#Silent Conference in Paris | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mrs-weasley-reid · 2 years ago

Text

BUBBLEGUM BAIT

Aaron Hotchner x undercoveragent!reader

Sypnosis: Aaron goes undercover to rescue you. Turns out, you were already planning your escape. WARNING: curse words, violence, sexual advances, and innuendos (and more, tell me if you spot them) A/N: this is my first Aaron Hotchner post, have mercy lol.

Derek whistled, a mischievous grin plastered on his face. "Old money, hot daddy."

Emily burst out laughing, throwing her head back against her seat. David gave his best—he really didn't—to fight the chuckle threatening to rattle out of him, settling for a tight-lipped smirk.

"I was going to say that!" Penelope argued, turning to Hotch with a huge grin on her face. "Them ladies are 'bout to get an extremely Hotch meal."

Aaron depressingly placed a hand over his forehead, weighing all his options and regretting all his decisions. His ears glowed bright pink.

It wasn't like he had never worn a suit before, but this suit wasn't particularly the same as the ones he wore every day. This one smelled strong and titillating, radiating opulence and grandeur.

His hair was out of control as if he was a rabid man. The cologne that laced on the sides of his neck was reminiscent of asshole and arrogance. It would've been fine if he was still in college, but he was four decades into his lifetime, for Pete's sake.

He felt a hand squeeze his shoulder, turning to find the culprit of his demise. "You don't have to do this, Agent Hotchner." The woman with salt and pepper hair gave him an apologetic look.

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

"We're still working on identifying the victim. It's like she never lived here." Penelope stated as she pressed a button on the remote control.

"That's because she didn't." They all turned to find a woman in her sixties, accompanied by a younger man half her age. She stepped inside the conference room, "Jeanne Renaud, chief of the Lyon Interpol Headquarters."

Aaron stood up, offering a hand. "Aaron Hotchner." He gave her a curt nod. "I didn't get any notice about your arrival. We're unfortunately about to work on a case."

A tight-lipped smile ran along her lips, motioning for the man behind her.

The man began to distribute folders around the table just as she started to speak once more.

"The victim is Liliane Zairsev. She's from Paris and a suspected victim of sex trafficking. A month ago, we found out that this organization was moving here to America. One of us was tasked to work undercover. We haven't heard from that agent in a week. Three days later, we heard the news about dead women who had the same victimology as the ones in the file Liam handed out." She breathed deeply, crossing her arms close to her chest.

"Thirty-two victims?" David raised an eyebrow. If three was a horrifying sign in their line of jobs, he couldn't imagine the terror of the number he just mentioned.

"We need our agent back, Agent Hotchner. We need your help." Jeanne pleaded, worry flickering in her eyes.

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

"The night starts with auctions. There are two types of categories, dine in or take out. We're not sure which one she's in. We don't even know if she really is there. No matter what, once you find her, fight for her worth." Liam explained, checking the wires that hung like vines around Aaron's body.

Aaron kept silent, running every possible outcome in his head. He wasn't new to auction events, but how would he show eagerness rather than desperation? How was he going to save you without everyone figuring out that he was a federal agent and possibly risking both of your lives?

Liam straightened himself, signaling to Aaron that he was done. "Dine in or take out. As long as you choose an exclusive package deal, they will grant you a private room. That's where they would possibly prepare her for—" He paused, clenching his jaw.

As your close friend, he wasn't comfortable talking about you in such disrespectful ways. But Liam knew how vital every single piece of information he gave Aaron was.

"—your pleasure... She will likely be sedated, but she fights like a lion. Just calm her down and get her out of that hell hole."

It didn't take a whole team of profilers to know that Jeanne and Liam didn't merely take this mission as part of their job. It was personal. It was family. You were their family, and they wanted you back.

"I'll get her back." Aaron promised, earning a nod from the younger man. He plugged the earbud that Liam handed him.

Everyone waited for Aaron in front of the building. Some of them, Penelope and Derek, have yet to fade their teasing smiles.

But JJ was the one who had an encouraging smile, "You look good." She said as she dusted the lapel over his shoulders. "Take her back home to her family."

David threw a set of keys in his direction, "Don't hurt her. She's the only wife that stayed for more than ten years."

Aaron let out a small chuckle, eyeing a 1984 black Cadillac Eldorado Biarritz convertible. "I'll bring her back by midnight." He got in the driver's seat, feeling the texture of the wheel.

If only David had the kindness to whip his vintage cars out every case, Aaron would've loosened up the lines on his forehead.

"Always remember, we're inside your head." Emily pointed at her ear, creepily grinning at him

"We'll be following you too, of course. We're going to surround the place, so don't hesitate to call us in." Derek added, chuckling at Emily's words.

Aaron nodded, taking a deep breath. Now or never.

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

"Struggling will only make it hurt more." The man with sculpted arms growled, glowering at your smaller body compared to him.

Cuffs bit the skin around your wrists and ankles. Cold hovered all over your exposed skin. With the little amount of coverage on your body, naked was the closest you could describe yourself.

The man held you by the neck, treating you like an animal for exhibition. He was getting off your winces. How a small whimper would shiver out of your lips when he dragged you too fast. He thought he could do them to you just because you were sedated.

If he only knew how much you wanted to smash his face on the wall. But you had to keep an act.

Besides, that was all he could do. Watch. Because you were for other people to ogle at. For disgusting, cowardly men who couldn't make their wives cum, much less you, even if you tried.

You were a new addition to their attraction. Tonight was your first night. And you planned for it to be the last.

A woman who was trying her best to avoid eye contact with you walked the opposite way of where you were headed. She carried a tray, where a small letter knife sat seductively.

Half of her face was lined by a scar, dragging diagonally across her left temple down to her right cheek. Although the scar was visible, you couldn't help but notice how beautiful her eyes were. They were of bright grey-blue.

Without missing your chance, you purposely bumped into her, falling on your feet. "Sorry," You weakly smirked, swiping the knife in a blink of an eye.

"You fucking bitch! Look where you're going, you ugly shit!" The man shouted at the woman, kicking the tray in the middle of her picking it up.

You drilled in your head how many times you would apologize to her when you managed to escape the place and watch it crumble down during your arrest.

"It was my fault," You defended timidly. Despite the mental promise of keeping an act of being sedated, you couldn't just stand there and let her take all the blame.

The man glared at you and swung his arm. You prepared for the harsh impact, but another guy called out his name.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing? Are you fucking stupid?!" The other man yelled; he had blonde hair and an awful beard.

You took that chance to slip the knife on your back, strapped under your bra's band, hiding it beneath the cascade of your hair. You bit your bottom lip, your movement causing a slight sting to shoot down your spine. At least you were certain that the knife was sharp.

The blonde man yanked you to his side protectively, as if what he was about to do was going to be a god-like behavior. "She's a new attraction. No one would pay if she's damaged. A bruise would lose us thousands of dollars, you stupid fuck." He lectured the other, nudging you to move.

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

Aaron immediately felt dirty just by standing amongst the men that impatiently waited for some tits to jiggle or ass to bounce across the one-way mirror.

Each of them either held wads of cash or a glass of their chosen drinks. Most of them were wealthy nobodies, but Aaron recognized a few politicians from distant cities.

He lifted a glass close to his lips. Aaron has been catering the drink for a good two hours now, sipping little drops to keep himself sober and alert.

So far, he hasn't seen you. There just might be hope that you were simply in hiding but safe regardless. He has seen fifteen women being shown off like antiques, the men screaming for their high prices. If he could only buy all of them to safety, he would. But Aaron was there for you and you only.

"Gentlemen! Here's our special and last beauty of the night! She's new! Fresh! And untouched! She is available for dine in to the highest bidder!"

Aaron's grip on his glass tightened.

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

Jeanne slid a picture of you toward Aaron. "She's a brave one." Her breath hitched, fighting the urge to cry in front of profilers.

Your hair was tied up away from your face, revealing all your beautiful facial features. You were no doubt a gorgeous woman.

But besides your attractive face, Aaron's eyes were drawn to the gold necklace that sat on your chest. It was a gladiolus flower. A hidden smile spread over his lips.

It symbolizes strength and power. He immediately knew you were someone who always put up a fight.

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

Your hair almost hid the beauty of your face, but Aaron recognized the necklace around your neck even from afar. It was you.

"$20,000!"

"$50,000!"

"50! Anyone want to top that? What? I heard $80,000!"

"100,000 dollars!"

Aaron stared at your dagger, glaring eyes. He let a smirk twitch his lips.

You knew.

You knew where you were. You knew men were fighting for you. You knew. Which meant, you weren't sedated at all.

"Smart girl," He mumbled to himself before announcing, "Five billion."

The crowd went quiet. And if Aaron had been honest, he would've paid more because you were worth more.

Sadly, the bureau had a budget. He had to limit himself to 500 thousand and could move to 1 million if needed, but he'd explain his actions in the privacy of his office later on.

In that moment, he only needed to rescue you.

The announcer grinned maniacally, hitting the gavel against the sounding block. "One night dine in with this beauty, sold!"

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

You weren't sure what type of man was unlucky enough to buy your time tonight. You bet he wouldn't expect a violent woman like you.

In spite of your display earlier, you were now clothed with more fabric. Lace to be specific.

They made you change into a black lace set. The bra pushed up every tits you could offer. A cheeky underwear that made your ass rounder. A garter around your waist that hooked on your black stockings that hugged your thighs deliciously.

You moved the letter knife on your right thigh. Easy access under the short black satin nightgown. You were prepared for battle.

The door swung open and came in the blonde man who seemed to keep his eyes on you. "Sit on the chair." He demanded.

You internally protested but obliged. He placed back your handcuffs, bringing your wrists together. In his mind, there was no other way for you to escape but the door.

"This guy paid a lot for your time. Don't mess up. Or I'm going to make you regret it." He threatened before leaving the room.

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

The payment process was crucial. Money was an immediate factor, and Aaron mentally apologized to David for using his card and for memorizing his bank account information.

They led him down a hall filled with private rooms. Pornographic noises echoed as they passed each door. Most were from men. And if the voice of a woman managed to vibrate across the walls, they were a plea to be let go.

Aaron swore his ears were bleeding with disgust.

"This will be your room, Sir. Enjoy." The man excitedly said. He leaned a little, placing a hand on the side of his mouth to hide the words he was about to say, "I say you get the best out of this one. Everyone's dying to get a taste."

He managed to hold his fists back, urging a smug smirk to roll over his lips. "Then, I suggest you don't disturb us," Aaron stated before watching the man nod and walk away.

Aaron held the knob with hesitation. He wasn't sure of what he was going to be met with. He took a deep breath and twisted the knob, pushing the door open.

There you were, sat on a chair, patiently waiting for him.

The image was to be treasured, but Aaron had to remind himself that he wasn't any similar to the men who frequented that place.

A spark flickered in your eyes. Your lips slowly curved onto a smirk. "Hey, old man." You started in a teasing tone. "You can't just stand there and keep the door open."

Aaron's eyebrows knitted, but closed the door nonetheless after checking that the coast was clear from listening ears. "I'm Aaron Hotchner—" You cut him off.

"Strip." You casually ordered, taking him by surprise.

He studied you for a moment, keeping his mouth from any type of noise. Were you sober? Was his first question.

"What are you? A cop? Fed? It's fine. It doesn't matter. Now, Aaron, strip. They're watching." Your head motioned towards the direction of the camera in the corner of the ceiling.

He took off his jacket and then began to undo his tie. "Fed. How did you know? We were thorough on my... disguise." Aaron couldn't believe he was referring to his appearance as a disguise.

You rolled your eyes, "A fine-looking man like you doesn't look the type to wear a wrinkly shirt. You're obviously wired." Your voice echoed in a matter-of-fact tone. "You took your first step with your left foot when you got inside the room, but it's clear to me that your dominant is your right. You have a gun. Which I think is pretty impractical. Come closer, you're here to fuck me, remember?" Your brows were raised, impatient for him to move.

Aaron would be lying if he said your words weren't affecting him. "You have a good eye." He stood before you, glowering down your face.

"Or you're just a bad undercover." You smirked, "What are you waiting for? Kiss me."

A silent huff escaped your lips when he froze. You stood up and began unbuttoning his shirt. "You're very quick to have cold feet, Agent Hotchner." The way his name rolled off your tongue was distracting.

"Hold my waist—" You swiftly grabbed his hands and placed them on your sides, "—once you have a character to play, you embody it. Because it'll get us both killed if you don't." You kissed a little of his exposed chest and looked up at him with a hairpin stuck between your lips. "Now, kiss me." You repeated in a muffled sound.

Aaron finally caught up with your plans. He leaned down and owned your lips, kissing the pin from you. With one hand, he took the pin and reattached your lips together as he began to unlock your cuffs from between your bodies.

You pulled him closer, tugging his belt loops. You led the two of you on the corner of the room, under the vision of the camera. And just as your back made contact with the wall, you felt your hands free.

You pulled away with a gasp of relief, "Thank god, I thought I had to fuck your brains out before you could even understand." You heaved, rotating your wrist to let the blood circulate once again.

Aaron looked away, "Sorry." He couldn't help but notice your closeness.

"Mhm, must be that old-fashioned you've been sipping like coffee."

