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linkspooky · 4 years ago

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The Todorokis and the Shimuras...

The Shimura family is the set up for how we are supposed to judge the Todorokis. They were the original broken house that fell apart. Everything in Shigaraki’s flashback, informs Dabi’s flashback later. We see the same abusive dynamics repeating again and again, and yet nobody learning from them. @logicalbookthief wrote almost a week ago and it turned out to be near clairyvoyant to this weak’s chapter.

Interesting that Dabi, Shigaraki and Toga all internalized the idea they’re “bad” or “not good (enough)” as children. Interesting how rather than discouraging this idea, the adults around them reinforce that they don’t deserve the care a “good” or “perfect” child would be entitled to, by seeing their pain and doing nothing to help.

Shigaraki and Dabi are established as foils precisely because, they ar both children who, literally no matter what in their household, kept trying to be good heroes. However, every adult around them treated them like they were the problem, that they were at fault for what went wrong in the household, no matter how hard they struggled to be good they were labeled as “bad children.” They’re the scapegoats of their household, and as they grow into adults they become the scapegoats of society. “Do you really want to be a hero?” is asked to both Shigaraki and Dabi, they can’t be seen as good

Because it’s easier to divide between good children and bad children, good victims and bad victims, then for the adults to actually try to fix their mistakes. That would mean admitting that they might be the problem too. In order to enforce this, they even lift up other children as “good children” creating golden childs, and because they didn’t react as strongly to the abuse then it puts Tenko and Toya as the ones to blame for not trying to be good enough. It’s Toya’s fault he became a villain, unlike Shoto who tried to be the hero of his family despite all of his abuse. Toya must have never really wanted to be a hero in the first place.

1. Tenko and Toya were good boys

If Tenko and Toya were not forced to carry the blame for how their household went wrong. If one actually looked at them as children, it’s easy to notice what good children they were, actually.

When Kotaro punishes Tenko for playing hero again he assumes he was just not listening to his rule, and trying to cause trouble. However, when Nao asks him why he was doing it, we learn his motivation, Tenko didn’t want two bullied kids to be left out.

Tenko is five, so he doesn’t really have like a developed personality yet, but a lot of the positive qualities Shigaraki displays as an adult are all their.

Tenko always follows his own dream, no matter how much the adults around him try to discourage him. His desire to be a hero is that strong. He has the same quality that Deku is constantly praised for.

Tenko is also, extremely emotionally intelligent. He realizes that his father is the one in the wrong for always picking on him, and that his parents are siding with his father and not him by reassuring him of his father’s good intentions. Your father has a reason for always forbidding you to be a hero. Your father means well. Everyone puts, Kotaro’s good intentions, and Kotaro’s well being over Tenko’s. It’s Tenko’s fault for provoking him, it’s Tenkos’s fault for not giving up on his dream of being a hero.

It’s interesting how Tenko and Toya almost come from seemingly opposite households. Tenko comes from a friendly household where he has an extremely close relationship with his sister, where his grandparents are almost always comforting him and doing fun things with him, and yet he still feels smothered by it all because nobody wants to tell Kotaro off, so his emotional needs are neglected. Tenko spends a lot of his time with his family, Toya spends time mostly isolated from his mother and father and yet, they both feel rejected fundamentally from the household dynamic.

It’s because no matter what at the end of the day they are the scapgoat for their household, it doesn’t matter what Tenko and Toya’s actual emotions and intentions are, because they’re perceived as thebad ones. We as the audience see Tenko’s sensitivity, his care for others, his desire to be a hero, but his family labels him as a troublemaker for... having the same dream every other five year old kid his age as. Tenko and Toya aren’t really allowed to make mistakes, or be wrong about things like normal kisd would because they’re not really normal kids, they’re “the problem child” or the “problem” of the household.

It’s not just that Tenko was abused, it was that he was abused in front of everybody, and not a single person tried to help.

He could have stopped if anybody in his family did anything but watch, but in that moment they didn’t. Of course it’s hard to stand up to an abuser, that’s only human, but not only did they leave Tenko to cry alone afterwards, they also created the atmosphere where Kotaro was constantly apologized for, and Tenko was constnatly blamed, which eventually led up to this.

Tenko is not a bad child, Tenko is five. The story repeats for Toya, I don’t think the adults around him realized what an amazing child Toya was.

He’s just as hard working as any other kid at UA. Isn’t that the motto? Plus Ultra? Always put the effort in and be willing to break yourself to be the best. That’s what Bakugo is taught, that’s what Shoto is taught later on. They always have to be willing to push themselves to their limits and surpass it.

Yet, for doing what any other kid did, Toya is punished. It’s not his father’s fault, it’s Toya’s, because Toya just can’t give up. Literally nevermind his fact that Enji taught him to think this way, that literally every other kid his age is taught to push themselves to be a hero, no it’s just something wrong with Toya. Toya’s the one who won’t give up, and there’s nothing Enji can do to make him give up.

Let’s ignore the fact that Enji is also. you know, a liar. Having more kids to replace Toya isn’t for Toya’s sake, it’s for the sake of Enji’s dream. Enji doesn’t do what’s best for Toya’s welll being like ever, he gives up on Toya because Toya won’t surpass all might so it’s pointless, he continues making kids until he gets one with the quirk he wants, because, that’s what his goal is. Enji’s goal was never to have a family or be a father, it was to get an heir with an ideal quirk.

Yet, Enji is given the benefit of the doubt that he’s doing this for Toya’s sake, and Toya isn’t. Toya is just the proble child causing disruption in the household. It’s Toya who won’t give up on the training.

Except once again, by seeing Toya as the bad child they’re missing out on what a good child Toya is. Look how hard he tries, look how he doesn’t give up, even when everyone around him tells him his dream is impossible he keeps on struggling agaist impossible odds. Is it wrong for a disabled person to want to run a marathon? Is it wrong for a person in a wheelchair to want to play basketball? Yes, Toya’s quirk may have gotten in the way of him being a hero, but there were ways Enji could have accomodated his disability, supervised him, taught him how to become a hero without hurting himself.

Except, Enji was never ever interested in any of those things. Enji didn’t care about Toya’s dream. Enji didn’t even care about Toya besides the fact that Toya could be made to carry his own dream.

Toya’s extremely hardworking, dedicated, and also intelligent as well. When he was a kid he was capable of comprehending that it was wrong of him to attack Shoto. He realized that in the household he was being abused. A thirteen year old was even capable of understanding that Enji SHOULDN’T be able to get away with what he’s doing.

Like everyone goes on and on about what Toya says about his sister and his mother this chapter, but no one mentioned the fact that Toya was right. Toya had the correct political take. An abuser should not be allowed to keep his job as a hero like this if he’s going to treat his family this way. Just like a hollywood producer who abuses women shouldn’t be allowed to keep their job if they’re using it to take advantage of others.

Toya confronts his mother for the fact that she’s failing him as a parent as well. That’s not Toya being misogynist towards Rei, he’s telling her the truth and holding her accountable. Yes, Rei is also a victim, but Toya is thirteen he doesn’t understand that. All he understands is that he’s being neglected by both parents. I mean, look at how Rei sees Toya. Look at how the scene is framed visually. This is Rei’s flashback of Toya it seems like.

She paints him like an incrediblly disturbed child. As if Toya is the disturbance in the household. As if he’s the bad one. As if he’s the one causing the problem. As if, if he just gave up his dream of being a hero then everything would be better.

Ignoring the fact that, Toya would still be an abused child even if he didn’t react the way he did. If Toya was quiet. If Toya shut up. He’d still have grown up with zero parenting at all. Enji still would have gone on to abuse Shoto. Look at Toya’s reaction in his eyes. Look at the way his pupils shake. He’s being told that if he just gave up his dream of being a hero, the household will be happier, but he knows that’s not true. Toya knows the problem in the household is Enji. If Toya gave up his dream of being a hero, he’d still be a deeply unhappy individual, he’d just be suffering more quietly. The household would still be an abusive one. Toya in the end, still won’t be parented properly, because, Rei and Enji don’t see Toya as a kid.

Literally all Enji had to do was lift up a finger. All he had to do was walk up to the mountain and talk to him, and he couldn’t even be bothered to do that. Toya was trying so hard to be good, to meet his parents standards, and yet he never would because his parents standards were impossible to meet in the first place.

“Well, gosh I didn’t know what to say to him it would have been hard.” Yeah, I bet it was hard when he LITERALLY BURNED ALIVE.

It’s not just the one incident of this though. Enji and Rei both frame it as an oopsie daisy. If only he had been stopped on that one day. And not like, the five continuous years of ignoring him that built up before that point. The fact that he was never really taught how to handle his emotions in a healthy way, because neither of his parents treated him as a child.

However, the narrative of the scapeogat and the good child still remains. Despite the fact that Toya and Tenko were children trying so hard to be good, and all they needed was someone to tell them that.

When all they wanted was for people to see the good in their own actions, to see how much they were trying, struggling, to be good, because they are the scapegoat they will always be the villain of the family.

I think it’s amazing that Toya is trying to be good even now. Toya, unlike Enji who only ever cared about the number one spot, is interested in creating a world where heroes are actually taken to task and treated as heroes. Shigaraki cares about people who were similiarly rejected to him, and offers them a helping hand.

Shigaraki and Dabi are capable of so much good. They still care about the world. They’re still trying to create a world better to others than it was to them. Shigaraki’s goal even shifts from empty destruction, to just, I want to give a world to my allies where they can be free.

Instead of seeing them as victims, they divide victims into good and bad. Shoto is the hero of the family because look how good he turned out even though he went through the same thing Dabi did.

Is Rei wrong for focusing first on stopping Dabi rom hurting innocent people rather than focusing on getting him the help he needs.

Well, you think Rei would know. That people who come from abusive households. People who are constantly abused. Can lash out and abuse completely innocent people. I’t almost like that’s exactly what she did to Shoto, blaming him and burning him instead for what Enji did. And it’s almost like Rei didn’t start to improve until she received outside medical help.

Heroes pretend to protect society, while turning a blind eye to those who they can’t save, who are most in need of their help. They blame bad victims, and uplift good victims to use an example against the bad victims, well why couldn’t Toya have turned out a good child like Shoto.

Man.

It’s almost like. Shoto didn’t burn to death. Because Enji couldn’t be bothered to walk up to a mountain. It’s like letting a child starve to death and then saying “Well, why didn’t this child learn how to cook?”

They divide the good and the bad and throw the bad out. Well, isn’t it a tragedy that Toya became Dabi. Isn’t it just a tragedy that that child couldn’t be saved. It’s not the five years of neglect, it’s the one day on the mountain that was the turning point for that.

It looks like on the surface that Toya’s family is admitting what went wrong, but they’re really kind of not. Toya doesn’t need to be fought as a villain. Toya doesn’t ned to be stopped. Labeling bad victims as villains and putting them down with violence literally never helps, because that’s thementality that created them in the first place. It was Toya’s behavior that needed to be stopped, he was the thing in the Todoroki household, that made everything else go wrong. If only Toya had not died, then Enji wouldn’t have abused Shoto so hard EXCEPT WE ALREADY KNOW THAT WAS ENJI’S INTENTIONS ALL ALONG FROM THE START. If Toya had lived Enji would have kept on doing whatever he wanted with Shoto, because no one in that house was going to hold him accountable.

Even now, Enji gets the unconditional support that Toya deserved as a child, that he needs now, just because he happens to be a hero. Certain people are labeled as heroes, certain people are labeled as villain. Good victims are saved and given the support they need, bad victims are violently put down.

Even Natsuo says this, that he should have just told Toya to stop complaining about the family.

But aren’t the things the villains saying you know right? That Enji should not be allowed to keep his job. That Enji abused his whole family. Wht would have been different if Natsuo and Toya had their talks? Toya would still be a severely abused child who carried that abuse into adulthood, but he wouldn’t be making a fuss about it? He wouldn’t be loud about it?

It’s suppression over recognizing the victim’s pain. It’s blaming the victims without looking at the cause. The Todoroki family set up Shoto as the hero responsible for saving the whole family because he is the good victim, and as a indirectly, they imply that Toya is the villain in need of stopping.

Once again I return to both the Todorokis and the Tenkos. By refusing to see the good in their children, to see that Tenko and Toya were just children who wanted and tred their best to be heroes and were unfairly punished for it, they ultimately suffocate both children. By labeling them as deviants who need to be stopped rather than victims who they abused, they just, keep suffocating them.

Which is why no matter how much Toya or Tenko may love their families, no matter how much they may sympathize and love their mothers, they still feel denied, suffocated by the whole family. Because their whole family fails to see their good intentions, fails to see who they are as children. They can’t see how much they genuinely wanted to be a hero, and they can’t see how much they were suffering as well, because they’re not good children they’ve alraedy been labeled as bad ones.

That’s why they ask over and voer again, do you still want to be a hero?

When all they needed to be told was it was possible for them to be a hero. When that was all they needed to hear, they were rejected instead. That’s why they can’t go back either, because they know after all this time their family still doesn’t understand. They’ll be rejected all over again.

And the scapegoat will remain a scapegoat forever.

#mha meta #shigaraki tomura #shimura tenko #todoroki toya #dabi #todoroki family #shimura family #todoroki #shimura #bnha 302 #bnha spoilers #bnha 302 spoilers

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actofscoobris · 3 years ago

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Scooby-Doo

Original release date: June 14, 2002

Date watched: March 13, 2022

Runtime: 86 minutes

Synopsis: In the gang’s theatrical and live-action debut, they actually split up after the opening sequence. Two years later, they’re all invited to Spooky Island by an eccentric billionaire, who wants the gang to solve the mystery of the brainwashed tourists. Turns out, demons used to live on the island, and are seeking vengeance on the resort for displacing them. (For a movie filmed on location in Australia, they maybe should have considered the subtext of that a bit more.) After some body-swap shenanigans, Scrappy-Doo is revealed as the orchestrator of all this, because he was jealous of everyone else’s fame and recognition. He tries to use the souls of everyone trapped on the island to become a powerful monster, but it doesn’t work and he is arrested and, I guess, sent to the pound? How do you incarcerate a CGI dog?

Culprit: Scrappy-Doo piloting an eccentric billionaire body double robot. I can’t think of a precedent for something like this, and it really speaks to the unique place the Scooby-Doo franchise in pop culture. You have a character introduced in the late 70s to save ratings, who featured prominently in almost every piece of media through the 80s. He’s virtually unseen in the 90s, until later in the decade when the only time he’s mentioned is to be made fun of. Then they make him the antagonist of the franchise’s theatrical and live-action debut? They really stacked the deck against my guy Scrappy-Doo.

Guest star(s): Rowan “Mister” “Bean” Atkinson as the eccentric billionaire whose name I don’t feel like typing. Also Pamela Anderson is there?

Trivia: James Gunn wrote the screenplay for both this and the sequel. Go figure.

Ratings:

Spookiness: As this is a feature film, we have a little bit more insight than usual into the creative process. Apparently, the first-draft demons were scarier than the ones we ended up with. Would love to see whatever they looked like. As it stands, I’d say the scariest part of this movie is Scrappy-Doo’s grotesque transformation sequence near the end. It’s tough to stomach. That’s about as spooky as this one gets. MARINA: 2.5 LAURA: 2.5

Characterization: The revelation of Matthew Lilliard as Shaggy is one that would pay dividends for years to come. Hell, they eventually just let him start voicing Shaggy. It rules. The rest of the cast is good, although they’re limited by how the script sets up their characters. I get it, they’re tropey and one-note on purpose. It’s camp. But if the most fleshed out original character is rich Mr. Bean, we gotta get some more substance for the gang. MARINA: 3.5 LAURA: 4

Overall: This is a movie that is a product of its time. There is a farting sequence that lasts upwards of thirty seconds. The producers did not think about the optics of having an elaborate tribal-themed ritual on location in Australia in a movie about demons being mad that tourists have infiltrated the island that has been their home. On the other hand, OutKast is on the soundtrack for this movie. They kept some of the weed jokes in. This one breaks pretty even. MARINA: 3 LAURA: 3

Outlandishness: The fact that this is a live-action movie does not stop the outlandishness pile from getting taller. We get a body-swap sequence. We get a grotesque CGI Scrappy-Doo transformation sequence. Shaggy’s love interest is named Mary Jane. I have to dock this movie some points for “what could have been,” as the deleted scenes are all very good, and the original cut of the movie had Fred being gay and Daphne and Velma sharing a kiss. Damn you, Warner Brothers! We could have had it all! MARINA: 4 LAURA: 3.5

Brevity: One of the longer entries in this canon, this movie does not feel too long. We watched all of the deleted scenes right after the movie, and they felt right at home. They should not have been removed. Let Velma have her drunken piano anthem! MARINA: 4 LAURA: 4

Final ratings: MARINA: 3.4 LAURA: 3.4

#scooby doo #scooby-doo #scooby doo (2002)#an act of scoobris

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comfortwriting · 4 years ago

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Best Friends Brother Part 4 - G.W

Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompt Masterlist

Part 4 of ‘Best Friends Brother’ - please read part 1, 2, 3

George Weasley x Fem Reader slow burn

Warnings: Swearing, Mention of food, eating, and blood.

Warnings: Swearing, mention of food, eating, and blood.

Fred waited outside the owlery whilst Ron looked for you, hoping to find you with Gideon to calm his nerves, but also hoping to catch you with George to prove his suspicions so he could finally stop living on the edge all the time.

"Well?" Asked Fred, staring at his younger brother who walked out of the owlery.

Ron shook his head with an annoyed expression on his face "She's not there" he replied.

"Is her owl?"

Ron nodded, following his brother down the steps "yeah, yet she told me she was going to spend some time with him."

"Strange isn't it?" Fred muttered, "how she's always away and nowhere to be found at the same time as George."

Ron went quiet, he hated this - hated the thought of you being swept off your feet by someone better, someone everyone preferred over him, even if he was your best friend, he knew his older brother better than anyone.

"I wish you had that map, you know, you should nick it from him when he's sleeping."

"I would" replied Fred "but he clutches to it when he sleeps."

