give you just enough information to construct opinions. For instance, Gus’s reference to his dad’s textile factory shows that he came from a fairly steady background, but always had a small degree of peril hanging over the family - what if the factory closes? What if they go bankrupt? (I know I’m reading wayyy too much into this.) Joe is clearly painted as an old school friend of Gus’s, which explains the resentment and jealousy on Gus’s part over them both liking Kristen.

The writing is phenomenal. Totally amazing. The dialogue is perfect and imperfect, so realistic and genuinely thought provoking. It brings into question a whole number of themes and debates, and the fact that Joe can’t describe what he saw any further than ‘I saw God’ is a really interesting commentary on faith and critics of it. Gus is the perfect example of a critic of faith, choosing to believe in facts and solid descriptions, even if it means casting out people he may have loved. Kristen seems like she probably does believe it, but not because she has faith in Joe, more because she loves him and thinks the world of him. Joe has complete faith, and is totally calm throughout his testimony. He clearly knows exactly what he saw, and when he says that it wasn't speaking ‘our language’, it could be referencing The Holy Spirit, when it came after Christ’s death. (Again, possibly reading too much into this, BUT) Just as Christ ‘disappeared’ (was crucified) and then reappeared with The Good News, so Joe ‘disappears’ from his friends lives - seemingly fairly suddenly, as Kristen was unclear whether he still liked her - and returns with the news that he saw God. It’s a really interesting comparison, which I’m presuming was intentional. Either way, it’s an amazing piece of work.

The score. Holy shit. It’s perfect. There’s not much I have to say, except it keeps an eerie, unreal atmosphere going throughout, which makes you really think about the events of the story. It feels unearthly, as if Joe has experienced things that can’t be comprehended by anyone on Earth. It’s just really really good. Also that little theme running through it DAMN BB

Also, side note, I think in the video they show of Joe in space (although I’m not 100% and I might just have overthought this and made it up) his codename is ‘Icarus 9′. Icarus, as many people know, is a character in greek mythology of a boy who flew to close to the sun on wax wings, which melted, sending him plummeting to an early grave while his father flew on. I feel like Gus is symbolic of the father, taking one big risk (living with Kristen and working in a movie theatre) so that he could ultimately have a better life. Unfortunately, the person most dear to him is taken from him (by Joe) and he loses almost everything. Joe is almost like Icarus, as he physically was closer to the sun than most, being in space and all, but also speaking openly about a frankly unbelievable experience, which could have turned everyone against him. In this version, however (in my mind, at least), our metaphorical Icarus survives his flight, going on to potentially do great things for the world, and it’s the faithless father who is left behind to pick up the pieces. There’s something else there about Icarus having total faith in his wings like Joe had in his high-flying story, but I sense that may be enough analysis for that anyway. I won’t even try to get into the number 9.

Right. The acting. The fucking acting. Do I need to say anything. Having only seen these actors in a comedy setting, it was a massive shock to see them in something so deep. Joe was totally phenomenal. Brian was amazing, Denise was TOTALLY stunning. All of the characters were really relatable, and the love triangle seemed really realistic and believable. Just. Wow. Yes. Very good.

And finally, the ending. Ah, the open-ended ending. It was thought provoking, it was emotional, it was really, really deep. Joe’s voice as he asked Kristen if everything was alright seemed a little off, as if he could feel something coming. Gus’s departure threw the relationship into question, Kristen calling him selfish hinted that she had indeed experienced unrequited love and her look of regret showed how deeply she still felt for Joe. Joe’s ambiguous ending summed up the whole film for me - Ambiguous. Did he see God again? Did he see something else? Was he simply looking at the stars, where he had been so recently? Did he die? Was he being possessed? That’s what I love about open-ended endings. There is no answer. It reminded me of the true unknowns, space itself, dark matter, things like that, but also other people’s thoughts and points of view and perceptions. It allows for speculation. The comical hat that Joe wore and Kristen’s glasses reminded me of the ridiculous comedies we make of space, little green men and big-headed-slime people, how much it’s romanticized and written about and fictionalized, when really it’s nothing. Quite literal nothingness, an almost complete vacuum of pure un-knowledge, which could hold everything or nothing and no one knows and no one will ever know all of what is out there. It’s the biggest and last mystery - almost like the existence of God.

So yeah. I liked it.

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trouvelle · 7 years

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Dreams

A/N: I apologize in advance for any mistakes and errors in the story. Fandom: Detective Conan/Case Closed Pairing: Hattori Heiji/Kazuha Toyama Rating: G Genre/Tags: Soulmates AU Summary: His mother told him that the dreams would go away, that the dreams would stop. They never did. The dreams never stopped coming.

How can you miss someone you've never met?

Heiji didn't know how that works, all he knew was that it felt like there's an enormous, painful hole in his chest that refused to go away. It got worse when he woke up, when the dreams were still fresh in his mind, branded into his memories.

He had been having them for as long as he could remember, dreams filled with an wide eyed child about the same age, full of images of a life that wasn't his. Now, Heiji wasn't an unhappy child by any means—he's pretty loud and rowdy—but the only time he felt truly happy, was when he was asleep. When he was awake, it just felt wrong.

Like something was missing.

Someone.

Some nights the dreams didn't come to him and those were the best and worst nights of all. They were the best because he wasn't haunted by visions of big emerald eyes, free to actually dream like a normal person, but also the worst because somehow the emptiness grew even larger with the absence and eventually engulfed him, suffocating him.

He'd only ever told one person about his dreams. When he was younger he hadn't realized that other people don't dream of the same person over and over and over. That it's not normal. His parents had dismissed it as an imaginary friend, someone Heiji had created in his mind.

He had believed it too for a while.

But there were things that made him doubt.

He never saw his imaginary friend during daytime, to start with. He never played with her, not even in his dreams. It was more like catching glimpses through the window to someone else's life. He had seen her play with other children but never with Heiji. It was very odd.

The only face he seemed to be able to remember upon waking up was that one girl—chubby cheeks and pig tails and skinny limbs—no matter how many people she encountered and interacted with in his dream.