His gaze shifted back to you. The taste might've been lingering on his lips, but the action he took? How did you know he was taking his time with his drink? Aaron would think that you're a profiler if he didn't know any better.

"You owe me a bubblegum," You exclaimed, pulling him back from his trance. "I prefer a proper old fashioned. Whoever made your drink was pitiful."

Aaron raised a brow, "I'll pay you a box of bubblegum just for that statement." His eyes were drawn to your purple wrists. "Did they hurt you?" He asked, fanning his breath on your skin.

"They wouldn't even if they wanted to. My beauty has never failed to save my ass." You chuckled, getting a whiff of his scent. Your nose crinkled, "Who made you wear that nasty cologne?"

He chuckled at your expression, "Jeanne."

Your face softened, nodding. "Makes sense. She has bad taste in men."

Aaron was having too much fun, when a voice echoed in his head.

"Hotch, are you there? If you don't answer, we're going to barge in."

He pressed the microphone, "We're fine."

"We?" Derek questioned from the other line.

Aaron told the team that he'd found you, using your first name with such gentleness in his voice. "We're about to make our way out." He announced, still flushed against you, caging you in his build.

"[Earlier, she was just 'the victim,' but now, you're on a first-name basis?" Emily teased, which Aaron rolled his eyes on.

Your brows knitted, confused by his expressions. While he busied himself chatting with whoever was speaking in his ear, you began climbing on him like he was a ladder.

You fished your knife and cut the wire of the camera. Aaron's height was a huge help for you to reach such a high place.

He helped you get down, gently holding your waist to guide you. "Don't tell me you were already planning to escape?" Aaron was filled with amusement.

"I was going to kill you if you weren't a fed." You shrugged, walking out of his body cage. You picked up his jacket from the floor, "Mind if I borrow this?"

"It doesn't suit me anyways," Aaron kidded, earning a soft smile from your still plumped lips.

"[Oh, really?]" Derek taunted in his ear. Snickers rang through the speaker, and Aaron was thankful that you couldn't hear anything.

You glanced back at him, "Tell your friends we're on our way out. They should meet us halfway. The guys outside are not skilled in combat, but they have guns. We'd be dead before they can even shout 'hallelujah' if they don't move now." You slipped your arms inside the sleeves of the jacket.

The jacket could almost swallow your whole body. You rolled the sleeves up a little, allowing yourself some movement. Aaron couldn't take his eyes off you. He loved the way his clothes looked way better on you, even if it wasn't his in the first place.

"Did you get that?" Aaron spoke to his ear, nodding when he got a confirmation. He glanced at you with a stern look, and you two would never admit the small tug on his lips. "Let's get you out of here."

You scoffed, "Your help is just a bonus. I'm saving myself out of this hell."

With silent agreement, you opened the door, immediately greeted by two men who were about to check on your state.

"Hey—"

You didn't give one of them a chance to finish shouting when you kicked the protrusion on his neck straight into the center of his throat.

Aaron's eyes widened. Did France Interpol really need the BAU's help? You definitely didn't look like you did.

You took the two men all by yourself, stepping on someone's back as you placed a hand on your hip. You stared at Aaron with disbelief. "You just gonna stand there?"

Before he could even respond, Aaron saw a man about to attack you from behind. He pulled you by the waist with one hand and punched the man with the other.

"You okay?" Aaron twisted his neck in your direction, hand still on your waist.

A wide grin swiped over your lips, adrenaline pumping through your veins. And your body moved like it was dancing to upbeat music.

The two of you fought your way out of the hallway. It made every second of waiting to escape worth it.

By the time the team met you, you and Aaron had beaten up about half of the men in the place, minus those who were merely guests.

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

Jeanne attacked you with a tight embrace, cutting your air supply. "I'm so glad you're safe! Oh, mon dieu!"

Next came Liam, punching your arm. He offered a welcoming smile. "I told you to always keep your tracker with you." He scolded lightly.

"I did!" You reasoned, a playful smile over your face. "I swallowed it, but I didn't expect to shit it out and flush it down the toilet." If you were lying it would've been way easier, but you weren't.

The BAU team introduced themselves one by one. You flashed them the same sweet smile you had on your picture.

"Behavioral analysis unit..." You nodded in thought. "Sounds real." You added with a teasing smile.

Their eyes couldn't help but notice how Aaron's jacket still sat around your shoulders. They weren't so slick as they thought, "It's collateral." You lifted your shoulders.

They looked at you with narrowed eyes. A chuckle coming out of your lips, you motioned your head in Aaron's direction where he was talking to Jeanne and a short-haired, dirty blonde woman.

"He owes me," You announced playfully.

Spencer was the first to furrow his brows closer than it already was. Why would their boss owe you? Aaron saved you. If anything, you owe his unit chief.

"I can hear you judging me, Dr. Reid." You said without moving your gaze onto his. "Is that a side effect of being a genius?"

Emily's mouth flung open, "How'd you know he's a genius? He looks like one, right? Right?" She was friendlier than you had concluded.

You smiled, glancing at Spencer. "I've been an undercover for sixteen years. Reading someone became my second nature. I suspect it's the same for all of you since you can't stop knitting your brows as if you're reading a difficult textbook."

"Sixteen? How old are you?" Derek had a great estimation of your age; everyone did.

"She's thirty-six. So old, right?" Liam wrapped an arm around you, grinning.

"You started when you were twenty?" Spencer curiously asked. An underlying question in his mind. How?

You pursed your lips, a small pop echoing between all of you. "You know those movies where the character was raised to her parents' trophy?" They nodded simultaneously, like children eager for their mother's story. "My life was kind of like that." You explained carefully.

The others joined you, making short eye contact with Aaron. Jeanne stood next to you. "And we're sad that she's retiring." She announced lightly.

JJ looked at you in awe. You were only a few years older than her. It was inspiring to hear your story. "What are you gonna do after you retire?"

"Find a job that's less undercover work, but still occupies most of my days. Old habits die hard." In short, you didn't have a plan. All you knew was that after the case, you didn't want to work as undercover anymore.

"Come work with us!" Penelope blurted, earning everyone's attention. She glanced at Aaron, "We have an opening. Right, Hotch?" A sly smile decorated her cheery face.

Aaron raised his eyebrows, then met your gaze. He still owed you a box of bubblegum if he remembers clearly. And seeing your gorgeous face and watching you take down unsub more often didn't sound like such a horrible idea.

He bit the threatening smirk on his lips. "Yeah, I think we do."

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #ssa aaron hotchner #cm #criminalminds #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch imagine #ker writes a lot

650 notes · View notes

yesbutmakeitgay · 9 months ago

Text

Once Upon A Time I Used To Know A Girl

Chapter 3

Carol Danvers x Reader

Masterlist | This work's masterlist | AO3

Summary: Kamala resorts to an old friend of yours for help, things are more complicated than expected.

Angst, Slow Burn, Amnesia.

Word count: 1086

Emergency Contact

Every day that week feels about the same, Kamala takes you to an empty conference room and asks you questions almost as if it was an interrogation. By the end you have had enough of it, "I’m sorry, officer, can you put me under arrest already?"

The girl looks up from her tablet. "What, no! Although Fury did say you’re not allowed to leave the compound," she says with a nervous smile. "Listen," she notices your antsy state, "I know that this is probably very uncomfortable for you, you’ve just been through a lot and I can’t imagine what it must be like,"

"I’ll say," you murmur under your breath.

"But I know you, even if you don’t remember me, I want to help you because I care about you." The amount of sincerity in her eyes is undeniable.

You take a deep breath, "Alright."

"Let's go through some questions to assess the state of your memory," she continues, "what day is it?"

"I don't fucking know."

"Place of birth?"

"You don't need to know that."

"I already know, it's on the tablet- date of birth?"

"Do you at least have any more pertinent questions?" you say, crossing your arms.

"Okay," she takes it as a challenge, "who's the King of Asgard?"

"Thor," you answer, as if it was obvious. Kamala remains silent, maintaining eye contact, "He's not?" you ask, puzzled.

"It was a trick question, it is now known as New Asgard and it is ruled by King Valkyrie." Her tone is smug.

"King Valkyrie, as in Val? How did that happen?"

"It's a long story- wait, you know her?"

"Yes," you respond with confidence.

"Will you talk to her?" There's excitement in her voice.

"Sure," you say, hoping to finally see a familiar face. Kamala starts to run out of the room when your voice stops her in her tracks, "I’m not doing one of those intergalactic calls, they say they're encrypted, but I know they're not! Bring me the real thing and I'll speak with her."

Kamala goes to a separate room to call King Valkyrie, news about the ambush had spread all over the universe but your state wasn't exactly public information so she takes the time to explain what happened.

"Wait, how long ago was Paris?" The King inquires, Kamala shows her the device with the mission information, "We hadn't met then." There's a frown on Valkyrie's face.

"So you met when you were already King?" The girl asks, finding the timeline difficult to follow.

"No, before that, but not 'Paris' long ago, she also mentioned Belova? She didn’t join the team until recently."

"And Monica. She said something about a house in Louisiana, too," she says, looking into the distance.

"That could be a different house," The King responds, emphasizing the word 'could'.

"You think so?" Kamala asks, unsure.

"I hope so."

"Well she seemed kind of happy to talk to you, will you do it?" she requests, pleading with her eyes.

"I don't know, little Marv, there's something strange going on with her, you should speak with Carol." Her voice is full of kindness and concern.

Kamala sighs, "Carol isn't speaking with anyone at the moment."

"I see, do you know where she is?" The King seems extremely level headed for the situation she's witnessing.

"'Home,' she said." Kamala repeats The Captain’s words.

"I'll give her a call, then," Valkyrie says with a sad smile.

Kamala goes back to the conference room but when she doesn't find you, she goes to your room. "So it seems King Valkyrie will not be able to come talk for a while," she says with disappointment.

"Aw bummer, I was beginning to think I would get to go home soon." She can't tell if you're being sarcastic and neither can you.

"Tell me about this home of yours." Her voice trying to sound nonchalant.

"It's a quaint little home, big yard, beautiful porch."

Kamala is trying to hide how she's freaking out inside, hearing an exact description of the home you used to share with Carol, "Anything else?" She puts on her best poker face.

"It's got four walls and a roof." It comes out a little aggressive, you don't know what she's getting at.

"Right, okay, I'll see you tomorrow." She leaves as quickly as possible.

You feel a little bad about it, maybe you were too harsh to her, but this whole situation is making you start to lose the little mind you have left and sarcasm is the best way you know to deal with it.

You wake up in a dark room, a couple of men in black, full-body armor holding you down to a metal table as a third one injects something into your neck, you try to fight it but your eyes begin to close again.

When you come back to your senses you’re in the compound. You jolt up confused and frustrated by what you saw and decide to call Kamala.

"This is Kamala Khan," she picks up a lot faster than you expected. You become paralyzed on the other end of the line, you can feel the neurons in your brain trying to connect unsuccessfully, "Hello?" she insists.

"Kamala Khan of Jersey City," your voice is barely audible. The girl gasps with excitement and tells you she's on her way, the reason why you called all but forgotten.

You both sit on your provisional bed trying to work out what you remembered. "You're Kamala Khan of Jersey City, I know you," you say, almost giving yourself a headache from how hard you're thinking.

"Yeah, you do!" There’s a big smile on her face.

"How do I know you?" You begin to share her excitement.

"We've worked together," she responds carefully, not wanting to say something she's not allowed to.

"What have we worked together on?"

Kamala thinks for a moment, "We stopped an evil lady from destroying several planets."

Your brain is overheating at this point, "Which planets?"

"Tarnax, Earth, Aladna-"

"Aladna! I know Aladna, lot of water." Kamala hums in agreement, "They sing and dance, Prince Yan!" Kamala seems captivated by your process, "Very handsome guy," you add.

"Anything else you might remember about him?" There's hope in her voice, you shake your head, "He got married some time ago."

"He did? I don't know anything about that."

"Hmm, okay," she says, disappointed.

"Did he get married to me?" Your voice panicked.

"No, no, no! Let's move on from that." Relief washes over you.

Chapter 4

Tell me all your thoughts!

Tags: @graniairish @thelittleliars @carols-photonblast

Let me know if you wanna be tagged :)

#carol danvers #carol danvers x reader #captain marvel #captain marvel x reader #carol danvers angst #kamala khan #valkyrie

41 notes · View notes

spacedewey · 5 months ago

Text

As our situation had become more complex, Martin's speeches had become simpler and more concrete. As I remember, he spoke very simply that evening on the work of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, what had been done, what was being done, and the enormity of the tasks that lay ahead. But I remember his tone more than his words. He spoke very humbly, as one of many workers, speaking to his co-workers. I think he made everyone in that room feel that whatever they were doing, whatever they could do, was important, was of utmost importance. He did not flatter them -- very subtly, he challenged them, challenged them to live up to their moral obligations. The room was quite remarkable in the most serious sense of that weary phrase, profoundly honored.