"Hogsmeade.." Ron said deep in thought "they could be in Hogsmeade!"

Running out of the town and back to Hogwarts, you ducked your head, praying that you wouldn't be recognised through the storms of other students and villagers. You needed to get to the owlery, to be with Gideon like you lied about, you couldn't get caught, not now.

George sprinted towards Zonko's, also making sure that he wouldn't get spotted, he quickly sneaked inside the joke shop through the backdoor, browsing the nose-biting teacups.

"Well, where is he then?" Ron's voice asked in the background.

George swallowed hard and pretended to be focused on the teacups, ignoring his brothers inching closer and closer towards him.

Fred patted his twin on the shoulder "What you doing here then?" he asked "You can't keep skipping Quidditch practice, I'm getting into bother."

George jumped out of his skin at Fred's touch, he turned around to look at him "Sorry for skipping, I've been Christmas shopping" he lied "Only time I can come here, it's why I've got the map."

Fred and Ron exchanged looks before staring back at George, both of them still unsure, Ron more than Fred as deep down, he believed and hoped that his own twin wouldn't lie to him, especially to his face.

"All right then" Fred replied, staring back at the teapots.

"Have you uh, have you seen Y/N?" Ron asked, "Went to the owlery this morning, but she wasn't there."

George's mouth and throat went dry, he swallowed hard again, desperate for water. "I haven't, no, if I do I'll tell her you're looking for her."

Ron pursed his lips and nodded "I guess we'll leave you to your Christmas shopping then."

Ron and Fred left Zonko's, leaving George with a dreadful and heavy heap of guilt, sinking into his stomach. George sighed and walked to a quieter part of the shop, examining the map, his two brothers going for a drink without him.

George finally got the courage to leave Zonko's and go into Honey Dukes, making sure to pick out everything Ron and Fred loved most in hopes that this could buy their acceptance and trust as Christmas break hung over his head.

Hurrying up the short, steep, steps - fighting to catch your breath, you stormed into the owlery, the many owls staring at you whilst Gideon turned his head, blinking at you sweetly. Your forehead produced droplets of sweat and you were desperate for a glass of water, your backpack weighing heavily on your shoulders, full of letters and parcels for your family and friends.

You hunched over with your hands on your thighs, panting, Gideon started to shuffle impatiently. You lifted up your right hand and stretched out your index finger whilst the rest remained in a loose fist.

"One moment, Gideon." You breathed, your heart finally calming down.

Stretching and walking over to your owl, you lifted him into your arms and found a clear stop on the owlery floor to sit down, surrounded by small animal carcasses, feathers, and droppings.

You stroked Gideon's face and back gently with the back of your hand "Penny never allowed me to give her so much affection like this" you reminisced "I'm so happy you let me" you pecked the top of Gideon's head softly, standing up slowly and walking out, ready to see if Gideon could fly as well as Penny once did.

"Something doesn't add up" Ron huffed "Christmas shopping? since when were you left out of that?"

Fred stared at his shoes, walking towards the castle, his tummy still warm from the butterbeer. "I want to believe him, I don't think he'd lie to my face."

Ron shook his head "Well, we'll soon find out" he grumbled, "because mum insisted that she's coming to ours for Christmas, it's why I've been looking for her."

"But she usually comes over for Christmas, doesn't she?" Fred asked, knitting his eyebrows together.

Ron nodded "Yeah, but I didn't ask this time, so either mum is encouraging me to invite her, or someone else has asked."

Giggling, you watched Gideon soar around in the sky, feeling more than confident that he would be able to deliver your letters and packages without any issues, flying down and perching on your arm, you gave him a treat and stroked his head.

"I've wondered where you've been." Ron called out behind you "Where were you this morning?"

"I've been with Gideon" you replied quickly, still focusing on stroking his soft feathers.

"Not this morning you weren't" Ron argued, walking towards you and standing by your side.

You sighed and turned to face him, feeling frustrated "I've been wrapping up presents, okay?" you huffed.

Ron raised his eyebrows, trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle in his head "Were you out shopping with George by any chance?"

Shit. He's on to me. He saw me leave Hogsmeade.

No. No. He can't know, not now, no way!

"Oh come off it!" you acted, crossing your arms, causing Gideon to leap up and perch on your shoulder "I did my shopping weeks ago - alone!"

Ron swallowed your lies down his throat, the actual truth slowly dissolving in his mind. He nodded his head and pursed his lips "Sorry"

You nodded, feeling slightly guilty about lying to him "It's okay, just... just trust me, yeah? you're my best mate."

Ron wrapped his arm around you, starting to feel more confident and secure with there being no chance in his head of you and George dating "You're my best mate too."

As the snow continued to fall and surround Hogwarts, you, Ron, Hermione, Harry, Ginny, Fred, and George got on board the Hogwarts Express and made your way back to London. You could feel the butterflies flapping their wings inside of you, soaring as Gideon did in the sky days before the end of term.

You and George were so excited to be able to spend more time together, without hundreds of students watching or overhearing, but the risk of being together under his roof and surrounded by his family was too high - but you didn't care, because if anything, in your mind - you weren't going to get caught, you would be careful, as secretive as can be.

Hurling your trunk and presents into the warm and cozy burrow, Mrs Weasley engulfed you into a comforting hug "It is so lovely to see you again, dear!" She smiled, cupping your face in her gentle hands "You and Hermione will be staying with Ginny in her room, it's very spacious!"

One of your butterflies lost a wing, starting to fall deep down into your tummy, you didn't want to share a room if it meant that you would be spending most of your time with the little sister of your boyfriend, and your best friends nosy and opinionated crush.

"But don't panic dear, you don't have to go to bed when they do, you can stay up as long as you like! Oh, Harry!" Mrs Weasley pulled herself away from you and hurried over to Harry.

Looking behind over your shoulder, George rested against the kitchen counter, turning his head and nodding in the direction of the living room, you knew what this meant and the injured butterfly in the pit of your stomach slowly recovered. Smiling, you nodded back, confirming the meeting, and quickly picked up your trunk and bags, following Ginny and Hermione.

Without having a minute to breathe, you were called down for dinner, all of you huddled around the dinner table surrounded by mouthwatering dishes you had missed so dearly. Mr and Mrs Weasley used this time for a much-needed catch-up, mainly Mrs Weasley scolding Fred, George, and even Ron for misbehaving ("but not you Harry, dear!") whilst Mr Weasley bombarded Hermione with questions about her parents being dentists and expressing how fascinating inspecting peoples teeth seemed.

George kept flashing you looks across the table, smiling, then smirking, eyeing you up, causing you to go red in the face and struggle to contain your giggles. Part of you wanted to entertain him, pull faces back, blow a sneaky kiss or wink, but Hermione had already noticed George making faces, and you enjoying it.

"What was that about?" Hermione asked, putting down her bags and sitting on her bed starting to unpack, Ginny copied, listening in.

You placed the presents under your bed, opening your trunk you pulled out your pajamas. "I'm lost? What?" you replied, unpacking everything you needed out, placing your folded clothes inside the huge dresser.

"The way George kept looking at you throughout dinner," Hermione said, the look of patience wearing thin splashed across her face.

Ginny stopped unpacking and turned around, staring at you.

"He wasn't looking at me." You replied, pulling off your knitted jumper.

"Yes, he was!" Hermione insisted.

"It's nothing, Hermione, I spilled gravy down my top and I got embarrassed-"

"Can we not argue?" Ginny interrupted "I'm sure George was just smiling over nothing."

You nodded, Hermione pulled a face and got out her toothbrush "well, I'm exhausted, I'm getting ready for bed and I'll be calling it a night."

Ginny sat on her bed, yawning and stretching "Me too, I'm up early tomorrow, mum needs me to help her with choosing what's for Chrismas Dinner."

Hermione got changed and brushed her teeth in the bathroom whilst Ginny stood outside the door, waiting to go in, having the bedroom all to yourself, you quickly got changed into your pajamas and got into bed, shutting your eyes and practicing deep breathing, pretending to be asleep.

Ginny and Hermione both entered the bedroom quietly and got into their beds, discussing what time they would be up in the morning and whispering goodnight, you waited until the two of them fell asleep when you could hear their snores you slowly got out of bed and left the bedroom, slowly walking down the many stairs, your heart pounding in your chest.

Walking into the living room, George smiled up at you, the dim light highlighting his golden hair and deep brown eyes, he patted the space next to him, your heart pounding even more. Sitting down next to him, you leaned into him, swinging your legs on the sofa and resting your head against his chest, his arms sneaking around you and pulling you into him.

"I've been waiting for this for so long" George mumbled quietly, nuzzling into your hair.

Your cheeks began to heat up, you had never been this close to him before, not ever, the closest was holding hands a kiss - and now the two of you were cuddling underneath a warm blanket, so close that you could hear and feel his heart beating, his scent surrounding you, and his touch making you feel safe and secure.

"Me too," you said softly "I'm so glad we're away from the constant noise, large crowds, and watching eyes."

George smiled, kissing your head softly "It's nice just being able to exist with you, like this, away from everyone and everything, even if it's this late in the evening."

"We'll need to be careful" you reminded him "Hermione saw what happened at dinner and she brought it up in front of Ginny. Ron has been paranoid too, especially after what happened a few days ago."

George nodded, leaving soft kisses on your head, his hands stroking your waist "Fred's suspicious too, I had to give him the map, the way he was looking at me - it's hard lying to him, Y/N."

Pulling George's hand up to your mouth, you pressed your lips against his hand and kissed it softly, George smiled, pecking your head with another soft kiss.

"It's hard" you sighed "but we won't have to hide this forever, the right time will come."

George freed one of his hands and reached for the family photo album on the table in front of him, placing it in front of you to hold.

"Just spending the late evening with you for the next two weeks is enough for me." He sat up, pulling you closer.

Holding onto the photo album you opened it, expecting to see pictures but you were met with nothing but empty spaces.

"I've bought this for us," George said softly "I want us to fill this with pictures, we need to make up for the three months we've been together with no photographs to show for it."

You felt your heart enlarge and flush your body with warm blood, your veins pumping it throughout your body, getting high on the feeling of this happiness - this love.

"Oh, George..."

Hearing a door opening and footsteps up above, creaking down the stairs, your face and George's dropped.

"Hide!" He mouthed, snatching the photo album from you.

Tag list: @amourtentiaa @reeophidian @inglourious-imagines @alwaysnforeverfangirl @horrorxweasley @carisi-sonny

#george weasley #george wealsey x reader #george wealsey imagine #george weasley fanfiction #George Weasley one shot #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley x you #fred weasley imagine #ron weasley #ron weasly x reader #ron weasly imagine #ron weasley oneshot #ron weasley fanfic #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #Harry Potter fanfic

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angry-geese · 4 years ago

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At Dawn’s Break III

PB!Dio Brando x Maid!Reader, Jonathan Joestar x Reader (platonic)

Warnings: none! sfw, mention of death, but nothing too graphic. Mostly plot. Not the healthiest relationship dynamic. Technically yandere Dio but its very tame

Notes: Part One- sfw, Part Two- nsfw, Part Four - nsfw

This has been in my drafts for so long I’m so sorry. I do have a friend helping me edit my ao3 stuff so there might be some grammatical differences between that and the stuff posted here but i'll try to keep it as consistent as possible- story-wise its still the same.

In the coming months, word would arrive of your father’s death.

Sad wasn’t the right word for it. The man was old, sick, and frail. He fell ill and never recovered. Things like that happen. It was expected. His passing was quiet, happening in the early hours in the morning. You had grieved his death long before it actually happened. Your love for him was more out of a sense of duty than anything else. He was never a proper parent, the harsh expectations of life were thrown upon you rather young. At nineteen you were left as the sole guardian of your siblings. Some nights you would scream about the unfairness of it all, others you would wallow in your pity. The constant "sorry for your loss"s infuriated you. It would not bring him back. It would not fix this hole you've dug for yourself. It did nothing to justify what you've gone through. The world wasn't going to stop spinning just for you to feel sorry for yourself.

So you returned to work.

Your meetings with Dio grew fewer and further apart. Your conversations were short, ending with arguments. What he could dish out, you threw right back. Often you found yourself bitter and frustrated with him, leaving much space between the two of you. It wasn’t that you loved him any less, but he wasn’t exactly understanding in this matter. Neither of his fathers- adopted or biological- could he stand. Putting it plainly: Dio was awful at comforting people. Sympathy was not one of his strong suits. Going to him for comfort was out of the question.

Your life was soon after consumed by the mundane nature of work. The repetition of it you found soothing. It was nice to have a routine. Even if Dio wasn’t there for you, it was. The head maid took notice in your sudden interest in work, and blamed Dio for your lacking efforts. You just nodded and kept your head down.

Mr. Joestar would soon fall ill. Due to his old age, it didn’t come as a surprise to many. Very few questioned it. He was older, but seemingly healthy at the time. He fell sick overnight with the flu, which soon turned to pneumonia. It was not looking like he would recover. His coughing fits could be heard from across the manor. Much of it reminded you of your own father, so you often stayed away, only coming around when it was asked of you.

It makes you wonder if Dio feels the same sense of duty to his father. Probably not. He does not understand family ties in the same way you do. He was very attentive when Mr. Joestar fell ill, often providing medicine for him. If you were called to help, he would go in your place. It feels false, like a mockery of a doting son. Yes- he's providing for his father, but it feels like an alien trying to copy a human. Like a robot trying to replicate human love. It’s not out of any kindness in his heart. What he feels isn’t love. Sometimes you don’t think he’s capable of it. But if he did love something, it was power. He’d never admit it, but it was also you. Having you so consumed with grief enraged him. It was a childish want for attention that he found hard to conceal. He never took out his anger on you, finding himself afraid of turning out to be like his birth father driving his mother into an early grave. Often he thought about how easily he could force your hand, make you chose between him and your family. Deep down he didn’t want to toss out an ultimatum. You had just as much of a bite as him; unstoppable force meets immovable object. In no way he saw that ending well. Others had noticed the growing distance between you. People talked- as they did- rumors spread.

“Y/N.” Jonathan’s voice startles you.

“Mister Joestar, how-”

“Call me Jonathan.”

You cringe at the interruption.

“Jonathan.” You say. “How can I help you?”

“Will you take a walk with me?”

He guides you out to the garden. Winter has left it scraggly and barren, washed out in cold, white light. A few wilting leaves cling to the trees. Only a handful of rooms are lit within the house. It feels personal, being dragged through the place where you spent so many of your nights with your lover. Calling him that feels strange. Lover seems like too innocent of a word.

Over your time at the Joestar estate, there isn’t much you know about Jonathan. Dio talked of him. Often. It was never good, though he had a way of exaggerating things. By now you’ve learned to take it with a grain of salt. Your meetings with the second Joestar son have been few and rather brief. He seems sweet, albeit a bit naive and too engrossed in high society to talk with the likes of you. The girls in the kitchen swoon over him, although he’s sweet on a neighbor girl. Erina- you’ve heard of her. She’s been over for dinner before.

"How are you?" He asks.

"Fine, I suppose." You say, a bit irritated with the small talk. "What is it you need of me?"

"I heard what happened," absentmindedly he picks at his nails, "and I wanted to give my condolences. I imagine this situation is... unpleasant for you."

"I manage." You say. "But I doubt that's what you brought me out here for."

He nods. "I wanted to ask you something."

"Then ask away. I'd be happy to answer."

“You’re close with Dio, aren’t you?” He asks.

“A bit. Why?”

While you’re almost certain he knows, it feels easier to lie. You were not the star-crossed lovers that Jonathan and Erina were, the type of partners that made the girls you work with swoon and wish for such a thing, the type of love people write books about but fail to recreate. Your relationship was more out of a mutual agreement than it was proper love, but you suppose it was there. The two of you were angry, scathing people who were capable of god knows what. Together you could be terrifying.

“You two seem to spend quite a lot of time together.” He says. “Have you noticed anything strange with him?”

“No.” You say. “I haven't noticed anything like that."

"He's awfully attentive with father..."

"It's bizarre." You say. He laughs.

"I'm heading to London in a few days- to the university. Father's medicine hasn't been working, and I want it to be examined." From his coat pocket he produces a small green bottle. it's familiar. Dio has one quite like it.

"Do you need anything while you're away?" You ask, wishing to get back to your work. There was laundry that needed to be done.

"No," he says, turning to you, "thank you for your time. I should get going."

Before you can leave, he stops you.

"I know it's no business of mine, but my brother is bad news. You're a sweet girl and I don't want anything to happen to you. Dio is capable of things you couldn't even imagine."

"You're right. It is no business of yours."

He gives you a quick goodbye before leaving you alone in the garden.

Over time, Dio has grown more serious about keeping you close. He has a malicious, possessive streak to him. Your recent distance has only brought that out more. There is no talk of marriage- his adoptive father would never approve- but he talks of the future. Often. For you, the future meant work. To some extent, you could live with that. You never knew what it meant for him. He jokes of world domination.

You’re not quite sure you want to rule the world, but you do want to get out of London.

You stop just under the apple tree. It’s sickly and sad looking. The last of the fruit has fallen off and rotted. A few wilting leaves cling onto the branches. Jonathan gives you a quick goodbye, before returning to the house.

The door to his room is open. A lantern is lit, though the curtains are drawn shut. There’s no need to knock, you’re the only person who will walk in.

“Sit with me, pet.” Dio says.

Maybe the nickname has grown on you. It no longer draws out the same reaction of disgust and discomfort. Time has softened your hard outer shell. He opens his arms and instinctively you go into them. His chest feels unnaturally cold, but being so close to him makes you feel safe. The smell of his cologne is familiar and comforting, you find yourself leaning in closer. You allow yourself this one moment of weakness. He rests his chin on top of your head.

“I don’t have long,” you say, “I must get back.”

He pulls you closer. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“Jonathan came and talked with me earlier.” You say.

You could almost swear you heard his heart skip a beat. His grip around you loosens, allowing you to shift to face him. His expression is unreadable.

“Yes.” He says. “I figured he would.”

“Why?”

You almost ask what he’s done.