He was expecting to grow out of his dreams just like his mother said he would. One day, she had said, he wouldn't need his imaginary friend anymore and the dreams would stop all on their own.

They never did.

It didn't matter how many friends Heiji had, how many parties he went to, how much he had grown. They never went away. Always the same person, the same girl.

Heiji thought that maybe he's mad.

When he was younger, Heiji wanted to be friends with her. The moments when he watched her, playing with her friends in his dreams, she always looked like she had fun.

She's a bit prickly, not liking to be the butt of anyone's jokes, pleasantly overbearing and easily overwrought, but she never seemed to bear a grudge about it. Just a quick thump and whump on the arm ("Kazuha-chan, that hurts!" whined one of the other kids—freckles and braids) and then they're back to running around like idiots.

No, Heiji wasn't lonely. He had friends at school. He played over at their houses. But there was just something about this girl that had him intrigued. It was strange because she didn't really seem the type Heiji would hang out with normally (all of his other friends were, well, boys. No girls allowed!). He did play around but he seemed equally happy to be quiet.

He liked reading. He liked playing police and thieves. He couldn't sit through any movies without any talking—unless it's a mystery movie. He often wondered whether this meant he and the girl in his dreams couldn't be friends if, you know, the girl was real, because people always said opposites attract.

And Kazuha was just as loud and as boisterous Heiji was.

That thought made him quite sad. Not that he was turned down (which did make him sad for a day or so but he got over it quick enough) but that she wouldn't like him. Heiji liked her a lot, but he didn't want to change himself just for her to like him. That was not Heiji's way of ninja. Heiji was not going to change for anyone. Instead he'd just have to bother the dream girl until she likes Heiji back. That'd definitely work.

Once Heiji grew older he realized more and more how childish that sounded. 'Bother her until she likes me back'? He sounded like a kid who was plotting to pull his friends' pigtails to make them notice him.

...which actually seemed like a fantastic idea. Although there's a slight problem now. Kazuha no longer wore her hair in pigtails. She had been keeping it in a ponytail ever since she joined her school's youth cheerleading club and started taking Aikido lessons. He wondered if pulling on a ponytail would have the same effects as pulling on pigtails.

Stupid, he thought. He's nine. He's grown up enough and observed enough to realize that if he wanted to be Kazuha's friend—best friend—he needed to tow a fine line between playful banter and genuine annoyance. You know. If Kazuha existed. That's what he'd do.

He was twelve when he finally found out where Kazuha probably lived. He was reading the last chapter of one of his Ellery Queen book in his father's office when he was practically forced to put it down and greet his father's guest. The tall stern looking uncle called Ginshiro was once his father's partner, and Heiji's eyes shone bright when he heard that he was previously the Chief Detective of their police district. That was, before she eagerly took a transfer to Interpol, and was allocated to London afterwards.

They were chatting, probably updating each other about their current lives. He eagerly revealed that he had a child, pulled out a photo and showed it to Heiji’s father. Now, Heiji was a tall and growing boy. From his height, he could make out the silhouette of a girl in a school attire that wasn’t commonly seen in Japan. Heiji watched Kazuha often enough to immediately recognize that the outfit in the photo was in fact, her school uniform!

Before Heiji could ask if he could see the photo as well, the topic of their conversation was already changed, and the photo was shoved back into Uncle Ginshiro’s wallet.

—

He was seventeen when he first realized he's in love with the girl and he felt sick. He knew because she was all he had ever thought about (aside from cases and kendo and school lessons, of course. He may be a detective but he's still in high school).

He had no choice at night but even during the day he found himself remembering what movie Kazuha had been watching. He thought about Kazuha's seemingly soft hair and toned arms. He daydreamed about Kazuha's wide eyes and how much wider they would go if Heiji surprised her with a kiss.

A kiss. Sharing a kiss with Kazuha.

Kazuha, who wasn't real.

Heiji woke up then.

That night before he went to bed, he put his hands over his burning cheeks. He had fallen for someone who didn't even exist. It's abnormal. He had imagined a person and then fixated on them like some kind of creep and that was absolutely messed up whichever way you think about it.

He spent the next two years of his life dating anyone who asked him out. The relationships never lasted. He could admit to himself that he wasn't really interested in any of them the way he should be. They were pretty, he enjoyed their company and everything was cool but something just wasn't right. Never seemed to be enough. So bad they weren't even relationships anymore.

It felt like he was searching desperately anyone to fill the hole in his chest, to take away the ache he felt when he woke up and realized once again that the girl he was in love with didn't even exist.

Then Kazuha's mother died. Heiji's dreams were filled with heart-wrenching sobs so painful that he wished he could reach out and comfort Kazuha. She never cried during the day, only at night.

Heiji watched day after day, night after night, as she withdrew into her shell. He heard her calling out for her mother, repeating it until it sounded weird. He wanted so much to hug and kiss Kazuha's pain away.

Heiji tried to stop sleeping after that.

It wasn't what he wanted anyway. Heiji wanted love. Seeing Kazuha mourn over her mother made him realize that he should make the most of the time he had. He didn't want to waste time on meaningless relationships anymore. He didn't want to think about some unreal person anymore.

He knew that until he got rid of his feelings for Kazuha, he wouldn't be able to move on. The only problem was that he simply didn't know how. But he knew for sure that he couldn't just spend the rest of his life hung up on a figment of his imagination.

He had tried dating other people and that hadn't worked. He even tried not sleeping for three days in order to break the cycle. It turned out to be a terrible idea. He had collapsed in class, raving about imaginary people around one beaming, glowing one, and unfairness, and the same wide eyes and ponytail.

He was not doing that again in a hurry. He didn't know what else to do except burying himself in studying and friends and hoping it all goes away eventually.

So that was exactly what he did. He continued dreaming and waited and hoped always.

Hattori Heiji was now twenty one, a third year criminology student. He had been solving even more cases than he used to in high school, sometimes competing with Kudo Shinichi, but most of the time teaming up with him instead. His grades were impressive, as per normal, but things had been such a constant and he really needed more activities aside from studying and solving cases and kendo.

