#Title is the (loosely translated) name of a new track

[desultory-novice]

“Malus Pumila of Condemnation”

I cheated and drew this during my hiatus... What can I say, I'm a sucker for a good song name.

[mrfancyfoot]

Raphael x Evie (f!OC)

Fic Rating: E/Varied | Chapter 1: AO3 + Tumblr | Master List

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Chapter 13: Excel-exual "Raphael takes a peek into Evie’s precious journal."

< Previous Chapter: Ch. 12 Friendfiction | Next Chapter: Ch. 14 Scarlet >

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❤️ Thank-you for reading!! I adore all of you :3 ❤️

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Ch. Rating: M-ish / NSFW-ish Ch. Word Count: 4.5k Ch. Tags:��POV Raphael; Haarlep; Character Analysis; Schemes; Unreliable Narrator; Raphael Approves

Ch. Warnings: Sexy, sexy spreadsheets; Mentions of Drug Use (medicinal, experimental [Do not try at home, never eat unknown mushrooms!]); Mentions of Alcohol and Dub-Con; Raphael’s Obsessed; Mental Health (Stress, Anxiety, ADHD Allusions, Fixations); Questionable Poetry

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Read under the cut or on AO3-

Loose pages threatened to flutter to the floor as Raphael carefully scanned the open spread of the fox’s journal with a burning curiosity.

It was brimming with notes, drawn maps, charts, musings, strategies, doodles…  Stuffed with found letters and scribbles from her travels.  Torn excerpts from books.  A deep look into the mind of the little fox sleeping away.

Her quill had been dropped between two pages, marking a thought interrupted when she had been summoned.  The Moonrise Towers.  A collection of found information and intelligence.  Their current strategy and goals for what they believed was upcoming.

He flipped to the beginning.

Entries began as daily reports and morphed into pages tracking various quests and wants and goals with reports moved to a set of pages carefully ruled into weekly sections.  Each page diligently numbered.

A pair of hand ruled calendars ticked off the days and tracked events.  Translations of dates, measurements, et cetera, between the Faerûn standard and her own.

She had a small, careful hand hidden by her admitted inexperience with a quill - it shed the shaky, uneven lines, blots, and strikes through the dated entries, gaining a smoothness with the repeated practice.  There was little flourish behind her pen, the writing appearing crisp and utilitarian in later areas.  Impeccable spelling and grammar, an advanced vocabulary - proof of the higher education he suspected despite her casual manner of speech.

The journal had seen better days and ink, dirt, and other unknown substances were smeared and spattered across nearly every page…  Some required peeling apart.  It smelled vaguely of Evie though mostly of a roil of scents from her travels.

A section was dedicated to inventory - the pages divided up into neat columns and rows with name and count meticulously tracked.  Items sorted by type with a wealth of other information noted.  When space ran out, new pages had been glued, bound, and folded onto the end.  Subsequent iterations showed changes over time, indicating what had been deemed important to her to track.  Food stores had their own section similarly formatted.  He recalled that Korrilla had made note in a report that Evie could be frequently seen taking stock of inventory.  Had she performed similar work in her past life?  This level of organisation spoke to experience he had not gathered from conversing with her…

According to her inventory, they held a few rare items of interest.  Perhaps she would be amenable to parting with them following the conclusion of this saga?

Pages here and there torn out.

Pages of recipe and document titles with-

Well, be still his infernal, bloody heart…she used reference and change codes.  From the number of them, she kept many separate, feasibly in some other journal or collection.  Noted page numbers called back to relevant inventories, reports, musings…and information she had compiled about various individuals.  What a trove!

Leading a claw down the document list, his eyes fell on one of interest: the copy of the first Soul-Sworn contract he had offered.  It was found folded at the back of the journal, as indicated, along with a few other documents that he set aside.

He knew she had made changes prior to stating her rejection but had never seen them.  A blue ink was stark against the black used for the copy.  The top right was dated and twice coded for the corresponding document number and change number.  She had struck through the signature lines at the bottom and written ‘REJECTED’ atop them.  Each strike, note, and change was initialed - EV.

He passingly pondered what the ‘V’ represented.  That could not be how she actually spelled her name…could it?  While he doubted, it was not a quirk he could put past the fox.  It was also possible that she lived by her initials.  They had gleaned no information on possible family ties through their efforts to verify her identity.

Thoughts were able to be plucked from all save the little fox.  Music.  All he and his warlock could ever hear was strange music that they had been unable to pierce through.  Some individuals were expected to have mental fortifications to protect against such intrusions, however, there was no reason to believe that Evie, who hailed from a plane where magic is foreign, would have had any such learned protections of that caliber.  An early annoyance he had to work around.  Was it a product of her tadpole?  He knew hers projected that music of her mind to those also infected - a frequent complaint within the group.  Was it attempting to transmit something else?

The more revealed of her, the more evident it became that she was abnormal in more ways than one.  An ever growing, ever morphing puzzle.

It was difficult to believe that this was the same fox who would routinely need to be reminded of the topic of discussion while they spoke if, by the Hells, anything happened to distract her.

Without her presence to distract and cloud his mind, his thoughts revisited her use.  Caging her away, while tempting, would be a waste of her skills.  It would serve well in both the Gate and his court once his takeover of the Hells was put into motion.  True talent that shared his love for order was so difficult to find!

Although…there was little need for one to leave the House for most administrative tasks, and for the ones that necessitated doing so…well, that was the job of a courier.

From this, he had to ask himself how much of the chaos surrounding the fox was of her own doing?  She had eccentricities aplenty, yet how would her group of blighted companions have fared without her reining them in and tracking all of this information?  Would they have lost their way or separated to the winds?  Would another have stepped up?  Perhaps this degree of detail was gratuitous relative to what was needed at the minimum, but she was flourishing in her role as their leader despite her flaws, as he knew she would.  Much was shouldered on this little fox.

He took up his own quill once more to add to the night’s notes, starting with her numerous contract complaints.

Finding the dossiers she kept on individuals, he scanned through them.  Much she had written was already known to him and she kept personal thoughts here to a minimum.  More reference numbers dotted the pages.  Karlach’s had notes about the infernal engine within her.  The Archdruid…the wizard…Lae’zel…Wyll…  To be expected, Astarion’s was more detailed than most.

‘Scars - written in Infernal per A.  Ask R?’

He grinned.  This gave him an edge.  They intended to ask him - for who else could she mean? - about Astarion’s scars.

His satisfaction then turned sour with disappointment and confusion.  The page reserved for himself was entirely blank.

He had almost flipped past it as the page was entitled with a sole ‘R,’ to which she had amusingly added horns.

Unlike others that she saw as outsiders and enemies to her group, there was no physical description.  Nothing to identify him explicitly as a devil.

Korrilla had more written about her.  He suspected the fox had known of his warlock’s presence well before official introductions and learning that she worked for him.  The very few references to him were marked with a simple ‘R’ and kept brief.

She referred to his House of Hope as simply ‘the House.’

Was she withholding writing down information about him?  An interesting notion.

Referring to him not even by full name anywhere - the only such individual treated so vaguely - led him to believe there was a purpose.

Haarlep, however - or ‘Harlep’ as she had spelled it - had been written about at length.  He felt a twinge of bitterness that he was able to read her thoughts on his incubus but not himself.  Her dislike of them was palpable even in ink, breaking the rule of other dossiers that were free of such biases.  Since their first tumultuous encounter, she had not cared to see the fiend again - which Haarlep had taken to moaning about around their attempts to steal glimpses and engage her in salacious conversation.

‘Won’t fucking take no for an answer.’

‘Charm effect with gaze?  Don’t think that affects me?  They’ve implied they have other means of control/coercion, though - avoid being near.  -Not touch -Effect or spell from kiss? (ew)  Maybe venom?’

‘Incubi feed off of sexual energy and probably souls.  Not keen on finding out what would happen if they got their way.  This one has some degree of transformative ability (R) - idk if all do.  They’re sparkly, so glamour?  When they have a form, that person can feel what they do (???).  How do they get the form?’

Spatters of ink dotted the page in what appeared to be areas where she had stabbed at the paper with her quill.  Her feelings towards the incubus stood out to him.  Her frustration was palpable and no other he found had earned animosity.

��Mfker’s relentless.  Now being gross from the pool/boudoir.  Idk how they found out abt hearing.  [forceful scribbles]  Lucky guess?  R told them?  Something I did?  Refuse to give them the satisfaction of a reaction.  No reason to trust anything they say.  Hoping they just get bored and fuck off.  Or drop dead.’

‘Bastard’s lucky they get hot water ._. ’

‘What’s their purpose @ the House?  Not treated or behave like one of the servants & seem to get far more leeway.  Not like K, either?  Def some degree of antagony b/w Hr and R, though.  Contract terms?  Just a really annoying guard?’

Ah…Haarlep had discovered her heightened hearing, taking advantage of it by teasing her from afar with, no doubt, ‘inappropriate comments.’  How naughty.  The fox, however, made no mention of this behavior to him nor had he witnessed any indications of such distractions - yet it bothered her enough to write down. She was prone to distraction, however, so would he have been able to distinguish?  How would she look with lust and obscenities whispered in her ear?

Why not tattle on the incubus and tell him of her discomfort?  She had hesitated earlier in saying that her visits were relaxing - was this why?  Certain precautions had been taken due to that hearing of hers, but it was clear now that he had not gone far enough.  It appeared Haarlep had revealed part of their arrangement.  Perhaps she was simply too embarrassed to risk revealing what she had learned?

Though…there was a thread of envy here that he was sensing.  Was the little fox covetous of what she saw as special treatment afforded to the fiend?  A new light was cast on her resentment of them.  Perhaps in denial over her desires?  Was claiming his chair due rather to feeling…territorial?

Despite her earlier words, she may be more open to his newer thoughts on an arrangement than he was led to believe.

It would seem Haarlep had a use here, after all.

On a whim of inquisitiveness, Raphael flipped back to the page about Astarion.  Nowhere was it mentioned that he was a vampire spawn.  She had not physically described any of her companions.  And now that he was deliberately seeking, he noticed there was obvious information missing throughout many of her entries.  Even Astarion’s links to Cazador, and vice versa, had been muddied through a use of misleading references.  Cunning, little fox.

The journal was a wealth of information, but she had taken care not to reveal certain identities and information.  Feasibly in the event that it fell into another’s hands - such as now.  He understood Astarion, but to include him in such care meant a greater degree of sympathy than he had expected at this juncture.  Or perhaps she did not wish for another to know a devil reserved her time?

The last section of her journal was dedicated to her personal entries.  

Pages filled with doodles and affirmations.  Lines of poetry and song.  Scores of melodies.  Her thoughts and reminders on this and that.  Her voice was more casual here than in the rest of the journal.

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‘I am Evie.

I am the beat of the butterfree’s wings.

I am the dandelion on the wind.

I am the howl of the storm.

I am the erosion of rain.

I am the flower blooming in concrete.

And I am magnificent.’

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As quaint as she.  ‘Magnificent’...a lofty word.  One that spoke of a dazzling pride, unrelenting ambitions, feats of splendor, and realised dreams.  A word that played prettily on his tongue.

The magnificent little fox.

Were you truly, little fox?

He would look forward to her magnificence.

He took notice of her name written here - so the V was a separate initial…

‘Plan A: Yank It Out’

A diagram of an eye, where she believed the tadpole was, and the various detailed steps she would take to remove it.  Her thoughts on this sprawled across a full spread of pages.

‘I think DV is connected more to the slug than they have shared.  I don’t like that they are encouraging its use.  Why?  Protecting me/us from its influence - how?  Something is off about them but I can’t put my finger on what.  An uncanniness.'

An arrow was drawn from the word ‘uncanniness’ to where she had written:  ‘Like the incubus!  Glamour/fake projection?  No sparkle bc dream?  But why?’

‘Why does mine project?  If not for the mash of music, would it be my thoughts?  Still does that force connection thing to other slugs sometimes - thoughts/memories/feelings - though the others have said mine are hazy (?).  Doesn’t seem to do anything else (for the others given powers, I can see why its use is tempting).  O said mine seems weaker than others, though.  Maybe not meant to be constantly broadcasting?  Has it weakened?  Or it came damaged?  Or it just isn’t compatible with my weird brain? lol’

‘DV visiting more often.  They said my slug is weak bc I don’t use it and removing it would kill me (X to doubt).  They don't like that I'm trying to get rid of it.  They don’t like my meetings with R.  They are def reading my thoughts.  G & R couldn’t manage that.  Via slug?  Doesn’t seem to be all the time.  Can’t trust something reading my thoughts.’

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‘I don’t like things in my head,

I said.

I don’t like them red, white, purple, green.

I don’t like them when they come by dream.

I have my music, my radios of thought.

I have a crowd thinking I can be bought.

Power, protection, glory.

Trust me!

‘I can remove it!*’

Trust me.

Trust me.

I miss the quiet,

The safety of my maze.

Instead I’ve a riot,

And can’t focus for days.

It’s enough to scream,

‘Save me, o’ dextroamp-amphetamine!’

*For a fee.’

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How insightful!  Her worries, her fears, and the meandering paths winding towards the truth.  He was quite satisfied to read of her distrust in their dream visitor.  His was the only voice she should be heeding.

She ‘missed the quiet’?  Was this in reference to her music or to another force invading her mind?  Or perhaps merely to a ‘riotous crowd’ of companions demanding so much of her attention that she had none left to focus on anything else?

The last line referred to what read as a chemical compound - an amphetamine stimulant of sorts.  No addictions and perhaps not illicit where she was from - by her words - but what of medicinal use?  Korrilla had reported that the fox drank an ‘alarming’ amount of kaeth, especially for someone who outwardly despised the taste.  Perhaps caffeine was a circumstantial substitution?  Another note to research…

‘Plan B: Wait ‘n See

Why be hasty?  It’s different and there for a reason.  I don’t think ceremorphosis is it.  Or why mutate/modify it?  Unless…Super Illithids!  Not the hero origin story I wanted…  XP’

‘Plan C: Dumb Luck

Maybe it’ll just…resolve on its own.’

Raphael scoffed.  ‘Plan: Accept the Devil’s Bargain’ was nowhere written - except coded within poetry.

What hubris.

Pages of thoughts and diagrams for inventions and innovations.  A list of ‘modern’ amenities she missed so much she would find them or a way to recreate them here.

‘Self-inking pens

Stretchy hair ties

Deodorant

Bug Repellant

Hoodies

~The Internet~

Computer

Digital Archive

Phones

Vibrator

Pizza

Pasta

Ramen

Vanilla Coke

Chocolate

My teeeeeea

Penicillin

Blood Bank

A gun’

She had spoken of her plans for the pen, and it seemed she was already crafting and testing parts.  A ‘communications and archival device’ commanded the most pages.  An advanced technology for which he could see numerous benefits…should she be successful.  She frequently alluded to a device in their talks that he presumed was much like this one.

Ideas for an energy source to power the device.  A battery created from crystals that could be recharged by the user’s energy.  

‘Sounds safer than me trying to 1. find, 2. fuck around w/ nickel, lithium, etc…’

Ideas for computational coding models.

‘Hybridized model - replace mag components where possible’

‘Build in encryption.  Per G, magic comms. signals can be intercepted easily. idk if that applies to radio freqs tho? - test’

She had more than simple passing knowledge of all these components - this was an ability to replicate and create.  An ability, if proven, significantly increased her value.  It did appear that she had an aversion to magic-based components, though no notes provided explanation as to why, and she was, at the very least, consulting the wizard…  Perhaps a simple preference for that which she was most comfortable?  A device for communications that could not be intercepted by magic would be highly sought after.

Her silly idea to go the path of manufacturing goods may deserve more consideration than he had initially allotted…

Innovation created technology, advanced efficiency and order.  In the right hands, technology was power.

His confidence grew, feeling increasingly vindicated in his choice to focus his efforts on her.

The final set of entries continued in a similar vein of oddity - not surprising in the least at this juncture.  An ongoing experiment.

‘Got hit by spores from weird blue mushroom in Underdark.  Made others act odd - energetic, snappy, restless.  Made me sleepy.’

‘Collected several specimen - took precautions.  Likes to grow along the river bank and damp areas.  Seems to stay small and low-growing.  Ventral side has dark violet gills - same color splotches appear on cap after harvested when it loses glow.  H not familiar.  See if O knows more?’

‘O said no known use yet and toxic (but not deadly to their knowledge) for many to eat - stomach issues, headaches, increased aggression, blurred vision, jitters, muscle cramps.  Would that occur with microdosing?  The others did complain of aches and upset for a bit after it wore off before but they were hit by more than I was.  Use for spores vs meat?  Fresh vs dried?  Maybe G will help me test :3’

Detailed pictures of this mushroom and a small map of where she had found them.  A grid where she had begun tracking exposure, amounts taken, side effects, dates...  

A list of observed growth conditions.

So keenly interested in this mushroom - for what cause?  He considered the side effects she observed in herself thus far - drowsy, calm, headache, alert, moody…  What was it that she sought?  There were many notes but no goal stated.

A sleep aid, perhaps?  Did the little fox have trouble sleeping?

Her words before of ‘missing the quiet’ came back to mind.  She did fall deeply asleep here while left alone.  He knew her camp to be rather undisciplined.  Was she unable to block out excessive noise with that hearing of hers?  He recalled in another report that the fox had started constructing her tent further from the others…

The rest of the pages were blank but as he paged back through the journal, a note scrawled on the inside of the cover caught his eye:

‘If you are reading this, you’ve found Evie’s journal.  She acknowledges that she left it somewhere stupid, again.  Please return it.’

A laugh seized him.

A common occurrence, dear fox?

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Raphael didn’t look up as the incubus sauntered in, their nose in the air.  “Your office is beginning to smell of the fox.”  They draped themself over the back of his chair, running a claw down the ornate wood as they eyed his work from over his shoulder.  “Did she visit?  Is that what has you so worked up?  What did she do?  You have not even come to bed!”

He continued to ignore them.

“Ahh~”  Haarlep held up their fingers, pinching several strands of red fur with a grin.  “What evidence!  Now, I truly must know!  Perhaps you had her strip and touch herself here, hm?”  They loudly sniffed at the chair.  “Yet I smell nothing of her arousal,” they added with exaggerated disappointment.

Sliding a finger down his arm, they leaned closer to his ear.  “Or are you to tell me that the little vixen got a free pass to seat herself upon your chair?  She certainly made herself at home with all this fur left behind.  Or perhaps you disciplined her?  Laid her over your knee and-”

“Must you disturb me?” Raphael sneered, in no mood for their antics.  Exhaustion was closing in on him and yet he had work to complete before succumbing to its call.

They flicked away the fur and began unbuttoning his doublet.  “Must you torture me so by getting all hot and bothered and doing nothing about it?  From what I felt, she must have practically pranced around you naked!”  He shook off their wandering hands.  They gasped, “Was she naked when you summoned her?  Caught at an inopportune time?  Or may it have been…with purpose?  Is she a little seductress, after all?  Simply begging for you to take her!”

He knew it would be worse to admit that the fox had truly done nothing save place her trust in him with her vulnerability.  And he was not about to tell the incubus that she was tucked away in the House asleep.

“Just a few minutes with me and I’ll have her mewling like a kitten.  You desire her, don’t you?”  Not giving them the response they wanted, they unlatched themself from the back of his chair and rounded the desk to throw themself into the chair opposite.  “I do not understand this game you insist on playing with this one,” they whined.  “Why not just take her?  She has listened to an absurd amount of your prattling on about the history of Cormyr and Calimshan without falling asleep or begging you to stop to find it disagreeable.  I’ve seen that fluffy tail wag quite often - that means she is happy in your presence!  Flirty, even!” they pointed out as though he was unaware.

