#ALSO can i say that i really like how they have to decode his reports and they do it by sending it to aerith

[9w1ft]

i declare

thinking about the tortured poets department the song, and the charlie puth line, and how maybe like, the act of declaring he should be a bigger artist helps place the song into the greater timeline.

because it’s a sort of weird thing to say in 2024 of an artist that’s no longer up and coming.

charlie puth got his start in youtube in the late 2000’s and released his debut single in february 2015. and leading up to that he had several EP’s and promotional singles. it made me curious, at what point might the people en masse start to pay him attention? i checked google trends and as you can see here he gets a huge jump between the 2014 and 2015 data.

(he then gets a further jump toward 2016 when he did a promo single featuring megan trainor, and then doing “see you again” with wiz khalifa. (coincidentally this song becomes one of the guest duets featured in the 1989 tour movie))

and i was looking around at articles from this time period, when i ran into this tasty morsel:

so i clicked on through

take a little ride with me

so to summarize, charlie puth had his breakout star peak over the course of roughly 2014-2016, during which he was up for an award at the 2015 MTV VMAs. he doesn’t win, and in fact, he loses out to taylor herself! later on in the article it talks about him going to an after party and hanging out with taylor selena and others. so it had me thinking, i could almost imagine taylor talking with her friends that year or that night, or even declaring to charlie himself in the wake of his loss and her win, in a giddy manner, at the party they are reported as having talked at, that he deserves more success than he gets. in this way i came to the conclusion that the timeframe of 2015-ish (rather than 2023) really fits the spirit of the lyric “we declared charlie puth should be a bigger artist”

and

yes.

yes fam.

the 2015 vmas was that vma’s.

that vmas.

let me pull quote an excerpt from the billboard article as i included above, just to emphasize:

4:40 PM: Charlie has the good fortune to walk the carpet in the wake of Taylor Swift’s gaggle of supermodel friends, including “Bad Blood” star Karlie Kloss, leading photographers to alternately yell “Charlie! Karlie! Charlie! Karlie!” as if it were a hectic version of Name Game. While on the carpet, Puth chats with multiple news outlets, and later he says of the dealing with the paparazzi, “It’s amazing that we view people in unnatural states and just love it. I don’t really understand it — it just makes me very uncomfortable. But, whatever. I’m so appreciative to be here.”

such a fun convergence of events, don’t ya think?

and just a few extra points i thought i’d add:

first, i don’t know how many of you remember how taylor was behaving that evening, but don’t you think she was giving major golden retriever energy??

both in how she was chasing after karlie that night,

and also… call me crazy but, her hairstyle??

(also she’s in a houndstooth print, har har)

and i can kind of envision this taylor, who brought the whole bad blood music video crew as her entourage, having more than several bars of chocolate at hand for everyone that night, but ending up eating them all herself 😆

and another thing that helps tie the song to this time period (maybe some of you have guessed?) the line “who else decodes you?” is extra apt because… *da da-da daaaaa*

🤗 karlie had just embarked on her coding journey!

on a more solemn note? i don’t think it requires too much of a stretch of the imagination to see “but you awaken with dread” “i chose this cyclone with you” among other lines pointing to the new layer of stress taylor probably was harboring around being with karlie in public. because this is all taking place in the year directly following kissgate 🥺

so there you have it folks! this is why the tortured poets department is a kaylor song to me 😌

[stergeon]

spending some more time chewing on the concept of byleth and edelgard constantly writing each other letters—both while one of them is off traveling and also when they're both at home and seeing each other every day. there's one on the emperor's desk in her study; one in byleth's storage locker in the barracks; one left on a pillow or slipped into a pocket or tucked into a book the other is reading.

the emperor is interrupted during a big meeting by a page delivering a "most crucial missive from the commander." she unseals it in front of everyone and it's a crude drawing of a smiley face that says "hello i love you"

edelgard would write these excessively verbose things, very heavy on the poetry and flowery language. there are a couple paragraphs of updates and then page after page after page of "i love you"s and "i miss you"s communicated in ten thousand different and increasingly grandiloquent ways. byleth has learned to bring a dictionary along on her trips so she can decode all the sesquipedalian nightmare terms edelgard uses to tell her she's pretty. most letters start and end with an implied threat that if anyone other than byleth reads it or finds out how soft the emperor is, there will be hell to pay, but it doesn't stop her from proceeding to go ham on the romantic sappiness.

meanwhile byleth's letters are. pretty straight and to the point. she's keeping her posted about the weather, about this dog that she met, about a cool tree she saw, and transcribing direct quotes and best wishes from their friends. but she also includes little mementos she picked up or shiny things she found (she's like a crow with pretty rocks, shells, and baubles), and presses flowers that she thinks edelgard will like, and attempts to sketch things she wishes edelgard got to see with her. it's painfully obvious that byleth will never have an artistic career, but edelgard adores every single drawing all the same.

(hubert made a suggestion to have the emperor and her adviser use different seals or envelopes for their personal and official correspondence. this was accepted as reasonable. several months later, edelgard found out he made the suggestion after the third instance in which he'd been doing his secretarial duties and responding to the emperor's mail, only to find the message from the emperor's adviser did not, in fact, contain the woman's latest report on the situation in fhirdiad or fodlan's locket, but a rather lurid list of her intentions for the emperor upon returning home to enbarr. one contained a diagram. hubert did not examine it.)

edelgard, who hoards every paper she's ever had reason to touch and who has a (frankly, pathological) filing system for everything in her life, has a special container for byleth's letters that is under lock and key. byleth, who lived out of a rucksack for most of her life and constantly had to consider carry weight when vetting her few belongings, doesn't really know how to... have... things. she struggled with toting around all this paper for a while, but couldn't bear to toss out even the simplest "meet me at 4pm for the council meeting" message. she had to make peace with the concept of using a drawer for something like long-term storage and frequently checks to make sure they're all still there.

both of them keep their favorite ones in the back of their respective journals and act like they're not so extremely, terminally soft on each other.

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

*steps on stage nervously*

Uhh.. umm. Uhhhhh

Spidey Academy AU!!

Like Xavier's School for Gifted Children, Miguel - a Spider-person fond of kids, opened a Spidey-Science Academy, for the Spidey-people of the universe

It's not like a high school. There's five years and the years are not really sorted by age - but by experience.

So Hobie would be a year 3 - a middleclass-man

Pavitr is a year 1 - a freshman

And the classes, are all based on honing your Spider-powers and senses.

There's assignments, things you have to take home and do.

They're give you a fake evil Doc Ock chip and have you decode it and make it good again (like Peter in No Way Home).

Or they ask you to stop a petty robbery without using your webs. You have to bring in the Daily Bugles article on you the next day and they grade you on that.

(Hey say what you want but Jonah reports the facts he just talks a lot of shit)

Any class a Spider-person needs, they have.

You name it-

Home Ec? No. Sewing and Suit Repair Class

Gym? No. Swinging & Strength Endurance

Science? ALL ADVANCED. Freshmen's take Advanced Spider-biology and have to learn ALL the different Spider-variations and illnesses Spider-people can get. Multiversal Physics.

All of the honor classes are FULL.

There's also other helpful ones like Firefighting Training and Sign Language (both mandatory), hence how Insomniac!Miles is completely fluent in ASL.

Oh - also. Because Miguel is such a tight-ass -

UNIFORMS. Sweater vests over pants or shorts. (No skirts cause they still be upsidedown and shit)

You have to bring your mask everyday. It's like your ID card

y'all ever had that? Like y'all needed an ID to get into school and if you didn't have it they charged you? Like money? My school did that we also had metal detectors like the airport I'm so deadass this was just a normal public school - I'm getting distracted, anyway-

Of COURSE Ms.Jessica Drew is Assistant Principal. OF COURSE she also teaches Advanced Combat and Strategies class.

And YES she's a hard-ass grader. Has never given a 100% in her life. On some 'This was the best thing I've read in my entire teaching career but you forgot to indent on paragraph 5 so 99%'

She doesn't give a fuck about your GPA!!!

Unlike Mr.Peter B. Parker.

He makes people call him 'Professor PB'. He wants to be the cool teacher.

His classroom is SO FUN during lunch time. Probably runs the anime and manga club. He's that really nerdy teacher that you don't expect to be like "I know what anime is! I grew up on Dragon Ball 😁

His class are always fun but SO chaotic. Still wears sweatpants sometimes. He's the Science teacher.

And every year they take class photos and there's a Spidey homecoming where everyone parties on the walls in cute outfits.

CAN YOU SEE IT?

Swinging Team instead of Track and Field???

CAN YOU IMAGINE IT?

MIGUEL AS PRINCIPAL???

LYLA BEING THE LOUD SPEAKER ANNOUNCER?

[malkaleh]

For this to make sense read this gorgeous fic by @nocompromise-noregrets and also have knowledge of my OT3 verse. This is an in universe fandom post (on a tumblr that it is like, Good Website But Also Still Hell Site)

So I went to the panel discussion at Welles Hall (with a friend which was life changing levels of great) and I wanted to write a book report for the tumblr.

Natalie is actually Aphrodite. Like, I was speechless. I do not know how us mere mortals can gaze at such beauty and anyway, I was the most useless of lesbians.

I’m not personally into men romantically or sexually but like, aesthetically James and Jon and Rupert are very appealing. Like a sunset or a piece of art. Also very charming, A+

Ahmed is a sweetheart and very funny.

The questions/answers were all great but uh, some highlights:

Ahmed really talked about how much he admired the work Rupert did in particular - that he really sat down with the primary sources and asked great insightful questions (quote “I think in some ways actors have a similar drive to historians - to understand people, even repellant ones”)

“People ask me if I have any sympathy for him [Norwich] and the answer is no! I loathe him - the historical study is fascinating and important but I have never liked him”

Rupert said it was hard to be in [Norwich’s] head - that he ended up developing a ritual for getting in and out of character to separate himself - he really gave credit to the shows intimacy coordinator for the workshopping before anyone was on set.

(Aside we learned that Rupert was cast really early on - apparently they didn’t want anyone else because he’s quote ‘handsome and charming and a brilliant performer and that’s what we needed’)

Maya said there were times she had to stop herself from quote ‘making excited squeaking noises’ on set (world renowned historians - they are in fact just like us) and that her favourite set was the Arthurian Masque plus “one I can’t talk about yet” *eyes emoji*

Maya “I went into the process of revising it (The Tudor Triad: New Edition) with delight and sadness” she talked about how she loved being back with these three but also the heaviness of it - how she wrestled with how much to include.

Ahmed interjected and said that it was one thing he really struggled with as well - that only having Norwich’s voice, Noriwch’s details on the abuse was something particularly sickening and that’s in large part why it was so incredible to see James’ performance.

(“I think, I hope that somewhere in the afterlife Thomas Cromwell is glad to see that he is given his story back to him”)

Both James and Rupert really talked about how the townhouse visit was the most confronting part - that Norwich’s journals are awful and chilling but somehow being in the space where it happened, that made it all the more real, especially because by this point they’d both been in their characters heads for a while.

“It was horrible - i actually don’t like to talk about it in detail honestly”

They both talked about how great Ellie at Welles Hall was - that she and Ahmed and Maya really talked them through the diary/papers and the decoding. (“All props to Rupert and James - not only is the content not an easy read, reading/interpreting Tudor handwriting is a process and reading Tudor handwriting in a mix of languages is even worse”)

Natalie “my guiding sense was that Anne would rip him [Norwich] apart with her bare hands and dance on the remains - I just found that through playing her, reading her own words even if it’s never referred to directly”

Jon was very sure he wanted to have what Henry says to Norwich remain a mystery (though Rupert knows!) and he didn’t want the audience to see Henry’s face when it was sad - Rupert said that it was ‘incredibly bloody satisfying’ to play the moment when Norwich realises that he has ‘fucked around and found out’

Rupert said he thought that Norwich absolutely believed in his own mythology - that essentially, might makes right, that he was a great Roman General etc. (Which apparently Ahmed is currently working on an academic article about Norwich and Ancient Rome)

I’ll be back for part II: the Lionel Discussion Panel later.

-semperlyqueerly

[mxtantrights]

the sequel press conference

this is a snippet from the famous dc!au that started with The Greatest Hits [read here] you don’t have to read it but a lot of things would make sense if you do! hope you enjoy.

Having a press conference for the sequel to your highly anticipated movie should be a good thing. You should be happy. You get to sit among the cast and Dent, and talk about the film you all made together.

But this isn't a happy occasion. Dent reached out to both you and Jason about doing a conference about the halting of your movie you were disappointed. You had thought he and all the other powerful people in cinema has talked Lex down from whatever master plan he was implementing. That didn't happen.

So now here you are about to walk out onto a podium with your cast and director to speak to the world. None of you had the answers but you did owe it to the fans to let them know how hard everyone worked on the movie and to tell them how badly you want it to be released.

"Hey," Jason says from besides you and tangles his fingers with yours, "it's gonna be okay, we're not the bad guys here."

You nod your head, "I know, I know. But still. I mean so many people are waiting for this movie to come out. So many people on set haven't been paid."

"Hey it can't all be on you. Today our only job is to talk about how much we love our film and will do anything to get it released." Jason speaks.

You squeeze his hand in yours. He squeezes it back.

"Okay everyone we're on. Remember we have the name cards on the table!" Dent shouts.

And with that you and Jason let go of each other. There was also that. You two were not public. Not yet. The two of you have talked about it over and over. While yo both agree that the publicity of your relationship isn't something that would scare either of you, there was no 'right' time to reveal it to the world.

Or, you should say, to the rest of the world. For all intents and purposes Jason's family knows, so does yours, Harley, Pamela and Dent are also on the list of people who know. Along with Selina Kyle, Iris West-Allen, and somehow Lois Lane.

Really it was just a matter of time before you told the public. It's not like they didn't have their own theories. There are YouTube clips of the two of you, paparazzi shots, one time Tim sent you a blog dedicated to decoding the body language between you and Jason.

You follow behind Jason as all of you head out in a single file line onto the podium. It's Jason, you and then Dent at the very tail end of the table. When you finally sit down you have to remind yourself to smile a bit.

Dent clears his throat and leans into the mic.

"Hello everyone, I'm here along with the cast of the incredible movie Love On The Mend to talk about the recent studio changes and the affects on the movie." Dent starts.

All of a sudden a clamor of reporters start talking, throwing out questions. There's flashing lights that are way to bright and make you have to blink away the blurry dots in your vision.

"Woah wash woah, let me just get through what I know and then we can take questions afterwards." Dent speaks into the mic.

The reporters seem to calm down after that. You watch as some of them who have seats sit down. The rest that are regulated to stand seem to remain in place.

"As of now, we do not know when our movie is coming out. The recent change in leadership has ordered a whole new slate to work on and we're not sure when we can get back to finish filming," Dent says and then he looks over at the whole cast, "I know how lucky I am to get a cast like this. And I know their talent has been recognized by others. We hope that we can get everyone on schedule in order to shoot the ending."

"Now I do want to speak on the current strike held by the union and that is being funded by many head honchos. I stand firm in my support of those on strike. Without a contract that is fair and pays well earned wages to those who show up to work every day and night movies don't get made. I think our cast member down on the left can speak to this a bit more." Dent finishes and points over to the end.

Of course, Nyssa. Prior to coming in front of the camera she worked as directors aid for years. Her own father, Ra's. You had read the article in The Sun that she did basically outlining how bad it was to mix family and work, especially with a man like Ra's.

"Hi there. I'm Nyssa al Ghul. I'm one of several leaders of the strike and I want to say thank you to the people like Harvey and Bruce Wayne who have seriously stepped in to help us. When powerful men like Lex Luthor think they can step in with their money and change things to their likings, they think they won't get push back. I'm glad the union has showed him how untrue that is. So long as our demands aren't being met and Luthor remains banal in his takeover, we will not roll over." she says.

You start clapping before anyone else. And it's Jason that gets up and starts the standing ovation in the room. It takes a while for everyone to calm down again and get back to their seats. You even see Nyssa's girlfriend Sara in the crowd cheering her on.

"With that I will say, I signed a contract with 20th century, not Lex Luthor. Are there any questions?" Dent asks.

The room goes off again. Dent points out one of the reporters in the front row.

"Daily Bugle, all of the cast and crew have expressed their concern over the merger and their support for the strike. What are you willing to give in order to get back on set?"

Dent almost laughs but catches himself.

"Obviously we went the strike to go well. And if that does happen, then we want Luthor to resist his overlord tendencies. But that seems impossible at the moment. I'm not willing to give up the trust these people have in me as director and as human being." Dent answers.

Another report pipes up, "What do you say to reports that Bruce Wayne is attempting a buy-out?"

Jason laughs. Dent looks over at him and nods at him to take the question. So Jason leans into the mic on the table.

"As much as my father would like to, he won't interfere unless absolutely needed in regard to his duties and certain relationships. But I do know that he does have enough to buy back the studio and still be richer than Lex so..." Jason jokes.

The room erupts in laughter. You look over at him and you know there is a stupidly big smile on your face. When he sits back he looks right at you and send you a wink.