And yet -- how striking to compare his tone that night with what had been not many years before! Not many years before, we had all marched on Washington. Something like two hundred and fifty thousand people had come to the nation's capital to petition their government for a redress of grievances. They had come from all over the nation, in every condition, in every conceivable attire, and in all kinds of vehicles. Even a skeptic like myself, with every reason to doubt that the petition would, or could, be heard, or acted on, could not fail to respond to the passion of so many people, gathered together, for that purpose, in that place. Their passion made one forget that a terrified Washington had bolted its doors and fled, that many politicians had been present only because they had been afraid not to be, that John Lewis, then of SNCC, had been forced to tone down his speech because of the insuperable arrogance of a Boston archbishop, that the administration had done everything in its power to prevent the March, even to finding out if I, who had nothing whatever to do with the March as organized, would use my influence to try to prevent it. (I said that such influence as I had, which wasn't much, would certainly not be used against the March, and, perhaps to prove this, I led the March on Washington from the American Church, in Paris, to the American Embassy, and brought back from Paris a scroll bearing about a thousand names. I wonder where it is now.)

In spite of all that one knew, and feared, it was a very stirring day, and one very nearly dared, in spite of all that one knew, to hope -- to hope that the need and the passion of the people, so nakedly and vividly, and with such dignity revealed, would not be, once again, betrayed. (The People's Republic of China had sent a telegram in our support, which was repudiated by Roy Wilkins, who said, in effect, that we would be glad to accept such a telegram on the day that the Chinese were allowed to petition their government for redress of grievances, as we were petitioning ours. I had an uneasy feeling that we might live to hear this boast ring somewhat mockingly in our ears.)

But Martin had been quite moving that day. Marlon [Brando] (carrying a cattle prod, for the purpose of revealing the depravity of the South) and Sidney Poitier and Harry Belafonte, Charlton Heston, and some others of us had been called away to do a Voice of America show for Ed Murrow, and so we watched and listened to Martin on television. All of us were very silent in that room, listening to Martin, feeling the passion of the people flowing up to him and transforming him, transforming us. Martin finished with one hand raised: "Free at last, free at least, praise God Almighty, I'm free at last!" That day, for a moment, it almost seemed that we stood on a height, and could see our inheritance; perhaps we could make the kingdom real, perhaps the beloved community would not forever remain that dream one dreamed in agony. The people quietly dispersed at nightfall, as had been agreed. Sidney Poitier took us out to dinner that night, in a very, very quiet Washington. The people had come to their capitol, had made themselves known, and were gone: no one could any longer doubt that their suffering was real. Ironically enough, after Washington, I eventually went on the road, on a lecture tour which carried me to Hollywood. So I was in Hollywood when, something like two weeks later, my phone rang, and a nearly hysterical, white, female CORE worker told me that a Sunday school in Birmingham had been bombed, and that four young black girls had been blown into eternity. That was the first answer we got to our petition.

The original plans for the March on Washington has been far from polite: the original plan had been to lie down on the airport runways, to block the streets and offices, to immobilize the city completely, and to remain as long as we had to, to force the government to recognize the urgency and the justice of our demands. Malcolm was very caustic about the March on Washington, which he described as a sell-out. I think he was right. Martin, five years later, was five years wearier and five years sadder, and still petitioning. But the impetus was gone, because the people no longer believed in their petitions, no longer believed in their government. The reasoning behind the March on Washington, as it eventually evolved -- or as it was, in Malcolm's words, "diluted" -- was that peaceful assembly would produce the best results. But, five years later, it was very hard to believe that the frontal assault, as planned, on the capitol, could possibly have produced more bloodshed, or more despair. Five years later, it seemed clear that we had merely postponed, and not at all to our advantage, the hour of dreadful reckoning.

Martin and Andrew and I said good night to each other, and promised to meet in New York.

--James Baldwin, from To Be Baptized, one of two essays collected in his book, No Name In The Streets.

#james baldwin #to be baptized #no name in the streets

8 notes · View notes

silent123456 · 1 year ago

Text

Silent Conference in Paris

A unique and innovative silent conference in the heart of Paris is set to captivate attendees with its unconventional approach to communication. This silent conference in Paris goes beyond traditional auditory boundaries, allowing attendees to seamlessly choose their preferred sessions. This unique format not only allows for uninterrupted learning but also encourages individualized engagement. For Conference-related queries, please contact us at +9811200494.

#silent conference in Paris #hire silent conference in Paris #hire silent conference interpreter Paris #conference interpreter Paris

0 notes

perhaps-in-anotherdream · 2 years ago

Text

[CN] Victor x MC – S2 CH 46 (Eng Translation - Part 1)

“All I know is that I really want to see her.”

“The moment I heard him speak, I felt as if a soft voice in my mind was whispering to me, reassuring me that it was okay not to be so strong right now.”

⌚ This post contains detailed spoilers for a chapter that is yet to be released on the global server. ⌚

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

[Notes from Anika]: I’m currently working on adding subtitles to the chapter, so I’ll save myself the hassle of adding many sprites, and probably will be skipping on adding notes for voice acting too, otherwise I’d have to do it for every line he says ahah- ಥ﹏ಥ

—

【CH 45-1, Victor part】

[Note]: The first part is the continuation of S2 CH 42-15, where it was shown that Victor and Kiro had met up in Paris. Another important segment of Victor’s “taking care of everything” before the inevitable happened. (TдT)

—

Half a month ago, in Paris.

The patter of raindrops falls rhythmically on the glass windows, accompanied by the melodious tune from the vinyl record.

As if treading on the beats, the door of the room is pushed open. A dazzling blond figure appears at the entrance.

Kiro’s gaze sweeps over the figures in the shadows of the room before finally landing straight on Victor, who is sitting in the center.

Kiro: The BOSS specially arranged a meeting with me at a secret location in Paris. So, I guess there must be an important matter to discuss.

As Kiro speaks, he walks directly to the seat opposite Victor and sits down, slightly raising his chin.

Kiro: Well, let’s begin.

Victor: I only have one thing to announce.

Victor’s gaze briefly intersects with Kiro’s, but soon shifts towards the figures in the dark corners.

Victor: Starting today, he will be the new BOSS of BS.

Victor’s deep voice resonates throughout the room, eliciting a collective gasp of astonishment.

The conference room lapses into a deathly silence, and no one utters a word. The bewildered and uncertain gazes of those lurking in the shadows silently exchange their thoughts.

Even in Kiro’s own eyes, a subtle hint of being astounded passes by, almost imperceptible.

But he quickly suppresses it, as if entering a state, and immediately displays a smile that says, “as expected.”

Hades: Since when did a test subject become worthy of being the BOSS?

Hades’s voice breaks the silence. He is the first to step out of the shadows, confronting Victor and Kiro directly.

Hades: Such a loser has no right to dictate and interfere with us.

Kiro: …

Kiro lifts his eyes, and within his radiant golden eyes, a smile filled with arrogance can be seen.

Kiro: Regarding this matter, you have no authority to intervene.

—

[Note]: From here onwards, we’re back to the present day, i.e., following the days after S2 CH 44~ do note that it’s been 15 days since the lantern festival of CH 44, but when MC says “two months” later, she is referring to all the events that took place before, minus the moments spent with Victor (TдT)

—

The early morning sunlight spills onto the desk covered with scattered documents.

Since Chen Hui was taken away by the city hall, the investigation has temporarily reached a conclusion. The company’s files and materials that were previously seized are gradually being returned.

However, following this, there has been an overwhelming influx of various government approvals and media interview articles.

The consecutive and complex tasks for over two months have been suffocating, leaving me gasping for air. I can only find small moments to do ordinary work in between and relieve stress.

I shake my hands vigorously as I prepare to submit the proposal to LFG, sighing subconsciously.

Anna: Haven’t all the issues been resolved? Why are you still heaving deep sighs?

MC: There are still so many formalities to be completed; just the thought of it gives me a headache.

MC: Luckily, all the relevant documents for the redevelopment plan have been retrieved, so it won’t affect the subsequent regular work.

MC: The several projects that were temporarily put on hold during the investigation can now be resumed. Anna, I appreciate your hard work in following up on them.

Anna: Don’t worry, I’ll take care of these things. And as for you, have you forgotten about the medical check-up again?

It’s only when Anna mentions it that I remember. The company’s annual medical examination deadline is approaching, and we’ve recently organized a round of group check-ups for everyone.

I didn’t participate in the medical check-up at that time because I was busy with the Chen Hui issue. After returning from the Lantern Festival, I remained holed up in the office dealing with various matters, and now the time has flown by.

Lantern Festival… as the two words inadvertently pop into my head, a series of gentle waves spreads in my heart. I don’t know why, but I have a feeling that I’ve forgotten something very important.

Anna: What’s on your mind, MC? Remember to make an appointment.

MC: …hmm, okay. I promise to go for the medical check-up once I’m done with my tasks! Right now, I’m heading to LFG for a routine report.

Anna: Isn’t the routine report to LFG always sent electronically?

I look at Anna in puzzlement, only to see an even more bewildered look on her face.

MC: Electronically?

I’m stumped momentarily, feeling like something has fleetingly passed through my mind, but I can’t grab hold of it.

Yeah, that’s right. Of course! It has always been the practice to submit electronic documents. How could I even forget about this?

Ever since receiving investment from LFG, all the major decisions have been conducted through online communication, with e-mail approvals, and the number of actual visits to LFG in person has been few and far between.

A familiar sense of dissonance suddenly surges within me, as if a vital part has been wiped away from my life in a mere moment, leaving no trace behind.

Perhaps noticing my unsettling expression, Anna pats me on the shoulder.

Anna: I told you that you’re too tired. Go back early today and get some rest.

I nod my head and sit back down in my seat, then proceed to open the emails on my desktop.

Indeed, the email contains the routine report for LFG, and reviewing the email history, I can see that it has always been sent as electronic manuscripts to LFG in the past.

Could it be that the delay has caused a memory bias? I shake my head. After briefly checking the document, I click the “send” button.

With the end of the workday drawing near, I set aside the lingering unsettling feeling for now and prepare to go home early and rest.

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

—

【CH 46-1, Victor part】

As is usual LOL, through various twists and turns, following the events of the prev. CH, MC finds herself being engulfed by a strong force and ends up in the familiar white desert—

The event MC gets flashbacks of is the white desert scene of S2 CH 37 and meeting a Victor with no memories. But since Victor is erased from everyone’s memories now, the details are blurred for MC even though she desperately tries to recall~ (TдT)

—

MC: This place…

Before my eyes stretches an endless expanse of pure white desert, blending seamlessly with the distant horizon.

Waves of heat surge towards me, causing a thin sheen of sweat to form on my forehead, unbeknownst to me.

A sense of déjà vu at the sight makes me freeze in place––

I have been here before.

I feel as if a comet is reversing above my head, taking me back to that chaotic and disorderly space-time overlap incident.

Back then, after Shaw and I mistakenly stepped on that glowing boundary line, I inexplicably found myself falling into this eerie white desert.

MC: That’s right… I had walked here for a long time…

MC: And then, I… huh?

How did I eventually return to Loveland City?

?? (little boy, in flashback): Don’t waste your breath.

?? (little boy, in flashback): You had just fallen into a disordered space. If it weren’t for the CORE on you, I wouldn’t have been able to locate you among countless intricate dimensions.

Ah, yes. Afterward, I was taken out of the desert by that mysterious person from the Black Cabin.

MC: …no, that’s not right.

As if to deny my own memories, I practically cry out.

MC: [yelling] NO!!

Before returning to Loveland City, I had clearly met someone in this desert.

Furthermore, that person should be someone really important to me.

Swirling in the rising heat, a blurry figure emerges in the distant horizon, but it only manifests for a mere second before abruptly dissipating.

It feels as though both the blazing sun and the illusion are jeering at me. If that person is so important to me, why is my memory failing me?

Lost in thought, I stand amidst the deadly silence of the sand dunes, the grains beneath my feet slowly swallowing my ankles, as if quietly trying to drag me into the sea of sand.

—

MC wearily walks through the desert, trying to find a way out. Finally, she finds a totem, and upon touching it, she is taken out of this dimension and into ruins, where she meets Shaw cue. Shaw’s part in the update~

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

—

【CH 46-8】

[Anika’s Notes]: One thing I want to mention before starting, throughout the entire chapter, Victor is referred as “男人” (man) while his character is defined as “Others,” unlike how his name would’ve been shown as 李泽言 (Li Zeyan) had this whole oblivion thing not happened. I’ve already wailed over it in my twitter thread, so not gonna do that again LOL. I will, however, write his name as “Man (Victor).” Otherwise, I don’t think I’ll be able to do this shit–– （ ꐦꉺωꉺ)つ)`Д˚)꘎༄ؘ

—

After parting ways with Shaw, and in the plane on her way to Loveland City—

—

After being away for two days, the unread messages and e-mails have piled up like a mountain. As I quickly scroll down with my finger, I happen to tap on a message that has already been read.

“——Hello, Miss MC. Thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to attend tonight’s networking event. I will be at the venue on the cruise ship, and I sincerely look forward to your presence…”

I blink my eyes, and then it dawns on me that a few days ago, I did receive an invitation from a business partner.

MC: Oh, yes! I almost forgot about this... Luckily, I can still make it in time.

After confirming the time for the evening cruise event, I quickly respond to several messages from my business partners. It’s only after hearing the broadcast reminder to turn off the devices that I finally put my phone down.

