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tcm · 4 years ago

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Doris Day Was Far More Than Virginal By Susan King

Oscar Levant once quipped: “I knew Doris Day before she was a virgin.”

The actor-composer-pianist-writer starred with Day in her first film, ROMANCE ON THE HIGH SEAS (‘48), in which she played a bubbly singer. And it is true that she played 30-something-year-old virgins beginning with PILLOW TALK (‘59), the first film she made with Rock Hudson. But Levant’s comment diminishes the former band singer’s accomplishments as an actress and ignores the fact that her characters were quite modern and progressive. In fact, you could call her an early feminist.

During her “Golden Age,” which I define as between LOVE ME OR LEAVE ME (‘55) and SEND ME NO FLOWERS (‘64), she played successful career women at a time when there weren’t that many being portrayed on screen. In the George Abbott-Stanley Donen cotton candy-colored musical THE PAJAMA GAME (‘57), she’s a worker in a pajama factory, a member of the union leadership who doesn’t take any guff from her bosses. In the delightful romantic comedy TEACHER’S PET (‘58), she’s a successful journalist and college professor; in PILLOW TALK, a flourishing interior decorator; and two years later in LOVER COME BACK (‘61), she goes toe to toe with Hudson as a rival Madison Avenue ad executive. And, in the often-neglected comedy IT HAPPENED TO JANE (‘59), she’s a widowed mother of two who takes on the meaner-than-mean head of a railroad (Ernie Kovacs) when the company causes the death of 300 lobsters she was shipping.

Day’s characters were also incredibly feisty. In PILLOW TALK, the only film for which she received a Best Actress Oscar nomination, she learns that the man she’s fallen for, the shy handsome Texas Rex Stetson, is actually the womanizing composer she shares her party phone line with, so she redesigns his apartment into a gaudy mess reflecting his lothario ways. Speaking of lothario, Day’s leading men often played long-term bachelors-serial daters, like Clark Gable in TEACHER’S PET and Cary Grant in THAT TOUCH OF MINK (‘62). Her characters fall in love with them but won’t become their latest conquests. It’s actually the men who succumb to her charms and give up their womanizing ways when they fall in love with her.

Still, the virgin quote harmed her legacy. “People don’t take her seriously,” said former L.A. Times film critic Kenneth Turan in 2012. “It was a lifetime battle for Marilyn Monroe to be taken seriously; that was a battle she won. Audrey Hepburn was taken seriously. People are reluctant to take Doris Day seriously. It’s too bad.” Cari Beauchamp, a film historian and writer who specializes in the history of women in film, told me in 2012 that when she talks to people about Day “they tend to say she played the girl next door. And you look at her movies, particularly at the time of those films and she wasn’t the girl next door. She always had a backbone.”

Day was a popular singer with Les Brown and His Band of Renown, scoring her first No. 1 in 1945 with “Sentimental Journey.” Hollywood soon came knocking on her door, and she answered in the Warner Bros.’ Technicolor musical ROMANCE ON THE HIGH SEAS, directed by Michael Curtiz, in which she introduced the Best Song Oscar nominee “It’s Magic.” Not only was she adorable and a breath of fresh air, Day seemed totally at ease in her big screen bow.

“I wanted to be in films,” she told me in 2012. “I wasn’t nervous. I just felt ‘I’m here. I am supposed to be doing this.’ I was so lucky to have such terrific actors and directors. Everything was different and everything to me was great.”

Her films at Warner Brothers were a mixed bag. She got to demonstrate her dramatic chops reuniting with Curtiz for YOUNG MAN WITH A HORN (‘50), starring Lauren Bacall and Kirk Douglas. And I also loved the Booth Tarkington-inspired musical comedies ON MOONLIGHT BAY (‘51) and BY THE LIGHT OF THE SILVERY MOON (‘53). Turan loves her musical-comedy CALAMITY JANE (‘53), in which she has a field day as the famed Wild West heroine, because “her energy is kind of irrepressible.” Day also introduced the Oscar-winning song, “Secret Love” in the freewheeling classic.

But she really came into her own when she went to MGM to do the musical drama LOVE ME OR LEAVE ME, in which she gave a tour de force performance as torch singer Ruth Etting, who has a particularly volatile marriage to a gangster (James Cagney). But she was totally ignored by the Academy and the Golden Globes. The film was nominated for six Oscars, winning for Best Motion Picture Story, with only Cagney, brilliant as Marty “the Gimp” Snyder, getting nominated for his performance.

Turan described LOVE ME OR LEAVE ME as a “provocative film. It almost defines a kind of thing that you would say: Doris Day would never do something like that. But when we say that we are thinking of the cliché Doris Day, not thinking of the actual actress who made interesting choices and interesting films.” Day also counted the hit, directed by Charles Vidor, as a career highlight. “I really loved working with Jim,” she said of Cagney, who had previously appeared with her in the disappointing THE WEST POINT STORY (‘50). “The wonderful thing is that when you have someone like him to play opposite, it’s very exciting. You just feel so much from a man like that.”

She didn’t do research into Etting’s life but went by the script and “just how I felt and what I listened to. You react. It was so well-written. It just comes out of you. I don’t know how to explain it.” But it probably wasn’t hard. Like Etting, who endured abuse at the hands of her husband, the four-time married Day was mercilessly beaten by her one husband, musician Al Jordan, the father of her only child, Terry Melcher.

Mastering drama and musicals, Day was also a fabulous comedian. Just look at her expression when Gable, as a seasoned newspaper editor, kisses her for the first time in TEACHER’S PET. She crosses her eyes and is literally weak in the knees. Or when she realizes in THAT TOUCH OF MINK that Grant wants her to share his bed when they go to a resort. It’s brilliant. And of course, she and Hudson had a chemistry few actors get to share on screen. Ironically, Day admitted she didn’t know who Hudson was when they were cast together in PILLOW TALK, even though he had been a major star for most of that decade and earned an Oscar nomination for GIANT (‘56). “Isn’t that amazing?,” she said laughing. “I thought he was just starting out. I didn’t know about the films he had made. I just loved working with him. We laughed and laughed.”

The quality of her films declined after SEND ME NO FLOWERS. Her third husband and manager, Marty Melcher, put her in poorly received comedies such as DO NOT DISTURB (‘65) and CAPRICE (‘67). He squandered her money and signed her up to do the CBS sitcom The Doris Day Show without her knowledge before his death in 1968. The series ran from 1968 to 1973.

After the series, Day went to Carmel, co-owned a pet friendly hotel there and concentrated on animal welfare. In 1985-86, she did the pet-forward TV talk show Doris Day and Friends, best remembered for guest Rock Hudson, who was suffering from AIDS. She admitted Hollywood never lured her out of retirement. “No one really said that – ‘Oh, come back.’ I was just here.’”

#Doris Day #feminism #female sexuality #musicals #comedy #James Cagney #Rock Hudson #TCM #Turner Classic Movies #Susan King

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trekkie-in-space · 3 years ago

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Request : Berlin flirt with OC/Reader and Marsella/Marseille is jealous - La Casa de Papel / Money Heist

Title : To envy the sun

Author :JackB

Resume : Berlin flirt with OC/Reader and Marsella is displeased/hates it.

Requested by : @ahsxual

Warning : Some violence against women (mild), slur

Word : 4929

____

For how perceptive and clever Andrès is, he can be terribly oblivious to some things which can make it very frustrating. It’s not intentional on his part, Marsella knows, it’s just how Andrès is. He is one to take a lot of places in a room, to take the center like a sun, and he does that with such a natural that few people can compete with him. His confidence radiates around and sometimes it feels like you can exist only because he has more than proper manners or because he wants something from you. Most of the time at least. He never knew Andrès to be beyond or shy to go dirty if he feels it’s required in one way or another. But it’s not the case here.

“How are things going with Tatiana ?” He asks as Andrès serve him coffee.

The morning is warm with a gentle sunbeam that promise to become something to endure later that day. If their meeting around breakfast today is supposed to be to talk about some details for their current ‘business’ partnership, Marsella know Andrès likes to initiate the matter himself. So, in the meantime, it’s just friendly conversation or debate.

“Fabulous !” He answers with a warm smile. “She is amazing, things are going above and beyond. Why ?” His question is asked with this peculiar tone Marsella know to be careful around.

“Just thought, you’ve been flirting quite obviously with Athena last night, I believe Tatiana is not one to appreciate such gesture.” Andrès breaks into a laugh.

“I was hardly flirting.”

“Would you ask anybody at that party, they would say you were flirting.”

“Okay, maybe I was flirting.” He admits he bit too proud of himself. Marsella is thankful to takes a sip of his coffee at this moment, hiding any expression he could be making hearing that. “But it’s all in good friendliness. Tatiana knows I’m all for her, she has nothing to be afraid of. Plus, there is nothing more ugly and weak than a man who cheats. Unsatisfied bastard who don’t deserve what they are given. And women love when we give their friends’ attention. Athena was extraordinary last night, my compliments were genuine and I thought she could relax a bit too.”

Marsella nod.

“Why ? Does it bother you ?” Andrès has this peculiar smile on his face which let Marsella know just how much he is screwed.

_____

“May I present you Athena Clementelli, La Prima of the Ballet de La Scala, in Milan.” Tatiana says, the woman at her side smile shyly and bow to him. He return the gesture with a nod. She seems intimidated, and he guesses he is pretty tall and broad compared to her small size, without necessarily looking overly worrying, he knows he is not very inviting at first glance.

The presentations are cut short as Tatiana takes the arm of her friend and they walk away, immediately launching in what seems an interesting conversation. Andrès give him a tap on the shoulder and gently push to invite him to walk behind the two women with him. Even if the private jet will wait for them, passing too much time in a busy and loud airport is never pleasurable.

“She is amazing on a scene, a brilliant dancer and a very good friend of my love.”

“And since you said we were going to Milan, I suppose Tatiana gives a representation there.”

“Exactly, it’s a partnership. Tatiana will play, and Athena will dance. And us, we will steal. But first, Venice, we have ten days before the representation, we want to make the most of it.”

That’s one of the advantages to work with Andrès, beautiful city, fancy places and good times are always of the party at some point or another.

This private plane is quite nicely sized. There’s a lot of room and the two women quickly take up the front side, close to the cabin and continue their chatting.

“It’s been a long time, they have a lot to tell each other.” Andrès says as he sits closer to the back, leaving the girls some privacy.

He sat near him, the crew that will take care of them during the trip prevent them from talking about the heist they are planning, so after a bit of small talk Andrés decide to take a nap.

Marsella find himself dragged to the jovial conversation ahead the plane, the current article he found to occupy his time is too uninteresting to keep his attention. And at this point ear dropping anything and everything has become a habit, an instinct he doesn’t even intentionally think about.

The conversation contains nothing capital in itself. Athena just explain to an overly please Tatiana how she ousted her competitors for the place of Prima and secured her position. She might not look like it, but if what he hears is true, she is ferocious when she wants something or when someone pissed her off. Her tale is brutal and for a second he wonder how he expected less of a friend of Tatiana and Andrès.

Times passes and Tatiana joins them in the back. Or rather join Andrès. He knows it’s time to head out and leave the couple be extravagant together as only them know how and dare to be. So he joins Athena in the front, he smiles at her as he sits on the other side of the corridor to her, and she answer with a small smile, quickly returning to her occupation.

He notices her without observing, if he is to work with her, potentially, he is not sure of all the details yet, he needs to know more about her.

For what he can see, she keeps to herself, she is kind and polite with the staff and tends to be more reserved with the man than with the woman that she easily chats up with.

When he gets up to relax his legs and take a few steps he accidentally let the magazine he had hardly been reading fall, as he bends to pick it up he is outpaced by Athena, picking it up for him.

“Oh, let me.” She says in Italian. She hands him the magazine quickly.

“Thank you.” He answers back in her tongue.

She is pleasantly surprised.

“You speak Italian ?”

“I do.”

“Is it just a few words every tourist knows or.. ”

“Or am I able to hold a specific conversation ? Feel free to try me.” He continues while stretching a bit. “But apologize my regionalism, it is a bit poor.”

She smiles and invites him to sit in front of her.

“Where did you learn Italian ?”

“I’ve studied over in Naples, I was terrible, but I couldn’t afford to be in the army.”

“You’re a soldier ?”

“Was.”

“Did you ever kill someone ?” He gives a nervous laugh.

“Going straight for the delicate question I see.”

“Just curious I suppose.”

“Be careful, next she will ask you miliary secret.” Tatiana says as she passes beside them to go talk to the pilot.

Athena blush slightly, her eyes lower. Tatiana is not long to come back, and in the back Andrès call for her loudly with loving and erotic suggestions that she answer positively to, which only make Athena blush further.

“Don’t worry, there is noise canceling headphone if they can’t wait to arrive at the hotel.”

“We don’t have that luxury in our training studio, but maybe I should require it.”

“As a prima I’m sure you could.”

“Definitely.”

“How did you meet Tatiana ?”

“In a gala representation in Moscow, it was one of the most terrible and chaotic nights I ever had, ask Tatiana she tells the tale better than me. And let’s says it didn’t go well at all with her at first, but that night or rather morning, we found ourselves outside, drinking vodka to keep us warm and we made friends over the chaos of that night.”

“Found you had more in common ?”

“Absolutely. I wasn’t a Prima at that time, took me a lot of work to achieve it, that world is harsh and unforgiving. I found the same determination in Tatiana.”

They can hear the couple get more excited in the back.

“I think I’m going to take those noise canceling headphone and takes a nap.”

Marsella open the drawer on the side for her. She thanks him in a tone that seems too grateful for such a small and inconsequential gesture. He regains the other side of the plane, giving her space and privacy.

____

Upon arriving in the Marco Polo airport they are approached by a small group, Athena walk slightly faster to meet with the older woman that seems to be the one in charge. It just strikes him upon seeing them smiling, that they must be dancers too. Their stance and physics similar to how he saw Athena be.

Tatiana and Andrès present themselves easily and himself feel a bit clumsy around, though it goes unnoticed.

“Thank you so much Madame Bartolotti for letting me train.. ”

“Nonsense, you know you’re always welcome here. Though I do have a favor to ask of you.” She asks as she takes Athena arm in hers and start walking, leaning the way for their little group.

“Of course, anything.”

“The city receives conservators from all around the country for a conference on the Italian renaissance, I would like you to give a representation for them at the opening party.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

“Of course your friends are invited.”

“It’s more than appreciated Madame Bartolotti, if I may, my cherished wife is an extraordinary pianist.” Andrès says, holding his hand in the air for Tatiana to take, he brings her so naturally on the scene, letting her use her charm.

“It would be my pleasure to offer you my service for this party.” She says. “As a way to thank you for your hospitality.”

“Tatiana and I have been working several times together, she is talented.” Athena adds. “More so than Regazzi.”

“I see no reason not to accept, I will speak with the orchestra of your participation. I’m very curious to discover your performance, not many people can compete with Regazzi, but I know Athena never hand out such compliment on a whim.”

“Oh I know she is never one to brush an ego just to be kind.” Tatiana confirms.

“Exactly. It will take place in the Palazzo Ducale in four days, I hope it’s enough time for you to rest and prepare.”

“Of course. More than enough.” Athena affirms.

“Good, may I present you to Nicolo, Manfredi and Cirillo, you will work with them, they are at your disposition and you will be the one to choose who come with you for the duet at the party.”

She nods at the three men, slightly in retreat, careful as they all present themselves to her once more.

“It would be to pleasure to work with you. The trip has been long it will have to wait tomorrow morning for repetition, but I would like to see how you dance today. If you don’t mind.”

That being set, they all embark in a boat to join the main city. Athena and Tatiana head for the theater La Fenice with Bartolotti and the dancers, while him and Andrès head for their hotel. They have a lot of things to discuss for the Heist in Milan and details to sort out. He is not even surprised to see how luxurious the Monaco & Grand Canal hotel is, nor to be paid a room for the time of his stay. Andrès love luxe and always treat his trusted collaborators well.

____

Athena is quick to leave in the morning, the sun is only peaking in the horizon and the air is fresh from the breeze. She does not notice him as she passes beside the terrace, her brilliant brown hair flow with her movement and she tie them in a near perfect chignon without thinking. The way from the hotel to the theater is not long but her pace is dynamic. Though, she is stopped when a woman comes toward her with an even quicker pace and a palpable determination.

He focus back on his coffee and the news in the journal. But his ears are sharp as he listens to what he can.

“ … mistake, you can perform to that party only because I don’t have time for it. You are no more than a convenience for Madame Bartolotti.”

“Not my fault if you can’t assume multiple project at the same time Olivia.”

“Keep low, I lend you my theater by respect but don’t come strutting on my field.”

“Madame Bartolotti is the one to lend me La Fenice.. ”

Marsella can feel the tension between the two women, it wouldn’t take much for it to escalate.

“..But thank you for lending me your dancers, they are talented.” Athena softens, calming the electric heat between Olivia and her.

“That conference is important, the representation need to be perfect, I wouldn’t risk it with a low tier dancer, now it’s up to you not to screw it up.”

“I never do and you know that. Personally even. I will make sure to address how generous you were though.” Olivia nod.

“If we’re clear.”

“We are.”