So when his their other friend (Kuroba Kaito, excellent Mechanical Engineering student and magician, also a prankster) told him one of their friends (Hondou Eisuke, surprisingly competent future Environmental Engineer) had had to leave his part-time job due to university commitments and was looking for a replacement, Heiji jumped at the chance. A job's after all. A young man’s gotta save up as much money as he could.

And that was how Heiji ended up working at the one and only invention shop which sold geeky gadgets in the city. The owners, one very lovely but unique old man called Agasa (who in fact, was Shinichi's neighbor) and one girl who turned out to be Shiho (Shinichi's sarcastic girl BFF nonetheless).

Eisuke was one of the clumsiest person Heiji had ever met so how any of the gadgets in this shop survived was a mystery to Heiji. Or at least, how Professor Agasa was able to invent and fix and refix and refix. Heiji figured he was probably the most patient old man alive.

Then Shinichi started helping out at the invention shop too.

It's pretty dull, he'll be honest. There's rarely any customers, so Heiji did more homework than he did actual shop assisting. And solved more and more cases.

Once, Shinichi showed up with dark, dark circles under his eyes. He looked miserable and horrible. Heiji guessed he must've looked just as miserable and horrible when he avoided sleeping back then.

"Haven't been sleepin' well?" Heiji teased him.

Shinichi rolled his eyes and stifled a yawn. "Ugh. You wouldn't understand, Hattori."

“Oh? Try me.”

—

A few months after Heiji started working that he met the girl in his dreams.

It was just another day. No customers, no rain, no cases, no particularly good food. He had already cleaned the place so there was nothing to do but try to work on his recently assigned essay.

The bell rang. Someone walked in and Heiji looked up from his papers to give the customary greeting of the shop when the words died in his throat.

Standing before him, the all too familiar emerald eyes already scanning the gadgets lined up in the shop, is the girl from Heiji's dreams. She's a little taller than Heiji was expecting, less than five inches below Heiji's own height, but he would recognize that face anywhere. The girl didn't seem to notice him, just going about her business in the shop, eyes darting back and forth at the racks, seemingly at random.

Heiji felt like his brain had stopped.

She's not an imaginary friend. She's never just an imaginary friend. She's real.

Finally she plucked something out from one of the compartments—it might be Agasa's voice-changing bow tie or whatever, Heiji really wasn't paying attention to it at all, he was too engrossed in observing her features, her expression—and headed to the register. She looked up. Their eyes met. Time seemed to stop.

There's a momentary widening of the girl's eyes but then, nothing. She didn't recognize Heiji. Heiji didn't know how he felt about that.

Relieved? Scared? Excited? Worried?

Heiji rang up her purchase and mumbled his way through the sale—he didn't remember what he said, he was just so fixated on the girl's face—and then she's gone, just like that, walking out of the store and Heiji's life.

Of course this was the moment Kaito chose to waltz through the door, loudly announcing his entrance with a 'Tadaa!'. Heiji didn't even greet him back with his usual 'Yo!".

"Hattori, you okay?" Kaito said, in an uncharacteristic show of concern as he approached the counter. "You look like you've just seen a ghost."

"Yeah." Heiji says distractedly. "Fine. Just tired."

He's not fine.

The girl of his dreams did exist. She's real. And had a life that apparently did not include weird stalker dreams of Heiji.

Oh God.

Is he insane? Is he a psychic or something?

Oh God.

Kaito gave him a skeptical look. "You don't look fine. You look like shit."

Then Shinichi and Agasa walked out from the stockroom (seriously, why was everyone coming at once? Heiji simply wanted to freak out in peace goddammit).

"Kaito-kun!" Agasa called. "It's nice to see you! You haven't been over in so long!"

"Hakase!" Kaito shouted back, immediately draping himself over the elderly man. Both Kaito and Shinichi indulged Agasa's need to bestow affection on them at this time. At least it meant they weren't paying attention to him.

His mind was all over the place, trying to comprehend what just happened. He didn't even know where to begin.

It made him dizzy. He looked around and saw Shinichi watching him like a hawk, his expression inscrutable. He had his detective mode expression on. Heiji gave him a weak grin but Shinichi didn't return it—he just made some kind of humming noise and turned around.

Maybe I should wait till I get home ta think about this, Heiji decided.

He'd never told anyone about Kazuha and with good reasons. He's not going to let anyone find out now.

—

The rest of his shift was a torture. Time had dragged on like a limping athlete crossing a finish line and he's all but ready to weep tears of joy by the time the end had rolled round. He hadn't thought about Kazuha at all, but he had thought about not thinking about Kazuha more than he'd care to admit. It's frightening.

Kazuha.

His mind raced. How was this even possible? Honestly he almost preferred the idea that he was a creep with an imaginary friend than this—that he'd been dreaming of a real person.

He knew Kazuha so well. How she looked when she smiled, what would make her cry, the ticks that show she's nervous. While he's glad he's not the kind of psycho that made up a person down to those fine details, it's just weird to know these things about a person you've never ever met. Or supposedly just never met. Whatever.

Maybe it wouldn't have been so weird if Kazuha had shown any sign of knowing him but she hadn't. She hadn't so much as blinked in Heiji's direction, let alone gasped or anything that might have shown that Heiji wasn't alone in this madness.

Could Kazuha had been dreaming about him too all this time? Isn’t it possible, if Heiji had been dreaming of the girl? Maybe it could be true the other way around too. Heiji needed to know. It's so tiring, carrying a secret alone. Besides, Heiji was not the type to sit around passively when opportunities are handed to him.

That's it, he decided, I have to find her.

Worst case scenario Kazuha thought he's crazy and well, if that happens it's probably because Heiji really was going crazy.

Best case scenario Heiji gained a friend.

Friend or not, he just really wanted to see her up close in the flesh. He decided everything was worth the risk.