"Fans want to know if, pending the release of the sequel, if you will make it a trilogy?"

Dent actually does laugh at that.

"I don't have any plans for that right now but I will say this is a talented bunch and if they all want to come back and make magic together then I'm up for anything." Dent answers.

Then a reporter calls out your name.

"Since this is your first sequel and first Hollywood strike, how does everything feel?"

You lightly chuckle and lean into the mic, "I'm feeling great honestly. I still know how to make espresso so trust me I'm secure."

The press roars in laughter again, so does everyone on the panel. You even see Dent tip his head back to laugh.

"In all seriousness, I know how this affects me but I wouldn't even begin to understand how it affects those on strike and their everyday lives. When the time comes to return to set I'll be happy, but I know I'm even happier to not cross the picket line." you answer.

You sit back. You steal a glance on the left and see Nyssa holding her thumbs up. When you look over at Jason he's got a cheesy look on his face. All he does is raise his eyebrows and you know exactly what he means to say. You scold him a bit and then you face front.

More questions are thrown out. Two of them addressed to you which you answer with poise and lighthearted jokes. Jason answers too, budding in with a quick line about Lex here and there. Yeah you knew he had a score to settle with the man since his father is Luthor's second enemy behind Clark Kent.

The conference starts to wind down when Dent announces that the next question will be the last. A few reporters leap at the chance to get the last question but Dent only chooses one.

A lady dressed in a bright red suit. She looks breathtakingly beautiful and you have to do a double take.

"Hey Dent." she says.

Dent clears his throat and sits up properly in his chair. You watch in mild confusion and intrigue. You've never seen someone command Dent like that with just two words. Or you have, but that was usually Harley and Pamela.

"Shiva." he says.

You look over at Jason. He confirms the tension with a nod of his head. You look back straight.

"I have a question for the wonderful co-stars." she clarifies.

Dent nods. You wave at her with a smile which she returns. Jason nods his head once at her.

"I have it on good authority that you two are in talks to star opposite each other in another rom com. Any comments?" she asks.

You're not sure what authority she heard that from but it wasn't true. At some point after the strike your agent sent you some things to look at but none of them were rom coms. And none of them involved Jason as your co-star, as far as you know.

But suddenly a thought comes to mind. You look over at Jason a smirk on your face. This was it. He mouths over at you 'right time?' and you nod your head. He smiles and slowly slides your chair closer to his. It almost makes you drool, with how suave he is with it.

Like he had been waiting to do it. You lean into his microphone now, yours long forgotten.

"We're actually in a rom-com right now. But that's private at the moment and all I can say on the matter." you answer.

And somehow the room erupts louder than before. But you and Jason are already getting up along with the rest of the cast and Dent. You all are making your way off the podium and into the makeshift green room.

Jason grabs your hand. And you let him. You intertwine your fingers together and head out with everyone.

[corvuscorona]

akuse! on github. honestly i only use it for older anime which i cant source copies of both online and offline. really curious about the sources they use bc i searched extensively for some anime online and couldnt find it for years and they just. HAVE it. they dont have any appimages just a linux guide on how to build it yourself with the terminal. there's not that many steps but i'm so scared of messing up

hi. I went and looked at this github project the second I saw this ask & immediately went "OH I SEE" because oh my god the technical writing skills on display in that readme file are . let's call the overall effect "confusing". let's describe this situation like "the dev could follow the trail of breadcrumbs they left in there & they figured that pretty much was good enough." many such cases unfortunately but I THINK I have decoded it now.

here is what you're gonna do:

1. where it says "code" on the project page, click on that & yoink the zip file. you do not need to learn git today, so don't worry about "cloning" it. just download it.

(that green fucker on the right.)

2. extract it. put the extracted folder wherever. I have a folder in my "home" directory called "Programz" where I put oddball stuff like this because it makes it easy to find later.

3. MAKE / LOG INTO AN ANILIST ACCOUNT, THEN go to the "developer settings" page they link in the readme file without telling you what it is (which redirects you unhelpfully to the homepage if you're not logged in. jesus christ)

4. I cannot see the form for this because I didn't try it myself, but you want to "create a new anilist API client." find whatever button does that. When you do that, there should be a "redirect URI" field. put "akuse://index,https://anilist.co/api/v2/oauth/pin" in it.

5. in the folder you extracted, go to the "src" subfolder and then the "modules" subfolder. make a new file in there called "clientData.js"

6. the readme explains this part okay. open clientData.js and put this stuff in it.

7. open your package manager. you are going to search for 3 different things, and if any of them aren't installed, you're going to install them and any dependencies the package manager says you should also install. search for: npm, libcrypt, and rpmbuild.

8. now I am going to tell you to open a terminal window. inside the modules folder*, right-click and there should be a menu item that says "open terminal here". do that. then, in the terminal, type "npm run dist:linux rpm" and hit enter. (*I THINK? if this doesnt work try the top level folder maybe. it won't explode if you do it wrong just try stuff)

Theoretically, this should generate some kind of Something that you can run like you would run akuse on your Windows machine! I didn't get a chance to step through this process, so it's possible I am fucking something up, but I hope these instructions are at least clearer than whatever's going on in that readme file. it's worth a shot!

If you try this and it breaks down along the way somewhere, you are so totally welcome to report back here & tell me about it if you feel like it. maybe I can help! maybe I can't help but having an outlet to go "hey what the fuck" at will be nice for you anyway. either way this is awesome enrichment for me thank u

(& also I would like to thank minecraft modders for being the worst ever at documentation, instructions, and all related topics, because had I not been tried in those fires I would not be able to read shit like this at all.)

[through-the-untempered-schism]

Dear Taylor

Dear Taylor:

I'm so sorry that you had to watch a lot of us suffer trying (and mostly failing) to get tickets, unable to do anything to stop it and make it better. Truly. But 2.4 million FANS did not get tickets. You're a smart, talented business woman who loves us, and we wouldn't be selling such a high volume of tickets on the secondary market ALREADY at such a huge mark-up. If you don't know yet, I'm sure you'll know soon, TM works with scalpers, goes to their conferences, and works real hard to get them tickets because that's how TM makes money - off their resale fees (which are percentage based, so higher resale = higher cut). And I hate to say this, really truly because I've been with you since the beginning, gone to Target when my store did a midnight release (time, not the album), purchased music videos on iTunes (I feel old), filled notebooks with decoded lyrics...you know, nothing special, just the normal fan things that unite all of us. But because I've been around so long and admired you as an artist and business woman, I find it really hard to believe that you didn’t know TM operated like this. That you didn’t know other, smaller artists (and big ones) have limited resell prices to face value. But if you didn’t, then I guess you didn’t. 

Going forward though, maybe you can change that. Maybe you can somehow be a part of a movement that works to eliminate some of the predatory means that TM uses to make money. You’ve done it before when people thought it couldn’t be done. You’ve gone toe to toe with some of the biggest names in the industry and come out on top. We’ve cheered you on every time. I want to keep cheering you on as you do it again and again. Here are just a few things you could maybe think about in terms of TM:

Unlimited accounts. TM has been caught saying to scalpers that they have no desire to limit the number of accounts they have.

No identification on the resale market. The process is anonymous,  allowing scalpers to sell numerous tickets to their name without buyers knowing they’re selling numerous other tickets. Making sure that accounts are tied to real ID’s and that people can’t have multiple of them would eliminate people trying to get around non-anonymous sales by making different accounts with different names.

Dynamic/Platinum pricing. I’m sure you’ve already heard of this. It was announced for Ed Sheeran that he was turning it off for his concert. We didn’t get that announcement. Fans reported ticket prices changing as they added them to their account, lost it from site glitches, then tried adding it again.

There’s also a rumor (I have literally no evidence for this beyond anecdotal from being on the discord servers, reddit, and twitter two days in a row) that not only did the boosts we received do nothing, they might’ve even ‘boosted’ us to the back of the line. Even though the queue ticker doesn’t show you your exact place in line above 2,000 people in front of you, there’s a way to go into the source code of the page and see your exact place. Many boosted people were somewhere from 15,000-25,000 in line. Non-boosted might’ve been closer. Not a universal experience, but enough to show that they truly were worthless, if not outright hurtful.

Another thing to consider - a lot of us didn’t appreciate how VIP packages were tied to specificrandomseats. I don’t have any objection to a lot of front row stage/lower bowl seats being VIP (though I think it would be nice to have some that aren’t to allow fans with less economical means but equally dedicated to have that experience). But it was insulting and a hard pill to swallow when seats 4-19 rows back in all tiers (lower and way up high bowls) were also marked up by hundreds of dollars because they were VIP. And by the time most of us got in, that’s all that was left (until even those were gone). 

No matter what, I’ll always be in your corner rooting for you to succeed and celebrating when you do. I can also make space for the fact that a failure occurred here, likely intentionally on TM’s part, and at least with culpable ignorance on yours. That doesn’t erode my faith that you’ll still try to do something to make this right. I believe you still have that power. When you lost the opportunity to buy your masters, you mourned, but you also found a solution in re-recording your albums that’s turned into being the most amazing gift for us (and hopefully you as well). You’ve gone to court to fight harassment for one dollar to show that it’s the behavior, not the money that matters. You’ve dropped albums without telling your record company until the last hour in order to deliver your vision of a finished product. You went to war with Apple Music and won. And if you really can’t do anything in this situation, if you’re bound by some ironclad contract that you regret signing now, then I hope you can at least acknowledge why a lot of us are still feeling so duped after this statement that fails to lay out any precautionary measures you could’ve taken, a claim that 2.4 million fans have tickets, and no plan or intention to try rectifying this somehow. Or even a proclamation that you wish you could, but your hands are tied for reasons you cannot disclose. Honor us and our intelligence and our dedication to you, that we will stand with you through the good and bad, the tribulations and [Roman] triumphs. We’re all human, none of us are perfect, we all mess up. That’s okay. Just please don’t leave us drowning in the pouring rain <3

[mushroom-winners-proof]

this shouldnt be a major highlight of my KH manga reading experience and yet

[givehimthemedicine]

I think we've had "pretty?" all wrong

You know how it's annoying that Eleven is written to randomly care about her attractiveness to Mike as a kid straight out of the lab? I just found a new way of looking at this where it makes so much more sense and doesn't suck.

All the prettys that ever get talked about:

El touches the picture of Nancy and says "pretty".

Mike tells El she looks "pretty. good. pretty good." and she looks in the mirror and repeats it, evidently reveling in the sensation of being deemed attractive by a boy.

Later, missing the wig that had enabled Mike to consider her attractive, she asks him "still pretty?" and he's like "yeah, really pretty!" and she seems relieved.

El piggybacks Billy's memories, sees his mom on the beach, and reports to the rest of the gang that she's a babe.

Pinned down by flayed Billy intent on feeding her to the meat monster, El's thoughts return to how pretty his mom was, and she tells him so, and this somehow saves the world.

But the one I overlooked, because it really doesn't fit with the others in that she isn't referring to a person, is when El runs away to her mother's house. 12 years too late, she enters the nursery room meant to be hers, reaches into her crib and pulls out a teddy bear and says, in a sad little whisper, "pretty."

This is the one that decodes all the others.

Eleven has a poor grasp of language and has been using this word in her own way. Visual attractiveness is a mere pinch of salt in her recipe for "pretty," where the key flavors are good. comfort. happy. safe. normal. soft. home. loved.

That soft happy teddy bear is something that should have belonged to El and comforted her as a little child beginning a normal life. Immediate previous dialogue for context:

Becky: [ Your mother] always believed that you'd come home one day. El: Home? Becky: Yeah, home. El, picking up the teddy bear: Pretty.

The Nancy "pretty" being the first one establishes that it's El's word, not one she got from Mike.

Nancy's prettiness represents normalcy and happiness to El, the kind she worries will never be hers. There were also family portraits including Mrs. Wheeler (who El could've been drawn to as a friendly mother figure) and toddler Holly (who El could've been drawn to as a reminder of her past self) yet she made a beeline for Nancy. This makes me think El's interest in Nancy relates to her hopes for her own future.

Not long after that is the scene where she seeks out Nancy's bedroom and looks with tragic reverence upon the soft comfortable space and belongings of a normal girl, and what it might look like to be loved. I can't think anything is going through her mind except that this is the future that's been denied to her, and wondering if she can or will ever have something like it.

Billy's mom is conventionally pretty, but El is really describing her vibe as warm, involved, happy, loving. I can hear the delivery of "I think she's looking at me" as a bit wistful, as El would like to have a happy nurturing motherlady to look at her that way. (She does know her own mom at this point, but she's catatonic or whatever so they can never really have an interaction like this)

Billy doesn't not kill everybody because El complimented his mom.

El: She was pretty. She was really pretty. And you were happy. (and then she touches his face and it's presumably the only genuinely compassionate touch he's felt in years and he deactivates)

It's right there in the dialogue that El gets through to him by painting a picture of his happiest memory. But I always thought "pretty" seemed like an annoyingly shallow thing to place so much emphasis on here, until I thought about pretty in this context. Pretty + happy are a single concept to both El and Billy.

Billy, to a lesser extent, also had normal childhood stolen from him. Due to his abuse and abandonment he shares El's longing for a mother, safety, warmth and love, and "pretty" spoke to him in a similar way. Watch his face, he's clearly changed before she even adds the happy part. "Pretty" is Billy's Running Up That Hill - it isn't a magic incantation that makes the monster drop dead, but it does give him a moment of clarity that he can use to fight.

So now let's look at those classics again. Although I've always found it endearing on a "lol, linguistically stunted child misunderstands slang" level, I suddenly see a lot more in it.

"You look pretty good." He's talking about her looks.

"Pretty. Good." She's talking about her worth.

Made-over-El stands in the mirror and thinks, here is a normal-looking girl, she is pretty and good, Mike said so. In the wig and dress, she understands herself to be someone else entirely. Mike, who has only recently named her "El, short for Eleven", reinforces this by re-naming her Eleanor while she's dressed like this, even though the name Elle would not have raised Mr. Clark's eyebrows for any reason.

Later when she's on the lam in the woods, she looks at her reflection in the water with and without the wig, and screams at herself because it hurts that the real her isn't "Pretty. Good."

So when she calls back to this, she still doesn't really care if Mike thinks she's attractive, because she only ever thought he meant her definition of "pretty" in the first place.

She's not asking am I good-looking with no hair? She's asking, me, too? the real me? do I belong with nice loved happy soft? and when he gives an enthusiastic yes, look at the little look she gives herself in the mirror. It's not f yeah, a boy finds me desirable. It's maybe there is hope for me.

And the next thing out of Mike's mouth is "I'm happy you're home."

Season 4 gave us one more sneaky one:

El: I am twice as happy now. You are right. It just takes time. I think I have finally adapted. At first I missed all the spring flowers, but now I find it pretty here too.

At this point, El has the life that that hopeful little girl in the mirror dreamed of: normalcy, a home, a mom, a family, a boyfriend, long hair, her own bedroom full of her own stuff and important little mementos like Nancy's. And the gnawing truth is, it still isn't making her happy. But this was the dream, so she's just trying to fake it til she makes it. Pretty here is not just about Hawkins vs Lenora scenery but the sense of home, wholeness and happiness that she's trying to fool both Mike and herself into believing she feels in her new life.

Here they are in order for your evaluation. thank you for your time

[bonny-kookoo]

Ready Player 01 | JJK x Reader | 🔞❤️☁️

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: dystopia!AU, former Game developer!Jk, former pro gamer!JK, former IT specialist!Reader, former programmer!Reader, romance, Smut, slight cyberpunk elements

Warnings/tags: injustice, forcefully controlled public, violence (police/government officials against citizens), unfair powerplay, interrogation, tech talk, Jungkook be antisocial as FUCK but so is the reader lmao wbk, fear of physical contact (Haphephobia), past trauma and mentions of a bad childhood, insomnia, crime, smut because yes it’s me hello my content isn't kiddy-proof in the first place what yall want from me I'm not sure, but that’s waaY at the end ya know, friends to lovers, a slightly sassy AI but we love her, reader struggles with emotions, I mean same tbh, they're both so sweet tho I cant, not proofread because let me live

Summary: there’s a war going on; silent, but it’s there. Media has been strictly become controlled and regulated- to the point of making it illegal to own a TV or phone with internet access without a valid license. But there’s always some people that will try to break free from the controlling force.

"-a new age. This is a new year. And remember; we're doing this for the greater good. Until tomorrow." The news reporter stops talking after she somberly looks somewhere behind the camera that is pointed at her.

Your room is dark- the TV brightness on it's lowest setting so you can see what's going on- but outside, no one can see the light shining in your tiny apartment. Investing in blackout curtains had really paid off at the end of the day.

You don't want to get caught.

There's an announcement van driving past your window; the tiny slits in your curtains where the light from outside can creep its way inside brightening a bit as the headlights pass your windows. Something is spoken, and by now everyone knows the routine speech.