“The game is patience, Haarlep!  She is on a path towards completing the goals ahead of her.  That is the priority.  Should the opportunity for a contract present itself once more, I shall most eagerly take advantage,” he emphasized, pausing in the middle of his writing.  “Barring that, before the dust has settled after this saga, the curtain shall rise for the next.  Rest assured, the fox will be mine.”

They hopped to their feet and flung themself forward to rest their head on their elbows atop his desk, grinning ear to ear.  “Does this mean you are getting me a playmate?  You wouldn’t be going through all this effort if you intended her as just any silly little toy to break in and toss aside once you are satisfied with their image alone.”

Haarlep needn’t know that he had no intention of allowing them to have her in the way they most wanted.  “Toys have significantly less use once broken.  With the proper care taken, the fox will be tamed and under my control.  She would make a far less entertaining pet without that tongue and brain of hers.”  

“Mm…  She said she liked your poetry, did she?” Haarlep teased.  “So disrespectful, though…  But I can help tame her!  How about starting with how one must always respectfully greet their betters?  And no pets on the furniture unless commanded?  Though she can sleep with me, of course, and I can ensure that she is always-”

“Cease your attempts to interfere.  Or has Mephistopheles instructed you to sabotage this, as well?” Raphael hissed in accusation, cutting off their spiral into fantasy.  He would not put it past his father to order his spy to get in the way of something else he desired.  

With a smirk, they gave a half-hearted shrug as they flicked away dirt from under their claws.  “It's not like he would care.  After all, what's more distracting than a brand new pet to break in?”  They fell against the desk dramatically as they continued whining, “I just want to play~  Such a stubborn little foxy.  She does remind me of-”

“Hold your tongue,” he demanded.

They chuckled and looked up at him.  “Oh, Master, it has been weeks since you’ve so much as mentioned the birdie in the dungeons.  All I hear now is how the fox has done this and done that and said~  Are you so afraid that she, too, may reje-”

“Should the stubborn little fox inform me that you continue to be a nuisance, I shall honor any desire of hers to have nothing to do with you,” he threatened.  He may be unable to do away with the incubus at present, but he could certainly withhold something they saw as desirable.  And the protection from or threat of Haarlep would be quite the carrot and stick for the fox should any behavioral adjustments be needed.

They jerked up with a pout.  “Then she would hardly be a playmate!”

“Then I suggest, Haarlep, that you be on your best behavior.”

“Properly seduce her and she’ll sign anything - they always do!” they attempted to argue.  Haarlep lacked the nuance and patience for long term plans, preferring to opt for whatever was most convenient to them regardless of the end result being less than optimal as long as it was good enough.  But he strove for nothing short of perfection!  “She strikes me as a ‘cutesy romantic dinner’ kind of woman.  Go take her to one of those plays first and then a walk beneath the stars!  Sit close and whisper sweet nothings as you feed her delicacies.  Ply her with a bit of wine and she’ll be all blushy and giggly when you whisk her away to our bed!”

“Yes, a fine date…,” he drawled, “for after her current work is complete.”

“But that’s taking so looong!”  He smacked away their claw shredding the corner of his paperwork.  “Tell her to hurry up!  I think we would both much rather a cute, little, fluffy foxy than a slimy squid.  Although…I have never been with that tentacled sort…”

The very notion filled him with disgust.  He was not about to arm Haarlep with such a body in their repertoire.  “Of that, we are in agreement.  Now, away with you!  I have work to complete.”

“Mm, what tedium.  There is forever work to complete,” they sighed as they turned and slipped from the room.

❤️ Thank-you for reading!! Please consider liking & reblogging.❤️

< Previous Chapter: Ch. 12 Friendfiction | Next Chapter: Ch. 14 Scarlet >

Coming up next: Evie has an interesting dream

[7grandmel]

Todays rip: 15/07/2023

*** EVERYTHING IS FINE ***

Season 7 Featured on: SGFR Presents: Shovelware from Beyond the Deep!

Ripped by MtH, Moder112

Seven years removed from it, there's an undeniable magic to the first Season of SiIvaGunner. Setting nostalgia aside, I think the best way to describe Season 1 in particular would be...chaotic? It was a time before the channel had much of any quality standard, where any little idea could be tried just for the hell of it, and where a lot of rippers pursued individual passion projects disconnected from the main direction of the channel. I've covered one of those on this blog already - Collision Chaos Good Future JP [CD Beta Mix] - but today, we're taking a look at the legacy of a certain Barbie game's music on the channel.

Late in Season 1, during the channel's normal procedures, a peculiar figure named Mr Rental began showing up in rips of his own made-up game. Dissecting that entire storyline isn't really relevant for where we're going today: All that needs to be established is that the Mr. Rental rips were effectively ms-paint cartoon episodes about the titular character's absurd and often violent tendencies. In one episode in particular, Mr. Rental declared a mission statement to "ban all mashups", and thus began to show up suddenly in otherwise innocuous rips. What this translated to in-universe was Mr Rental being a full-on serial killer.

Which transitions us to the Season 1 rip, Intro Title / Minigame Theme - Barbie Horse Adventures: Blue Ribbon Race, a rip with barely any music, and no album release. In truth, its not really trying to be a rip, once again playing to the chaotic nature of the Season I described before. The Barbie game in question is infamous for its title screen music being strangely eerie for the type of game its in, which this rip runs with - it plays the music to unsettlingly uneven camera footage of a CRT with the game's boxart, which slowly distorts Barbie's face before smash-cutting to a US Emergency Alert screen. In the midst of the channel's normal upload schedule, viewers got to see full-on analogue horror, as the majority of the video uses the Emergency Alert to inform viewers of a serial killer running loose in the SiIvaGunner universe - Mr Rental. As the rip ends, the words "EVERYTHING IS FINE" ominously flash before some ARG clues flash.

The storyline would eventually end, and this rip in particular never quite amounted to much in the end beyond scaring the shit out of unsuspecting fans. Yet those fans - like myself - were never able to forget it. It would appear that the team didn't forget, either: In both Season 3 and Season 4 Episode 1, the original rip would be referenced with remixes of the actual song, and now finally in Season 7 we have todays rip. As part of SiIvaGunner Fusion Records, *** EVERYTHING IS FINE *** is an extremely high-level, genuine quality arrangement of the original song, finally leaning headfirst into the full on horror sound of it with utmost sincerity. Several more layers are added to the track as it goes on to give it a sense of escalation, and at parts it feels as if its transitioning into a fully new piece with the lead melody. The original track's short nature was used as a baseline to craft something even darker, even moodier...and best of all, its able to play on that Season 1 nostalgia to heighten those emotions althemore.

For as much content is put out on SiIvaGunner over the years, it never feels like any piece of it is forgotten. A rip like Intro Title / Minigame Theme - Barbie Horse Adventures: Blue Ribbon Race, despite its original storyarc having ended and sitting below 50K views, keeps getting these loving nudges, reminding us of just how long its been.

[fourseasonsfigs]

Tianshu Beichen - Dog's Blood Drama

It always happens - I plan out the order for the next week of fig posts, and then I get a new shipment in and boom, some vault to the front of the line! Like, well, this set.

I don't think it's any secret that the bloody battle-damaged versions of figs are some of my favorites. I'm not sure why, but I can tell you my eventual diorama of all of these various princes and warlords duking it out around a castle is gonna be epic.

I did not buy this set when it was released, but only because I couldn't. The fig maker limited it to buyers who had bought at least 6 figs from their shop, and furthermore limited the total quantity sold to 500. This was at a time when I had just managed to figure out how to able to purchase direct from Weidian, and was still busy figuring out how to best navigate the app, who the sellers were, and how to keep track of them all. At the time I wasn't even aware that fig maker had made more than 6 figs (actually, I'm still not sure I know what the rest of their figs are - I only have 3 of theirs before these). I would certainly have bought them, if so! But in any case, there was no way. I resigned myself to waiting until they were produced and them buying them on the fig black market Xianyu.

And so I did! Had to pay up for them, of course, commerce being what it is, but with the limited quantity available I was happy to at least find someone who would sell them. There weren't a ton of them for sale.

The inspiration for these figs comes from Zhang Zhehan's character Long Feiye from The Legend of Yunxi, and Prince Han Ye from Gong Jun's upcoming Legend of Anle. The name of this CP ship is 烨夜笙歌, Yè Yè Shēnggē.

The exact inspiration for the Long Feiye fig is this scene in Episode 5 (warning, lots of blood and battlefield violence):

As soon as his helmet got knocked off in the show, I was like, oh damn, that's bad, that's real bad. That being said, the shots of him with his long loose black hair and all bloodily distraught are, I can't lie, some of my all-time favorite. He's so beautiful and tragic!

No one can wear long hair like Zhehan. Can you imagine if he had hair like that and just walked around with it? Empires would crumble.

Note, I actually did not realize until this very moment (despite re-watching this scene numerous times in the show and an uh, undisclosed number of times in my post just now) that his armor blew off in the gu-qi-explosion. I was wondering what happened to his beautiful ornate armor on the fig - I had just figured it was too much to render into fig form, but now I see. It's really not there, post-explosion. He just has his vambraces and his beautiful red and black under robes. Alright! It's always satisfying to learn something new.

I'm still slowly working my way through Yunxi - deeply hampered by my inability to care much about the main plotline - but I have to keep going, if only to get to this scene where this picture comes from:

Aww yeah. Red eyeliner and everything. I can't wait.

The only picture I have of a blind Han Ye is this blurry one:

But that's good enough to be going on with for fig purposes, as you'll see!

Oh, the title of this fig set. The fig maker has a long and quite lovely, even in MTL, description of why this set is named Tianshu Beichen (translation courtesy, like all my translations, Google Translate):

天枢为贪狼星，第一桃花星，机智聪慧，吉星。 本次展览出自成语北辰星宫，北极星高悬不动，四面环星。 ���喻为政有德，受人爱戴的人 Tianshu is the greedy wolf star, the first peach blossom star, witty and intelligent, and auspicious star. This exhibition comes from the idiom Beichen Xinggong, the Polaris hangs high and does not move, and the stars are surrounded on all sides. An ancient metaphor for a person who conducts a virtuous government and is loved by others.

In the original posting, the fig maker also referenced the fig set as "Dog's Blood Drama", which from what I understand refers to highly (over)dramatic dramas. This is indeed an extremely striking and dramatic set, I must say!

I guess the silver lining of paying through the nose for them was that I absolutely did not neglect to air wrap these for extra protection. Thankfully, these two arrived safe and sound.

There must be something wrong with me, because I am delighted at how cute this Long Feiye is! Poor guy is just having a bad day. Ahaha, look at his crackly eyeballs! Oh I love him.

These two battle-damaged cuties are not able to stand up well. I had to prop them up on a curved angle, and then against each other to get them to pose (barely) for the header picture, and then they immediately went on stands.

The blindfold over Han Ye's eyes is PVC, and very nicely done. I like how you can see his eyes through it still. Long Feiye, you're still so cute! So resolute, and very noble looking despite the whole uh, gu-infestation thing going on.

The gu-infection in the Legend of Yunxi doesn't seem to be quite like the gu-parasites I studied in school. In Chinese medicine a gu is an exceptionally poisonous insect / worm created by a dark and twisted process. It was believed if you took an large quantity of the various kinds of highly poisonous creatures (centipedes, scorpions, etc, if my memory serves I want to say it was 5 classic types) and put them all in a closed system like a jar, they would all eventually attack and devour each other. The insect that ended up alive at the end of this nasty little cage match, the "king", was of course the most powerful one of all, and to make things worse, was believed to have absorbed all the toxins of all the other poisonous creatures it had eaten. As a result, all that poison from all those very poisonous creatures was effectively distilled down and concentrated inside of this one little insect / worm thing, rendering it a subtle, potent, and viciously nasty way to destroy a person. That being said, I learned a much more boring version than what shows up in Legend of Yunxi, which takes this concept and makes it much more dramatic!

Han Ye either just stopped his forward progress, or there's some wind whipping through the area, because his beautiful long hair and the tails of his blindfold are flying out behind him. Maybe he's just blown away by the spectacular presence emanating from the warrior prince in front of him. Did you see the video? That was one wild qi explosion!

That really is some great motion in his hair. And some decent blood splatter going on in all that mane of white hair, my goodness.

Wait, you might be saying, aren't you the person that was scared of decapitated fig bodies and scattered limbs? Why are you totally down for fig blood splatter? Well, first, let me just say I'm not scared, per se. I just really don't care for it, ok? And second, yeah it's true that if Long Feiye had his charmingly funny crackle-eyed, black-poison-lined head removed from his fig body, it would suddenly become a horrible zombie nightmare. But it's firmly on top of his slender and elegant neck, and he's stately and magnificently putting up with a terrible curse. And you know, destroying hundreds of his enemies in a very dramatic and spear-twirly, explody way. It's all good!

Hmm, not sure why Han Ye is leaning off to the side here. Oh yeah, the poor angle of my photography. May I just say though that his hair looks amazing, I really like the effect of the blindfold here with his hair. So nice.

Like the inspiration picture, Han Ye's hand is resting behind his back in the classic Wen Kexing elegant young master pose. Goodness sakes, he looks like he's about to fall over from this angle! What the heck.

Ah ok, this angle is better to see that he's not really leaning forward all that much, just a little bit as he's reaching his hand out. Meanwhile, Long Feiye is standing tall and elegant with Zhehan's perfect posture. This is a great angle to see the pattern on his vambraces too. Oh, I just noticed you can see the channel where the blindfold goes through Han Ye's bigger side bangs there (I was squinting at the picture to see that yes, he has chonkier bangs on one side, and kind of a small wispy piece on the other). It's well done, it blends in very cleanly.

This is an exceptionally good angle for both their costumes, and to see the height difference. Aww, their little frowny mouths. Well, they have good reason to be a little perturbed, I'd say. This IS a dog's blood drama, there's a lot going on here.

Ooh, now get ready for something special...

They can hold hands! Pure romance, folks! I love this a completely unreasonable amount. Prince Han Ye doesn't have to worry about a thing with the noble Prince Qin there to take his hand.

Well, assuming there's a little bit of platform so Long Feiye can be tall enough to reach his hand. The very real height difference between them, unfortunately, translates into their hands reaching out but not quite touching, and NO THANKS, I'm not looking for any angst here (she says to the injured and battle-beaten dog's blood drama figs). Speaking of which, can I just say, I did not like how they cut the catching light scene in Word of Honor so that their hands didn't touch, especially since we know from the BTS that they held hands for a good long time. I mean yeah, it probably got cut to clear review, but it still doesn't mean I can't grumble grumble about it until the end of time.

Unfortunately, I don't like the look of one fig on a stand and one off a stand, plus all my figs are on stands, so I can't have Han Ye left out. So, I have a few very thin standees that I got randomly in some fig bundles that I'll put Han Ye on, and I'm going to order a thicker fig standee for Long Feiye, and then they will hold hands to their heart's content. Love will NOT be stopped!

Definitely had to do both sides of this fig, it's so unique.

Ah, here's where you can see what I was talking about with his boots, how they are angled up at the toes. This wouldn't cause a lean though. It really IS just my bad photography (and the angles)!

What great figs, I love these so much. I'm sure you couldn't tell at all.

Which doesn't mean I am done gushing over how cute Long Feiye is! I'm just so charmed by him for some unreasonable reason. I'll just comment one more time about how big (crackly!) eyed and expressive his little face is on the box cards / box art. He's getting pride of place on my diorama, I'm telling you that. At the very top of the castle!

Material: Resin and some nasty gu parasites

Fig Count: 340

Scene Count: 24

Rating: You're cute too, Han Ye!

[link back to Master Fig Index for more posts]

[mysterioushogwartsrequests]

Hey i wanted to ask if you could write a reader x fred fic where they learn about the mirror of erised in class and then the reader has to step in front of it to say what they see and they say smth like "fred could you step aside" or "could you get out of the frame, you are in the way" and it turns out he wasn't even close to being in the mirrors view and so they just announced that their deepest desire is fred, ik it's very specific but please🥺❤

I’ve actually been thinking about writing something like this so I am very glad you sent this in!!! And, honestly, really specific requests are always welcome because I know exactly what you all want! I love any request you send my way :).

Title: The Desired Slip-Up

                                         ϟ ϟ ϟ

Fred and George’s Sixth Year at Hogwarts had already started off with a bang. The announcement of the Tri-Wizard Tournament had everyone in high spirits, and they all waited impatiently for the Winter holiday celebrations. Sure, they were dealing with an unpleasant scammer by the name of Ludo Bagman, but the Twins were certain they would get their way eventually.  

Like any other year, Fred continued his usual school-yard scheming with his brother, occasionally stopping to view the petrifying tasks of the Tri-Wizard Tournament where Harry Potter managed to avoid the clutches of an irritated Hungarian Horntail. Despite having excellent marks, the Twins often found themselves bored with the courses at Hogwarts and were often discussing ways to avoid attending them. However, the possibility of their mother finding out about their misbehavior urged Fred and George, despite their grievances, to attend their classes.

Professor Moody currently held the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and often introduced unorthodox items in his teachings. Well, what could really be considered unorthodox at a school for Magic?

On a particularly cold Novembers’ day, Fred sauntered into the classroom, tailed by his brother, and at once caught sight of the ornate mirror at the front of the room. The students were gathered around each other’s desks, exchanging whispers as to what the mirror could do. Waiting for his students to settle, Professor Moody rapped his fingers against his desk, his blue eye ardently scanning the room as two more girls trailed in.  

Fred and George took their usual seats at the center, roughly setting down his belongings behind Angelina Johnson, who turned to face the noise with a hint of annoyance.  

“Making sure everyone hears you arrive?” She asked teasingly, swinging her legs over the empty space beside her.  

“You know us, Angelina-” replied George with a thumbs up  

“Always putting on a show” finished Fred, shooting his friend a wink before acknowledging the empty seat, “And (Y/N)?” asked Fred, earning a shrug from Angelina. However, before Fred could ask anything else, Mad-Eye Moody rose from his seat and tapped the edge of the mirror with his wand, effectively silencing the class.  

“Now, I’ve prepared a very special lesson for you lot and I expect your undivided attention” Moody declared, his good eye trained on Fred Weasley, who was doodling product designs on a spare bit of parchment. George, noticing Mad-Eye’s intense stare, jabbed Fred’s side and gestured for him to look forward.  

Begrudgingly setting his quill down, Fred rested his cheek against his palm as Mad-Eye cleared the first row of desks nearest to the mirror. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested in Mad-Eye’s teachings, Fred just found it rather difficult to concentrate when he was plagued by thoughts of (Y/N)’s absence. Although (Y/N) (L/N) was quite the prankster herself, she was not one to miss classes, especially if the Professor was known for dealing out harsh punishments if he caught you.  

“I want a nice, clean line facing the mirror” Mad-eye announced, gesturing towards the empty space he had cleared, “This isn’t your ordinary, everyday mirror so don’t let me catch you fixing your hair and makeup in front of it” He warned, eyeing the group of giggling girls lining up beside him. With a sigh, Fred pushed himself off his seat and followed George and Angelina towards the front of the class, gaze trained out the window as he wondered what it would feel like to fly through the cold-wind at this very moment.  