—

Three days later Heiji was again at work and there's still no sign of Kazuha. In addition, Heiji had gotten no further on his quest to find something more concrete about her. His dreams were full of Kazuha's smiles (which were very beautiful and Heiji appreciated them, honestly) but nothing that might lead to them meeting again.

There were notebooks in his vision but he didn't have time to read them. Files. A lecture hall. Is Kazuha a student here then? But there were plenty of universities in Tokyo so that's not much help at all.

Heiji groaned and let his head fall with a thump onto the desk. Why hadn't he paid more attention to his dreams before? Maybe he could have even found Kazuha way before this, if he'd actually entertained the thought of Kazuha being a real person.

Then the bell on the door rang.

Heiji lifted his head from the counter. Time seemed to slow. There, standing in the doorway, framed by the sunlight cascading into the shop was Kazuha. The girl of his dreams. For a second Heiji thought he might still be dreaming.

Time seemed to slow.

"Kazuha?" He whispered.

Shock passed over Kazuha's face.

"Do you know me?" She asked slowly. Heiji mentally kicked himself because this was not how he wanted to reveal this. Maybe after he talked to Kazuha like a normal person instead.

"I…I know you."

"From school?" Kazuha looked curious now. Her eyes did that slight widening thing that Heiji had seen them do in his dreams when Kazuha was interested in something and, holy moly, she's even cuter in person.

He should answer. He wanted to but the words kept getting stuck in his throat. His palms were sweating. His face might be sweating. He's pretty sure he looked gross and all that cycles round his brain was this is not how I wanted this ta go, this is not how I planned this!

"Not really." He managed to say.

"Oh. I'm sorry, I'm not good with faces." Kazuha shrugged apologetically but Heiji was sure she's acting. The Kazuha he knew from his dreams was very good at remembering faces—and acting. Did this mean the Kazuha in front of him is not his Kazuha? Or was she lying?

"Yes you are." He accused mindlessly. "Ya've always been good at it."

Then he realized what he had just said.

Kazuha was looking at him like he's a particularly interesting puzzle, which was one better than disgust or panic but there's nothing deeper than Heiji can read. Blank.

"Why do I hate the swings in the playground?"

"Huh?"

"Why do I hate the swings in the playground?" Kazuha repeated calmly.

He looked up at Kazuha, who was waiting patiently on for Heiji's answer. She seemed calm. A little defiant even. And… nervous?

Could it be? Could it be that Heiji wasn't alone in this?

"Your mom," Remembering a certain word he used to hear in his dreams, a person who used to be the main source of her great distress, he answered carefully, knowing full well that this was a particularly touchy subject for her. "You and your mom used to play on the swings all the time. You don't hate them, they just remind you too much of her."

Kazuha's expression didn't change, but something in her eyes did. Heiji felt his heart sink in his chest. Had he read the whole situation wrong?

"I've never told anyone that." Kazuha said grimly.

"I know."

"You dream of me."

And it wasn't a question.

Heiji stepped out from behind the counter. It took two seconds to cross the distance between them and gather Kazuha up in his arms. She smelled good. Kazuha's arms wrapped around Heiji and he let out a sigh of relief.

"You're real." He murmured. "Thank god."

"Of course I'm real, aho." Kazuha muttered into Heiji's collarbone. "Just took me a bit longer to find you than I'd anticipated that's all."

There's a million things Heiji wanted to say to that—how did Kazuha know he's not a figment of her imagination? How long had she been looking?

He wanted to apologize for not looking for her himself. He wanted to thank Kazuha for doing the searching for both of them. But of all he wanted to tell her—

"I love ya."

Kazuha sighed. "I know. You say it a lot, you know?"

Heiji smirked. He picked Kazuha up by the waist and swung her around in the store, barely missing an electronic flying surfboard.

"Aho! Watch it!" Kazuha squeaked. Heiji grinned again, but stopped.

"I love ya." He said. He waited for a response, marvelling as he did so at the gorgeous woman he had in his arms. Kazuha looked like she's trying very hard to suppress a smile.

"I'm not saying it." Kazuha whined grumpily. "You've still got to make it up to me for not believing I was real and making me do all the work."

"How long will that take?" Heiji asked, aghast.

Beamed she did. "Forever. You better start now.”

—

Heiji introduced Kazuha to everyone as his childhood friend who had just recently moved back to Japan from London. Which was... extremely true no matter how they think of it, because it turned out that she had also been having dreams of Heiji for so long since she could remember.

Also, the dreams had stopped.

But he no longer felt empty when he woke up. In fact, on some mornings he woke up to find her curled up next to him, and he dared not kid—it was one of the best feelings ever.

But he hated it when they had morning classes, which meant his joyful morning routine had to be ruined by waking her up.

His joyful morning routine included re-draping their sheets over her bare shoulders and just.. watching her sleep and breathe. Dreams or not it didn't matter, he loved watching Kazuha.

And waking her up could get disastrous. She was an excellent actress (no worries, he's an excellent detective who could see through her masks) and she could be very very persuasive. And most of the time, he ended up back in bed with her.

Not now though, he was sitting in a coffee shop with Shinichi and Kaito, both of whom were successfully persuaded into having blind dates with Kazuha and her two friends. Heiji grumbled. Not that he minded hanging out with his buddies and girlfriend-slash-childhood friend-slash-girl of his dreams. But he wanted to have more alone time with her, seriously.

Kazuha didn't keep them waiting for too long. And when she stepped into the coffee shop with two other girls who looked disturbingly alike (one with side fringes called Mouri Ran, and the other with slightly messier hair by the name of Nakamori Aoko) that Heiji thought were twins had it not been for his sharp observation skills, he saw Shinichi’s and Kaito's eyes went as wide as saucer plates.

At first Heiji didn't think of it much. He merely smirked when he saw his friends rendered speechless, probably striked by their beauty or something.

Kazuha's hotter, he thought to himself.

But when he heard Kaito and Shinichi murmuring what sounded like "Oh God." and "She's real?” simultaneously from his left and right, realization dawned on him.

"Yeah," Heiji whispered, a grin on his face as he turned to watch Kazuha, who was ordering her food. He could finally talk about the dreams he used to have.