"Electricity will be shut down in five minutes. We advice to save all progress immediately- and we wish a good nights rest. Electricity will be shut down in five minutes..-" It repeats, over and over, counting down the minutes. You slowly move into your kitchen, opening one of the loose floor tiles to turn on your own emergency electricity system. With well practiced movements you close the tile again, moving the rug over it as you walk back into your living room, swiftly sliding the TV behind your wardrobe to make it disappear. As if on cue; there's a knock at your door.

The same as always. Routine. Two times, loud and clear. You don't even have to look through the peephole to know what awaits behind it.

"Yes?" You ask, rubbing your eyes as if you had been already asleep. The officer behind the door nods at you shortly, a mild smile on his face as he looks down at you.

"We didn't mean to wake you miss. Just routine, as usual." He says, peeking into your apartment to look for any electronics still running. It's pitch black however- so he simply nods, as his colleague notes something into his tablet. "We wish a good nights rest miss. Again, sorry for intruding." He apologizes, and you nod, closing the door.

Only when the street lights turn dark, do you move from your bed.

"Creator." The AI voice chimes up, her voice greeting you as as you lift the tile on the floor again- your phone connecting to the AI to show information you instantly decode and note down inside your head. "Player01 has just connected." The voice states, and you sit down on your cold kitchen flooring, smiling a little. "He has sent a message. Would you like me to play it?" The voice asks, and you take a deep breath.

"Yes." You say, and there's a small sound indicating the start of the voice message. A male voice is head.

"Hey, whats up?" He asks, and you can hear something in the background- maybe an empty can or something similar. "I uh.. I'm on my way. Should I bring anything? Ah wait, I know the answer to that.." He says, chuckling at the end of his sentence, and you can hear him zip up his jacket as he moves around. "Yeah uh.. just text or something, I'll bring stuff over. Can't have you starve." He ends, and the AI speaks up again.

"Would you like to repeat the message?" She asks, and you shake your head at her; a signal the artificial intelligence has come to detect quite well. "Should I archive it?" She questions again, and this time, you nod- something your invisible assistant can pick up due to motion sensoring.

"Send him a message." You say. "Tell him: I only need you. Get yourself here in one piece and I'm happy. And I'm very capable of taking care of myself." You state, and your phone shows a small loading message- indicating that the voice is doing as you said. It chimes up after a moment. "Thanks Kana." You say.

"No problem creator. Would you like for me to run through the databases now?" She asks, and you nod, a smile on your face. "Database search in progress. Estimated time: sixteen minutes and eighteen seconds." You huff out a breath as you look at the tiny display on your arm; tiny, yet powerful as it's your way of keeping Kana- your AI assistent- close at all times. Tonight, there would seem to be a lot to dig through.

They really added a lot of content these days.

It's not the door that makes you notice that there's a visitor after a while- He never uses it anyways for some reason. You're sitting on your kitchen floor with a small cup of tea in your hands- kept hot inside a slightly beaten-looking thermos can since you can't use to water boiler at night. Using anything other than Kana would cause a spike the police would be sure to notice; and you're not ready to get caught yet.

Not tonight.

It's a boy who, after a moment, opens the unclosed kitchen window to climb in; his combat boots getting a little snow and dirt from the outside into your apartment as his 80's looking jacket makes distinctive noises as it brushes against the sides of your window. His blonde hair has grown out a bit these days you notice- the roots clearly showing. It's a little wet and slightly curly from the moisture. It must be snowing outside- or maybe it had. You couldn't know for sure.

You never left your apartment.

He closes the window after slipping on the tiles inside a little, the plastic bags noisy as he almost drops them- sheepishly taking off his boots as he smiles at you. His socks are different from one another- but that's another thing so distinctive and just so.. him. He's his own person, always has been; it's what brought you two together, after all. You both stood out against the 'regular public' these days; with his brightly almost white-bleached hair he was like an albino in a sea of crows.

But you knew he didn't need that to stand out to you.

You can still remember the first few times the boy in front of you has visited you; the times where he had just dyed his hair to rebel out, or when he pierced your ears in exchange for you to do it to him as well. It was like you had made a blood pact in your kitchen that night- you had somehow gotten closer, formed a little more than just a simple companionship in order to riot against the law. He began growing close. Gave you a nickname. Began calling you his player 2. Began calling you his 'ace'. He had explained that he thought of it from memories of his gaming days; the two fighting teams always called red and blue, and one of his favorite weapons having that nickname- simply because it always 'saved his ass last minute'. He had rambled on about his last tournament after that, eyes sparkling and cheeks round from cold noodles.

You had become friends.

"hey." He says after sitting close across from you on the cold floor; the opened tile and Kana's core exposed to you two, the only source of light apart from your bracelet. The colorful LED's paint marks on his face and illuminate his features to you; but it does the same to you from his point of view. It's a familiar sight. "How are you?" He asks, almost shyly, but you know that's not what's bothering him.

"Hey Jungkook." You simply say with the hint of a smile, as you answer him. "Haven't slept well these days but, what's new I guess." You chuckle, and Jungkook smiles too- though a glimpse of concern is still shown your way. He knows however that forcing you to sleep won't do much good- your insomnia was too bad to really conquer it in a day or two just by taking naps.

And also; who was he to talk about solving personal issues.

"Have you seen the most recent reports?" You ask him, and the boy somberly shakes his head.

"I was unable to." He states. "They were patrolling close to my apartment complex because there had been someone reporting a Glitcher today." A 'glitcher'- a slang word now commonly used for people like Jungkook and you. People who went against the nightly routines, people who tried to trick the system by using electricity at night, owning media, consuming it, or dealing with it. It somehow became worse than underground drugs. "They pulled him out at around twelve or so- but they seemed too on edge the entire day, so I didn't risk it." He says, and you nod. Jungkook had always been a very good person when it came to calculating risk versus reward. He was good at reading people too- even though he didn't interact much, he got out of his apartment a lot more than you did. "Anything important?" He asks, and you shrug.

"There was a report that China and Japan were still on edge- with the chinese government arguing that they would soon start with 'more drastic measures to get things under proper control', whatever that means." You say, and Jungkooks brows furrow as he starts to pick on the skin of his jaw. "Let's just hope the flood doesn't throw us under the sea as well if it escalates I guess.." You say, and the boy across from you nods.

"Creator." Kana's voice chimes up, making Jungkook look up before remembering that the only source would be your bracelet, which you look at as well. "My scan of your body shows that you have not consumed a sufficient amount of calories today. I recommend a meal in the next five to eight minutes to avoid malnutrition." She says, and you groan. "I take this as a form of verbal communication. Running data search..." She says, as Jungkook looks at you; thoroughly amused by the teasing banter between the AI and his friend. "My data search concludes that you are annoyed, creator. I have only stated a fact however-" She continues, and Jungkook steps in.

"I've brought some leftovers from my dinner today we can eat." He says, pulling out some plastic containers as he moves to get proper cutlery out of your drawers. He makes sure to push them towards you, making sure to nod with a smile as you nod and thank him a little embarrassed. "It's nothing. You know I love you too much to let you starve!" He states with a grin, bunny teeth on full display as bitterness creeps up your throat- something you make sure to swallow down before beginning to eat.

Because the kind of love he's talking about right now, is not the kind of love you want him to feel for you.

"You forgot to give it a proper validation there-" He points out as you type away. "Otherwise it will just run instantly, and everything at once. That could crash older systems, and we know that V95 uses an older laptop, so we should take that into account." He says, and you nod, clicking back to the spot Jungkook is talking about.

This is what you're both good for.

Writing code for you had always been something you did with a passion- simply because you were good at it. Numbers and short phrases were something you could remember with ease; but you never had to think much about the visual aspect of programs in your department back when you were able to work for a simple programming company. You had simply always been tasked to program security systems and automatically updating firmware, or simple AI's for factory robots. Jungkook however had been all about the visuals; he had been programming games after all. That's why you two fit so well together in this scene. Whenever he would be in complete awe of the broad knowledge you had about official guidelines and security breaches, of staying undetected and unseen while still gaining as much as possible from every single line of code, he could always throw in his input to make sure the program you were both writing and updating for the glitch community was easy to use and simple enough so it could run smoothly on as many systems as possible. Be it phone, laptops, PC's- you two made it possible.

This program was connecting Glitchers all over the globe- and with yours and Jungkooks knowledge, you made it almost invisible. And even if it was somehow detected; there was no possible way to track down any of it's users.

The fact that you had to hide a simple program from the government made you sigh.

"Okay. Yeah I think that fixed the bug." He says, and looks at your arm- at Kana. "Oh, by the way, Kana?" he asks, and the chime gives him the cue to talk. "I heard you had a bug-fix too recently." He says, and the AI chimes again.

"I did, Player01." The AI answers. "The addition of code to my current program has proven to significantly increase my ability to observe and save more data." The female voice answers, and Jungkook grins. "You are happy, Player01." She states, and he nods.

"I am." He says.

"Why is that?" The AI asks, and Jungkook shrugs.

"I'm just happy you're doing well. Someone has to take care of ace when I'm not close by, yeah?" He states, and you try not to react to it. Jungkook is by now used to your more stoic expression; you're not too emotional and barely let things get under your skin. You've been hurt before, he knows this even if you never told him- he can see it in the way you hide inside the safety of your home, how you're so cold on the outside but still clinging onto him. Sometimes he wishes he could touch you; run his hand over your head to ruffle your hair like in those cheesy movies, hold your hand, or simply give you some reassurance in the form of a gentle hand on your back whenever you struggle.

But he's got his own demons, and they love clinging onto him just as much.

"V95 has connected to voice chat. Would you like to talk to him?" Kana states, ripping him out of his thoughts as he watches you nod.

"JK? Y/N?" A deep voice asks.

"We're here. Heard there was a raid close to you?" Jungkook asks, and he can see you grow a bit more serious at that. "Are you okay?" He adds, and V answers, although quite.. tired?

"I'm good. They got Jimin though." He states, and you sigh, running a hand through your hair as you stand up, frustrated. Jungkook knows you're trying to calm down by pacing. He doesn't mind. "They didn't officially arrest him, took him for 'questioning' though. We know what that's about." He states somberly, and Jungkook takes a deep breath.

"Jimin is a master manipulator V. He'll get himself out of it, I'm sure." Jungkook tries to reassure, but it doesn't gain him much than a hum from Taehyung on the other end of the line. "What about Sleeper?" He asks, and a chuckle is heard.

"He's been checking the videofeed from inside the past few nights. He said he's send some of the big bites to Ace though?" He says, and Jungkook looks over at your form.

"Yeah I've seen it." You simply say, though Jungkook grows uncomfortable with the way you're suddenly standing there. You're a little hunched, biting the skin on your thumb as you look at the tiles as if they suddenly began to move. He knows himself that things inside the 'rehabilitation centers' weren't all that nice to see- but you rarely ever displayed so much distress over it. "Let's just hope Jimin get's his ass out of this situation. We can't afford to loose him." You say, and V stays silent before he sighs.

"Yeah. I tell sleeper you've seen the stuff. Oh, and our prince charming has asked for a date with Ace. Again." Taehyung chuckles, and you groan- while Jungkook can't help but clench his jaw. Kim Seokjin was a very good asset to the team; with connections reaching deep inside the government and his position as a former lawyer- but he still hated his guts.

You didn't need to waste your time dating. You were totally capable of taking care of yourself, you had even said it personally! And for anything else Jungkook would provide for you. You didn't need anyone else than him.

He was totally not jealous of him.

"Can he not use our underground connections for that circus?" You say. "I don't even go grocery shopping, why would I want to go on a fucking date?" You mumble, sitting down next to Jungkook as you take a spoonful of rice. Jungkook feels a weird sense of satisfaction about the situation.

"Who knows." Taehyung says. "Alright, 10 Minute mark- I'll hear from you two soon. Take care." He says, and you both say your goodbyes before the line goes silent.

Although Jungkook hates physical contact, he likes keeping you close.

His heart is melting like chocolate as he notes the way your hand grips his jacket tightly as the two of you walk through town to get your license renewed- a way of holding onto him, and he somehow wishes it could be his hand. He knows yours would fit so perfectly in his, and yet he can't bring himself to do it.

His body is not cooperating.

He remembers vividly how his fear had developed; with his father and mother both being dramatically overworked and overwhelmed with having a kid at a young age, they had no idea how to make a child behave. Every second touch would bruise, every time he had been held would be force.

And at some point, he started to dislike physical touch completely.

It had just been like his growing interest in freelance climbing- the way he would walk and jump high over the heads of unsuspecting people, away from all judgemental gazes they'd throw his way for behaving the way he did. Only when the wind could hit him freely, only when he couldn't make out faces of anyone down below, only when he was high up- that was when he felt safe. The ground below had nothing of interest for him, no point in going down, as his apartment was located on the top floor of the complex. Jungkook never took the elevator, always the stairs.

He liked being reminded how high he lived.

And yet, there's one thing that pulls him down, brings his feet to the earth below, calls him like a siren song. It's you, hidden away from everyone's sight inside your tiny home, just as troubled and judged as himself.

He'd fallen in love with you the second you told him his name.

It had been a rainy night, his clothes drying on your heater as he was wrapped in two of your blankets; the smell of your fabric softener and something so typically you surrounding him like a mother's hug would a child. It had given him a feeling of comfort he had never quite experienced before, and it had also been the first time he had imagined what it would be like to hug you.

To have you close.

He had explained to you why he had freaked out when you reached for his arm to steady him when he almost fell inside your apartment through your window; had apologized and bowed his head in shame until you had simply shrugged.

"You don't have to justify yourself to anyone, Jungkookie." You had said. Jungkookie. "You're you. And I like you." You had said, not looking at him as you typed in some code to Kana's internal system.

His heart had warmed up at that.

And while you had accepted him, he had accepted you just as much. While at first caught off guard by your quiet and sometimes harsh way of treating him, he had also gotten to know just how gentle and delicately you treated the ones you loved. You were a loyal person, always going out of your way to be helpful, and silently basking in praise any time it was directed at you.

He loved that view. The way your cheeks would grow warm, how your eyes would sparkle; and he loved most of all, that he had been, according to Taehyung who was the second closest to you, the only one to see you smile.

You even laughed with him.

It filled him with pride to know that you were able to let go around him, even if it was just a little. It made him feel like he did something huge. It helped him sleep at night knowing that you were trusting him enough to let down your guard a little.

And it hurt him even worse knowing that he couldn't do the same thing for you.

He was a coward-

and you deserved a hero.

"Ace?" He asked, slipping through your window as he noticed the apartment silent and dark. Nothing greeted him. "..Ace?" He tried again, maybe you were asleep? But your apartment was quiet, empty, nothing spoke of your presence. Dishes were in the sink, a cup of water left untouched on the counter, and something inside of him churned painfully at the way this looked. He checked the kitchen tile, sliding it to the side like he's seen you do it countless of times.

It was dark.

Instead, he was greeted by a post it note. "Underneath the bed. Take care." Was all it read. He stood up, pushing your bed away from the wall noticing how your carpet had been torn a little. And as he lifted the cut flap of carpet, there was an envelope.

Your watch. A small in-ear piece, and your old IT-identification, folded.

A noise outside your hallway made his head snap up as he pushed the bed back into place, making an escape for it as he climbed outside the window, watch safely inside his jacket as he climbed back up on top of a building, before he examined it further, turning it on, after putting the earpiece in.

"Hello, Jungkook." Kana greeted him, and it felt weird to hear the AI say his name like that. "Creator has advised me to answer all questions you might have, and assist you from here on." She said, and Jungkook simply put the watch on, making his way to his own apartment.

"What happened?" He asked, his face serious as he walked.

"At around 6:12 O'clock, creator was taken into further questioning regarding illegal possession and knowledge of classified information and technological equipment. She had shown no resistance and complied with authorities. My observations however showed that she was taken with more force than necessary." Kana explained. Jungkook shook his head. "She had prepared for this instance during the night, approximately twenty-six minutes after you had left."

"She knew?!" He suddenly said, shutting his apartment door violently as he started to pace around, throwing his jacket on the couch. "Why didn't she contact me?"

"Analysis; your body shows signs of-" Kana started, but Jungkook interrupted.

"Shut up. Why didn't she tell me?" He asks again, and Kana seems to hesitate for a moment.

"Considering her close relationship to you, she probably wanted to not get you involved." She stated, and Jungkook sighed, sitting down on his couch as he gripped his hair. He should've stayed. Hell, it wasn't the first time he wanted to stay. He had dreamed of staying over, of fucking living with you for months to no end by now, but he was a coward. And this was his paycheck.

"Kana." He said lowly, and the small tune gave him the cue to talk. "Contact V95. Tell him it's urgent. We got an emergency." He says.

"I can't watch this." He says, jumping up and holding onto his head as to not punch his wall, unable to go through the videofeed of your interrogation room.

There's not much to see, but Jungkook knows that's simply because they haven't had the time to see to you yet. You and him knew best what really happened in these rooms, and he hated knowing that deep down they wouldn't go easy on you simply because you were a young woman. It didn't matter to them.