The past few days have been filled with such diverse and bizarre experiences that when I close my eyes, images of what I saw in the ruins flash through my mind.

Who exactly was that blurry figure? Why were there so many identical figures around that person?

And what is the connection between those overlapping points of light and the heart of the world...

Lost in my thoughts, I unconsciously sketch out that pattern in my mind. Inexplicably, a familiar warmth gradually begins to well up within me.

Unwittingly, my palm curls up, and a sudden surge of power sweeps over me. Before I can even react, everything before my eyes starts spinning.

The soft seat behind me abruptly vanishes, leaving me without anything to lean on. Caught off guard, I take a few steps back.

Suddenly, my feet sink into softness, as if I have stepped onto a sandy terrain.

MC: Why am I here again––?!

Unlike the calm and tranquil white desert from before, the quicksand this time is exceptionally swift and violent. Before I can even let out a cry of alarm, it engulfs my calves.

I quickly lift my leg, attempting to free my feet from the quicksand. However, with the slightest movement, my body begins to uncontrollably sink further. In a matter of seconds, it has already reached my knees.

MC: …I’m done for!

The image of being swallowed by the quicksand races through my mind, and I instinctively struggle, but the sinking speed only accelerates.

?? (Victor): Stop flailing about.

In the next second, a deep voice suddenly reaches my ears.

I restrain my instinct to struggle and cease my movements, listening as the voice resounds once again.

?? (Victor): Now, lie down on your back and keep your body flat.

MC: …b-but I’ll end up sinking if I do that!

?? (Victor): If you continue like this, you will only sink faster.

The other party’s voice is not sharp, yet it inexplicably makes one want to have faith in the person.

Gritting my teeth, I fight back my fear and gradually lay down in the quicksand behind me. The warm grains of sand slowly surge up, almost drowning my ears, until they finally come to a halt.

Just as I breathe a sigh of relief and try to clearly see the source of the voice, the surroundings are suddenly engulfed in a swirling sandstorm.

The moment I try to speak, dust fills my mouth, making it difficult to breathe. I struggle to lower my head and suddenly feel a strong hand gripping my wrist.

?? (Victor): [incomparably anxious] Hold on to me tightly!

Even though I can’t see the other person’s face clearly, I instinctively hold onto his hand, reminiscent of clinging to the last piece of driftwood, and slowly shift my body.

The wind and sand brush against my face, leaving a sensation of pain akin to being cut by a sharp blade, which only intensifies the anguish in my heart.

If this continues, we will both be swallowed by the quicksand. What else can we possibly do…

As I struggle, the power within me seems to respond to my will to survive, burning fervidly in my chest.

It seems to have an impact as the surrounding sandstorm abruptly weakens a little. The hand gripping mine exerts a sudden force, pulling me out of the whirlpool in an instant.

I fall to my knees in exhaustion and apply all my strength to get back on my feet, only to find that my hands and legs have gone limp.

I can only gasp for breath, allowing uncontrollable tears to roll down my eyes. It takes me a while before I lift my head in lingering apprehension.

MC: [crying] Th-thank you…

Through the blur of tears, I find myself looking into a pair of ink-black eyes.

The sound of the wind brushes past my ears, but it grows distant and muffled.

I stare at the person in front of me in a daze, and my heart suddenly skips a beat.

His dark-colored coat is stained with dirt and dust smudges, yet his figure remains upright and composed.

His thin lips are slightly pursed, seemingly due to dryness, making them appear even paler in contrast.

Peering through his slightly disheveled bangs, he gazes at me with gentle and serene eyes. For some unknown reason, unfamiliar emotions of aching sorrow suddenly surge within me.

I tightly squeeze my palm in a somewhat wretched manner, fearing that if I wait for a second longer, tears will gush out of my eyes beyond my control.

Why does my heart suddenly feel as if it has lost a vital part, so empty that it makes me unable to breathe?

I have obviously never seen this man in front of me before, yet I feel as if I’ve sketched his features in my mind countless times over, and every subtle change in his expression tugs at my emotions.

MC: [sobbing] Why do I…

I restrain the urge that arises from an unknown source, attempting to calm my breathing. Yet, the man seems to sense my gaffe.

He furrows his brows slightly and takes half a step forward, speaking in a hushed tone.

Man (Victor): [THE TONE OF TRADEMARK “VICTOR-TENDERNESS”] Are you okay?

I open my lips, but the words “I’m fine” or “It’s okay” feel so heavy that they are choked up in my throat.

I gaze into those deep eyes, and the world before me slowly becomes blurry. The determination I’ve been obstinately holding on to seems to crumble bit by bit.

…the moment I heard him speak, I felt as if a soft voice in my mind was whispering to me, reassuring me that it was okay not to be so strong right now.

Finally, I can’t hold back anymore and grasp onto his lapel, allowing burning tears to stream down unbridled.

MC: [sobbing] …I’m sorry. I-I might have been too scared… just give me a moment to calm down…

I struggle to explain, my words coming out in fragments, and I can sense the man’s body stiffening for a moment.

However, he stands silently in his spot, not uttering a word, allowing me to tightly hold onto his clothes as I sob.

The surroundings are quiet, with only my sobbing echoing in the gentle breeze. In the distance, the faint image of tall buildings seems to appear, only to quickly vanish into the heat waves.

Once my emotions have settled to some extent, I awkwardly loosen my grip on his clothes and nod incoherently.

MC: Thank you. I… I’m sorry about earlier.

Perhaps because I myself don’t know how to explain, in the end, I don’t say anything at all.

The man doesn’t ask me any questions, but his gaze lingers briefly on my dusty face, and his brows seem to slightly furrow.

With a belated realization, I wipe away the tear stains on my face and voice the question in my mind.

MC: Were you also accidentally sucked into this disordered space?

The man averts his gaze and speaks with an indifferent expression.

Man (Victor): I don’t know what you’re talking about.

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

—

【CH 46-9】

The unexpected response leaves me momentarily stunned.

For a moment, I’m unsure if the person doesn’t understand what I mean or if there is some other reason, so I tentatively try to ask once again.

MC: How did you end up here?

Man (Victor): I don’t know.

MC: …?

Hearing one perfunctory answer after another, I can’t help but feel a little frustrated. However, upon reflecting for a moment, I quickly find solace.

After all, considering that we are in a space filled with unknowns and mysteries, it’s only natural to be on guard.

Moreover... I don’t have much knowledge about this place either. Perhaps this mysterious man hasn’t entered here accidentally to begin with.

The immediate priority is to get out of here as soon as possible.

With that thought in mind, I discreetly clench my fist, trying to tap into the power of CORE. However, nothing happens.

MC: Why is this happening again… oh, right, the totem!

A sudden realization strikes me, and I promptly scan the surroundings, trying to find the stone totem I had encountered earlier. But then, I hear the deep voice of the man beside me.

Man (Victor): We should go.

MC: Go? Where are we going?

Man (Victor): …I don’t know.

His perplexing response continues to baffle me, but as I watch the man’s figure gradually fade into the distance, I hesitate for a moment before ultimately deciding to chase and catch up with him.

Since he was willing to risk his life to save me just now, it’s unlikely that he would have any ill intentions toward me.

Whether he is an ordinary solemn man who got trapped here like me or a mysterious being from another dimension, two people teaming up have a better chance of finding a way out of here.

Seemingly hearing my footsteps, the man glances at me calmly but doesn’t say anything.

I clear my throat and strike up a conversation with him, trying to sound natural while maintaining moderate proximity between us.

MC: Um... I’m not really familiar with this place. Would you mind showing me the way a little longer?

MC: But I don’t quite understand. If you don’t know where we are headed, what’s the point of moving forward now?

The man’s eyes flicker for a moment as he glances slightly behind me, lifting his chin.

Man (Victor): In order to not be caught up.

MC: ...Is there something behind us?

The specious words cause a cold sweat to creep up my back. I turn my gaze in the direction he gestures, only to be greeted with an endless expanse of white sand.

But there seems to be some kind of movement not far away.

My eyes widen as I finally see a gigantic vortex that has materialized in the desert at some point, slowly spinning and extending towards our direction.

MC: What is that?

Man (Victor): Time. If we stop, we will be swallowed up before long.

As if to validate his words, the vortex continues to expand without a moment’s pause. Subconsciously, these words escape my lips.

MC: Are we really going to keep racing against it indefinitely? Until when do we have to keep moving?

Man (Victor): I don’t know––

Seemingly catching a glimpse of my wordless expression from the corner of his eye, his tone falters.

Man (Victor): But time won’t stop. So we must keep moving forward.

His resolute tone sounds as if he is stating some kind of conclusion, which only adds to my bewilderment. But I instinctively follow in his footsteps.

Why does he know all this? Who is he exactly? And why does he keep answering my questions selectively?

I surreptitiously turn my head and gaze at his profile under the scorching sun. A peculiar premonition starts to emerge within me.

He might be the key to my escape from this place.

MC: Hey! Stop for a moment!

The man glances at me with a hint of confusion but still stops in his tracks.

MC: If we keep walking, we’ll exhaust our energy sooner or later. I know a potential solution that might help us find a way out of here.

MC: Let’s go find a stone totem together!

I squat down as I speak and begin to draw earnestly on the sandy surface.

—

[Tidbits]: it’s a nod to the orphanage escape incident of S2, where kid MC did the same thing, drawing the map on the ground to explain the route to kid Victor~ 🥺

—

MC: I’ve accidentally entered this space once before, and at that time, I happened to touch a stone totem. It transported me out of here.

MC: It probably looks like this, with snake or gear patterns on top, in a very quaint style...

I point to the diagram I’ve drawn, explaining the details. But as I lift my head to look at the man, my voice suddenly trails off.

A faint outline emerges on the distant horizon, causing my eyes to widen slightly. In a somewhat incoherent manner, I point towards the distance.

MC: The city I was transported to had buildings with a similar style… perhaps the totem is somewhere nearby!

I spring up impatiently. The man stares into the distance for a moment and then silently keeps pace with me.

However, despite scaling a sand dune, the distance between us and the city remains unchanged.

MC: Strange… why can’t we seem to get any closer?

Man (Victor): That’s a mirage.

Man (Victor): This desert projects one’s innermost longing. But the manifestation is transient, and it eventually fades away.

As if in response to his words, the distant outline begins to blur, reminiscent of a drop of water spreading across a picture scroll.

MC: …why didn’t you tell me earlier?

Man (Victor): There was no need for it.

Man (Victor): As time goes on and you keep on walking, moving forward also becomes an increasing consumption of willpower.

Man (Victor): Being able to see hallucinations at this moment is something that can be considered a blessing.

I instinctively want to refute it. But the moment our eyes interlock, the words get stuck in my throat.

He isn’t teasing me. He genuinely feels that I actually need such a fantasy right now.

MC: You sound like you don’t like seeing hallucinations…

Man (Victor): [voice trailing off] Whether I like it or not is irrelevant. If it can be a source of support for you in the desert, then it’s a good thing.

The man’s tone when he says this doesn’t sound as indifferent as before. Perhaps, within his emotions that have been weathered by the wind and sand, there still lurks a glimmer of hope?

The way I’m trying to get out of here now, has he tried the same methods too?

The moment I realize this, I feel that all my previous dissatisfaction with his attitude vanishes into thin air, and that it even surges a resonance from the depths of my heart that I’m unable to understand.

As if sensing my abrupt silence, the man’s tone softens a little.

Man (Victor): ...I haven’t seen the totem you mentioned, but I have come across some other fragments in the sand dunes.

Man (Victor): Nothing happened when I touched them, though. So I kept thinking that I couldn’t leave this place.

Man (Victor): But…

The man pauses.

Man (Victor): Now I feel like perhaps you will be able to do it.

I didn’t expect this person, who seemed to have an indifferent attitude so far, to say such words. I can’t help but be frozen in surprise.

As the man observes my bewildered expression, for reasons unknown, a subtle smile tugs at the corners of his otherwise stoic lips.

Man (Victor): [laughs softly] So, come on. Let’s continue looking for that thing you mentioned.

The sun relentlessly shines down, and every grain of sand beneath our feet reflects a blinding white light that makes one’s head spin.

I don’t know how long we’ve been walking, but suddenly my legs give in, and I hear the man speak just at that moment.

Man (Victor): Let’s take a break for a while.

MC: But the vortex behind us––

Man (Victor): It’s still some distance away from us. We can resume our journey before it catches up.

Heaving a sigh of relief, I follow him to a massive sand dune and flop down beside him. I feel an aching sensation radiating through every bone in my body.

The surroundings are eerily quiet. In the vast sea of sand, we are but two insignificant grains of sand that can be scattered with a single breath.

MC: By the way, I don’t know what to call you. I’m MC. What’s your name?

MC: You’re not going to tell me again that you don’t know, are you?

The man remains silent for a while, his eyelashes casting a faint shadow.

Man (Victor): [sighs helplessly] …I really don’t know.

Man (Victor): I have no idea about my own identity or why I ended up here.

Man (Victor): I don’t remember anything from the past.

I’m slightly startled, recalling the cold and indifferent “I don’t know” that I got from him before... So, it turns out that it wasn’t just a perfunctory response?

MC: …so, you don’t know how long you’ve been here either?