Accusing him of something would only make him shut down. You already have a guess. The entire conversation leaves a bad taste in your mouth. It’s a constant unease and discomfort, more than it is outright pain. He's scheming- as he does- but more importantly, he hasn't told you about it.

“My brother doesn't believe in my ways.” He says. "I would never do anything to hurt father. It's no fault of mine that he won't recover."

"Then tell me what was in the bottle." You say. "As of right now, Jonathan is on his way to get that 'medicine' tested."

"I never gave any of it to him."

Jonathan won't see it that way. The authorities surely won't be as kind as his brother. And if he gets caught- what then?

"So you give it to someone else- so some unassuming person is killing him."

Dio doesn’t respond. Do you really expect more of him? He’s proven to be capable of many things. You’ve long since learned he wants to be the sole heir to the Joestar estate. It was a given. Power is something he craves. As much as he jokes about world domination, there's always a serious tone behind them. In the beginning, it just seemed like his nature; he was always collected and intense. Some truth must have been behind them. He makes no attempt to hide that. But this...

Murder is a bit too cold-blooded for your tastes. Morally you don’t have the high ground. You don’t find yourself above much, but you'd like to think you're above murder. If its what you need to do to survive, you believe you'd give it a pass, but as the time comes you're less sure of it. Mr. Joestar gave Dio an opportunity that doesn’t even come once in a lifetime for many. It feels like a slap in the face, just adding insult to injury. This feels like betrayal in the purest sense of the word. While you aren’t close to his father, you have a bit of respect for the man. His death would not cause you the same grief as your own father’s, but you would be sad.

But he is old, and not all old people recover from illness.

Most of the estate would go to Jonathan upon his father’s death. Really, this seems short-sighted. As the younger son, Dio isn’t entitled to all that much. But getting rid of his brother might be easier said than done. Part of you is angry for how little he’s thought this through. Truly, you expected more from him. With as much as he schemes, you had expected a better plan.

Your reaction isn’t quite what he expected. Anything but blind love and acceptance is seen as betrayal to him. To you, everything that could go wrong, has gone wrong.

If he fails- if- there is no recovering from this. If he is caught, many signs point to you as an accomplice.

Silently he exits, leaving you alone in his dark room.

#jjba #jojo part 1 #phantom blood #jojo's bizarre adventure #dio brando #dio #dio brando x reader #dio x reader #jjba x reader #yandere dio brando #i guess???#yandare dio brando x reader #cw yandere #ik i abandoned this for a full month #but #its back #fem!reader

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letterboxd · 4 years ago

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Chaotic Bisexual.

Shiva Baby writer-director Emma Seligman tells Ella Kemp about expanding her wildly cringey short film into an even more anxiety-inducing feature, why Virgo and Taurus make the perfect producing pair, and the eternal conflict of being a good Jewish girl.

“If I can skip a bris to see E.T., I like movies!” —Emma Seligman

It sounds like a strange riff on a guy-walks-into-a-bar joke: a girl walks into a shiva and bumps into her secret ex-girlfriend, then her sugar daddy, then his shiksa wife, oh, and their baby—yet the payoff is so much more rewarding.

Filmmaker Emma Seligman’s debut feature is a new kind of teen classic: 78 non-stop minutes teeming with well-drawn traits and tropes that define the best coming-of-agers, the best Jewish comedies and the best day-in-a-life psychological roller-coasters.

Shiva Baby began as a grad project—a short film of the same name—and Seligman’s feature-length embellishment impressed at last year’s virtual editions of SXSW and TIFF, where it was quickly snapped up for international distribution. In a way, Shiva Baby was perfectly tailored to the times we were living in: Danielle, our reluctant heroine, is trapped in a claustrophobic family event she can’t escape, as people from her past and lies about her future make their way deep under her skin.

Fred Melamed, Rachel Sennott and Polly Draper in ‘Shiva Baby’.

Shiva Baby is very much the product of a wry school of emerging filmmakers who understand excruciatingly mundane horror and pin-sharp comedy as intimate bedfellows. Seligman’s writing finds a way to flesh out gloriously caricatural Jewish relatives, probing and overbearing and irrational. She does this both through dialogue and a visceral, haptic aesthetic that lurches in and out of focus visually, and has a nails-on-chalkboard unease sonically.

Coming in hot with a 4.01 average rating, Shiva Baby is striking all sorts of discordant notes with film lovers. “Combines some of my biggest anxieties: being asked if I have a boyfriend as well as what my plans for the future are and people talking with their mouths full,” writes Muriel.

The film’s “bisexual chaos”, which hinges on a haywire performance from Rachel Sennott as Danielle, opposite Molly Gordon’s overachieving ex-girlfriend, Maya, is also one of its great strengths. Glee star Dianna Agron is the shiksa threat, Kim, while Danny Deferrari is Danielle’s hapless benefactor, Max. If that’s not enough? Polly Draper, Fred Melamed and Jackie Hoffman are also just there.

What do you think defines a Jewish sense of humor? Emma Seligman: It’s morbid usually, and darker—generally uncomfortable and cringeworthy. I think about Curb Your Enthusiasm or Seinfeld, and A Serious Man. It borders on, “Is this funny at all?” I think Jewish humor leans into the darkly funny British sense of humor. I’m Canadian, so I feel like I’m halfway between the UK and the US in terms of their sense of humor.

Was it always your intention to make a comedy that feels like a bit of a nightmare? You’ve mentioned Black Swan and Opening Night as touchstones… Because I came from a short film, the question when expanding into a feature was, “How are we going to keep everyone interested in this day?” It’s got to be a significant day, it’s got to be that this young woman’s life has completely changed from this day. So what is it that changes? Why are we watching it? I watched a lot of movies that took place in one day, one of them was Trey Edward Shults’ first film Krisha. And then from there I realized that anxiety and this scary psychological feeling is a great way to have the audience stay there.

I watched Opening Night because there’s a shiva in it, but it was more the lobby scenes that were so claustrophobic and tense. And then each step of the way with each department, we were like, okay, it’s gonna be tense, but then we got to music, I was like, okay, this has become a full nightmare. Initially, I was just like, it’s got to be tense, but by the end, I was like, well, it does feel like a nightmare to a young woman sometimes.

Because you mention that, I have to ask whether you’ve seen Bo Burnham’s Eighth Grade? I have, it’s incredible. It’s so funny, they’re both coming-of-age [films], and one of them is about a fourteen year old and then the same sort of feeling exists when you’re 22. When you’re fourteen is when it begins, and when you’re 22 you’re sort of at the end of it and you’re like, “Oh, I thought I figured out what I was supposed to do when I started feeling insecure this way at fourteen about sex and boys.”

Diana Agron and Danny Deferrari in ‘Shiva Baby’.

Let’s talk about Rachel Sennott, who you have describe as your “Virgo rock”. What do you bring one another in your creative partnership? She’s a hustler, and she sets goals like nobody else. I think she moves very fast, and I’m more detail-oriented. I don’t know if the movie would have happened without her because she was like, “What are the goals to achieve this film?” After we made the short film, she just kept checking in with me. She goes well beyond what an actor does, which is why she’s an executive producer, because she was very, very invested in seeing the movie get made.

I think she pushes. We joke that she brings me out of my depression and I help calm her down. I feel like Taurus is a little more chill. Virgos are also earth signs, but they run on a faster frequency. So I think I calm her down, especially when we’re writing and bringing it back to structure. But she’s way funnier, she’s able to give jokes so quickly. We balance each other perfectly, for sure.

Do you think your partnership with Rachel is the kind of partnership you could see yourself maintaining throughout your career? Definitely. I think it’s important to have a good friend and also a young woman. She’s got different career goals from me, but they’re aligned. And we’re not in competition with each other. I feel so grateful because so much of the time I feel like the world does make you feel like you’re in competition with your friends that are trying to do the same thing as you when you’re a young woman—or just maybe in general.

Rachel Sennott and Danny Deferrari in ‘Shiva Baby’.

Her character in Shiva Baby completely subverts the idea of a “nice Jewish boy/girl” which can be a trope in movies, but also very much a real thing in life. Is that something you consciously wanted to subvert, or did it come organically from the story you wanted to tell? I wanted to contrast that idea of a “nice Jewish girl” because every nice Jewish girl or boy has a sex life. I felt the sort of nice Jewish girl stressors on me were completely opposite from the NYU art school sugaring worlds, and hookup culture broadly. My family is such a huge part of my life and I think that those two sets of pressures are completely contradictory; to be a good girl or boy and have a stable career ahead of you, and to be finding, even if it’s at the very beginning, your eventual partner, or to just be in a relationship. And I felt like in school, no one wanted to date, everyone was hooking up. So many of my friends are sugar babies. I tried it super, super briefly.

I felt like the world was telling me to be like “an empowered, independent, sexy woman who doesn’t care what anyone thinks of her, and doesn’t abide by any rules”, and I was like, “This is the opposite of being a nice Jewish girl!” And I just felt like those two things were screaming at me. So I did want to play on that. But I don’t even think it’s playing, just because that felt like what I was trying to battle within myself. And I think a lot of young people do, whether they’re Jewish or not. That’s their family’s expectations. And then the world is like, “But don’t care and don’t commit…”

Writer-director Emma Seligman. / Photo by Emma McIntyre

But then you still have to go home to your parents at the end of the day and they’re going to tell you what to do… Exactly.

What would you want viewers to take away from Shiva Baby about the sugaring community that you feel has been maligned in the past? I’m not a sex worker, so I don’t want to speak on behalf of this community, but I definitely feel like there hasn’t been many positive portrayals of sex workers. So I just wanted to show someone—because I knew so many friends of mine who did it—who enjoyed it, or purposefully did it and didn’t feel bad or shameful about it. I think maybe a lot of people think that it’s always something that comes out of dire circumstances. But whether that is the case or not, I think there’s a lot of people who enjoy it and enjoy what they do like any other job. So I just hope that they’re able to sort of widen their scope of what a sex worker looks like and acts like. Every sex worker has got a family, friends, a full robust life, as we all do.

It’s time for your Life in Film questionnaire. Can you give me a few must-watch Jewish films for people who don’t know where to start? Fiddler on the Roof, Yentl, Keeping the Faith, Kissing Jessica Stein, A Serious Man. Definitely Uncut Gems, and Crossing Delancey.

Shiva Baby has been described on Letterboxd, variously, as “Uncut Gems but make it chaotic bisexual”, “the most stressful Jewish movie since Uncut Gems”, “the chaotic successor of Uncut Gems”, “if Krisha and Uncut Gems had a baby”, and, of course, “Uncut Gems for hot Jewish sluts”… Amazing, I love that. Extremely nice comparison.

Who is your favorite promising young woman? Not Emerald Fennell’s film, but a young creative or performer who you think is making waves. I love Hari Nef—I think she’s amazing and am really excited to see what she does next. I loved her so much in Transparent and Assassination Nation, and I don’t understand why she hasn’t been the lead in a million movies.

Molly Gordon with Rachel Sennott in ‘Shiva Baby’.

What should people watch next after Shiva Baby? Those Jewish movies would be a great start. And then Krisha, although I think a lot of people have seen it especially if they’re on Letterboxd! But then those Jewish romantic comedies, and then Obvious Child, all those movies are very sweet and endearing and helped me make it.

Separate from film, if it’s shiva-related then Transparent. If I didn’t have Transparent I don’t think I would have seen world of grounded, nuanced Jews that I could do comedy with. It would have been more in the Curb vein, which is also amazing, but a little more schtick.

What was the first film that made you want to be a filmmaker? My parents are huge movie buffs so I’m not sure there was one moment, but I will say that when I was six there was a re-release of the 20-year anniversary of E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial and I was at a horribly packed bris and my uncle was like, “Fuck this, there are so many people here, I can’t even breathe. Let’s go see E.T.” That was the first moment where I was like, if I can skip a bris to see E.T., I like movies.

Related content

From Short to Feature: Rob’s list of 2020 films that made the jump

Jewish Cinema (non-Holocaust): Amelia’s list of films “for when u want to celebrate your heritage but don’t want to have to think all too deeply about the Shoah”

Best Directorial Debuts of 2020: suggested by Letterboxd members, featuring Shiva Baby

Follow Ella on Letterboxd

Shiva Baby is now in select theaters and on VOD in the US. Film stills by Maria Rusche.

#shiva baby #emma seligman #jewish filmmaker #jewish director #directed by women #rachel sennott #jewish film #jewish movie #transparent #uncut gems #hari nef #e.t. the extra terrestrial #obvious child #krisha #trey edward shults

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endlich-allein · 4 years ago

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Promo "Liebe Ist Für Alle Da" (2009), Christoph "Doom" Schneider — Interview by Philip Lageat, 16-11-2009, Nantes (Rock Hard #94)

Rock Hard : With six studio albums in the bag, it must be more and more difficult to establish a setlist. How do you deal with that ?

Christoph "Doom" Schneider : Strangely enough, we take our heads less at this level than in the studio. I am therefore going to surprise you by telling you that this is done as simply and naturally as possible, since we ultimately proceed in a very democratic way : each of us draws up a list of our favorite titles. We then compare the desideratas of each... and the majority wins, provided however that the songs chosen fit well into the show. We did it this time around and it worked really well, since we shared an identical opinion on many songs. Personally, I find that we have found a good balance between old songs and new songs. We play a lot of songs from our last album, Liebe Ist Für Alle Da, which suits me well because I admit that I was fed up with some old titles. I was almost sickened by playing them. So we discarded them, otherwise I think we would have quickly become jaded of the new show. So we had to be careful what we choose, because, given the special effects that we deploy on stage, it is quite difficult for us, after the fact, to make big changes in the setlist. It is that each of us must know precisely what to do, and where it must be, during each song : a misstep, a second of inattention, and you are toasted like a peanut ! (laughs) Anyway, a setlist usually follows you during a whole tour and I'm happy with it which, as I said, seems to me to be a happy medium, a pretty harmonious balance, between old and new songs.

RH : Twenty years ago almost to the day, on November 9, 1989, we witnessed the fall of the Berlin Wall. As an East German, do you remember this historic moment ?

Christoph : Yes, I was in town. In the middle of the night, I heard the radio announcing that people were destroying the Wall. It must be said that, for a few days already, the rumor had swelled that this was going to happen. But I stayed home because quite frankly, I couldn't believe it ! (laughs) It wasn't until a day or two later that I crossed the Wall for the first time to go west. At the risk of disappointing, I was therefore not one of those people we saw on TV riding the Wall and destroying it with a pickax or hammer. I remember I was of course delighted, but the shock was such that it took me a while to adjust to this new life : during the first two or three years, I had the feeling of not being able to be part of nothing and of everything at the same time, to evolve in a space of total freedom. To tell the truth, it was an extraordinary period ! In East Berlin, it was chaos. We squatted in houses where we organized huge parties... (smile) There were no rules and a sweet scent of anarchy hung in the air. Musically, we all continued to play with our respective bands and for a while it didn't go so badly. Until we realized that the situation had changed dramatically and that these bands belonged to a period from now on bygone, were from another age. We felt that the time had come to start a new adventure by creating another group. The foundations of Rammstein were laid... From the start, we defined what our sound should be. Very quickly we figured out that even if we rehearse hard, we would never be able to sound like an American band. That's why we tried to create something unique, which really looks like us.

RH : Do you remember the first concert you saw in the West ?

Christoph : It probably must have been an unknown punk band. But the first big gig I attended was a Red Hot Chili Peppers show at a tiny club. In 1990, it seems to me. They were not as popular then as they are today and did not perform in large venues yet. Before this concert, I had never heard of it. It was a Californian who was squatting at my house who told me that it was a good group and offered to go see it. When I think about it, I wonder what she and I could say to each other, since I couldn't get a word of English ! (laughs) Anyway, we went to this concert and I took a huge slap. Never before have I seen something so exciting ! This is an evening that I will never forget...

RH : Despite multiple internal friction, Rammstein has always kept the same line-up. How do you explain this stability ?

Christoph : Rammstein is only worth the sum of his individualities and their uniqueness. If one of us left, or whoever, we wouldn't be dealing with the same group. Rammstein would no longer be. So, it's true, there were tensions between us during the recording of the last album (see previous interview), but that's how Rammstein works. I believe in these guys... And then we always had a fight every time we set foot in the studio, and that, for any album. It's just that, when we were younger, we were able to find common ground faster because we were less stubborn and had less ego. Maybe we are too stressed out today when we work together, because we know it is going to be a long and painful process. And that, we find it more and more difficult to bear it. But for me that's a good thing, because these tensions are a blessing, in that they sharpen our creativity. Without them we would not achieve exciting results. We only yell at each other over simple taste issues : "I like it, why don't you like it too?". It's just that sometimes we tend to forget about it and take things too personal. At my level, I now tend not to want to impose my point of view if the majority does not think like me. Others, on the contrary, do not get along with age and refuse to give up even the smallest square inch of land (laughs). Hence endless heated discussions. Not to mention that the producer also has an opinion and that we therefore have to juggle the desires of seven people. You should know that for the most of us no longer get along with the producer (Editor's note: the Swede Jacob Hellner who has so far produced all of Rammstein's albums) in terms of choices and tastes. We have not changed, not evolved one iota. We are still able to develop this stupid energy in order to provoke, and I like that because some people expect us to mature with age, that we become more "adult". And here we are shooting a porn clip (Editor's note: allusion to the video for the single "Pussy") ! (laughs) We're still the same kids who, twenty years ago, were overflowing with youthful enthusiasm : "That's going to be a blast. So what are we waiting for ?"

RH : To conclude, do you really sell this box containing Six dildos that we could see on the Net ?

Christoph : (Visibly embarrassed) I have no answer to that question. I think this is more of a joke than a reality... And then who would buy this anyway ? (laughs)

#rockhard magazine special rammstein 2021 #rammstein in press #rammstein interview #rammstein #christoph schneider #till lindemann #flake lorenz #paul landers #richard kruspe #oliver riedel

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belit0 · 3 years ago

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Commission for @GlitterBomba!