He'd seen teenagers way younger than you and him getting the rough treatment before- and elderly didn't get spared either.

The government bragged about having everything in order; yet they couldn't even control their own law enforcement it seemed. When he really thought back on his history lessons in school, not much had changed at all.

The world was still in utter chaos.

His palm shuts his laptop harshly- earning a tiny chime from the AI he’s already forgotten shares his home with him now. “I suggest that you practice care in treating your electronics to-“ he groans, successfully shutting it off at that. “Why are you frustrated?” It- she? Asks, and he sits down.

“I don’t know how to help her.” He admits in shame, thinking back to the footage of your hidden camera; the way they had pushed you to the ground, before grabbing you, leading you out of your apartment a few minutes away from him. “I don’t know what I should do.” He says.

There’s a bit of silence, until the AI speaks up again. “Do you have a romantic interest in my creator?” She asks, and his head snaps up at that.

“What the fuck? Why would you ask me this?!” He barks, unsure where to look since he can only hear the voice.

“I have observed both my creator and your behaviors; you seem to have a very deep rooted interest in each others well-being and opinions. This is commonly found in partnerships. I was only asking you to confirm if my assumption is correct.”

He’s silent for a moment, until he speaks again, watching the announcement van pass his window; voices dull and unintelligible though the walls and windows. “It’s no use anyways. Who wants someone they can’t even shake hands with?” He sighs, looking into his lap again. He hates that he’s like this; that even though he very much loves and adores you, there’s no magic moment that makes him forget- even though he craves the contact, he can’t do it. Every time he’s close to you, he knows that he could simply hug you; or let you rest your head on his shoulder, like in romantic movies. He wants to hold your hand, wipe your tears- but his body won’t cooperate. He can’t do it.

Not even with you.

“Creator seems very comfortable with you.” The AI states. “I have been asked to archive all text messages and phone calls of you two recently. When I asked for a reason, she claimed she would need it someday- I was unsure what she meant.” Jungkook furrows his brow, raising his head again. “Sometimes, when creator is deeply upset, she has the habit of playing some of the recordings of you singing, or reminding her to take care. My research has shown that it slows down her heartbeat to a more normal level and also improves her insomnia.” Jungkooks eyes widen at that.

Does that mean.. that you like him back?

"Kana, fuck- cut the feed." He says, agitated.

"Are you sure?" She asks, and he sighs, before yelling his frustration out, sitting down to take a deep breath. He slowly shook his head no. He couldn't let all your hard work go to waste like this.

He couldn't stay a coward.

"Jungkook, it appears to be that the creator is being let go." Kana suddenly chimes up, and Jungkook rushes to his pc setup to see for himself. And she's right- your arm is being held tightly, and something is being said to you, but your hands are no longer chained to the chair- you're free.

What just happened?

Jungkook sometimes really hates himself for being the way he is.

There's no sugarcoating it that you need comfort now more than ever, even though you don't openly show it to him. He can see it in the way you're still biting your nails, he can see it in your eyes which never stay on one point for too long. And he can definitely see it in the bruises on your upper arm, and the cut on your lower lip where you had bitten in anger and frustration. He wants to comfort you, he knows you'd let him- and yet he can't move any closer than where he is right now; only the length of his palm of space between you two. And yet it's like his joints are locked into place. He can't touch you.

What if he hurts you?

And it dawns on him right then and there while he watches you drink your can of overly sweet soda while typing your code like second nature, that he's not scared of you hurting him. He's scared of doing to you, what's been done to him. Because deep down he is aware that his parents never had bad intentions, never hated him or wanted him to suffer; they were simply unsure and not at all confident in how to really care for a child. They had been caught off guard and gotten overwhelmed by the sudden shift in their situation that they never truly knew what to do. And nowadays he felt like he was simply heading down the same road.

He was starting to feel like he was becoming just like them.

"Hm?" You ask him, ripping him out of his thoughts as he looks at you, your eyes wide and worried as you put down your almost empty can of soda. "What is it?" You ask him, and he wants to scream. He wants to throw a fit like a child at the way you seem to worry for him every time you should worry for yourself. He's a coward, he's useless, he's everything you don't need nor deserve in his eyes, and yet you always look at him like he's the main character of your favorite movie.

If he was, he was sure he'd be merely a sidekick- because you deserved to be the focus of every story told in his eyes. And if you weren't included in the tale, he knew he didn't want to ever know about it.

He swallows, before he manages to make his hand move, finger pointing at your arm where a green-ish bruise already formed. "Does it hurt?" He asks, and he's not even sure if he's asking you about the bruise, of if he's asking something else. He doesn't know what he's saying, doesn't even know if he's asking you or himself.

"No." You answer, and he looks at you, searching for any hint of a lie in your eyes. But he only sees that slight smile, lips turned a little, almost unnoticeable. But its there, he can see it, and he wants to print it into his mind to never forget it. You were so observant, knew him so well, that he was almost certain you knew of his inner fight and what he really meant with his blurted out question. "Are you okay?" You ask him, and he swallows again, eyes stinging with unshed tears as his body grows rigid like an unoiled machine, only moving with as much force as he can manage to come up with. His breathing is heavy as his eyes can't leave the spot on your arm, and your watch him with wide eyes as his shaking hand slowly reaches out.

He doesn't know what he expects to really happen.

Maybe like those electric shocks you get when someone had rubbed their socks on a carpet before touching someone else. Maybe he had expected to recoil instantly. Maybe he had expected nothing- but he was suddenly in a rush the moment his fingertip touched your warm skin, delicate, soft, everything his rough hands weren't.

And you were still as prey in front of a wolf.

But the wolf in this scenario was holding his breath while his tears finally fell. He wants to speak, but he can't, he doesn't know how to ask for something when he doesn't even know if he wants it.

But suddenly he moves again, his palm now resting fully against your upper arm, shaking, as it moves over the length of it, softly, as he imprints the way your soft skin feels. "Jungkook.." You whisper out, and he suddenly snaps, leans forward, his legs on either side of your body as he snakes his arms around you from behind, pulling you close to his chest. You can feel him shake as he holds you, his cheek resting against your back and you don't care about his tears staining your shirt as he suddenly cries openly and possibly for the first time since he was a mere child.

He's unsure, overwhelmed, because you're so warm, you smell so nice, you're so soft, and he can't let go, doesn't want to let go. He whines out as you turn a bit as he thinks you're moving away but you're simply placing your legs over his as you sit in his lap, hugging him back as you make sure to give him a gentle squeeze.

He calms down after a long while of simply existing. Of breathing you in, of feeling you. "You're right." He whispers into your neck, and you can't help but shiver, leaning into his hug.

"It doesn't hurt at all."

"You know, I get why you come up here." You comment, as Jungkook makes sure to hold your hand tightly in his, your feet dangling off the edge of the building you're sitting on top of. "It's nice." You say.

He's not listening that well though.

All he can really do is watch your face, illuminated by the neon lights of the city, hair swaying in the wind as you look down below. He doesn't quite know what you two really are, doesn't know how long it will take him to really come out of his shell and give you the love you deserve, but he's trying. He's fighting, he's left his cowardly self behind.

He want's to change.

And not just for you alone, because while he hates seeing you hurt, he knows what you two are doing- what all of you are doing- is for the greater good.

Jungkook hates your ideas sometimes.

Simply because he knows they will work, but also end up with you getting into danger at the end of it. And just like now, all he can do really is hope that you make it out as he keeps a watchful eye on your movements from above, giving you directions via Kana as you sometimes trip and stumble a little.

You're not a very active person; running wasn't really your thing.

Fuck, you were basically a hermit, the most you walked around was from your bedroom into the kitchen!

But then again, sacrifices had to be made somewhere. And Jungkook really admired you; because every time he thought that you had reached your limit, you would face it head first and break through it.

"Ace, try and somehow get to higher ground. They're caging you in from all sides." He urgently tells you as he watches police chase you down the roads, pushing citizens aside to not loose sight of you.

The plan had been simple. Gain all the attention so Taehyung could infect one of the police station's servers with a new worm, giving you all a better and easier access to any data and communication of the area. Jungkook couldn't play the bate well enough; and you had been on their radar already, making you the best option to gain their interest quickly enough.

Although Jungkook hated that part.

"Come on, ah fuck it." He grits out, jumping down to grab a ladder, making his way to a nearby area he could pull you up. There was no way you could reach any of the fire ladders yourself, and by now, things were getting too hot for him to risk anything. "Here!" He barks out, not thinking twice about grabbing your hand and helping you upwards, trying not to worry too much about your heavy breathing. And then there's it.

A pop, loud, followed by another, and another, and another. You're suddenly falling, scraping your knees on the ground below as he can't catch you, too startled by the fact that they had actually decided to shoot to react quick enough. "Fuck!" He says, eyes wide and pupils blown as he looks at you.

"Jungkook, why the fuck aren't you running?!" You yell at him, a scratch on the top of your left cheek as you push his leg away from you- the only thing you can reach. "Go!" You bark again, and he growls out something, before he manages to pull you onto his back, adrenaline not letting his brain process what he's doing.

He can't just leave you.

"Taehyung, get out, Ace has been shot. Whatever was uploaded has to be enough." He says via the in-ear piece, doesn't wait for a response. He still gets it.

"Fuck, what?! Okay okay, I'm out" He says, and Jungkook can only catch a glimpse of the older man leaving the building via the backside entrance. He's only concerned with getting you somewhere safe.

"Urgh." You groan, slowly sitting up on Jungkooks couch. "I mean, I know paintball hurts, but rubber bullets? Jesus.." You complain, while Jungkook looks at you with a dark expression. "What?" You ask him, and he huffs.

"You sound like you haven't almost been killed yesterday." He grimly says, and you shrug. "Stop. I'm serious." He tells you, and you let yourself fall back down onto his couch.

"Whatever. At least we killed their communication." You say, closing your eyes. "Must've at least pissed them off." You say.

"Kana." Jungkook suddenly says, waiting for the familiar sound to tell him she's active. "Shut down for now." He says, and you sit up, hissing instantly at the sudden movement.

"Hey- ah fuck!" You say, as you watch on your bracelet how Kana complies; shutting down. "Why would you do that?" You say in an offended matter, before you grow quiet, watching him go onto his knees in front of you, as he lets his head rest on top of your lap.

"I just want.. you to myself. Just.." He mumbles, and you slowly bring your hand to his hair. "Just for a moment." He says, and you sigh. Jungkook had been under a lot of stress recently, you no doubt being the main cause of most of it recently. So you simply let him be, as he closed his eyes. "Y/N?" He asks suddenly, and you answer him. "I love you." He says, and your body stops moving.

What?

"It's okay if you don't." He says, not moving from his spot, and neither opening his eyes. "I mean it. I only want you to know." He explains further. "Because I.. couldn't fucking live with myself if something happened to you, and I've never told you." He admits, and you can't help but stare at him. Jungkook looked down on himself so much that it was sometimes frustrating to see; simply because you saw him as such an amazing human being with countless talents and beautiful flaws.

You knew you couldn't muster up the strength to actually answer him; not so spontaneously. You weren't that expressive, you couldn't communicate as freely and colorful as he could. All your words seemed black and white to you, mixing into grey and mundane sentences while his words seemed to bloom into the most amazing paintings. He had a way of charming those around him- and he didn't even know.

You slowly leaned down instead, moving his hair to the side as you placed a feather-light kiss to the top of his cheek, close to his eye.

You hoped he would somehow understand you.

And as he moved again, looking at you with eyes that sparkled brighter than any city's skyline ever could, you knew he did.

He'd always understand you, no matter how you communicated with him.

You didn't need words to understand each other.

The shy kiss you two shared, bathed in the purple glow of the neon lights outside his window, spoke enough.

"You should try and sleep." Jungkook tells you, taking away your can of soda as you whine at him. "No buts. Come on, I'll finish this for you." He says, and you let him take over the keyboard of your laptop. It's something you really only let him get away with- anyone else would've probably lost a finger or two trying to touch your work.

You don't trust anyone but him at this point.

"I know that Kana snitched." You comment, as you lean your back against his shoulder. He chuckles. "Can't believe my own creation goes behind my back like that." You mumble, and Jungkook has a light tune to his voice as he speaks.

"Well, it's a good thing though." He tells you. "I worry about you." He says.

"Ugh come on, you know that's not the part I meant." You laugh, and he grins.

"Oh, you mean the part where you listen to my crappy ass singing to help you sleep?" He tells you with a teasing undertone. "No wonder you got insomnia trying to find rest to that." He chuckles, and you playfully hit his thigh.

"Shut up, your voice is nice." You say, and he's glad your eyes are closed, and you can't see him blush.

Somehow, moments like these re-energized him again. Because it proved to him that there was still a piece of that innocent and untainted you inside that thick shell you had put up to protect yourself. And considering that you let him see you like that made his pride grow taller than any of the skyscrapers of his city.

Maybe one day the two of you will have a future together that won't be so difficult and unfair like your current one was. Maybe one day, you both will have changed enough to teach the next generation about what you've overcome.

But then again; living in the moment seemed to fit a lot better in his eyes, as he watched you sleep soundly against his shoulder.

Yeah, this moment was more than enough for now.

The world won't change over night- you both know that. All of you know that. But small things were starting to make a difference here and there; for example, the letter you held towards Jungkook as his eyes widened.

"..and we have officially decided that we no longer want to participate in the case against the defendant. The result of this agreement is that all charges against Y/N L/N have been dismissed and are no longer being investigated." He reads out loud, almost whispering as if saying it too loud could make it a lie. "They let you go?" He asks, and you nod, the small bandaid on your cheek making you look even cuter in his eyes as you shrug.

"Jimin had reached out too. They've let him go home as well." You say. and Jungkook huffs out in disbelief.

After infecting the police station with the worm you had all worked on, you had scared the entire country enough to take a step back from the overall aggressive tone. It wasn't much- but it meant that they knew you were there. You existed, and you were not bowing down.

You were still untamed.

Jungkook smiled brightly as he put the letter down to the side, reaching out to you to pull you onto his lap. He simply holds you for a moment, his lips kissing the skin of your shoulder as if in a trance. "I love you." He tells you, and you smile, squeezing him a bit in your arms. "I really do." He assures you, and you nod.

You don't answer him, and he doesn't seem to mind as he leans back from you, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he grins, hands holding your face so delicately as he places a kiss onto your lips, making you close your eyes as he breaks away from you, letting you rest your head against his shoulder.

He's still not letting anyone very physically close other than you; he's still scared of going out and around like everyone else. You're still rather hiding inside his apartment- both of your apartment now- and you still have trouble sleeping.

But Jungkook keeps the nightmares away.

And you make him brave in exchange.

It's really weird to hear the sound of a radio nowadays.

Things are still far from normal- but recently, citizens had been given radios to listen to public broadcast again. It only played crappy music with some rare good tracks here and there, but it was better than nothing.

Jungkook couldn't help but think that your breathless voice was far more entertaining than any music station he can remember from his youth.

While he hates touching other people, even friends and family, he can't help but feel a rush whenever he touches you.

His hands can't stop on one specific spot, can't seem to stay still even for a moment as his lips nip and suck at the flesh of your neck and shoulder, marking what's his, visualizing that you really belong to him. He bears the same mark on his collarbone from last night, and he should have been satisfied, but even an early morning couldn't keep him away from you.

The rain hit the window harshly, but he didn't notice at all. All his eyes could see was your form underneath him, skin glowing as he moves above you, euphoria filling his veins as he can't look away from where you're connected, where his cock disappears inside of you over and over and over again.

"I love you." He breathes out as he comes undone, holding you close, resting his head against your shoulder, as you hold onto his arms, a smile, a genuine and big smile thrown his way as he can't help but smile along.

"I love you too, Jungkook." You say, and he chuckles.

The radio in the background still playing, as you lay in each others' arms.

(c)Bonny-Kookoo. Please stop reposting my content on AO3 thinking I won't find it. I'm literally everywhere you clowns.

To everyone else: Thank you for reading this mess- I really apologize for the messy storyline, but I just wanted to put this out before the entire thing escaped me again and I would end up struggling to find my way back into it (cough cough flashback to mean lmao). I promise to somewhat post more regularly. Thank you for your kind words and for sticking with me!

[bubblegumbeech]

The Librarian’s Trick

Day one Ectoberhaunt: Trick or Treat

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34213519

 1:

 Wes was certain this Cassius guy was a ghost. He had to be. Humans didn’t live on the outskirts of town in large decrepit clock towers that Wes was      pretty sure didn’t exist last week    .

 Humans didn’t have red eyes and white hair (unless they had a condition called Albinoism, Wes had looked it up. But Albinoism      also     meant they had no melanin      anywhere    and Cassius Dark was decidedly tan in an admittedly attractive but decidedly not Albino kind of way)

 Humans didn’t have fangs when they smiled but normal teeth whenever Wes tried to point out that      He had FANGS. They were right there!!!  

 Humans didn’t spend all their time either with Danny Fenton (who was Also very much a ghost!! Which should be in the list of proof but no one believes it so it’s seperate but still!) or mysteriously absent.