The woman leaves promptly, not without a dry glare that Athena return with more restrain. Once out of sight she relaxes and breath out before storming back toward the hotel. It’s at this moment she notices him. He salutes her and invite her to his table.

She takes on the offers and sit carefully in front of him, nervous.

“You seems pissed off.” He comments.

“One coffee please, and add a bit of whiskey in it please.” She asks a passing waiter who nods to her request. “Yah.” She answers him, untying her hair who fall back on her shoulder.

“Whiskey right in the morning ?”

“Just to take the edge off. She’s.. ” She starts but stops herself to calm a bit. “She’s the Prima of La Fenice, and in my world a Prima hates other Prima. We are in constant concurrence. And it’s without counting ex-Prima who are bitter to be on the bench and those who wish to take our place.”

“Coexistence is hard I see.”

“It is. She is even more bitter because I was supposed to be the Prima of La Fenice, she was the backup option in case I didn’t take the position.”

The waiter arrives with her coffee and she takes a sip or two of it.

“I’m not here to take her place, she doesn’t need to freak out and put pressure on me.”

“If she does it’s because you still represent a threat to her. You’re the one putting pressure on her just by being here.”

“True.” She smiles and gets up. “I’m sorry, I have to leave if I don’t want to be late. Thank you for the talk, I needed to calm down.”

“My pleasure. Any good place I wouldn’t dare to miss while I’m here ?” He asks.

“Try the Castello District and try to find the garden. It’s beautiful.” She says after a bit of reflexion.

“I will. Thank you.”

She quickly leaves. He knows he has a few hours to kill before he meets Andrès again, plenty of time to visit some places, the last time he came in Venice was for a contract and he didn’t have the leisure to enjoy the city. So be the Castello District then.

____

That evening, as he is about to leave the hotel Marsella see Athena in the lounge, a nearly empty drink in hand and a bored expression on her face. He goes to salute her and she smile at him.

He quickly learn the reason for her poor mood. Tatiana and her were supposed to go out tonight, but she canceled their plan in favor of her husband, which in itself is understandable.

“I’m going out to eat, care to join me ?” He offers. He is used to being alone but wouldn’t say no to the bright company of Athena.

She hesitates an instant but accept.

“The garden was indeed beautiful.” He says.

“I’m glad you found it, it’s a sight to see. Especially since green space are rare and private most of the time in Venice.”

On their way for a restaurant they cross paths with a dog, Athena is quick to go to pet it, forgetting what is around her and Marsella himself. Only remembering his company when he lower down to pet the animal too.

“Dogs are the best.” He comments, memories coming back to him.

“Do you have one ?”

“Had.” She nods, he can see in her eyes that she is curious but restrain from asking. “Do you ?” He asks back.

“I wish I had, but I’m traveling too much, I would never see it and my heart would break.”

“You always have time later.”

“When someone takes my place, sure. I may have more time then, but I don’t want to think of it. The sooner you think it will end the sooner it end.” She refocus on the dog who is more than happy to be getting attention. “I don’t know much about you, so tell me a bit about your dog.” She finally asks. He laughs,

“Alright, she was called.. ”

The evening goes well, their dinner is passed to talk about their past animals for the most part and in those tales are woven some details about their life.

Back at the hotel, they are about to split back in their respecting room when she proposes :

“If you like, come to see me rehearse tomorrow. La Fenice is a sight to see from inside and I like to have a public.”

“I will come.”

“Good. Only if you want, of course, and you don’t have to stay for long if you do come.” She adds quickly.

“It’s fine.” He reassures. “I’m curious.”

“Good then. Just says your name when you arrive, I will warn them to let you enter.”

“Noted. Good night.”

“Good night.”

____

As he enters the theater, he is humbled by the beauty of the place. He is not really used to that kind of environment, it’s not his primary point of gravitation, though he learned how to blend in most places.

He is guided in a few corridors then shown directions to the backstage by an obviously bored receptionist. He apparently arrived at the moment where they took a break as nobody had been on the scene when he was guided there at first.

It’s not a problem for him, he makes his ways in a few steps and follow the sound of voices.

It’s unclear at first, but he quickly recognizes the tone of a conflict. If he speed up, he does so as quietly he can. Listening carefully.

He easily recognize Athena voice and what must be one of the dancers that were at the airport.

“.. Picked Manfredi, my decision is final, stop arguing.”

“I’m a better dancer.”

“You can keep repeating that it’s not going to make me change.”

“You’re just an entitled bitch, Manfredi will drop you tomorrow.. ”

“You’re the one who nearly dropped me yesterday.” She snaps back.

“I need that position, what don’t you get about that ?”

“I don’t car.. ”

“I need the money, I need the publicity for my career, some recognition, it’s simple. What you don’t get about that ?”

Something is thrown on the wall and break loudly on the floor. Marsella is getting closer, but still out of sight, and can pick up Athena fearful gasp.

“Leave. I didn’t pick you. Give it up.” She tries again with force yet her tone is full of anguish.

“I’m a good dancer, I was Olivia’s main.. ”

“Yeah ? Well, I get why she dropped you.”

“You.. ”

Athena back up to find herself cornered on a table as he raises his hand against her. He finds himself firmly stopped right in the air. She raise her eyes toward Marsella and let out a relieved breath. The man tries to free himself, but he is firmly held and any attempts drop flat.

“I believe she told you to leave !” He says firmly.

“Who the fuck are you ?” He tries to free himself again, in vain. Marsella place himself between him and Athena. Making him back up.

“You can think of me I some sort of guard dog if you want.” The other man snort.

“Who the fuck he is ?” He asks Athena directly.

Marsella snap his fingers near his ears, his grip tighten on his arm.

“It’s with me you’re dealing now boy. Better calm down, it would be unfortunate for you to get injured, don’t you think ?”

“What ? You’re a psycho.”

“You can’t dance with a damaged knee I believe, or I’m thinking, maybe an ankle.”

“What do you want ?”

“For you to leave just like Athena asked.”

“Fine.” He tries to free himself but Marsella still don’t let go. “I’m leaving.”

“And if something were to happen to Athena or hm.. Manfr.. ” He turns toward Athena.

“Manfredi.” She answers.

“Manfredi.” He repeats. “I will hold you personally responsible, and well, let’s says you don’t want that. Are we clear ?”

“Clear.” The man has a smaller voice now as he takes in the threat.

Marsella let go of him and the man leave promptly, cursing lowly.

“You’re alright ?” He asks Athena.

“Ye.. ”

“Where is this bastard ?” Andrès exclaimed as he enters the backstage, Tatiana following him closely. Marsella point out a direction he immediately follows.

“You’re okay ?” Tatiana asks her.

“Yes, it’s fine, it just got a bit heated.”

“More than heated, he was getting violent.” Marsella correct.

“Did he touch you ?” Tatiana asks.

“Was about. Thank you for your help. I’m glad you came.” She directs at Marsella.

“He’s always there when you need him, that is true.” Andrès says as he comes back.

They all, but Athena, exchange a knowing glare, that man will get some repercussion.

“Do you want to go out, relax ?”

“No, I’m waiting for Manfredi.”

“We can leave a note and he can join us when he arrives.” Athena thinks an instant.

“Okay, yeah, taking some air will do me good.”

On their way out Athena turn to Marsella. He is already way bigger and taller than her but at this moment, she seems so small as she looks up.

“You wouldn’t have hurt him do you ?”

“Only if necessary.” He answers and his tone comes out a bit too coldly.

In a second he had passed from a helpful friend to a scary stranger. Feeling her sudden unease Tatiana grabs her arm and they take the front.

“Don’t worry.. ” He hears her says.

“It’s good you were here to help her.” Andrès tell him.

“You want to do something about the boy ?”

“Nicolo Virona, and yes, I believe he deserves a bit more than a threat.”

They end up taking a small walk on the street, before having a coffee on a terrace. The mood lightens up and earlier worries are forgotten. Manfredi do join them and conversation come to turn around dance and the many interesting stories that come with working within a ballet of worldwide fame.

“We should go back and rehearse.” Manfredi says after a bit of time. “You can both come to watch us if you want.” He directs at him and Andrès.

“I would like that.” Athena says, any worries she had, had disappeared from her sharp brown eyes which reassure him in accepting the proposition.

____

The party is grandiose. The Doge’s Palace is extraordinary, beautiful painting recovers the walls and ceiling, ornated with golden moldings and wood, it’s a masterpiece like you rarely see one. A superb white piano awaits for Tatiana to start playing. Place has been made in the center of the room for the arrivals of the dancers and a grounding choir of whisper can be heard, all eager and curious to see what will follow. It calm down as light focus on the scene, plunging everyone in a gentle darkness.

“Look at her.” Andrès tell him, watching Tatiana as she starts playing. Full of admiration and love.

Everybody goes quiet as notes rise in the room.

Manfredi come, his steps are fluid and elegant and give an impression of languor and sadness. Slow and yearning. They’ve seen him do those steps in training but it hit different tonight. The note of the piano follow the mood, and when it accelerates they know Athena will make her entry soon.

She doesn’t come from where Manfredi emerged but from the crowd around where she squeezes her way with smooth movements.

She jumps and her partner catch her easily, like it’s nothing. He holds her high and turn and when she goes down he embraces her as if they were lovers finding each other again. Lowering her down nearly to the floor. In a quiet and peaceful move. There’s a reverence to it.

Then she finds herself on her feet and they separate for a few moves to find each other again. Every movement is fluid, elegant, and with a natural and a sensuality that is mesmerizing.

It’s beautiful.

The room goes dark when they finish and all light lighten up back for the final salute, applause raise high in the room and many are coming to congrats them on their performance and exchange a few words. He stays in retreat until he can himself go and present his admiration.

“Athena, you were.. ”

“MAGNIFICENT.” Andrès cuts him and pass in front of him catching all of Athena attention. She can barely glance at him before Andrès catch her attention by a flow of beautifully worded compliments. His would be pale in comparison. Not that his feeling and intention would be less, but the form would be poor compared to Andrès.

Sublime, grandiose, opulent, splendid, elegant, sumptuous, majestic.. Andrès spare no compliment. He makes her laugh and manages to eclipse everything around them.

“Do you want a drink ?”

“A flute of champagne would be perfect.” Andrès turn toward him and he knows the task to go pick one fall on him.

“You were resplendent, I’m humbled by such beauty.” He tells her as he hand her the flute when he comes back.

“Thank you.”

“I agree, nobody could look away from you.” Andrès takes her hand and kiss the top of it which make Athena giggle.

In a second, Marsella is forgotten again. He looks at Andrès in disbelief, annoyed by his lack of tact.

“I hope you will grant me the pleasure of a dance tonight.” Andrès asks.

“It would be my pleasure. But I need to change first.”

“Of course.”

Marsella doesn’t manage to offers more than a few words to Athena, her attention caught by the effervescence of the party. After a time he doesn’t really try anymore. It’s not his place, not his world. He doesn’t have Andrès talent and charm and he can’t help but feel a bit bitter about it. Andrès know how to stand out while he is an expert in blending in the crowd to never be seen. A bit too much to his tastes. It doesn’t really matter, Athena seems like she enjoys herself, his presence or not wouldn’t change anything.

____

“Why ? Does it bother you ?” Andrès has this peculiar smile on his face which let Marsella know just how much he is screwed.

“No.” Andrès laugh gently.

“Yes, it does.” He seems very pleased with himself. “It does. You like her.”

He doesn’t answer, this is escalating to a way he doesn’t like.

“Difficult not to, she is brilliant, intelligent, beautiful. Everybody had her eyes on her last night.” Marsella raise his cup to this. “But you could have stood out. Invite her, catch her attention for yourself.”

Difficult when you’re already on the scene. He thinks.

Andrès catch the hint in his eyes. “Oh, because of me ?” He laughs, and Marsella hates it, he feels like being mocked.

“I’m hardly going to compete with you, it’s your field.” He answers calmly.

“I’m taking your envy as a compliment, but you need to be more outstanding, a bit more.. ” He searches his words, a hand on his shoulder. “A bit more.. A bit less proper and a bit more confident.”

Andrès touch bother him and he moves slightly, thankfully his working partner take the hint and removes his hand.

“You’re giving me advice now ?” He can’t help but feel bitter and slightly humiliated.

“Look at me, I get everything I want, I take everything I want. I can help you.” Marsella snort. Andrès come to sit at his side. “No, it’s true. Athena appreciates you. You, the one who came to her rescue. Make a grand gesture, she will appreciate it.”

“She’s not like Tatiana.”

“Exactly, I’m a bit too much for her, she needs someone a bit more subtle. Here what I think.. ”

The preparation for the heist in Milan is forgotten as Andrès expose his idea.. Marsella previous bitterness fade in favor of amusement. Alright, maybe he can learn a thing or two.

End.

#LA CASA DE PAPEL #LCDP #MONEY HEIST #MARSELLA #MARSEILLE #BERLIN #ANDRES DE FONOLLOSA #OC #my writing #pre-canon

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spell-cleaver · 4 years ago

Note

👀I am looking respectfully,,,,

This is a scene from a fic I had the idea for back in August and started writing, with a lot of discussion with some other peeps -- a steampunk-ish fantasy AU where Luke is a pianist and a Rebel spy. When I got access to a computer again I wrote this and nothing more XD But this is the first scene of what I have 👀 (and I will finish this in the new year. I like the idea of the overall concept too much not to)

Vader’s description is based off some sketches by @radioactivepeasant!

Vader's castle was as forbidding as its master—it resembled nothing more than two ebony keys lashed together into a two-pronged fork shape. It shot suddenly out of the ground as it drew nearer, it seemed; they crested a hill, and then it was there.

Luke peered out the window of the carriage he was in, and swallowed. Even the weather seemed to match Vader's threatening aesthetic. Lightning crackled, and Luke drew back into the carriage, pulling his case tighter between his knees.

He gave the other two residents of the carriage a weak smile, and got a few in return. He knew a few of them, and that... made him nervous.

It was suspicious that at least three musicians who served as Rebel spies were all being summoned to play for Lord Vader, a telepath, all at once.

Did he know?

Were they walking to their deaths?

He didn't know. But he supposed it didn't matter—they couldn't exactly refuse, or risk definitely blowing their covers. No self-respecting loyal citizen would turn down the opportunity to play at Lord Vader's function after all.

Never mind that Vader never held functions, usually...

And then they had arrived.

Luke took the coachman's hand as he stepped out of the carriage and nodded respectfully to him, before turning away. He stood at the bottom of the steps and looked up at the castle.

And up, and up, and up, shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun behind the clouds.

He swallowed.

A stressed, mousy-faced man came out to usher them up the stairs and indoors, where he left them with strict orders to stay put.

Luke tried not to shiver, looking around the austere antechamber, made of the same forbidding obsidian as the rest of the castle. He clutched his night bag tightly in his right hand, his music case in his left, and breathed, letting his eyes wander.

They arrested on a painting.

It completely contrasted the rest of the place. Displayed boldly in the middle of the wall, in plain sight to everyone coming in or out. It was an oil painting of the Naboo Lake Country—Luke knew that area intimately, from his many visits to his aunt, Sola, and his cousins. He also knew that the Naboo were fiercely opposed to Palpatine's Empire, and Vader's conquest.

So... why break his theme to display this in the antechamber of his home?

In fact, Luke thought that might even be an image of the lake outside Varykino...

No. It didn't matter. It wasn't like he'd get answers if he outright asked Vader—he'd probably get executed on the spot for such rudeness—and Vader's servants weren't about to volunteer the information. So, forcibly, he turned away.

Just in time to hear... something... approaching.

It was footsteps, but it was also... a ticking. And a hissing, of steam in an engine, in and out, over the click, click, click of a clock counting down the seconds of an hour of a day of a life, getting louder, and louder, and louder...

Steam billowed lightly, then Vader strode in.

Luke gasped. The clockwork man paused in front of the gaggle of musicians and Luke couldn't help but stare. Vader's armour folded around him, a metal so dark it was black, and riveted together with gleaming brass bolts. Pipes snaked in and out of his mask, puffing and hissing thin sheets of steam, the mechanisms clattering and clinking with ever breath, his limbs whirring as he raised his hands and planted them on his hips to behold them all standing there.

His eye pieces were the most unnerving, though. They glowed.

After an abrupt, awkward moment, Luke realised Vader was staring right back at him, too.

"Luke Skywalker," he greeted, lowly and menacingly. He turned to look at the others—even that minor movement evoked a ticking not unlike a metronome; Luke wondered if it was true that Vader was more automaton than man. "Evaan Verlaine, Biggs Darklighter. Welcome to my home."

Luke didn't feel very welcomed.

"Piett," Vader addressed his manservant, "have the musicians shown to their guests' quarters, then show them where they will be playing tonight. I want Skywalker in the main ballroom."

Piett nodded. "Yes, my lord."

Vader stood there and watched as they filed out and up the grand staircase, hissing and whirring and clicking in a small flurry of sound. Luke paused before he put a foot on the first step, glancing back—at Vader; at the painting; at the door, and the dark carriage beyond it.

"That painting," Vader said, and Luke jerked in shock, "is of familial importance to me. That is why it is there."

Luke was abruptly reminded that Vader was a telepath. He shuttered his questions, immediately—or, tried to. Vader tilted his head in a way that might have been amused.