Part 2 of this!! I don't feel it's as angsty as it should be, but for some reason, my creativity wanted it that way? It's been a long time since I've last written, and this was definitely a challenge... First part was produced way too long ago, so it was also challenging to connect with what I felt when I wrote it! But here it is, and I hope you like it, GlitterBomba. Thanks for trusting me!

My Ko-fi page~ Buy me a coffee if anyone wants part 3 ❤（っ＾▿＾）

It took you days to awaken from your deep sleep, days which became weeks, and weeks transformed into months. There was no hope for your life among the healers, but the tenacity and insistence of those elders who saved you forced them to continue providing methods and energy, herbs, talismans to keep you breathing.

Impossible to explain how that mortal blow did not steal your last breath, not when the perpetrator was the greatest tyrant in the current world, the monster everyone learned to fear and flee from. In the small place where you are kept hidden, rumor has it the treacherous one repented as soon as his hand affected your body, causing you not to succumb immediately.

It wasn’t until after he vanished, shrouded in lightning and hatred, when one of Ashura’s subordinates came upon the scene of your sad fate. A pool of blood acting as a bed over a pale body, devoid of any warmth and life. Everyone was quick to write you off for dead after such an event, and only when one of the village elders took your pulse did he find your incredible attempt to resist despite all odds.

Keeping you along with the new leader and his people would not be a good idea. Not when you barely escaped with your life from the beast. In case he came back and besieged his younger brother, it would be better if he didn’t find you there. That man proved to have an unquenchable thirst for revenge.

Tempting fate once is more than enough.

That led a group of elderly men, those who defended your slight pulse when everyone thought you were dead, to ask Ashura’s permission before disappearing and taking you to a safe place, making use of some of the village healers to ensure your health. 8 men of different ages vanish with you, swearing on their lives to do everything possible for you to open your eyes again.

Winters turned into warm seasons, and autumn leaves were waning. Two whole years quickly go by before your consciousness returns. The world is different. You understand through your guardians that life passed with you as a ghostly presence, a bedridden legend they fought all this time to preserve.

No one mentions what happened to you, though. No one names him.

To everyone’s surprise, you don’t really ask about the village; you don’t ask about your birthplace and your home. You don’t ask... about him.

Your healers discover you memory was damaged after exhaustive examinations beyond your comprehension. Theories why this happened are various in your little home; some argue the loss of blood hurt your brain, others believe the trauma of that betrayal forced you to block it all out, and there are those who think maybe you ignored the past on purpose.

Still, there is an unspoken rule forbidding the mention of what happened, of the village, of those two brothers. After experiencing hell, what would be the benefit of forcibly bringing you back to that horrible past? In this remote place, you have the chance to start from scratch, and your rescuers believe it is the least you deserve.

Little by little, you gradually learn everything all over again. Your own name, your age, information about those around you. You ask with animosity about everything you don’t understand, and the only thing there is reluctance to answer is when you want to know about who you were before... this.

Healers get the problem off their shoulders, rushing you to ask such questions to the older people. They shoo you out of their humble hut with nervousness and red faces, panic in their eyes.

Seniors sigh as they stare into nothingness, sadness and nostalgia, painting their countenances with something you cannot grasp. Some even drop a couple of tears to the rhythm of a depressing whisper, “oh poor child...”

The scene makes you feel so guilty you end up consoling them, assuring it’ s not a big deal and you don’t need to be told. That your life in this small place with them is all you need to be happy, past or no past.

Regardless, it is the scar monstrously painting your stomach which makes you uneasy. While tracing the edges of that sensitive skin with your fingertips, you feel its reason for existence is on the tip of your tongue. As if reminders of what happened to you are lingering there, buried in your head, but creeping closer to your memory every time you look at your navel.

What happened? What terrible thing could have left such an enormous mark on your skin, but not in your head?

It’s frustrating.

Eventually, curiosity to explore beyond your own narrow world peaks. It’s quite natural, considering four older men and four medicine buffs rarely make for an interesting group of company. Older men drink tea most of the day, when they’re not napping in the sun, of course. The rest read rigorously and debate among themselves about their newly gained knowledge.

Getting permission is a complicated task. They are terribly afraid of your departure, scared of your fate, frightened of what dangers you might encounter.

But how to keep you there forever, when you have seen the vivid movement the closest town has?

Perhaps it was your rescuers’ mistake for allowing you to go exploring within the boundaries they considered safe, yet you inevitably discovered such a place, so close and yet so far away, so full of people and... life. Persons of all ages walking from one side to the other, food you never saw before displayed in various stalls, children playing with each other, unaware of the surrounding universe. Everything looks completely natural, as if folks are used to this kind of lifestyle since long ago, and you wonder if you ever lived in a similar environment.

Just what hides in your past?

After insistence and great pleas against the overprotection imparted on you, they understand it is simply hopeless to make you give up your idea unless they expose all those shocking events, unless they explain from what kind of danger it is necessary for you to hide, from whom it is imperative you escape.

No one knew anymore about that demon after his disappearance the same day, and it is uncertain where he is. Whether he is hiding or far from your current home, it is unknown to anyone, and it would invoke bad luck if your guardians expected you to meet him face to face once you get away from them.

Preparation of weeks and many directions, you finally depart from your unnoticed hideout in the world, leaving behind anxious seniors and worried healers.

It was agreed you could explore for a couple of months, but your eventual return is a binding closure on the deal you reluctantly struck. Each new destination brings with it new discoveries, tastes, experiences. You always find charitable souls willing to help when you are short of food, water or shelter, people who offer to give directions when you get disoriented, people who share stories with you on lonely, nostalgic nights.

With each step you take in the outside world, less you understand what your guardians are afraid of. Everyone is well meaning, and no one seeks to take advantage of your innocence. It is incomprehensible why this was denied to you for so long, and every time you think of your precious little home, an emptiness grows in your heart.

Weeks slowly pass, and having experienced so much in such a short time, you find the need to recount it to those you consider your family. As initially agreed, it may be time to return, to prove the world is not as terrible as they feared.

A few miles from homeland, just as you feel you are walking the grounds of your family again, you stop at a stream to get a drink of water, determined not to slow down until you reach your destination. It is too much of a thrill to witness those 8 insane people bickering and arguing. You absentmindedly smile as you rinse your face.

In your distraction, you cannot hear footsteps approaching at your back. It’s not like you would have detected them if you were paying attention either, for the person stalking you is deliberately careful, calculating.

Turning, your face affects directly into a solid mass of muscle, sending you tumbling down the riverbank again. Any woman would have assumed the worst when connecting glances with a man who invades her personal space unannounced, but from your mouth comes a concerned “Are you okay?”

The man, who is watching you as if a ghost were sitting next to you in the water and you were unaware of it, bleeds. Profusely, indeed. Both of his hands are deeply cut, distinct wounds on his palms dripping thickly to the ground.

There is no answer to your question, and the man’s countenance is difficult to decipher. His eyes glow a red which fades too quickly to analyze, his complexion is completely pale and unhealthy, his hair points in all directions, forming a long brown tangle which you deduce has not been combed for some time. For moments, it is as if there are words trying to pierce his lips, but the stupor of the individual continues.

“Your hands... we really should take care of them, shouldn’t we? Aiya, let this humble one help you heal.”

There is no reaction as you stand up and take him by the arm, guiding him to a large rock away from the water and helping him to sit up. His gaze is still completely fixed on your face, searching for something you’ re oblivious to. His mouth opens and closes rapidly, agitated breaths accompanied by sounds resembling syllables.

“Look at this mess alone... sir, you should be cautious walking along the bed of these waters. They are treacherous, hm?”

Ripping off one of your sleeves, previously dampened when you fell into the water, you use the cloth to clean his wounds. There’s not much you can do here, out in the open and in these conditions, but judging by the man’s appearance, he was probably recently attacked. When you mention your little home a few miles away, the man doesn’t refuse or accept.

Still, when you head back to the road, you find the fellow following you from behind, head down and staring at the ground. In his hands he tightly clenches the cloth of your sleeve, and blood stains the fabric completely at this point. You talk about the healers in your place, and how they can help him get better, but no matter how much you try, the man never responds. You ponder whether, perhaps, the situation he experienced before he ran into you may have been intense, and you attribute his perturbation to that.

After walking without pause all afternoon, your silent companion always keeping your own pace, your destination appears in front of you. From afar, you can see the elders sitting on the engawa of their cottage, sharing tea and quietly waiting for dusk. All is silent, and your announcement of arrival is the only thing disturbing the atmosphere.

Your arms wave vigorously to catch the attention of those you regard as family, a splendorous smile planted on your face, walking at an increased speed to catch up with them. An extended curtsey bow is given before them, and only after raising your head you dare to give them all a group hug, false formality forgotten as much as your guest.

The man slowly approaches this scene and analyzes the faces of those present as the embrace takes place. Had you not been turning your back on him, you may have noticed the change in his countenance, coldness creeping over his features from one moment to the next. None of the elders noticed his noiseless presence, not even having sensed it to begin with, and it is not until one of them finishes smiling and opens his eyes to come face to face with their worst fear.

Suddenly the hug is interrupted when this old man lets out a shriek, trying to back away and losing his balance. You follow his line of sight while turning, and find that innocent-looking stranger again, disoriented. There are screams all around you. Seniors are horrified and collapse on the floor next to each other, completely surrendered to the gaze of the demon fixed on them.

“Don’t behave like that! It would appear it wasn’t you guys who taught me manners... I’m so sorry, sir, they’re not used to dealing with travelers, let alone wounded ones... if you’d be so kind as to follow me?”

Throwing a withering glance at the group of elders, you direct your guest to the house the healers occupy. True, your little family is not used to encountering men in the state this very one is in, but you never expected such an exaggeration. A bit of unkempt hair and blood, pale skin, and they’re all screaming on the floor?

The reaction of the healers is not much different, and after reprimanding them for behaving so shamefully, you get them to treat the man’s hands. Leaving them alone so as not to disturb the setting, you make your way to the third and final cottage, your own. Since the other houses occupy four people each, it would be problematic to ask them to accommodate your own guest, and you take your time assembling an extra bed, improvising with blankets.

Nighttime is delightfully quiet, and as the door opens without warning, you greet the individual with a smile. Elders have taken the trouble to bring food for both you and him, announcing neither they nor the healers were in the mood to share dinner together.

The man’s hands are bandaged, his palms completely covered, and his thumbs trapped in the wrappings. He looks uncomfortable, and it shows in his inability to do anything on his own. His chopsticks are impossible to hold as he kneels on the floor and tries to eat, and after many urgings from you, he nods silently and almost imperceptibly, allowing you to help him.

“You see... you’re here, eating my food, under my roof, safe and comfortable... and I still don’t know your name...”

Teasing is imminent in your voice, hoping to relax him, if only a little. As he takes another bite and chews, his eyes are fixed on the table, like trying to hide from your presence.

After analyzing the end of your day alongside this presence, you assessed this man must be terribly shy, perhaps someone properly introverted. Still, observing his features, you get a strange familiarity, a feeling making you let your guard down and relax in front of him. A secret knocking at the door of your mind, demanding to burst in front of you but being invisible at the same time.

“... Uchiha...”

Without expecting an answer anymore, after several minutes, his voice surprises you. It sounds like that of someone who rarely uses it, raspy and rusty, as if it had been forgotten long ago, and not even the man himself remembers its ringing.

“Um?”

“Lord Uchiha...”

His name, you realize. Formal, a title.

Lord Uchiha continues in the same position, just like his words had been an illusion. It is impossible to keep giving him food, his attitude surly and refusing, and you wonder if he plans to spend the entire night in the same position if you allow him to.

Demandingly, you get him up and offer him your bed for the night.

He tries to take the spot you set up on the floor, and displays physical strength far beyond what you thought he had. There are firm muscles hiding under his stained white tunic, and they flex slightly every time he tries to change the course you both walk. He is probably holding back, you realize, for the way his forearm tenses. The stubbornness of this individual… as if he were someone unaccustomed to taking orders, leading rather than listening. Either way, he ends up tucked inside your room, buried under sheets and quilts so he doesn’t get cold.

You find your own resting place after closing the door and leaving your guest. There is not much room inside your small home, and yet, the greatest comforts are offered to those who really need them.

That night, a fearsome nightmare assaults your dreams. A pitch-black claw pierces your stomach from both sides, long nails tearing through skin and tissue like cloth. Blood pools at your feet, solidifying and making escape impossible. You feel your lips move in a choked scream, and a single word escapes your throat along with another red waterfall.

“... Indra...”

#Indra #otsutsuki indra #indra otsutsuki #otsutsuki clan #naruto #Naruto Shippuden #indra x reader #indra otsutsuki x reader

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guettaes · 4 years ago

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Resident Evil: Infinite Darkness Director Brings a Bittersweet Leon to Life

Director Eiichirō Hasumi discussed the process of bringing Resident Evil: Infinite Darkness to life and his youthful take on Leon Kennedy.

Resident Evil: Infinite Darkness is the fourth CGI animation set within the Resident Evil universe. Taking place between the events of Resident Evil 4 and Resident Evil 5, the animated series centers around Leon Kennedy and Claire Redfield -- two previous protagonists of the franchise who debuted in Resident Evil 2. Leon and Claire find themselves chasing the same lead as they investigate an attack on the White House. As the pair search for answers, they confront not just the undead but a well-kept secret from Penamstan's past.

Directing the impressive series is Eiichirō Hasumi, known for his work on the Umizaru film and television series. Resident Evil: Infinite Darkness marks Hasumi's first foray into animation and the world of Resident Evil. In an exclusive interview with CBR, Hasumi spoke about the global appeal of zombies and what it was like joining the classic horror franchise.

Hasumi, who previously adapted Assassination Classroom to a live-action television series, discussed what it was like directing an animated project for the first time. Reflecting on his time directing Resident Evil: Infinite Darkness, Hasumi shared, "This was my first full CGI animation project, so obviously that was a challenge. Not to mention, [Resident Evil] has fans all across the globe. So it was really exciting to be a part of it and a really fun production to be a part of. Although I don't have any experience making anime, I approached it like it was a live-action feature, so it wasn't a challenge in that way."

He continued, "However, I'm not a gamer, so, I hadn't actually played the games like so many of the franchise's fans have. I wanted to make sure the tone and the feel felt just right." For that expertise, Hasumi revealed that "a lot of that came from our producer, Hiroyuki Kobayashi." Kobayashi is a producer with Capcom, who actually got his start by working on Capcom's first Resident Evil game as a programmer. Thanks to his depth of experience with the franchise, Kobayashi "helped [him] and guided [him] in regards to the details." He added, "I was also greatly helped because the mo-cap actors who played Leon and Claire had both been part of the franchise in the past. For me, it was like jumping into a live-action franchise."

The Resident Evil franchise has been a global juggernaut in pop culture for over twenty-five years; but, it's certainly not the only zombie project in media. Looking at the pop-culture history of the undead, Hasumi recalled being a child and seeing George A. Romero's horror film Night of the Living Dead for the first time. He shared, "I remember getting really excited watching that as a child. It's interesting... Students making independent films, a lot of people make zombie films. I don't know why we do that. Of course, there must be passionate zombie fans who do that too. Maybe it's because it's kind of a rule that you can base the story on that's globally recognized. It was new when I was growing up, but now it's become a classic. It's timeless. It's enigmatic."

Starting as a zombie-led video game series, the franchise branched out into multiple corners of mass media. The Resident Evil franchise has developed a memorable and deep cast of characters, with Leon S. Kennedy growing to become one of the series' most iconic figures. But this isn't the only reason he's been at the center of the animated films, according to Hasumi. "In all of the four CGI animations," he explained, "Leon has always been a protagonist. This is, according to Kobayashi, because Leon is an agent. He has more freedom, which gives us more freedom as storytellers to move him around the way we want. With Chris Redfield, he's a B.S.A.A. Agent and that makes it a little difficult for... He doesn't have that kind of freedom."

Looking through the history of the Resident Evil series, and its established canon, the producers of the series ended up planting it in 2006 due to how well it fit in the narrative. Hasumi explained, "That was an opening we had. No stories had been told during that time. It fit perfectly there. As I was looking at Resident Evil: Vendetta [which takes places canonically after Resident Evil: Infinite Darkness], Leon is already fatigued with all the things he's done, all the battles he's experienced. He's actually drinking a lot. He's very different from the very first introduction of him as a young cop in Raccoon City when everything was about justice.

"I wanted to find a place between that, where he's maturing, where's he being a little bittersweet about life," he added. "He can't do everything based on justice as Claire does. It's not like he sides with the government, but he's in a very vague place and I wanted to show him maturing as a person... That's why the visual of him wearing a suit was very important to us. It's like your college friends, after starting their jobs, start wearing suits. You feel a little bit different about them, how they're going about their life. For me, it was kind of like that."

Directed by Eiichiro Hasumi, Resident Evil: Infinite Darkness stars Nick Apostolides as Leon S. Kennedy, Stephanie Panisello as Claire Redfield, Ray Chase as Jason, Jona Xiao as Shen May, Billy Kametz as Patrick, Joe J. Thomas as Graham, Doug Stone as Wilson and Brad Venable as Ryan. The CG anime premieres on Netflix, July 8.

Information by Me 🙂

Me: yes but there are secrets about Leon. now in the animation and games I say "how could he survive more deadly situations?" and Re vendetta how he wasn’t so drunk, there’s strong whiskey in that movie, and if he had it all here, he should have been drunk enough even if it was a few glasses. and how the spine of Re damnation and the Vendetta had not been broken, with such momentum it would have been broken. "maybe Leon is almost like Wesker."

And Leon fans said: Leon is a superman! And God agent! 😂

#resident evil #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #biohazard #leon scott kennedy #claire resident evil #resident evil 2 #resident evil infinite darkness #infomation #my info #capcom

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anjuschiffer · 4 years ago

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Magical Date

I wasn’t going to write anything for Daminette December, and yet! Here I am! While thinking of a concept for Day 5, I then remembered that there were people who wanted a follow up for Spellbound, so I combined the two!

Enjoy!