"They're real."

29 notes · View notes

mxdmax · 7 years

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Follow Forever (2k Followers)

So recently I reached over 2,000 followers pretty quick. So I’m going to list my favourite people here on TumbleWeed with a special message. Please don’t be upset if you’re not on this. I love my mutuals but I want this to be for those who’ve personally become much more than a mutual. So here we go (alphabetical):

@ajgemmell21o1 : Thank you for being here with me since pretty much the beginning. For letting me share my story with you as you did with me :) we aren’t super duper friends but you are more than just a mutual to me. Thank you for brightening up my life a little bit more with your existence on my dash!!

@ashy-le-mashy : Ash, Ashy Bear. What can I say? You girl are one beautiful and talented human being that I have been blessed to meet. All the struggles last year brought I am so glad I could be there just to lend a hand out to you. Thank you for wanting to get to know me, talking to me and just being the beautiful you that you are. I will always be here for you no matter what!! Keep doing what you are doing lovely. Because what you’re doing is spreading so much happiness into this world that we need more of. Life isn’t easy but you’re a fighter.

@asyasyakura : To this beautiful sister right here, Asalamu Alaykum! Thank you for always spreading smiles and positivity into my life. You are one of the cutest sister I’ve met and your smile just lights up my heart. May Allah continue to grant you ease and reward you for the good you are putting out into this awful world. May we meet one day in Jannah.

@bichaelwheeler : Thank you for our conversations and the cuteness that is your whole existence!! For calling me the moon that one time and making me smile when I didn’t feel like it on certain days. We don’t talk much anymore but you’ve made a stamp on my heart and I will always consider you such an amazing friend!!

@byeers : Liz, my lil donut. You are such a wonderful friend!! Thank you for allowing me into your life and just letting me be there for you whenever you were in a time of need or comfort. Not a lot of people would be so easy to let some stranger help them out. You are so talented, strong, beautiful and kind. Your writing ability astounds me. Your creativity that you’ve put out onto the internet that I’ve been able to read or view is a blessing. Your strength to push on through your struggles at home and school inspire me so much. Thank you for being my friend and for letting me into your life. I truly admire and love you.

@cherrysconesandtea : Jay. omgosh, Jay. You are one magical and adorable human being. Human? Hmm you seem more than that to me. I don’t know much about you personally but I do know you as a friend who’ve I’ve gotten to know about (interests ect). I can tell that you’ve been through a lot but you’ve allowed it to shape you into someone who is so full of kindness and caring towards others. This I admire so much. You create your own path, you push on through, you conquer the struggles this life offers. You are someone I admire greatly for just how you treat others. I love you so very much!!

@eggogorgon : Blake. Blakepedia and also Blaketopia (coming soon 2020). Thank you for sharing all of the memes, being a source for all the memes and just living your meme life. You have been the reason for so many laughs and smiles I have produced on this silly face of mine. I am in awe of your natural talents with this new found gif making. Your edits have me in awe. Never stop doing them!! Keep being the amazing you Blake :)

@elevnns : To the beautiful blue. Keep being the amazing you. Thank you for the multiple deep convos where we have been able to connect and share. Oh boy oh boy you are one tough cookie with a soft exterior and interior. With the right amount of tough in between to send the bad bouncing away. You’ve a lot to conquer still but I can see you pushing through. You are a grace that walk this earth. You don’t understand your overall beauty and softness that all of us else see but one day maybe you will, I hope so. Keep pushing on, keep being the strong and soft you :) I am always here for you, Oh and I expect to see you get over to hobbiton and send all of the pictures :’)

@flea-and-the-acrobat: Sam, HEY!!! Oh wow what can I say about you? Um ... just that you are flipping amazing!! I have been so blessed to have stumbled upon your existence in this world that is Tumblr. Wow. I love talking to you. There’s never a dull moment and you are such an interesting, uplifting and intriguing person. I love how excited and happy you get over things that are your passion. I’m always so eager and happy to talk to you when we are awake and online at the same time :D Never change the unique you!!

@fortheloveofeggos: Lauren omgosh. Honestly you are a blessing to see on my dash! I love you personality so much!! You are a walking and living aesthetic :) We aren’t very close in terms of talking and getting to know one another but you are a part of my life, you are my friend and someone I would miss if you ever just randomly disappeared. Thank you for always showing me kindness. Especially when I’m being silly and gushing over how amazing of a human being you are. I love you so so much :) keep being yourself. I love and admire how you keep trying different things with your hair and I love your style :D

@hothmess : Thank you for being the beautiful you :) I’ve loved being able to just talk with you whether it be about ST, Reylo, personal things ect. You’re worth so much more than how anyone has ever treated you. I honestly wish I could just see you in person and give you the biggest hug. I love how despite the past you’ve been able to push through the bad side of tumblr that’s been pushed onto you. I love how we could connect over such simple things. I admire your strength and how beautifully unique you are compared to others I have met on here. I wouldn’t want you any other way :)

@icywinchester: Keeley!!! Thank you for sticking around with me since the beginning :) yeah you’re blog has changed but I still love knowing and seeing you on my dash :D I do worry sometimes that you’re not feeling the happiest. I notice your posts and wonder. But you’ve shown me in different way just how you’re managing to just push on through life. I think you’re just one of the few people who just gets it. That despite life being sucky sometimes that there’s more out there to be admired and explored and living for. Maybe I am totally wrong and read wrong but I just get those vibes from you. Keep being the amazing and beautiful you lovely <3

@promiseleven: Oh hey there the beautiful Kyy!! Oh wow. I could go on and on about you :) but all in a good way of course. Honestly I want to just take you away from this cruel world, wrap you in a blanket, pop on a movie and protect you forever. You are such an adorable lil angel. There is none out there worthy enough of you and your golden heart. I love being able to talk to you and it’s been amazing having you as one of my friends :) I wish I could give you the world but that would never be enough for what you deserve.