 And humans didn’t seem to know everything all the time but talk like a bad astrology website.

 So Wes was going to find a way to prove it.

 His first try had him sneaking a “ghost translator” he didn’t remember the stupid name Fenton’s dad called it when he bought it with his allowance, into the library where Cassius Dark supposedly worked.

 Supposedly, because while he could be found there, Wes had never actually seen him doing anything other than reading. And it was never a book Wes recognized, like, he wasn’t reading the Twilight series or anything. The last book Wes saw had been a large ancient looking tome written in a language Wes didn’t recognize. But Everytime he tried (subtly! He was super nonchalant about it!) to take a picture it ended up blurry!! And No Kyle, it wasn’t because he was      bad at taking photos    .

 But that didn’t matter because Wes had a different plan now. He was going to use the Fentons’ new version of their “ghost translator” thing, and see what happened. It was supposed to be both a translator and a truth decoder at the same time. So no matter what a ghost said, the device should say what they actually mean. Or something.

 With Danny, a bunch of innocuous stuff went off around him, but people always hand waved it as faulty tech. Wes wasn’t sure that was the case, in fact he was positive it wasn’t. But if he could get something useful to build up from, that would be a good start. And every good reporter needed a start.

 He stepped up to the Library’s front desk, where Cassius was sitting reading what was      clearly     a spell tome if the different summoning pentagrams in the open page Wes could see were anything to go by.

 “Welcome Young Weston,” Cassius said, the hint of a smile hidden behind his red eyes as he closed his book. Wes could swear they were glowing slightly. Geez did this guy get his ‘how to pretend to be human’ classes from      Fenton    ?

 … that would certainly explain why no one ever believed Wes, since that was a long beaten dead horse in his closet.

 He, very discreetly, had the device hooked up to one of his earphones, which he kept in one of his ears like any normal less than perfectly mannered teenager as he asked Cassius Dark his questions.

 “Excuse me sir? Do you work here?” he started with, it was a more or less innocuous question and one he actually wanted the answer to.

 Cassius Dark smiled. “I do.”

 My Job is all that was, is, and shall be. That which I set as my goal is beyond mortal comprehension and those I call master shall fall to my machinations. But yes, I get paid for sitting at this desk and answering questions sometimes. I am a ghost, fear me.

 Wes tried not to sweat too obviously. What the fuck?

 “Can you tell me where the journalism section is?” Wes decided to make a tactical retreat, at least his voice didn’t crack.

 “Straight back for eight shelves and then turn right. It’s next to the Non-fiction books.”

 I know what you’re looking for, I know why you are here. I know the exact time of your death and what will happen next. Your efforts amuse me though. I am a ghost, fear me.

 What Wes did next was not      exactly     fleeing. But it wasn’t      not     fleeing either.

 He’d have to try something else.

 2:

 The next thing he wanted to try was a bit riskier. If you thought about it a certain way. But it also wasn’t if you thought about it the way Wes did.

 He was going to use a phase-proof net.

 Genius, because unlike the translator machine thing, it would actually stop the ghost from attacking Wes if it got angered. Which it would, probably, since Wes was throwing a net at it.

 The plan was really simple though, he’d gotten a very large net, paid extra for the little aim thing, practiced half a billion times of his brothers before they went to the parents and got him grounded for a week, and then memorized the path Cassius Dark took in the mornings to go to his “job” at the library.

 Right now he was hiding in one of the leafier trees, right above the path that Cassius always used, waiting.

 And waiting.

 And…      waiting.  

 Honestly he was about to go home and was fairly certain this guy was going to be like, super late to work, when he finally appeared.

 Wes wasted no time aiming, making sure the trajectory was absolutely perfect, and firing the net off. He was just about to jump in celebration, watching the net as it curled slightly around its target, but before it could hit and wrap around him, Cassius was suddenly not there.

 Or he was, but just a little bit to the left, so that the net sailed harmlessly past.

 Wes cursed.

 3:

 The third one was fool proof. It had to be.

 Which was why Wes was staring at a large conspiracy board, covered in paparazzi-esque shots of the librarian and random notes he’d taken, all connected with a dizzying amount of red string.

 “Kyle, seriously. I need to figure out what kind of ghost he is or he’s always going to have the upper hand!!”

 Kyle just rolled his eyes and continued playing his video game, as if he didn’t care that Wes had set up his very important planning and plotting in the middle of the living room so long as it didn’t interfere with his own plans.

 “It has to be pretty powerful, he was able to dodge my net before it even touched him. And the translator thing clearly said ‘my goal is beyond comprehension’ or something,” Wes mused, “and he also said his job was like, everything?”

 Wes checked his notes, “yeah, ‘all that is was and shall be’. What could he mean by that?”

 His very annoying and clearly not taking this as seriously as he should brother just chuckled. “I don’t know Wes, maybe he can see the future?”

 That… no. That’s way too OP. Just the thought of it sent a shiver down Wes’ spine. There was no way a ghost could see the future right?

 Right?

 He had to test this theory.

 But how do you even test something like that?

 “Kyle, how would you test if someone could see the future?”

 “Throw something at the back of their head and see if they dodge?” He answered way too quickly.

 Wes thought about it for a moment. “No, what if they just have really good reflexes?”

 “Oh huh, I guess that could be true. No idea then.” He shrugged and Wes had to fight the urge to throw something at the back of      his    head.

 Whatever. He had to make plans.

 He’d tried just throwing things. It was risky, and kind of terrifying, but Kyle was right it      was     the first that came to mind.

 But Cassius never dodged. He was always just, not where Wes thought he was. Or Wes had      really bad aim,    which he didn’t!!! He was a basketball ace!! He had great aim! And great situational awareness!!

 So why couldn’t he hit Cassius Dark?

 Obviously it was because he could see the future. And the smug smile he always had when he knew Wes was looking reminded him an awful lot of a certain other Phantom.

 4:

 Ask him about his family.

 Easy enough. Especially without the Fenton’s weird translator because that might have been a bit terrifying. And also this time he had back up.

 He dragged Kyle by his sleeve into the library.

 “Mr. Cassius!”

 Cassius looked up from his book, removing the delicate reading glasses balanced on his nose. “Can I help you Mr. Weston?”

 “Yes!” He smiled broadly, taking out a small notebook that he had used to take notes on the suspicious and ghoulish things going on around town until it was mostly shreds of paper. “I’m writing an OP ED on the town library, and would like to know more about the librarian. Can you answer a few personal questions?”

 Kyle snorted and Wes had to elbow him in the side to get him to shut up. He was here as back up, not to ruin his plan.

 “So,” he began, “is Cassius a family name?”

 “No.”

 Wes nodded. And then frowned. Did ghosts have families? Supposedly they were alive once right? At least that was the general idea, Wes thought.

 “So what can you tell us about your parents? Like, what’s your father’s name?”

 Cassius raised an eyebrow, and had a soft smile filled with good humor. Wes felt it hit him like a threat. What was this ghost hiding?

 Well, other than the fact that he’s a ghost.

 “I can’t tell you much I’m afraid. My mother is long gone and I never had a father.”

 Kyle grimaced and elbowed Wes himself before saying, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

 “It’s no matter,” Cassius replied, still smiling, “I may yet see her again.”

 Ah, so either she wasn’t dead or he’s convinced she became a ghost too. That made sense. It could be his unfinished business as they say among the paranormal hunters. At least, the not fight-y and crazy ones.

 “So Dark was your mother’s name?” Wes asked, wondering if he could maybe find any records on her where he had failed to find them on Cassius himself.

 The smile slid right off his face. Wes and Kyle both felt the subtle chill in the air as Cassius leaned back and looked off to the side, as if to glare at something that wasn’t there. “No, I’m afraid Dark is my ex-husband’s name.”

 “Why keep it?” Kyle asked, completely ignoring the danger of the situation.

 The smile came back, except this time instead of soft and barely there as if he were indulging a child, it was sharp and twisted. He chuckled at an inside joke no one else in the room would ever understand and then he said, “Well, it’s not like      he     has any use for it now.”

 Wes paled. Had he killed his husband?!

 5:

 After a hasty retreat from the library Wes treated Kyle to a milkshake and fries at the nasty burger just as he had promised. Payment for going along with his ‘weird ghost theories’.

 But Wes couldn’t eat, he was too busy thinking. This one actually helped! He found information about the ghost’s previous life! He had a mother, but not a father, and had a husband.

 With the current politics it was one of two options. Either he was from a previous culture that allowed men to marry each other, or he was a more recent ghost than Wes had been expecting. He had already taken out his laptop and was scrolling through obituaries with the surname Dark, trying to think if he knew any off the top of his head that might have been in town when they died.

 Nothing particular came to mind.

 Wes’ thinking was interrupted by a loud, obnoxious slurping noise from his brother. He shot him a glare, but Kyle didn’t react. Wasn’t even looking at him. Instead he was looking out the window and watching one of the daily ghost attacks with Phantom playing hero as always.

 “You know, it’s kinda cool that they’re hiring actors to build the town’s lore like that,” he said, clearly ignoring the obvious evidence of ghosts right outside his window.

 “What the      hell     are you talking about?” Wes groaned, rubbing at his eyes. He needed coffee or something, it was a shame the Nasty Burger only served sludge no sane person would drink.

 Kyle finally looked away from the window, his eyes wide as if      he     was the one confused. “You know, how they got the librarian to say he was married to Pariah Dark? And then imply he’s the reason he’s a ghost?”

 Wes felt like the seat underneath him had suddenly disappeared. “Where did you get      That    from?!”

 “He said his ex-husband was named Dark! Pariah Dark’s Ghost Zone show is the first thing that comes to mind!” Kyle argued back. “Isn’t it?”

 Holy shit this guy was married to the ghost king.

 He thought back to the ominous answers he’d gotten that first day from the Fentons’ translator. Maybe he should leave this one alone.

 +1

 Wes was at the library, studying quietly and absolutely avoiding the librarian. Not that he’d seen him today, but it didn’t hurt to keep his head down. With any luck the guy had a short memory and would forget Wes had been trying to find a way to out him to the town.

 A portal ripped from the air in front of him, sending a static energy throughout the library and causing Wes’ hair to stand on end. It was a swirling purple, deeper and more… well      more     than most of the natural portals that Wes had seen appear around town.

 He wanted to scream, but years of living in Amity Park had fully trained that out of him. Screaming was the number one way to get a ghost locked on you as their first target. Especially if you were there when the portal opened.

 Before Wes could even think to duck under the table he was using a figure stepped out of the portal, poised and composed. He had a deep purple hood that seemed to swirl with the fabric of galaxies and a large ornate clock embedded into his chest. His skin was a rich blue and he had glowing red eyes.

 Wes recognized him immediately.

 “Oh, hello Mr. Weston, is there something I can help you with?” Cassius Dark asked.

[cyhyr]

KakaIru Maze 2021: Decoding Ancient Lost Languages

Fandom: Naruto

Rating: T

WC: ~4540

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Additional Tags: Mysterious Injuries, Old Gods, Sacrifice, Poisoning, Curses, Hospitalization, Hopeful Ending, Medical Inaccuracies, Medical Procedures, Hair Loss

A/N: *~*Throws Confetti*~* I. DON'T. KNOW. WHAT. I'M. DOING.

I did the barest amount of research for this fic. *~*More Confetti*~*

Read on The Archive

~

Normally, Iruka would balk at the idea that he should be carried through the front gates after a mission, no matter how gruelling. He has an image to uphold, and what if one of his students were to see him broken and weak after one of his missions? He’d either never hear the end of their worry or, worse, lose their respect as a strong shinobi capable of teaching them.

So no, this situation is far from normal.

He holds on tight around Kotetsu’s shoulders and buries his face in his teammate’s hair. His back is on fire, carved wounds shifting and worsening with each step. Some kind of curse-seal, or a time-released jutsu; whatever happened, Izumo couldn’t use the mystical palm jutsu to heal it, not without causing further excruciating pain and making the wounds ooze and seem to cut themselves deeper into Iruka’s back.

They had cut their losses and abandoned the mission. Iruka’s fūinjutsu was vital to its success anyway, and he was—is—in constant agony.

Thankfully, they enter the village just after nightfall. Iruka can feel a bit relieved over that—most of his current students are home and inside at this time, so the chances of being seen by any of them are slim. He bites his lip to stifle a cry as Kotetsu pushes off a rooftop a bit harder than usual and it shifts him too much.

They’re halfway to the hospital when the ANBU team flank him and Kotetsu, escorting them the rest of the way. One of them, Cat, runs close enough to talk.

“Report.”

Iruka can’t. Kotetsu responds, “An injury that responds poorly to normal medical field ninjutsu.”

“Is he awake?”

Iruka nods, knowing Cat will see.

“Iruka-sensei, can you speak?”

He shakes his head.

Kotetsu says, “He’s been in too much pain to do much more than nod or shake his head.”

“Rokudaime-sama wants you and your other teammate to report directly to him once Iruka-sensei is admitted to the hospital.”

Kotetsu fumbles another step. Iruka grits his teeth and groans, holding back a scream. “Sorry, Ru,” he mumbles. To Cat he says, “Of course, ANBU-san. Izumo’s checking us in at the gate. I’ll collect him and report, once I drop Iruka off.”

Iruka doesn’t remember being admitted. He does remember Sakura’s startled cry as he’s placed face-down on a gurney and his wounds are finally able to be seen in harsh fluorescent lighting for the first time. Gods, he’s tired of being face-down in hospital beds.

Will something, anything, have the wherewithal to fucking strike him in the chest for once, please?

He passes out.

~

A hand is holding his own gently as he wakes, extremely disoriented and floaty on painkillers. He blinks his eyes open and turns his gaze to the man beside him. Iruka smiles faintly. “K’shi,” he slurs. Oh, they have him on the good drugs.

“You are never leaving the village again,” Kakashi whispers harshly. He bows his head and kisses Iruka’s hand in his own and continues, “Hokage’s orders.”

“I‘ll go rogue,” Iruka mutters, closing his eyes. “What’s in my IV?”

“From what Sakura tells me? Everything.”

“That explains.” Iruka stops, trying to think of the rest of his sentence, but a fresh flood of painkillers just flowed into his arm and he hums instead.

“I heard from Kotetsu and Izumo what happened,” Kakashi continues. “Are you able yet to talk about it as well?”

“Nope.” Iruka nuzzles into his pillow. He’s feeling really floaty and he’d like to go back to sleep.

Kakashi chuckles. Iruka receives a kiss to his hair and a tighter grip on his hand. “Sleep, then, my love. I’ll see if Sakura can get you on something less strong, enough that we can talk soon.”

“‘Kay. Love you.”

He falls back asleep.

~

When he wakes the second time, there’s a different kind of energy in the room—a different sort of love in the air, and Iruka knows it sounds crazy but he can just tell, even with his eyes still closed, when he’s around Kakashi or if he’s around Naruto.

Now, it’s Naruto.

Also, he can feel the carving in his back, so whatever they’d had him on before they’d lowered the dosage or put him on something else entirely.

“Hey, Naruto,” Iruka says, opening his eyes.

In the chair beside his head, the blond bundle sits, knee twitching. With his bandaged arm crossed over his other and his head bowed in thought, he almost looks like the adult he’s so close to being, instead of the teenager he still is. They argue good-naturedly about it all the time; Naruto insists that he’s an adult, but at eighteen, he’s still technically a teenager and Iruka reminds him of it as much as he can.

“Iru-nii! How are you feeling?”

“Like someone took a carving knife to my back,” Iruka scoffs. “Also, strangely drained.”

Naruto nods. “Sakura-chan said that the new pain medicine has the side-effect of making it feel like you’re chakra-exhausted. But,” he frowns, “she also said that the dose should be strong enough that you wouldn’t be in too much pain when you wake up.”

“It’s bearable, Naruto. You…” He sighs, “You didn’t see me when I came in, did you?”

He shakes his head. “I was out with Kiba and Shikamaru. Kakashi-sensei told me about you this morning, when we got back. You’ve been drifting in and out for, like, three days!”

Iruka buries his face in his pillow and groans. There goes his hope that the carvings won’t scar.

“He says he’ll be by later,” Naruto adds. He shivers comically. “I still don’t see why you’d pick him of all people, Iru-nii.”

Iruka smiles. “You have a different experience with him as his student.” The smile fades and he asks, “Has there been any progress made on fixing my back?”

Naruto sobers. “See, that’s the thing. Every time Sakura tries to get close with some kind of medical ninjutsu—or even with normal healing balms and stitches—the cuts react violently. Like there’s some bad chakra embedded inside them.”

“Has anyone had a Hyūga come and look at it?” Iruka muses. “If there’s chakra in the cuts, then a Hyūga would see it with the Byakugan.”

Naruto jumps up. “You’re a genius! I’ll go and check with Sakura-chan!”

Iruka watches him leave and sighs fondly. Kakashi did well with him, he thinks, and then closes his eyes and drifts.