Paying no attention to the lesson, Fred narrowed his eyes at the shape whizzing meters from the window. “Is that a person? Flying towards the castle?” he thought, subtly inching towards the glass to get a better glimpse of the robed figure, but they had already vanished. Scratching his head, Fred directed his attention towards Mad-Eye Moody, who was pointing at the calligraphy above the mirror which read:  

“Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi” or “I show not your face, but your heart’s desire” as Mad-Eye translated.

“When you look into this mirror,” Mad-Eye began, stepping in front of the line so the students could only see his reflection, “You will see what your heart most desperately desires, but be careful” He added with a wicked grin, his eyes trained on his reflection, “Some of you may go mad if you stare for too long…”  

Fred eyed Moody suspiciously, it seemed like he himself was transfixed with what he currently viewed in the mirror, only stepping away after giving his head vigorous shake. Bearing the same wicked smile, Professor Moody gestured towards the mirror, “Any volunteers?” he asked nonchalantly, but the prospect of going mad spooked the usual eagerness to participate out of his students. The Sixth years looked around at each other, trying to see who would be brave enough to face the Mirror of Erised.  

At that moment, the door to the classroom slammed open and the sound of running footsteps filled the room. Gasping for air, (Y/N) (L/N) looked up at Professor Moody with disheveled robes and a broomstick gripped in her right hand, her satchel hanging loosely over her shoulder as she set her broom against the wall.  

“Professor, I am so sorry. I lost track of time while at the Quidditch Pitch and—” but Professor Moody cut off her rambling excuses with a swift raise of his hand.  

“As a result of your tardiness,” Moody growled, his good eye trained on (Y/N) as the other whizzed from her broom and back to her, “And flying around the grounds without permission” he added and (Y/N) bowed her head in shame, setting her satchel down beside Angelina’s before walking towards the front of the classroom.  

“You will be the first to demonstrate the effects of the Mirror of Erised,” Moody finished, his eyes glinting with anticipation as he urged her in front of the mirror, “I’ve already explained what the mirror does, but unfortunately, you were late so you will find out on your own” he explained, looking back at the group of students behind him, “And none of you runts will tell her, got it?”As he snapped, a couple of frightened Ravenclaw girls nodded intensely causing Fred to roll his eyes for the third time in the hour.  

Feeling increasingly nervous, (Y/N) looked towards Angelina with a sheepish smile, then towards the Weasley Twins. George shot her encouraging thumbs-up, but Fred only grinned at her, urging her forwards while mouthing, “This is your punishment.” She and Fred had not always been great friends, she actually despised him during their second year when a balloon full of ink fell on top of her head, spilling its contents all over her new robes. Despite being increasingly furious that day, (Y/N) found herself laughing at the prank after Professor Flitwick removed the stains of her clothes and Professor McGonagall scolded the Twins in the middle of the Courtyard. After seeing the embarrassed looks on their faces, (Y/N) went up to them and declared the beginning of a prank-war, therefore igniting the first flames of the friendship.  

At the end of their second year, (Y/N) was crowned Prank Champion, complete with a parchment crown and colorful ribbon Lee Jordan had prepared for the winner. The summer after that, the Twins invited (Y/N) over to The Burrow where they spent the hot months of July playing Quidditch in a clearing and enjoying Mrs. Weasley’s delightful cooking. It was not until the 1994 Quidditch World Cup that (Y/N) realized her feelings towards Fred were more than friendship. She often recalled the late-night talks they would share in the Astronomy Tower, neglecting the homework they promised they would do that evening. But she really couldn’t help it, Fred was so easy-going that it was no arduous task to get lost in conversation with him. Now, they were in their Sixth year and she had collected an assortment of sweaters gifted to her by Molly Weasley, as well as many joke-shop prototypes from Fred and George.  

With the announcement of the Yule Ball, (Y/N) immediately imagined herself in a beautiful gown, circling a ballroom with Fred Weasley at her side. As she stepped up to the mirror, she took a deep breath with her eyes closed, the image of Fred’s infectious smile fresh in her memory as she opened her eyes. 

Well, it was not difficult for her to imagine Fred’s wide grin because it was staring right back at her, standing beside her with a singular rose extended towards her. Blinking rapidly, (Y/N) leered at the mirror, stepping towards it with her eyebrows furrowed, frustrated by Fred’s overconfident grin shooting towards her.

As the minutes passed, her annoyance only grew. Not only did she not know what the mirror was supposed to show, but she also had Fred’s playful gaze trained onto her. With a large huff, (Y/N) crossed her arms over her chest and moved towards the right, trying to cover Fred’s presence in the mirror.  

“Something the matter?” coughed Mad-Eye, whipping the droplets of his drink away from his face and stuffing his flask into his robe pocket, “Tell us what you see.”  

Without taking her eyes off the mirror, (Y/N) clicked her tongue in frustration, “I really can’t see anything with Fred in the way,” she admitted, “Can you get out the way? You’ve been grinning at me like a mad man”  

Fred registered George’s snort of laughter beside him, his ears flushing red as he replayed (Y/N)’s words in his head, “(Y/N), sweetheart” he spoke up, raising his hand up in the air to show how far back in the line he was, “I’m over here, love. How could I possibly be blocking your view?” teased Fred, stepping out of the line as (Y/N) whipped around to face him. 

With her mouth agape, she locked eyes with Fred and realization dawned on her, it was impossible, Fred was too far away, and he was the only one the mirror was reflecting... She should’ve at least seen the rest of the class or even Mad-Eye!  

Turning back towards the mirror, (Y/N) noticed Fred’s smiling face again, but also noticed the green dress robes he was wearing and how she was wearing the most magnificent purple gown she had ever laid eyes on, “I don’t understand” (Y/N) uttered out, turning her head towards Mad-Eye, “I- only see Fred and I… going to the Yule Ball together…” she admitted, lowering her voice as she did so.  

“Well, Mrs. (L/N),” Moody began, “The Mirror of Erised shows your heart’s most desperate desire and it seems yours is to be Mr. Weasley’s date,” he said matter-of-factly. (Y/N) blushed furiously at his words, her eyes darting towards the real Fred, who bore the same smile as his reflection. She could verbalize the relief that washed over her when the bell, signaling the end of class, rang and immediately taking the opportunity to bolt out of the classroom, leaving her broomstick in her wake. The rest of the students exchanged whispers as Fred and George exited the classroom, making jokes about what they thought they would see in the mirror.  

“Would you like some alone time?” asked George mischievously, handing Fred (Y/N)’s forgotten broom, “I’m sure there’s plenty the two of you should talk about” George then waved his brother off and ran down the corridor to join Angelina.

Fred looked down at the broomstick in his hand, his thumb trailing over the initials she had carved into the wood. A small smile appeared on his face as he caught sight of his own initials in her broomstick, the ones he had carved during the summer after (Y/N) lost the bet at the World Cup. With a newfound sense of courage, Fred strode down the corridor in search of (Y/N), determined to find her before she could hide in her common room.  

                                        ϟ ϟ ϟ

(Y/N) halted once she reached the Training Grounds, her hands placed over her knees as she took deep breaths, the crisp, frigid air filling her lungs, “Way to go!” she exclaimed angrily, stomping her heel against the ground out of pure embarrassment. Sinking down onto the snow, (Y/N) covered her face with her hands as she racked her brain for any sort of excuse she could give to Fred, but ultimately came up empty.  

“You know,” called a familiar voice behind her, “If you wanted to go to the ball with me, all you had to do was ask…” stated Fred, stepping towards her curled up frame. Jumping at Fred’s words, (Y/N) pushed herself off the ground, wiping the snow off her robes before pointing a finger towards her crush.   “Listen here, Fred” she stated defensively, “I-I have a perfectly clear explanation for this…” (Y/N) tried to explain, her voice wavering as he stepped closer to her, the scent of his cologne mixing with the chilly air, effectively weakening her resolve.  

“I’m all ears, love” He added, a playful smirk playing at his lips as he stuck out her broomstick, “You forgot this on your way out, it’s nice to see my initials are still there” Fred winked, letting his hand rest above hers as she attempted to retrieve her broom.  

“W-Well, I did lose the bet after all” muttered (Y/N), the blush returning to her cheeks as their fingers brushed together.  

“And I’m sure you’ll lose this one too” added Fred casually and (Y/N) raised an eyebrow at him, “What do you mean by that?” she asked cautiously as he laughed.  

“Well, I bet that you want to go to the ball with little old me, but you’re too afraid to ask” Fred stated confidently, smiling at the look of shock on (Y/N)’s face. He was not surprised by her reaction, not at all, it was what he had expected to see, to him, she was so easy to read. Fred understood what it meant when she scrunched up her nose during their late-night study sessions, how her leg would bounce underneath the desk when she was itching to go play Quidditch or the cute frown she bore when something did not go her way. It was not difficult to understand that this expression of shock meant he had been right on the mark.  

“Am I wrong?” He asked, his hand snaking around her waist, pulling her closer to his taller frame. Closing her mouth, (Y/N) looked down at their closeness and then up at Fred, “You’re not.” she admitted, swallowing her pride for once in her life.  

“Then, allow me,” whispered Fred, stepping back, and pulling out his wand before uttering the word, “Orchideous.” At that moment, a large bouquet of roses popped out of the tip of his wand, which Fred then took and dramatically brought himself down to one knee.  

Clearing his throat, he raised the flowers up and said, “(Y/N) (L/N), would you do me the utmost honor of accompanying me, Frederic Weasley, to the Yule Ball?” he asked, his grin growing wider than she ever thought possible.  

She would be lying if she said she had not imagined this moment playing out in her head, but never thought about it actually happening. However, there was no denying that the real thing felt better than her usual daydreams...  

With her heart beating against her rib cage, (Y/N) delicately wrapped her fingers around the bouquet and brought them up to her nose, the intoxicating smell of roses easing her nerves, “I would be delighted to accompany you to the ball, Mr. Weasley” she replied with a grin, slipping her hand into his extended one as he stood up.  

“Brilliant,” He whispered, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, “But you know, you did lose a bet…” Fred muttered, his thumb trailing over her cheek as a faint tinge of red appeared over them once again.  

“Yes, that is true,” (Y/N) admitted with a nod of the head, “I suppose there is something you want me to do?”  

“I wouldn’t say that,” added Fred, stepping closer to her, and placing his other hand on her cheek, “I think the winner deserves something sweet” He stated huskily, his face dipping closer to hers, “Don’t you agree?”  

(Y/N) nodded, their proximity sucking the air out of her lungs and her blush darkening as their lips brushed against each other, “I do, why don’t you show me then?” she asked teasingly, a smile appearing on her lips as the smirk on Fred’s face grew.  

“Alrighty, then” With that, Fred closed the distance between them, one hand cupping her face as the other pulled her towards him by the waist. This, too, was better than anything Fred could’ve daydreamed, and he wondered why it had taken him so long to finally kiss her. He recalled the many occasions he could have kissed her, but never committed to it, afraid she might turn him down to preserve their friendship. But after the altercation in Mad-Eye Moody’s class, he knew there was nothing left to lose.

Fred Weasley had always loved (Y/N) (L/N), but it took a magic mirror for him to realize that… Not that he was complaining, better late than never.  

Pulling away from their first kiss, Fred tapped his finger against his chin, “You know, I don’t think just one was enough” he admitted, sliding his arm behind (Y/N)’s knees and scooping her up into his grip, “Wouldst the fair lady grant me one more?” He asked, wagging his eyebrows at her, making her burst out laughing.  

“As many as you want, My Lord,” giggled (Y/N), placing her hands on his cheeks and pulling him in for another passionate kiss.  

As the snow began to fall around them, Fred carried (Y/N) out of the training grounds, both bursting with excitement for the upcoming Yule Ball and the new memories they would make together.  

[feliix]

Beck & Call ✦ MYG (18+)

✦  Pairing: Yoongi x Reader ✦ Word count: 1.4k ✦  Rating: M  

✦  Genre: smut, crack, a tad bit of fluff, FWB!au

✦  Summary: All hell breaks loose when your brother calls you while you’re in the middle of hooking up with his best friend

✦  Warnings: PWP, explicit smut, creampie, phone sex (but not the kind you’re thinking of), Yoongi has a big dick

✦  Requested by my bby @hobiance​ ‘requesting one yoongi + vodka pls’

✦ A/N: Thank you to the lovely @namjoonsdove​ for helping me come up with the title and @jintobean​ and @hobiance for helping me figure out the banner for this sucker ily all ♡

✦ Written for the BHQ Drinks and Drabbles game hosted by @bangtan-dreamland​

“Fuck,” you moan as Yoongi drives his hips into your ass, “right there.”

Hooking up with your older brother’s best friend was never in the cards, well, not until you actually started hooking up that is. Yoongi was a good fuck, nothing more. Relationships weren’t exactly your thing, and even if they were there was no way in hell Jin would ever approve.

Yoongi’s large hands grip your hips as he thrusts into you from behind, his length reaching deep inside you from the angle he was holding your body. You hadn’t been at it for very long, but sex with Yoongi was always a relay rather than a marathon. Several quick and variating rounds just worked so much better than one long one. That way it was easier to take the emotions out of things, just scratch the itch (or many itches), and go your separate ways.

You’re pushed forward with one noticeably harder rut, your face meeting the mattress as the force from Yoongi’s thrusts deepens. A string of curses leaves his lips as his tip swipes past your cervix, the size of his length reaching new crevices each time he’s inside of you.

“So close,” you moan as your eyes clamp shut, focused on reaching your sweet release. To your demise, your focus is soon cut short. A bright light illuminates the room from his bedside table, quick and rapid vibrations following soon after.

Yoongi’s head cocks up immediately as he focuses on the name of the screen, his eyes widening a bit when he sees the caller ID, “Its Jin.”

“I’m not answering that,” you pant as his pace begins to pick up in speed, your breath soon leaving your chest.

“If you don’t he’s just gonna call again,” Yoongi grunts between thrusts, not slowing his movements one bit. Answering the phone was a bad idea, but bad ideas were kind of Yoongi’s niche, or else you wouldn’t be in his bed right now.

Without pulling out he reaches over you and to the side, grabbing your phone placed on the nightstand beside the bed. With just one tap of the screen, he was accepting the call, placing the phone to your ear.

“Jinnie, hi!” You speak in the sweetest voice, trying your best to mask the lustful tone that had taken over your voice just seconds prior.

For Yoongi this was just a game, seeing if you could last being railed by him while you were on the phone. It was the anticipation that got him off, knowing that the person on the other line had no idea what was going on.

“Hey, I just wanted to know if you were going to be home for dinner? Are you still at Chaeyoung’s?”

“Yep! OOF–”

Yoongi smiles as his hips thrust into you with such force, knocking you forward just inches away from the bed frame. You look back at him with a sneering look on your face, agitated with his antics, but that wasn’t enough for him to stop.

“Everything alright?”

“All good! I just uh,” you stutter as your brain wracks for a response, “I tripped!”

“Oh? Okay well–”

“Actually Jinnie this isn’t a great time to talk I’m in the middle of something, can I call you later?”  Your lip worries between your teeth as you try to suppress a groan, knowing you wouldn’t be able to last much longer and refusing to have an orgasm while on the phone with your brother.

“Well actually I was–”

“Okay great! See you at dinner bye!”

And with that you were snatching the phone out of Yoongi’s hand, ending the call and tossing your phone back off to the side. “You did great,” Yoongi praises as he squeezes your sides in reassurance. Heat rises to your cheeks instinctively; you’re thankful that he can’t see the small smile creeping onto your face in the position that you were in.

“Don’t get all soft on me now, Min,” you retort as you arch your back to give him a better angle. That high you were just inches away from had faded, but you were desperate to get it back.

A deep chuckle rips from his throat as his hands tighten on your waist, increasing his pace again to satisfy you. Focused on getting back on track you rock your ass backwards, hands gripping the sheets to give you better traction.

Yoongi’s movements were beginning to slow and become more forceful, the sounds of his skin colliding with yours and the deep moans echoing from his throat filling your ears. Your chest heaves deeper and heavier with each of his movements, soft whines bubbling past your lips. 

Lewd sounds fill the room as the squelch from your arousal begins to drip down your thighs. “So wet for me,” he groans, teeth clenching as you squeeze tightly around him. The familiar knot in your stomach was finally beginning to make its way back to you. The repetitive tap of Yoongi’s tip deep inside you had you too far gone. With one powerful thrust, you were coming undone around him. Your legs soon begin to shake, the force from your orgasm too strong for you to handle.

A gentle scream escapes your mouth as you ride out your high, Yoongi’s pace only quickening to grant himself an orgasm of his own. The familiar tingling sensation begins to rush through your veins as oversensitivity starts to set in. When your eyes slam shut all you can see are stars, small white blotches blinding your vision as your pussy continues to spasm around him.

Yoongi’s thrusts persist through your orgasm, leaving your legs shaking and all you can offer is the tightening spasms your pussy. Your clenching around him rapidly, milking him for everything he’s worth.

You aren't even able to catch your breath as your orgasm begins to subside. Yoongi is too busy pounding into you, his hips meeting your ass with a slap as he bottoms out.

He doesn’t have to pull out, thankfully you’re on birth control. All that's on your mind is being filled to the brim with Yoongi’s cum. You’re aching for his release, squeezing your core as hard as you can to ease it from him, “Want you to fill me up.”

The grip he holds on your waist tightens, his face scrunching as he focuses on chasing his high. With a few especially hard thrusts he was collapsing over you, holding you close as his cum paints your walls. His heavy breathing fanned over the back of your neck, the perspiration from your body’s mixing like a sexy sweat cocktail.

Yoongi’s body relaxes as he pulls out of you slowly, a trail of cum following in its path and dripping down your thigh. The weight of Yoongi’s body flops down onto the mattress next to you as he lets out an exhausted grunt. Your actions follow soon after, extending your limbs out and laying down to rest your muscles. You know you didn’t have much time until you had to get home. Jin would be there to ask questions if you kept him waiting much longer.

“Come back after dinner?”

Your ears perk up at his words as you rotate your head in his direction. It was odd for you to see him more than twice a week, let alone twice a day. For a moment you’re convinced your hearing things, but by the relaxed look on his face and sparkle of his eyes, it was hard to tell.

“A-after dinner?”

“You could spend the night,” he starts, his words beginning to quicken as he grows anxious at his offer, “if you want to.”

Yoongi’s cheeks begin to grow read as he waits for your answer. It was never his plan to make your situation a serious or permanent thing. But after months of sneaking around, those underlying feelings had begun rising to the surface – he wanted things to be permanent.

An awkward silence fills the air as he awaits your response. A thick gulp travels down his throat, his fingers searching for a loose string or anything to fidget with to ease his nerves.

“I want to,” you say very matter-of-factly, the expression on your face holding true as you try to read his. His face was already red and worn from all the action earlier, but the pink blush creeping onto on his cheeks was due to something else.

“I’ll be back,” and with a soft kiss that you place to his blushing cheek, you are on your way out.

‘Beck & Call’ is copyright 2020 @parksfilter​, all rights reserved. Please do not repost on any platform or translate without permission.

[ad1thi]

2020 fic recs!! [Part 1]

this idea was stolen from @iam93percentstardust cuz i just,,,thought that this year was absolute shit and it would be nice to make a fic rec list of fics from this year that helped me through it. this will be over a range of fandoms and ships, but all fics were written this year. 

fics are ordered by the month they were published. ive tried to keep to five fics per month, but this is not obviously all the fics ive read that month - i just didn’t want to make this insanely long. 

im releasing the first half of this on the 1st of December, and the second half on the 1st of January 2021 - because otherwise it would just get so long (and also so i will actually have fics for December)

happy reading!! hopefully you find fics on this you haven’t read yet

***

January

The cat is mighty dignified (until the dog comes by): @five-wow

Steve and Danny find them on the pillow in the corner of the dining area, where Eddie is on his side, ass half on the floor because the pillow is more cat-sized than lab-sized, and Pickles is nestled between Eddie’s front legs, essentially being spooned and looking very I-got-the-cream about it. Pickles’ head is tucked into the crook of Eddie’s neck and Eddie’s head slots perfectly on top of Mr. Pickles’, like a furry jigsaw puzzle.