@protectmike: Cait :) Ahhh the makeup queen who can do such beautiful art work on simply just her face!! Gosh you are naturally such a beautiful being but I love seeing even more of your personality and happiness come to life when you put on your makeup. I love the passion and joy it brings you. You are such a funny, caring and bright girl. I also want to whisk you away from everyone and protect you. You are deserving of much more than what you’ve been handed in life but I can’t ignore that the bad leads us to the good. Despite wanting to always protect you and never have you cry again. Thank you for giving me so many smiles and laughs. I love your stories and your cute accent!! Ahh you are such an amazing friend and I wish this year treats you better <3

@raesberri: RAE BEAR!! LOVE OF MY LIFE!! PRINCESS!!! AHHH!!! Thank you for being a blessing ot my whole entire flipping existence! I love you so so much :) You are such a cute little aesthetic muffin and I adore you with my whole heart. I love being able to message you and Reeda everyday. You’ve been a bright light in my life ever since I met you. One day I wish we can meet and I can give you all the hugs you deserve. There’s not enough words that exist to be able to type the gratitude and love I have for you. You are my best friend. You are so genuine and real and yet so unreal!! I love you so so much!!!

@reallylikeseggos: ALLI!!!!! The first time I saw you on my feed was because of your dang beautiful selfie! I can’t believe we’ve actually been able to talk and become friends. I thought you were just too cool for me :’) I love seeing yo uon my Tumblr and Insta. You are so funny!! I wouldn’t ever want you to change, you’re too precious :) I love you so much and I will always be here for you!!

@reedstrangerthings: REEDA! Wow I honestly don’t even know what to say. Out of literally everyone I’ve met no one has come close to how much you have touched my heart and helped me grow as a person. You have literally become my family and a part of my life on such a more meaningful level than just someone I spoke to on tumblr. I’m trying so hard not to cry while I write this. You’ve been there for me more than any of my friends ever in my life have. You’ve shared so much wisdom and love I can’t deal. I’ve learnt so much from you in such a short time. Because of you I have learnt, loved, grown and been able to make a life changing friend. You’ve opened up your arms and heart to me in such a selfless manner. The conversations I’ve had with you I can’t have with any other friend. You are such a beautiful person, inside and out. I can’t believe I’ve been able to find a genuine best friend and family member because of a TV show. You are my world <3 I will always cherish and love you. You will always be in my Dua’s. If we can’t meet in this Dunya, I hope we can meet in Jannah. I could write a whole book about you but I need to stop here before I ball my eyes out Wallah.

@shesavedus: syd!! Thank you for becoming my friend :) I love hearing about your passion for photography and bands. How they’ve shaped you into the beautiful being you are. I’ve never met a real life tumblr girl, living and walking aesthetic goals that literally everyone envies and says are ‘goals’. You pull of such a unique style but at the same time it’s just your own. I admire your care free personality and your creativity that just flows wherever you walk.

@spideymans: MARVIN :D omgosh!! Thank you for being an amazing friend!! Honestly never in a million years would I have thought we would actually talk and be friends. You’re iconic :) Thank you for teaching me about those gaining and shedding seasons if I remember correctly :’) !! I’ve learnt more about the Gym life from you than anyone else whose been a ‘gym enthusiast’. I can’t help but always admire one of your edits when I see them on my dash. They are beyond quality and talent. Overall you’re just an amazing and talented person. You’re such fun to talk to :) You deserve the followers you have and so much more!! Thank you fro being one of my closest friends :D

@strangehorcrux: SHELLY!! Ahh you’re such abeautiful and nurturing soul. I love you so much and thank you for all the beautiful pet pictures in the group chat :D I have to stop myself from jumping up and down every time you post a picture!! Thank you for being such an amazing person and a quality friend!! You’ve been quite the blessing to my dash and my life :)

@telekineticeggos: Tele!!! I cannot comprehend how someone is so adorable such as you are!! Not only that but the talent you have with your drawings :O I cannot fathom I know someone as beautiful and creative as you are whose able to make something as awesome as what you do!! That probably was confusing but in summary, WOW! Thank you for being in my life, for being my friend and being someone I’ve been able to get to know <3 I will always be there for you no matter what :)

@the-fifth-movement: Oh hey there <3 Thank you for getting to know me and letting me get to know you :D I know we’ve only recently started properly talking but I’ve had the blessing of you being on my dash for a while now and I have no regrets about that :D I love how you compliment me on a whole other level every time I post a photo :’) your kindness is something I admire and adore more than anything!! You are so unique and I love all your styles that fit what you are feeling no matter what day :D you honestly slay. You’re such a beautiful being!! I love you so very much! :D

@the-weirdo-on-maple-street: Em!! Thank you for being the first friend I have ever made here on Tumblr. I was shook™ at how kind you were to me from the get go. You are such a beautiful soul and it’s been a pleasure to get to know you and call you my friend :) you’re always there for everyone and I admire you for how open and loving you are just naturally!! Thank you for all you’ve done and helped and motivated with me. I will always be here to do the same for you!!

@themikewheelers: Oh Tori, my daughter. Yes you’ve said some very ... very weird things but I love you so very much. Your voice just makes me smile and I love hearing you rambling and talk about things. It can get quite interesting, sometimes disturbing but it’s quite the experience :’) Thank you for being an amazing girl. I also would like to steal you away from all the problems you face in this world. I can’t believe the disgusting things you go through due to other people in your life. You never ever ever ever deserve that! I don’t want anyone touching you unless it’s to give you a consensual hug. I love you bunches <3 I will always be here for you!!

#personal #I love you guys so very much!!

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discoveringjuls-blog · 5 years

Text

7 Sept - 17 Sept

Entering & experiencing your world with youI genuinely cannot believe I have the chance to fly half way across the world to see the love of my life. 7 Sept: Sitting on the plane for 10 hours wasn’t the best thing in the world, but knowing I was going to land and see you was such a blessing for me. I remember seeing you standing there and being kinda shy, but so so comfortable already. Driving from the airport to your house, catching up was genuinely the most amazing thing I have experienced in 7 months of not seeing you. When we got to your house, it felt so unreal to me that I was actually there. Meeting your parents for the first time was truly so special- they are amazing people. I will never be able to thank them enough for everyting they did for me. I remember that evening, just catching up & chilling. It was far too good to see you again.