~

At least he’s able to move around on his own now. Iruka washes his hands in the bathroom and then braces his palms on the sink. It’s been almost a week, and no one is any closer to figuring out how to fix his back.

Having a Hyūga look at the wounds didn’t help. It nearly blinded Hinata. Iruka still feels horribly guilty about it, but she can still see and activate her Byakugan, so he’s been told multiple times to let it go.

What she had seen made everyone uneasy though. A slimy discharge of chakra oozing from the wounds, bright and powerful enough that Hinata had to close her eyes against it.

Sakura has a small team of medi-nins on his case, researching at all hours. Two days, and they still haven’t found anything.

Iruka’s frustrated.

Kakashi visits every night and Naruto most mornings. It’s nice, but he’d rather be back in class with his kids.

He had to get a blood transfusion last night. His back hasn’t stopped bleeding, and the blood loss finally caught up to him.

Iruka turns his back to the mirror, takes off his shirt gingerly, and looks over his shoulder at the carvings. He frowns—it looks odd. This is the first time he’s gotten to see the wounds, and he can’t imagine no one's noticed…

He leaves the bathroom and hunts around in the stack of drawers by his bed. “Ha!” He finds a pad of paper and a pencil, and heads back into the bathroom.

It’s difficult, transcribing the still bleeding wounds onto paper through a mirror while looking over his shoulder. It’s even harder once the dose of painkillers he’s on fully metabolizes and he’s not yet done. Twisting his upper back, stretching and sitting on the edge of the sink so he can see his lower back—it aches.

A voice comes from the other side of the door, along with a soft knock. “Iruka-sensei? Is everything alright?”

Sakura.

He places the pad and pencil on the counter and slides the door open. “Sakura, has no one realized that the wounds are words?” he asks.

She looks startled. “Huh?”

“Could you please clean them for me again, and check that I’ve transcribed it correctly?” Iruka reaches back inside the bathroom and gives the pad of paper to Sakura. “I’m sure Rokudaime-sama will be interested in this.”

Sakura finally catches up. “Yes! Um, let me get you another dose of painkillers, and a flush kit. If you could sit back down, Sensei? I’ll be right back!”

Iruka just about collapses onto the mattress, leaning his elbows on his knees. Finally, some answers are on the horizon.

~

“It’s no language the cipher corps recognize, nor is it a code in our archives.” Kakashi has his arms crossed and a shoulder leaning against the window. “But they do agree with your assessment—it’s definitely a message of some kind.”

Iruka sighs, picking at the hospital food. “Validation is nice, but I was hoping for an end to this pain.”

“I know, love. Me too.”

“When can we expect word back from Sasuke?”

“If it is Otsutsuki, Sasuke should arrive as soon as possible, per my order. If not, he likely will only return a messenger hawk with the information.” Kakashi leaves the window and comes to sit on the mattress beside Iruka. “We’re going to figure this out.”

Iruka hums and leans against his partner, resting his head against Kakashi’s collarbone. It’s not comfortable, but it is comforting. “I miss sleeping with you,” he whispers.

Kakashi kisses the top of his head. “I miss you too, love. The house is too quiet without you.”

~

Iruka stares at the encoded characters transcribed from his back. He’s… discomfited. He’s been staring at the words for almost a half-hour, trying to make sense of it.

It doesn’t change.

Iruka knows this language.

Not… not well enough to read it outright, but enough that with the characters cleaned up and a fresh copy in his hands, one that was written down while the scribe (himself) wasn’t in immense pain, he recognizes it.

“Iru-nii!” Naruto steps in for his morning visit. “How’d you sleep?”

“As best as can be expected,” Iruka mutters. “Naruto, can you do me a favor?”

“Hmm? Sure!”

Thank the gods he still has his moments of dull-headedness. “In the office at home, I have a scroll with the Uzumaki clan seal on it. It’s the only one, middle shelf. I need you to get that scroll for me please.”

“Nii-chan, why do you have an Uzumaki scroll?”

Iruka sighs. “Go get the scroll, and I’ll explain when you get back, okay?”

Naruto leaves through the open window, his footing unsteady. But he leaves and that means that Iruka can breathe and take the time to think of a way to tell him, when he gets back, about how he found out that they are actually distantly related.

Actually, no—how is he supposed to—shit. Iruka drags a hand down his face.

Hey Naruto, oh this old scroll? Found it in the archives after Tsunade-sama left office! It was in a box marked with my parents’ names on it. Yeah, turns out that my father was a refugee from Uzushio, just like your mother! Oh, and funnily enough, Umino is also a branch family of the Uzumaki!

That’s… not going to go over well, is it.

~

Break a thing for fragments. Break the fragments for dust. Break the dust, and break what remains. Here is fire.

To forge a sword, to fight, to curse your enemies on the eve of battle. This is the story of blood and its exits.

A word that sanctifies the change that comes when the seared skin peels. Words spoken in ritual to inspire an unmerciful Change. To speak them aloud is to hear the sword hiss.

All these things share certain patterns.

“Mercy,” saith the Altar, “is found only in shadow.”

“Mercy,” saith the Altar, “is found only in shadow.”

“Mercy,” saith the Altar, “is found only in shadow.”

…

Iruka wakes gasping, not realizing that he’d fallen asleep. He pats his lap for the scroll Naruto had brought him, and startles as he realizes that it’s not there. It—It had been there just, just a little while ago, hadn’t it???

“Mercy is found only in shadow,” he mutters to himself, looking around his room. “Mercy is found… There!” The scroll, the one with the Uzumaki clan seal, is rolled up and tucked neatly away on a table on the far end of the room. Iruka gathers his strength and swings his legs over the side of the bed.

He tries to stand.

And fails.

He catches himself on hands and knees, and then feels his elbows weaken and give way. His cheek hits the tile and he hisses. He tries to push up again, but can’t…

Can’t…

…

The Altar holds a spark.

Freol is the mouth, the door, the flame, the altar, and the reward.

Knife and sword shed blood for Freol; what is spilled is hers. Fires burn for Freol; what is consumed is hers.

~

“Iruka! Iruka, please, wake up!”

“The breath of Freol brings change and endings,” Iruka slurs, barely awake and compelled. He can’t stop, can’t stop, can’t speak anything other than this ancient language. “‘Mercy,’ saith the Altar, ‘is found only in shadow.’ Let those who gather near Freol be blessed and cursed. Mercy is found only in shadow. Mercy—”

“Naruto, tell me Sasuke has gotten back to us.”

“He hasn’t! And-and Kurama has no idea what Iru-nii’s saying, either!”

Kakashi shakes him, taps his cheek. “Iruka, come back, please.”

Iruka tries to say I’m sorry Kakashi but what passes his lips is a murmured, “‘Mercy,’ saith the Altar, ‘is found only in shadow.’”

~

Sakura stands in front of him solemnly. “We gave him a high enough dose of tranquilizer that he shouldn’t even dream, Kakashi-sensei. My team—”

Kakashi holds up a hand to stop her from speaking. He knows he doesn’t look good, knows he hasn’t been home in over forty-eight hours, but he can’t… he can’t stop. Iruka… “What about the scroll that was in his room?”

“Naruto said Iruka-sensei had him collect it from his home office,” Sakura says. “But no one can read it. We have been able to determine that it’s in the same language as the carvings he transcribed from his back, though.”

Kakashi looks up. “The cavern he and his team had been in—where were they?”

Sakura turns to the map hanging up in his office, and points, “East of here, near a village on the coast. Naruto mentioned—”

“The scroll is from Uzushio,” Kakashi muses, “and it has an Uzumaki clan seal on it. I’ll bet we’ll find more information about all this in the ruins of Uzushio.”

Sakura nods. “But Kakashi-sensei, you can’t—”

“I know.” He sighs. “Take Naruto and go. Find out what’s causing this. Find out how to fix it.”

She nods again and turns to leave.

“Sakura,” he calls out, softer. She stops, but doesn’t turn back to face him. That’s good; he might not be able to say this to her face. “This part comes not from your Hokage, but from me, personally. Please. He’s… Iruka’s everything. Please, find something.”

She gives him a thumbs-up over her shoulder, and says, “We won’t let you down, sensei.”

~

Kakashi watches from the windows as the nurses check Iruka’s vitals and change out his fluids. She bows to him when she’s done and then turns to leave; Kakashi holds up a palm and says, “Wait.”

“Hokage-sama?”

“How… How is he?”

She smiles softly, gently. “We’re taking good care of him, sir.”

“That’s all Sakura told you to tell me, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Hokage-sama.”

He sighs. “Thank you. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Her smile turns just the tiniest bit mischievous. “A higher budget for the hospital in the next fiscal quarter wouldn’t be remiss, Hokage-sama.”

He waves her away, “I’ll see what I can do,” he says with as much humor as he can muster. She leaves, and he goes to sit in his chair by Iruka’s side.

They had to intubate him today. Kakashi couldn’t get away from the desk long enough to be here for him; not that it mattered, because they were keeping him sedated even before shoving a tube down his throat. But it matters to Kakashi because he can’t…

He can’t do anything.

He’s stuck here, managing the village, while his students are out looking for answers to whatever mysterious illness his partner has fallen to. And all he’s good for is holding Iruka’s hand, and maybe going and lobbying for an increase in the hospital budget.

His hair is limp and matted from long weeks in the hospital. Kakashi runs his fingers through the ends of brunet strands and hopes that, when Iruka wakes up, he’ll let Kakashi wash his hair.

“Please get better,” Kakashi murmurs into the clasp of their hands. “I need you. Please.”

~

“Sakura-chan.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m getting real sick of goddesses thinking they can ruin everything, y’know?”

“Yeah.”

Mercy is found only in shadow.

~

“He needs another blood transfusion.”

“Take mine,” Kakashi offers. “We have the same blood type.”

“Hokage-sama—”

“Just take the damn blood,” Kakashi snaps. “Whatever he needs, please, just. Just do it. Take it.”

The nurses bow. “Yes, sir.”

Footsteps in the hall, rapidly approaching, signal Kakashi to a messenger. He stands up and crosses to the door just as Shikamaru slides it open, panting from his run.

Shikamaru turns to the nurses and says, “He needs a bone marrow transplant.”

The nurse looks at him, startled, and says, “Whyever for?”

“Naruto sent ahead a messenger.” Shikamaru glances at Kakashi and finally catches his breath. “The one word Iruka-sensei had said, Freol? It’s the name of an ancient deity of the Land of Whirlpools, one whose purview is to change its followers. One of the ways it does this, as Sakura describes it, is through a kind of radiation poisoning.”

“But that doesn’t explain the,” Kakashi gestures vaguely, and then ends helplessly, “speaking in tongues.”

“The message said they’ll explain that part when they get home,” Shikamaru says. “Naruto and Sakura are on their way back, arrival is estimated at thirty-one hours.” He turns to the nurse. “Can we perform a transplant?”

She hums thoughtfully. “Normally, I’d say yes. But Iruka-sensei doesn’t have any close blood relatives, and if his own marrow is compromised as you say we can’t assume an autologous transplant will be effective.”

Kakashi’s heart stops. “But—”

“But,” the nurse continues, “we can start him on a treatment regimen which will increase his white blood cell count. We’ll start checking in with frequent blood tests. We can also start on a broad-spectrum heavy metals sequestration; we’ll cover Iodine, thallium, caesium, plutonium, and curium. They’re the most common.”

Kakashi motions to her, and says to Shikamaru, “She’s my favorite.”

“You shouldn’t have favorites, Kakashi-sama.”

He groans. The nurse smiles and says, “I’ll go order those tests and treatments,” and then ducks around Shikamaru and leaves.

~

Kakashi holds the scroll open on his desk, reading the translation Sakura and Naruto brought back. It’s a puzzle in its own right, but coupled with the Uzumaki scroll Iruka had kept in their office, Kakashi finds himself even more thoroughly confused.

“I understand how you came to the conclusion of radiation,” he says. “But I don’t understand how this is supposed to explain why Iruka began speaking the language. Because that is what happened, isn’t it?”

“That’s where a little bit of Iruka-sensei knowledge comes in handy,” Naruto says. He steps forward and points to a line near the bottom. “‘Many others can open the way. Few can place a seal where there was none before.’ And then I remembered this one, off-hand comment Iruka-sensei had made when we were kids. That the people from Uzushio were really good with fūinjutsu.”

“And that has to do with Iruka?”

“Kakashi-sensei,” Naruto groans, like he’s the genius and Kakashi is being deliberately stupid. “Umino is an Uzushio family! ‘Few can place a seal where there was none before’! I’ve seen him do that, just, poof, barrier seals.”

“Naruto, I know he’s from Uzushio. What does that have to do with his condition?”

“Freol,” Sakura says. “When he and the other chūnin got close to that cave. She recognized him as one of hers and marked him.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because the same thing happened to Naruto when we got close.”

Kakashi stands up, vaults over the desk and puts his hands on Naruto’s shoulders. “You’re alright?”

“Kurama beat her up and kept me safe,” Naruto nodded. “But I could hear her. She said something like, ‘the flames will consume, or change, or seal at my whim.’ She was angry.”

Kakashi sighs and drops his hands. “And even Kurama doesn’t recognize this goddess?”

“Actually, once they came into contact, he did recognize her,” Naruto says. “Freol was a protector of the Land of Whirlpools, he says, a creator of soldiers superior to ninja.”

“Superior?”

Sakura interjects, motioning back to the scrolls on his desk. “Right here, see. ‘Hers is the flame which hides in the flesh and the soul and twists both into something new.’ But also, this line, ‘What is left behind is Changed, and may Change others in turn.’”

“Kurama was able to tell us about Uzushio as it once was, back in the warring states,” Naruto continues. “That there would be those who would willingly sacrifice themselves to Freol, for the chance to Change into something more. Something different.”

“A superior soldier,” Kakashi muses. “And this Change. This is what’s happening to Iruka.”

Both of them nodded. “That’s what we think.”

“How do we stop it?”

“That’s the thing,” Sakura’s face falls. “I don’t think there’s a way to stop the process once it starts. Freol marks those she wishes to undergo the Change, and then… Well, all of the writings we managed to find say that the sacrifices either come out stronger, or their families seal their bodies into stasis, or—”

She stops, choking on tears she fights back with every bit of training she’d gone through.

“Or they die,” Kakashi finishes in a soft, defeated voice.

All three of them stand silent in the office for a long time.

~

Kakashi finds himself sleeping in Iruka’s hospital room most nights. The treatment is hell on his partner’s body—the windows are covered with heavy curtains now, to keep out the sunlight which could very easily burn his skin on the medication; hair which was once limp and matted is now starting to fall out every time Kakashi pulls a brush through it; his lips are chapped and broken around the tube, his skin dry and thin everywhere else. The nurses had to change his IV from his arm to the back of his hand today, because the veins in his arm are becoming too thin to support the needle.

He’s dying.

Iruka’s dying, and all Kakashi can do is hold his hand and watch.

And, gods, the last thing they said to each other… Iruka was speaking a different language and Kakashi was begging him to wake up.

Will he really have to watch Iruka die, knowing that he’ll never get to hear I love you from those lips again?

Kakashi buries his face in his arms, carefully arranged over Iruka’s thigh. He used to have such thick, muscular thighs; it’s barely skin and bone now.

Alone, with only his dying partner to hear—or not—Kakashi lets himself cry.

~

“I’m going to try something.”

“Naruto, please—”

“No. Kakashi-sensei, Iru-nii is strong. And Freol won’t pursue him if he goes through the Change, right?”

“There’s no guarantee of that.”

“He’ll be stronger, just like the other sacrifices who survived. Kakashi-sensei, all Iru-nii needs to do is survive.”

“The Change—”

“We’ll deal with it when we’re on the other side of this!”

Naruto places his hands on Iruka, and the Nine-Tail’s Cloak bubbles up around him.

The monitors, registering Iruka’s nervous system, don’t react. He’s in no further pain.

Kakashi feels the tiniest bit lighter. “I hope this works, Naruto.”

“It was Kurama’s idea,” the teen grins. “He remembered that normal healing jutsu wasn’t working before; but he was able to beat back Freol himself when she came after me. So letting Iru-nii use Kurama’s chakra as a kind of life support—it should keep Freol from making this worse at least, right? While he gets better?”

It doesn’t make sense. It shouldn’t work.

But it does.

~

Almost a week later, the nurses are removing the tubes from his throat, and Kakashi is pacing the room waiting for the tranquilizers to wear off. Iruka should wake up any minute now. Naruto’s plan worked. Iruka made it through, and his most recent blood test showed no abnormalities due to radiation. They stopped the heavy metal sequestration yesterday, but the white blood cell proteins will continue for a few days still, to help prevent further infection.

They still don’t know what kind of change Iruka’s undergone. At least, other than the physical.

His hair is gone. Sakura has assured Kakashi that it will grow back. It’s so odd, though, seeing his partner without hair. They’ve put a cap on his head to keep him warm—his body temperature has been fluctuating oddly the last day and a half, and in particular today he’s running cold.