"Go on, little pianist," Vader said. "We will see each other later."

Luke didn't reply. Just scurried up the stairs after Piett and pretended he couldn't feel that glowing gaze bore into his back the whole way up.

send me 👀 and I’ll post a snippet of a fic I wrote but never finished this year

#the pianist #(yes that is the name i don't have anything more creative)#spell narrates her writing adventures #snippets #coralnoodle #my writing #random words on a page

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ziracona · 3 years ago

Text

Got to the next bit, which I was very excited to write. : )

The Kid (pt: 1, … 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, ?) [Fate Grand Order AU]

Mnng… ahh. W..? what…? …where… a…

Oh. Oh dear. I am…still here…

This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. I choke on the way that desperation feels. It has been. so long. since… since I really felt. …fear. It.

I…

I whimper and shut my eyes against the darkness. There’s nothing good to see. The stone floor is cold, and I am bolted to it with shackles at my arms and ankles, stuck on my side, curled up painfully and at awkward angles. It. It makes the pain all so much worse.

So much worse so much worse. Help. God, please, help me. help me.

I haven’t felt like this. I…I never wanted to feel like this again.

What’s going on what’s going on; I don’t understand! Why! It’s not possible it’s not possible.

Was all of it a dream? Did I never really die, and everything I remember since, the throne, summonings, friends—was it all just fever dreams? It can’t be.

It can’t be.

I keep my eyes shut tight. It can’t be. Or where is Sophie? Where is Constanze? Where is… where is…

I try not to cry. It feels so awful. I’m dying. I’m dying and it’s not injury pain, it’s the awful broken pain of your body failing. It’s the fear in every dream when your teeth fall out, or your scalp peels back with your hair, and you want to scream, because it cannot be fixed. Only it’s real and it’s me, and it’s my whole body, and I can’t save myself. Nobody can save me. I’m going to die again I’m going to die.

My arms and legs, my stomach, my face, my hands and feet. They are all so swollen it hurts to not move, it hurts to move, it hurts to look at them. The metal pinning me down bites into my skin unforgivingly. I open my eyes for a moment to look at them, picturing how horrific I seem, remembering how I looked before. Rash all along my skin, little bumps. I’ve vomited, and it’s on the floor and on my face, on my skin and in my hair. My organs are shutting down. I’m dying, but it won’t end. I’m pouring sweat, and it’s disgusting, and broken, and I am broken, and I am dying, and my horrible Requiem in D Minor is playing. It has been playing for hours, for days. Haunting me, killing me again. It won’t end. None of it will end, and I don’t want it to. I don’t want to live, but I am terrified to die.

Please. I shut my eyes again, feeling the sting of tears. I am not used to feeling afraid, I am not used to feeling serious, I am not used to feeling hurt. I can’t go on. I can’t make it stop.

There is a sound.

A door? A loud thud of some kind.

Praying for hope, for rescue, anything, I open my eyes and look up.

I see the man in grey. His coat, his mask, his long cloak.

Death. My death.

I feel my heart lurch and terror fill my veins.

“Oh God,” I choke out. I’m starting to cry and I can’t stop it. Feverishly weakly, I try to move—get up, or recoil, and I am not strong enough to break the shackles, I am not even strong enough to drag myself back the inch I might have been able to with them on. I can’t run from him, I can’t hide, or fight.

He steps into the room, cloak billowing behind him in the darkness, and Dies Irae starts to play.

Wrath is coming for me indeed. I can feel his hate, his rage, seeping into the room, into me. The intent to kill.

There is a corpse already slung over his shoulder, and he looks at me, then picks the limp body up off himself and sets it on the ground and moves forward. He comes for me.

“P-please,” I whisper, “No. Please. Please don’t—please.” I shut my eyes and start to shake. It’s too much; I feel myself splintering.

The footsteps stop.

Still shuddering and crying, I open my eyes again, and see he has stopped, close above me. I am staring at his shoes. I am afraid to look higher.

“Amadeus.”

I am shaken by the voice. I know it. It sounds mournful, and like a ghost itself, like the word was hard to say.

It does not sound like the man in grey should.

“What have they done to you?”

I make myself look up at him. Shock and something else I haven’t understood yet in my chest. I know the voice.

He’s looking down at me, brows knit in worry and pain. Wait.

There is no mask. He has a face. I can see his face.

I know his face.

“Salieri?” I ask. My voice is such a whisper I barely hear it, but I know he does too, because he almost smiles for just a moment, and he nods.

Salieri. Salieri—god. But then.

“You aren’t here to kill me?” I make sure, my voice shaking. I had forgotten. That he…is…

He stoops, and I shudder involuntarily. I see agony on his face in response. “Please don’t say that to me,” he begs me quietly, looking away.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, letting my eyes shut, “I’m dying. I am not very much myself.”

By way of answer, Salieri reaches down and closes his fist around one of the shackles, and it cracks and disintegrates beneath his touch. I look up and he looks back at me and smiles, a weak, weary smile.

“I knew you were here,” he tells me quietly, “I could feel it—for days now. I kept forgetting, but I knew. I’m sorry. It took so long…”

“Where are we?” I ask him.

“I don’t know,” answers Salieri. He takes another shackle in his hands and shatters it carefully, “But I’m getting us out.”

Relief fills me, and I close my eyes and let out a breath. God, thank you. I can’t believe it.

“Okay,” I say, keeping my eyes shut.

I sense him move, and feel one of the shackles on my ankle beak, then he stops moving, so I look up again.

“…Can you survive?” Salieri asks me, “Without a master—how long?”

How long? I swallow, thinking. “I’m not sure,” I answer honestly in a quiet voice, thinking about that. My odds are terrible.

He flexes his fingers, agitated. It looks horrifying, because the way he is now, his gloves are like claws, and the action seems menacing, but I know him. I remember it—a little warmup, to keep blood flowing in a pianist’s hands. How little he must have changed. In spite of everything. …That…I…

…caused…

“I can do it.”

I focus on him again, confused.

“I can anchor you. A little. I can…I can pass on enough mana to keep you material until we can find a real anchor,” he says. I’m not sure if he can or not, looking at him. I’m not sure if he knows.

But he meets my gaze then, and he is determined. It’s so odd to see his eyes red now. They used to be brown—a kind of almost golden brown. Otherwise he looks very much the same, even if his hair is now more white than grey.

“Okay,” I whisper.

He holds my gaze a moment, making sure I believe him, and then he snaps the last shackle. Immediately, I feel like my little remaining energy is sucked out of me. I think I I’m going to lose consciousness…

I’m looking…at the far wall, dazedly. I…I think it’s only been seconds. I’m not sure. I did black out?

I’m…confused. My head aches, my body aches. I want to cry. I am staring at my swollen hand, so big it could never play right on a piano. Then there’s a body in my line of sight. I make my eyes shift up and focus and register Salieri is here.

Oh. Yes. He was… he…

He reaches out a hand and places it on my chest, and I feel a strange sensation, almost like something has snapped—it’s a little scary. But with it, I feel energy return. A small burst of mana.

Salieri is looking at me hopefully.

“It worked?”

I nod. “I…I think.”

I feel my body ebbing into unconsciousness again and my eyes start to shut. Salieri puts a hand out beneath my cheek and tilts my face up a little, trying to hold my consciousness.

“Easy,” he says worriedly, “Try to lay still.”

“Okay,” I whisper, remembering to not nod this time.

He lets go of me. I shut my eyes and lay still. I know he’s still there—I can sense him. I don’t know what he’s doing though. I can’t remember what he said he’d do.

I get scared. I feel like throwing up again, and I think I might. My limbs ache. Breathing hurts. I don’t remember why I’m here, or what’s going to happen. I might still die. I don’t want to. I don’t want to die alone. I…

Blindly, I move a hand, feeling for Salieri, and I find his own and limply close my fingers around his wrist like I might have the strength to keep him here.

He stops moving, and I can sense him looking at me.

“Stay with me?” I plead, forcing my weak eyes open so I can see his face.

“I’m not leaving you,” he says, and I know immediately how absolutely he means it. He puts his other hand on mine, gently, and gives me that sad, sorry, affectionate smile he has again. “Did I leave you last time?”

I smile weakly back. No, you didn’t. You stayed with me until the end. You loved me, even though I was never sure if you ever liked me.

Feeling safer, I shut my eyes again and lay still, and after a moment he lets go of my hand and returns to whatever he’s doing.

“I’m sorry,” I say through weak breaths, smiling sadly to myself at the thought, “You have to see me like this. I know it’s terrible…”

He almost laughs. There’s quiet for a moment, and then he says, “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

That’s true. I looked at least this horrible the last time.

“Still,” I say tiredly. I open my eyes and look at my swollen hand, try to move my fingers. It’s agony. I feel like the water in them will burst any second, my skin feels so tight.

Salieri’s frame shifts into view again, and he slides his arms beneath my shoulders and knees and lifts me easily. I stay limp. I don’t have the energy for anything else, and this is the safest I’ve felt in a long while anyway.

After going a few feet, over closer to the door he came in by, Salieri stoops again. He lays me back on the floor but keeps my head propped up in his lap and takes a handkerchief out of his pocket and reaches down, using one hand to hold my face steady, and the other to wipe old vomit off. He moves gently. It’s almost soothing, and it feels so good to have that foul stuff coming off. I look up at his face, curious with what little energy I have left. I haven’t seen him since I died. It’s been a few hundred years, and I know what they did to him. I wasn’t exactly sure what he’d still be like. But I feel silly for having worried. He still seems to be Salieri.

Looking down, he sees me watching and smiles. “Did you really think I would care about that?” he replies to my earlier comment as he carefully cleans vomit out from along my hairline.

No, I think, smiling up weakly at him, I didn’t. You’ve seen a lot worse. And you never were the kind to.

I relax, and shut my eyes again, let myself go limp, and Salieri support my head. I know what he is. I know what they did to him. We know, often, about other spirits on the throne. A little, anyway. I knew what happened to him. In some ways I watched it happen.

I feel guilty for that, though I’m trying not to. It’s not like I wanted it to happen. I try not to think about how he must be feeling, and how painful this must be. He seems so calm right now. I can almost believe he’s not fighting back the urge to run me through on his sword.

I know he must be, though. It made him an Avenger.

But I’m not afraid of him.

You have seen worse. And I know how you handle things.

I smile to myself a little.

I …I think I’m sad.

Sad? …

“…Salieri?” I ask weakly after a moment, eyes still shut.

“Yes,” he replies.

I don’t know what I was going to say. My head is foggy again, and weak. I think I was going to say I’m sorry, but I can’t say that to him. He would hate that. I don’t want to make him think about it any more than he must already be anyway. I don’t want to think about it. Usually I’m. I’m so good…at…at ignoring this kind of thing. It must be because I’m so…feverish. That I can’t stop thinking. …But. ..I…

I open my eyes and look up at him, and I think he sees it. He must see the guilt in my eyes, at least. I am sorry—I didn’t do it, and I can’t say it, but I am. And I’m worried. I’m…

He looks sad. Swallows. Then shuts his eyes and sighs, then looks off at nothing for a moment.

“Salieri?” I say again.

He looks back down at me.

I try to move my arm again. It’s hard, and he notices and I think for a moment he will stop me, but he doesn’t, and with immense effort I drag my hand along my torso until I find his wrist again. I can’t get my arm any higher, but he lowers his hand so I can reach it. With all the frail strength I have left, I weave my fingers around his. He watches that, then looks at me, an expression on his face I wouldn’t know how to begin to describe beyond frail itself, but in a very different way.

“Thank you,” I say.

I manage a smile.

I mean a lot more. I hope he can tell. I think he can.

I. I hope he can. …

I don’t have more to give. I let my eyes shut again, and I think this time with the energy I’m losing, I might not wake up again.

That would be alright.

No, I think, He promised.

He did.

I lose track of time a little, but after a minute I feel him lift me again, and I let myself lean limp against his chest. I think it will be okay.

It doesn’t matter that he’s supposed to kill me. He told me he wouldn’t, and he has a plan, so I will probably wake up again. I’m safe.

I’m safe. That’s right.

I smile, and let my consciousness go. I’m safe now. He’s staying with me. I’ll be safe.

#fate go #fate grand order #fate go au #the kid (fic)#the kid #fate salieri #fate go salieri #fate mozart #fate go mozart #for once I'm sad I don't do my research notes on Tumblr bc this assumes some amount of reader knowledge of Antonio Salieri's existence as an #Avenger and how it relates to Mozart. I hope it is close to as enjoyable even if not. And if you don't know and want to know I am happy to #give a breakdown

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historybetweenthepages · 3 years ago

Text

Blocked to comment this on Anthony Fantano’s video (so I posted it here).

youtube

I couldn’t comment a response to this video on YouTube due to censorship so I decided to do it here:

The problem with Paul Joseph Watson is mostly the rational that is used to justify the 'breakdown' of morality through art and culture. The viewpoint that popular culture, within the twenty-first century,' is more "vulgar," "vapid," "self absorbed," "hedonistic," and "dehumanizing" "than any other time in living memory" is a view that is extremely one sided and biased. Any generation of the past could have made this argument about the popular cultural of their day and how it is "farther apart" from the traditional, fundamental values that define a culture or society.

If Watson is going to use the example of Miley Cyrus twerking in front of Robin Thicke as a reason this is no different than the view that parents, or most adults, had during the sixties about rock n' roll. For example, when the Beatles broke up my grandparents (on my fathers side) disparaged the groups period as a band commenting that 'The Mills Brothers' (a barbershop quartet that had a career run of fifty-four years and scored hits with 'You Always Hurt the One You Love,' Paper Doll,' 'Glow Worm,' and 'Up a Lazy River' in the forties and fifties that branded them "The Beatles of the 1940's") had a longer run and that the music, aside from Earl Hines, Marva Josie, and Dinah Washington etc. (musicians who need no introduction), had more 'quality' than the entirety of rock n' roll due to the immoral substance that my grandparents (on my fathers side) believed existed. Although this is not meant to disparage this generational period, as they were not always wrong on what popular culture contained whether it was moral or immoral, it highlights the gap between an older and younger group of people who, in some cases, failed to keep an open mind on what was new and presently modern.

If I was going to provide an example that related to the "classical traditionalism" that is 'mostly' found within Watson's channel, I would counteract this with examples of artists (composers, painters, sculptors, etc.), such as Frédéric Chopin, Alexander Scriabin, Arnold Schoenberg, Alban Berg, Karlheinz Stockhausen, Steve Reich, Philip Glass, Vincent Van Gogh, Mark Rothko, Jackson Pollock, Andy Warhol, Franz Kline, Barnett Newman, Francis Bacon, Damien Hirst, or Samuel Beckett. Although these names would invoke a more increased sense of realism to counteract against Watson's belief it would STILL, no matter how logical or understanding, would not be enough to disprove the argument that most, or all, of modern culture is immoral and responsible for the breakdown of "beauty" and "truth" (although these terms are subjective to how they are used within the given context to what people believe is beautiful and true).

Although there are a fair number of examples that have proved how modern society has provided the shift for the decrease of morality, this is still not comprable enough to assert the belief that modern society is the reduction of "everything that is 'moral' or 'positive' " (given the context of a certain subject or topic). If Watson had existed in the different eras of the artists listed above, he would have most likely disparaged what was not explicitly beautiful (hence, if he had existed in the era of Chopin, or Scriabin, he would have denigrated the use of dissonance found within a fair amount of their oeuvre as composers) believing that although these more modern artists are not entirely negative they STILL take away from the reality of "what beauty is."

Although I am four years late (regrettably), and I do not happen to agree with everything Fantano is expressing, he includes some important and relevant points, saying that although the classic, artistic styles of portraits are still relevant, it is essential to have variety and new ideas so these artistic, subject areas do not become static (3:00 - 3:08). With new ideas this allows for newer perspectives on how these traditional concepts can be considered, or 'digested,' from a newer perspective. Fantano also reminds us of the point that not everything in the modern era, especially television, is awash of programs that are unproductive, crude or narcissistic. For anything that can be defined, or misconstrued, as negative, or unproductive, it can be followed up with television programs, art, music, literature, or online articles that are supported with the intent of positively informing or entertaining their readers, listeners, or audience members.