He nods and casually picks up a stone lying next to his feet.

Man (Victor): I was already in the desert when I regained consciousness. I don’t remember my past, and have no clarity about the future.

Man (Victor): But I remember that I need to go somewhere… because someone is waiting for me there.

MC: Where is that?

He shakes his head and calmly lowers his gaze, as if what he just said isn’t worth caring about. I, however, can’t help feeling a little distressed.

Even without knowing that so-called destination, he persists in carrying this one and only thought in his heart, continuously traversing through the desert without ever stopping–– for who knows how long.

I don’t know whether to call this person persistent or a dummy.

MC: What did you mean earlier when you said being caught up by time would swallow us?

MC: Also, what you said about the desert reflecting innermost longing… have you seen something in the mirage?

His hand stroking the stone ceases its motion, and he turns his head to look at me.

Man (Victor): Hm? Have you always had so many questions?

MC: I’m just curious... And who knows, maybe as we chat, you might also remember something.

Not sure if he’s been persuaded by my words, but he locks eyes with me for a moment before speaking.

Man (Victor): I don’t remember what will happen if we get caught up… but my subconscious tells me that we mustn’t stop.

Man (Victor): As for the images I saw, I can only remember a blurry figure.

His eyes rest on me as he says this, as if he is gazing upon a hazy memory.

Man (Victor): I can’t recall the details clearly. And even if I could, I don’t think I would remember who the other person was.

Man (Victor): All I know is that I really want to see her.

The surroundings lapse into silence, and for a moment, neither of us speaks. After a while, the man gently tosses the stone from his hand.

Man (Victor): Tell me about yourself.

MC: I… the place where I live is called Loveland City. It’s a place where miracles can happen at any moment.

MC: If you drive along the mountain road to the seaside, you will be treated to beautiful sunsets. The streets and alleys are filled with small hidden stores, and you can find delightful surprises more often than not…

I keep babbling on and on, sharing a range of topics from the smallest and trivial matters of everyday life to various incidents with some details left out.

I’m unsure whether it’s to break the monotony or to persevere with the hope of returning home just a little longer, and a little bit longer.

The man remains completely silent, leaning against the sand dune, his gaze lowered as he looks into the distance. It feels as if he is regarding my outpouring as mere background sound.

Amid the boundless tranquility, weariness begins to creep in, little by little.

My eyelids gradually grow heavy. In a half-asleep and half-awake state, I seem to hear a very soft sigh.

The sound of breathing beside his ears slowly becomes even. The man withdraws his gaze from the distance and lowers his eyes to the person beside him.

She has her eyes closed, her body curled up slightly, appearing somewhat restless. A faint sense of trance flickers in his eyes.

He doesn’t know why, but his emotions are stirred by the presence of this girl, causing ripples within him. And this slight throbbing, it seems like, isn’t the first time.

He presses one hand against his forehead, trying hard to recollect. Some scattered and broken images flash intermittently in the depths of his memory.

Amidst the sandstorm, there appeared to be a blurry figure. He is unable to make out the person’s face clearly, but he remembers that when she disappeared, she desperately yelled out a name to him––

The memories in his mind suddenly become blank, and the man opens his eyes, exhaling slowly.

Reminiscent of water droplets seeping into gravel, traces of those images fade away in an instant. His recollection of these fragments is becoming increasingly challenging to grasp.

A familiar rustling sound transmits to his ears, and he lifts his head toward the source.

The gigantic vortex reveals a glimpse of its presence within the shadows.

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

—

【CH 46-11】

A muffled sound comes from beside my ears, as if something has collapsed with a loud thud. Startled, I’m jolted awake and find myself lying face down on the man’s back.

From behind, deep footprints meander their way, while the sand dune where we were resting earlier is now falling apart in pieces within the vortex.

Despite this, the vortex shows no signs of slowing down, continuing to expand relentlessly without satisfaction.

I draw a soft breath in lingering fear and hear a deep voice coming from beside my ear.

Man (Victor): [the trademark Victor-tenderness] Awake?

I promptly leap off him and thank him, feeling a little embarrassed.

MC: [blushing] Thank you. You saved me once again.

The man doesn’t say anything, but I can discern the traces of weariness in his bloodshot eyes.

We got to relax for only a moment as we are just a hair’s breadth away from being engulfed... and how much longer will we have to endure these sleepless and tireless days?

Man (Victor): What are you staring at?

I hurriedly avert my gaze and respond in a low voice.

MC: Nothing. I’m just thinking about how grateful I’m to you for earlier… I’m fully rested now!

MC: Next time, you take a break, and I’ll keep watch. I promise I won’t cause us any delays again!

As I speak with an expression of making a solemn vow, it seems like a faint smile briefly curves at the corners of the man’s lips.

Man (Victor): [chuckles indulgently] You just focus on taking care of yourself first.

Memories stir up like fleeting ripples, reminiscent of a dragonfly lightly touching the water’s surface. But before I can say anything, the person beside me takes the lead in stepping forward.

After trekking through the blistering waves of heat for a long time, something suddenly catches my eye in the distance. As I approach closer, I can vaguely make out the outline of an arrow.

I blink and cautiously turn my gaze to him.

MC: Is it the same kind of fragment you’ve seen before? Or is it also a mirage?

Man (Victor): Not sure. Let’s get closer and take a look.

Ten steps, three steps, one step… the arrow still hasn’t vanished. I quickly walk closer, closely examining it.

MC: Although it’s not the totem I’m looking for, it might still be able to take us away from here… want to take a gamble?

The man casts a quick glance at the encroaching vortex.

Man (Victor): Let’s go.

Man (Victor): As long as we’re not staying in this same place, anywhere else is fine.

As the man speaks, he lifts his hand in unison with me, as if by some unspoken agreement.

A familiar power suddenly surges within my body, causing the worn-out arrow feathers to glimmer faintly. In the next moment, a powerful repulsive force swiftly sweeps us up.

—

A faint smell of blood rushes to my nostrils. I open my eyes to a desolate twilight scene, with an immense heap of armor strewn across the barren plain, reflecting in my gaze.

MC: Is this a filming set?

I look around with some surprise and hear the man speak in a contemplative tone.

Man (Victor): It doesn’t seem like an artificial arrangement. Let’s look around first.

I nod and carefully avoid the scattered feathers and arrows as we walk towards the edge together. However, as we continue forward, my puzzlement intensifies more and more, and I can’t help but mutter to myself.

MC: This battlefield feels too real… there isn’t anything like this in Loveland City. It doesn’t even seem like we are in the same era.

Man (Victor): Then perhaps it is real.

Seemingly hearing my fragmented mumblings, the man naturally picks up the conversation. However, a realization suddenly strikes me.

MC: Could it be that the disordered space is connected to other worlds…?

??: Messenger! Why did you leave the military camp and come here?

Before I can finish my sentence, a shout reaches my ears from a distance. I raise my head somewhat and see a troop of soldiers clad in armor waving at me from afar.

An inexpressible sense of familiarity suddenly wells up in my heart. I stop in my tracks and whisper inquisitively to the man next to me, my mind filled with bewilderment.

MC: It’s so weird… why do I feel like I’m really the messenger they’re calling out to? Do you have a similar feeling?

Man (Victor): No. Are you sure it’s not just your imagination?

MC: …but I have a strong sense about it. How about when they get closer, I try talking to them and see what happens?

As we are speaking, the soldiers gradually draw close to us. But before I can even probe, their eyes fall in unison to my side, and they jerk to a halt.

The originally joyful expression on the soldiers’ faces disappears entirely. And in the next second, they swiftly raise their bows and arrows with a numb demeanor.

MC: …!

With no time to react, the man takes my hand and briskly turns, leading me to escape into a deeper part of the jungle.

The sound of arrows whizzing through the air chases closely behind us, reminiscent of intangible shackles. I push aside the branches and leaves obstructing our path and speak as I gasp for breath.

MC: Why would they suddenly turn violent…?

Man (Victor): [in pain and breathless] Not sure.

The tail notes of his voice seem to be muffled. I turn around and see that the man’s suit has been slashed in several long cuts, with even dark marks seeping into the fabric.

…but how could the branches cause such deep wounds?

I anxiously pull him closer to me, wanting to get a better look at his injuries. But without any warning, a nearby boulder suddenly shakes and tumbles down, catching us off guard.

A cloud of dust and fog billows up as a deep crater is formed where the man has been standing just now. I open my eyes wide and look in the direction from which the boulder has rolled.

MC: Why… did it suddenly come rolling down like that?

The series of coincidences seem more like some kind of “manipulation.”

The man furrows his brows. It appears that he, too, has sensed something amiss. Without uttering a word, he swiftly pulls me behind a tree, seeking shelter.

The distance between us is suddenly closed, and I can almost smell the scent of blood emanating from his body. I try to suppress my racing heartbeat, listening to the chaotic footsteps echoing through the jungle.

I cautiously peer through the gaps in the branches, and an unexpected figure abruptly enters my line of sight––

That mysterious little boy, attired in an outmoded sweatshirt and oversized beach shorts, blends in among the soldiers chasing us, creating a stark contrast.

Oddly enough, it seems as though the others are completely oblivious to his presence.

Seemingly aware of our gaze, he smiles and lifts his hat in our direction.

Little Boy: How interesting! So, it turns out those exiled by the world would end up in such a wretched state.

What does he mean by that? And why did he appear here?

My heart shudders as I notice that the little boy’s eyes are not directed at me, but rather at the man next to me.

The sudden change in the soldiers’ attitude, the inexplicable assault on him from the surrounding trees… akin to igniting a flint, an unimaginable thought suddenly springs to my mind.

Could the boy be referring to him as the person “exiled by the world”?

Just as I’m about to speak, I hear the deep voice of the person next to me resounding.

Man (Victor): Do you know me?

The little boy just grins, neither confirming nor denying it.

Little Boy: Maybe? If you want to find out, it will depend on how much patience you guys have.

As the little boy speaks, his figure disappears in an instant among the troop. The next second, we hear the shout of a soldier coming from a distance.

Soldier: Over here! Ready your arrows!

The man shifts his gaze away from the spot where the little boy has disappeared, furrowing his brows as he looks down at his feet.

I follow his line of sight, only to find the previously solid and arid ground tremble, suddenly sinking like a swamp, drowning the man’s ankles in a flash.

MC: …what is going on!

Unfathomable events unfold one after another right before our eyes, but before we can even begin to process them, countless arrows are aimed in the man’s direction.

Panicking, I hurriedly rush forward. But the man’s voice stops me in my tracks.

Man (Victor): [THAT PAINED TONE—] Let’s part ways here.

MC: What?

The man’s voice is very soft but carries an indisputable tone.

Man (Victor): One thing I can be sure of now is that I can’t stay here for long.

Man (Victor): Leave me. It will reduce the dangers for you significantly.

As he speaks with a little more urgency in his tone, an invisible wave of energy ripples through the air, as if trying to forcefully expel him from this world.

As the surging air wave grows increasingly violent, the boulders in the surrounding seem to quake. Realizing that there is no more time for argument, I grit my teeth and lunge myself towards the man.

Before he can react, I instinctively grab his wrist without hesitation.

—

A familiar wave of heat rushes over us, and in the scorching air, there is a hint of dryness, carrying the scent of sand and dust.

Just as expected. We are greeted with the sight of that vast white desert once again. The swirling vortex remains at a distance, separated from us by a sand dune.

MC: Why does it feel like the vortex hasn’t moved?

Man (Victor): It’s time that hasn’t moved.

Seeing my bafflement, the man points towards the direction of the vortex with his finger.

Man (Victor): I have a sense that the time spent in that world won’t impact the time in this desert.

MC: You mean that the time in each world operates independently?

Man (Victor): It’s likely. But the evidence from one world is not enough; we need more…

The man suddenly pauses as if having a lump in his throat, and his brows knit into a frown.

MC: Why did you stop talking?

Man (Victor): …why did you follow me back?

It seems like the man has suddenly realized that his analysis conflicts with his earlier unyielding insistence for us to part ways. He averts his gaze and abruptly changes the subject.

A small chuckle escapes me, feeling a mixture of amusement and dissatisfaction. I pout my lips.

MC: Why do you think? You’re really a dummy.

Man (Victor): …

The man arches the corners of his eyebrows slightly, his expression becoming subtly nuanced. Realizing that my teasing has crossed a boundary, I quickly explain with a serious face.

MC: You yourself mentioned before that when you touched something in the desert, you didn’t receive any response.

MC: So, it’s highly probable that I was the one who brought you into that space just now.

MC: Can we interpret it this way, then? It’s safe to say that without me, you wouldn’t be able to travel to other worlds and would be relentlessly chased by the vortex, so...

Man (Victor): But my predicament has nothing to do with you.

Man (Victor): For you, the world we were in just now was much safer than this desert. It’s not a wise choice to turn back for a stranger.

The man’s words are indeed rational, but why is it making me so infuriated! I pout my lips indignantly.

MC: …I did not turn back for a stranger.

MC: You saved my life twice and took me on walking through this desert for so long. I’m way more familiar with you than I was with that world.

MC: And, by the way, that little boy who was talking to you earlier, I’ve seen him before too.