“They’re cuddling,” Steve points out, unnecessarily.

Or: There is a love story unfolding under the McGarrett roof.

Captain ‘Socialist Rage Muffin’ America: @baffledkingcomposinghallelujah

It takes three months of dating Steve Rogers for Tony to understand why Aunt Peggy once shot at him in sheer frustration.

Alternately titled, Honey, I committed treason again.

The Best Laid Plans (Of Mice and Men): @arboreal-elm-ash-oak

His Dark Materials AU

It was Annalise who noticed their small visitor first.

“Tony,” the spider daemon said softly, skittering up the collar of his dress shirt, two of her eight legs resting delicately against his cheek, “Don’t startle them, but I believe we have a guest. Look, by the coffee table.”

Fourteen Million to One: @tunastorks

Six months after Thanos, six months after Tony’s death, six months after Steve returns to his own timeline, Tony Stark turns up on their doorstep.

Brewed Awakening: @iam93percentstardust

Two years after he comes out of the ice, Steve is drifting through life. On his teammate's recommendation, he decides to go back to school where he meets the grandson of an old friend. He finds happiness with Tony but Steve won't be in Boston forever and someone is out to hurt the Starks. Will Steve and Tony be able to reach their happily ever after?

February

the young, the reckless and the foolish: @bruciewayne

In most universes, they don't know each other, not in the slightest, or they hate each other, in a way that's perfectly logical for anyone who were to find themselves in a similar situation.

In this one, they've known each other since they were four years old and naively idealistic.

This is them over the years, against the odds.

a giant sign: @areiton

“Think you can get him to open the weapons division up again?” his CO asks, his voice hungry and Rhodey laughs because this--

“No. Tony hung up his weapons.”

“That’s not what the suit says,” his CO objects, and Rhodey shrugs.

Tony has always had rules, rules he expects the entire world to live by.

And then there was Rhodey, slipping under them.

my heart is driftwood, floating down your coast: @nethandrake

Tonight, there’s a stranger in his backseat. That’s not unusual.

He’s also sad. That’s not unusual either.

What is unusual is that the stranger is silent.

(One night, a stranger enters Steve's taxi. Nothing is the same again.)

Just A Cold: @/delighted 

There’s a new text waiting for him. It’s from Steve of course, and it’s vaguely threatening as most messages from Steve are these days. Still Danny ignores it, and now he’s really playing with fire. Maybe it’ll burn the cold out of him.

Or, Danny’s sick, and Steve can’t stay away. The usual comfort fluff. With a little cameo from a gently meddling Grace.

An Unexpected Guide: @/Rachel500

Danny Williams has hidden his Guide status to keep being a detective, but his time of hiding is up when he unexpectedly finds his Sentinel, Steve McGarrett in the midst of a tragedy.

March

Why don’t we (Collide the spaces that divide us): @five-wow

When they finally catch sight of each other again through the milling crowds, they’re both a little worse for wear. Danny’s left side is covered in glitter and every time he brushes a hand over his hair, more blue and purple confetti rains down. Steve is- Well, Steve is randomly shirtless, which is all things considered not excessively remarkable, but he’s also covered in smudges of colorful paint and has a very nicely printed bloodred lipstick kiss mark on his cheek.

“What did you do?” Danny asks, because it looks like Steve had a lot more fun than he did.

Or: Steve and Danny accidentally end up in the middle of something entirely new.

A Little Unsteady: @finduilasclln 

Written for the Tumblr prompt meme : "Hey! I was gonna eat that!"

Tony lashes out at Bucky for eating his dessert. Only, it really isn't about the dessert.

a national treasure: @starklysteve

Steve isn't looking for an apple and Tony decides his passion is to inspire young souls. -x- OR: the AU where Tony is a Youtuber and Steve is Captain America and somehow they still save the world together.

April

cycle through: @ambivalentmarvel

Twenty-five years ago, Tony Stark disappeared from his family home a month after the tragic deaths of his parents, Howard and Maria Stark, leaving a billion-dollar tech conglomerate without an heir and the world wondering what happened.

Twenty-three years ago, HYDRA gained another super soldier.

Ten years ago, Peter Parker’s parents died in what is ruled as a home invasion gone wrong but he knows was murder, plain and simple, because he spoke to the killer.

And in the present, Project Insight fails, and the Iron Soldier pays the price.

FOREVER-LOVE YOU-I: @/Eudoxia

Tony Stark is twenty-one when he loses his voice. It shouldn't matter, but in a world where the first words your Soulmate says to you are marked on your skin, it can be pretty damn annoying.

Especially for Tony's soulmate.

--

Companion piece to my fic Thumb, Index, and Pinky Extended. This is Steve's POV, with a few extra scenes, as a treat.

(Edit: Sorry if you guys get multiple notifications for this. I just realized (about two hours after posting it) that I fucked up the grammar in the title and I HAD to fix it. YOLO, I guess.)

come build a home out of me: @maguna-stxrk

Steve clears his throat.

“What if I went with you?” he asks nonchalantly, like his heart isn’t threatening to beat out of his ribcage.

Tony blinks a few times, looking at Steve, his mouth ajar. “As a— As my date?”

“Yeah.” Steve nods, feeling a little breathless.

“You don’t mind?” Tony furrows his eyebrows.

“I don’t. In fact, you can just tell them I’m your boyfriend. I’m sure they’ll back off, wouldn’t they?”

What.

“I— Huh?” Tony stares at him, brown eyes blown wide open.

What. What. What.

“Huh? Uh, I mean— You know, that way people will see that you have definitely moved on. Monica will see that you have moved on. Right?” Steve smiles, hoping that it masks his inner panic, because what?

Steve Rogers, what have you done?

i don’t have a choice (but i’d still choose you): @nethandrake

There’s a name inked onto his chest, a name written in an all-too familiar scrawl. And it’s— It’s—

Steve doesn’t realize his body is quaking until he’s tracing the tattoo with a shaky finger.

Because of course that is the name etched into the skin. Like a brand, a reminder for everything he has done. An appropriate retribution.

Anthony Edward Stark.

(When Thanos snaps half of the universe away, he unknowingly leaves the other half with soulmarks.)

ua haʻalele ʻoe iaʻu (a ua hoʻomālamalama ʻoe iaʻu): @just-fandomthings

"The truth is, I was shot in the chest and nearly died, and not even three days after I was released from the hospital, you up and left-- and of those two, I'm not sure which one hurt me worse!"

(Coda to 10x22 because come on, we all need a better ending than the one given to us.)

Title loosely translates to: "You left me in the dark (you lit me up)" -- inspired by the brilliant song "Say You Won't Let Go" by James Arthur

May

A Piece Of The Past: @hddnone

It had been so many years since Bucky had gone undercover in the Stark family's mob, he thought he'd gotten away clean.

Then Tony Stark slid into the seat across from him at his breakfast diner, and Bucky's boss has a new case for him.

the privilege of loving you: @starklysteve

“Why won’t you let me touch you?”

It’s a desperate plea, half-shouted and half-whispered, Steve’s voice cracking at the end. Tony stops in his tracks, halfway to the stairs. He doesn’t dare to turn back, and he really doesn’t want to fight, or to leave, to spend the last month of his life away from his husband and their son. But Steve can’t know, can he?

-x-

Or: Tony has palladium poisoning, but he doesn't tell Steve and Peter

your pillow feels so soft now (but still you must advance): @firebrands

When Bruce is 13, he decides to go to boarding school. It's an opportunity for him to learn about other people, and how to interact with them.

Bruce has the misfortune of meeting Tony Stark upon his arrival in Roxbury. Bruce is moving into his room, and Tony opens the door of his room to watch. He looks a bit younger than Bruce, hair wild and eyes bright. Bruce has never seen a boy like him before—handsome and confident.

Bruce doesn’t like it.

IMPORTANT: This fic has them meeting at 14, then progresses slowly until they’re 17. Includes underage drinking and kissing.

This is set before Bruce becomes Batman and Tony becomes Iron Man and I have no explanation as to how or why they just DO Canonically, Bruce is 17 when he finishes school and goes around the world to train, so we're sticking with that

The Real MVP: @sword-and-stars (part of a series)

[“I have saved this Tuesday!” Sokka announces, rattling the bag upon reentry.

Zuko doesn’t even look up from his phone as he deadpans, “It’s Thursday.”

Okay, so Sokka is still having trouble getting his days right without checking. At least he’s gone back to sleeping at night! Going to bed at night is way easier when you have a cute, cuddly boyfriend who starts falling asleep around eleven o’clock. It also helps that he and Zuko are on solid gold butt-touching terms.

It’s been a while since Sokka has been on butt-touching terms with someone and it’s amazing.]

Or,

Sokka knows a guy, gets laid, and introduces Zuko to the merits of an afternoon delight.

When is a bed not a bed? (When you’re not in it): @riotwritesthings

There’s a tiny safe house, with one tiny window and one tiny couch.

And one tiny little bed.

June

Nice Fingers: @anthonyed

A single compliment given by Tony stirs Bucky restless until he caves in and asks him out on a date.

With Steve’s help of course (whether he likes it or not).

The Darkest Touch: @starkrogerrs

This is the story of how Steve finds that it has been ordained that he is to marry a monster he cannot resist aka the God of Love himself, Tony.

It's Cupid x Psyche retold, but with thrice the amount of porn.

The Night Shift:  @weethreequarter

Welcome to the Emergency Department of San Antonio General where Dr. Tony Stark joins the team fresh from his most recent tour in Afghanistan and - much to the consternation of the other staff - strikes up an instant rapport with Nurse Steve Rogers. Meanwhile, new resident Bruce Banner refuses to give up on his patient, and Dr. Sharon Carter learns something from her own patients. Throw in a pissed off hospital administrator, Clint using the coffee pot as a mug again, and a major car crash and you have, well, just another night shift.

Wind Beneath My Wings: @iam93percentstardust

Sam first meets Tony Stark in 2005 when he joins the EXO-7 Falcon program.

In jest: @/apathyinreverie

“No, babe,” Danny shakes his head with a grin. “If the apocalypse were to go down while I’m elsewhere for some godforsaken reason, then you stay put and I’m coming to wherever you are.” His grin widens. “And I expect you to have cleared any aliens or zombies or whatever else might be messing with us off the island and to have set up a nice, comfortable military dictatorship for us to rule over by the time I get back.”

It’s a joke.

Of course it’s a joke.

Until it isn’t.

(A the-day-after-tomorrow-style apocalypse AU, where the world decides to end right when Danny is visiting one of the other islands with Grace. Because, of course, it does.)

[rapturerecords]

Song: Cafard (aka Blues for You)

Composer: Philippe Parès (aka Gabriel Parès)

Record Label: A Sam Fox Production SF1012

Released: 1966

Location: Gomorrah casino, Mysterious broadcast

Once again Mr. Sam Fox (or Synchro Fox) brings us another mystery, the same label that brought you “Stars and Teardrops” aka “Joe Cool”.

Also as a side note though “Cafard” literally translates to “cockroach”, it’s likely that the title is referring to the French idiomatic expression “avoir le cafard” or “to have the blues” which dovetails neatly into the alternate title, “Blues for You”. 

Although this instrumental is not broadcast on the main three radio stations in New Vegas, it is heard in the Gomorrah casino as the lobby music. Later, it can be heard on the Mysterious Broadcast inviting you to the Big MT.

Unfortunately, unlike Fallout 3′s end credits, Fallout: New Vegas’ end credits feature the licensed music from the standard record labels, but omits all of the radio tunes from APM including the instrumentals save for a brief mention of  “Additional Music Courtesy of APM Music”.

As is the case with library music, finding artist and recording information is extremely difficult as these songs were never meant to be sold to the public, instead being exclusively used for the film and TV industry. What follows is an attempt to extricate this information.

Note: Library music is typically identified by composer or emotion. Very little can be confirmed about the musicians who performed on the recording.

So let us focus on what is known, starting with the full track list:

Side A

1. Global Hop (G. Wright Briggs) 2. Ephesus - Theme (Robert R. Way) 3. Ephesus - Bridge #1 (Robert R. Way) 4. Ephesus - Bridge #2 (Robert R. Way) 5. Ephesus - Bridge #3 (Robert R. Way) 6. Ephesus - Bridge #4 (Robert R. Way) 7. Ephesus - Bridge #5 (Robert R. Way) 8. Ephesus - Curtain (Robert R. Way) 9. Caudia - Theme (Robert R. Way) 10. Pegasus - Theme (long) (Robert R. Way) 11. Pegasus - Theme (short) (Robert R. Way) 12. Pegasus - Bridge #1 (Robert R. Way) 13. Pegasus - Bridge #2 (Robert R. Way) 14. Balua (Roger Roger) 15. Song of the Trade Winds (Roger Roger) 16. Bits and Pieces (Openings, Bridges, Endings) (Roger Roger) 17. Love Me (Roger Roger) 18. Memories of Barbara (Roger Roger) 19. Tropics (Roger Roger)

Side B

1. Tour for Swingers (Loren Wilfong) 2. Whooping and Hollering (Loren Wilfong) 3. Slim (Cecil Leuter) 4. Reveil (Nino Nardini) 5. Cafard (Ph. Pares) 6. Lunatic (Soulful) Trumpet (Jim Wakerfield) 7. Polly (J.S.  Zamecnik) 8. Heart Beats (Walter E. Miles)     Winter Tales (Czibulka - Lamont)     The Man on the Flying Trapeze (Honky Tonk Piano Medley) (arr. Victor Lamont) 9. Monte Carlo Polka (Ph. Pares) 10. Ta-Ra-Ra-Boom-Der-Ei (March 1900) (Ph. Pares)

About the composer

Left: Gabriel Parès (père) - postcard and record label, ca. 1910s Right: Philippe Parès (fils) - EP album covers, ca. 1950s

As expected with library music, this track has been miscredited. The CD reissue lists the composer as Gabriel Parès while the record credits Philippe Parès. To confuse the issue further, they are father and son. 

Gabriel Parès lived from 1860-1934, slightly before when this track was pressed in 1966. Gabriel was primarily known for his marching band music as captain of the Garde Républicaine. His son, Philippe Parès was known for his work with collaborator George Van Parys in musical theater and jazz which better aligns with the 1966 date of this track. 

Both father and son were dedicated to music theory ranging from the Parès scales to the books Qui est l'auteur de la Marseillaise? and Histoire du droit de reproduction mécanique.

The 1978 book 33 tours en arrière et notes en vrac (Before 33 RPM and Loose Notes), serves as Philippe’s memoir regarding the music of his father, pre-war,  Occupation, and post-war music from 1923-1962. Philippe would also pass the following year in 1979.

About the recording

As noted above, the original title “Cafard” is likely linked to the French idiom “avoir le cafard” which ties into the CD reissue’s title of “Blues for You”. 

As for the miscredited composer, aside from the father/son confusion, Philippe’s full name is “Philippe Gabriel Hippolyte Emmanuel Parès”. The middle name of “Gabriel” probably didn’t help identification matters much. 

Similar to Stars and Teardrops/Joe Cool, “Cafard” aka “Blues for You” was reissued on the same Carlin Archives CD Jazzy Vibes, CAS 019, previously under APM, now under Warner/Chappell.

Along with the miscrediting of Philippe Parès as Gabriel Parès, track number 20 picked up the two similar descriptions between the Carlin Archives Series and the CPM issues. 

“Slow relaxed blues features saxophone electric guitar”

“Slow relaxed blues features electric guitar vibes saxophone trumpet”

There aren’t any entries in BMI, but ASCAP has the song registered under “Cafard” composed by Philippe Parès, not under “Blues for You”. 

As for dating the track, again the process is similar to “Stars and Teardrops”. 

The small R in the dead wax stands for the RCA Pressing plant in Rockaway, New Jersey which ceased operations in 1973.

The etched matrix number is TR4M. However, RCA adopted a custom of switching the 2nd and 3rd characters of the matrix numbers every 10,000 numbers every year. So the matrix number should actually read “T4RM”.

In short the matrix numbers stand for:

T = 1966

4 = Re-recorded from client’s furnished tapes

R = 12" - 33⅓ RPM

M = Mono (Fine)

Alas, the record label still provides no clues for the performers on the tracks. What remains are the composers’ credits.

Listen to “Stars and Teardrops” aka “Joe Cool” also on Sam Fox here.

Find more library music tracks used in Fallout here.

[actonbellworks]

BTS and art-pop; a postmodern analysis of the album Love Yourself: Tear (2017)

this is an essay i wrote for a uni assignment, and i really wanted to post it here, so,,,

The closest definition of postmodern music, by Jonathan Kramer, in his 1996 essay Postmodern Concepts of Musical Time, is described in several characteristics. It is not a repudiation or a continuation of modernism, but contains aspects of both; it is, on some level, ironic, disregards the value of structural unity, and seeks to break down the distinctions between ‘highbrow’ and ‘lowbrow’ music. Postmodern music refuses to be cast into a specific mold, includes detailed references, is pluralistic and eclectic, but above all, it locates its meaning much more in the listener than it does in the actual music and performance. In his essay, Answering the Question: what is Postmodernism? Jean Francois Lyotard defines postmodernism as part of the modern, conceding to perhaps the most influential critic of Postmodernism, Jurgen Habermas, as he writes, “The postmodern would be that which, in the modern, puts forward the unpresentable in presentation itself…”. The phenomenon of the postmodern, as critics have tried to define it, exists in spite of a definition.

This leads us to another, far more important question; can we define ‘popular’ music as ‘postmodern’? Critics still hesitate to attribute the ‘postmodern’ or the ‘art-pop’ tag to mainstream popular music, because they view postmodernist music and art-pop as a genre that is inexorably linked with modernism, which implies that there has to be a predecessor for popular music to be classified as ‘postmodern’. In another definition, one that is, perhaps, far more closer to the hypothesis laid out by Kramer, is that Postmodernist music, and indeed, the postmodernist movement, developed as a reaction to modernism, and as such, incorporates the attributes of modernism as well as defies it to a certain extent.

The genre of K-pop has been popularised all over the world largely due to the influence of the seven-member band BTS (방탄소년단 in Korean), and their detailed musicality, which is perhaps showcased best in their third studio album, Love Yourself 轉 ‘Tear’, widely regarded as one of their most intricate works. True to the definition of postmodern music, the album smoothly shifts genres, sometimes in the gap of a single song, although there is a thematic, sometimes singular focus on the feelings of loss and loneliness. To centre a musical venture around the idea of love and loss is nothing new, perhaps, but ‘Tear’ refuses to play into any of the common tropes.

The term ‘postmodern’ contains an air of elitism with it, as it still refers to practices that developed as a reaction to the modernist methods of the twentieth century. It directly challenges the strict rules of modernist art, a return to pre-modernist era art techniques, and above all, it removes the boundaries between the “classical” and the “popular”. BTS has been termed as ‘popular music’ by critics, and while the label ‘popular music’ is considered restrictive, for many music critics, ‘Tear’ represents how the genre can be pushed to its limits, moving beyond the limitations set by the industry and by music critics in general.