Due to this, it disproves the view that modernism has produced the "diminishment of beauty" to such a high degree that it is a rare, almost nonexistent characteristic within our society. Although I believe that beauty has been subject to various levels of diminishment throughout the different eras of modern history, it STILL is an aspect of life that many people are fighting, protecting, and exemplifying through their work with some examples that include modern artists who are still living or working within the twenty-first century (with videos to prove my point):

Anthony Braxton (American "free jazz" saxophonist, composer, bandleader, and improvisor)

youtube

Barry Harris (jazz pianist, composer, bandleader, and teacher)

youtube

(although he is more of traditional modernist, espousing those who came after bebop such as Bill Evans)

youtube

Cormac McCarthy (author, novelist, poet, and playwright)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_s-egB5SzFY

David Dubal (classical pianist, writer, and disc jockey)

youtube

David Hockney (painter)

Frederick Buechner (writer, novelist, poet, autobiographer, essayist, preacher, and theologian) (this will only maintain relevance if you are religious)

youtube

George Winston (pianist, organist, guitarist, composer, and improvisor)

youtube

Keith Jarrett (jazz and classical pianist, composer, bandleader, improvisor, and multi-instrumentalist)

youtube

(with five other video examples as well that will be posted in the reblog of this response)

Even if these examples provide a strong, moderate, or weak validation for my argument they prove my point (I hope) that beauty is STILL a valued characteristic of daily life and defined as essential for the overall growth, of not only those who are subject to the work, but of the society and environment in which they live. Although the examples above are mostly based around music (due to this being a music channel), I have tried to include other aspects of the arts as well to prove that the modern world, whether it is centered around the second half of the twentieth century or the majority of the twenty first century, is capable of deriving beauty from non-traditionalism and that traditionalism is the foundation that supports the ideas that are acted upon in a modern context. Understanding this, it is safe to assume that not everything has to be 'traditional' or 'conservative' to be considered legitimate. Instead, it is more proficient to believe that as long as the various mediums within the arts, or other aspects of our societal culture, exude a pronounced sense of positivity, this will create a more likely heightened sense of awareness for what is considered 'valuable,' or 'essential' for a given society.

In summary, if Miley Cyrus and Marilyn Manson have profited off an existence that is viewed by a majority as being immoral this does not define the entirety of the modern world. Overt sexualization, the diminishment of beauty, and the "pretentious works of art" found at TATE Modern (using Marcel Duchamp's readymade sculpture, 'Fountain' (1917) as an example) is not the "top defining example" of modernism. Instead, they represent examples of variance that Fantano views as "shit posting before shit posting," even though I disagree with this viewing it as the development of a new artistic style and philosophy (what was known during Duchamp's life as 'DADA'). These newer styles separate art from aspects that are "static," "boring," or "plain" (depending on how these works are viewed) with Fantano using Lou Reed's 'Metal Music' as a relevant example for musical, modern ideas.

The "take down" (depending on how you define this in the context of how it is used) of traditional, conservative values do not define the majority of what is observed throughout the lens of modernism. Instead, it is artists, writers, composers, etc. taking risks on how they can combine traditional aspect of their medium, or style, and subject them to new ideas that are experimental, or improvisational, in their nature. even if an artist’s ideas had no connection to any aspect of traditionalism would this make it bad? In my opinion, not really.

Even if Watson makes a fair number of points that, hypothetically, could be agreed upon (with most that I do not agree with) this does not account for how flawed this view is. It is not healthy, or viable, for someone to look at the modern world with blinders on and continue to move forward. This does not assert change. This does not introduce newer ideas. This does not move traditional aspect of art, or culture, past their classical, conservative stages of infancy. If you want to move forward in the truest sense of a philosophy (give or take what that may consist of) you have to be open to incorporating newer ideas, even if it exists outside of your own personal worldview. You do not have to agree with it but to close yourself off entirely from a new experience that could benefit you personally is wrong.

The logic of "I disagree with certain characteristics of this so I am going to reject it entirely" is WRONG and should NOT be exemplified by anyone at any time. If you happen to disagree entirely with something that is your prerogative and should be respected (as long as it logically based off of facts that can be proven and sourced). Regardless of how right or wrong Watson is (although it may be apparent which view people have taken), it does not set aside the hatred that is transparent when choosing to believe in this philosophy. There are certain facts that define life and although it may be obvious that general "players" within the current culture are immoral and act in contrary ways, (opposed to the moral and values that once, in greater ways, defined our culture), this does not mean that those aspects of modernism that you personally disagree with, aside from what can be factually proven, are wrong, nor are they "the problem" (as Watson would say).

Yes, society has become more contradictory.

Yes, society has become more immoral.

Yes, society has become less centered around a factual or moral truth.

That is just the reality. But is it appropriate to hate what does not measure up with "moral" examples of the past? No.

Of course Mark Rothko is going to be different from Michael Angelo or Jackson Pollock from Claude Monet. That is just the way it is.

But to throw away what you cannot see personal value with may be realistic, and understandable, but in the end is ignorant.

So overall, anything that can be viewed as negative in the modern era can ALWAYS be paired alongside that which is positive. This has been true for the sixteenth, seventeenth, eighteenth, nineteenth, and twentieth centuries, while still remaining currently true.

If Watson has to be given examples of positive aspects of modernism within the arts and culture, I suggest that he do more research. But then again, he is probably incapable of finding real, hard data, or credible sources, when he only exists on a surface level (and I know this from personal experience, I used to be a subscriber)

P.S.

And NO, I would not say that this is a realistic portrayal of conservatism because what exists on the surface is usually not a summary for the entirety of people who exist within a political or social group/philosophy. Regardless, Fantano makes a great logical point while still remaining relevant while providing examples are spot on in making his point. Overall, this is a good video that deflates most of what Watson is saying as flawed and illogical while disproving him in a factual way.

Rating: B+

NOTE:

I may edit this comment so expect changes. If I do not than it is here to stay. I hope that you have enjoyed what I have written and find it to be a good contribution to Fantano's response.

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gigglyken · 4 years ago

Note

Prompt 49 with ler! Kaede and lee! Korekiyo

BET ler kaede has my soul and I love kiyo with my entire soul,, thanks again for the request! 💕 also, I hope you don’t mind is being platonic! ^^;

also dt to @catboyjaeger you absolute turnip I love you

Korekiyo let out a quiet, indifferent sigh through his mask as he stood up from the dining hall chair, the faint sound of the air conditioning unit simultaneously irrigated and kept him sane. It seemed to be nighttime, and honestly, the day had been pretty stressful for the anthropologist; his classmates had been yelling and arguing about pointless subjects for the entirety of breakfast, and again at lunch. Everything was just loud, too loud.

Still, like usual, he didn’t show he was bothered. Instead, he kept his eyes as emotionless as possible as he made his way to the library. If he couldn’t relax during his meal; he hoped that at least a good book would be able to calm his nerves enough for the lanky boy to fall asleep. However, when he finally arrived in the usually vacant library, Shinguji, for a split second, deflated when he felt the presence of another body.

“Oh! Hey, Kiyo!” The pianist practically skipped over to him in a manner he found way too cheerful for the evening.”

“Hello, Kaede.” He failed to focus his eyesight on her, opting to rather skim through the titles of the book.

“So, what are you doing here? It’s pretty late,” the blonde girl hummed inquisitively, standing a little closer to the tall male to keep him company.

“Im sure you are aware that I could be asking you the same thing, Miss Akamatsu. Nevertheless, I will answer your question.” The raven haired student gave his signature snicker, still staring at the shelves of leather books in front of him. “I am not too fond of people arguing, as it appears to stress me out. So, I have decided to try reading to calm myself down. I would usually prefer to be alone during times like these, but I’m sure that you have your reasons to be here as well, so it’s alright.”

A tiny frown made its way to Kaede’s face, and her expression instantly softened at his explanation. The way Korekiyo spoke so casually about it seemed to make her feel even more sympathetic towards the taller boy, and she didn’t need to think twice before wrapping her arms around Shinguji’s waist in what was intended to be a comforting embrace. Instead, the anthropologist tended up, nearly elbowing Kaede in the head out of surprise.

“Wha- Miss Akamatsu, what are you doing? This sensation...it feels quite strange,” he pondered aloud. In confusion, Kaede looked down, grinning when she found her hands on the back of his ribs from the hug. Experimentally, she sprawled out her fingers a bit against his sides, giving them a gentle squeeze, and the pianist’s smile widened when she heard the alarmed squeal leave his lips.

“I think I know why it feels weird, Kiyo.” Her eyes contained a mysterious gleam as she slowly and meticulously tapped trained fingers against the lanky male’s waist, feeling smug as Korekiyo began to slightly squirm in her hold. “It doesn’t feel weird; it feels ticklish, doesn’t it? You’re saying this tickles?”

Everytime the dreaded t-word left her lips, Kiyo grew flustered, and the pianist, easily catching onto her victim’s change in demeanor, put even more emphasis on the word. “Well, was I right? Does this tickle? It’s okay, it’s alright to feel ticklish! In fact, I find it adorable when people like you are ticklish,” she teased, but was interrupted when one of her hands squeezed just above Korekiyo’s hipbone, eliciting yet another flustered squeal from the boy.

“Ah, Akamatsu!” Korekiyo’s knees started to get weak from both the antagonizing teasing and the ticklish feeling on his sides. Having had a pretty secluded childhood and being a strong introvert the rest of his life, he wasn’t used to physical contact, much less being tickled. That little fact probably made the whole thing even worse for him; he didn’t know how to react, or where to put his hands, or why he was enjoying it. After all, he had studied humans for years, and he was pretty sure they were supposed to disliked being tickled.

Then again, he had usually been a part of the minority in most cases, so he really shouldn’t have been surprised.

“Hmm? What’s wrong, Kiyo? Does it tickle too much for you?” Kaede scribbled her fingers even faster, gently raking one hand up and down one side of his rib cage. “Aww, even with your mask I can tell that you’re blushing. It’s so cute! Are you embarrassed for liking this?”

“I don’t! I don’t like it!” Her casual tone and the way she picked up on his true feelings so easily had the anthropologist shrinking even further into himself. He had always been a calm, collected and reserved personality, so laughing and giggling like this definitely felt strange, even for him. Still, it was nice to finally laugh like this. It felt like he was regaining a missing part of his childhood.

After a few more minutes of constant, breathy laughter, the pianist finally backed off, and Korekiyo was able to catch his breath. He leaned against the side of the heavy bookshelf as he regained his energy, and gave a genuine, albeit hidden, smile towards Kaede.

“Thank you, Kaede. I do believe I’ll be able to sleep soundly tonight, after all.”

Kaede beamed back politely, her expression bright enough to to light up the dim room.

“Anytime, Kiyo.”

#tickling #danganronpa #korekiyo #kaede #ler!kaede #lee!korekiyo

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sahbibabe · 4 years ago

Text

hotel: lilith

Hotel Lilith is a safe haven for criminalized demons and halflings with nowhere else to go. Dante and Vergil, labeled as terrorists after Vergil's latest and last grab for power, are forced to retreat to the long hidden fortress after the local populace of Fortuna begins turning their attention towards Nero.

In an effort to keep him safe, both brothers keep their distance and keep an eye on the situation from afar, but they have a new mystery to unravel during their stay: and her name is [Name] [Surname].

chapter one. madame yulara.

BLOOD POURED ITS WAY down Vergil's back like a waterfall. It stained his once brilliant blue coat a dark red so deep that it was almost black. It tore in places to expose still healing flesh, pink and gory, knitting itself together in a painstakingly slow motion. The Yamato hung limply between his long, pianists fingers, arms too weak to lift it up and fight off anyone who wanted a second round.

"Damn." Dante stumbled up beside him, looking as worse or nearly as bad as he did. He held no weapon other than his gun and had been unwillingly stripped of his shirt and red leather jacket. Claw marks and bullet holes riddled his body like wicked artwork to the point where there was no skin visible beneath all of the blood. "When did the humans get their hands on angel blessed weapons?"

"They've always had it," Vergil exhaled lowly. His breath fogged in the air. "I'm certain they've never had proof to use it before now."

Dante swept his wrist across his nose. The only clean spot of skin on his hand came away bloody. "Huh. Would you look at that? Not healing as fast as I usually do. You?"

"Faster than you, it seems," Vergil answered. Several shallow cuts on his chest had already healed to faint pink lines. "But I wasn't the one taking hollow bullets filled with holy water to the chest, either, so there must still be some in your blood."

Dante choked out a laugh and reclined against a brick wall. "Didn't know I had enough blood left to make a difference."

"Well, well, look what we have here."

The sound of heels against pavement had Vergil turning around, Yamato raised, even though he was shaking hard enough that he couldn't hold it straight. His entire body rebelled against the action, pleading for him to let go and hit the ground face first, but Dante was behind him, breathing shallowly, and just barely clinging to the wall.

A sharp, black laquered fingernail pushed Yamato's blade to the side. Tingles and sparks, not entirely unpleasant, began crawling up his arms and shoulders and darted down his spine. His devil side, though tired and exhausted, rose to the surface of his consciousness to taste the air and the Identity of the new arrival. Dante's sharp inhale behind him confirmed his suspicions.

"Madame Yulara," Dante croaked, greeting the Mistress of Hell with a half assed bow. "I would greet you properly, but I can't exactly move my hand without letting my organs spill out on the sidewalk."

Madame Yulara--dressed in little else but what could only be described as strips of leather and lace--laughed lowly. Her long auburn hair brushed her hips as she shook her head in amusement.

"Dear Dante, I know you would if you could," she sighed. She glanced at Vergil with an unusually concentrated green gaze, then looked back at his brother. "You're in bad shape, aren't you, sweet boy? Your brother as well."

"Humans with blessed weaponry," Vergil explained when Dante began a rough, chest heaving cough. "I'm unsure of how many hits he took."

"I see." Drumming her fingers against her lips, Yulara reached over and pressed her palm against the wall. Where there were once bricks there was now a black door with a red neon sign upon it.

Hotel Lilith.

"Come inside," Yulara said urgently. "We will get you healed up in no time. In the meantime, while you recover, you can stay here. Free of charge."

"Your hospitality is not unwelcome," Vergil began,"but I insist that we--"

"Nonsense. I owe Eva more than I can say," Yulara rolled her eyes. "The least I can do is help you two boys. Now get inside."

"Thanks, Madame Yulara," Dante mumbled tiredly. "You're... the best."

"I know I am, darling."

Vergil, supporting Dante with what strength he had, followed the woman inside the hotel. The atmosphere quickly changed from the humid, somber tone outside to an electrically charged dry heat. Devils, half bloods, and Fallen alike resided within the room they had entered, all of them following the twins with their eyes and ears.

"In here," Yulara told him, gesturing to another door that she held open.

Inside was a room littered with surgical grade steel and white curtains. A steel table was put in the middle of it, equipped with restraints of various kinds, and had stirrups not unlike that of a gynecological exam chair. Judging by the faint smell of blood, Vergil could only guess it doubled as a birthing chair as well.

"Lay him down there," Yulara ordered. She busied herself by pulling out fresh scalpels and a giant pair of medical grade pliers. She laid them out on a tray and filled a syringe full of morphine. "This might not help a lot, but for now he'll need it."

Vergil laid his brother out on the table as she told him. She made quick work of restraining him to the table. When he caught her eye, she said,"I don't want his devil coming out and trying to get a taste of the doctor."

"You aren't doing it yourself?" he inquired.

"Hell no," she said dismissively. "I'm not qualified for demonic surgeries. Do you think you can control of your devil if it decided to come out right now?"

He highly doubted it, but one look at his brother lying prostrate on the exam table made his mind up. "Of course."

"Good." Yulara stuck her head out the door and yelled something that was smothered by the loud music pounding in the other room. Dante groaned, his words unintelligible. "Damn, wearing off too soon. Need a horse tranquilizer. No, better be an elephant dose."

She produced a second syringe from a drawer. It was the size of half her forearm and had a needle longer than her finger. She emptied its contents into Dante's thigh and the half devil slumped back, mouth open, oblivious to the world.

"Here."

Vergil found himself pricked with a smaller syringe before he could blink. "What..?"

"Xanax. I need you nice and relaxed when the doctor comes in. Don't look at me like that, it's to protect the doctor."

"Who is the doctor?" Vergil demanded.

Before she could answer, the door flew open. Vergil's devil nearly seized when the scent entered the room and pushed past his nose.

"Sorry! I was asleep!"

Sleepy eyed and with hair as bushy as a raccoons tail, a woman stood in the threshold dressed in what looked like a too short nightgown over a pair of scrub pants that looked too big for her. Her feet were bare and she had thrown a furry robe over her shoulders in apparent haste.

"[Name]," Yulara sighed in relief,"right on time."

Vergil held on to his chair tight enough that his knuckles popped. His devil tested the boundaries of his control, sluggish and weakened by the medicine, eager to sink its teeth into the young woman at the door but not out of rage, like he'd been expecting. It was brought on by a shot of lust strong enough to knock him off his feet. He knew what it was; heard rumors and read books, but never knew if it was true. Dante, responding unconciously, twitched on the table.

A female devil.

A self indulgent work, as you can tell. Takes place in the same AU as Divine Rebellion, connections to Bayonette.

#devil may cry #vergil x reader #dante x reader #dante son of sparda #dante sparda #vergil sparda #nero x reader

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gasp-iwrotesomething · 5 years ago

Text

Compass (SFW)

Summary: Xenia of the Autumn had been in mourning for over a decade when MC enters her life, sweeping Xenia into a whirlwind of excitement that was sure to suck the breath out of her lungs. After a night of stargazing that was a romantic date to anyone else who witnesses it, Xenia realizes that MC was someone she could always rely on--even when she was unready for anything romantic. Without her sweet freckled compass, where would Xenia be in the darkness that veiled Altadellys?

Word Count: 2,848

Genre: Fluff (SFW)

Warning(s): none, just enjoy spider wife being fluffy with MC :)

A/N: This is based on the song Compass by The Neighbourhood, I recommend plugging in some headphones and listening to it while you read this; it’s great!

Everything was perfect.