8 Sept: This morning we took Kaia for a walk in the woods. I heard you play piano for the first time, and was truly amazed. I never knew you could play that well. It made my heart melt (just a little). We then went to the pet sotre to get dog food. After that, we went to Den Haag shopping centre and drove around for a while after that. Seeing Holland, in my opinion, was beyond unreal. After the morning went by and afternoon approached, we headed to the farm and saw so many animals. I was so comfortable with you by my side. We did so much on this day. Continuing further in the day, we took the scooter down to the beach and walked along the pier. The weather was crappy, but as long as I was with you, it could have been snowing & you still would’ve been the best view. This was also the evening I relaised you were also a super good cook. I really loved this day. I appreciated you so so much, and so thankful that you were willing to drive me around & allowed me to be a tourist.

9 Sept: This morning, you made us an omelette for breakfast & we sat outside and ate when it was done. You took to me to the see the Hoek van Holland. It reminded me of Sea Point Promenade, but on another level. Seeing all the World War II bunkers & trenches was a first. Walking along with you next to me made me feel so much better. We had a family lunch with your mom’s family & it was so lovely. We walked Kaia in the evening. Relaxing with you in the evenng, watching a movie & talking about everything is my new favourite night time routine. I love you so so so so so so so so so much!

10 Sept: Today we went to “Mini- Holland”, which I know isn’t the real name, but that’s how I remember it. It was so much fun seeing all the sights Holland has to offer, and you were the best tour guide anyone could have asked for. Afterwards, you treated me to a movie at Omniversum. It was the coolest place I have ever watched something before. Thank you so much for treating me & being to kind. 11 Sept: Let’s just say, this day was the buggest adventure yet. You took my on your grandfather’s boat, and although it was pretty cold, I had the most fun. Going the the canals, on the boat, in the rain was so interesting. Afterwards, we chilled in the boat & got warm again. On the way home, we stopped for a salmon roll, which was so delicious. Thank you for showing me these hidden gems. After getting home & throwing clothes in a bag, we headed to Akersloot. This is where the fun really began. After checking into our room (note: the first room - Chamagne suit), we headed down to the pool and chilled there for a while. We then headed back to the room, got dressed real quick, and went to a small supermarket to stock up on snacks for the night. After getting back from the shop, we got ready for dinner. Juls, it was such a treat & I am so gratefu for you. Thank you for being the most handsome date of the night. Spending time like this with you is so special & I wish we could do it more often. My heart misses you so much. After dinner, we headed back to the room & began to fill the bath. After chilling in the bath for a while, you tried the steam cabin, only to find out it wasn’t working. Between the people fixing the room and me laughing so so much, we were offered an upgrade (to a room with a working steam cabin). The Japanese suit was absolutely perfect. It was the most amaxing night. I don’t think I have ever had that much fun in my entire life, and I honestly believe nothing willl top that night, ever. Even though you broke the steam cabin (note: this was the second one), we still had the most romantic evening & I couldn’t have been happier. I was at my happiest. I love you so so much. Thank you for taking me to Akersloot.

12 Sept: Waking up to you this morning was so refreshing. Even though I was crazy to want to swim at 8am, you followed shortly. After our morning swim, we had a quick shower & headed back home. We took the bike to some shops to find a laptop charger (note: this was my fault because I broke it when I sat down). The sunset on this night was out of this world. We drove down to the pier & admired it for a while. 13 Sept: This morning, we chilled in bed for a while before walking down to fetch your van because they were busy putting stickers on it. Half way there, we caught a life with your dad. The van looked stunning & I was so proud of you for all the work you had done. You drove it home, where it was admired by your mom, dad, gran and granpa. I was so fortunate to meet them too! Once everyone was finished looking at the stickers, we headed to the Zoo for the day. This was the most chilled day in one of the biggest zoo’s I have ever seen. Thank you for taking me here. I never thought a zoo could be this stunning!