MC: If we can catch up with him, maybe we’ll be able to find a way to return to our own world!

I continue talking non-stop about all sorts of reasons, but I keep one thing from him––

I don’t know why, but there is a voice in my heart that keeps telling me––

I absolutely cannot leave you behind like this.

As the man listens to my systematic explanation, his expression relaxes slightly.

Man (Victor): [laughs extremely softly] …indeed. The reasons are quite compelling.

Man (Victor): Let’s go then. Let’s search for the other fragments.

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

—

【CH 46-12】

With our previous experience, this round of search seems to have gone much smoother. After crossing over a dozen sand dunes, a worn-out crown appears before us.

As if by a wordless tacit understanding, the man and I simultaneously put our hands on it again. As the familiar sensation of whirlwind strikes again, we find ourselves in a courtyard.

On the other side of the gauzy curtains, people dressed in gorgeous attires are laughing and frolicking near the fountain. A woman resembling a maid, carrying a wine jug above her head, gracefully approaches us.

The familiarity of the surroundings surges in my heart once more, inexplicably dispelling my nervousness. Just as I’m about to approach and intercept her to ask, my footsteps halt, and I turn around to tear off a corner of the gauzy curtain.

MC: Though we can’t fully trust what the little boy said, it’d be wise to keep an eye out.

MC: Just in case, let’s cover your face first.

Apparently not expecting my sudden move, the man doesn’t dodge me. He allows me to swiftly cover his face, leaving only a pair of deep eyes that locks gazes with mine through the gauzy veil.

His warm breath brushes against the palm of my hand through the soft fabric, bringing me a slight tickling sensation. Only now do I realize how closely pressed we are, and I belatedly find myself speaking up.

MC: …tie it yourself.

I hand him the sheer fabric, our fingertips parting as soon as they touch.

Man (Victor): [extremely softly] …alright.

As the man speaks, his fingertips wrap the white fabric around his ear.

I avert my gaze and carefully approach the serving maid from behind the pillars before finally opening my mouth.

MC: Hello, I––

Court Lady: Your Highness?

A brief moment of surprise crosses the other person’s eyes, and she puts down the wine jug to bow to me.

The familiar sense of recognition is reaffirmed once more, and I make a conscious effort to adapt to this implanted sense of identity, tentatively asking my questions.

MC: No need to bow. Have you happened to see a little boy around?

I describe the little boy’s appearance to her, and she seems momentarily taken aback before pointing towards a far-off location.

Court Lady: Yes, I have indeed seen a child like that. He is currently swinging on the swing over there!

Court Lady: It’s strange. I didn’t even feel like he was an unfamiliar face until you mentioned…

The man and I follow the direction pointed out by the serving maid and, sure enough, spot a small figure on the swing. Without any hesitation, we approach him at a brisk pace.

Just as we’re about a step away, the little boy turns his head and shows us a wide grin.

Little Boy: I can’t believe you actually managed to pull him out of that other space again… that’s really amusing.

MC: Hold on! We have something to ask you!

Paying no mind to my words, the little boy leaps off the swing, and his figure disappears in an instant. Suddenly, a subtle air movement stirs up in the previously tranquil courtyard, heading towards us.

The man tries to dodge the airflow by moving to the side, but it eerily follows closely beside him, forcefully lifting the veil that covers his face.

MC: …

Man (Victor): …

Court Lady: There’s an intruder! Guards!!

Several cries of alarm sound near the fountain. In response to the words, an invisible fluctuation ripples out once again.

The man and I lock eyes with each other, tugging helplessly at the corners of our lips. Before the surge of energy sweeps us up, we swiftly clasp each other’s hands.

In the subsequent time, we traverse back and forth between different worlds, relentlessly following the trails of the little boy’s figure.

Driving a severely run-down off-road vehicle, we make a desperate escape through a charging herd of wild animals…

Through an unfortunate turn of events, we find ourselves inside a spaceship, and out of nowhere, the alarm of the malfunctioning AI machinery blares…

Meanwhile, the peculiarly attired little figure remains at a distance that’s neither too far nor too close, observing us mockingly as we struggle.

Following another burst of white light, we find ourselves facing an expansive and deep space, akin to a starry sea, adorned with numerous translucent golden gears floating in the air.

The little boy lifts his head and looks up in quiet contemplation. As we draw closer, he looks at us with a mirthful smile.

Little Boy: Well, really impressive! You two actually managed to chase me this far~

Little Boy: It’s a pity, though. It’s just useless persistence, after all.

Ignoring the ridicule in his tone, I take two steps forward.

MC: Given that you never show up without a reason, I don’t believe this time is an exception.

MC: I’m sure you know how to leave the white desert, do you not?

Little Boy: You’re being so straightforward. But you’re the special one, are you not? Only you know the answer to that question.

Deep in thought, I furrow my brows, while the little boy has already shifted his attention towards the man, speaking with keen interest.

Little Boy: I know what you’re about to ask, but I’m not going to tell you.

Little Boy: Because–– it’s also a punishment.

Little Boy: Oh, right, I almost forgot. You mustn’t take him with you when you leave.

Little Boy: Those who assist in cheating will also face the punishment.

The little boy giggles. His figure gradually fades into transparency, and the familiar ripples of energy emanate once again in the surroundings.

–

After a dizzying spin, the immense desert comes into view again. Under the nearly white daylight, every grain of sand around us radiates a blinding brilliance.

I stagger a few steps and am steadied by a strong arm. Just as I regain my balance, I suddenly notice a plane ticket lying quietly at my feet.

Passenger Name: MC, Destination: Loveland City, Departure Time: 10:45 AM.

Isn’t this my return ticket?

I hesitantly reach out my hand, and a familiar power surges within my body once again. As if sensing something, the plane ticket emits a silver-white glow, even more radiant than before.

MC: …look! This seems to be a fragment for returning to Loveland City! Let’s go together!

A rare expression of hesitation briefly crosses across the man’s face.

Man (Victor): …there’s no need. You heard what he said just now. If you were to be punished…

I swiftly close the distance between us in three steps, clutching onto his sleeve.

MC: I don’t believe we are cheating at all.

MC: The real punishment for me would be if I, despite having the ability to take you with me, leave you behind out of fear of the “so-called” punishment.

MC: So, come with me!

The man’s lips twitch slightly, and he doesn’t pull back his sleeve. A white light envelopes us instantly.

–

“...This flight is now halfway through its journey, and we will soon be serving meals. Please remain seated and patiently wait…”

The sweet-sounding voice over the announcement accompanies the loud humming of the aircraft’s operations as it reaches my ears. Feeling apprehensive, I open my eyes and see the flight attendant approaching our direction with the food cart.

The man sits in the seat next to me, quietly observing the surroundings. The dim light of the cabin is reflected in his deep, dark eyes.

Without giving him a chance to speak, I reflexively grab the magazine on the seat and open it, placing it as a barrier in front of him.

MC: Shh––

I glance in the direction of the flight attendant and quietly caution him. Inadvertently, I catch a glimpse of my phone out of the corner of my eye, and the screen displays the current time.

13:28.

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

—

【CH 46-13】

…when I was swept away by that force, it was exactly this time.

Just as expected, all those immensely long experiences in the disordered spaces seem to condense into a single fleeting moment upon returning to reality.

Before I have a chance to process my thoughts, an amiable voice inquires in my ear.

Flight Attendant: Hello, miss. Today’s set menu offers two options: beef and fish. May I ask which one you would like to choose?

My body tenses up, and I hastily scan my gaze across the man’s figure.

Oh dear, now there’s suddenly someone in the previously empty seat. Even if I cover his face, there’s no way she wouldn’t notice him…

After not receiving a response for a while, a hint of confusion appears on the flight attendant’s face. She lowers her body slightly and speaks in a gentler tone.

Flight Attendant: Miss? Have you made a decision?

MC: …beef, please. Thank you.

Trying to conceal my nervousness, I watch as the flight attendant smiles and hands me a meal tray. Then, she pushes the food cart and heads straight towards the back row.

The man and I share glances with each other before I tentatively call out to her.

MC: Excuse me, could I please have another serving?

The flight attendant looks at me with some bafflement for a moment, but professionally hands me another meal tray before moving away with the food cart. Once she is a bit further, I speak in a low voice.

MC: What just happened? It seems like she can’t see you?

MC: Come to think of it, I haven’t actually confirmed this before, but... are you human?

The man sets aside the magazine from his face and glances at me with a puzzled expression.

Man (Victor): What do you think?

MC: It’s hard to say from my perspective… do you mind if I poke you to find out?

Man (Victor): [sighs LONG AND HARD] …

The man lets out a sigh, seemingly declining to comment. His expression, however, suggests tacit approval.

I reach out and poke his arm. Hmm, it’s firm;

I then prod his chest. Hmm, I can feel his heartbeat;

I gently touch his cheek again. Hmm, it feels warm as well;

Just as I’m about to feel his hair, the man grabs hold of my fingertips.

Man (Victor): Have you confirmed it now?

—

[Anika’s Reactions]: LMFAAOOO MC!! sorry I had to stop haha. what an innovative way to say you wanna touch his 104 LOL; we see you girl 😆 when you have a life-size full course meal with midnight snacks sitting right next to you, despite the predicament, it is indeed “hard” to control yourself.~ 😂 but also, the fact that she can ask him that so naturally and he just lets her have her way with him like he always has– it simply further seals their “sense of belonging” and that line that no matter what world, they’ll always meet and are destined to be 吸引 (drawn/ attracted) to each other with or without the memories. After all, attraction to another means both emotional and physical, does it not~ ❣️

—

MC: Yes, yes, I have. How do you feel now? Is there anything that feels off to you?

Man (Victor): [GODS THAT PAINED TONE] Everything seems normal.

Man (Victor): The seat hasn’t collapsed, and the seatbelt hasn’t suddenly tangled around my hands or feet.

MC: You’re right. It’s definitely more welcoming than that spaceship world… now that I think about it, it seems like every world reacts differently to your presence.

MC: On that battlefield, the soldiers were directly on guard to fight you with swords and spears; whereas in the ruins, the dwarves simply kept their distance from you, pointing and whispering among themselves;

MC: Perhaps the inability to see your existence is a manifestation of this world?

The man’s eyebrows furrow slightly, and a hint of contemplation flashes in his eyes. After a moment, he speaks.

Man (Victor): Indeed. Other than that, there doesn’t seem to be a more plausible explanation.

MC: Compared to other worlds, this level of rejection seems relatively mild… it could be a sign that you have a special connection with Loveland City!

Man (Victor): …

MC: Why the speechless face! I’m being serious!

MC: If it’s only to this extent, I think you could totally live here. Who knows, if you stay long enough, this world will eventually embrace you?

Exhilarated, I pick up the spread-open travel magazine and gesture for him to take a look.

MC: Look, this is the seaside sunset I mentioned to you earlier… and here, during the flowering season, it’s also a sight worth visiting!

I describe the charm of Loveland City to him, but suddenly, something crosses my mind.

MC: Since you’re going to live here, you should have a name. Otherwise, it would be inconvenient to address you.

Man (Victor): …? If you’re the only person who can see me, it doesn’t seem to matter much whether I have a name or not.

MC: But selecting a name would also serve as a declaration of the beginning of your new life!

The man and I lock eyes for a moment, but then he shakes his head.

Man (Victor): I don’t have any particular ideas about a name at the moment.

MC: How about I help you in choosing one?

MC: Since we met in the desert… how about the name “Dune”? (*)

Man (Victor): …

MC: Or how about Mr. Handsome? Mr. Benevolent Enigma? (*)

Man (Victor): [much more dots than usual] …….

Seeing the man’s expression becoming increasingly nuanced, I quickly seal my lips.

In the corner of my eye, I coincidentally happen to glance at a photo of a panda in the magazine. I seem to feel a sudden surge of emotions stirring in my heart, causing me to blurt out without thinking.

MC: How do you feel about the name Vic-Vic? (*)

MC: Just the one to be a good reminder for you to talk more, instead of being like a closed-off person.

The man’s gaze lingers on the photo for a moment, and his expression seems to soften with a touch of tenderness.

Man (Victor): [laughs elatedly, unbeknownst to him] …childish.

─────

[Notes]: It’s gonna be a big note, and yes, it’s on the names:

– the 1st one MC chose was 沙沙 (shā shā), taking the first character from 沙漠 (shāmò; means desert) and using iterations to make it cutesy. 沙 independently means “sand.” so I’m pretty sure Elex will go for something like Sandy LMAO

– the 2nd one (Mr. Handsome) is the literal translation of 小帅; the 3rd one’s tricky. It’s 沈密仁 (Shen Mi Ren). Here, 沈 (Shen) is a surname; whereas 密 (Mi) means “enigma/ mystery”; and 仁 (Ren) means “benevolence/ kindness.”

– and lastly, it was, as you might’ve already guessed, 言言 (Yan Yan), derived from his original name 李泽言 (Li Zeyan); the same name his mom used to call him, the name of his panda friend, and one of the names the whole fandom calls him affectionately~ 😭 and as for why MC says it’s a good reminder for him to talk more, the term 言 (Yan) independently has the meaning of “word/ to speak/ to talk/ speech”~ ❣️

──────────

CH 46 Part 2: Here!