There wasn’t a hair out of place or a word missaid under the dark sky and everything was right. Beside Xenia, MC was a flame hooded by the dim starlight--burning bright beneath the shadow of the sky. Her hand, soft and warm and pleasant against the night chill, was furled with one of Xenia’s. It was a gentle touch--nothing overwhelming but nothing too unnoticeable to fly under Xenia’s radar. She was grateful for the touch and for the companionable feeling that simmered in her chest--a feeling Xenia hadn’t known the true vim of until this sweet heir came into her life. “Xenia?” MC’s sweetly toned voice pulls her from the spiral the spymaster had been swirling down and she turns her head, offering MC the attention she had spoken for. “Yes?” The emerald hue of MC’s eyes was almost as beautiful as the array of light speckling the sky--like a fallen emerald star had been engraved in her eyes. “I vaguely remember that you said you loved the stars; might I ask why you feel that way? Not that loving the stars is an oddity, I just want to hear what’s most appealing about them for you.”

If I don't have you with me, I'm alone You know I never know which way to go

Xenia’s eyes waver from the heir to the sea of light above her, her white eyes catching on the magnificent points individually. A saccharine lull falls into their conversation right before Xenia speaks again, pleasant aura building. “I believe a cluster of people have their particular reasons to love the stars,” she begins slowly, “but for me, I enjoy their lucid shine. Compared to the dark sky behind them, the stars offer a glow that is unable to be simulated with mankind’s architecture. Uniquely birthed from nature, meant to hang ceremoniously where no one could reach them. An untouchable beauty. They’re as much a conjuncture of the world as the ground is to the sky. Stars are simply... wondrous and have a remarkable shine in the nighttime, that is why I love them.” Her heartfelt monologue ends there, a sweet foundation beneath it all, one that was so tangible that it felt intrusive for MC to be listening. Yet she does, sensing that Xenia had to ramble a little for sake of spilling her heart--she was vulnerable, MC quickly notes. Xenia inhales and breathes in the serene yet earthy scent that surrounded them; a detail that only strengthened the comfortable air between them. “That’s endearing, Xenia,” MC chirps as her own eyes suffuse the gallery of white light above her, gaze tearing away to marvel the spymaster beside her, “I suppose I never thought of them like you do. I always just viewed them as a beautiful setting.”

I think I need you with me for all-time When I need new direction for my mind

Then there was a peculiar thing that happens. A rarity that changed the atmosphere. The two had gathered here as friends--accomplices, Xenia thought better--to further discuss their plans in terms of pinpointing a weakness of Tansy. But not a word of royalty left them mouths thus far; the only monarch being the severed string that stemmed between their hearts. A connection severed was a new joined, Xenia found. Even though the two of them wouldn’t speak of the harmony their hearts spoke, there was an air of understatement to it--the women knew of this bulbous feeling, of this... furnace that raged on every meeting they had. Even passing words were the strongest fuels at times, feeding the fire that connected them and specialized their bond. There wasn’t another she could treat the same pleasure to; only MC.

“Perhaps you’ve just been soothed by their luster all these years. I know I was at a checkpoint in my life.” Xenia murmurs quietly. She doesn’t elaborate anymore than that and MC was content with that; ever since she had come to know the Spymistress, she had realized that Xenia only shared excerpts of her past when she wanted. Xenia glances at MC out of her peripheral vision and notices the faraway glare in her eyes. What was that girl thinking? Was she mulling over the countless years lost to the starlight? Was she delving into the depth of Xenia’s words, picking apart every word to form an opinion? It was hard to divulge how the mill worked beyond the cape of fire that covers her head. Xenia wished she knew just a little more--it’d make her feisty little companion a much more predictable force to reckon alongside. The spymaster doesn’t realize her gaze has stayed on the redhead for far too long until the redhead blinks, swiping a hand in front of her eyes quizzically.

You'll listen to my lectures on the phone,

“Is there something wrong with the starlight? Because you seem to have found something else to marvel tonight.” MC quietly jests, a faint smile lighting her lips. That causes Xenia’s head to swivel back to the sky and a blush to cherry her face, something that hardly been seen in the dark and through her mourning veil. She was the last person that would ever be caught staring at another person rudely, and yet here she was, as guilty as a thief. “The star’s are exceptional tonight but-” “but what?” MC dices Xenia into even more futile pieces with the simplest words, her freckled face aglow silver from the moonlight. Xenia finds her breath after a moment more of averting the heir’s emerald inspection. “I find that you have a mouth that never closes, you seem to be abnormally talkative this evening. A penny for your thoughts, my dear?”

You'll help me find the treasure in the hole

As easy as the stars blanket their gathering, Xenia swivels the conversation away from her bashful flush, the pink dwindling into the standard grey of her skin. MC slumps, disappointed, before she recoups and speaks her mind--the mill begins to churn her shrouded thoughts. “There’s nothing individually weighing down on me--everything’s at a loss. Tansy is Queen of Lysende, I’m her little play thing for her entertainment, and worse yet, we are to not be seen together unless it is in terms of a council meeting. But even then, I am unable to converse with you, Xenia” MC vents as her orange-haired brows pinch together, forming a tiny wrinkle between her eyebrows. Before, Xenia had never spotted the small detail prior to now and she finds her eyes drifting towards it, just like the various other minutia that MC possessed. Like the harp’s strings feathering against Xenia’s fingers, the heir’s voice flutters wonderfully around her, pulling her in as effortless as her touch. A chorus to a melody Xenia had never heard plays through her head as she ponders over what to say next--and when the pianist of her mind taps a rhapsody that was treacherous to Xenia, the spymaster is perplexed. Just how has she changed in MC’s presence?

You'll tell me if I'm acting like a fool I know that you're not something to lose, now

“I know it is all tough at the moment,” Xenia gently commiserates, the hands not supporting her weight seeking MC’s hand to soothe the heir. She squeezes MC’s thin fingers and offers a sad smile, one that is brewed off the fumes of the reality they were facing. “But do not lose hope. Soon, Tansy will be a pesky vexation of the past and you will be on the throne, fixing every wrong Tansy articulated.” The spymaster assuages quietly. MC’s stare lifts from the ground and she meets Xenia’s eyes; her own sparkling. “You truly believe so, Xenia?” She has a look of utter dismay and helplessness set in her features, sharping the softness of her face. The sight was a kick to Xenia’s heart, and she trusts her bottom to brace her weight for the sake of sparing all of her arms to assure her sweet heir. She had a cunning feeling that MC was being dismantled because of Tansy but she had never known it to be this strong--it was like the floodgates of her emotions had been lifted and she was pouring her emotion until she ultimately felt better. “I know so, MC,” Xenia affirms, “you’re a wondrous woman capable of the world. There is not another that I trust to ascend the throne and trust that you will not exploit your power--only you.”

Though the tension drains from her shoulders, the dismay in her features is flushed into doubt and uncertainty; a second wave of insecurity lashing out. “But you don’t speak for all of Altadellys,” MC argues as she peers back up at the stars, their points of shine mirrored in her eyes, “who is to say that they will doubt my credibility. After all, I failed the Red Queen test and therefore no one has faith that I’m the heir. How could I possibly reassemble the public’s viewing of me?” Her sighs peels off into the darkness, taking flight with the scarce breeze that whispers this way and that. Xenia’s grip on MC doesn’t subside but her constant flow of comforting words does, her eyes fluttering close briefly. Was there even enough words in the world to say what Xenia wanted? There were so many adjectives--all pleasant--that Xenia could prescribe MC but was there enough time to speak every one? They had snuck away to meet and if Xenia knew any better, their rendezvous should end very soon. Her brilliant eyes open again and just the like the stars above, they shine brighter than any artificial light. “I understand that you must feel the future is uncertain but that isn’t true to me,” Xenia smiles wide, her lips curved in such a way that told MC that it was unguarded and sincere, “you are more than what Altladellys needs.

You'll tell me if I'm acting like a fool

“As I said before, there is not a thing in this world that you are ultimately unable to do.

I know that you're not something to lose, now

“There as many reasons to have faith in you as there are stars in the sky, my dear,

I've got something to confess,

“and the public will come around to bask in those reasons once you’re their queen and you prove your magnanimous heart and immense credibility.” Xenia finishes, her smile impenetrable, her soft fingers unyielding and a weight that MC could memorize for every moment they’re there but forget the luxuries of the moment Xenia lets go. The heir slowly registers the spymaster’s words, mulling over the swell of infection that weighed the words heavier, and a gradual blush the color of blood seeps into her cheeks. Xenia had just said that she was worth countless reasons to be believed in--to confide in--meaning that Xenia thought she was incredible and only expressed so through counting every star piercing the navy sky. It was hard not to get so flustered over praise that sublime from the Mistress of Spies herself--and during a star-dotted rendezvous at that. Xenia’s smile dwindles into something miniature but still saccharine, one that goads MC’s heart to pound harder in her chest. Those uncanny glowing eyes inspected her, watching the rouge coalesce on her cheeks and the emerald of MC’s eyes dilate with shock, then swivel away from hers for bashful reasons.

I'd keep you in my pocket to use

Typically, when MC became this flustered to the point of unable to meet Xenia’s eyes, she’d be gifted a husky quip--one that always hinted at something more yet something unreachable by her own hands. But that doesn’t come and neither does Xenia’s teasing smirk; just a soft gaze and delicate groove of her dark lips. MC attempts to recoup by pulling a Xenia and taunting her, hoping to alleviate the red infecting her face and the tips of her ears. “Does that mean that you stargazed to find my ultimate value? No one has scrutinized me so thoroughly before.”

You're my only compass,

Xenia’s smile doesn’t chip away but rather intensifies slightly, enough to crinkle her eyes with a fondness MC dared not question. Still, MC caught a wisp of mirth twinkling in her eyes and she made sure not to hold her breath like she wanted to. “Perhaps,” she relents, passing a glance to the sky, before returning her gaze back to MC, “or maybe I just took perspective in a way that others didn’t; I had faith that those reasons were as much a part of you as your freckles and elven ears. After you demonstrated the true utility and quality you offer to any ally you acquaint with, it was perspicuous that you’d be a constellation of light that’d enlighten more than just my mission. It was simply improbable to not trust your bubbly charisma.”

I might get lost without you

MC was awestruck. There wasn’t a single syllable that could filter from her throat--none comprehensible, at least--and she feels her lips move without her consciously ordering herself to do so. The flush returns and climbs up her nape but weirdly enough, she doesn’t mind it in the least. Xenia made her heart somersault and her spirit lift, as easy as the stars and their silver radiance. “Thank you, Xenia,” MC credits, her green eyes a lost constellation of pleasant sentiment, “I appreciate your beneficent words. You’re too kind to say such things of me--who was an orphaned barmaid of the Wilds before you swooped in and danced me into royalty, mind you.” She muses aloud, her heart a stampede rioting in her chest. The earnest openness of Xenia’s features spools into something much more guarded--much more measured, the way MC was familiar with when it comes to the spymaster. Still, a benevolent edge laces her mouth and she squeezes MC’s hand. “Perhaps at that juncture in your life, but now, it has been proven before your very eyes that you were destined for greater beyond the Wilds.”

Could you tell me where to go?

Xenia pauses as she eyes the moon stapled to the sky and the gears within her head groan to life and spin; rusty after a period of such little use. It was much later than she anticipated staying out with MC and she knew they had to return to their positions--return to their charades. Impertinent as it was, Xenia wished she could remain beside MC for longer than she was premeditated to, ignoring all of Altadellys for a stolen moment under the stars. Perhaps... perhaps she could configure something like this; something shrouded from suspicion but so unguarded that the whims of enjoyment and professionalism are worn down. Xenia chews the thought around in her head for a second, discovering its potential through every corner and curve, before she sighs and shoots MC a sympathetic look. “I’m deeply sorry, MC, but I think it is time we end this here. We are already remaining out longer than we originally coordinated.”

You're always there to help me when I'm down,

That disturbs the elation coating MC’s face and the heir frowns softly, her hands reluctant to pull away from Xenia. But the Spymistress was right: by staying out this late, that would rouse potential suspicion with not only Tansy but any nobles who noticed their conjoined absence. With a deflated sigh, MC lets go of Xenia’s fingers--stealing away the only bit of right she’d felt in this constancy of wrong--and dusts off her skin, rising to her feet. Xenia follows more elegantly and the two of them exchange stares that expressed sorrow in having to depart; to separate.

I'm lucky you've been keeping me around

“Until next time, Xenia,” MC softly remarks, her eyes softening at the idea, “good luck dealing with Tansy.” That severs the unfortunate tilt of her mouth and Xenia chuckles warmly, her face briefly lighting with a small smile. Even her mourning veil abruptly billows with her sharp breath. “You as well, Stargazer.

You're the star I look for every night,

“But in regards to our Queen: Tansy is more so a nuisance than anything else so the wish is unnecessary but dearly appreciated.”

When it's dark, you'll stick right by my side

With that, Xenia retreats into the shadows and her form melts within the darkness and MC is left alone. But she is giddy and warm, her heart still clutching the words Xenia left for her; from the name she kindly gave to MC to the ruthless dissection she did of Tansy’s character.

MC was glad that she was able to speak to Xenia that night. Without the Mistress of Spies there to strengthen her confidence in herself, who else would be her compass, there to guide her through thick and thin?

There were little names to come to her mind and atop them all, Xenia’s stood out as the most illustrious of them all.

Bold and beautiful, intelligent and cunning; everything MC had ever wanted to rely on.

~FIN~

#xenia of the autumn #reigning passions #lovestruck voltage

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spongeguyandlelouchvibridankia · 5 years ago

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SpongeGuy Reviews Every Disney Sitcom Ever!: Austin and Ally (1.1): “Rockers and Writers”

cI came, I saw, I.. Was ok with it.

Austin and Ally is a show about two people whose names you’ll never guess. It follows the adventures of Austin Moon, current internet music sensation and Ally Dawson, a shy but talented songwriter. Together, these two very different people try to make it in the music industry.

I remember when this show was SUPER POPULAR it aired all the time, and thanks to seeing a minute here a minute there I thought I would hate it.

And... I’m ok with it. Like, it’s not bad, it’s not great, it’s not quite good but it’s slightly good?

It’s hard to pin this one down so far, obviously once I’ve seen a few more episodes I will (I also must add thanks to an Even Stevens fan who contacted me about this that Yes, I am reviewing all the episodes when possible, not just the first one or two).

So... Yeah, let’s get to it!

SUMMERY: Ally Dawson, a shy songwriter, works at Sonic Boom, a music store owned by her father, Lester, located at the Mall of Miami. Austin Moon, an aspiring singer, interrupts Ally while she is in her practice room, singing a rough cut of "Double Take". Unbeknownst to Ally, Austin and his best friend, Dez, accidentally use the song thinking Austin wrote it himself, create a video, and post it on the Internet, after which Austin becomes an Internet sensation. After performing the song on "The Helen Show", Helen suggests that Austin returns and performs another original song. Austin isn't good at song-writing, and the only solution he can think of is to plead with Ally to write another song for him. Ally initially denies in anger, but later agrees to help him. The two bond while working on their next song, "Break Down the Walls", and Austin asks Ally to be there when he performs it. However, when the pianist gets sick, Ally has to fill in. This was all part of Austin's plan to help Ally overcome her stage fright, but it only ends in disaster. However, Austin and Ally become partners, along with Dez as video director, and Ally's best friend, Trish, as Austin's manager.

COMEDY: 3 Out of 5

Originally I was gonna give a 2, as this show wasn’t really funny, but the more I dwelt on it, the more I realized how unfair I was being, so I gave a 3. And I think this might be a good time to go over how disney channel sitcoms don’t all have the same humor despite attempting many of the same jokes.

Example: Liv and Maddie and Good Luck Charlie are your average sitcoms (in fact, their template are about half of every sitcom that’s isn’t a “high concept”), but despite this they have more unique senses of humor (snark, mockumentary interviews, characters are multi-faceted, humor doesn’t undercut the moment).

On the other side of that, we have Lab Rats and Pair of Kings. Both have different, interesting concepts for a sitcom (Bionic teens and two brothers who are kings of an island). However, they attempt the same jokes we’ve seen over and over again, alongside some asshole humor (Lab Rats does it better but still).

In other words, contrary to popular belief, a sitcom can be a sitcom like you’ve seen over and over and OVER again. But that doesn’t mean it can’t work. The proof is in the pudding: The 3 best ones I’ve seen so far are all about families and learning to live with each other and stuff like that, your typical sitcom fodder.

So then we get to Austin and Ally. It’s your typical disney sitcom with a sort of high concept: Someone wants to be a music star because Disney are good at finding those and Hannah Montana was such a success, another person is helping them/falling for them/their opposite. BOOM. Recipe for success.

And the humor for the most part (there is a little snark and some surprisingly ok visual humor and slapstick) is your typical sitcom humor, with the obvious gags, the idiot jokes, the teen humor, yada yada.

But I didn’t groan. Maybe it’s because of the leads, maybe it’s the atmosphere, but for once, a few sitcom jokes and a little snark went a long way. In a weird way, it’s Good Luck Charlie’s humor but less fun. But... Well, it worked for me! It’s hard to explain these things sometimes.