For @daminette-december2019-2020‘s Day 5: Sweater

Tag: @theatreandcomicfreak @damianette-is-life @toodaloo-kangaroo @elijahcrevan @vixen-uchiha @nathleigh

AO3 | Wattpad

Marinette stood by the Leyline Terminal, muttering to herself as she did a mental checklist.

ID? Check.

Purse? Check.

Phone? Check.

Sketchbook and pencils? Check.

Wand? Check.

Extra batteries? Check.

Hat?....

“How did I forget my hat?” Marinette whined, scanning her room for it but knew there was no use in looking for it when she couldn’t find it.

It was almost time to meet with Damian, so if she wanted to meet him in time, she’d just have to go without it.

Grabbing her purse, Marinette took off.

She yelled and apologized to friends she almost bumped into, ignoring their questions of ‘where are you heading?’ She slowed down and speed walked when she saw teachers and the headmistress, flashing an awkward smile as she waved at her.

Running past the campus’ quad, Marinette managed to get to the Leyline Terminal on time, wanting to collapse to the floor as soon as she got there.

“Worried you were going to be late for our date?” Damian teased.

“Well, I wouldn’t- Damian!” Marinette squeaked, feeling the tips of her ears glow with heat. “Ha-how long have you been-”

“Not long.” Damian replied, standing in front of her. “Are you ready to head out?” Grinning, Marinette nodded.

“Yup!”

She followed Damian, confused when he suddenly stopped. “What’s wrong?” She asked, peering over his shoulder, wondering why he was hesitant to walk into the empty-

Empty?

“The car that dropped me off...is gone.” Damian huffed, not believing that Dick actually meant what he said earlier. He really did mean it when he said that Damian should use his own efforts to make their outing a success.

“Gone? So, they-”

“Left? Yes.” Damian sighed, taking out his phone to text his father only for Marinette to place her hand over his. He looked up. “What’s wrong?”

“We can still get to the other side without your car.”

“How?” Damian asked, wondering how exactly did she think they would get to the other side of the magical barrier without-

He watched as she whipped out her wand, a broad smile across her face. “Right. Magic.”

“Make sure to not move around too much. We might fall and get lost in the Leyline if you do.” Marinette warned, looking at her wand and then at him. “Would you like to try casting the spell?”

Damian looked at the wand she was offering him and received it. “How does the spell go?”

Smiling, Marinette placed her hands over his, adjusting his posture before letting go.

“First, you have to close your eyes.” He did. “Now, repeat after me. Tia Freye!”

“Tia Freye!” Damian recited, opening his eyes when he felt himself being lifted off the floor, watching as a magic circle lifted them to the ceiling above them, watching as it bursted open, green speckles of stardust falling past them.

Awestruck, Damian watched as they made their way into the Leyline, not being able to take his eyes off the minty scenery around them.

“Do you have a place of mind? Or would you like to go to the default station in England?”

Damian looked at Marinette, her hair- were in a pair of twin braids...it suited her just like her pigtails.

“The Leyline can take us anywhere?” Damian asked. She nodded. “Anywhere? Even if I haven’t been there in a while?” Marinette nodded again.

“You just have to concentrate on the place in mind while we exit the Leyline. With the place in mind, the Leyline will lead you to the closest terminal in that country.”

“I see.” Damian said, concentrating on the place he had in mind. “Hope you don’t mind some cave exploring.”

They ended up in New Zealand, Marinette taken back by the time difference. It was already late at night, but that didn’t deter Damian from taking her out as he had promised her.

After a few minutes, Damian had managed to buy some food and a blanket before guiding Marinette to their next destination...which happened to be at the other side of a dark forest.

“Trust me,” was all Damian said once they stepped foot, Marinette following him,

Marinette could feel herself shiver as the two wandered through the dark greenery, Marinette having to double check each step she took, envying Damian.

Aside from having a cozy sweater to keep him warm, he walked through the forest with such confidence, he didn’t have to look where to step. He just walked.

“Damian, where exactly are we?”

“If I tell you know, it will ruin the surprise.” He blatantly said. “Be careful around here. There are some rather steep-“

Just as he said that, he jinxed her.

Marinette let out a yelp as she was about to fall to the lower level of the hill when Damian grabbed her just in time.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” He lifted her up, glad to see no visible injuries. “Are you alright?”

“If anything, just shocked.”

“I should’ve been guiding you more properly than just telling you to follow me.” Damian offered his hand, Marinette taking it. “If only we had more-“

“Light!” Marinette exclaimed, causing Damian to jump a bit. “We can use my wand to-“

“I thought using magic outside of Luna Nova was against the rules.” Damian watched as Marinette nervously laughed, putting back her wand into her purse.

“Well, using our wands outside of campus is against the rules. They never said anything about communicating with the sprites already there.”

Damian watched Marinette grin as she crouched to the ground.

“What are you-“

Marinette held a finger to her lips before she began to sing.

As she continued to sing, Damian became mesmerized by the glowing bud that sprouted out from the ground, opening up to show a tiny forest sprite that hummed in sync with Marinette’s lovely singing.

When the sprite stopped humming, so did Marinette.

“Hello. My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I was wondering if you would be so generous as to help light up the forest a bit while we get to our destination. Of course, I would reward you with these.”

Damian watched as the tiny forest sprite eagerly twirled around when Marinette showed it some crystal daisies in her hands.

The sprite eagerly accepted the gift, giving Marinette a smile before disappearing and reappearing with more of its kind. “Thank you very much!” Marinette dropped some more crystal flowers for the sprites before getting up and joining Damian’s side.

“How-“

“I learned how to speak and invoke sprites when I was three. My grandmother taught me during her summer stays. It’s the only form of magic that came naturally to me.”

Damian hummed. “So, shall we continue our exploration?”

At those words, Damian nodded, once more offering his hand to her, which she accepted.

With the help of the forest sprites, Damian was finally able to reach the cave entrance he had been wanting to show Marinette.

“Marinette, do they only like those crystal flowers you gave them?” Damian asked as he turned to see the second to last sprite disappear.

“Hmmm. They like the crystal daisies because it’s actually crystallized mana that they can consume. Once consumed, the mana allows them to produce more of their magic. However, they do like gemstones as well. It’s like some type of currency within the sprite world.”

Marinette watched Damian hum, retrieving something in his pocket and crouched to the last forest spirit’s level.

She watched with wide eyes as he handed a ruby to the spirit, who also gasped at the gift.

“Thank you for your help. We really appreciate it.”

Damian watched as the spirit hugged his hand before disappearing, a smile on their face as it snuggled closely to the newly acquired gem.

“That was kind of you.” Marinette said with a smile, giving Damian’s hand a squeeze.

“It was the correct thing to do.” Damian said, gesturing to Marinette to follow him.

The two kept walking into the dark cave when Marinette began to see tiny glowing blue lights start to appear more and more above them.

Soon, they found themselves surrounded by these sparkling blue stars, Marinette taken away by the scenery. It was like looking at a clear starry night.

As they kept going further into the cave, Marinette didn’t realize Damian had casted another “tia freye” causing the two to drift through the rest of the cave.

Marinette stretches out her hand to try and reach for them, but she was pleased to know she couldn’t.

“It’s beautiful.” She found herself softly whispering.

“And so are you.” Damian replies, Marinette thanking the tiny stars that their light was dim enough to hide her blush.

But even though her blush was hidden, she knew her feelings were still there for him to see.

“To think something this beautiful is being hidden from the world.”

“My mother brought me here once. When I was very young.” Damian told her. “Waitomo Caves. Home to the bioluminescent creature, Arachnocampa Luminosa.”

“Bioluminescent glow worms.” Marinette said back, watching as they were nearing the end of the cave.

“But that’s not why I brought you here.” Damian confessed, Marinette wondering what exactly could best the fantasy world they were just in. “Close your eyes.”

She did.

She felt as the two were now on dry land, or rather, grass.

She felt as a nice breeze blew across her face, her body trembling. She guessed Damian must have seen it as she felt him drape something over her, his scent on the sweater causing her to blush.

“Are we almost there?”

“Almost.” Damian told her, Marinette continuing to follow him.

She felt as he let go of her hand and walked around her, Marinette hearing what seemed to be rocks moving and a curse here and there, causing her to giggle.

When he slipped his hand back into hers, Marinette followed his lead. “Open your eyes.”

Marinette felt out of breath when she opened them, wishing to forever remain in that ethereal moment. For time to stop so that she could take in the beauty that was in front of her.

“Mon Dieu. It’s gorgeous.” Marinette, taking slow steps as she kept adoring the night sky above them. “I never thought I would ever be able to see the Milky Way in anything other than a textbook, tapestries or the holographic form we use in astronomy class.

They look so- oh! Damian! Look over there! That’s Crux!” Marinette squealed, taking out her phone and taking a picture of it. She then took out her sketchbook and quickly began to draw it, a few notes being taken at the side.

“Crux?” Damian asked, taking a seat on the makeshift picnic area he made for the two of them. He watched as Marinette kept staring at the stars above them, the Milky Way perfectly reflected against her bluebell eyes.

“Crux, often called the Southern Cross. Because Crux hasn’t been able to go over the horizon since 400 BC, northern countries like England, aren’t able to see it anymore.” Marinette pulled Damian’s sweater closer to her body. “To think I’m seeing it for the first time like this…” She turned to Damian, a shooting star passing behind her. “Thank you.

Thank you for bringing me here.”

“Seems like we’re here.” Marinette said, Damian picking up on the tint of sadness underlaid in her words.

By the time Damian and Marinette got back to Luna Nova, it had become evening, 17:00 to be exact.

During their flight back, Damian watched as Marinette longed to remain under those stars, staring at the sky above them the entire trip, as if hoping it would’ve followed her back.

Waitomo Caves and the scenery of the Milky Way on that mountain could never be replicated here at Luna Nova. Even if it was recently rejuvenated with the plethora of magic, no magic could do nature’s lovely masterpieces’ true justice.

“You seem...down.” Damian obviously pointed out, not expecting Marinette to laugh at his observation.

“I guess...I kinda wished we could’ve stayed there for a bit longer.” Marinette confessed, playing with the ends of her braids, only then realizing she still had on his sweater.

She completely forgot she had it on thanks to how soft it was despite being a bit big and long it was on her. “Oh! Here! Thank you for lend-”

“Keep it.” Damian said, stopping her from taking it off, gently holding her wrist in his hand.

“But-”

“Keep it.”

“Damian, it’s y-”

“I could simply buy another one just like it.” Damian fought back, watching Marinette pout, causing him to chuckle. “Keep it. I don’t mind you being its new owner.”

He watched as Marinette huffed in defeat, pulling the sweater closer to her small frame.

Would she look just as good in anything that was his?

“I know I said this before, but thank you,” Marinette said, placing her hand on his shoulder, using it to lift herself off the ground to place a chaste kiss on his cheek. “For everything.”

Damian remained still as he watched her wave goodbye, walking into the dorm that was her home at Luna Nova.

Covering the smile that arose to his face, Damian could feel the glee swelling inside him as he made his way back home.

Marinette couldn’t believe it. She actually kissed him! Sure, it was on the check, but it was still something.

Not being able to contain it any longer, she let out a squeal, now dancing towards her room.

With a hum, Marinette opened up her room and slipped inside, letting out a giggle as she pulled Damian’s sweater close to her face.

“Seems like someone’s date was a success.” A voice spoke, causing Marinette to yelp, feeling her entire face burn in embarrassment.

Turning to her left, oh how she wanted to transform into a mouse to escape the hunter in front of her. Sadly, she used up all her extra batteries on the date.

“A-Alya. Shouldn’t you be-”

“-in detention? Well, let’s just say the added detention is going to be sooo worth it. So come on! Tell me! How’d your date go? And don’t tell me it wasn’t one when he clearly gave you that bracelet on your wrist. We’ve been living together for quite a while -even go shopping with you- and I’ve never seen that bracelet until now.”

Marinette snapped her attention to the newly acquired bracelet, a double black leather bracelet with a single ladybug at its center.

When did he slip it onto her? “So? Spill!”

“Well,” Marinette started. “It was magical!”

#maribat #daminette #Daminette December 2020 #anju writes

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acatinabox · 4 years ago

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Is Mystra a jerk?

One of my latest posts has had a bit of attention. The point someone made was that a cleric of Mystra should know how fickle she is so she shouldn’t have a special reaction to it during Gale’s confession scene, as I claimed in my original post. I wanted to address this matter on a separate post because first, my answer proved to be too long for a comment; second, it led me to some new interesting findings in the lore I wanted to share.

It is true, if we look at the wikis, that Mystra has done some quite morally dubious stuff in the millennia:

She has produced seven daughters without the consent of their father and led to the death of their mother (who was possessed for the whole time).

She has given an avatar of hers to said father to torture as retribution for what she did to her;

She has forsaken one of her chosen one leading him to madness and to creating an evil cult;

Etcetera.

First of all, we should address whether this, in the moral framework of the Forgotten Realms, constitutes evil behaviour.

To which the answer is... eh. As per rule books, she is currently aligned as neutral good, but in the past her old incarnation was lawful neutral, with her being the arbiter of all magic. Most recently, Shar has tried to take over parts of the Weave and hence absorb certain parts of magic in her portfolio (with dubious results). In the grand scheme of things, she is generally allied with good deities, such as Selune, and the public’s perception of Mystra is that of her being a munificent mother who has gifted humanity with magic, sometimes at the cost of self sacrifice.

This leads us to the question: should her actions be held to the same standards as player characters and NPCs in terms of alignment shifts? Well that is a bit of a complex question. What we know of Mystra is that she can predict the future and will manipulate events to a certain extent in order to fulfill what is best for the progress of arcane arts. My opinion is that she is more of a guardian of good as “the bigger picture”, even if it comes at a cost in terms of hurting some individuals.

There is also the matter of determining what “good” is, in more absolute terms. Because lawful good paladins and chaotic good rebels could be pushed to do some pretty extreme stuff to protect their ideals or to further their cause or when faced with complex moral dilemmas such as: is killing a red dragon cub an evil act in itself, when adult red dragons generally become evil and destructive?

But is Mystra capricious? Well, it is really hard to tell, since she is a deity that can see the future, but so far all her actions have been motivated by the protection of the greater good and in general fighting evil deities like the Dead Three and Shar.

How her follower see her less morally pristine actions? This is one of the crucial points I’d like to address. All the actions that I mentioned, including producing the Seven Sisters at the expense of their mortal mother, are not really well known. The handbooks make it a point to tell the player that this is not common knowledge. The handbook that addresses the dragon cult founded by Sammaster clearly states that it is DM only knowledge and that unless there is a good reason to, players won’t know about it. Even the Seven Sisters do not seem to know precisely the tale of their origin (I read multiple sources on this and it appears they don’t even know the identity of their father, whom some of them meet).

It is safe then to assume that Gale, or also a devout player character, would not know of this less than bright side of her. They would not expect it.

And if you consider that the more publicly known lovers she had (Azuth, for instance, but also possibly Elminster, although we don’t know how much of his adventures is common knowledge) are legendary wizards (gods), then you can clearly understand that for the goddess to sleep with a mortal is not a common occurrence, and it will certainly lead to a strong reaction.

Moreover, after the last all out god war brought a ton of destruction to the material plane, Ao (who’s like, daddy god) imposed that deities do not manifest physically in the material plane anymore, if not through clerics. And while Mystra is a bit above these rules and has kept in touch with her daughters, I don’t think this would be common knowledge as well, because her daughters currently are in positions of power, hence not very accessible to a common cleric.

So no, a cleric of Mystra would not have solid ground to think their goddess is capricious or flirty or whatever.

All in all, I think discovering that your new boyfriend has quite literally fucked your goddess that you devoted your life to deserves a little bit of surprise at least, and since most of the other scenes with Gale have at least a special reaction connected to the Cleric of Mystra tag, if not two, I expected for there to be anything, during the confession scene, which wasn’t the case.

In terms of lore the implications of sleeping with your goddess’s estranged lover are pretty severe: you could lose your powers because you could have inadvertently slept with an enemy of her or someone who is forbidden, etc. It is not a trivial matter at all.

That said, I will personally punch Mystra in the face for hurting Gale, and if his version is indeed the whole truth, so will my Rayne.

This is my take on all this. Feel free to tell me what you think, but I have a request: be polite about it. I don’t mind if you disagree, as long as you do it with respect. I’ve read quite a few posts on the Gale tag where people treated others’ opinions as ridiculous, mocked them, or felt their own opinion was the only one acceptable. I honestly think this is damaging to the fandom and to people who are exposed to it. So just don’t do it. Behave like adults. Thanks.

#gale of waterdeep #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #Baldurs Gate Spoilers #baldur's gate lore

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nordleuchten · 4 years ago

Note

Hi ! Facts about the Lafayette couple. Thanks.

Hello Anon,

well, well, the La Fayette couple, Adrienne and Gilbert - where to even begin with these two? Their marriage was arranged and arranged marriages were very common for the time and people of their position. A family with wealth, a title and influence was keen on preserving all of this – and tried to add to it by trying to arranging marriages with families who as well had at least one of these things. A truly popular combination was a family with a great name/title that had fallen on hard times and a very rich family without too great a name. Now, La Fayette and Adrienne were lucky in so far as that they really loved each other. Their marriage was far more than pure convenience. Still, not everything was picture perfect. La Fayette had different mistresses and although he loved Adrienne, I always feel like it took him quite some time to realise just how wonderful Adrienne truly was, how loyal and devoted. It was not entirely uncommon that a man and a women in an arranged marriage barely know each other prior to their marriage. That again was different with La Fayette and Adrienne. La Fayette actually lived with his future in-laws together in their house prior to the marriage. Behind the scenes everything had already been sorted out, but the bride and the groom were still none the wiser (although La Fayette was told before Adrienne was told). Partly responsible for this living-arrangement was Adrienne’s mother, the Duchess d’Ayen. She was the metaphorical lioness protecting her cubs. She was fiercely protective of her daughters and thought that Adrienne was still way too young. So La Fayette moved in with them, they had some time to get to know each other and to mature a bit. La Fayette also won over the Duchess, who was a bit skeptical at first.