Also, his scent has changed. He hasn’t told anyone about it yet, but Iruka smells different. Less like old parchment and a swift river, and more like… like a waterfall and the deep, loamy scent of rich, black earth. It’s not a bad change. But it’s significant. He’s already taken an overnight to summon the pack and have his ninken memorize Iruka’s new scent, just in case it’s permanent.

“K’shi?”

He’s across the room in a flash, holding Iruka’s limp hand and holding back tears.

“I thought—”

“My K’shi,” Iruka slurs, turning his head to face him and closing his eyes, a soft smile on his lips.

The tears fall anyway. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

Iruka hums. “L’ve you.”

He’s still on a considerable amount of pain medication, Kakashi realizes. He laughs wetly, leans forward and kisses Iruka’s forehead. “I love you, too. Rest, dear.”

“M’kay.”

And just like that, he is breathing slow and steady, his eyes close gently, and he is sleeping peacefully for the first time in months. Kakashi falls back into his chair with a huff and tips his head to the ceiling, still holding Iruka’s hand, and also, finally, finding an easy sleep.

[with-love-anu]

Flirting Disasters

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader Summary: You fell in love with Sirius Black while working together with him at the order while he dismisses every move you make on him Warnings: Second hand-embarrassment, drinking problems, passing out, break-down. Word Count: 3,789

You fiddled with your purse thinking about your first order meeting. Granted, you were an expert at decoding messages coming from your immense study of Runes; but you could very well handle yourself in a fight too.

Dumbledore already told you about your job. Decode the messages and try to find out the course of action of the death eaters. He had told you that you’ll be working with Sirius Black the owner and head of the Black household, also the order’s headquarters. You’d been told a lot about him too. Being wrongly accused and sent to Azkaban by his own best friend, his narrow escape and having to stay back at the headquarters for his own good. That did not prepare you in any way when you actually met him.

He was gorgeous. High well-defined cheekbones, long raven hair that licked his sharp jaw line. He was exactly your type, if there was one. You knew then, you were in trouble. You knew, your ever flirtatious nature would kick you in the back because you just could not not flirt with him. Not when he look like a Greek god.

“Hello, I’m (Y/n) (Y/l/n) and we would be working and living together apparently. So, hey there roomie!” you said putting your best face on.

“Sirius.” He said giving you a tight lipped smile and shaking your hand. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from saying something. He wasn’t the chirpiest of people, you decided.

***

It had been 2 days since you both worked together. You heard him speak only when required.

“So this here means north, and that little symbol over there; cabin.” You said pointing towards the latest letter. “But I don’t think that’s a place or-“

“That’s a pub” Sirius said interrupting you. “There’s a famous pub on the out skirts of London named- “Donec in septemtrionis” which translates to the northern cabin.”

“Wow, you’re smart too! Aren’t you the complete package?” You smirked, eying him.

Sirius looked at you and for a moment you were sure he was going to quip back with something teasingly witty; but he just averted his gaze, leaning over the letter.

“We need to report this to the order.”

It took a while before Sirius said more than a few words to you, and not about the job. He would light up talking about his years at Hogwarts and told you stories you were only too happy to listen. You told him about your research and the years you spent in Egypt learning languages and studying symbols and encrypted text. You told him about dealing with cursed objects and the friends you made there as Sirius held on to everything you said. You still flirted with him, making him act to be all annoyed.

---

“You look cute today.” You said as Sirius came in freshly shaven. Sirius raised an eyebrow.

“You’ll look cuter holding my hand” you winked making Sirius groan.

---

You and Sirius were looking at James and Lily’s wedding pictures.

“James was so scared that day! He looked like he would puke before we threatened him to get himself together.” Sirius said grinning.

“You know,” You said making Sirius turn towards you. “I’m gonna be your bomb ass wife someday.” Sirius scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Oh you’re so in love with me.” You said giggling.

---

***

It was an order meeting. The two of you set up the long table, chairs and fixed some water and drinks on the cabinet. Dumbledore stood up.

“I’m sad to inform you all that Dominic Sanders is found missing.” Your eyes widened. No, not him.

“What?!?” you demanded.

“The aurors are on him, he had been to a confidential mission and we are not getting any messages from him. We already released two search parties but nothing yet has been traced.” Dumbledore emphasized. You bit back tears that were threatening to spill.

Sirius noticed the change in your demeanor. You had always been a chirpy and outspoken person,  and now to think of it he didn’t know how he would have handled himself without you. Over the top of it, you were extremely intelligent. You knew what you talked about. He would be lying to himself if he said that he never had the urge to flirt back. And you were beautiful. But he was done fooling around. He had to take care of Harry and work for the order, fight against the dark lord who dared to strike again. That didn’t mean he couldn’t be your friend atleast. So when he saw your face fall at the news, remaining quiet during the whole meeting he could only guess how sad you must be.

After the meeting, you slowly helped Sirius cleaning and clearing the area out.

“(Y/n), are you okay?” Sirius asked softly.

“Yes. Fine.” You said hoping Sirius would leave you alone like he did every time. Sirius frowned.

“You don’t think I would believe that shit, would you?” Sirius scolded.

“Sirius, please leave me alone.”

“No, you have to talk to me.”

“It’s not like you care.” You said as head thumped. The news had crushed you. You knew you were moments away from a complete breakdown. Sirius sucked in a breath.

“I do care. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.” he said and you finally let tears fall.

“Dominic was always like a big brother to me. He took me in when I was at my worst and is the only person I call family, I jus-“ You started breathing deeply, falling to the ground with a thud.

Sirius was near you in a second, rubbing your back. You buried your face in his neck, crying as he held you. As you slowly calmed down, you sniffed pulling away.

“Thank you.” You said.

“(Y/n), this is war. I know you are strong, but things like this happen and make you lose your faith. Please don’t. Its dark now but light always triumphs.”

“I know. I see it. I see it in you every single day.” You said looking at him. “Professor McGonagall often told me about you, you know. The young boy always upto some mischief. While others may have become spiteful over time under the things like you went through; you matured. You changed yourself when time demanded it and I admire you for it. I know there’s still good in the world.”

Sirius froze. You thought what? He looked at you wiping your tears away as he felt something leap inside him. You looked at him and let out a small laugh.

“I won’t break, I promise.” You said standing up and resuming what you were doing.

***

Something changed after that. Sirius could feel it. He would forget what he needed to do, hum Beatles songs under his breath, smile out of the blue. Everyone could see it, Molly Weasley tried her best to hold her giggles as Sirius helped you smiling and bubbling like an idiot. He greeted everyone leaving them happier. Remus raised his eyes on seeing him.

“You look awfully happy today.” He stated.

“Really? Well, it’s a nice day!” Sirius said averting his eyes towards (Y/n) who was giggling and laughing at something Tonks said; smiling instantly.

“Ahhhhh..” Remus drawled. Sirius turned his head towards his friend.

“What?” he asked.

“(Y/n)’s pretty intelligent, huh?” Remus asked.

“Yes, she is. Can you believe that girl got straight O’s in every subject she took both in OWL’s and NEWT’s? And she is quite quick minded too. She…” Sirius stopped seeing the look on Remus’s face.

“I don’t like her.” he said pointedly.

“Funny, I never said that.” Remus said smirking. Sirius shook his head.

“Like I said I don’t” Sirius said shaking his head. Remus patted his shoulder.

“Whatever lets you sleep at night.”

Sirius frowned. He did not like (Y/n).

***

You smiled seeing another letter from Pietro. He was on an undercover mission and sent letters whenever he could. He was your best friend, the person you knew would be there for you no matter what. He had sent you a bouquet of wild flowers from the area knowing how much you love them. You giggled reading how much he craved a good bowl of cake and firewhiskey.

Sirius frowned on seeing you. You had got flowers? And who wrote the letter that made you smile so much?

“What have you got?” he asked making you look at him. You smiled widely.

“Letter and flowers from Pietro! Look! Aren’t these just beautiful. I love getting wild flowers and a good book to read. Makes my day!”

Sirius tried not to frown.

“Who’s Pietro?” He asked forcing a smile.

You looked at him raising your eyes and smiling mischievously.

“Awww. Look who’s jealous? Don’t worry babe, only you own my heart.” You winked at him. Sirius’s eyes widened as a crimson blush covered his cheeks and stuttered.

“Wait… What!?! NO!” he said and you giggled.

“Keep lying to yourself.” You smirked leaving the room.

You sighed. You loved Sirius. You knew that. He made your walls crumble easily. Flirting for fun was one thing, flirting with him was another. You still couldn’t believe the day you cried in front of him. You never did that, not even with Pietro. Dominic was the only people whom you let see you like that. And you fell more in love with Sirius when he called you strong, showed you he trusted you to be capable.

But it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. Because every time you would flirt with him, he would act to be annoyed. Sometimes you thought he was. You thought maybe, he really never loved you. He thought you as a friend, or as he said to his Remus sometimes, ‘colleague’. It hurt you, it did every single time. You would smile and pretend not to notice but it made your stomach churn.  However then you would remember what Dominic always said to you. Different people had different ways of showing their love. Some people would say it, while others would show you in every small way possible. And he did. He would make sure you took care of yourself, do all these things just to make you happy. Then why in hell did he deny it?

***

Sirius and you were baking a cake. Why? ‘You don’t need a reason to bake a cake.’ The cake was done beautifully as you took it out of the oven letting the chocolate smell waft through the house. You let it cool before taking the icing knife as you both started putting some cream on it. When you were done, you both admired it smirking at each other. You took the bowl with the left over icing swiping a finger through it, licking the cream. Sirius came forward to take some but you swatted his hands away. He pouted making you giggle.

“You may be the love of my life but I am not giving you the icing.” He raised his eyebrow and came forward to take some anyway and you stretched your hands away from you to increase the distance.

“(Y/n). Give me some cream come on!” he whined. You took some more eating it in front of him pointedly. He mock gasped before coming towards you making you run away from him.

“(Y/n)!!!” he said grabbing you by your waist making you topple and fall. He fell above you as you both giggled and laughed. You heard coughs on the door and you turned to see Remus and Tonks smirking. You got up red face and excusing yourself to your room.

Sirius stood up awkwardly and performed some cleaning spells to remove the mess created by the fallen icing. Tonks went after you. Sirius could feel Remus's gaze on him.

“It’s not what you think” he muttered.

“Doesn’t look like nothing to me.”

“Well it is nothing. Besides I am not as young as I used to be. Moreover I am a fugitive. I have nothing to promise her or anyone else.” Sirius said shaking his head.

“I don’t think she minds, she flirts with you quite much. And by the way she looks at you, anyone could see she really likes you” Remus insisted.

“I never flirt back.” Sirius maintained.

“Yes, I do understand that; but you do so many things for her. You make sure she sleeps on time, she eats properly, made hot chocolate for her when she felt sad. Man, you never made hot chocolate for me or James; even when we demanded it. You are leading her on. You like her and you’re hurting her by keeping up the façade. I know you Sirius don’t lie to me.”

Sirius remained silent before shaking his head. You and Tonks entered the dining area just then. You all laughed and talked about everything but the war. It felt nice. It made you happy. There was one thing though. Sirius was acting weird. He did not once look at you. He did not talk to you directly. Was he so embarrassed by his friend seeing you like that?

“So, you and (Y/n), huh?” Tonks mused teasing Sirius. You blushed.

“Tonks, let me make one thing clear,” Sirius said sitting up straighter. “There is nothing between me and (Y/n). Ever was or will be.” Sirius said the last part looking at you and you froze. Your mind reeled as maintained a poker face. Tonks head whipped towards you when Sirius said it, knowing you liked him. Besides she was a good friend throughout your years at Hogwarts. She glared at him all evening. As for you, you felt like you were sinking. Your heart thumped and your stomach churned. You hated every moment you made yourself believe Sirius did like you.

When the evening ended, you went straight to your room not looking once at the man who broke your heart so terribly. As you closed the door behind you, you fell on the ground with a thump. You put your hand over your mouth as you cried out. Your whole body shook as broke down completely. All you could hear was his words being played over and over in your mind. Your mind was numb as you slowly got up and went to the bathroom to wash your face. The silence crushed you. As you lay in your bed that night, you hugged your pillows. Sirius Black did not like you. Never had. Ever will.

Sirius regretted his words as soon as he said them. He saw your face fall for a moment before you completely masked it up. He hated himself. You did not say anything to him after that, or do so much as spare a glance over to him. He did not know what to do. Maybe you’ll hear him out the next day.

He couldn’t be more wrong. You acted like a robot around him, speaking only when necessary. No jokes, no greetings. You had raised up your guards around him. It crushed him. He felt Remus's words buzz over his head over and over again. You like her. His stomach churned and his heart thumped out of his chest. What had he done?

***

Your head zoomed as you heard Snape tell you three about harry and other children. They were underage! How were they going to handle themselves? You rushed to your room grabbing a coat.

“Where do you think you are going” Sirius growled as he saw you, ready to leave with them.

“To the ministry.” you said grabbing some floo powder.

“No you’re not, you’re staying here.” He said raising his eyebrows.

“And who are you exactly to tell me? I’m a member of the order as well. I’m going.” You said.

***

The place was a mess. Sirius could see spells fired everywhere and he made sure to know where harry was at all times. He dueled with Bellatrix, remembering old times. He stumbled back when a curse hit him in the chest.

“Stupefy!” he heard (Y/n)’s voice and saw his cousin turn to her.

“My oh my, such a beautiful girl! Crucio!” Bellatrix screamed.

Sirius felt all the air leave his lungs as (Y/n) withered in agony. He shouted to release her as someone cursed Bellatrix making her stumble. (Y/n) fell to the ground, her body limb. Sirius scrambled to her not able to control the situation.

“(Y/n)! (Y/n)!” He slapped her face, but to no avail. Remus came beside him. “Sirius, an emergency healer was sent to the headquarters, quick, take her there!” Sirius picked (Y/n) up apprating quickly. His heart thumped. Hold on, (Y/n). We’re almost there.

The healer was fast. He took (Y/n) from him taking her to the guest bedroom telling him to stay outside. Sirius slumped to the ground. Tears fell from his eyes as his mind reeled him with what happened moments ago.

***

The healer came out after what felt like hours. Sirius refused to eat anything Remus offered. Not until he saw (Y/n). Sirius was up in an instant, wanting to hear what the healer said.

“She was hit by a pretty huge curse. She’s in coma right now. We don’t know when or if she’ll wake up.”

“What do you mean ‘IF’!?!” Sirius roared.

“It’s more likely that she’ll wake up. But she’s in a coma. We can do nothing but wait.”

Sirius felt like he was going to punch the healer, but Remus held him back.

“We understand.” He said glaring at Sirius.

***

It had been 10 days. 10 days since (Y/n) lay lifeless on the bed. Sirius would read to her, sit by her, and fell asleep beside her in case she woke up at night. He watched her face as he tried to control herself. He would give everything up if was just to see her again. To hear her voice. What if she never…

“(Y/n).”

“(Y/n). Wake up. You’ve been sleeping for so long.”

“I have been an idiot, I know but please, don’t punish me like this. Just say something. Anything. Flirt with me again. I promise I’ll flirt back. Every time. Even if it’s the only thing I do.”

“(Y/n)”

***

“Sirius, she’s up” Sirius was at his feet in a moment. She was awake. Finally. Remus held him back. Sirius frowned.

“She doesn’t want to see you.”

“What?”

“She asked not to let you in the room specifically.” Remus said sympathetically as Sirius eyes prickled with tears.

“Why?” he whispered.

“Sirius, I know you are hurt, but she is just out of coma. And the last thing she remembers is your fight with her. Come on, lets get out of here, I’ll take you for a drink”

“You go.” Sirius said not meeting his eyes. What would he do now?

Sirius sneaked into (Y/n)’s room at midnight. He had to see her. It hurt, it really did, and nothing seemed to console him. He drank, transformed into padfoot, but nothing helped the ache of his heart.

He stumbled a little as he opened the door to her room.

“Sirius? Is that you?” you asked, squinting in the dim light. A shiver ran through you as you heard a vase fall down.

“(Y/n)… shit!”

You sat up and performed a spell opening lights around you. You quickly muttered a spell swooping up the glass pieces. Sirius squinted and widened his eyes as the vase fell back into its place. You let your eyes fall on Sirius. Was he drunk?

“What do you want Sirius?” you asked.

He looked you and came forward stumbling and sat on the edge of the bed.

“You. I want you. I want to talk to you. Listen to your stories and have you listen to mine. I want to hold your hand and kiss those soft pink lips of yours. I want you to flirt with me as you used to before and I want to flirt back. Shit! I am such an idiot!” he said yanking his hair. You stopped him and he looked at you.

“I am sorry. I- I have no explanation for myself. I am a stupid worthless piece of shit who didn’t deserve you and still had you like me somehow. I want to be good, but I can’t I am just too selfishhh” he slurred.

“I just want you, even if it’s the only thing I ever get. Because you are so…” he gestured his hands at you and you felt tears in your eyes.