But maybe it boils down to characters, and how the two leads are surprisingly likable.

CHARACTERS: 3 Out of 5

First of all, let’s be honest: I was always gonna like Ally. She’s level headed, relatable, understandable, adorkable, shy, smart. Hard not to like her! No wonder she got a high position right now in the character ranking lists. And it was fun to be in her world for a bit.

The real surprise for me was Austin. While I have nothing against Ross Lynch (in fact I like his singing in Teen Beach Movie) the channel overexposed him a lot and I tend to dislike those kind of actors. That and his character is an idiot, so that was worrying.

But to my surprise, Austin was more of a PJ in Good Luck Charlie than a Brady Bunch and Ok Boomer from Pair of Kings. He’s an idiot, for sure, but more of the sweet, gullible, well meaning kind. I mean, any episode where a character accidentally steals a song (which is actually totally possible according to a friend of mine) and doesn’t come off as a jerk is impressive, but even when he tries to help Ally lose her stage fright by showing her on stage when she asked him not to comes off as him trying his best and not him being a dick. And Ally does sort of get revenge on him, so there’s that.

So yeah, the two leads are fun, sometimes even funny characters with well defined personalities and no asshole tendencies. That’s super!

Sadly, the rest of the cast falls flat for now (and I understand they get worse so YEESH). Tish (PAUL BLART’S DAUGHTER) is that kind of annoying best friend you see in so many of these, and Dez is the idiot best friend you see in most of these, and they’re just... They’re just like that the entire episode. Their running gags of getting fired and coming up with stupid merch ideas aren’t bad but they’re not great, and I prefered it when it was just Austin and Ally. Lester, Ally’s dad, is also possibly gonna hurt the show according to my research.

Also this is a small thing but the Ellen Degeneres parody is so true to real life I’m shocked it’s not.

Anyway, yeah, a weak cast outside of two surprisingly likable leads.

STORY AND HEART: 3 Out of 5

I was gonna give a 2 here as well but decided to bump it up to 3. Why? Because is was surprisingly invested (I used that word a lot today). It was a typical story, no doubt about it, but I still enjoyed it. I usually use this segment to sum up my thoughts, so I think it’s best put like this. This was a basic, average story. There was NOTHING new here. You’ve seen this a million times.

I still liked it. I didn’t LOVE it, but I liked it. It was fun in it’s own way, it was ok. I found myself struggling to sum up my feelings for this yesterday, and I think I know why. We as consumers have massive expectations. We want originality and subversion, yet also nostalgia. We want to be surprised, but we also want things to go exactly the way we think they should. We want something new, yet also old.

Austin and Alley isn’t as funny and breezy as Liv and Maddie. It’s not as wacky as Phil of the Future. Not as relatable as Stuck In The Middle, not as high quality as Good Luck Charlie, not as life like as Even Stevens. At the same time, it’s not as disappointing as Lab Rats, average as Dog With A Blog, Mediocre as So Random, annoying as Pair of Kings and kind of meh as Bunk’d.

It’s just ok. And... I think that’s ok. Not every show needs to be the second coming. Old tropes are used a lot for a reason, not just out of laziness but because they work. And sometimes, what we need after a long day is something that’s just ok and makes you smile.

I smiled watching this. I didn’t wish for something else. I just let myself enjoy something that wasn’t that great but wasn’t that bad.

Sometimes, we just need a smile.

And that’s ok. :)

FINAL SCORE: 9 Out of 15

Wow I didn’t expect that score or for me to get so philosophical, but here we are. I liked this, so I look forwards to the next one.

Anyway, next time we have Lizzie McGuire! Cool! I was waiting for that one! High expectations for this one!

https://docs.google.com/document/d/100qHOP9aQ1AmKbrYuc--CQAP3LQnHfsS/edit#heading=h.nh4udkykrnki (I should add that the theme song wasn’t ranked because I need to hear it again to re-evaluate it)

#austin and ally #ross lynch #disney #disney channel #disney sitcoms #bob sponge #review every disney show

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zoocross0vers · 5 years ago

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Happy Halloween 2019! “Carcass Bride: Part 1″

A/N: Happy Halloween everyone! Feliz Noche de Brujas a todos! Hope you eat plenty of candy and enjoy this little Halloween crossover between Zootopia x Corpse Bride!

Part 1 of 2

...

Carcass Bride

Part 1: Not According to Plan

She was married now…

She was MARRIED! But... she wasn't happy…

Earlier this morning, she thought her wedding would be happy...but that didn't turn out to be the case, because she was forced to marry someone else while her true betrothed had been snatched away from her. Snatched away...by a Carcass Bride.

Judy Hopps, the miserable bunny bride in question, sat traumatized beside her new husband -- a large, ‘wealthy’, and almost vicious looking brown buck with a mean face and clouded eye by the name of Lord Woundwort -- who had begun making a long speech about why Judy had been so lucky to have married him.

Judy meanwhile, continued to stare out vacantly into the distance -- wondering and thinking back on how all of this had happened in the first place…

Earlier that day…

She had sat at her vanity mirror, brushing the fur of her long ears to make herself look presentable in preparation for her wedding rehearsal. It was where she was to meet her future husband and to prepare for their wedding the following day.

Normally, she had always thought about marrying someone in the more traditional sense of meeting them, falling in love, and then marrying them. But then, the next thing she knew, her once wealthy family, had become completely broke -- without a penny to their name. And everyone knew that a broke rabbit household meant that it would be beyond difficult to feed over a hundred hungry mouths. Not only that, but access to a proper education would prove to be completely impossible for the younger members of their household.

Desperate for money and worried about their family's future, Judy's parents, Stu and Bonnie Hopps, thought it best to marry off one of their daughters to the bachelor son of the wealthiest family in Zootopia (after the Hopps’, of course), Nick Wilde.

Though the Wilde’s had agreed to marry their son to one of the Hopps daughters, there were only two small problems with the union. One, the Hopps’ weren't too keen on having one of their daughters married off to the nouveau riche. Seeing how the Hopps’ had been wealthy for generations, the Wilde’s were newly rich, and therefore common. This wouldn't have been much of an issue however, had the Wilde’s been rabbits like them, but then came the biggest issue regarding the Wildes. The Wildes were foxes.

Naturally, the Hopps’ were fearful and not at all thrilled at the idea of having one of their children betrothed to such a sly and untrustworthy species of predator. Their children weren't anymore thrilled than they were either as Judy, along with the rest of her single adult sisters, were all just as equally hesitant to marry a fox.

Despite her fears and insecurities over the arrangement however, it was the brave and big hearted Judy who stepped forth to accept marrying the Wilde’s son.

As she combed through her ears, giving herself the final touches to her appearance, she only hoped and prayed that she would come to like her future husband, even if he was a fox. She sat there for a moment longer when one of her tall ears stood one end. What’s that? She thought as she heard a gentle little piano melody playing from downstairs.

She wasn’t supposed to leave her room without one of her brothers chaperoning her, but that was the last of her concerns at the moment. Truth be told, who it was that was playing was a bigger concern to her. She had a few brothers who loved to play the piano, but those that did were all married and had left the Hopps household sometime ago. She had a few other brothers still at home who played, but none by their own volition. They all hated playing and it wasn’t time for one of their lessons. So who was it that was currently playing?

Judy left her room and wandered into her home’s main hall where the piano was located. She was pleasantly surprised to see that at the piano sat, whom she could only assume to be her fiancée, Nick Wilde.

From what Judy could see at the top of the stairway, the fox was tall (for rabbit standards anyway), slender, had a black tipped tail, and wore a charcoal gray suit. Judy placed a paw at her chest, touched by the music. She couldn’t believe her eyes and ears. All this time, her parents had made her believe that foxes were no good, uncultured brutes, and yet here was this fox playing a lovely piano melody with the same artistic grace as a professional pianist.

The speechless bunny walked down the stairs and curiously approached him, her arms at her back. She stood beside him, but he had yet to see her. He was so focused in his playing with those handsome emerald eyes of his. Handsome…

It was so odd, that that was the first word Judy could think of to describe him once she saw his face.

He continued playing without a care in the world until he moved his gaze in her direction and finally saw her. “Oh!” he pulled back, knocking down the piano bench back with his tail and nearly causing a decorative miniature vase and flower to fall from the piano. The fox quickly made a grab for it, ceasing the vase’s spinning and setting it back in place. He looked to her, embarrassed, and with his paws still around the tiny vase. “Uh...hehe, sorry about that.”

“Maybe I should be apologizing for startling you,” Judy said with a good-natured giggle.

“You didn’t startle me,” he defended, trying but failing at hiding his evident embarrassment. Judy glanced down to the knocked over bench. Nick’s gaze followed hers. “Oh, here let me get that,” he lifted it back up and began dusting it off, “Sorry about that. I guess it was kind of rude of me to just randomly start playing the piano.”

Judy’s eyes widened and she smiled, amazed and happy to hear how well mannered he was. “That’s okay. I was actually enjoying hearing you play.”

“You heard all that?” he asked curiously.

Judy nodded and answered honestly, “You play beautifully.”

Nick gazed into her bright amethyst eyes and suddenly felt his cheeks burn red, “Thanks, it’s kind of a hobby of mine,” he said with a bashful rub to the back of his neck. He then cleared his throat, adjusting his ascot, “Uh...say listen Miss Carrots?”

“What did you call me?” she asked with a cocked brow.

“I-I mean Miss Hopps!” he replied, trying to correct himself, “Sorry, sorry. I saw a bunch of carrots on my way in and their bright orange color really stood out to me, so I’ve kind of just had carrots in the mind. Didn’t know you guys grew so many, but then again you are rabbits so...” he chuckled nervously as Judy crossed arms, affronted. “I...probably shouldn’t have said that. That was probably rude right?”

“A little,” Judy replied a bit annoyed.

Nick sighed, deflating and unable to put up a confident facade in front of the pretty bunny. Normally, he’d have no problem hiding his fears and insecurities in front of other mammals, but he just simply couldn't with her. There was something about her piercing eyes that made him weak in the knees. It felt as if she was somehow able to see right through him. God did he hope that she was the Hopps daughter that was supposed to be his bride.

“Look, Miss Hopps,” he spoke sincerely, “I know that I'm not at all the ideal candidate for either you or your sisters when it comes to...you know.”

“Marriage?” she finished the sentence for him.

“Right, marriage,” he fiddled with his ascot, clearing his throat, “And--I guess what I'm trying to say is--I know that you're a fox and I'm a rabbit--No wait, ugh!”

Judy giggled, finding his shyness adorable.

Nick smirked at her, “And you're laughing. Good to know one of us is having an easier time at this than I am.”

“I'm sorry,” she giggled once more.

“Bet you can tell I'm no good at this sort of thing, huh?”

“Mm, maybe a little,” she teased.

Nick chuckled at her joke, “Wonder how my bride’s going to react when I make a fool of myself in front of her.”

“I think you already did,” she replied with a cheeky grin.

Nick’s eyes widened in surprise, “So you--You mean you're Judith Laverne Hopps?” he said with an all too pleased smile. She nodded in delight and Nick sighed in relief, “Oh thank goodness.”

Judy giggled with a bashful smile. “Goodness Mr. Wilde, I didn't know that you’d be so eager to marry a bunny.”

“Yeah well, you're the first one in your family so far who hasn't looked at me like she wants to run through a wall because she's so terrified of me.”

Judy frowned and her ears drooped at his statement. It shamed her to admit that she too had been hesitant about their union because she was so terrified of him being a fox rather than taking the time to get to know him and realize that he’s just a mammal, like everyone else. And so far, a very sweet and funny one at that.

Judy placed an understanding and apologetic paw at his arm, “I’m so sorry if either I or my family have made you and your family feel uncomfortable. I guess the only ones around here that were falling for their stereotype was us. Dumb bunnies, right?”

Nick smirked and shook his head. “I guess we’ve all just been a little dumb, jumping to conclusions before actually getting to know each other. I'd be lying if I said that I didn't have my own reservations about all this. Especially after we first came in, one of your brothers was sharpening a stake, which I'm more than certain was meant for me given the evil eye he was giving me. I was terrified he might’ve been your chaperone in introducing me to you, Miss Hopps.”

“Knowing my father, he might've made Samuel my chaperone,” Nick's eyes widened in fear at her words. Judy giggled reassuringly, “Don't worry, you wouldn't be a special case. My father has had Samuel chaperone basically all of my sisters.”

“That's a relief,” Nick replied.

“I guess it's a good thing I didn't wait for him and just came down here to listen to you play.”

“Oh?” he smiled confidently.

Judy took a seat at the piano bench, hovering her fingers over the piano keys. “I’ve always wanted to learn how to play the piano, but I was never allowed to.”

“Why not?” he asked with genuine concern.

“Music is considered improper for does. My mother always used to say that it was too passionate an instrument and we shouldn't feed the stereotype that we rabbits are good at multiplying by playing it.” Nick frowned, feeling for her, “I remember that I used to secretly try to play it when they weren't home, but I could never get a good melody out of it.”

Nick sat beside her, “Would you like me to teach you how, Miss Hopps?”

Judy cupped her paws with an eager smile, “Could you?!”

“Of course. May I?” he hovered his paws over hers. She nodded in response, allowing him to place his paws over hers. He gently rested his larger paws over hers. The second their paws touched, they couldn't help but look into each other's eyes and blush.

“Uh…” Nick cleared his throat and continued with his lesson. Judy quickly shifted her gaze to her paws, allowing him to guide her. “Let's start with something simple.” He guided her paws and fingers to play the first couple of keys from the song he was playing earlier. “Now you try on your own.”

He released her paws as she carefully repeated what he had just taught her. She smiled eagerly with a hop in her seat.

Nick chuckled, finding her behavior to be absolutely cute, “Alright, now try this.” He played the next part, his paws over hers once again. And just like the first time, she repeated the notes when it was her turn to play alone.

They continued like this until Nick had practically taught her the whole song. “Alright Miss Hopps, let's see if you can repeat the whole thing in one go this time around.”

“Okay,” she paused for a moment before pressing the keys, “Nick?”

“Yeah?”

“Seeing how none of my brothers or parents are here, could you please call me Judy instead?” she asked with a comforting smile. One which made Nick’s heart melt for her.

“Okay then, Judy. Though I could call you Carrots too if you’d like,” he teased at his own goof up from earlier.

“Har, har,” Judy 'laughed’, not minding the name anymore. She played on her own, carefully attempting to recreate the song in its entirety. So far, she had been hitting every note to a tee. “I'm doing it!” she squeaked with joy. “I'm playing the piano!”

Nick chuckled as he watched her with pride and admiration. She almost reached the song’s ending without a hitch, but then she accidentally played a wrong note. Her ears immediately flopped in embarrassment.

Nick couldn't help at laugh at how adorable she looked. “It's okay Judy. No need to be embarrassed. You’ve proven to be a fast learner. You’ll get it in time.”

“But I was doing so well. I accidentally thought that this was the right key to press, but I guess it wasn't.” She scanned her eyes over the keys again. “Which one was it again?”

“This one,” he pointed out, “”Remember, it goes,” he hummed the notes as he guided her paw once more over the keys, “And then you finish strong right…” he gently pressed his paw over hers and kept it there. Judy turned to him as he turned to her as well. He felt his heart flutter as she stared at him, “...here,” he said slowly, his brain struggling to keep up with him as he was caught in her gaze.

It was Judy who slowly ended the quiet moment once she very hesitantly removed her paw from under his. An evident blush decorated her face. She looked away bashfully and cleared her throat, “You know, since I was a child, I dreamt of my wedding day. It was just this silly little fantasy that I used to have--that I’d meet a young buck and we’d fall deeply in love and then we’d spend the rest of our lives together. I guess, in hindsight it's kind of dumb now isn't it?” she asked him shyly.

“Yeah, I guess it is kind of dumb,” he chuckled, “No! I-I mean, not that's not dumb at all. I completely get what you're saying. I also had different expectations for my future,” he said with a casual lean on his elbow toward the little vase, “But I think I'm actually pretty okay with how things turned ou--” he accidentally knocked the little vase over with his elbow.

Judy gasped, quickly reaching out for the little flower, while Nick picked up the vase. “I'm sorry,” he sincerely apologized. Judy didn't seem to mind, she simply brought the flower to her nose and smelled it. She then handed it to him with a sweet smile and he took it just as sweetly. Both of them knowing without any more words that their union, though not exactly what either of them had envisioned in their youths, would prove to be just as happy, if not better than what they had imagined.

…

A/N: What? That's it? No, there's more to this story, hurray! This is just Part 1 of this 2 parter story. I'll try to post the rest of it tonight, but since it is Halloween and in case I’m unable to post the rest today, the next part will be up tomorrow Nov 1. Just in time for all those boys and ghouls who aren't quite ready to move on from Halloween just yet. ;)

By the way, in case you're wondering who Woundwort is, he’s an evil rabbit from a movie/Netflix series called Watership Down. Check it out if you haven't it's good. Though I do suggest check out the Netflix one if you're not good with violence. Now there, you bwill believe that bunnies can INDEED go Savage! O.O

P.S. I know a lot of people really like Emily (I do too), but I also really love Victoria. She’s so sweet and worked really hard to get back to Victor, so I thought it would be nice to see a little more from her perspective (through Judy though, of course)! ;)

Happy Halloween everyone! :D

#zootopia #wildehopps #corpse bride #nick x judy #judy x nick #fanfic #halloween 2019

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solarsolei · 4 years ago

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Haikyu! Prompts

Sorted by ships

Kagehina

An punk x soft boi au where Hinata is the punk boi and Kageyama is the soft boi but secretly like the other's aesthetic so they try to copy each other subtly (like Kageyama wears dark earrings while Hinata wears soft colored bracelets).