Perhaps one of the most dynamic songs in the LP’s tracklist is the title track, “FAKE LOVE”, the music video for which begins with silence, and the track is completed by a jagged guitar riff that cuts off abruptly to a scene of the seven members, dressed in robes and masks that look eerily reminiscent of the early Greek comedic tradition, in which every character is identifiable by their masks and their choice of costumery. The teaser for the music video, interestingly, had the piece, Waltz in A-flat major, OP. 9, No. 1 by Frédéric Chopin, also termed as ‘The Farewell Waltz’ or ‘Valse de l’adieu’. Chopin’s music and BTS’ song both move in circles, without reaching a conclusion. Chopin’s waltz moves in ¾ beats, until it ends abruptly, and FAKE LOVE reiterates the same line,

Love you so bad, love you so bad

널 위해 예쁜 거짓을 빚어낸

Love it's so mad, love it's so mad

날 지워 너의 인형이 되려 해

널 위해서라면 난

슬퍼도

Which loosely translates to “love you so bad/ I create a beautiful lie for you/ love you so mad/ I try to become your doll by erasing myself.” Both pieces move around the idea of loss, with neither reaching anywhere fruitful. Chopin’s waltz ends where it had begun, in the middle of his heartbreak, and BTS end their song with the refrain of

기쁜 척 할 수가 있었어

널 위해서라면 난

아파도 강한 척 할 수가 있었어

사랑이 사랑만으로 완벽하길

내 모든 약점들은 다 숨겨지길

이뤄지지 않는 꿈속에서

피울 수 없는 꽃을 키웠어

Which again, translates to “for you, I could pretend to be happy even when sad/ for you I could pretend I was strong even when I was hurt/ Wishing that love is perfect as itself/Wishing all my weakness is hidden/In a dream that can’t come true/I raised a flower that couldn’t bloom”.

A particular characteristic of art-pop music and alternative music in general, is the recurring motif that runs through one or more songs. In ‘Tear’, the septet continue to use masks, in order to symbolise what is the loss of one’s self, in the process of another, perhaps more explicitly shown in their introductory music video to the album, ‘Singularity’, where singer Kim Taehyung (using the stage moniker V) sings about losing his voice, trapped in a lake, donning a mask that obscures half of his face, losing all his individuality. ‘Singularity’ is perhaps one of the most complicated songs to translate from Korean, as the songwriter, RM, lays down visual clues of what it feels like to wake up from a dream, only to find oneself trapped. The music video carries forward the baroque imagery, as well as the heavy classical influences in the slow progression of the track; it conjures the powerful imagery of being trapped underwater ourselves, in the lyrics

Tell me 내 목소리가 가짜라면

날 버리지 말았어야 했는지

Tell me 고통조차 가짜라면

그때 내가 무얼해야 했는지

Loosely translated, it refers to someone trapped underwater, who doesn't feel as though their voice belongs to themselves. ‘Singularity’ wonders whether or not it is worth it to sacrifice one’s individuality to mould themselves to fit in. Postmodern art talks about the truth of the artist, especially how difficult it is to maintain one’s sincerity to survive, be it in a relationship, or in the music industry, a sentiment expressed by the septet in the fifth track of the album, ‘Paradise’ (낙원 ), where rappers Suga and j-hope express their dissatisfaction with the world through an intertwined verse,

누군 이렇게 누군 저렇게 산다면서

세상은 내게 욕을 퍼붓네

세상은 욕할 자격이 없네

꿈을 꾸는 법이 무엇인지

(“saying some are living like this,some are living like that/ the world pours curses at me/ the world has no right to pour curses at me/ for it has never even taught me how to dream '')

The song ‘Paradise’ is not only about the futility of the dreams that we are forced to accept and work towards, it also serves as a reminder of the society that we continue to subject the future generations to, in the capitalistic pursuit of wealth and correlating it to happiness, we forget that perhaps, humanity is not defined by wealth. ‘Paradise’ sets a reminder that it is okay to pause the world to remind ourselves that the world does not exist in spite of us, it exists because of us.

Perhaps the strangest, most compelling song on the entire album is the final song, ‘OUTRO: TEAR’. A rap track featuring the three rappers, it has been one of the most lyrically intimidating songs. A direct continuation of the thought process in ‘singularity’, “OUTRO: TEAR’ also muses upon the threads of a broken relationship, and the precipice upon which it all began.

For music critics, the opening six bars of the outro are reminiscent of the sombre tunes in Rachmaninoff’s piano concertos, which reach a crescendo and give way to RM’s introductory verse. It is a song that has remorse at the very core of it, writing for one’s lost love, for which there is still regret. For RM and Suga, this comes with the words

어쩜 내가 너를 사랑했던 적이 아예 없는 것 같아서

(because it felt like maybe I had never loved you anyway)

심장이 찢겨져 차라리 불 태워줘

고통과 미련 그 무엇도 남지 않게끔

(“my heart breaks, please rather burn it, so that the pain and the lingering love disappears”) while RM denotes his regret with rhyming sequences that linger, and for Suga, it is in a series of archaic, perhaps even frightening metaphors to his breaking heart. Both the rappers are talking about their failed relationship, with music, their friends, and their love, how it has an everlasting effect on their lives, one that will never go away, even with acceptance of their fate.

Written at the brink of disbandment, perhaps the coda by j-hope is where the song hits the hardest. The most lyrically dense section of the song is the coda, where j-hope lays down a flurry of rhymes and rhythms, shaken at the prospect of leaving music altogether. Although the song stems from a personal story for the septet, it deals with the very real anxiety and fear an artist has, of having to separate from their art. For j-hope it is akin to a break-up, a sundering with the very people he had thought would be by his side forever, and he writes, “이별은 내겐 그 순간들뿐”(goodbye, for me is only there, just at those moments). He writes,

넌 내 시작과 끝That is all

(“You are my beginning, end, that is all”)

And to him, and to all artists, art is supreme, and the thought of parting from the art that has given them so much, would be akin to severing them from their soulmate. For many music critics, the outro is the most complex song they have heard form the septet, with some going so far as to naming it a magnum opus.

In Love Yourself 轉 ‘Tear’, BTS puts the spotlight on the human condition; something which is fallible, something which is dependant upon others. Postmodernism, and postmodernist art, especially, talks about the complex aspects of humanity, forcing people to pay attention to the world and to their own selves. It isn't the music videos with homages paid to Romantic era composers, neither is it the layered verses with the double entendres of lyrical meanings. ‘Tear’ is a postmodern work of art because it covers multiple aspects of the human condition, while also harkening back to the music that inspires artists to create; and the stories they tell in ‘Tear’ are universal.

(trans cr to @doolsetbangtan)

[gravelyhumerus]

Criminal Minds College AU - Chapter 3

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Title: “I may just take your breath away”

Relationship: Jemily

Summary:

It's midterm season and Emily runs into JJ at the library, they decide to study together.

Slow-burn Jemily college AU where they live across the hall and despite all odds, the universe pushes them together. AKA they’re silly gay babies who pine after each other for months.

Read it on AO3

Tumblr:  One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, (bonus scene), Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Epilogue

There were no seats left in this entire goddamned library. Not a single one. Emily was on her second lap on the third floor, desperate for somewhere to sit down and have some peace and quiet to study for her test. She should have assumed this would happen. It was midterm season and the libraries were packed with students around this time each year.

She quietly made her way through the stacks and came upon a long, rectangular table near the back window. It overlooked a dark parking lot. The books were gigantic tombs of old academic journals that no one had probably even opened in decades.

There were eight seats and seven people, with one selfish asshole storing their backpack on the empty seat. Well, could be saving it for their friend, but with it being midterm season, those rules really shouldn’t apply anymore.

Emily braced herself and, with a smile, tapped the boy on the shoulder.

He had a large pair of headphones on. He lifted one side off his ear in a gesture of: ‘what do you want.’

“Is anyone sitting there?” She whispered, as quietly as she could, pointing to the seat next to him.

“Oh sorry,” he said, somewhat reluctantly, moving the coat and bag, inviting her to join him. She smiled in thanks and sat down.

Carefully unpacking her laptop and books, Emily tried to avoid disturbing the other folks at her table, the silence making each noise she made boom through the library. She settled down and pulled out her thermos, taking a sip of her coffee and bracing herself for a long night.

Her core classes for psychology were brutal, filled with endless memorization of terminology, stacks of mandatory books to read and countless essays.

At 8:30 the next morning it was her Introduction to Clinical Psychology midterm, worth a whopping thirty percent of her grade. She spent the entire day, between classes, at the Starbucks on campus, drinking her way through her student funds in coffee form and making endless flashcards.

She already had a stack of almost one hundred cards and she still had a couple hours of work left.

Just returning from dinner at the cafeteria, Emily had decided that she needed the relative quiet of the massive campus library to focus on the memorization period of her evening.

She flipped to the right page of her textbook: page 315, with a large header reading “SEXUAL DISORDERS” in large caps. Emily sighed, it was a strange thing to spend her time learning but at least it never failed to be interesting.

At least she wasn’t in Statistics this semester.

Emily took another sip of coffee, then rummaged through her bag for her wireless headphones, connecting them to her phone in order to play her studying playlist, which was mostly movie soundtracks, interspersed with Emily’s favourite classical music and of course, some lo-fi hip hop beats. She could not listen to music with words when studying, she would get too distracted and get nothing done.

Emily began gnawing at her thumbnail, focusing on writing down the definitions.

After around two hours of writing, Emily finally finished her flashcards. She stretched her back, closed her textbook, and went on her phone for a short break.

A Snapchat notification popped up on her screen.

Cheetobreath98 added you as a friend.

Emily frowned. Who on earth was that? Emily clicked on the profile, revealing the familiar face of Jennifer Jareau.

JJ had added her as a friend! On snapchat no less! That was at least three steps more intimate than Instagram.

Woah. Slow down there Em. She told herself. Don’t make it something it’s not.

They kept running into each other. JJ was probably just being friendly. She probably just wanted to say thank you for the cookies or send her funny snaps of the other students on their floor.

She has a boyfriend, a boyfriend she is having trouble with, but a boyfriend nonetheless. You can’t go around thinking about intimacy and Jennifer Jareau in the same sentence.

Emily accepted the friend request. Did that make them friends now? Emily hoped so. They could be friends.

As Emily stared at their chat, a new snap from JJ came in. Emily couldn’t help herself, she opened it immediately and she was met with a photo… of herself.

Emily’s head shot up looking around. She looked back down and it was clearly a photo of Emily, hunched over the desk with her head resting on her chin, staring down at her phone, taken from somewhere to her left.

JJ waved at her from between some books. Emily shot her a surprised smile in response.

She closed her laptop, stood, and walked over to her.

“Creeper,” Emily whispered with a giggle.

JJ had a large textbook and some notebooks in her arms, and a backpack hanging off one shoulder, and leaned in towards Emily to speak quietly, which let Emily catch the light, fruity smell of her perfume, blending nicely with the earthy smell of the old books around them.

“Guilty as charged,” JJ smiled.

“What are you working on?” Emily asked, gesturing at her heavy load, she leaned and took a peek at the title of the textbook.

“French,” JJ said, “It’s hard to bullshit that when you don’t know it. I’ve got a midterm tomorrow.”

“Bien sûr,” Emily replied confidently in French.

JJ blinked.

“Tu parles Français?” JJ’s French was shaky and uncertain, with less of an accent than Emily would expect.

Emily coughed quietly and tried to clear her throat.

“I do,” she replied in French, “I’ve been told that when I was a toddler, I was speaking it more fluently than English.”

JJ glanced down, seeming to be translating her words for a brief moment before replying, slowly, clearly excited to use Emily for practise.

“Are you French?”

“No,” Emily said, “My mom wasn’t around much when we were living in France and the nanny didn’t speak English.”

“Ton nurse?” JJ asked, not knowing the definition of ‘nanny’ in French.

“Oh uh,” Emily replied in English, “My nanny, the lady who watched me when my mom was working. She’s an ambassador.”

JJ nodded, then switched to English. She didn’t ask about Emily’s dad, which Emily was grateful for.

“My family is French, originally I guess,” JJ said, “Hence Jareau , the French name. I remember my grandparents speaking it when I was growing up. I only learned a few words from them so I thought I’d take a course here. I need language courses for my communications degree anyways.”

“Your French is good!” Emily assured her. “Honestly mine is getting rusty, I have no one to practise on.”

“Well,” JJ said between coughs, “you could tutor me?”

Emily smiled. An opportunity to spend more time with her? She would take it. She nodded.

“Mais oui!” Emily replied in her most dramatic accent that she could manage, sending both girls into a fit of giggles.

“Shhhhh!” Someone at Emily’s table hissed.

The two girls made eye contact, then burst into another fit of giggles.

“I have a study room booked for nine,” JJ said, “If you want to join me.”

“Absolutely,” Emily replied, “I have a midterm tomorrow as well, so I’ll be here for awhile.”

“Allons-y!” JJ whisper-yelled.

Emily collected her things and followed JJ into a room down the hall, tucked behind the stacks. Inside, was a desk, a couple of white boards and a small window facing into the quad. It was small, with only two chairs. It was shocking that JJ even managed to snag that, the booking system filled up days in advance during midterm season.

“I hate whispering,” Emily said at normal volume once the door was shut.

“Libraries are supposed to be quiet,” JJ said.

“I’ve never been good at quiet.”

JJ laughed.

Emily sat down next to her, stealing a glance at JJ while she was distracted: she had a pair of track pants, with a loose fitted t-shirt on top, a pastel blue which complemented her skin tone well. On top, she had her varsity hoodie unzipped, with their school’s crest on display. She looked good, as always, despite being in basically athletic sweats looking ready to go to the gym at any moment.

Emily placed her books down next to JJ at the table, stacking her flash cards neatly next to it. JJ’s eyes widened at the sight of the pile.

“You don’t have to help if you don’t have time,” JJ said, “Honestly I would just appreciate the company.”

“Nonsense,” Emily replied, “I’d be happy to help. I’ve been working on these flash cards all day, I need a break anyways. How ‘bout we work through your practise sheets, then you quiz me after? What’s your test on?”

“Conjugation,” JJ replied, flipping her notes open to a page full of irregular verbs and their conjugations.

“Oh sweet,” Emily scanned the notes, “Present tense, I can do this.”

Emily leaned back in her chair, pulling her feet up to sit crossed-legged.

“I was worried you were going to ask me the difference between plus-que-parfait and subjonctif or something.”

“I don’t even know what that is.”

“Lucky,” Emily said.

JJ then reached into her bag, pulling out a small case and revealing a pair of glasses—reading glasses—and put them onto her face. They were gold rimmed, round framed, and made her eyes slightly larger with the magnification.

“You-” Emily stuttered, her brain feeling like it was short circuiting at the sight of JJ, “Have glasses?”

“Yeah,” JJ muttered flipping through her notebook, “I don’t really need them but I’ve been staring at screens all day and my eyes are tired.”

“Nerd,” Emily fake-coughs. JJ’s draw drops and she hits Emily playfully with her notebook, whacking her on the arm lightly.

“You promised to help me, not mock me for my bad eyes,” JJ huffs.

“Ok fine let’s conjugate… hmmm… ‘voir’ to start,” Emily jokes, spinning her pen between her fingers.

“I know you’re kidding but I actually don’t know that one.”

Emily grins and begins explaining to her how to conjugate ‘to see’ in French.

“Now,” Emily says, “If you want to talk about how I can see, and you can’t—because you’re blind—you would write: Emily voit. Emily sees.”

“Elle voit? V-o-i-t?”

“Oui, et, Jennifer ne voit pas!” Emily giggles, “Jennifer does not see!”

“Ha-ha,” JJ says, not laughing.

“Sorry, I’ll stop now,” Emily says, picking up the worksheet and reading it over.

“Basically,” JJ says, “I need to just memorize this list of common irregular verbs by tomorrow. I already have the regular er, ir and re verbs down.”

“Cocky girl,” Emily said. “I like it.”

“Ok what verb should we start with?”

“Vouloir,” Emily said, “to want.”

The deeper meaning of this was not lost on her, even as she said it. Emily was far past the point of denying it to herself, or Morgan when he teased her, Emily wanted JJ.

“Start with je,” Emily continued, unfazed by her own internal monologue. “What do you want?”

“Je veux… un biscuit,” JJ said, sticking her pen in her mouth. She was so cute when she focused, chewing distractedly on the cap, with her glasses falling down her nose.

“Now what would I want?” Emily prompted, trying to focus back on the worksheet and not JJ in profile, gazing at the gentle slope of her nose, her pink lips that would probably taste like chapstick.

“Tu veux du thé?” JJ grinned, evoking their previous late-night hang out.  

“Oui,” Emily smiled, “I could definitely use some of your tea right now. Stuck with coffee for now though. I need the caffeine.”

They continued through that verb, moving down her list and covering aller, mettre, venir, before cycling back to the most important ones to make sure JJ had them memorized. Covering lots of ground, the two girls spent almost two hours straight working through her midterm prep booklet.

“Thanks so much for helping,” JJ said. “Maybe you could tutor me again sometime.”

Emily grinned. Maybe it was just tutoring but that meant hours alone with her and her pretty face and her laugh and the way she smelled like warm vanilla.

“Whenever you need me!”

“Je suis excité!” JJ said, in French, which was definitely not what she aimed to say.

Emily began to laugh. Hard. It started as a giggle but the sheer ridiculousness of her situation made it so much funnier. Her crush just looked her in the eyes and told her she was horny.  

“What?!” JJ demanded, nervously laughing at Emily’s reaction.

“Oh gosh I’m sorry,” Emily tried to calm down, to hold in her laughs. “In French we never say excité. It does not mean excited.”

“What does it mean?”

“JJ you just said that you were horny,” Emily made out between laughs. It must be the lack of sleep that made the simple mistake so much funnier.

“Emily!” JJ laughed, “don’t laugh at me I didn’t know!”

Emily’s laughter was infectious and before long the two girls were lost in a fit of giggles.

“You should say: ‘J’ai hâte!’” Emily said eventually, “it means I can’t wait. Like: J’ai hâte d'étudier avec toi. Or Je suis ravi. Or impatiente. Just don’t go around telling people how horny you are.”

“Fine,” JJ said, with a slight pout, “ J’ai hâte. ”

Emily nodded.

“I guess I can say I learned something today,” JJ murmured, “I guess it really is the language of love.”

Emily didn’t say anything, taking a sip of her cold coffee to muffle the squeak threatening to come out of her throat

“So,” JJ changed the subject, “gimme your flash cards. What are you learning?”

Before Emily could earn her, JJ flipped over the first card which read: ‘SEXUAL DISORDERS!’ in Emily’s messy script.

“On the same theme,” JJ murmured.

And so for the next hour, JJ and Emily made their way through her psychology flash cards, slowly making sure that Emily had the endless serious mental health disorders, personality disorders and other terms memorized before her midterm.

Luckily, In the process of writing them down, and due to her religious commitment to attending lectures, Emily had already retained most of them. Studying with JJ did help, because it forced her to explain some of the concepts in plain language, which, she found, furthered her understanding.

Moreover, JJ had brought snacks. Which made studying every more doable when she  could award herself with an m&m for each correct answer.

The thing was, half way through Emily’s stack of cards, and as the night crept on, JJ’s energy crashed as the girl’s body decided that it was way past her bedtime and that she should be asleep.

Unlike Emily, JJ was clearly not a night owl.