This is the letter I wrote to you half way through being in Holland: “I just felt like writing something to try and show you how much you mean to me. Even though it was a long 7 months of longing to see you, the wait was definitely worth every second. Arriving here last week, I have to admit I was nervous of things being different, but you definitely proved me wrong. I appreciate you showing me around your town and going out of your way to make me feel so so so welcome here, in less than a week. I honestly feel like I could have been here for years already. I am so glad we picked up where we left off, even better than the way we left off. I know it’s only been a week, but you have showed me and taught me things I never knew existed within myself. You have taught me to always looks for a reason to stay, and not to go. That means everything to me. It gives me the chills and melts my heart all at the same time. Since seeing you, I feel we have moved forward- and moving forward is the best feeling when experiencing it with you. You push me to feel so many things I have never felt before, and that’s really amazing for me. You make me scared because I am so used to having something bad happen, but you are genuinely too good to be true. Despite all my fears, I never have a doubt in my mind about you. You make me feel dafe, secure and comfortable all at the same time. Thinking about leaving you and this country breaks my heart into a billion pieces because I genuinely feel at home when I am with you. I know you like to live in the moment and experience all things at present, but I really want you to know that you are my future. Juls, I love you so much. You have filled my life with so much and I genuinely am so grateful I get to experience so many new adventures with you. I know I still have a few days here, but I just wanted you to know how much this whole adventure has meant to me. To see you and to see how you have grown as a person has made me the happiest I have ever been. PS. You drive me crazy, but I wouldn’t have it any other way!” 14 Sept 2018: Today we went to the most beautiful little town, Delft. This town was so so small, but I loved it so much. We walked up 100′s of stairs to get to the top of the prettiest cathedral’s I have ever seen. The view from the top was absolutely breath-taking, especially because it included you & I wouldn’t want to have anyone else with me, besides you. I love you. After climbing back down that narrow stair case, you took me inside one of the windmills. We both got ice-cream (which we never finished) that was so goooooood. You showed me all the skew towers and buildings. Today was so so good & I loved exploring with you. I could do this every day for the rest of my life. I appreciate you so so so much Juls. You’ll never understand how much you mean. 15 Sept 2018: Belguim was a treat. I never expected to be going here, but walking down the ‘shopping street; and seeing central station was so cool. Sitting outside that cathedral, having lunch & a smoke was so special. The view was unreal - it was just like a movie. I never know how to tell you how amazing you are. All the time we spend together is so special to me. During this time, I discover to many things about you and end up loving you even more. I am so lucky to have you. Even though I am so far away fron home, you make me feel so safe and secure. I really like that about you. Honestly, I never wanted to leave you. 16 Sept 2018: This was my last day before heading back to Cape Town (which I really wanted to avoid). Despite this being my last day, we still adventured all the way to Rotterdam. The food market so was well set up & going up the Euromast was defintely one of the best decisions we made. Seeing these places are so cool. I am so grateful to have explored so much in so little time. After getting home from Rotterdam, we changed, showered anf got ready for dinner. Let’s just say, it was the most amazing dinner I have ever had. I was so so so full, but it was so good so spend a chilled evening here with you before my flight tomorrow. I remember feeling so so sad on this night, but was so happy I had the chance to come and see you. After dinner, we walked, one last time, alomg the pier where you asked me to be your girl friend. I still remember responding “no” sarcastically, but inside my heart genuinely nearly stopped. I then said “yes, definitely” because I knew I had no doubts in my mind. You were the person I was waiting for, for so so long. You don’t know how much I love you, but i hope one day you’ll realise how amazing you have been for me and how much you mean to me. I wish I could put it into words, but there is just no way. I think I am more nervous now when I see you than I was the first night we met. You give my more than a million butterflies in my stomach & no one has ever ever ever made me feel the way you do. I am so in love with you and everyting you have given me. I love you so much my Juls. You are my whole entire world and everything beyond. 17 Sept 2018 Farewell Holland & you. Waking up early and driving to amsterdam was the most bitter sweet, but painful thing ever. I remember how beautiful the sunset was this morning. I remember getting out the car and you telling me how beautiful I looked. I rememeber sadly walking to my gate and feeling so hollow and empty inside. After what was the best week I have ever lived, I had to make the trip back home. I realllllllly wished you were coming with me, but i know you couldn’t. This became the worse day for me. Not knowing when I am going to see you again killed me so much, and it probably will until I see you again. My boy, thank you for the most incredible week ever. You made me feel so comfortable and truly at home every second I was in holland. Thank you for treating me like an absolutel princess and for being so kind, loving and caring towards me all the time. This week and a bit was priceless & so special. I will keep these memories so so so close to my heart & remember them for as long as I live. See you soo my angel baby. I adore you till the ends of the Earth. This is what I wrote on the plane: “Juls, I am sitting on the plane going through really shitty turbulence and thought I would take this time to write about these past few days. I know you hate long messages but this one is worth it, I promise. I was so nervous to meet your family, and even though you said they were chilled, I was still a bit scared. After meeting them and spending the last week and a bit together, I have realized that not only are they such lovely people but also could so easily be my second family. I will never be able to thank them enough for having me and for allowing me to stay there. Juls, I am also so happy to have met bother your mom and dad’s side of the family. For me, it’s really important to feel comfortable and I did. Juls, your business is going to do so well. I can see how happy you are and how proud you are of what you do. Just push through the hard times and the next few months because it will all be worth it, I promise. I am here, right by your side, all the way and I have your back no matter what. I know you can do it.

Moving onto you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for treating me like an absolute princess and for giving me the world. Thank you for being a tourist with me and for really going out of you way to make time for me when I was there. I appreciate that you took off work for while I was there. Seeing ‘Mini- Holland’ and going to Omniversum was such a treat! Thank you for holding my hand as we walked along the Hoek of Holland. Thank you for making me get on the boat on the windiest day possible. Despite the cold water and being wet, you are the only person I would share these memories with. Thank you for taking me to Delph to see the most amazing churches, to Antwerp for shopping, to Rotterdam to see the food market and Euromast and as well as to Akersloot for one of the most exciting two days of my life (even though we both know you have bad luck with stream cabins). Being able to swim and go in the jacuzzi with you was so sick. Laughing with you comes so easy and I love seeing you that happy. Let’s just say, after this week, I am not afraid of heights anymore, haha.

There are so many memories I never want to forget and I know I have them in my heart. Walking on the pier and seeing the whole of Scheveningen was so good because I really felt like I was home. Even though it was cold and windy, being with you made every second worth it. Riding a scooter for the first time was fun and it’s something I will never forget. Also, thank you for taking me to the Zoo to see turtles fucking. It was the best.Yesterday evening and last night was so bitter sweet. Thank you for taking me for supper (and for making me try duck). I am so lucky to have had the best looking date of the evening. Walking along the beach in the sunset was genuinely the most perfect way to get together. I really am looking forward to so many more adventures with you as my boyfriend.

Juls, I promise promise promise to trust you with all my heart and I promise to look out for you the way you looked after me. You are my entire world and I can’t wait to see what the future holds for us. I know leaving is shit and being so far away from you is even more shit, but seeing you and spending time with you makes he waiting worth every second. Thank you for all the late night smokes and conversations. Thank you for always making me feel safe with anything I tell you. Thank you for listening to all my stories and secrets. I know you won’t tell anyone and that’s really amazing. I am glad I get to share things with you, good or bad. I can’t wait to come back to Holland and to live life with you. I really am not kidding when I say I love you more than words can explain. There really is so much I want to say but this message will never be enough to explain everything. Lastly, thank you for loving my body and for respecting me so much.

I appreciate it more than you could ever imagine. You are so special to me. Thank you for being gentle (even though my back is broken) and for always giving me kisses before bed and when I wake up. I am going to miss that so much. Juls, you’re one in a million and I am the happiest with you, 100%. I love you, always. P.S. Thank you for fueling my coffee addition every day. I love you for that.”

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