A YouTube au where they are a online couple but only do it for clout only for them to actually end up slowly falling in love with each other the more time they spend with each other (and a little meddling from AsaNoya and Daisuga).

A university au where Hinata is dancing major and Kageyama is his pianist who he falls in love with and is constantly hitting on him but is always getting rejected until Kageyama agrees to a date with him (good for 5 times + 1 type fics).

A Hogwarts au where Hinata is in Slytherin and Kageyama is in Gryffindor. Nobody really thinks that they should be in those respective houses until they really see the true side of themselves that show why they are in the houses they were put in (like Kageyama being brave and confident and Hinata being cunning and ambitious).

An angsty prompt following the cannon story of Haikyu where Hinata is a depressed and alone bean and finds happiness in being with Kageyama until Kageyama pushes him away or avoids him for reasons unknown.

A fic following the cannon story of Haikyu but is about a date night between Kageyama and Hinata. They talk about their feelings and have dinner and movie. Classic cheesy lovers deal.

DaiSuga

An arranged marriage au following the cannon story of Haikyu where the two of them have known each other for a long time and are actually betrothed to each other since childhood.

Secret lovers au where the two are dating but can't really show it in public because Daichi' parent(s) are against them dating and forbade it.

Future family au! Where they have kids and is a happy wholesome family fic. (Please make more of these.. I need more wholesome fics after all the TsukiYama angst nowadays).

A royalty au where Daichi and Suga are yet again betrothed since a young age but is called off once their two kingdoms go to war (I see this one being more angst and having Daichi become Deadchi).

A humorous chatfic where they try to juggle being team parents and lovers but their crow children make it too hard for them to be the latter.

A Gotham type fic where I envision Daichi being a Detective and Suga being a Harley Quinn type villain. They are old time rivals as Daichi strives to catch Suga and Suga is always running away. Their bond starts off as mainly rivals but after a heist gone wrong and a betrayal by Suga's lover that leaves him captured by Daichi, it evolves. Because not only does Daichi tries to help Suga get better mentally, he allows the villain to stay with him and gives him a stable way of living.

TsukiYama

A YouTube au where Yamaguchi does makeup vids and vlogs while Tsukishima is his manager/ boyfriend. The audience has always thought of Yamaguchi as single until he refers to someone off the screen as "babe" and a bunch of speculation and rumors start spreading about who he is dating. Worried, Yamaguchi tries to figure out a way to dismiss them only for Tsukishima to suggest that they should do a boyfriend tag to announce that their dating to Yamaguchi's audience (Rosana Pansino is my inspiration behind this).

A star tears au where Yamaguchi develops the disease early when he was a kid and has developed blindness due to it. He has always stuck to Tsukis side because he was in love with him but also because he couldn't see without him.

A fic where Yamaguchi is getting married but not to Tsukki. After years of chasing him, he have up and found someone else to give his love to. On his wedding day, while he was getting ready, his childhood friend comes to see him and talks to him. Their conversation leads to Yamaguchi running away with Tsukki leaving his s/o at the alter.

A fanfic about a shared playlist that they use to communicate and share they're feeling throughout the years. Until one day, Yamaguchi finds "Latch by Sam Smith" saved to their playlist.

A fic where a guy from another team takes interest in Yamaguchi and starts flirting with him nonstop. Yamaguchi being oblivious doesn't notice since he thinks the guy only wants to be friends but Tsukishima can tell that he definitely doesn't wanna be just friends with his best friend.

Kuroken

A hospital fic where Kenma has a weak immune system and is always getting sick. He has no one to take care of him and works himself till he drops which leads him in the hospital more times than enough and nurse Kuroo is tired of patient Kenma coming back to hospital.

A drunk Kenma fic where Kenma comes home from a company party drunk and has Kuroo help him nurse a hangover.

A royalty au where Kenma is a prince of the kingdom of Nekoma but no one hardly knows that he exists because no one has seen or heard of him outside the castle. One day he tries to leave the castle to explore and see what the kingdom he is going to lead looks like only to be kidnapped and held hostage by Kuroo and his gang of theives.

An au revolving around another series called Toliet Bound Hanako Kun. Kenma is student that goes to an academy that is swarmed in rumors about ghost and mysterious things that happen after the final bell rings. After hearing that one of the school mysteries can revive the dead, he seeks it out in order to bring back his dead friend, Kuroo.

An angsty fic where Kenma is the best man at Kuroo's wedding and is forced to watch his best friend be happy with someone else that isn't himself.

A God au where Kuroo, the moon god, is vying for the affection of the sun god, Kenma. The only problem is they only have a short time to meet, at sunset and sunrise, and Kuroo is going to use all that time to win the affection of his beloved Kenma.

These are the only prompts I have right now. I will probably write some of them out because I am inspired at the moment to write that TsukiYama YouTube au. If I have more ideas, I will probably post them as well and if you want to use my ideas fo right ahead but make sure to credit me!

#hq #haikyuu!!#writing prompts #hq kenma #hq hinata #hq tsukishima #tsukiyama #kagehina #daisuga #kuroken #kuroo tetsurou

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joie-university-rp · 5 years ago

Text

Dear DANTE NOIRE,

It is with great pleasure we invite you admission to Joie University! Welcome to the Thunderclap family!

Congratulations, JUSTIN! Please be sure to check the New Members’ Checklist and send in your character’s account within 24 hours from now. We cannot wait to see all that you will bring to this roleplay! We love you already!

OOC INFORMATION:

Name/Alias; pronouns: Justin, he/him

Age, Timezone: 20, MST

Activity, short explanation: 3-4 hours a day, after work.

Ships: Dante/Kurt since I am filling the connection. Dante/anyone.

Anti-Ships: Nothing.

Triggers: None for me.

Preferred photo for Character’s ID (please give a link): https://media.gq-magazine.co.uk/photos/5d138d392881cc034d0a7267/master/w_1280,c_limit/Adam-Driver-04-GQ-12Dec17_Dante-Brookes_b.jpg

Anything else: I’m filling this connection. https://joie-university-rp.tumblr.com/post/189809373804/requested-connection-for-kurt-hummel-suggested

IC INFORMATION:

Full Name (First, Middle, Last): Dante Matthew Noire

FC: Adam Driver

Age/Year at University (Freshman [1st Year], Sophomore, Junior, Senior, or Graduate Student): 24 years old, freshman/first year

Birth date (MONTH DAY, YEAR): August 13th, 1995

Hometown (please be sure to check the hometowns listed for characters your muse is related to!): Los Angeles, California

Gender/Pronouns: Male, he/him.

Sexuality: Pansexual

Major(s): Philosophy

Minor(s) [optional]: Songwriting/Music

Housing request (remember, only the president of a Greek Organization is required to live at a Greek House to be in it!): Schuester Dormitory Single Dorm 205

Extracurriculars (Click here for the list. Be sure to specify any executive board positions [i.e. president, secretary, etc.] If something isn’t listed, please put it here and we will add it to the masterlist!): Glee Club Member, Fencing Team Member

Greek Life Affiliation [optional] (Please be sure to specify any executive board positions [i.e. president, pledge educator, etc.] or if your character is not yet a member, but plans to rush): None.

CHARACTER PROFILE (TW; Alcohol abuse, suicidal tendencies):

Dante was born into a relatively normal upper-class family. His parents were a very successful pair, his mother a lawyer and his father a banking executive. He lived in peaceful comfort, went the best private schools for teaching, yet when it came time for him to start building towards a career path, he couldn’t seem to pick one. He was a joy in the classroom and had a knack for tutoring other students that struggled as well. Alas, he didn’t want to be a teacher like his mother recommended, or a social worker like his father suggested. He found his true home in the music room. His parents had him learn piano and other various instruments, including vocal lessons, much to their detriment. When it came to his senior year of high school with not a single college application submitted, Dante came clean to his parents; he wanted to be a musician.

He moved away from L.A. when his family rejected his selected career path, especially after they cut him off from his allowance. When he got to New York, he was dead-broke, but found a job quickly as a jazz -ballad singer and pianist at a couple bars around the city. He sang in parks and street corners, releasing self-written songs online, hoping one day he would get noticed. It wasn’t until he actually took a piece of his father’s advice that he started to gain fame; “Dress as if you already have the job when you go in for the interview.” So, Dante gave himself the new look, dressing like the jazzy, big band singers and performers of old, promoting his image as well as his music.

Dante’s relationship with Kurt ran along with his quest to fame. He met Kurt during one of his nights working at an underage-friendly jazz bar near NYADA’s campus. Due to his talents, the students that came in would tip him well. It was in September of 2016, one year into Dante’s tenure in New York, did he spot the other man in the same seat once a week. It didn’t take long for Dante to introduce himself. Kurt and Dante together felt like they were two puzzle pieces, making a complete picture. When Dante started to gain a small following online, he made efforts to separate his professional life from when he was at home. Kurt made him feel like he could be his true self, open and free, yet while he was on stage, performing for an audience of strangers, he was putting up an act. He knew Kurt’s voice was magnificent, but he never wanted Kurt to think he was using him like that to promote his own career. Dante loved Kurt, and he wanted to keep Kurt far away from his growing spotlight. Let Kurt find his own dream, his own claim to fame, with Dante supporting him the entire way. At least, that was the promise Dante proposed to Kurt with in 2017.

As his fame began to grow and explode, the lines between his face to his growing public and at home began to mix. Dante would come home shitfaced from some party, or a concert, or PR event. Photos online with him holding fans close, kissing their cheeks, and being flirtatious would come out in the tons each time he stepped outside. Kurt would have to sober Dante up, thwarting his attempts to get into his pants. Kurt never obliged while he was drunk, which would result in a heated argument. It wasn’t until the next morning that he would apologize. Trust became very thin, very quickly, turning into a vicious cycle, over and over. It was Dante returning from his first 3-month tour, as drunk as ever, that ended the relationship for good. Another argument had broken out, this time Kurt demanding to know why there were clips online of him running around some party with his hand in some girl’s back pocket. Dante became furious Kurt would think he cheated, yelling up and down it was just for PR. Kurt didn’t buy it, eventually locking himself in the bathroom when Dante threw a glass at him. It wasn’t until Dante woke up the next morning, somehow in his bed, that he realized just how badly he had fucked up. Kurt left him, with the ring on the kitchen counter, the glass cleaned, and fresh coffee brewing in the pot.

The depression that followed Kurt leaving had Dante near suicidal. He tried to find Kurt; his number was blocked, and when he contacted NYADA to find him, they said that he had dropped out. He was blocked on social media, using dummy accounts to find out none of them were being updated. Kurt had disappeared, and there was no way Dante could find him. He gave up, vanished for months from the public eye, nearly destroying his career in its infancy. In that time, Dante wrote songs, poems, and love letters for Kurt he could never send. When his agent demanded work from him, he just tossed the papers on the table in frustration, that having been his only work during that time. It was a good thing his agent had more business sense than Dante, recommending he commit his works to the studio, to audio, to music. And hence, his chart-topping, record breaking, radio dominating album, ‘To Kill the Canary’, was born. It tore away from his jazz swings of the past into a ballad genre, featuring less sax and more acoustic guitar. The day the album released, he saw the crowds form at his feet, resonating and praising his work. He was determined to live despite what happened, even if he couldn’t seem to move on.

With all this success, why attend Joie for a degree? He was set for life, he didn’t need more education. Dante’s agent thought the opposite. With the influence he held, and with him turning twenty-five in August, they thought it would look great for his image if he wasn’t just some good-looking musical flounce, doomed to fail when he was no longer dominating the public. They opted for the Emma Watson route; go to college. Get a degree. That way, he was a cut above all the others in his industry; he wasn’t just a talent, he was educated. He chose philosophy as his major over music because he already mastered music. He didn’t want college to be a complete waste of time, so he decided to learn something completely new. Joie was an easy choice for a university; it was a world-renown college, one his fans would recognize. The fact one of his dummy accounts notified him of a post to Kurt’s Instagram had absolutely nothing to do with this college selection. Nothing at all…

STUDENT CENSUS SURVEY:

(Please answer the following questions IN CHARACTER. Responses can be as long or short as you see fit!)

What made you want to attend Joie University?

The prestigious nature of the school seemed the perfect place to both earn my degree and gain life experience I have been lacking. The administration seemed accommodating considering my current position and gave the impression that I would be treated just like everyone else. Overall, I felt very welcomed and fell in love with Joie instantly.

What are at least 3 positive or neutral and at least 3 negative traits that you believe you possess?

My most positive trait would be my unwavering determination. Even in the face of my family being nay-sayers in the quest for my dreams, I went after them anyway. Now, I wish to prove there is more to me than a pretty voice, exceed my own expectations. Perhaps that is my second trait; ambition for a new challenge. No mountain is too high for me. And that ties into my third best trait being creative problem solving. I simply cannot take no for an answer. If there is a will, there is a way, and I have a lot of willpower.

As far as the negatives of my personality, every positive is a doubt edged sword. For all my determination, it is very difficult for me to know when it is time to stop, reflect, and take it what is around me. I am always pushing for the next goal, leaving me often forgetting to savor the moment. I don’t know when to stop pushing for more, for better. This has had my personal relationships suffer in the past as well, and I do plan to remedy this. Apologies are another weakness of mine. For all I try to correct any wrongs on my part, simply saying ‘I’m sorry’ seems to escape my mind. A third flaw… I am frequently told I am too generous with my money. It isn’t like I could possibly use it all, so I use it on others. This has lead to a few personalities latching onto me simply for my wallet or my fame. I suppose that makes me a sub-par judge of character.

Which of your traits do you value most?

My ambition, by far. Taking on the impossible and making it believable is something I enjoy doing, both in music and in life. I wish to up the ante by studying for my degree, see what challenges I can tackle next.

How can that trait benefit the University (or its student body) as a whole?

Being I am a special case, it would be no lie to say my experience in the school could lead to positive press. I would also be interested in investing in the school through funding scholarships and such, once I am no longer a student. I do believe in the power of education, so on the same hand I do not wish to distract from other students attending. Making a show of myself here is not the goal. I wish to meld into the student body just as a regular attendee, no special treatment. That is what I could bring.

What do you hope to gain from your experience at JU?

The typical college experiences. The ups and downs of dorm life, the stress of finals, the development into a greater person leaving than you were when you arrived. I want all these things.

What is a quote or song lyric that describes you?

“I wanna take you high up, Let our hearts be the only sounds, I wanna go where lights burn low, And you’re only mine.” -James Bay, ‘Wild Love’

#Accepted

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jeonbase · 6 years ago

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Hi Andrea can you please recommend me some angsty yoonkook fics ? I need a good cry akdkz thanks !

i think i actually made a list before? but i’ll just redo it

hope u don’t cry too much ;;

la douleur exquise - sobi

(au, ghost au, angst):

[ la douleur exquise : french - the heartbreaking pain of wanting someone you can’t have. ]

the boy with the scarf changes everything.

(this is one of my ult favorite angst fics)

to prosper - xiajin

(mythology au, fluff, angst, love at first sight, forced separation, light smut)

do you adore me as much as i adore you?

(i love hades!yoongi x perse!kook so much)

i hear you in the spring breeze - ial

(au, angst, implied depression, implied suicidal thoughts, major character death)

[17/09/01 2:12 AM] yoongi: i still dream about you[17/09/01 2:12 AM] yoongi: a lot[17/09/01 2:12 AM] yoongi: more than i should[17/09/01 2:12 AM] yoongi: is that weird

[17/09/01 2:43 AM] yoongi: don’t answer that

[17/09/01 5:57 AM] yoongi: is it though

(breaks my heart every time i read it but i love it so much, beautiful fic)

slow song - darling

(hyyh au, angst, implied domestic abuse, destructive suicidal thoughts, hurt/comfort)

don’t do over.

do better.

and like flowers in his hands, death blooms - bellamees

(hades/persephone retelling, angst, mild smut, mentions of death)

“i have this friend, he has a spare room,” namjoon says, and he sounds apologetic. “he’s an undertaker.”

heart bind - xiajin

(fwb au, famous yoongi, singer jeongguk, emotional hurt/comfort, angst, mentions of starvation, mentions of attempted suicide, internalized homophobia)

yoongi didn’t need to break his heart; jungkook did it all on his own.

Not Dark Yet - dreamingdaegu

(au, angst, parallel universes)

Every year, Jungkook returns to the forest.