Eventually, Emily finished up her studying alone, discovering that the blonde was just about useless, as she read out gibberish and expected Emily to understand her. JJ finally fell asleep sitting up at about one-thirty in the morning. Emily decided to leave her be as she still needed to jot a few things down.

“JJ?” Emily murmured after a few minutes, poking the other girl with her pen. “JJ? Wake up.”

“Mm?” JJ murmured, her eyes still closed shut, her head heavy resting on her hand. She was adorable.

“I’m calling it,” Emily said, closing her textbook. “It’s almost two. We’ve studied enough.”

“Mmm… yeah I don’t know if I can fit any more French in my brain,” JJ rubbed her eyes.

“I think you’ll do just fine!”

They packed up their things, bundling up against the cold fall air. JJ went through the motions with her eyes half shut, allowing Emily to guide her out of their study room, down the spiral staircase and into the lobby.  

Unfortunately, as they stood just inside the library door, the clouds broke, sending rain pouring down onto campus. Sighing at their poor timing, they pulled their hoods over their hair in an attempt to stay relatively dry.

They walked home, laughing as it rained down onto them.

JJ seemed to wake up and her prior drowsiness seemed to fade into the night sky. She giggled as she splashed in a puddle, and her yellow jacket lit up under a street lamp.

Emily grinned, feeling elated in her exhaustion. How lucky she was! Splashing in the rain with JJ, which was a strange yet pleasant ending to what had promised to be a dredge of an evening. JJ waited for a moment, letting Emily catch out before grasping onto Emily’s hand and holding on, pulling her through the rain.

They tore through the torrential downpour, their hands clasped together, unbothered by the cold as the fiery feeling of JJ’s hand in her own had her full attention. A warm feeling filled her chest as she thought about how it was JJ who wanted to hold Emily’s hand.

Not caring whether it was just a friendly hand hold, or if it meant more, Emily’s heart soared.

JJ’s hand was smaller than hers, and their fingers fell together perfectly, comfortably linked like they were built to do so.

They only let go once they reached the door to their building, as Emily fumbled with the wet metal key ring in her pocket, unlocking the front door and offering the two relief from the rain.

They lingered in the hall, both damp, looking at each other as the tiredness returned and settled into their bones. Emily could see the bags under JJ’s eyes, the exhaustion clear on her face. Her cheeks were flushed from running through the rain and her blonde hair wet and tangled from the wind.

A voice in Emily’s head demanded that she reach out her hands, firmly grab the sides of JJ’s perfect face and kiss her then and there. It would be so perfect, their lips would meet and JJ would rest her hands on Emily’s hips. She would pull her in close and their bodies would crash into each other, fitting together perfectly. Emily’s tongue would graze against JJ’s lips, and their kiss would deepen until finally they would pull apart and-

“Goodnight, Emily,” JJ said, smiling at her sweetly, “Get some sleep before your midterm.”

Emily was brought crashing back into reality.

“Oh,” Emily said, “Yeah you too, you need it.”

“Thank you for helping me out,” JJ continued, “I was having a really bad day and you really made me feel a lot better.”

JJ looked down.  

“Yeah, uh, this morning I broke up with Will. Or maybe he broke up with me. I don’t know,” she admitted, “and with the midterm… then the home game tomorrow afternoon...“

She sighed.

“It was a long day and I’m grateful for your company.”

Kiss her, the voice in her head screamed, do it!

“I’m sorry about your break up, either way,” Emily said sincerely. “I feel the same way. I mean, I enjoyed your company. I think I’m going to do well on my midterm too.”

She smiled at JJ who returned it sleepily. Emily kicked herself for the awkward phrasing but blamed the fact that it was late at night and she was processing the fact that her crush was single. Single and had held her hand.

“Bonne chance demain,” Emily said with a wave, wishing JJ luck.

They looked at each other for another moment, before turning and unlocking their individual rooms. That night, Emily dreamt of Paris, cookies and the girl across the hall.

[fictioninmyblood]

Sacred Light

A/N: I have a hopeful heart so Erik is alive and redeemed. I also didn’t proofread cause I was trying to get all the thoughts out. Hope yawl like. Sidenote: life hit me like a runaway train literally the first day of this challenge so I’m mad behind now. Sorrrrryyyyyyyyy. I will write and post when I can.

Summary: When the Jabari rejoined Wakandan society, it would seem as if Bast was intent on keeping the tribes joined. M’Baku succeeds in capturing the heart and soul of Wakanda’s most sought after hidden light. Part storm, part flower, and some kind of wild woman, Qaqamba Bejide Achebe - Ramonda’s orphaned niece who grew up alongside the Udaku’s, yet as much out of the spotlight as possible - blooms under the affections of Hanuman’s chosen chief. There is a prophecy tied to the Achebe name - their daughters are said to be blessed by every goddess with a light and love like no other, something late King T’Chaka knew to be true - a prophecy that makes them as much of a target as their light shines. And she, is the last of their line with the gift, with the brightest light since the line began. Can M’Baku protect such a sacred light?

Warning: some violence, mentions of murder/death

Translations (via google translate):

nsọ ìhè - sacred light

umanyano oloyikayo - the sacred light union

It was the night of the joining festival, to commemorate the joining of both the Jabari and the Lost  Tribes back into Wakandan society. N’Jadaka was out of rehab and somewhat integrating into his new home, having been pardoned from creating a civil war due to winning the Waterfall Duel which was his birthright. He stuck close to Shuri until M’baku arrived and Shuri ditched them both. Little did those two know, they would soon be walking into an ancient battle for the right of a sacred light.

------

Earlier:

A frightening chill ran through Qaqambe as soon as Queen Mother and King T’Challa declared the beginning of the ball of nations. He was here. The man from her nightmares.

“Shuri, get aunt Ramonda quickly. They’re here,” she practically screamed into her kimoyo beads.

------

10 years ago

“Please! She’s still a child, let her grow into her own like her sister did.” Qaqambe’s mother, Sade  cried.

“She bleeds, that is growth enough for me to pluck my long awaited bud.” Adrian said.

“13 is not long enough! I beg of you, let me keep her for a little while longer! She deserves to be her own woman.” Sade said.

“Need I remind you of the outcome last time your family denied me my light?” he asked.

Sade vehemently shook her head and sobbed.

Adrian crouched down and spoke into Sade’s ear and said, “I have no quarrels getting rid of you to get to her. There is no one else left to keep her from me.”

Sade raised her head to look him in the eye and yelled her declaration, “That is what you think. She’s long gone and she will find her light keeper before you ever get the chance to lay a hand on her! You just wait, they will be the most formidable warrior on this continent, unwavering in their stand to be the shield of her light.” She laughed hysterically, scared of her certain death yet finding comfort in her dream of a fulfilled daughter with her destined to be.

Adrian stood up and sighed, straightening his unwavering cuffs.

“How unfortunate, I’d hoped to keep her from being orphaned…” he shrugged, “...have it your way.”

Adrian shot Sade in the head twice.

“Now you’re dead and I have to search all of creation for her. Such a pitiful sight, you could’ve been my mother had you ignored destiny and walked into the arms of fate. Now destiny’s got you dead.”

-------

Now:

Shuri rushed into her lab to find a frazzled Qaqambe pacing a hole into her floors.

“Mother is keeping an eye out at the party, if you stop your pacing you can help us find him much faster.” Shuri said.

“Find who?” N’Jadaka asked, startling both young women into head butting each other.

Shuri said, “Ow! Why are you sneaking around, cousin? Now you’ve caused not one, but two concussions at one of the most inopportune moments!”

N’Jadaka said, “It’s you who was sneaking around lil bit, we just followed you.”

“We?” Qaqambe asked as she locked eyes with M’Bkau, tilting her head back to take in his full glory as he and N’Jadaka walked up to Shuri’s station.

Suddenly, Qaqambe was no longer worried about her impending fate, for it seemed destiny had arrived in the nick of time.

“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of such a rare gem,” M’Baku said as he grasped Qaqambe’s hand and kissed the back of it.

“I-” Qaqambe was out of breath and words, unable to stop her body from responding to what she could only assume was what her ma and aunt told her about power of light keepers. She felt as if an inferno was lit the moment his lips touched her hand and spread to her entire body.

“M’Baku, Qambe. Qambe, M’Baku. Introductions made. Cousin, take him back to the party, we have urgent business to discuss,” Shuri rushed out, trying to guide the boys back to oblivion and Qaqambe back to their task.

M’Baku easily escaped her hold and ended up in front of Qaqambe again. “Whatever it is that is troubling you, let me help. And don’t you dare try to lie, I can see your light dimming in the face of darkness”

Qaqambe looked to Shuri for help, but her gaze was just as quickly pulled back to M’Baku, like a magnet. “Aunt Ramonda made us promise not to tell anyone outside the Dora what’s happening.”

“It sounds like he already knows with that last declaration,” Shuri mumbled.

“Just trust that it’ll help not hurt to tell us little one,” M’Baku tried again.

“I can show you better than I can tell you and it’s getting hard to hold it all in anyway,” Qaqambe said.

“Qambe no!” Shuri yelled as Qaqambe rolled her neck, opened her arms, and let loose the reigns on her gift.

Suddenly, lights of various colors burst from her, like an aurora light show escaping from her every pore. When she looked into M’Baku’s eyes it was like a supernova was activated, Qaqambe’s light erupted in a large flash before dimming and folding back into herself.

M’Baku, in awe, whispered, “nsọ ìhè, it’s real.”

-------

Meanwhile, Adrian was 75% certain that his little light was here in Wakanda when he arrived for the festival. He had spent the last decade tracking down Sade’s twin sister, Monda, who had disappeared with her light keeper around the same time Sade did with hers. Using records from before his birth to track down that who did not wish to be found presented as damn near impossible. Damn near.

Turns out that she changed her first name and secured a different last name by marrying. Too bad she married a man who’s responsibilities would put her in the spotlight. Thanks to his father and uncle’s drawings as well as the news of a newly opened Wakanda, he found her and had all the info he needed to infiltrate the party. Qaqambe’s light show gave him the confirmation and motivation he needed.

Slipping from the party virtually unnoticed was easy enough. It was figuring out his way through these halls to find the source of that flash oc light that was going to prove difficult. There were Dora Milaje stationed at the end of every corridor.

He didn’t need to worry since being so close to snuffing out Qaqmbe’s light seemed to strengthen his opposing power of darkness. Adrian slipped past the Dora with ease, able to become one with the shadows of the halls, letting them lead him to Shuri’s lab.

-----

“Aye! Who the fuck are you and what you doing so far from the party?” N’Jadaka yelled at an instantaneously appeared Adrian. Shuri had notified Queen Ramonda and the Dora while putting on her gauntlets and then pointed them at the intruder while M’Baku gently eased Qambe behind him. N’Jadaka picked up Shuri’s nearby disc blades and took up a similar stance to Shuri.

Adrian smirked, breathing in the fear his sudden appearance created. “Ahhhhhhh, it has been a long time since I’ve smelled such purity ready to be stripped.”

M’Baku growled deep in chest, reacting instead of thinking.

“Why don’t you come on out from behind this beast? Don’t you want to get acquainted with your betrothed?” Adrian said.

“My late mother and aunt told me of the forced betrothal alliance! You have no real claim to me,” Qaqambe said with tears in her eyes and voice.

Adrian spoke an unknown language, opened his hand and clutched into a fist. Qaqambe fell to the floor holding her throat as if she was choking. He said, “you will come with me, or I will do that to those you love,” and then he released her to gasp for breath.

M’Baku dropped to his knees beside Qaqambe and held her close. “We will fight him for your freedom, do not worry about us, you won’t have to go with him. I swear by Hanuman’s name, he won’t get your light.”

N’Jadaka and Shuri took a step forward as well as the Dora Milaje that was easing up behind him, but Adrian repeated the mantra and motion. Everyone except M’Baku and Qaqambe fell to the floor gasping for air.

A flash of confusion and fear flitted across Adrian’s face, which was long enough for M’Baku to charge at him. His hold on everyone broke as soon as he made contact, tackling Adrian to the ground like linebacker was his job title. When he wrapped his arm around Adrian’s neck and held him in place by his legs, Adrian started to go limp unable to combat such pressure and force without the use of his powers.

Qaqambe couldn’t let M’Baku take on such a burden as taking a life, especially not on her behalf. “M’Baku, no! Let him live. Do not stoop to his level.”

He loosened his hold, but didn’t let go completely, knowing that someone as conniving as Adrian would take her kindness for weakness and try to use it against them.

“Well what shall we do with him then? I won’t give him another opportunity to harm you.” M’Baku said.

Queen Ramonda walked in with her guards on her tail. “We’ll take away his chances of claiming her. M’Baku?”

“Yes, Queen mother?” he responded.

“Would I be wrong to assume that you are familiar with umanyano oloyikayo?” she asked.

M’Baku said, “No you wouldn’t. And if your next question is whether or not I am willing to participate in it with your niece, the answer is that I would be honored to be her light keeper...” M’Baku locked eyes with Qambe, “...if she’ll have me?”

Ramonda looked to Qaqambe who couldn’t stop crying watching their exchange. She nodded her head vehemently.

Ramonda signaled the Dora and Ayo stepped forward to handcuff and neutralize Adrian, allowing M’Baku to release him and make his way back to Qambe. N’Jadaka and Shuri stood down when he was secure.

Ramonda said, “All you have to do is promise to be her light keeper in your heart and mind as well as out loud, like a prayer, and you seal it with a kiss to her forehead.”

Adrian struggled uselessly against his restraints and guards. “No! She’s mine!”

M’Baku barked his signature Jabari grunt, silencing the interloper. He pulled Qambe to him by her hands until they were flushed against one another. He enveloped her in his arms, resting his hands at the base of her back and rested his forehead against hers, both their eyes closing in recognition of the sanctity of their last minute coupling. Once he spoke the prayer internally and externally, he sealed the union just as Ramonda had instructed. Qaqambe’s head tilted back, letting loose a wail of beautiful pain. Her light burst from her third eye first before it poured from her mouth as well until she collapsed into M’Baku’s arms with her light dancing around her like an aura.

“What in the 5th element just happened?” N’Jadaka asked.

“Much more than you were ever supposed to see nephew,” Ramonda said as she linked her arms with Shuri and N’Jadaka.

“Is Be gonna be okay?” he asked.

Ramonda looked back to the new couple as M’Baku trailed behind the group, refusing to let his eyes leave Qambe’s face for too long.

Ramona smirked and said, “She’s going to be just fine now.”

[lindwurmkai]

Let me tell you about our latest hyperfixation tho, since half of you are probably wondering wtf it is by now and why it has 15 different names,,

Well, first of all it's a mess. A glorious mess. Originally we just wanted to watch Reunion: The Sound of Providence (also known as The Lost Tomb Reboot) because we like the actor Zhu Yilong. We were vaguely aware of it being a sequel but had probably read reviews that proclaimed it newcomer-friendly (which is true).

No one warned us it was going to be like quicksand tho. Funnily enough there is literal quicksand in it but I'm saying once you've entered the rabbithole, good luck getting back out! Whoops

So basically there's this Chinese adventure webnovel series called Daomu Biji (or Dao Mu Bi Ji; DMBJ - Graverobber's Chronicles in English). It's extensive, with many sequels and prequels and extras. What we've been watching is ... a loosely connected collection of dramas based on various parts of this series, made by ever-changing teams in not even remotely chronological order. Since the original novels already had some continuity issues and each new adaptation may add random shit that wasn't in the novels at all, which the next one will then not follow up on because it's made by different people, the result is absolute chaos.

You just have to roll with it.

It's like, you're going to be very confused and will probably yell at the screen in frustration several times but you will also love it. I cannot explain this!!!

There are entire dramas that end on unresolved cliffhangers, the actors change constantly so it's hard to keep track of supporting characters, one of the directors truly tested our patience with his idea of pacing, multiple female characters are treated badly/fridged, there are too many fat jokes, and yet I am still here 💁🏻‍♂️

Regarding names: some dramas are known by two different titles because one's the "official" English title and the other a direct translation from Chinese or something. We tag everything dmbj plus whichever title we like best/makes the better acronym.

But what is it actually about?

Friendship. 😌

And tombs. So many ancient tombs. We've got mysteries both ancient and modern, conspiracies, giant snakes, deadly bugs, monsters, zombies (which are sometimes totally not zombies for censorship reasons), people with abnormally long lifespans, a ridiculous old white man villain, doppelgangers, an amnesia plot, the occasional weirdly compelling historical flashback...

Some of the female characters are good. An unlikely number of people are motivated by missing uncles and aunts. Who's stealing everyone's uncles and aunts? (Oh wait, that's actually sort of– ... never mind.)

But mostly, this is a tale of epic bromance. *wipes tear from corner of eye* Seriously though, I'll note that the dramas engage in a lot of, shall we say, fanservice. They knew people were shipping certain characters and dialled that up to 11. I have zero complaints. More Zhang Qiling screentime = A+ idea anyway. Thank you. I owe you my life,,

But regardless of whether you ship the 3 main characters (in any combination, top tier being all 3 together of course), watching their friendship evolve is just really moving, okay! And Reunion/Reboot gives us a whole damn found family of misfits :')

Wu Xie, the protagonist, is either an adorable fluffball bursting with compassion and curiosity or a seasoned adventurer with questionable morals depending on when you meet him, and it works. He's also a giant nerd.

At the start of his story, he keeps running into Professional Graverobber Wang Pangzi, soon to become his best friend and platonic life partner (or maybe...? 👀), as well as Mysterious Stranger Zhang Qiling, love of my life (and probably also Wu Xie's). My theory is that they grew attached to him because what is this adorable fluffball doing in a tomb, must protect. And then they were brothers~ 😭

In conclusion, I live here now and Zhu Yilong doesn't even know what he hath wrought.

[thenonbinarydetective]

The Flying Saucer Mystery

Hey do you like camping? Do you like aliens? Do you like treasure hunts? If you said yes to all three than this might be the game for you! @nancydrewnetwork

Inspired by The Flying Saucer Mystery(duh)

Mystery

Nancy and her friend’s all-expenses paid(by Carson Drew) camping trip is quickly derailed by rumors of strange encounters and long-lost treasure hidden deep in the Shawnee National Forest. Hopefully Nancy can solve the case before she gets abducted (and maybe she can have a fun vacation for once).

Friends

Ned Nickerson: Nancy’s boyfriend. Chemical Engineering major and star athlete at Emerson. This time he gets to help in person. His experience as a camp counselor and first aid will come in handy.

Bess Marvin: Longtime best friend and always reliable. She’s good at keeping the campers happy in tough times and knows more cutesy camp recipes than Pinterest. Actually, she might’ve stolen them all from Pinterest.

George Fayne: Other longtime best friend and outdoors enthusiast. She’s a useful friend to have both on the trail and for when your gadgets fail on you and you don’t know why. 

Burt Eddleton: Best friend of Ned. Biology major at Emerson who seemingly can’t choose what to focus on exactly. He knows a lot about both wildlife and plants. Pretty good athlete and pretty chill dude. Kind of a Himbo. Proud duck Dad (Don’t worry Sparkles is with a chickensitter).

Dave Evans: Other best friend of Ned. Archaeology major at Emerson. He knows a lot about artifacts or at least he’s mostly talking about artifacts because Bess gets freaked out by the skeletal side of his interests. Pretty chill guy also might play Wonderwall if presented with a guitar.

Suspects

Blake Wilkinson: Co-owner and head guide of Happy Trails Camping Company. She’s the trail guide helping the group get through this vacation. She seems nice enough but she is way too serious about her job. Well maybe not too serious. How else can you explain the buyout offer she’s hiding from Amani? What else could she be hiding?