“You. You are the magic in my life. You make me angry and sad and happy and jealous and scared. You make me smile like an idiot over nothing. You make me sing whenever I remember you. I don’t like you (Y/n). I love you.” He said as he scooted closer to you making you sniff. He laid his head on your lap and placed your hand over his head.

“Sirius“ you croaked, but saw he had already passed out.

***

Sirius woke up next morning with a grunt. He looked around in haze trying to make out where he was.

“Here, take this tonic.” You said giving Sirius the blue vial.

Sirius’s eyes widened as he tried to recall what happened the previous night. His head banged and he took the vial drinking its contents in a single gulp. It took him a moment before everything became clearer. You sat down in front of him.

“(Y/n) I-“ Sirius started but you raised your hand stopping him.

“You can get shit drunk, threaten to kill my healer, punch Remus when he kept you outside, but not once tell me that you love me?” You asked. Sirius looked down, the events of the night coming back to him instantly.

“Tell me, Sirius am I that bad a friend?” You asked after sometime.

Sirius held your hands and kissed your knuckles.

“I’ve been known to be an idiot many times. It isn’t your fault.” He said making you release a breathy laugh.

“I am sorry. Please forgive me.” He pleaded.

“Did you mean it? What you said last night?” you asked not giving yourself too much hope.

“Yes.” He gulped.

“You’ll hold my hand and always flirt back?” you asked.

“Always.”

“You’ll hold me and kiss my soft pink lips?”

Sirius nodded fervently.

“Do it then.”

His hands were on you in a second, cupping your face and kissing you urgently, as if he’ll wake up and find it was all just a dream. As you pulled back breathless, you put your head over Sirius’s.

“Sirius Orion Black, you better keep those promises.”

“I will. I can’t lose you again”

A/N: I worked very hard on this one. I would love some feedbacks/reblogs/coments. Thank you so much for reading!

[abiggaynerd]

William carter puzzles part 1

GOOD NEWS for the people who wish to see the William carter puzzles: i will post them here. All these images are from the don’t starve wiki :) https://abiggaynerd.tumblr.com/post/644951846271795200/william-carter-puzzles-part-2 (Part two.)

William Carter came to America from England to be a magician. 

Unfortunately, he was a pretty shitty magician.

So William is overdue on payment on props. He’s also in debt to some pretty shady characters. He gets a message from his brother and decides to go visit. First note:  William! You are late again! Where is the muny? Do you think Mr. Witherstone is runnin a charatee? You better pay up this week or there will be trubble! I will find you! Note from Jack:  William,You've finally come to America! How exciting! Has your show taken New York by storm yet? I fear we may have just missed each other - the city was too much for me, so I've gone west - It really is amazing out here - maybe you could visit sometime?Have you corresponded with mother lately? The post is dreadfully inconsistent out here, I can't believe she hasn't met the twins yet! Warmest regards, -Jack.

William takes a train to see his brother, gets hit, and finds the codex.

Newspaper: TRAGIC TRAIN CRASH Circus wagon struck at crossing Many passenger injuries reported Elephant unharmed A passenger​ train struck a circus wagon that had broken down along the tracks at the Old Mill crossing. Dozens of passengers were injured, and at least one man is missing. The missing man has yet to be identified, but fellow passengers described him as a tall, nervous fellow with an English accent. A search party was convened but quickly abandoned when it became apparent that a [Second column begins after tear in the first column] cage full of potentially dangerous trained monkeys had been vacated in the collision. Given the remoteness of the crash site, the scorching desert sun, and the escaped animals, the missing man has been presumed dead.This is the third such incident at the crossing since the railway's construction in 1873, but the first to involve a circus wagon. Local businessman and railway investor Harold J. Rutherford assured this publication that all pertinent safety precautions had been taken, but no one could have foreseen the appearance of such a dangerous blockage on the tracks

William’s postcard: Jack,The strangest thing has happened! Please discount all reports of my demise, should they reach you. I am very much alive, despite my recent misadventures. I have discovered something, a book of sorts. I have yet to decode it fully, but what little I have deciphered has opened my mind to terrifying new possibilities. I shan't say more through post - I fear it may attract unwanted attention. All will be explained when we meet. I shall continue west forthwith!-William The address is scratched out, implying the letter was never received. 

After finding the codex, william’s career begins to take off. He changes his name to maxwell and becomes popular enough to get an assistant. 

Maxwell’s diary: A terrible form took shape in the air above the ritual last night! It was large and indistinct, but its countenance was infused with a sort of alien malevolence that chilled me to my very core. My fear was so great that I almost faltered in my incantations.It made no hostile motions, however and after having hung in the aether for a time, it shivered out of existence. What was it? Was it observing me? Is it the guardian of some deeper secret to which I am drawing closer? In any event, I am not keen to meet its like again. Ad:  San Francisco Call Classified Advertisement Requisition To appear in the [X] early [X] late edition(s) On the following days [X]M [X]T [X]W [X]Th [X]F [X]Wk Starting on June 6th, 1905 In the category of Employment Opportunities Copy (2 cents per word per edition): Looking to hire a lady assistant for a magician's stage show. Previous experience unnecessary, but should have a curious demeanor and a keen interest in the mysteries of the universe. Must provide own costume. Contact information:William Carterc/o Palace Hotel,San Francisco, California

Charlie applies and gets the job, they become very close.  Charlie’s note: Hey Maxy,We really knocked 'em dead last night, didn't we? I thought that old guy in the front wasn't going to make it. Those shadow things are so convincing - they almost scare me, and I'm part of the act! We can work on the new finale when I get back from my sister's place. I'm looking forward to it!~ Charlie 

Because this post is so long i am going to break it up into two parts!

[keepingupwithlinmanuel]

In The Heights' Lin-Manuel Miranda and cast break down new trailers and movie's long journey to screens

It’s been three years since the In The Heights cast spent a summer in Washington Heights filming the big screen adaptation of Lin-Manuel Miranda’s Broadway hit. In all it’s been almost 20 years since Miranda first envisioned a musical that represented the world he grew up in. “No one was was writing parts for people like him, so he wrote them,” In The Heights’ film director Jon M. Chu (Crazy Rich Asians) told reporters this weekend ahead of the release of two new trailers. “No one was writing parts for his community, so he wrote them.”

...

On adaption the beloved stage musical for the screen

Quiara Alegría Hudes: I want to take it as an opportunity for people who already know and love musical to discover even new things in it, as opposed to try to make the same experience. Keep the heart and soul and add to it, and go new and surprising places too, so that you can have an even deeper experience if you already know it. Lin-Manuel Miranda: I have to say, Jon, I think, dreamed bigger than any of us in terms of the size and scope of this. We spent our summer [of 2018] on 175th St. and Autobahn. You know, he was committed to the authenticity of being in that neighborhood.... And then also, when it comes to the production numbers, dreaming so big, I mean this is a big movie musical. I think we’re so used to asking for less—just to ask to oscupy space, as Latinos. Like, let us make our little movie. And Jon, every step of the way, was like, ‘No. This is a big movie. These guys have big dreams. We’re allowed to go that big. And I’m just so thrilled with what he did because I think it’s bigger than any of us ever dreamed.

On the universality of the story

Lin-Manuel Miranda: When we’re first generation kids and we come from somewhere else, we always wonder what it would be like if our parents had stayed. You know, those questions of home being real personal. Like, what does home meant to me? And every character is sort of answering it in a different way. For some people, home is somewhere else. For some people, home is the block there. And so, you know, that’s that’s worth singing about. That’s worth celebrating in a movie this size. Jon M Chu: I was so lucky to be invited into [Lin’s and Quiara’s] homes, literally—they’re all in Washington Heights. To meet the block, meet the people who they get their café con leche from, their piragua guy. All those things, I got to witness. And it reminded me, [as it did] when I saw the show on Broadway years and years ago, of my own upbringing—even though I was not from Washington Heights. I’m from the completely other side of the country, a Chinese family and a Chinese restaurant. I recognize all the love. I recognize the characters. I recognize the aunties and uncles who raise you and say, “I love you” by their food. And you have to decode everything that they’re putting on you from their own baggage, but then you have to pick up your own and make your own path. And I love that this story that they’ve created has no villain. It’s everyone’s internal struggle on the path they want to make to their future. And to me, that’s really what home is. This is not a destination. It’s the people around you on your journey, and everyone finds their own way and finds what home means to them in their own way. And all of that is okay.

...

On writing the female characters in the film

Quiara Alegría Hudes: It’s so fun and so thrilling. You know, growing up, the beauty standard I saw in magazines did not reflect the beauty standards I saw in abuela’s living room on the block, which had all different body types, all different hair textures, all different skin tones. And we would just celebrate it. And you would own it, who you were. I was it was the plucking, and the spraying, and everything. And it was also about just the spirit of celebration as you were getting ready or getting dressed, and the fun of that. And so, the opportunity to really say, “Well, here’s another notion of beauty that’s more expansive, and here’s how we take up space as we’re getting ready for the day.” It was so fun.

On making Carla and Daniela’s relationship a romantic one for the film

Stephanie Beatriz: Quiara and Jon really expanded on what Lin and Quiara originally created, and now they’re partners–and not just work partners but they’re life partners. And what was so gratifying to me, as a person who is queer, is to see this relationship in the film be sort of just part of the fabric of their community, and be normal, and be happy and functioning, and just part of the quilt that they’ve all created.

[mst3kproject]

Invasion of the Star Creatures

I promised you guys something truly awful this week, didn’t I?  Well, how about a space invasion ‘comedy’ (big emphasis on the air quotes there) produced by Samuel Zarkoff to be a double-bill with The Brain that Wouldn’t Die?  The closest thing it has to a star is Frankie Ray, whom MSTies might know as the writer of Laserblast.  He also wrote Zoltan, Hound of Dracula, which I really, really need to see one of these days.  Film Historian Bill Warren described Invasion of the Star Creatures as ‘so helplessly bad it’s almost unwatchable’.  Let’s find out if he was right.

Fort Nicholson is the world’s center for atomic research, despite apparently being staffed entirely by idiots.  The two biggest idiots are, unfortunately, our main characters.  Their names are Philbrick and Penn.  No, I don’t know which is which.  No, I don’t care.  I’m gonna call them Rick and Rick With The Squeaky Voice.  The first ‘comedic’ sequence involves Rick With The Squeaky Voice sitting in a barrel pretending he’s going to space, and getting his ass set on fire.

That sets the tone for the whole movie quite nicely. It’s stupid and it’s not funny, and it never gets any better.  In fact, as we shall see, it gets significantly worse.

For some reason, Rick and Rick With The Squeaky Voice are assigned to a mission to explore a cave recently exposed by a nuclear test.  This turns out to be the base for two seven-foot space women, Tanga and Pona, and their tuberous minions, the Vege-Men, and the entire party is soon in their clutches.  The aliens say that they have come to save humanity from destroying ourselves through nuclear war, but naturally the army isn’t into that.  Rick With The Squeaky Voice discovers that kissing the women puts them into a daze, allowing the two idiots to escape, but of course nobody back at Fort Nicholson believes their story.  Is it really up to these two to stop Tanga and Pona from heading back to their home planet with their report?  We’re doomed.

I don’t remember which review it was, but I once invited you to imagine a movie in which every character is Dropo or Watney Smith.  This is that movie.  This is proud of being that movie.  The aliens try to read the two Ricks’ minds and one is completely empty while the other is full of superhero fantasies.  Pona calls what she sees ‘completely illogical and infantile’, which is a fair description of the whole movie.

There’s a sequence where one of the army men shoots a rattlesnake that was about to bite one of the Ricks, and then cries because ‘he might have had a family’.  They try to lampoon the thing in old movies where the characters walk through the same set from different angles by doing it without cutting away or changing the camera angle, but it just looks dumb.  The Colonel gives a long-winded speech about the merits of getting straight to the point.  A forced march stops for a lovely picnic and wine tasting.  A guy gets his ass kicked by a Vege-Man and declares, “that’s the first time a salad ever tossed me.”  There’s a running ‘gag’ about fans of ‘Space Commander Connors’ recognizing each other’s secret decoder rings and immediately going into a full-on geek-out.

None of this is funny, much of it is downright embarrassing, and the worst part is that the writers have no idea how to include their attempts at comedy in the story.  Rather than the hijinks advancing the plot, every time something that’s supposed to be funny happens, the whole thing comes to a dead halt.  This gives the impression that the movie is stumbling around in the dark with no idea where it’s going.  It finally seems to settle on a plot when we find out that the spaceship is about to leave and must be stopped.  After some bullshit the Ricks convince the Colonel (and only the Colonel) to help them take on the aliens.  At this point I was thinking that this movie was pretty terrible but it hadn’t actually pushed me to the point of being tempted to turn it off…

And then it got racist.

The last ten minutes or so of Invasion of the Star Creatures are a downward spiral in which it seems like they gave up trying to be funny in favour of being actively offensive. First, they encounter what’s supposed to be a group of Native Americans on horseback.  Rick With The Squeaky Voice tries to get their attention by saying “hey, Kemosabe, I wanna buy some blankets!”  The Natives don’t speak much English but they do a lot of grunting, and threaten to kill the Colonel because they think he’s General Custer (?!).  Then they kidnap everybody and force them to smoke the peace pipe and drink firewater and the white guys only escape once the Natives have passed out.

Holy shit.  Not only is this repulsive, it is, as previously noted, irrelevant.  It has no effect on the plot other than to waste time.  The Natives do not help them defeat the aliens and neither does the Colonel, who is also in a drunken stupor.  And then, just when we think this can’t possibly get any worse, the defeated alien women declare that they must throw themselves on the mercy of the Earth Men.  This turns out to mean marrying them, and the dialogue specifically likens marriage to slavery, which Tanga and Pona seem to consider a point in its favour!  The end of this movie left my head spinning.  It’s like I watched a guy get ‘comedically’ knocked over by a punching bag for forty-five minutes and then he suddenly turned around and punched me in the face.

(Hey, I just realized… remember how I said the cave was exposed by a nuclear test?  The dialogue emphasizes how this whole area is irradiated and dangerous – and then totally forgets about it.  It’s never mentioned again and the characters take off their protective gear and never put it back on.  So… that was useless, too.)

There is stuff in this movie that could have been funny.  The secret decoder ring stuff almost got a smile out of me once or twice, because the characters seemed so earnest in their love for ‘Space Commander Connors’ and his lore.  The ‘Vege-Men’ also had potential.  We get to see a greenhouse room where they’re grown to be the women’s slaves, and the seedlings are hands or feet sticking out of flowerpots with a few leaves around them.  This is fairly amusing and I could see it being the juvenile form of a sentient plant on Star Trek TOS.  Adult Vege-Men are actors in stupid carrot costumes that they obviously can’t see out of very well, which should have been funny just because it’s so terrible, but Invasion of the Star Creatures is so bad you can’t even laugh at it ironically.

The idea of using a bumbling idiot as your main character, let alone two bumbling idiots, frankly baffles me.  Rick and Rick With The Squeaky Voice are supposed to be the guys we, the audience, identify with.  We’re supposed to like and root for them and to perhaps be able to imagine ourselves in their places, but the only thing I feel for them is contempt.  Why would anyone want to see themselves in these guys?  Perhaps it’s an attempt to say that anybody can be a hero, but the two Ricks don’t even qualify as that.  When they save the world, it’s basically by accident.  The ending, which rewards them with promotions, medals, and beautiful wives from outer space, actively makes me angry because they didn’t earn any of that!

Invasion of the Star Creatures works very hard at being pointless, and there’s very little in it that comes anywhere near a theme.  If any such thing exists, its in Tanga and Pona’s insistence that they’re here to save humanity whether we like it or not, and how the humans react to that idea.  The women say it would be a shame to see a young civilization destroy itself because nations were too stupid to work together.  Rick and Rick With The Squeaky Voice reject this entirely, which is supposed to be a joke: these guys are in the army, so if humanity transcends the need for conflict they’d be out of a job.  The rest of the plot then seems at pain to emphasize that humans cannot work together, and do not want to.

After all, the two Ricks’ attempts to summon help come to nothing.  The Native Americans never understand that these men want assistance, and the Colonel thinks it’s all a Space Commander Connors game before sliding under the metaphorical table, having never done anything useful.  The Ricks themselves spent most of their time arguing and complaining and in the end succeed only through good luck on their part and poor timing on that of the invaders.  Usually a story that begins with ‘aliens want to save primitive humans from ourselves’ would end with ‘the aliens were wrong about us’.  Invasion of the Star Creatures seems to want to say the aliens were right the whole time!

So there you have it – Invasion of the Star Creatures.  It started off kinda bad and not funny, then swirled down the cinematic toilet into outright offensive, racist, sexist drivel.  I’m trying to think of some small thing I can say about it that’s nice, but I’m having a very hard time.  I guess I kinda liked the rumbly noises that represent the alien language – that was more fun than just having the actresses spout random gobbledygook.  Other than that, I’m at a loss.  The actors suck, the sets suck, the effects suck, the costumes suck, and everybody involved was a bigoted dickweed.  Fuck this movie.