────────────────────

#... // ... // ... // ... // i definitely have lots to say haha but let’s keep that for my docs file with the 2nd part 💀🌊#since we are keeping the angsty parts for later discussion – the comical parts are so freakin' epic HAHAHA #also can i just?? this whole chapter is basically the re-sealing of his S1 CH 24 line—#that no matter what world he’s destined to be drawn to her and vice-versa. i’ll also take the leap now and say that this whole experience—#just re-states how Victor x MC is indeed the best choice for “love etched into the bones” theme. the way he handles himself and MC -#and MC handles him and them together - had there been someone else instead of them-- they wouldn’t handle it the way Victor x MC does :>#mlqc victor #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc #mr love victor #mr love queen's choice #恋与制作人 #李泽言 #love and producer #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc translations

80 notes · View notes

mxdimitrescu · 8 months ago

Text

Love Found in Cafe

Synopsis: Krashlyn meets a charming stranger and falls for her charms.

Genre: Fluff

Pairings: Ashlyn Harris x August Kane x Ali Kreiger

(Masterlist)

As Ali stood outside their hotel room, tapping her foot impatiently, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of frustration. She had been ready for ages, while Ash seemed to be taking an eternity to perfect her hair. "Ash, come on!" she called out, her tone a mixture of impatience and amusement.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Ash emerged from the room, still fussing over her hair. "You can't rush this hair, babe," she explained with a grin, completely unfazed by Ali's exasperation.

Rolling her eyes, Ali reached out and grabbed Ash's hand, urging her to hurry downstairs to the conference room. As they made their way through the hotel corridors, Ali couldn't help but tease Ash about her meticulous grooming routine, earning herself a playful swat on the arm in response.

Upon entering the conference room, they were greeted with a mix of cheers and teasing remarks from their teammates. Some chuckled knowingly, while others offered playful jibes about Ash's apparent tardiness.

"Looks like someone had a late start this morning!"

"Trouble in paradise, ladies?"

Ali shot a playful glare at the teasing voices, but couldn't help but chuckle along with them. She then turned to Ash and, with mock seriousness, declared, "You know, Ash, I think you might have set a new record for the longest time spent on hair maintenance this morning."

Ash laughed and playfully nudged Ali in response. "Hey, you know I have to look my best for our big day," she replied with a wink, earning herself an eye roll from Ali and a round of laughter from their teammates.

Ash huffed in mock annoyance as she flopped down into one of the empty chairs, earning a laugh from Ali as she settled in beside her. Jill, the team leader, approached the front of the room and cleared her throat, immediately drawing everyone's attention.

"Now that everybody's here," Jill began, her gaze lingering pointedly on Ash, "Today is your free day. We'll start training for the finals tomorrow. So, go out, explore, have fun, but be back here before 7pm for dinner and one last meeting."

With that, the team dispersed into smaller groups and headed out of the hotel. Ali, Ash, Christen, Tobin, Kelley, and Alex found themselves together, wandering the streets of Paris, France. They visited various shops and iconic landmarks, taking in the sights and sounds of the bustling city.

As they strolled along, something caught Ali's eye, and she tugged on Ash's hand, leading her away from the group. Curious, Ash followed, trusting Ali's instincts.

They soon found themselves outside a charming little café, the inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods wafting through the air. Ash's stomach rumbled in response, and they eagerly joined the queue at the register, greeted warmly by the café staff.

"Bonjour, que puis-je faire pour vous aujourd'hui?" The café worker greeted them in French, her warm smile faltering slightly when she noticed the puzzled expressions on Ash and Ali's faces. Translation: Hello, what can I get for you today?")

Ash turned to Ali with wide eyes, silently mouthing, 'I don't know French.'

Ali's brows furrowed with concern. "Oh, um, we don't speak French. Perhaps English?" she asked, her voice tinged with worry.

"Je suis désolé, je ne parle pas anglais. Laissez-moi trouver quelqu'un qui le parle," the woman apologized, scanning the room for assistance. (Translation: "I'm sorry, I don't speak English. Let me find someone who does.")

Before Ali could respond, a smooth, slightly deep, raspy voice cut in, interrupting the frantic search. "No worries, I speak French," it declared confidently.

Ali and Ash turned to see a tall figure stepping forward, his voice exuding calm assurance. He gave them a reassuring smile, indicating that he would assist them.

Both Ali and Ash turned to see their savior, greeted by a very tall, tanned girl standing at about 6'2. She had shoulder-length curly hair that cascaded in wild waves and stormy gray eyes that seemed to hold a hint of mischief.

"What do you guys want?" she asked, her voice confident and friendly, her demeanor exuding a casual charm that put them at ease.

"Uhh um, two espressos, two macaroons, and one of those mocha cake slices," Ali mumbled out, feeling a bit flustered by the sudden assistance.

The stranger smiled warmly, her eyes crinkling at the corners, and turned to the café worker, effortlessly switching back to French. "Ils auront deux expressos, deux macarons, et une de ces parts de gâteau au moka. Je vais prendre un café glacé au caramel avec des crêpes fourrées au chocolat. Je vais les payer," she ordered, her tone polite but firm, her command of the language impeccable. (Translation: "They will have two espressos, two macaroons, and one of those mocha cake slices. I'll get an iced caramel coffee with chocolate-filled crepes. I'll pay for them.")

She handed her card over to the worker, who took it and swiftly swiped it through the machine before handing it back with a nod of approval. As Ash reached into her purse to retrieve the money, the stranger interjected, "No worries, I got you."

"Are you sure? It seems like quite a lot," Ali asked, her concern evident in her tone.

"I'm sure," the stranger replied with a reassuring smile, her eyes twinkling with sincerity.

"Well, then you should sit with us if you're going to pay for us," Ash offered, a warm smile spreading across her face.

"I will gladly take up the offer of eating with two gorgeous women such as yourselves," the stranger replied with a wink, causing a slight red tint to appear on both Ali and Ash's cheeks.

The three of them made their way to find an empty table and settled down, exchanging introductions as they waited for their order to arrive. "I just realized that I never introduced myself. I'm Ali, and this is my girlfriend, Ashlyn," Ali said, extending her hand in greeting.

"No worries, I'm August," she responded with a warm smile. "So, based on your accent, you're American. What brought you here?"

"The women's tournament actually," Ali replied.

"Oh, that's right, the women's soccer World Cup. You two soccer players?" August asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Yep, Ali's a defender, and I'm the goalkeeper," Ash chimed in just as the café worker arrived with their food and drinks.

"Merci beaucoup," August said with a grateful smile as the lady walked away, leaving the three of them to enjoy their meal.

"Mmh, this is so good," Ash hummed happily after taking a sip of her coffee, earning chuckles from Ali and August.

"What about you? I can hear a slight American accent," Ash asked, intrigued.

"Ah yes, I'm from Florida actually, but I moved here when I turned 18 to attend a cooking school. I haven't been back since then," August explained.

"Oh, may I ask why you haven't come back?" Ali inquired gently.

"Sure...my parents died when I was 20 years old, and I don't have any other family, so there was nothing to come back to. I just decided to stay," August shrugged, a hint of sadness flickering in her eyes before she quickly composed herself.

"Oh, I'm sorry for your loss," Ali said, her smile tinged with sadness.

"It's fine. I've grown to love this place anyway," August replied, her smile genuine despite the somber topic.

Their conversation was interrupted by the ringing of a phone, which turned out to be Ash's. She took the call and listened intently before hanging up with a sigh.

"Hey...it's 6:30 already? Yeah, we'll be there. Okay, bye," Ash informed Ali, turning to her with a sense of urgency. "We gotta go. Dinner is at 7 and then a meeting after that."

August's expression flickered with disappointment, but she quickly masked it as they glanced back at her. Despite the reluctance to end their conversation, they all stood up, disposed of their trash, and made their way out of the café. They stood in silence for a moment as the breeze gently brushed against them.

"So, umm, I guess this is goodbye. Good luck at the World Cup," August said softly as she turned to walk back to her home.

Ash and Ali felt a pang of regret as they watched August leave. They had shared a connection with her, a brief but meaningful moment that left an impression on them both. As August disappeared from view, they exchanged a glance, silently acknowledging the mutual feeling of reluctance to let her go.

But just as they were about to part ways, Ash's expression suddenly changed, a realization dawning on her.

"WAIT!"

August turned around to see Ash and Ali running toward her, their expressions filled with urgency.

"We have finals in two days. Come see us? We'll provide tickets," Ash asked hopefully, her voice tinged with desperation.

August bit her lip, considering their offer, before smiling at them. "Sure...gimme your phone."

Ash handed her phone to August, who quickly typed in her contact information before handing it back.

"You have my phone number. Text me about the tickets," August said as she turned and walked away, waving her hand back at them. "See ya gorgeous ladies later!"

Ali and Ash watched August as she disappeared around a corner, their hearts pounding with anticipation. Just as they were about to discuss their encounter, Ash's phone buzzed with a notification. Her face paled as she read the message.

"Ali..."

"Yeah?"

"We're ten minutes late..."

"Shit..." Ali cursed, realizing the gravity of their situation.

•••••

As the day of the game arrived, Krashlyn and August had been texting each other throughout the night and the next day, learning new things about each other. It was safe to say that Ali and Ash were slowly but surely developing feelings for August.

On the other hand, August was a bundle of nerves. She found herself attracted to both women, who were already in a relationship with each other. The late-night conversations only fueled the fire of emotions she felt for Ali and Ash, leaving her in a state of turmoil.

As the women's team entered onto the field for the game, Ali and Ash scanned the stands in hopes of spotting August, but she was nowhere to be found. The other girls on the team noticed their searching gazes and decided to inquire when they returned to the locker room.

Upon their return, Alex couldn't help but ask, "Ali, Ash, who or what were you looking for out there?"

Ash glanced at Ali for confirmation before she spoke up. "We met someone, two days ago when we went out. We ended up at this little café, and there was a communication barrier. Luckily, a stranger named August helped us out, and we invited her to sit with us. It was... amazing. We connected so well with her," Ali explained, her voice tinged with longing.

"When you guys called us that day, we didn't want to leave her so soon, so we invited her to the game," Ash added.

"So, you were looking for August, but I'm guessing she's not here?" Kelley asked, and Krashlyn nodded in confirmation.

"GAME TIME!" Jill's voice boomed into the locker room, putting the conversation on hold as the women geared up and headed outside to start the game.

In the first 20 minutes of the game, August finally arrived and took her seat in the stands. She watched in awe as Ash demonstrated pure concentration while managing the defense lineup, and she cheered enthusiastically when Ash made a crucial save. Meanwhile, Ali proved to be a formidable force in defending the ball from the goal box. Overall, August gained a newfound respect for the players and developed a newfound love for soccer.

The shrill sound of the whistle pierced through the air, signaling the end of the first half of the game. Players streamed off the field, seeking respite and hydration on the sidelines. Amidst the flurry of activity, Ali's gaze once again wandered to the stands, where she immediately caught August's eyes. A wide smile adorned August's face as she proudly sported Krieger's jersey, cheering fervently for Ali and Ash.

Ali's heart swelled with warmth as she called out to Ash, who initially looked at her in confusion until Ali motioned towards the stands. Ash followed Ali's gaze and spotted August, a surge of happiness coursing through her as their eyes met.

The second half commenced with the resounding blow of the whistle, and Ali and Ash shifted their focus back to the game, determined to give it their all and put on a show for August. For the next 45 minutes, they poured their hearts into every play, fueled by the desire to make their newfound friend proud.

As the final whistle blew, signaling the end of the game with a resounding 3-0 victory in favor of the USA, Ali and Ash's jubilation knew no bounds. They rushed towards each other, enveloping one another in a tight embrace before pulling back to share a celebratory kiss.

Meanwhile, the rest of the team made their way to the stands to reunite with their families, leaving Ali and Ash to make their way towards August, who was waiting at the barrier.

"Congrats, champs!" August exclaimed as they reached her, her eyes sparkling with admiration. "That was an amazing game—"

Before August could finish her sentence, Ali seized the moment, pulling her in by the jersey and pressing her lips against hers in a sudden, passionate kiss. The world seemed to stand still for a moment as they shared the intimate embrace.

Seconds later, Ash joined in, pulling August into another kiss, their connection electric and undeniable. As they finally pulled away, August was left speechless, her cheeks flushed with a deep blush as she processed the whirlwind of emotions that had just washed over her. And as they stood there, enveloped in the afterglow of victory and newfound affection, the surrounding spectators bore witness to the unexpected but undeniable chemistry between the three of them.

"I-I..." August stuttered, her mind reeling with a whirlwind of emotions.

Ali's voice broke through the tension, her tone filled with vulnerability. "Here's the thing," she began, her nerves palpable. "We like you. Like, a lot. And we want to date you... if that's something you're up for?"

August felt a rush of warmth flood her chest as she looked into the earnest eyes of Ali and Ash. Their sincerity was undeniable, and for a moment, all of August's doubts melted away. She found herself nodding slowly, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

But words seemed to escape her, and before she could respond, Ali leaned in and pressed her lips against August's, a gentle yet passionate kiss that spoke volumes. Ash followed suit, her touch equally tender as she captured August's lips in a tender embrace.