Amani Wilkinson: Blake’s wife and other co-owner of Happy Trails Camping Company. She prefers nature over business. In fact, she doesn’t seem at all interested in the company (Does Blake know?). She’s happy enough to show you around the forest. Hopefully she doesn’t leave you all alone out there. Just kidding, she would never do that. Right?

Shay Hernandez: Assistant trail guide and aspiring park ranger. Or so he says. He claims to be a college student at a local university, but won’t say what his major is. That’s okay, maybe he’s still deciding. However, he talks a lot about science. Not just biology or even ecology like you might expect from someone who spends most of his time in the outdoors. He talks about computer science and robotics too. Is it just the sign of a budding scientific mind? Or is it a sign of something else?

Sonny Joon: Nancy knows Sonny’s here for the aliens, but does she really know him enough to say that’s the only reason why he’s there? Or is she in for another.....adventure with him? I’m sorry Sonny fans but it fits.

Soffi Ziririan: The only one of the campers (besides Sonny) that doesn’t know that much about the area. Again or so she says. She’s an avid hiker and outdoor enthusiast. She loves challenging herself with new challenges. Strangely, she didn’t give that much information to Blake or Amani when she signed up for the trip. She might just be a private person because that happens all the time... 

Kole Morse: He’s a local, so it’s strange for him to be going on a guided trail experience. He knows the forest like the back of his hand, so why is he here? He claims it’s just for fun, but no one knows for sure. One thing that is for sure is that Kole is a true environmentalists. He doesn’t believe in the aliens, he thinks all the sightings are fake and going to negatively affect the environment. He not too keen on “people who don’t truly understand the forest” being in the forest. Whatever that means. How far is he willing to go to protect what he refers to as ‘his forest’?

Joseph “Old Joe” Austin: Native American man from the local Shawnee tribe, One of the oldest residents from around Shawnee National Forest. He lives in a cabin with his brother Sam and his dog Trixie. He’s also a shoe-in for the friendliest resident of the forest award. He’s welcoming and kind to all the campers that come through. He says he’s given up on finding his father’s treasure. Or has he?

Samuel “Sam” Austin: Old Joe’s younger brother. Unlike his brother, he’s quiet and likes to keep to himself. Old Joe just says he’s shy. Really, Nancy figures out that he’s deaf. Luckily she remembers a bit of sign language and that online dictionary the Hardy Boys text is a great bonus. He’s actually trying to find his dad’s treasure again. Although he seems innocent enough, Nancy doesn’t know how far he’ll go to get his dad’s treasure.

Phone Friends

Frank and Joe Hardy: They were supposed to go on the trip with the group, but Frank broke his leg during their last mystery so Burt and Dave took their spots. They are super bummed. Luckily Nancy can call them so they can live vicariously through her.

Dagny Silva: There’s treasure, here’s Dagny. Not actually there because she has better more certain treasure to track down, but she owes it to Nancy to occasionally answer her phone.

Ranger Maia Chikovani: A ranger of the national forest, asked Nancy to figure out what’s going on. She believes in aliens, but is a bit more worried about the impact their UFO may have on the environment.

Locations

Forest Trails and Clearing: There pretty straightforward. Trees and plants and stuff. There’s quite a few different locations, but can all be summed up by this title. Nancy has a map to keep track.

River appears next to some of the trail but not all of them.

Old Joe’s Cabin: It’s where he lives with his brother and dog.

Swamp: Where the UFO has been spotted. Coincidentally, the treasure is rumored to be near this location

Treasure’s real location: It’s not actually near the swamp. This location is only revealed after Nancy figures it out.

Time

Day/Night cycle. Time keeps on moving so your week may be more than a week depending on how long it takes for you to solve it.

Transportation

Horseback riding: For longer distances along the trails

Walking: For shorter distances and areas that the horses cannot go. Also for like around the camp and stuff. Nancy’s not riding the horse for a week straight that would just be weird.

Puzzles/Mini Games

Pitching a tent

Fishing

Building a fire

Cooking camp meals

Roasting marshmallows and making the perfect s’more

Mushroom picking: I’m enby I can’t not include mushrooms.

Decoding/Solving the clues Old Joe and Sam’s father left for them: This is a series of different puzzles, all at different times and with different purposes. They all fall under the same category so they’re being lumped. I imagine they would be a mixture of logic and clues that you find about the two brothers and around the forest itself.

Opening the treasure box: Simply one of those weirdly over-complicated puzzle boxes that everyone seems to have. You know the type.

Fixing the radio: The radio gets trashed with the rest of the camp and it’s up to Nancy to fix it

Lockpicking other campers’ locked private possesion: The usual

Flying the Spaceship: After Nancy and Ned get trapped in the spaceship, Nancy needs to figure out how to fly it before they crash!

Alien Dream World: Nancy and Ned are transported to an alien world by the spaceship. It’s so amazing it’s like a dream.

Finding Arrowheads: there’s a few old arrowheads scattered around. They’re old and don’t belong to anyone (at least not anymore). Mostly collected for fun.

Second Chances

Riding your horse into the swamp: Why?

Drown in the swamp: At least the water’s warm....it’s not worth it

Radio explodes: You shouldn’t have connected those wires

Crash the spaceship: Should’ve used the turn signal

Bear attack: like the alien attack but with bears

Alien attack: like the bear attack but with aliens

Setting yourself on fire: Stop, drop, and roll!

Ate the wrong mushroom: you clearly picked a toadstool, not a mushroom. (It’s a joke don’t get technical lol)

Additional Features/Notes

This is only loosely based off Shawnee National Forest. I cannot guarantee the presence of small swamps or aliens. Also the pictures and everything might not be perfectly accurate. It’s just aesthetic, it doesn’t have to take place in Shawnee. I just needed a name. It can change.

Communication is different with Sam than with the other characters due to the fact that he is deaf. He uses sign language (that is automatically translated). Nancy’s speech is silent for his conversations, she’s using sign language too but you can’t see her hands (because you’re not really supposed to talk when you’re using sign language. Also Sam only “speaks” to people who can also use sign language.

Speaking of communication, I know we all like our phone friends, but cell signal is unreliable on this trip. Nancy won’t always be able to get in touch with her contacts so she’ll have to rely on her in-person friends. This time they can be assigned to certain tasks as well as provide hints. Everyone has their own specialized hints that the other characters won’t know a thing about.

Just for the sake of clarification, most people in the area do know about the treasure left by Mr.Austin. Most people don’t believe in it anymore, some believe that it belongs to the brothers (if it does exist), and other think it’s finder’s keepers.

P.S. Sorry for breaking Frank’s leg but Joe gets hurt the twice as much as he does so it’s only fair that he sometimes it’s his fault that they can’t go camping. tbh with their mysteries they camp like once a week, they have nothing to complain about.

(Forest UFO Mini Art Print by vectordreams)

[katehuntington]

Title: In Bad Waters - part five Word count: ±4250 words Episode summary: Still in possession of the Winchesters’ belongings, Zoë meets up with the hunters on her next case. When it turns out to be a little more complicated than anticipated, she accepts their help in order to make an important deadline. Part five summary: Sam tries to find out more about Zoë’s past, but when he meets up with his brother again, he never thought he would have to reveal his own. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Descriptions of domestic violence/child abuse. Drug use/addiction. Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures/resuscitation. Swearing, alcoholism. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Descriptions of torture and murder, drowning. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09​​ and @deanwanddamons​​. Thanks, girls!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E02 “In Bad Waters” Masterlist

     Paragould, Arkansas      June 16th, 2005 - Five months ago

     A shrill whistle reverberates over the training fields. Children stop in their tracks and run back to the teacher, bursting with energy.      “Alright! Good job, everyone! Red team wins!”            A woman, probably around her thirties, smiles as she is surrounded by her class. Like they always do after practice, they sit down on the grass in a circle, looking up at their teacher, waiting for her to give the cue to head off to the dressing rooms. The sun shines brightly and stands high in the blue sky, shining down on them. Birds chirp, hopping from branch to branch in the trees surrounding the fields, while the American flag flutters from the frontage of a school building.

     “Looking forward to summer break?” the teacher asks, laughing when her question is answered with loud enthusiastic cheer.      “Aren’t you even going to miss me?” she pouts.      “We’ll miss you, Mrs. Dawlson,” one of the little boys speaks up.      More kids agree with him, causing their supervisor to smile, humbled.      “I’m sure you will do fine at Oak Grove, Roy. You’re all going to middle school! Fifth graders already, my boys and girls are all grown up.” She observes her class, pride in her kind eyes. “I tell you what. Next Friday we are going to play lots of fun games, alright?”      The faces of the children light up and they happily beam at each other, already excited for next practice.      Their teacher lets them off the hook. “Be safe, off you go!”

     All get up and bolt for the dressing rooms, challenging each other to get there first. Some squeal and laugh as they play tag along the way. All but one. The joy disappears from Mrs. Dawlson’s face as she watches one of the girls, who slowly strolls back to school. Despite the warm weather, she’s wearing a long sleeved shirt and blue sweatpants.      Mrs. Dawlson sighs, clearly caring too much about her children to let this slip. “Laura?”      The little girl looks over her shoulder, her expression blank. She carries her long, chestnut hair in two braids, her bangs cover her eyes.      “Could you come here for a second?” Mrs. Dawlson asks, gently.

      Laura drags her feet with her head hanging down, like a dog who has done something wrong and is now called back to get punished. The teacher sits down on her heels to level with the little girl, making sure not to talk down to her. But Laura doesn’t look her in the eye and keeps staring at her feet.      “How are you doing, Laura?” she wonders, her voice friendly and calm.      “I’m fine, Mrs. Dawlson,” she replies, politely.      The coach hesitates for a moment, figuring out the best way to approach her pupil.      “Well, alright. But if there is anything you want to talk about, let me know, okay?”

      The young girl looks up and Mrs. Dawlson startles at what she sees. She can detect a dark bruise through her bangs, right above her left eyebrow. With her fingers, she carefully sweeps away Laura’s hair and reveals the injury underneath. Scared, the student backs out and turns her head away. Quickly, but without hurting her, Mrs. Dawlson grabs Laura’s wrist and pulls up her sleeve. What she sees then, would make everyone’s stomach turn; her entire arm is bruised.          “How did you get these?” Laura’s teacher questions, a bit firmer than before.      “I fell,” she lies.      “Tell the truth, Laura. Who did this to you? It’s alright,” Mrs. Dawlson tries to convince her.      “No one! Please don’t tell anyone!” The little ten year old begs as she pulls herself loose.      “It’s safe with me. I promise,” her teacher assures.      “No, I - I can’t,” Laura stammers.

     By now she’s crying. Big tears stream down her porcelain cheeks. It seems like she is going to cave in, but suddenly she turns around and makes a run for it. Mrs. Dawlson lets her go and straightens her back. With a sigh, the teacher places her hands on her waist and watches the girl leave the field.      Disapproving, she shakes her head and closes her eyes, swallowing thickly. “Poor girl…” she whispers to herself.

     Paragould, Arkansas      November 26th, 2005 - Present day

     It’s still early morning when Sam pulls over at 2310 West Kings highway and enters the parking lot of the Ramada Inn. He left Zoë still asleep; apparently she really needed her rest. Last night, he wondered what was going on in her head and what she’s been through, as he went over the database she developed during her years of hunting. He could tell from the file properties that she didn’t just accidentally stumble on a ghost and got curious. He doesn't know the entire story behind her possession, but something happened. Something bad.

     The first file was added over four years ago, containing information on a Diligo Vesco. ‘Diligo’ can be translated to ‘love’ in Latin, ‘Vesco’ meaning ‘eater’ in that same ancient language. A demon who served directly under the devil himself in the early years, one of Lucifer’s creations, if you believe the lore. Not your ‘casual’ black eyed rat from hell, like the ones Dad dealt with every so often. No, this one was much worse.

     The name fits, because that’s exactly what it does; it literally feeds on love, by possessing someone and slaughtering the host’s loved ones. The demon doesn’t just kill them, though. A Diligo Vesco is one of the most vicious and sadistic of its kind. It’s been reported to take its sweet time torturing the victims, before actually killing them. Sam found case reports in Zoë’s database that described the gory details. Limbs severed, organs ripped from bodies, missing parts of the brain. Arson, waterboarding, skinning, mutilation. Ways of torture he had never seen before. One of them was called Blood Eagle, where the demon would cut open its victim’s back, break all the ribs and twist them upwards, giving the poor soul ‘wings’.

     Since the beginning of time, these creatures are responsible for unexplainable and brutal murders within families and close circles. The Ade family murders in 1874, where the children were cut up and set on fire. The Green Family massacre in 1994, in which the mother of three slaughtered her children with an axe. These smart monsters play the game well, framing the vessel for the blood that the demon sheds.

     The Diligo Vesco is only able to show its true face when the host is physically close to someone he or she loves. Until that time it holds on like a leech. An exorcism would be the only way to spare the life of the possessed, but this is where it gets tricky; the demon can only be exorcised when it manifests. By the time a hunter picks up its scent, it is usually too late. Most of the time the damage is done and the thing is long gone. When it does come to driving out the demon, the host nor the exorcist rarely survive. Killing these demons is close to impossible without harming the person it's controlling. Yet this is what his father and Dean must have accomplished, since Zoë is still walking amongst them.

     Curiously, Sam had compared Zoë’s online database with his father’s journal, but the case happened to take place in a period of time from which a couple of pages of the book are missing. Zoë does not elaborate on the details of her own case either, but whatever happened, it triggered her to become one of the best hunters in the country. The list of creatures that she slayed after her possession is impressive. Zoë ended more supernatural spawn from Hell in the past four years than some hunters manage to kill in a lifetime.

     Still pondering over this newfound information, Sam gets out of his brother’s car. On his way over to Paragould, he and Dean talked about this new Sullivan girl. The youngest Winchester couldn't help but to be curious about her motives, her past. Dean doesn’t get why Sam even gives a damn. He said it’s none of their business and if Zoë doesn’t wanna share, why dig further and risk getting your eyes scratched out?

     While rummaging in his pocket, he enters the motel lobby and makes a left turn to the main corridor. The red carpet underneath his feet is stained and the wallpaper has come off at the corners, a sheer contrast to the Hampton Inn, where Zoë is staying. Here, the coffee machine in the hall spits out the most horrendous brew, they need a flashlight in the bathroom because the light is broken and the air conditioning sounds like a generator, but doesn’t actually do jack shit. But then again, he has a feeling that not even a freezer could have cooled down the rabbits inside of room 106.

     Just as he takes out his room key, he sees that he won’t need them; Dean is already at the door with the blonde he picked up the night before.

     “Call me,” she tells him, as she saves her number in his phone.      “I sure will,” Dean smirks.      They kiss once more. Both can barely keep their eyes off each other as the young lady parades away in last night’s clothes with a flustered grin on her face. 

     Sam passes her in the hallway and looks over his shoulder. He can see where Dean’s coming from; she’s beautiful. Dean has spotted the look upon his brother’s face, though.      “Forget it, tiger. She’s mine.”      “Had a good night?” Sam chuckles, hoping he will skip the details.      Dean yawns and saunters back into the room. “Did I have a good night? I barely got a chance to sleep.”      “Okay, already more than I wanted to know,” Sam cuts off, before Dean spills the goods.

     He follows his older sibling into the room, finding one bed untouched and the other a complete mess. An empty bottle of Sauvignon lays on the ground, while a dirty glass still stands on the cabinet next to a half a bottle of Jack Daniels. The window is wide open, the heavy curtains wave in the wind slightly, but despite the fresh air, the room still smells like sex. Seems like they had one hell of a party.

     “Let’s get going,” Sam announces.      Dean looks aside at his little brother, frowning. Since when is Sam the one who gives the orders?      “Already?” he replies, bummed, clearly hoping for a rendezvous.      “Yeah, I found our stuff,” Sam informs.      “Ah, so you found Sullivan,” Dean chuckless, raising his eyebrows.

     Sam huffs and rolls his eyes, but his older brother doesn’t pay attention to it, tipping over an empty bag which once contained potato crisps. Apparently he’s hungry.      “Yeah. It didn’t take me long to find her. Her bike was parked outside a hotel. She’s working a case,” Sam explains, acting casual, but Dean can’t help himself.      “If it didn’t take you long to find our shit, then where were you all night?”      Reluctantly, Sam sighs before he answers. No way in hell his brother is going to respond maturely to what he is about to say.  “I spent the night at her place.”      Dean laughs out loud, throwing his head back. “I knew it! You cheeky bastard!”      “Nothing happened, Dean,” Sam states with a tone.      “Oh, come on. Not even a little smooch?” he teases, but Sam denies.      “A look then? You know, one of those cheesy Notebook moments.”      But again, Dean’s brother shakes his head, although he can’t resist to comment on that. “You saw The Notebook?”      “Well... no. So I’ve heard,” the oldest corrects uncomfortably, quick to turn the conversation back around. “But let me get this straight; absolutely nothing happened?”      “That’s what I said,” Sam confirms.

     After opening a pizza box that - to Dean’s disappointment - is empty, he stops searching for food. Then he turns to Sam, who is clearly annoyed with the interrogation.      “Are your eyes fucked up?” Dean wonders in disbelief. “Honestly, I'm a little disappointed. I thought I taught you better than that. How can you spend the night with a woman like that without making a move?”      “That’s it. I’ve had it.”      Sam squares his shoulders and stares at Dean, furiously. His brother pissed him off, but Dean can hide his victorious grin. For weeks he has tried to push Sam over the edge, to trigger him to let it out. To yell, cry, take a swing at him if that was what his little brother needed to do to feel better. Anything to get him out of the dark hole in which he’s currently hiding up.

     “Did it ever occur to you that I might feel terribly guilty if I would just head off with some girl for a one night stand like you always do?!” the youngest of the siblings exclaims.      “I have no idea, Sam. You never talk to me about it, so how the fuck am I supposed to know how you feel?” Dean bounces back.

     “And you think it’s strange that I don't talk about what happened?! My girlfriend was murdered, Dean! I was going to ask her to marry me, for fuck’s sake!” He pauses, growing even more furious. “I had everything planned out! Law school, Jess, everything!”      By now Sam paces from one side of the room to the other, restless and upset.

     “You were gonna marry her, really? Sam, with your background the chances of the American dream coming true was close to zero. You should’ve known that,” his brother reminds him.      “I was just trying to move on, I was trying to be happy! And you know what? I actually was!” Sam halts in front of Dean and raises his voice even more. “I loved her, Dean! I still do and I can’t get her out of my fucking mind! She died because of me!”      Dean looks at his younger sibling, sympathetically. “Don’t do that to yourself, man. It’s not your fault she’s dead.”      “It is. I didn’t warn her about the danger out there!I lied to her--”

      Sam intends to ramble on, but Dean intervenes.      “- What makes you think that telling her the truth would have made a difference? Whatever killed Jessica, wasn’t just some ghost, Sam. Hey, listen to me.” The older brother grabs Sam’s shoulder and forces him to look down into his eyes. “That same thing killed Mom, and probably a whole bunch of other people. It’s powerful, and if Dad has trouble stopping it, no offence, but you wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

     “I’m not talking about stopping him at that moment, Dean!” Sam pulls himself loose and turns away.      An unpleasant silence fills the room as Dean waits for a follow up, but his brother doesn’t continue.      “What then, Sam? Talk to me,” he pleads.