When La Fayette and Adrienne finally married, she was fourteen and he was sixteen. Their marriage contract stated that they should continue to live with Adrienne’s family and that their marriage was not be consumed for some time. This rule again was included due to the input of the Duchess – who still thought her daughter way too young for any martial endeavours. Regardless of that, Adrienne became pregnant with the couples first child during this proposed period – the popular opinion is, that La Fayette after some time simply wanted to be with Adrienne and sneaked into her room (something that he supposedly confessed to later in life). Whatever happened, they both seemed quite happy.

When La Fayette departed for America, Adrienne was completely clueless, she said that herself but there is also circumstancel evidence to support her statement. She had a young and sickly daughter to look after, a daughter that would die a few months later when La Fayette was still in America. She furthermore was pregnant with their second child and Paris was on fire with rumours. Newspapers printed rumours about La Fayette’s death on the field or something similar every other day and she often had no possibility of hearing from her husbands for months and months (before La Fayette’s first return to France they had not heard from one another for roughly eight months). The news of the death of their oldest child Henriette reached La Fayette so late that he send Adrienne many letters asking about Henriette, asking if she was well, long after Henriette was deceased. But despite all of it, Adrienne put up a brave face in public and never complaint. In general, whether she agreed with her husband or nor, weather she liked what he did or not, she never criticised him in public, never embarrassed or questioned him in front of others.

After the conclusion of the war in America La Fayette and Adrienne together with their children moved into their own home. They were, for people of their time and status, very engaged parents. They started hosting their “American Dinners” on Mondays and Adrienne was also included in La Fayette’s “Plantation-Project”. La Fayette kept a lively correspondence with George Washington but Adrienne also exchanged letters with Washington. There is one lovely, humours account by Washington in a letter to La Fayette dated September 30, 1779:

“(...) But at present must pray your patience a while longer, till I can make a tender of my most respectful compliments to the Marchioness. Tell her (if you have not made a mistake, & offered your own love instead of hers to me) that I have a heart susceptable of the tenderest passion, & that it is already so strongly impressed with the most favourable ideas of her, that she must be cautious of putting loves torch to it; as you must be in fanning the flame. But here again methinks I hear you say, I am not apprehensive of danger—My wife is young—you are growing old & the atlantic is between you—All this is true, but know my good friend that no distance can keep anxious lovers long asunder, and that the Wonders of former ages may be revived in this—But alas! will you not remark that amidst all the wonders recorded in holy writ no instance can be produced where a young Woman from real inclination has prefered an old Man—This is so much against me that I shall not be able I fear to contest the prize with you—yet, under the encouragement you have given me I shall enter the list for so inestimable a jewell.”

This is just such a funny, carefree, teasing letter between the three of them. Its adorable. But these carefree times soon came to an end with the onset of the French Revolution (you could argue that the Revolution had already begun long prior to 1789 but in that year it rapidly gained speed).

La Fayette entangled himself in the political and military matters of the day and when everything started to go down the hill (from his perspective at least) he tried to fled to America and got caught before he even could reach a harbour. Adrienne and the children stayed behind in France. Now, it had became some sort of custom that the women of (aristocrat) man who fled France during the Revolution “divorced” her husbands. (“Divorce” because these divorces were often not real civil divorces in accordance with the law but more a sort of public separation from their “treacherous and anti-republican” husbands that could get these women a passport and/or out of prison. It also opened them the opportunity to marry again later in life.) Somebody proposed a divorce to Adrienne and she was absolutely repelled by the idea. She had married La Fayette for better and for worse and she would not, not under any circumstance divorce her husband. Period. In fact, she started signing all her papers with “la femme de Lafayette”, “the wife of Lafayette”. After and eventful and fearful time, Adrienne was eventually released from her prison in France. She gathered her two daughters (her son was safe in America with his tutor) and went to Austria were La Fayette was still imprisoned in Olmütz. She had some family connections to the court in Vienna and eventually obtained the permission of sharing her husbands imprisonment. Although accounts vary, all accounts agree that Olmütz was a true hell-hole. Adrienne and her children were treated better than La Fayette - but the treatment was still not good. Soon Adrienne became ill and the prison doctor could not really do anything. Adrienne was told that she was free to go, leave this place behind, find a good doctor, settle down somewhere more comfortable. Nobody wanted to see her suffer or even die. The only stipulation, if she would leave now she was not allowed to ever return – and with that Adrienne stayed and suffered and hasted her death because she would not leave her husband behind. In my opinion her sacrifice at that moment made La Fayette understand just how incredible his wife was. He never forgot what she endured for him and her actions probably lead their relationship to unknown heights.

After they were eventually all released from prison they settled first in Danish-Holstein and then in the Netherlands before returning to France. Adrienne managed to regain a lot of the property that they had previously lost during the Revolution. Although she was successful in that regard, her health (and beauty) was forever ruined. Despite all that she took great joy in seeing her children marry and becoming a grandmother. When Adrienne died on December 24, 1807 La Fayette was absolutely shattered. He wrote a very, very long and very, very sad letter to a friend, retelling Adrienne’s last days and expressing his grieve:

“As yet you have always found me stronger than circumstances, but now this event is stronger than me. Never shall I recover from it. During the thirty - four years of an union in which her tenderness, her goodness, the elevation of her mind, charmed, adorned, honoured my life, I felt myself so used to all that she was to me, that I could not distinguish it from my own existence. She was fourteen, and I was sixteen, when her heart amalgamated itself with everything that could interest me. I knew I loved her, I knew I needed her, but it is only now that I can distinguish what life which I had thought was to have been entirely devoted to worldly matters. (...)”

The letter is really long but so worth the read if you are interested. Really! It is such an honest, open, affectionate and reflected statement of their relationship. Adrienne’s last words were “Je suis toute à vous” (I am all yours) and La Fayette had these words inscribed on a miniature of Adrienne that he constantly had upon his person. Here is an account of the portrait from Jules Germain Cloquets book “Recollections of the Private Life of General Lafayette, etc”:

“In his children he cherished the memory of their mother, (Mademoiselle de Noailles,) whom he had loved most tenderly, and whose name he never mentioned but with visible emotion. One day during his last illness, I surprised him kissing her portrait, which he always wore suspended to his neck in a small gold medallion. Around the portrait were the words, “Je suis à vous ,” and on the back was engraved this short and touching inscription, “ Je vous fus donc une douce compagne: eh bien ! benissez moi .” I have since been informed that regularly every morning Lafayette ordered Bastien [his valet] to leave the room, in which he shut himself up, and taking the portrait in both hands, looked at it earnestly, pressed it to his lips, and remained silently contemplating it for about a quarter of an hour. Nothing was more disagreeable to him than to be disturbed during this daily homage to the memory of his virtuous partner.”

I hope you have/had an awesome day!

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ilguna · 4 years ago

Text

Redamancy - Chapter One (f.o)

summary: it’s time to forgive and repair.

warnings; swearing, mention of trauma

wc; 8.4k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

Well, it’s been five years since you won the Hunger Games.

What an anniversary.

It honestly feels like you won them yesterday. You can recall all your memories as if it hasn’t been years since you stepped foot inside of the arena. Which is no doubt a bad thing. Before you’d ended your therapy a while ago, the therapist told you that you’re holding onto trauma. It’s not going to go away overnight. In fact, they wouldn’t be surprised if it doesn’t go away at all.

Which Reed didn’t like to hear at all, of course. The whole reason he’d gotten you into therapy was to work at you getting better. Unfortunately, neither of you would be reaching that goal. Not with how demanding the boarding school would get as the years would come on.

At first, you thought that everything you’d written down at the very beginning would be enough to suffice. However, the more you think about everything that you’d been through, the more that the details become clearer. Suddenly you’re remembering things that hadn’t existed in the first place.

Reed and Mox hate this habit of yours. They thought you would have buried and left it behind by now. But it’s impossible to do. You’re responsible for hundreds of kids and teenagers. The more you remember at this point, the more they’re able to learn from your mistakes and fix it themselves.

With every passing year, and bringing home a new pair of coffins, you can’t focus on yourself anymore. You think that every year is going to be different and new, that the tributes going in that year are a pair of winners for sure. But then you’re stunned right back into embarrassed silence.

District Four is being forgotten. Once again, you’re questioning why it was ever considered a career in the first place. You can’t produce victors, no matter how hard you try.

It’s frustrating, and almost not worth your time anymore.

Anchor thinks that he’s fixed the problem, though. The both of you know better than anyone that the training centers in the career districts typically train their tributes for years. There’s a reason why their volunteers are seventeen and eighteen, rarely ever sixteen. It’s because they’ve spent years training to be where they are, and they’re sure that they’ll win.

So, you switched up the rules this year. No one under the age of seventeen that goes to the boarding school is allowed to volunteer to go into the Hunger Games. If you’re chosen by chance and want to go in, that’s their deal. The only instance where it’ll be ruined is if someone else volunteers over them. If anyone over seventeen wants to go in, that’s their choice to make. Not the boarding school.

Of course, there’s no guarantee what will happen because of this. You’ve been getting at least one volunteer a year since the boarding school opened. But they’ve always been on the younger side, and have only been in the program for a year or so. They could win, but they’re not nearly as knowledgeable as the teens that have been in the program for years.

They’ve been able to watch and observe the mistakes of others. You think that if one of the seventeen or eighteen year olds that signed up when they were twelve or thirteen were to volunteer, they’d blow the competition out of the water. Show the Capitol and the career districts that you’re coming back for a round two. Bigger and better than ever.

Then again, the seventeen and eighteen year olds never express interest in volunteering because they’re nearly out. One or two years and they’re finally free of the reapings. No one would willingly throw themselves into an arena when they’re on the brink of being away from it. The chances of accidentally getting yourself killed in the arena is always an outcome, prepared or not.

Either way, you hope this year is different and you’re able to break the four-year streak of double coffins.

You head downstairs, fingers still securing the pin in a reliable spot in your hair. When it doesn’t budge no matter how you move your head, you call it good.

Downstairs is already awake. Reed is cooking breakfast, Mox is probably sitting at the table. You can faintly hear the sound of Alyssum talking. It’s only as you reach the bottom creaking steps, does she realize that you’re awake.

“(Y/n)!” She shouts, abandoning what she was saying before.

You find yourself crouching to look into the tiny mirror in an alcove. The pin doesn’t look out of place, in fact you can’t really see it at first glance. Only when you go to touch it, do you find where it is.

Alyssum comes around the corner, a wide smile on her face. It’s clear she hasn’t done her hair yet, waiting on you.

“Where’s your stuff?” You ask.

“Bathroom.” She says.

“Okay, let’s get it done real quick.” You push her towards the bathroom, “We’ll be in there in a minute!”

“No rush.”

You carefully comb through Alyssum’s hair, being gentle when you find snarls. Even if she were in pain, you know that she wouldn’t voice it unless it really hurt. Doesn’t mean that you purposely go ripping the brush through her hair like Reed used to do. You tie her long hair to the back of her neck, and then you loosen it up to make it look better.

“Can you tie this over the rubber band? I’m trying to match with Laleh.”

Alyssum holds up a silk white ribbon. If she had asked you to do this last year, you would have had to tell her no. Naida had to teach you how to do a variety of hairstyles for the boarding school. Sometimes the younger girls aren’t able to tie their hair back, and sometimes they don’t want it to be a ponytail.

Needless to say, you’re starting to feel like a mother. Once the bow is tight over the band, you hold her in front of the mirror, staring into her eyes, “If the bow comes undone, go to Naida or Calandra, stay far away from Reed and Mox, okay?”

She nods once, you let her free so that she can join your brothers at the dining table while you clean up the bathroom counter. It’s a quiet morning, no one really speaks at the table, which isn’t unusual for reaping mornings. Alyssum tends to get upset because you won’t be at the house for several weeks, and you’re already stressing out about what the arena will be like this year.

You know that things would be so much easier in the Capitol if you just had a partner that worked with you. Finnick does absolutely nothing, you’re not even sure if he stays in the apartment half of the time. You never see him, rarely in the morning, you think you hear him leave at night.

He won’t help, he won’t trade with Anchor. You’ve asked him, Anchor has asked him, even Mags has asked him. If he would just give up his mentoring spot to Anchor, you’re sure that you’d come out with a few victors. When you’re doing all the work by yourself, it’s chaotic.

It’s hard to hold a schedule. You’re running between the stylists and prep teams, constantly taking advice from Elysia. When you’re not keeping an eye on the tributes, you’re watching their odds on the scoreboard go up and down depending on how much the sponsors like them. And then when they’re actually inside of the arena, you’re staying up all hours of the night to not miss a single thing. Just in case you miraculously come across a sponsor that sees potential in one of the tributes.

Not to mention the whole boarding school, which is a whole new ordeal. He comes up with the idea, promises to be there to help train no matter what. But after he broke up with you that year, he gradually stopped showing up. So now, the future tributes of District Four are not only out of a valuable side of a story, but they’re also dealing with two overworked victors who just want one break.

It’s bouncing between you and Anchor, sometimes even Mags will have to take over for a day. Which isn’t much help, considering the stroke she had last year. She tried speech therapy, but figured out that it wasn’t working as well as it should early on. Mags gave up on it, the only way she communicates anymore is through notes.

How is that going to work? You’ve got hundreds of teens and preteens relying on an old woman that can’t even speak. Her techniques are out of date, as well as Luther and Scotch. The kids have better chances with you, Finnick and Anchor. Anchor hasn’t been inside of the arena for ten years, and the kids have heard your two strategies a hundred times by now.

If Finnick were to just help. Just a little bit, you’re sure that it would make a difference. But he has such a vendetta against you or the tributes because he won’t budge. You’re fucked, he’s backed you into this impossible corner. Every year since you two won, you’ve brought home double coffins. It’s fucking embarassing. You don’t know how District Four was ever considered a career.

It’s childish, he’s so childish. He hasn’t kept his promise and he’s weaseled his way out of it every single time. And you keep letting him get away with it.

It clicks.

You keep letting him get away with it, you’re not holding him accountable. He doesn’t fall through on his promises because you don’t push them onto him. And when he tells you no, you back off because you think that there’s no point in trying. He hasn’t made an effort in the past, why would he make one when you ask.

You press your lips together, smiling. This year is already supposed to be an experiment to see what happens with the tributes. If everything goes well with this year’s tributes, you think that you’ll try something new yourself.

“We have to stop by Naida’s place before heading over to the stage.” Reed says, standing from the table, taking his plate with him, “We can take Alyssum with us.”

“Okay.” you agree, standing up too. Mox cleans up the rest of the table, taking it into the kitchen to help Reed.

Alyssum comes over, throwing her arms around you tightly. You hug her back, being careful not to ruin her hair, “I’ll be back in a few weeks. Promise me that you’ll be good for Reed and Mox.”

“I promise.” her voice is muffled, face pressed to your stomach.

“I’ll be back before you know it.” you lean down to press a kiss to the top of her head, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

She lets go of you, a frown on her face. But it doesn’t look like she’s going to be crying this year, “I’m leaving!”

“See you later!” Reed shouts back.

You leave the house, shutting the door behind you. As you squint through the bright summer sun, you head down the stone steps and to the left, towards the opening of Victor's Village. This year it’s Anchor’s turn to walk Mags to the stage, since you did it last year. Since they’re relatively slow, though, you’re sure that you’ll be able to catch up in no time.

You’re right, you come across Anchor and Mags more than halfway to the stage. It seems like Mags is doing just fine walking on her own, and Anchor is talking to her. Anchor hears you approaching pretty far back and glances over his shoulder to see that it’s you.

“Good morning!” you jog to catch up, “I see you got an early start today.”

“Haha, shut up.” Anchor says, but cracks up when you do.

Anchor goes back to what he was talking about, and you quickly find out that it’s about the boarding school. It’s an in-depth explanation about your plan this year. Mags knew the basics, but now it’s all about details. You’ll be lucky if you get two tributes that showed promise during training. Otherwise, you’re left with the gamble of the reaping bowls.

Luther and Scotch have already beaten you to the stage when you get there. No Finnick in sight, which you can’t say that you’re surprised about. The five of you get on the stage, leaving the far left seat for Finnick to take when he gets here. Mayor Burrula comes on stage, getting ready to take his spot in front of the podium.

The reaping area in front of you fills. There’s familiar faces in all the age categories, in your mind, you count all the seventeen and eighteen year olds that you know go to the boarding school. It’s a fair amount, most of them are really good at what they know, especially the ones that have been with you for a couple of years now. None of which have ever expressed an interest in volunteering, though. And if they did, it was never to you or Anchor.

Finnick finally shows up when it’s five minutes out from reaping time. The moment after he sits down in his chair, he scoots it two inches away from you. It’s his own personal yearly tradition… on top of all the other ones of neglecting his mentoring duties.

After the anthem, Mayor Burrula kicks off the reaping with the annual Dark Days speech. It’s boring, you try to look awake. As a joke, you can hear Anchor mocking soft snores. You crack a smile, shaking your head when you elbow him to get him to shut up. Burrula wraps the speech up, introduces Elysia as if she hasn’t been District Four’s Capitol escort for the past couple of years, and then sits back down.

She smiles as she does every year, standing in front of the microphone, “Good afternoon, and Happy Hunger Games. Ladies first.”

You hold your breath, all previous emotion draining out of your body. She heads over to the bowl, her gloved hand dipping into the bowl. She hesitates over the paper, trying to find one that’ll hold the golden tribute. If you have a girl volunteer this year, it’s not going to matter. She could pick a twelve year-old and they could be replaced by a seventeen or eighteen year-old.

She picks one, carefully pulls her hand out of the bowl, and resumes her spot in front of the microphone. She takes her time peeling off the black tape, not wanting to rip the paper. She reads over the name, and with the distance between you and her, you’re not able to see the name.

Still, you mentally cross your fingers. It’s a new year, a new plan. Please, please, please.

“District Four’s girl tribute is Shilin Brisby.” Elysia pronounces the name carefully, and then looks up to the section of girls.

The name isn’t familiar, and there’s no movement in the girl section. You wait, leaning forward slightly to see if the crowd will out her. But before that can happen, the magic words are being shouted, “I volunteer!”