As they pulled away, August felt a surge of warmth and acceptance wash over her. "I like you two, and I'm all for it, gorgeous," she finally murmured, her voice filled with sincerity and affection.

The three women grinned at each other, a newfound sense of connection blossoming between them.

Their tender moment was interrupted by Kelley's booming voice echoing across the field. "ASH! ALI! We need to take pictures!"

Reluctantly, Ali and Ash broke away from August, their fingers lingering as they exchanged one last smile.

"We gotta go, talk to you later?" Ash asked, her eyes shimmering with excitement as they began to descend from the barrier.

"Of course. Have fun, and I'll call you later, loves," August replied, waving at them with a smile.

As she watched them walk away, August couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude wash over her. She knew that this was just the beginning of something beautiful, and she couldn't wait to see where this newfound connection would take them.

#ali krieger #ashlyn harris #krashlyn #nwst #polyamory #xreader #gxgxg

7 notes · View notes

dweemeister · 1 year ago

Text

Movie Odyssey Retrospective

The Phantom of the Opera (1925)

By the time French journalist-turned-novelist Gaston Leroux published Le Fantôme de l'Opéra as a serial in 1909, he was best known for his detective fiction, deeply influenced by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Edgar Allan Poe. The Phantom of the Opera plays out like a Poe work – teeming with the macabre, painted with one character’s fanatic, violent lust. In serial form and, later, as a novel, Leroux’s work won praise across the West. One of the book’s many fans was Universal Pictures president Carl Laemmle who, on a 1922 trip to Paris, met with Leroux. While on the trip, he read Phantom (a copy gifted to him by Leroux) in a single night, and bought the film rights with a certain actor already in mind.

Laemmle’s first and only choice for the role of the Phantom was about to play Quasimodo in Universal’s 1923 adaptation of Victor Hugo’s The Hunchback of Notre Dame. That actor, Lon Chaney, had subsisted on bit roles and background parts since entering into a contract with Universal in 1912. Chaney, who was about to sign a contract with Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM), became an instant sensation the moment The Hunchback of Notre Dame hit theaters. Audiences and critics in the early 1920s were simultaneously horrified at the sight of his Quasimodo yet, crucially, felt a profound empathy towards the character.

In his prior films, as well as Hunchback, Chaney separated himself from his fellow bit actors with a skill that almost no other actor in Hollywood possessed: he was also a makeup artist. At this time, actors applied their own makeup – often simple cosmetics or unconvincing facial hair. None of the major Hollywood studios had makeup departments in the early 1920s, and it would not be until the 1940s that each studio had such a department. Chaney, the son of two deaf and mute adults, was also a master of physical acting, and could expertly use his hands and arms to empower a scene. Though already bound for MGM, Chaney could not possibly pass up the role of Erik, the Phantom. Despite frequent clashes with director Rupert Julian (1923’s Merry-Go-Round and 1930’s The Cat Creeps; despite being Universal’s most acclaimed director at this time, Julian was either sacked or walked away mid-production), Chaney’s performance alone earned him his place in cinematic history and, for this film, an iconic work of horror cinema and silent film.

As the film begins, we find ourselves at the Palais Garnier, home of the Paris Opera. The Opera’s management has resigned, turning over the Palais Garnier to new ownership. As the ink dries on the contract and as the previous owners depart, they warn about a Phantom of the Opera, who likes sitting in one of the box seats. Soon after, prima donna Carlotta (Virginia Pearson) receives a threatening letter from the Phantom. She must step aside and allow a chorus girl, Christine Daaé (Mary Philbin), sing the lead role in Charles Gounod’s Faust. If she refuses to comply, the Phantom promises something horrific. Aware of the letter, Christine the next day confers with her loved one, the Vicomte Raoul de Chagny (Norman Kerry), that she has been receiving musical guidance from a “Spirit of Music”, whom she has heard through the walls of her dressing room. Raoul laughs this off, but a series of murderous incidents at that evening’s production of Faust is no laughing matter. Christine eventually meets the shadowy musical genius of the Phantom, whose name is Erik (Chaney). In his subterranean lair, he professes his love to her – a love that will never die.

Rupert Julian’s The Phantom of the Opera also stars Arthur Edmund Carewe as the Inspector Ledoux (for fans of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s musical version, this is the Madame Giry character); Gibson Gowland as Simon Buquet; and John St. Polis as Raoul’s brother, the Comte Philippe de Chagny.

Before extoling this film, one has to single out Mary Philbin and Norman Kerry as the glaring underperformers in this adaptation. Philbin would become a much better actress than she displays here, if The Man Who Laughs (1928) is any indication. Yet, Philbin’s Christine is a blank slate, devoid of much personality and interest. It also does not help that Norman Kerry plays Raoul in a similar fashion. Raoul, in any adaptation of Phantom, tends to be a boring role. But goodness me, for a B-actor who was acclaimed for his tall, dark, and handsome looks and screen persona, he is a charisma vacuum here. During Kerry’s more intimate scenes with Philbin, you may notice that Kerry has a case of “roving hands” when he gets close with Philbin. Philbin, who could not visibly react to these moments on-camera, surreptitiously took Kerry’s hands and held them there to stop the touching.

Philbin is much better when sharing the screen opposite Chaney. Chaney and Philbin both could not stand director Rupert Julian – whom both actors, as well almost all of the crew, regarded as an imposing fraud who knew little about making art and more about how to cut costs (Laemmle appointed Julian for this film in part due to Julian’s reputation for delivering work under budget). There are unconfirmed accounts that after Julian’s departure or removal from Phantom, Chaney himself directed the remainder of the shoot aside from the final climactic chase scene (which was the uncredited Edward Sedgwick’s responsibility). In any case, Philbin’s terror when around Chaney was real. The sets of the Phantom’s lair reportedly spooked her – the subterranean waterways, his inner sanctum. Philbin also received no preparation before the filming of what is now one of the signature moments of the silent film era and all of horror cinema. Her reaction to Lon Chaney’s self-applied makeup – meant to appear half-skin, half-skeletal – was the first time that she saw Chaney’s Phantom in all his gruesomeness. Philbin, freed of the innocent, pedestrian dialogue of the film’s opening act, gifts to the camera one hell of a reaction, fully fitting within the bounds of silent film horror.

There are conflicting records on how Chaney achieved the Phantom’s final appearance. The descriptions forthcoming are the elements that freely-available scholarship generally accepts as true. It appears that Chaney utilized a skull cap to raise his forehead’s height, as well as marking deep pencil lines onto that cap to accentuate wrinkles and his brow. He also raised his cheekbones by stuffing cotton into his cheeks, as well as placing a set of stylized, decaying dentures. Inner-nasal wiring altered the angle of his nose, and white highlights across his face contributed to his skeletal look for the cameras. Cinematographer Charles Van Enger (1920's The Last of the Mohicans, uncredited on 1925's The Big Parade) – who, other than Chaney, was one of the most familiar onset with Chaney’s makeup – claimed that the nasal wiring sometimes led to significant bleeding. Taking inspiration from Chaney’s approach to keeping the makeup artistry hidden from Philbin and others, Universal kept the Phantom’s true appearance a secret from the public and press. The studio advised movie theaters to keep smelling salts ready, in case of audience members fainting during the unmasking scene. According to popular reporting at the time, audience members did scream and faint upon the reveal; a nine-year-old Gregory Peck’s first movie memory was being so terrified of Lon Chaney’s Phantom, that he asked to sleep with his grandmother that evening after he came home.

youtube

Lon Chaney’s tremendous performance allows The Phantom of the Opera to soar. Arguably, it is his career pinnacle. Masked or unmasked, Chaney’s Phantom dominates the frame at any moment he is onscreen aside from the film’s final chase sequence. Whether glowering over Christine, majestically gesturing in silhouette, strutting down the Opera House steps during the Bal Masqué, or tucked into the corner of the frame, Chaney’s physical presence draws the audience’s eyes to whatever he is doing. The differences in posture from before and after the unmasking scene are striking – from an elegant specter to a broken, hunched figure (appearing to draw some inspiration from his experience playing Quasimodo two years earlier) seething with pent-up carnality, rage, and sorrow. Chaney’s Phantom garners the audience’s sympathy when he gives Christine the grand tour of his chambers. Look at his posture and hands when he mentions, “That is where I sleep,” and, “If I am the Phantom, it is because man’s hatred has made me so.” That Chaney can ease through these transitions and transformations – as well as a third transformation, as the Red Death during the Bal Masqué – so naturally, without a misstep, is a testament to his acting ability.

Underneath the tortured and twisted visage of a man who has committed horrific acts is a vulnerable and misguided human being. His dreams, dashed and discarded by all others, have turned to despicable means. The role of the Phantom plays brilliantly to Chaney’s genius: to have audiences sympathize with even the most despicable or despondent characters he played. Chaney accomplishes this despite this film characterizing the Phantom with less sympathy than Leroux’s original novel and the popular Andrew Lloyd Webber musical.

This is already on top of Charles Van Enger’s camerawork; the sharp editing from a team including Edward Curtiss (1932’s Scarface) Maurice Pivar (1923’s The Hunchback of Notre Dame), Gilmore Walker (1927’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin), and Lois Weber.

Weber, who in 1916 was Universal’s highest-paid director, underwent numerous financial difficulties over that decade. One of Hollywood’s first true auteurs and largely ignored in the history of film until recently, Weber formed her own production company with Universal’s assistance in 1917, off the success of Shoes (1916). Through World War I, Weber’s movies were popular until around the turn of the decade, when her “didactic” filmmaking (a result of her devout Christian upbringing) went out of style. Most visibly among Weber’s financial failures of the early 1920s, The Blot (1921) – a movie that scholars and Weber himself considered her best – flopped in theaters. After two hiatuses from filmmaking in the early 1920s, Weber was brought in to conduct the final bits of editing on The Phantom of the Opera before returning to directing under Universal.

Though none of the film’s production designers were yet to hit their peak, The Phantom of the Opera benefitted from having a soon-to-be all-star art department including James Basevi (1944’s The Song of Bernadette), Cedric Gibbons (almost any and all MGM movies from 1925 onward), and Robert Florey (1932’s Murders in the Rue Morgue). Inspired by designs sketched by French art director Ben Carré, the production design trio spared no expense to bring Carré’s illustrations to life and used the entirety of Universal’s Soundstage 28 to construct all necessary interior sets. The set’s five tiers of seating and vast foyer needed to support several hundred extras. So unlike the customary wooden supports commonplace during the silent era for gargantuan sets, The Phantom of the Opera’s set for the Palais Garnier became the first film set ever to use steel supports planted into concrete. Basevi, Gibbons, and Florey’s work is glorious, with no special effects to supplement the visuals. The seventeen-minute Bal Masqué scene – which was shot in gorgeous two-strip Technicolor (the earliest form of Technicolor, which emphasized greens and reds) – is the most striking of all, unfurling its gaudy magnificence to heights rarely seen in cinema.

Universal’s Soundstage 28 was an integral part of the VIP tour at Universal Studios Hollywood for decades. Though the orchestra seats and the stage of the film’s Palais Garnier had long gone, the backside box seats of the auditorium remained. Stage 28 featured in numerous films after The Phantom of the Opera, including Dracula (1931), the Lon Chaney biopic Man of a Thousand Faces (1957), Psycho (1960), Charade (1963), Jurassic Park (1993), How the Grinch Stole Christmas (2000), and The Muppets (2011). The soundstage was also supposedly haunted, with individuals claiming to see a caped figure (Lon Chaney as the Phantom?) running around the catwalks, lights flickering on and off, and doors opening and closing on their own. In 2014, after standing for almost ninety years, Universal decided to demolish Stage 28 so as to expand its theme park. However, the historic set escaped the wrecking ball, as Universal decided to disassemble the set, place it into storage, and perhaps someday reassemble it. It is a fate far kinder than almost all other production design relics from the silent era.

Unlike what was coming out of Weimar Germany in the 1920s in the form of German Expressionism, American horror films had no template to follow when The Phantom of the Opera arrived in theaters. There would be no codification of American horror cinema’s tropes and sense of timing until the next decade. But without 1925’s The Phantom of the Opera, Universal would never become the house of horror it did in the 1930s through the early ‘50s (including the Dracula, Frankenstein, Mummy, Invisible Man, Wolf Man, and Creature from the Black Lagoon series). So, unbound by any unwritten guidelines, 1925’s The Phantom of the Opera – a horror film, but arguably also a melodrama with elements of horror – consumes the viewer with its chilling atmosphere and, from Lon Chaney, one of the best cinematic performances ever, without any qualification. For silent film novices, this is one of the best films to begin with (outside the comedies of Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton, and Harold Lloyd). Regardless of one’s familiarity with silent film, The Phantom of the Opera is a cinematic milestone.

My rating: 9.5/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog. Half-points are always rounded down.

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

This is the twenty-third Movie Odyssey Retrospective. Movie Odyssey Retrospectives are reviews on films I had seen in their entirety before this blog’s creation or films I failed to give a full-length write-up to following the blog’s creation. Previous Retrospectives include Dracula (1931 English-language version), Oliver! (1968), and Peter Pan (1953).

8 notes · View notes