     Again that silence. The younger Winchester doesn’t move and stares at the wall with his hands placed on his waist. He swallows apprehensively, his jaw tensed. Then Sam sighs and turns around for Dean to see his eyes glister.      “I could have prevented it,” Sam claims, his voice soft and broken now.      Dean observes him, thinking through his next question first before he shoots. He has a feeling there’s more to this than just guilt.      “How?”      Sam bites his lip and averts his gaze. Then, after a month of silence, Sam finally opens up to his brother.      “I dreamed of Jessica’s death, days before it happened.”

     Complete silence. While the air grows even thicker with tension, Dean stares at his brother, his eyes confused and stunned. Taken aback, he opens his mouth in order to respond, but can’t find the words he’s looking for.      “Y-you mean, as in… a vision or something?” he returns disbelieving, chuckling nervously.      Sam scoffs as he moves away, ready to leave this conversation already; he knew Dean would respond like this. “Never mind.”      But Dean doesn’t let it go. “You’re telling me that you actually saw Jess die, like she did, in a dream?”      His younger brother halts, turns back slightly and eventually nods his head. “I didn't think anything of it at first. I figured it was just a bad dream. Until…”

     He doesn't need to finish his sentence. Dean says nothing, instead he just stares at Sam. Several thoughts rage through his head. What the hell is going on with him? What the hell could this mean? Why the fuck didn’t he tell me this before? The sheer thought that something might be terribly wrong with his little brother, has his stomach in knots. This isn’t ordinary. In fact, this is as far from ordinary as a human can get. He is stunned and overwhelmed by the idea, but his own brother might actually be something a hunter would keep a close eye on.

     Sam swallows thickly, feeling exposed and embarrassed. “You’re looking at me as if you’re about to empty a bottle of holy water over my head.”      For a moment Dean glares at the flask on the table.      “Dude, you’re seriously considering?!” Sam shouts, frustrated.      “You wanna tell me that this is normal, Sam?!” Dean counters, raising his voice.      Sam shakes his head and turns around, already regretting that he brought it up.      “Why didn’t you tell me before?” the older brother questions.      “I don’t know,” Sam mutters, staring at the ground.      “You don’t know? You’re psychic, right?” Dean scoffs.

     The youngest of the Winchester boys grinds his teeth, but doesn’t say a word. The tension between the two of them is heavy and familiar; it feels the same as when they had the argument before Sam took off for college.

      “Anything else I should know, Sam?” Dean pressures, clearly worked up over this. “I don’t know, maybe you can stop bullets or run super fast.”      Dean steps to the other side of the room with his arms folded in front of his chest, making fun of the situation because he has no idea how else to deal with it.      Sam eyes him, following his movements. “Funny,” he snaps. “Mature, too.”      “It would explain a lot of things. The ‘S’ stands for ‘Sam’ and there’s your love for tights,” Dean provokes.      “Stop it,” Sam hisses, but Dean isn’t done.      “Can you fly? ‘Cause that would be fucking awesome.”      “Dean!” Sam warns mad.      “What?! Either I joke about it or I lose my fucking cool! Take your pick,” Dean returns.      “One way or the other, it doesn’t help!” the youngest exclaims. “You see? This is exactly why I didn’t tell you, Dean! I knew you would give me this kind of shit!”      “What did you expect? You kept this from me for over a month!” Dean brings to mind, hurt seeping past the words.      “I don’t have to tell you everything I go through. I don’t owe you that,” Sam makes clear, venom in his tone.      “And that’s where you’re wrong,” Dean turns to him, pointing his finger as he approaches his brother. “I am your fucking brother, Sam! So yes, you do owe me that!”

     Dean stares straight into Sam’s eyes, his head tilted slightly backwards to look at his younger yet taller brother. Sam can see his words struck a nerve.      “We used to tell each other everything. What happened to that?” Dean wonders.      “It left, along with me.”

     Sam breaks eye contact and walks past him. As Sam bumps his shoulder against his, Dean shuts his eyes and clenches his jaw.      “I know you’re pretty damn good at it, but don’t you walk away from me,” he threatens, not brave enough to turn around to watch Sam leave.      “Why wouldn’t I?” Sam tests, not impressed by Dean’s stern words.      “Because this is not something you can walk away from! When will that finally come to you? When you’re in, you’re in. There’s no way back when you know about the things in the shadows, especially not when you have fucking visions about it!”       Now Dean does turn to face Sam, who scoffs at the message. “So what then, huh?! You’re planning to hunt until you’re in a wheelchair?”       “No, I’m planning to hunt until I finish the job Dad left for us to do and along the way, I will kill as many sons of bitches as I possibly can. Saving people, hunting things, the family business.” He pauses, staring at his brother with fiery eyes. “I intend to prevent people from going through the same shit we’ve had to endure, and if I don’t succeed, I’ll die trying.”

     This time, Sam doesn’t have a counter ready. No stubborn remark, no smart answer, just silence. He’s not sure what to say to that. He has to admit, he respects Dean for his morals, his honor. It gets him thinking, too. About his own future, his own life. Because deep down he knows Dean is right. He can run from the supernatural all he wants, but it will continue to follow him, always and everywhere.

     “Why should we be the one to sacrifice everything?” Sam questions, less hostile than before.      “I don’t know,” Dean sighs. “It’s just the way it is. So we either feel sorry for ourselves, or we suck it up.”

     Sam nods, admitting, but not at all okay with the inevitable. He can never have the life he wishes for. There will always be more to hunt, more to kill; this is a never ending story. And even if he does turn his back on the business for good, will he be able to forget about Jessica’s death? Can he move on without scanning every street, expecting something out of the ordinary around every corner? Right now, actually getting his law degree seems impossible, but then again, maybe he was being naïve when he went to Stanford in the first place.

     “Shall we go?” Sam suggests.      Dean looks up at the defeated man. The peace has returned, but brought a sense of devastation along as well. Accepting his fate is hard on Sam, he understands that. So Dean decides they had enough arguments for one morning and lets it go. He got Sam to talk to him; one step at a time.      “Can’t we stay one more night?” Dean tries, carefully.      Sam frowns, but then understands his reason for hesitation.      “Denise”, he chuckles. “Or Demi? I’m not sure. Her name started with a ‘D’.”      Dean’s typical grin appears on his face again, his eyes still soft, though.

     “Listen, man. I’m not pushing you to hook up with some chick just to mess you up, okay? At some point it’s gonna be time to move on, and I just figured a girl might help with that,” Dean lets him know, somewhat apologetic.      Sam eyes at his brother for a little while with an expression saying something in the line of ‘yeah right’. After a moment of who-gives-up-glaring-first, Dean caves.      “Alright, I wanted to piss you off so that you would get it out of your system,” he admits.

     The corner of Sam’s mouth twitches upward; he knew it. He’s not mad at Dean for playing that card, though. His older brother means well and he actually feels a little better now that he told him what is going on.      “Seriously, man. Talk to me when something’s up,” Dean underlines.      Sam responds with a nod of the head, then he gathers his stuff, apparently intending to leave.      “Ah, come on. One night,” Dean begs.      “There’s something ripping out hearts down in Texas, described by locals as ‘possibly coyotes’,” Sam offers.      Dean rubs his unshaven chin and thinks it over.      “Awesome werewolf hunt or awesome sex? Tough one,” he ponders.      Sam can’t help but smile and waits for the final call.      “Alright, let’s hunt some wolf,” Dean gives in. “Do you need to change in a phone booth before we go?”      Sam gives him a death-stare once again, but his brother keeps a straight face.      “No?” he checks, teasing.

     Dean can’t wipe the comical smirk off his face and so Sam shoves his brother towards the door, triggering him to let out a laugh. Before he follows, the younger Winchester feels his pockets for his phone and freezes. Unpleasantly surprised he looks around.      “Lost something?” Dean wonders.      “I think I left my Blackberry at Zo’s,” Sam realizes.      “Naturally,” Dean chuckles, failing to believe he didn’t leave it there on purpose.      “Would you quit it already?!” Sam returns, feisty.      “Okay, I’ll stop,” Dean promises. “We need to score some food anyway, I’m hungry.”      “There’s a In-N-Out a block from Zoë’s hotel,” Sam mentions.      Dean’s eyes light up, imagining the food in front of him already. “A Double-Double it is.”

     Sam grins as Dean picks up a small duffel containing only the few things they carry around at the moment. He follows Sam outside, who locks the door behind them. A quick bite before they leave another town and move on to the next. They never stay long, but the last two stops have been extremely short. Dean likes Denise, or whatever her name is, yet he has never been the guy who sticks around long enough to get serious with a girl. To be honest, a wolf hunt already sounds more fun than doing the girl he already did last night. After that shapeshifter drama, and now this newfound information about Sammy, he’s up for something equally exciting and distracting. Dean is sure of it; Texas, here they come.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read chapter six here

[recentanimenews]

OPINION: My Favorite Anime of 2020 Are All Music Videos

Image via ZUTOMAYO

  Despite the enormous pressures of COVID-19, 2020 has had its share of anime classics. Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken! is a stone-cold classic to the degree it now feels as if it’s always existed. Decadence channeled the creative spirit of 2000s-era Madhouse into an off-kilter riff on dystopian science fiction and Pixar movies. Akudama Drive, now in its second half, continues to translate the bonkers, heartfelt pulp style of Danganronpa creator Kazutaka Kodaka to TV anime. There have been big successes in film, as well — Demon Slayer Mugen Train scored the highest opening weekend box office in Japanese history, while folks I follow on Twitter are excited for the new Bones film Josee, the Tiger and the Fish.

  One of my favorite anime projects this year was something completely different. It’s "Gotcha!," a short Pokemon-themed music video directed by Rie Matsumoto and her friends at Bones. A sequence that takes all of Matsumoto’s strengths — her attention to detail, the way she depicts exciting and supernatural things bursting out of the walls of our ordinary world, and her obsession with cramming every layer of the screen with stuff — and turns them with the precision of a laser toward celebrating the series’s near 25-year history. As encyclopedic as a Pokedex despite being only three minutes long, it’s a glorious celebration of a series loved and made by passionate fans. 

  Image via Pokemon Official YouTube Channel

  But "Gotcha!" wasn’t even the only fantastic music video made by former employees from the historic studio Toei. Earlier this year, animator Koudai Watanabe collaborated with the talented Naoki Yoshibe — director of the opening sequences for Gatchaman Crowds — to create a music video for ZUTOMAYO titled “STUDY ME.” It’s a rich purple-and-green media landscape of TV screens, glitches, Undertale references, and desperately reaching hands, packed with enough wild ideas and visual iconography to fuel an entire season of anime. But it wraps up in just under five minutes.  You’re left watching the video over and over again in a daze, trying in vain to catch every little detail.

  The animated music videos being made right now represent the most slept-on creative success in modern anime production among English language fans. (That’s music videos that are animated, not AMVs! You could write an entirely separate article on those.) I need to qualify “slept on,” since hardcore animation nerds like Yuyucow and Catsuka have been stumping for these works over the past several years. There are viral successes like "Gotcha!" and the inevitable crossover that happens when an artist doing the theme song for an anime leads others to check out their back catalog of past videos. But on websites and in magazines, I see stories about Netflix’s aggressive production of new TV series, the renaissance of Japanese anime films after Your Name, and bemused reactions to the shocking popularity of Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba. Talk about the newest music videos online is a lot rarer. Not to mention older videos. "Gotcha!" may have broken out as a celebration of a popular game series, but its predecessor — a Lotte chocolate commercial produced by much of the same staff — is just as good!

  Image via ZUTOMAYO

  "Gotcha!" isn’t 2020’s only spiritual successor to excellent early work, either. In 2013, Yoko Kuno produced the video "Airy Me" as part of a graduate assignment. Set to a song by Cuushe, it’s a hallucinatory epic that’s both starkly horrifying and bittersweet. In the years since, Yoko Kuno’s made a name for herself across several mediums — winning the New Face Award for her manga work at Japan Media Arts Festival, serving as a pinch hitter on Orange’s production of Land of the Lustrous and contributing a memorable sequence to Beastars. She returned this year with filmmaker Tao Tajima to produce another sequence scored to Cuushe’s music, Magic. Riffing on Airy Me's themes of bodily transformation and human ennui, it sets the action against real photographic landscapes. It's another haunting masterwork by one of anime’s most multitalented young artists and has been on repeat for me since it came up on my Twitter feed.  

  Image via FLAU

  Meanwhile, the Japanese vocalist Eve continues to commission new and excellent animated work based on his songs. This May saw the release of "How to Eat Life," a video by indie animator Mariyasu which repurposes Eve’s unique symbology of surly adolescents and freaky puppet monsters into a stylish and spooky carnival of carnivorism. It’s an excellent piece that stands tall among the work collected under Eve’s banner, many of which are stone-cold classics themselves. But "Promise," released at the end of this October, threatens to outdo them all. Directed by Ken Yamamoto and produced at Cloverworks, it plays as another greatest hits compilation of Eve’s works — broken promises, collapsing cityscapes, creatures powered by feeling that shake the earth with their footsteps. There’s a real visceral punch to it that beats out even its excellent predecessors. When the protagonist folds over himself in anguish, you feel it in your gut. When he steps deep into the water and the entire world around him is shredded into pieces, anyone who’s ever been a teenager knows exactly how that feels. When his friend reaches in and pulls him out of that water, that’s real joy rising like bubbles through your veins.

  Image via Eve

  Ken Yamamoto’s a bit more mainstream than Mariyasu — just last year he contributed some face-melting action sequences to Fate/Grand Order Absolute Demonic Front: Babylonia. But it says something to me that "Promise" — maybe his best work yet — was released as a music video rather than a new TV series. He’s not alone, either.  This August, the animator China (storyboarder for Encouragement of Climb’s third season) together with character designer Mooang (storyboarder for Sarazanmai) produced the music video "Sore wo Ai to Yobu dake." Like the reverse of Yamamoto’s "Promise," it’s the story not of a pair of teenage boys and their separation that devastates a cityscape — but of a pair of teenage girls who reach across time to recover the bond they shared in their high school days. A potent combination of FLCL-style faded nostalgia, careful attention to body language, and pure patented kids-falling-through-the-sky-while-frantically-reaching-for-each-other anime magic, it’s one of the best-animated sequences of this year. I’ve linked it to friends just to plead “Watch this thing!” And it ends in less than four minutes long.

  Image via Mafumafu

  I can’t help but think: Where is China and Moaang’s movie project? Where is Ken Yamamoto’s TV series? Why is it that Rie Matsumoto has produced two excellent music videos over the past two years that commemorate big franchises, but her rumored film project has yet to lift off? Perhaps the truth is that there isn’t room anymore in the TV anime industry for work like this. Many original projects seem to be tied to cellphone games or stage productions. Projects like Decadence are few and far between, and even those that exist play within a space already laid out by past successes. It’s not all bad, of course — Eizouken this year was a great example of an adaptation working in harmony with its source material. And we’ve seen studios like Orange employ weirder anime creators like Yoko Kuno or the stop-motion team dwarf to great effect in their projects. But perhaps animated music videos represent the future for artists like Matsumoto — a medium that pays well, rewards experimentation, and lets strong artists play around without having to dilute their style. A bite-sized format just outside of the soul-draining churn that defines the industry.

  Maybe this is fine, though. Short-form work is just as worthy of admiration as long-form work. I’d love feature-length projects from Ken Yamamoto or China, and I’d love for the world to see another Rie Matsumoto story told on a grand scale. But I can’t deny that Matsumoto rocks at putting together fantastic music videos and that I might even prefer the concise flow of "Gotcha!" to her TV series output. Either way, in this historically difficult year, I’m grateful to these folks for turning in career-best work and giving me hope for the future.

  Do you have a favorite animated music video? At the risk of getting off track, do you have a favorite anime music video? Do you still watch different fan edits of Hatsune Miku and wowaka's "Rolling Girl" on rotation, like I do? Let me know in the comments!

      Adam W is a Features Writer at Crunchyroll. When he isn't rewatching his favorite anime OPs over and over, he sporadically contributes with a loose coalition of friends to a blog called Isn't it Electrifying? You can find him on Twitter at: @wendeego

  Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

By: Adam Wescott

[dustedmagazine]

Sporae Autem Yuggoth — The Plague of the Aeons (Personal Records)

The Plague Of The Aeons by Sporae Autem Yuggoth

While The Plague of the Aeons, the new LP by Chilean death-doom band Sporae Autem Yuggoth, is unlikely to convince anyone who isn’t already game for a half-hour of rotten riffing and gastric laments, the record manages to successfully synthesize two long-standing obsessions in this sort of music: the cultic devotion to Tony Iommi’s guitar tone and mode of playing, and the whackier, more worrisome worship of Yog Sothothery, the Cthulhu myth system and cosmology. The supplication to early Black Sabbath is pretty self-evident: just press play. The lauding of Lovecraft is a little less explicit, but there’s no mistaking it once you see and hear it. Indeed, the band’s name looks like a rough Latin translation of Fungi from Yuggoth (1930), the sonnet cycle (yep) in which H.P. Lovecraft first refers to the distant planet Yuggoth—but you’re on your own with scanning the sonnets, and with investigating that fungus. For sure, the Chilean freaks in the band seem to have been infected by its spores, and judging by all the moaning and groaning, the results don’t sound like much fun at all.

For listeners of the music, the scenario may be a bit different. Turns out that this record provides a fair amount of weirdo pleasure, if you can access whatever may be “fun” in its spasms and reverberations. Opening track “The Malignant Observer” is more tuned in to the bluesy boogie of Sabbath’s “Into the Void” than the lumbering horror of “Iron Man.” That’s a counterintuitive move for a death-doom record to make, and The Plague of Aeons is better for it. Not that the song is going to make you want to actually get up and boogie. Sporae Autem Yuggoth’s music is more suited to the cough-syrup-and-Klonopin set than it is to folks who want to do shots of SoCo and rawk. But the band writes songs and riffs with a glacial sense of groove. That’s apt: Lovecraft positioned Yuggoth way, way out at the cold edge of space. It would take a really, really long time to get there. And the record gets more cosmically strange the further along you go. (You can insert your own joke about “Sweet Leaf” here.)

Still, The Plague of Aeons is a death-doom record. The vocals of Patricio Arraya complicate any gestures toward conventional melodic pleasure made by the riffs. His voice isn’t as awful as some in the genre, sounding more like a bullfrog with a sinus condition than a bull with twisted gut. But because of Sporae Autem Yuggoth’s subgenre loyalties and their allegiance to the Great Empire of Slime, Arraya’s vocal stylings are inevitable. Of course, as is the case with any doom-related music, the riff is the thing (and the real king), and guitarists Juan Drey and Jose Gallardo deliver. The slowest song on the record, appropriately titled “Crawling towards the Tyrant,” features the players in compelling interplay, deliberately increasing the riffing’s intensity for most of eight minutes, to the track’s crescendo. It’s not until the closing song, “Cathedral of the Abuser,” that the players really let loose, breaking into a mid-tempo stomp, soloing a bit and then sprinting (or at least galumphing) for a Big Finish.

The guys in Sporae Autem Yuggoth don’t seem to be interested in breaking new ground. They’re not even the first metal band to get to Yuggoth: see the musical adaptation of the sonnets by Foetor (if you must) and Electric Wizard’s canonical “Weird Tales” on Dopethrone. Lovecraft was a political reactionary, and metal this backward looking can get snared in a similar sort of unpleasant cleaving to “traditions” of various sorts. But this record is appealingly committed to its obsessions, and it sort of … pulsates with the players’ passions. Just try not to get any fungal yuck on you.

Jonathan Shaw