In the eighteen section, out comes a brown-haired girl with a confident smile on her face. The peacekeepers escort her from the way back to the very front. She takes the stone steps easily, tucking her hair behind her ear so that she can see where she’s stepping.

Her name comes across your lips quickly, “Annie Cresta.”

She’s been with the boarding school since she was thirteen, which is five whole years of experience. Five whole years of training, of watching her start out small and hardly able to defend herself, to career-worthy. She’s still not very strong, but she’s resourceful, and smart.

She stops in front of the girl’s bowl, standing up tall. She let’s Elysia ask for her name, which she repeats for everyone in District Four and in the Capitol. You can’t help the grin that comes across your face. This is the year of change.

“And now for the boys.” Elysia says, moving over to the bowl on the right. She carefully pulls out this paper too, not as hesitant as before. She when stops in front of the microphone again, the tape comes off easier. She reads over it, and then speaks, “District Four’s boy tribute is Paslee Milillio.”

There’s no gap this time. You can see a hand shoot up in the seventeen section faster than the words leave his mouth, “I volunteer as tribute!”

You breathe out a laugh, covering your mouth. This one is an easy guess, Marsh Milillio never stops talking about how his younger brother, Paslee, is going to be the next victor prodigy. Paslee’s thirteen this year, he’s been with you guys for a year. And he does show promise, so Marsh isn’t lying.

Marsh gets brought up to the stage, stops in front of his bowl and says his name clear into the microphone. Two volunteers, two very good tributes. This year, the golden beam of light is on District Four.

Elysia wraps it up, wishes for a Happy Hunger Games again, and then backs up to allow Annie and Marsh to shake hands. They do, and you can see that Annie has this smirk on her face, something mischievous. You can only imagine how Marsh is looking at the moment, especially since they’re friends.

Once they’re done, they have to face the district again as the anthem plays for the final time. When the anthem is over, they’re brought inside of the building to say goodbye to their families. You’re supposed to take a minute or two saying your own goodbyes, or head straight to the train to make sure that you leave on time.

You stand, a bright smile on your face, “Holy shit.”

“Don’t fuck this up.” Anchor says, he’s got a grin going, “Please.”

“Holy shit!” you repeat, laughing, “Annie and Marsh? Talk about striking gold!”

It’s going to be an easy year. They understand the rules, they know how to color inside of the lines. You’re not going to have to baby them at all. Not even Marsh, even though he’s seventeen. You’ll be able to focus on more important things.

You give Anchor a hug, and then Mags too. You tell Anchor that he should probably visit the families, and then hold a celebration at the boarding school the night of the interviews. You wave goodbye to your family, who are hanging out on the outskirts of the reaping pen, and then go to meet the car that’s waiting for you.

Finnick is already inside, looking out of the window. The car takes off towards the train as soon as the door is shut. On the way to the train, you work on how you’re going to uphold the deal you made with yourself when it comes to Finnick. You’re not going to let him wreck it. He’s going to help, or he’s going to regret it.

You and Finnick head right inside. As Finnick does every year, he heads straight towards his room. He only makes it one step before you’ve got an iron lock on his wrist, keeping him from going any further.

He turns, confused, eyes trained on your expressionless face.

They say that time heals all wounds. That the longer you put the problem off, you’ll eventually forget about it, and it’ll magically evaporate and disappear like it never existed in the first place. But they’re wrong. Time has let you grow bitter and angry and tired and cold.

The last time you talked to Finnick was years ago, when he told you for the final time that he wouldn’t be participating anymore. To leave him alone and let him do his own thing inside of the Capitol. The mentoring responsibility is now yours, consider him a ghost.

He owes you.

“Work with me this year.” The words aren’t harsh, and they even leave a little room for discussion. A part of you wants to add the word ‘please’ to the end, but you won’t be begging.

“What?” His face twists, and you can see the annoyance before it’s even appeared, “I thought we went over this already. The answer is no.”

You’re not begging. You’re also not backing down. You’re holding him to his promise this year. And if that means getting aggressive and mean, he’s about to meet a new side of you.

You face drops, hand tightening around his wrist. You lift, and pull him closer to you. Finnick might have height, but you have strength through persistence, “Let me rephrase; you’re working with me this year. It’s not a question.”

“You say that now, but you can’t make me do anything.” He twists his wrist, trying to get it free, “Let go.”

You inhale through your nose, keeping your voice quiet and level so that the microphones outside won’t pick you up, “You will help me this year, or you will wish you died in that fucking arena. I’ll make an example out of you, Finnick. You think it’s bad now, wait until I make you the punchline of the fucking joke.”

You yank him closer, he stutters to catch himself so that he doesn’t smack into you, “Your free trial is over. I hope you enjoyed it while it lasted.” He’s glaring, pissed. You let go, pushing him back in the process, “You can hide and wallow in your room now, but when we get to the Capitol, shit changes. Whether you like it or not.

“You’re under me. And you’re working for me, on my terms this year. Don’t like it? Cry me a fucking river.”

You hear the car doors outside of the train, slam shut. The tributes are here, you don’t need to be here waiting when they come inside.

“Clocks ticking, Finnick. You’ve got less than twelve hours to do what you want before your free time is mine.”

“You’re so fucking cocky. Last time I checked, I’m my own person. You can’t tell me what to do.” Finnick shakes his head, face scrunched, a slight shade of red, “Maybe this shit would have flown with Anchor, but I’m not your fucking boyfriend.”

“No, you’re not. And I’m ashamed you ever had that title in the first place. At least Anchor is fucking reliable.” You spit, and you physically see his face fall. Whatever he wanted to say next doesn’t appear on his lips, “I’ve grown up, Finnick. I’ve shouldered all of your bullshit for the past couple of years, and you’re telling me you can’t pull it together just once? It’s garbage.

“I’ve given you your space. Now it’s time to own up or get off of the fucking program. I’m not dealing with this for the next fifty years. I’d rather die before then.” You stop walking, “Once again, you’re helping me this year, or you’re going to regret it. You can think of it as an empty threat, but I’ve had years to get creative.”

He doesn’t say anything back, just leaves the train car. You let him get a headstart, not wanting to have to walk side by side with him to your rooms. By the time you start walking too, the tributes are just ending their time on the station. You leave before they see you, and take your time taking deep breaths to calm yourself down.

You don’t get angry often. It’s hard to be when you’re normally surrounded by people who take the circumstances you live in, seriously. Anchor helps and keeps you company, your family friends keep you grounded, your siblings are a reminder as to why you won in the first place. All of them are working for the better, the only one ruining the current is Finnick. Go fucking figure.

In your room, you lay down on the bed and close your eyes. Dinner will be ready in a couple of hours, and before midnight you should be inside of the Capitol. Tomorrow is the Tribute Parade, the starting point and the decider of how the rest of the trip will go. All you can do right now is hope.

You end up dozing off, only being woken when Elysia comes to the door to bring you to the table before the tributes. You get up, fixing your hair on the way to the dining room. You’re the only one at the table when you get there, and you don’t wait for everyone to show up. You’re no psychic, but you’re pretty sure that Finnick won’t be eating with you guys this evening.

Annie and Marsh take the only real seats that are offered to them. Annie to your right, Marsh to hers. The only chair that’s empty is the one across from you, where Finnick would normally sit. And of course, to your left is Elysia, always sitting at the head since she’s the escort.

Like how Elysia warned you during your train ride to the Capitol for the first time, she tells Annie and Marsh to ration out their hunger. The food will keep coming, and the portion sized will only get bigger as time goes on. You go ahead and tell them--like you tell the tributes every year--that the food is rich too, so they probably shouldn’t eat large portions anyway.

“Finnick didn’t look very happy.” Elysia says, she’s obviously talking to you.

“We spoke for a couple of minutes.” you dip your spoon into the bowl of soup, “If I were him, I’d be pretty pissed off too, but it’s just the way the cookie crumbles.”

Elysia nods, “Any big changes this year?”

You look at her, “I’m going to have an extra pair of hands, I don’t think that I’ll be running around this year.”

Elysia’s smart, she gets what you’re saying almost immediately. You watch the small smile spread over her face, but she doesn’t say anything more about the topic itself, “I suppose some attendants can run him some food.”

You finish up dinner, and then have a little bit of lava cave for dessert. Annie and Marsh are full, but not to the point where they’re going to be sick. So, you all pack it up and bring it to the next train car to watch the reaping recap. You let Annie and Marsh take the seats they want on the couch, but you stand behind it with Elysia.

You’ve grown to realize that sitting down during important events like this, makes you more nervous. It’s more or less the reason why you hate sitting during the reaping.

You watch and observe, listening to what Annie and Marsh have to say about their competitors. They don’t seem all that worried, honestly. They guess strengths and weaknesses, forming a plan of their own. A part of you wonders if they had the reaping planned out, if they made a deal to volunteer together. Like you said, they’re friends. It makes the most sense.

The obvious kids to keep an eye on, as per usual, is Districts One and Two. As the years go on, the more the tributes look vicious. Last year was a fucking nightmare when it came to watching them killing the other tributes around them. It’s no surprise they won, considering they were a fucking tornado in a playground.

“We’d like to be mentored together.” Annie says, looking over her shoulder at you.

Elysia left after the first time they played the recap, she saw all that she needed to. You vaguely remember her mentioning something about checking up on Finnick to make sure he’s eaten. It’s whatever, if he wants to start off on the wrong foot, it’s him that’s going to be regretting it, not you.

“Sounds good to me. Got a plan going on yet?” you cross your arms, eyes landing right back onto the screen in front of them.

“Marsh and I are allies, we think that’s going to work out the best.” she says, “Right?”

Marsh nods in agreement.

“This is your time to shine, not mine.” you raise your eyebrows, “We should arrive in the Capitol in the next few hours. We’ll start getting down to business tomorrow morning. Sounds good?”

“Yeah.” Marsh says.

“You should probably shower if you haven’t already, and get to bed. You’ll need all the sleep you can get, tomorrow’s going to be exhausting. You can find your rooms?” you get ready to go.

“Yes, thank you.” Annie says.

“Goodnight.” you start your way to the door, nearly leaving when Annie calls your name, “Hmm?”

She’s got a sheepish smile on her face, “Thank you for training us.”

“You’re going to be excellent inside of the arena, you two.”

Back in your room, you lay out the clothes you’ll wear when you get to the Capitol. You take a shower, starting off standing and soaking in the warm water. Which you eventually turn hotter, and sit on the floor while it rains on you. For a while, you stare at the granite tile, but end up placing your head on your knees.

You can’t let these kids down. You’ve worked with them for four and five years, you’ve grown to know them. You watched them grow and become better at their chosen skills. You know their families, and you know that if you lose both of them this year, the whole boarding school is a joke. You’ve been working towards this idea for the past five years. You should’ve had it perfected years ago, yet here you are, still going through the trial and error process.

“Please, let one of them win this year.” you murmur, squeezing your eyes shut, “Just one of them, either of them. One of them has to come home. One beacon of hope to keep me going, please.”

You sit there for a while longer, until your fingers begin to prune. You dry your hair and gently tie it out of your face. After you’ve gotten dressed and brushed your teeth, you sit in the corner of the room, staring out of the window, watching as the sky darkens further. And then you see the lights of the city.

You gather your things out of the room, folding the outfit you wore, and then tucking it into a canvas bag. You make sure that the ring is on your finger before you leave the room behind. You’re the first to make it to the train car, arms crossed and still staring out of the window as you wait for the others.

Finnick shows up next, standing on the far side of the room, quiet as ever. Elysia brings Annie and Marsh around, just in time for the train to stop. The cheering of the Capitol citizens starts immediately, loud clapping and whistling and shouting their names.

Since there’s cameras, Annie and Marsh leave the train with Elysia first. You and Finnick follow, getting your own car. And even though the tributes left before you did, your car makes it to the Tribute Center first. Knowing that Elysia will make sure that they’re signed in properly, you and Finnick head straight to the apartment.

The elevator is quiet, tense, “Marsh is seventeen years old. He’s been in the boarding school since he was thirteen, just like Annie. They’ve decided to be allies, they know each other well. He’s good at fighting, I’ve seen him against the others, he’ll be able to measure up to the others in the gymnasium.”

You run your finger along the silver handle inside of the elevator, briefly wondering if people actually use it or not, “Annie is eighteen. She’s smart, quick on her feet. She’s reliable when it comes to recalling survival skills. She looks like she doesn’t have a lot when it comes to fighting, but that’s only the surface. Annie will never choose violence as her first choice, but as a last resort, she’s deadly.”

You look to Finnick to see that he’s already got his eyes on you, watching. You can’t tell what he’s thinking. Maybe he’s planning on telling you that he’s not going to follow your plans. He might as well save his breath, because he’s going to listen. He might think he has an option now, but you know how to work around problems.

The elevator reaches the Four floor, “Goodnight, I’ll see you at the table tomorrow.”

“Don’t count on it.” He says, following behind you loosely.

“You should be dressed and ready before noon. I trust you can find your way to the Tribute Parade by yourself.” You pause, and then look at him, “If not, I could walk you there.”

Finnick stops right next to you, angry and leaning over you like he’s trying to intimidate you. He opens his mouth to say something, but you slip out from underneath him. You hop up the last step, practically skipping as you round the corner to go to your room for the next.

You don’t scare easily.

You change into comfier clothes and then go straight to bed. With the blankets pulled to your chin, you’re out in no time. You wake up on your own time, since Elysia doesn’t really have to baby you anymore. After laying out your clothes, you take a shower and make sure to not touch your hair.

You’re the second person out in the dining room, with Elysia already at the table. She’s drinking her coffee quietly, eyes on the tv in the living room. It’s loud enough to hear from where you sit, and it’s just an overview of last year's tribute parade and costumes. The woman talking is definitely not Claudius or Caesar, so you know it’s going to be a good morning.

“Laurel sent word early this morning, said she’d like to see you as soon as possible before the Tribute Parade.” Elysia says, setting her mug on the table, “I’ll get the kids up.”

“Thank you.” you say to her, and then repeat it for the avoxes when they begin to bring out breakfast.

Annie comes out first, looking fairly put together. She gives you a polite smile and sits by you at the table, “Good morning.”

You nod, eyes on the tv, watching as the woman skips over the first two districts. Their outfits tend to be the same thing every year. It’s a comfort for District One to dress their tributes in expensive fabric and make them look as Capitol-ish as possible. As for District Two, it’s always a gladiator thing, it’s just a different variation this year.

And even with how boring it is, they still manage to come out as the favorite every single year. For a city that loves the adventure and the unpredictability of the Hunger Games, they’re pretty boring when it comes to allowing the careers to do the same thing every year. At least District Four has the brains to try something new, even if it doesn’t work all the time.

Elysia comes back out, taking a seat at the table, “Marsh will join us in a moment.”

If Laurel wants to talk to you, it’s probably about the costumes. She knows what she wants, but sometimes seeks out advice if she’s caught between two ideas. No matter what happens, Pleurisy will have to match her, and she won’t object to changes. Laurel is older than Pleurisy, which sort-of got her a certain amount of respect from Pleurisy.

It makes Laurel’s job a whole lot easier, you think. They have to match costumes at the Tribute Parade, and it’s better if you coordinate the formal outfits for the night of the interviews. Especially if the tributes are going to be working together inside of the arena. Laurel’s a sure person, if she wants it, she’s going to get it. She’s also a visionary, likes to see her works come to life.

Right after breakfast, you should get down there quickly so she isn’t waiting for long. If you’re making a costume decision, then the prep teams are going to need to be able to shift to fit the new needs. As soon as Marsh is out here, you’ll say what you need to and then go. You can always eat later if you’re hungry.

Marsh comes out of the hallway, barely awake but he looks as put together as Annie does. You wipe your mouth with the cloth napkin, finish up your orange juice, and neatly stack up your plates for the avoxes to take.

“Today is the Tribute Parade.” you start, catching their attention, “After breakfast, Elysia will take you down to the Remake Center. The prep teams will take care of you, no matter what happens, don’t resist or complain. Let them do their jobs, they have rules to follow.” you stand up from the table, “I’ll see you again before you get on the chariots.”

You’re about to tell them that if they have any questions, they should ask Elysia. But Finnick comes down the steps, heading straight for the dining table. It’s perfect timing on his part, you get ready to leave, “If you have any questions, Finnick will have the answers. I’ll see you later this afternoon.”

His eyes meet yours, already glaring. He doesn’t turn around and go back to his room like you halfway expected, but sits at the table and waits to be served. You think that he won’t let the tributes down, so you go ahead and leave. If Finnick doesn’t step up, Elysia will gladly do it.

Laurel and Pleurisy are standing in the hallway with the prep teams when you get there. They open up to make a space for you to stand, and you patiently wait as Laurel finishes telling Annie’s prep team what they’ll be doing with Annie. The basic stuff, some extra points if they have the time to later on. You know what the team will make room for the extra stuff either way.

Pleurisy is doing the same thing with Marsh’s team, but it’s not as heinous. They’ll find a way to draw out Marsh’s grooming so that Annie and him finish around the same time. Just so Marsh doesn’t sit around and wait for the Tribute Parade to come around.

Once they’re done, the magical opinion question is brought to the table. Laurel shows you the two options this year, and immediately you can see why she was caught between them. The first option is based off the coral reef, with bright colors and shelves that stick out in places that aren’t awkward. You know that this would be an eye-catcher, and there’s not a spot of blue to be found.

The second option is something less interesting; ropes. Brown nets that’ll be strategically placed around their bodies to make them seem dressed, but really they’ll practically be naked. The only reason this could ever appear to the Capitol citizens is because of a nearly revealed tribute. Which they’ve seen hundreds of times by now.

“Definitely the coral reef. The colors are bright and might even drown out everyone else a bit.” they back away from you, looking pleased, “It’s bold, though.”

“They’ll look amazing by the end of it. We’ve got big plans for them.” Laurel then turns to the prep teams, “Get ready to receive the tributes.” the teams scatter, leaving just you three in the hallway, “Elysia tells me you’ve got Finnick working this year.”