Maybe this year he will find what he’s hoping for.

i know i’ll fall in love with you, baby - witheredleaf (micooled)

(soulmates au, fanboy jeongguk, rapper yoongi, fluff and angst)

The soulmate/soulbond au where Yoongi is part of a famous rap duo and Jungkook is his diligent fanboy, they meet at a fansign and things escalate from there

(alt. Yoongi didn’t sign up for this)

eternity - xiajin

(au, spirits, angst, tragic lovers)

while the sun creates, the moon waits.

the nights really were made for saying things you can’t say tomorrow day - siderum

(canon verse, slow burn, angst, jeongguk centric)

“you know, the fact that my rap puts you to sleep should be insulting,” yoongi says wryly.

the continuation fic ‘color in your cheeks (the feeling flows both ways)’

algae bloom - cherryjjk

(canon/idols, angst with happy ending, fluff, smut, slow burn, praise kink)

“You have no goddamn idea, kid!” Yoongi screams, shoving Jeongguk away from him hard, just to get some space, “I hate myself for doing this to you. Every single day I wake up wishing it could be simpler. Wishing that I could have fallen for Jimin, Hoseok, fuck, anyone else but you.”

alternatively; yoonkook sort out their feelings, together.

hunt you down, eat you alive - notyoongs

(zombie apocalypse au, bunny hybrid jeongguk, angst, fluff, smut)

“What’s going on?” asks Jeongguk sleepily, nearly tripping.

Yoongi doesn’t answer, just moves them along the walls until they get to the living room and he peers out of the window. “Fuck,” he says, hurrying to pull Jeongguk toward the door. “Fuck, fuck—”

“Hyung,” whines Jeongguk, rubbing at his sleepy eyes, and Yoongi finally turns to look at him.

“Zombies, Guk-ah,” he says. “There are zombies outside.”

(or: yoongi finds a bunny hybrid. the zombies find them both.)

siren song - xiajin

(magic au, angst, hurt/comfort)

the thing about jungkook is that he’s a bit of a spacey witch.

with you, anywhere - fruitily

(hyyh au, angst with happy ending, amnesiac jeongguk, light smut)

“i loved you, too,” he says, but it’s not true. he did a lot of things, but he never lied to jungkook. so he corrects: “i love you, still.”

aere perennius - bellamees

(gods & goddesses au, tragic romance, angst with happy ending, hurt/comofrt, mild smut, reincarnation, soulmates)

“one thousand three hundred and seventy-six years, hyung.”

or; gods never die, until they do.

As venom as love itself is - monoxxide

(au, emotional/psychological abuse, hate sex, angst, love/hate, verbal humiliation)

Jeongguk is weak and just can’t help but loving Yoongi

Yoongi is weaker and just can’t stop Jeongguk from loving him

Your Smile Is My Happiness - Sealegs2414

(angst, fluff, pining)

“Hyung…” the shorter male just grunted in reply.

“Is there a reason your knees are shaking and your hand is squeezing like there’s no tomorrow?”

Yoongi refused to turn his head towards Jungkook and meet his gaze. If it hadn’t been for the fact that it was really dark outside even with all the lights of the city, Jungkook could have seen his hyung blush. Sadly that was not in the cards for him to night. The two could see each other just fine but it wasn’t quite bright enough to see any dusting of pink on either of their faces.

A gruff, “No,” was the reply he got as well as a forced relaxation in the grip that the elder had on his hand but it still never moved. The knees however, well they got a little worse before they got better.

mouthful of forevers - notyoongs

(goblin au, major character death but not really, past minor character death, soulmates, fluff, angst with happy ending, eventual smut)

he can’t help the worry that gnaws at frozen feet as he waits for jeongguk to summon him, waits for the tell tale smoke that rises from his hands, lets him pinpoint jeongguk’s location and go to him. but it doesn’t come—it never does. and it’s new: this yearning. inexplicable, almost, for a heart that has beat for hundreds of years and never allowed itself to feel something like this.

maybe it’s time that yoongi let himself feel it. let himself acknowledge all of it—the way jeongguk has nestled into his heart, has made a place there for himself with candles and glittery costumes and bunny smiles. the way jeongguk has convinced him, bit by bit, that there are worse ways to live. yoongi is supposed to die—he was supposed to the first time, centuries ago. but now, finally, he understands something he couldn’t anticipate when he waited all of those centuries for his bride to show up: it’s not a punishment to live if he finally has something worth living for.

(or: yoongi has waited almost a thousand years for his bride, like the universe intended. but when jeongguk finally shows up, yoongi stops playing by the rules. a guardian: the great and lonely god au.)

transatlanticism - bellamees

(dystopia au, sun/moon au, night/day au, mutual pining, love at first sight, mentions of sexual content, angst with happy ending)

jungkook lives in the day. yoongi lives at night.

(or: the realms of day and night, two different worlds coming from two opposite poles, mingled during this time.)

sonata - numajiri

(au, pianist yoongi, cellist jeongguk, light angst)

yoongi’s fingers slot onto the keys like the first words they have ever known

all the ashes in my wake - shelightsupwell

(hyyh au, explicit sexual content, hurt/comfort, suicidal thoughts, mental health issues, minor violence, implied/referenced child abuse, angst, angst with a happy ending)

Hoseok is right. Yoongi can’t expect Jungkook to read his mind. He just has to tell him straight out that sometimes he feels like garbage and he just wants to crawl into the nearest trash can and set it on fire from the inside, and it’s got nothing to do with whether or not he’s actually happy, because he absolutely is, but also he’s not.

Two years after Yoongi ran away from home, he’s reunited with Jungkook, and childhood friendship gives way to romance, but for Yoongi, struggling with depression, the relationship is as much panic-inducing as it is comforting.

surrender - notyoongs

(tokyo ghoul au, smut, heavy angst, murder, bloodplay, power dynamics, secret relationship, body horror, self mutilation, cannibalism)

jeongguk could kill him, but—he doesn’t. and maybe that’s enough to call it love.

the sound of winter - officialmaknae

(werewolf/abo au, alpha yoongi, omega jeongguk, slow burn, angst, rape/non con elements, underage drinking, blood and gore, minor character deaths)

Yoongi has a lot on his plate, but when his pack discovers a small pup in their territory, he finds that he’s about to have a lot more.

Pale Petals - sue_bts

(prince and peasant au, prince yoongi, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, tragic romance, past abuse)

Min Yoongi is blind in his arrogance and power. Jeon Jungkook is a petal the prince plucked from a bouquet.

#i haven't rlly read anything new in a long while tbh #asks #yoonkook #ficrec #also wanted to add some bluemixtape fics but...#then i Remembered...#they deleted :((#i miss them and their fics

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sectasemprum · 6 years ago

Photo

{A CURE FOR ACHINESS}

{PART I} {PART II} {PART III}

RATED: T

The last time I read self-insert fanfiction, my family was still using dial-up. Now, with the Internet at my fingertips, I am the one writing it.

Here’s more of what I started writing one sleepless night. It has everything nobody ever asked for: It has an embarrassing crush on your Head of House, watered down versions of Hogwarts Mystery characters and a main character called Whyen because I’m not as funny as I think I am.

This part has only about a twelve hour timeskip and includes another snogging session, but this time with a girl because I love girls myself, curious cats and steaming potion brewing.

“Was that the fifth or sixth drop?”

Penny pulled you away from the cauldron and pushed you to sit up against the stone wall. “Hand the fluxweed oil over to me.”

You stared at her once the storage room stopped spinning.

“So,” you placed it in her open palm. “The sixth?”

“You let me worry about the drought,” she straightened your robes before returning to do your brewing for you. Yet again. “You worry about all the rumors going around.”

You couldn’t be friends with the most popular girl in your year and not be up to date with all the gossip. Penny Haywood always made sure you were. You sometimes wish she didn’t.

“You mean about Bill and I?”

Was there anybody, student and staff member alike, who hasn’t seen or at least hear of a sighting of you two snogging?

“You know, Bill thought you fancied him,” she stirred with a practiced precision, not stopping or even slowing when she peered over her shoulder. “Ever since he had you talk to Emily. He’s been convinced you failed to warm her up to him on purpose.”

“What? Tyler is a stuck-up, shallow–”

“We both know it was a loosing battle, but that’s what Charlie told Barnaby,” she smiled to herself then. “And Barnaby told me. These Weasley boys should be more careful who they confide in.”

The rumor mill must have been dry the week every Slytherin was talking about you and your weakness for the enemy. You didn’t let their venom fester. You didn’t care if he was Godric Gryffindor himself. He was your friend.

You would have never guessed the rumor escaped his house, not to mention his own mouth!

“Barnaby told you that Charlie told—”

“That’s last year’s news,” she was back to her cauldron and its bubbling contents. “I was talking about the two of you getting caught by Snape,” her hand halted then and her whole body stirred instead. “And him carrying you off into the dungeons like the vampires do in muggle stories.”

“Penny?!”

“Merlin, look at your face!”

Your face? What about your face? Didn’t it burn off the second it went aflame at the mention of his name? There is no face!

“I told the portraits it must have been some other in a green dress,” your friend was on her feet and looking up at that face. “I told them to keep quiet about it in case it turned out to be true.”

“Penny–”

She continued to stare at it, at your simmering face and beyond it at what it betrayed.

You couldn’t be mates with the most popular girl in school and keep your secrets stored away. Penny Haywood made sure you didn’t. She made sure you spilled.

“It is true, isn’t it? You literally sucked up to Snape–”

“Penny!”

“Tell me it isn’t true!”

“Penny, the potion!”

There was no saving it. You had to suffocate the fire before the drought could spill over. You had to pull her back and push her against the wall.

“Look at me.” You had to stare at her, at her face. “He saw my tits for the first time and I think everyone agrees he cleans up well. He made the first move and from what you’ve just said, it’s no wonder why. He fancied that I fancied him. Bill and I are just friends. Yes, we snogged—”

“You’re covered in hickies,” she managed to get in the breath you were sharing between your mouths

“We got carried away,” you must have been sucking the air out of her because Penny was panting the closer you got. “We were in the Clockwork Courtyard when Snape found us.”

“And threatened to take points from you–”

There was no saving it. But you had to try. You had to be the snake they feared you were and slip out of their hands. You couldn’t lose Bill after you failed your way into successfully recuperate his house points. You couldn’t lose Rowan after they dipped her ears in poison. You couldn’t lose Penny.

You had to be a Slytherin.

“No.”

“No?”

You shut her up then, swallowed her words for her and sealed her lips with your own. You reminded her that it could have been the two of you against the Potions Master. You could have gone together to the ball she had worked on all semester, stressing and sweating, swooning and smiling through it all. You could have been together, but you both knew you couldn’t. Not outside of this room and the occasional broom closet.

“He gave us a warning,” you retreat, but she goes in for an attack. And only after your tongues due their usual tango and her fingers get untangled from your hair, do you get to speak again. “That’s why he led me into the dungeons himself at the end of the night. He wanted to make sure we didn’t sneak off into another corner–”

“I knew you’d never,” she had you in a hug so tight, so tenderly tight; the lies ate away at your insides. “You, or Snape.”

But you didn’t, did you? You didn’t suck up to him in any meaning of the word. But he did end up dropping all charges and leaving Bill’s name intact, didn’t he? You weren’t lying, you were just cherry picking truths.

“I wouldn’t even do that to Bill,” you found yourself forcing a laugh.

But Penny didn’t have to push a laugh out of her. It just came out.

“Are you telling me you don’t fancy him?”

“He has softer lips than you’d expect, but not as soft as yours.”

“Stop it,” she turned you down for the dozen time.

“You know you were my first choice.”

“I know,” she put the distance between your bodies you had once detested, but have come to welcome. “But you also know I can never be more than just your friend.”

Those words would have wounded once, but were just as welcomed.

“I know.”

You had dreaded this night. Ever since your first night, you had dreaded this night.

“What is it, Mrs Norris?”

If his cat companion was here, then Filch must be just around the corner. You didn’t stay put long enough to find out. You disappeared around the next corner over and into the potions storeroom.

“Mrs Norris?”

You already knew you weren’t supposed to be up and about past curfew. You didn’t expect him to understand how much you needed this Calming Draught, how easy it was to spoil it and how did just that this afternoon. You didn’t expect him to understand why you couldn’t go to the Potions Master himself for supplies and you prayed he and everybody else never will.

“Oh,” you heard him on the other side of the door you tried not to slam but inevitably did. “I didn’t know it was you, Professor. I reckoned we had a troublemaker to catch. Isn’t that right, Mrs Norris?”

“Mrrrow,” you heard his second-in-command scratching at the wood.

“Not in here you won’t, Argus,” you heard the last person you ever wanted to hear. “Might I suggest the next corridor?”

“Good night, sir,” Filch’s voice faded.

The cat’s scratching stopped.

“Good night.”

Before you could think fast or make a move at any speed, the door opened by itself. And if that sounds like impossibility it’s because it is. Professor Snape was the one who responsible for unlocking it and shoving a shining wand in your face.

“Miss Whyen,” you heard his voice for the first time since the Ball; without it being filtered through a wooden entrance, that is. “Is it that time of month already?”

Not being able to see him face after being blinded by the light helped you get your words out, but not by much.

“It is, sir,” you felt your voice falter. “Well, it will be. Tomorrow at the earliest.”

“Need I ask what you’re doing here?”

“I…I failed to brew it by myself earlier today…and ran out of fluxweed.”

“So you did,” he lowered the Lumos charm enough for you to make out his expression; he was his usual sour self, with a dash of harsh shadows. “Come.”

“Professor?”

“These are not the dungeons you were supposed to be patroling, Prefect. If Filch comes back this way, I won’t vouch for you. Come.”

Severus Snape’s office is a more familiar setting to you than the storeroom. Every month since the first one, he’s had the ingredients for the calming draught that’s made your menstrual cycle manageable at the ready. Every month since the very first year, you just had to ask.

But how were you supposed to step foot into his space after you forced your way into it just the other night? Well, according to him, just as you did right now.

“I had hoped your sore feet would prevent you from sneaking about the castle,” he crushed the bloodroot with the same force the stairs used on your ankle before adding it to the cauldron.

“The ointment helped,” you minced the Valerian root into a thousand and one of your thoughts. “I can’t thank you enough–”

“You thanked me plenty,” his hands moved like a pianist’s would across the cutting board, grand gestures and fast chops. “Take a seat.”

“I’m fine–”

“I insist,” he looked upon you with all the unquestioned authority he holds during his classes.

Only a blind man would have failed to see you fidget your way through preparing the potion that needed steady hands and serene thoughts. And your teacher was the farthest thing from nearsighted. Some days you even swear he can see into your mind.

“Yes, sir,” you sat down and made a show of getting distracted by everything and nothing, things that could never be more captivating than the look of concentration on Severus Snape’s face.

But you found it twice as hard to sneak a peak at the Potions Master. You were on your knees in front of him just the other night. He was yelling at you at the top of his lungs immediately after.

It must have been so easy to overlook you, Bill Weasley and your inappropriate attempt at intimacy because he had no issue following your journey to his chair through the black curtain of his hair.

You couldn’t. You couldn’t overlook your own shame in front of him now, and you couldn’t overlook your attraction to him then.

“Don’t touch anything,” he forced you to face him.

“Y-yes. Of course.”

“Stay put for another five minutes,” his eyes left yours in favor of the cauldron’s contents.

“Yes, Professor.”

The thing he didn’t want you touching was a disk stacked on top of another. A lunar calendar and a warn one at that. It had red markings on top of the black ink. One of them is on top of today’s date. Another is on a date twenty seven days back. Every one of them is a single day out of a single month.

“Whyen,” his voice found your ears and you found him standing right beside where you are seated with a vial full of the very thing the calendar’s been keeping track of.

“Thank you.”

“I want you to go straight to your dormitory. The fewer people you alert to your presence, the better.”

You reached for the cure, but he is keeping it captive.

“Open,” his eyes roll off of yours and land on your lips.

“Professor–”

“Your mouth, girl. It’s an experimental mix I’ve been meaning to perfect. It should be able to regulate your cycle. No more late nights like this.”

You opened your mouth because you had no choice. That is what you told yourself as your mouth watered before it was flooded further with that a whole new flavor. That is what you told yourself as you swallowed the saltiness down, your lips sticking to each other and your eyes stuck on his.

Much like with Honeydukes chocolate bar from your last menstrual mishap, he was the first to spot the mess you made of yourself.

“Every drop counts,” he wiped the excess elixir from the corner of your mouth with his own thumb and served it to you.

And you - already drunk on the draught, his attention and his touch - you sucked on it. For the single second that it was in your mouth, you sucked on him.

And much like he did with the feeling of your mouth on his clothed crotch last night, he hissed and jumped as if burned.

“That,” you hear his voice crack for the very first time. “That should be more than enough.”

“Sir, I never got to apologize for my behavior–”

“I thought we were in agreement, Miss Whyen,” he cleared his throat while clearing his work table. “A silent one, but an agreement nonetheless. You shall never speak of that night and I shall spare Mister Weasley his twenty house points.”

“I haven’t talked to anybody about–”

“As per our agreement,” his eyes were partly covered by his locks when you made an attempt to lock them with yours. “Good night, Miss Whyen.”

The embarrassment you had been living with was a parasite that had latched onto the both of you, consuming most of your conscious thoughts. But you didn’t dare hope that the attraction was a burden you carried together.

“Good night, sir.”

#Severus Snape #Severus Snape X OC #Severus Snape X Reader #I don't see an end in sight #but we've got two more school years to go #{mine}

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