“Not just yet.” you admit, gently shaking your head, “He’s not very happy, I’m going to start slow but by the time the games roll around, he’ll be under my thumb. I can handle the week in the Capitol, but I start to spread myself thin when the tributes get in the arena.”

“Will he be at the parade?” Pleurisy asks.

“Should be. If not, it’s not that big of a deal.”

You spend the rest of the morning with the stylists, following them around, watching as they prepare the costumes. As it nears noon, you get word that the tributes are just about done, which means you three have to scatter. You bid them goodbye, and head back to the apartment to have lunch before meeting the tributes below the Remake Center.

The whole place feels empty, with no sign of Elysia anywhere in the common rooms, and lord knows where Finnick is. You turn the tv on again to hear what Caesar and Claudius have to say about last year’s costumes, and the predictions for this year. You sit at the table, and eat quietly, trying not to hate the Capitol anymore than you already do.

Even after you’re done eating, you sit at the table for a while. Which seems to pay off in the end, as the mystery of where Finnick’s been the entire time, is solved. Still leaves the question on where Elysia is. But if you were to take a guess now, when the Tribute Parade is less than thirty minutes off, she’s probably with the stylists so that she’s on time to the parade.

You lean your head against your hand and watch as Finnick takes his time making his way up the stairs. He’s obviously trying to avoid talking to you, because if he doesn’t look in your direction, you’re probably not going to bother him. At least, that’s what he thinks. Unfortunately, you know how to play mind games and have a fair amount of patience.

The constant silence seems to make him curious enough to look anyway. His eyes lock with yours, he stops moving up the steps. As the staring contest begins, you can see the guilt in his eyes. But as quick as it appeared, it’s suddenly gone. It doesn’t matter, because you’ve seen everything that you needed to already.

You give him a smile, “There’s fifteen minutes before the parade. Plenty of time to get cleaned up, and go, so you might as well.”

“You were waiting here for me?” he asks, face twisting.

“Don’t flatter yourself, I just ate lunch.” you roll your eyes, looking back at the tv.

He leaves, you watch as the stands fill with bright colors and animated Capitol people. To think that it feels like yesterday you were the one rolling through the street, dressed as a marble statue straight out of Atlantis. You can still remember the way your stomach twisted right as the chariots began to move.

As the years have come and gone, you’ve become more used to the cameras. Whether you like it or not, the Capitol will always be with you. They might not follow you around in District Four anymore, but they sure do keep tabs on you when the games roll around. What is (Y/n) doing this year? You’re sure they noticed your happy expressions during the reapings when Annie and Marsh volunteered. You wonder if they were suspicious that you weren’t really surprised.

You can’t say you’ll be as indifferent when the games roll around. It’s going to be harder to hold yourself together, as it is every year. And if Marsh or Annie win? It’s going to be a celebration, there’s not a single doubt about it. And depending on what happens in the arena exactly, especially with the other careers, you’ll be rubbing it in.

Finnick comes out when it hits ten minutes. He doesn’t look all that different, just less disheveled than he had started as. You and him take the elevator down below the Remake Center, and you’re able to see that there’s a handful of tributes here already, waiting by their chariots.

Annie and Marsh are dressed brilliantly. As always, Laurel knows what she’s doing, and she’s managed to make it look like they could easily blend into the reefs themselves, if they wanted to. Annie’s hair is done up in braids, with bright colors weaved in and out. As a headpiece, she’s got an orange reef hair comb tucked in neatly.

The colors on their bodies are strategically placed to make them blend into each other. Annie’s got a dress that bells out at the bottom, with unique, hand-painted designs that must have taken hours. Even Marsh has brightly colored makeup around his eyes, smeared with colored glitter mixed in.

“Huh.” Finnick lets out, “You picked this?”

“This is not what was sketched out.” you look at him, raising your eyebrows, “But it’s pretty cool, huh?”

You elbow him slightly, and then head over to Annie and Marsh, “You guys look amazing!”

Annie turns, giving you a red-faced smile. Marsh on the other hand, rolls his eyes and picks at the coral band on his arm. Since they can’t do special effects on the tributes, as the chemicals might irritate his skin, the stylists have to get creative with how they get props to stick onto the tributes. It typically turns out to be tight bands like the ones Marsh is wearing. It doesn’t cut off circulation, but it isn’t exactly comfortable either.

With this, Pleurisy slaps Marsh’s hand to get him to stop fiddling with the band. If he messes it up now, it’ll have to come off completely. There’s absolutely no time to go back and fix anything that he might fuck up. Marsh seems to catch the clue though, because he laces his fingers together and tries not to touch anything else.

The opening music starts, notifying you that it’s time to get the tributes onto their chariots. Laurel and Pleurisy shift anything that needs to be moved, and then they’re making Marsh and Annie get onto the chariot. You watch as they shift around, finding the way they’ll be standing for the parade.

“Any tips?” Annie asks hopefully.

“Follow your gut.” you say, “If you feel like smiling or waving, do it. This is your time to set what you’ll be like for the rest of the Capitol trip. As soon as you’re in the arena, it can go away.”

They don’t ask any questions, and even if they had any, their time is up. The doors behind them have finished opening, District One’s chariot is starting to move. You and the others back off, wishing the tributes good luck. You’re all subjected to watching the chariots on the tv.

You cross your arms, yawning slightly. You’re ready for the day to be over, at least the next three days or so is going to be slow. All you really have to do is get up and make yourself presentable until they’re shipped to the Training Center. The only real working day is the one the day before the interviews. And that’s because you’re going to be figuring out how you can help them be ready for the interview.

Annie and Marsh seem to be in their element for the most part. Annie is obviously shy, Marsh doesn’t mind it at all. She waves and smiles and does just as much as Marsh does. They stop in the City Circle, the anthem plays, President Snow gives his speech, the chariots go around the circle one last time, and then come back.

“Not bad.” you say to yourself, “Not bad at all.”

You leave Finnick standing there, giving the tributes a wide grin. The prep teams are already singing praises, so there’s not much to say. Muchless room to say it. Elysia thinks that they’ve had an influence on the Capitol already, which is a relief. As long as they’re drawing in some attention, you’re good.

Back inside of the Four floor, your tributes head off to take their showers. Finnick meanders around the rooms, you settle onto the couch in the living room, watching the chariot rides again. As always, Claudius and Caesar have been captivated by District One and Two’s amazing stylists. They barely make a comment about District Four.

You end up with your head in your hands. You know that just because the moderators didn’t say anything, doesn’t mean that other people didn’t take a closer look. But their biased opinion tends to have an effect on people after a while. Continue to make dim comments about districts, and you’ll end up like District Twelve.

No one wants to be District Twelve.

Dinner with everyone--with the exception of the prep teams--is enough to keep you awake. You go ahead and indulge yourself in red wine, trying to seem like you’re enjoying yourself. As soon as the alcohol sets in, making your head spin a little, you go ahead and give it up. You’re not really a drinker, anyway.

As soon as the cake is served, you’re sure that dinner is pretty much over. You go and watch the replay of the parade again, Elysia goes ahead and tells you guys what the people she’d talk to said. It’s all very good things, and you begin to suspect that she’s just being nice for the tributes.

“Don’t give them false hope.” you say, cutting her off completely, “Claudius and Caesar did nothing for us. Annie and Marsh have to do good on their training scores, and even better during the interviews if they want to make a lasting impression.” you look at the tributes, “The pressure of performing well has only just begun.

“You guys should get to bed, we’ll see you at breakfast for instructions. Try to get a good night of sleep.”

Annie thanks Laurel on her way out, Marsh barely does the same. You absently watch the tv while you wait for them to be gone completely. Finnick’s already gathering his things, “I’ve got to go.”

“Be there at breakfast, I’ll fill you in the best I can.” you tell him.

“Sure.”

He leaves too, and you’re left there with Elysia, Laurel and Pleurisy.

“You know how to clear a room.” Laurel says, you crack a smile.

“Well you wanted to talk.” you look at them, “So let’s get to talking.”

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songtoyou · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 2: First Meeting

Tolerate It

Paring: Modern!Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Story Rating: R (No minors should read this fic).

Word Count: 2,778

Warnings: Mentions of sexual assault. Sexual activity between two consenting adults.

Description: Tommy Shelby is the owner and CEO of Shelby Company Limited. Starting out as a Bookmaker, Tommy had big ideas to expand his riches. In the past ten years, the company has grown rapidly to expand its business ventures from bars to producing alcohol, manufacturing motor vehicle parts, and exporting. One of the richest men in Great Britain, Tommy Shelby, has it all. Unfortunately, the death of his wife, Grace, left the multi-millionaire mogul alone and depressed. He needed someone to fulfill his needs and deepest darkest desires.

A/N: Again, the response to this fic has been wonderful. We learn more about Rose and find out why Lizzie left. Rose meets Tommy for the first time and begins the process of solidifying their arrangement.

Note: Italics represent the past or past conversations.

Feedback is wonderful. It is nice knowing if people actually like this fic.

I do not permit my work to be posted on any other site without my permission.

Saturday rolled faster than a blink of an eye. Rose was not nervous about tonight's meeting with her new client. A part of her was looking forward to it. Taking the time to look up Tommy Shelby on the Internet, Rose found out more about the man she would be possibly spending most of her time around. His backstory was interesting. The man started from nothing. It was no wonder Tommy was a massive celebrity within the business community. Inspiring entrepreneurs looked up to him and how he accumulated his wealth.

Rose was aware that Tommy's business practices were not always ethical, just like she knew that Alfie, Luca, and her other clients all dealt in questionable behavior to stay ahead of the game. It was like these guys did not know that the 1920s were long gone, and their little gangs should have considered obsolete in these present times. But it was not her job to question them as part of her did not care. All Rose wanted was to get paid and have a little pleasure herself once in a while. She hoped Tommy was good in bed as Lizzie mentioned he was. She had no reason not to believe her former coworker.

It was a terrible incident at the club that made Lizzie leave for good. All because of Oswald Mosley and his sick and deviant behavior. Oswald was a Member of Parliament for South Staffordshire and the youngest member of the Conservative party. His influence within the party continued to gain strength as the young politician expressed his outlandish views that tended to lean towards fascism. Many other MPs have tried to rebuke Mosley's power but to no avail. His supporters only rallied behind him more. He was garnering more attention and enthusiasm to start his very own nationalist party within Great Britain. This idea worried many other MPs, even within the Conservative Party.

As Mosley's profile continued to rise, he found himself needing a form of release. It did not take long for him to receive an invitation to join Excelsior. Politicians were another form of clientele for the club. However, word soon spread about Mosley's odd behavior with the girls. The man had a weird fetish for rape and sexual assault fantasies. Not many girls wanted to partake in that act. Rose quickly passed on having Mosley as one of her clients since non-consensual/dubious consent was not something she gravitated towards when it came to pleasure.

Some of the girls confided in Rose they felt after being with Mosley. Many were scared to inform Izabella or Tatiana in fear of getting fired. Unfortunately, it took the incident with Lizzie that left her brutally scarred, both physically and psychologically, to have Mosley permanently banned from Excelsior. What made it worse was that no one could do anything to Mosley outside the club, no police reports, no arrests, nothing. He was too powerful.

The only thing Lizzie said to Rose was that Mosley took it too far and that she was rethinking her time at the club. When Lizzie did not show up for three days, Rose knew that she left the life of escorting for good.

Giving herself one last look in the mirror, Rose opted for the wine-colored long drape dress, with a silver belt to extenuate her hips, and topped it off with silver ankle strap heels. Satisfied with how she looked, Rose grabbed her clutch (silver as well) and walked towards the front door.

"Mom, you are coming home later, right?" asked Louis as he sat in the living room watching television.

"Uh…probably won't be home until late. I'm simply hanging out with the girls. Don't wait up, sweetie," said Rose kissing her son on the top of his head.

"Aren't you a little too dressed up for a girl's night out?"

"Louis, darling, here is some advice about women. We like to look nice now and then. It makes us feel good. So, don't ever question why your mummy is all dolled up, okay. The girls and I are celebrating Ellie's promotion at the firm. That is all. Now, do not stay up too late. See you later, love."

"Bye, mum."

Rose hated lying to her son, but there was no way she would ever reveal the truth to him about how they could afford their lifestyle.

As a teen mom, Rose worked tirelessly from different part-time jobs to get food on the table. She was tired of struggling to make ends meet. Rose wanted more for her son. By Rose's mid-twenties, she bit the bullet and became an exotic dancer. The nerves and humiliation wore off quickly when Rose counted her tips. It was the most she had ever made and all in one night. She had no intentions of ever becoming a high-end call girl. But again, the money proved to be too good to pass up. It also helped the Duchess and Princess give their girls some sense of agency and control over what they do and partake in certain activities. Rose's clients did not seem to understand or realize that she held all of the power. She was not a puppet, nor was she naïve.

Tommy continued to check his watch every fifteen minutes. Rose was not late by any means; it was merely a habit. It gave him something to do since he was not allowed to smoke at The Savoy. He instructed Rose to meet at the hotel's bar and restaurant at precisely 9:00 p.m.

He was not nervous as Tommy Shelby did not get nervous. He wanted to get the night started. The man needed some release.

"Mr. Shelby," spoke the hostess. "I have a Miss Turner here to see you."

"Yes, thank you. Send Miss Turner over, please," ordered Tommy and downed his glass of Irish whiskey in one gulp.

For a second, Tommy thought he forgot how to breathe when he saw Rose walk towards him. He would not deny that she was breathtakingly beautiful.

"Mr. Shelby," she greeted him with a quick kiss on his cheek. Thankfully, no lipstick residue on his face. Men hated when that happened, Rose learned.

"Miss Turner. It is a pleasure to meet you in person finally," said Tommy as he helped Rose into her seat. He could be a gentleman when he wanted to be one. His Aunt Polly raised him right.

After giving her drink order to the waiter and a refill for Tommy, the two were left alone for the time being. Unsure of where the conversation should start, Rose chose to cut to the chase.

"How do you want tonight to go, exactly? Are we here to talk about, I don't know what you call it, our agreement, our arrangement? Or should we…"

"I say we talk about what we like and don't like," Tommy cut Rose off.

When the waiter brought their drinks, Rose took a sip of her white wine, while Tommy sipped his whiskey.

"My file should have included my interests. What I will and won't do with a man," Rose reminded him.

"Indeed, it did, but a file can only tell me so much. I would rather hear it from you, Miss Turner. So, tell me, what gets you off?" asked Tommy in a low voice as he leaned over the table. Thankfully, the two were at a back corner table with no other patrons around.

Taking another sip of her wine, Rose leaned in as well. "I like being dominated. From your file, you like being the dominant one. I like being tied up, gagged, and made to cum over and over again until I can't take it anymore. Orgasm denial, I like that as well—humiliation or degradation, whatever you want to call it. I don't care for that at all. It has never turned me on."

"What about pain? What is your pain threshold?" Tommy questioned.

"Pretty high."

"So, nipple clamps, whips, floggers…none of that bothers you?"

Rose shook her head 'no' and asked Tommy what kinds of punishment he prefers.

"Spankings with my bare hands and edging. Punishments only occur if I deem you being bratty or don't follow my rules."

Rose nodded, indicating she understood. "Pretty standard forms of punishment for a dominant."

The waiter stopped by again, asking if they wanted another drink or order some food. "I'm okay, thank you," said Rose.

"I liked to order champagne for our room, please," Tommy requested and told the waiter his room number. Rose was not surprised that he was in one of the hotel's suites. On different occasions, she had been to The Savoy Hotel, mostly with her other clients for leisurely visits now and then when they called for her services.

Taking another sip of her drink, Rose started to feel unsure to ask Tommy next. "Is there anything particular that you like or don't like?"

Gulping down his whiskey once again, Tommy stood up from his seat and helped you out of yours.

"Let's head up, and I can show you what I like. You can take your drink with you," mentioned Tommy buttoning up his suit jacket.

Rose gulped down her wine and grabbed her purse. "No need. I'm ready," she said and looped her arm around his. Tommy kept his strides short throughout the walk to the elevator. Rose noticed how the other hotel patrons all seemed to fawn over the man she was with while the employees moved out of his way. Rose found it amusing when in the elevator the people who were already in quickly left, leaving them alone on the ride up to his suit.

"People go out of their way to accommodate you, don't they, Mr. Shelby. Must be nice to have all that power over others," Rose stated admiringly.

Tommy smirked and looked at Rose, "When you come from nothing, you work extra hard to achieve everything, even peoples' fear of you. What about you? Must you find it exhilarating to have powerful men at your fingertips? I would not be shocked that once your clients and I told Tatiana that I have an idea of who they are, well, they are not going to be happy about losing you to me. I have a lot of enemies, Miss Turner, but rest assure that while you are in my company, you will be safe and protected."

The elevator dinged indicated they made it to their destination. Leading the way once again, Tommy steered them down the hall and stopped at the door of his suite. Once he got Rose inside, he took off his suit jacket and opened the doors to the balcony where he could finally get his nicotine fix. He offered one to Rose, but she declined. Tommy watched as Rose looked around the suite. He took this time to look at the woman before him; she would not be deemed the model-type with her 5'7 stature, nor was she skin and bones. Dark brown hair ran past her shoulders, and her skin had a lovely complexion. Tommy took one last drag of his cigarette and stubbed it out on the balcony.

He slowly walked up behind Rose and wrapped his strong arms around, inhaling her scent; he began to grind himself against her backside. Rose promptly reciprocated and matched his rhythm. Trailing kisses down Rose's neck, Tommy moved his hands to squeeze her breasts. He quickly turned her around and began kissing her on the mouth. His dominant side was finally allowed to be released.

When Rose pulled away, it took Tommy by surprise. When he began to pull Rose back towards him, she put her hands on his chest. "I need to freshen up first, is that okay?"

Letting out a sigh, Tommy motioned her towards the bathroom. "I won't be long; I promise," assured Rose. Once in the bathroom, she began to take off her heels and dress. She hung her dress on the door hook, placed her heels to the side, and then looked herself over in the mirror. Smoothing out her hair, Rose dug in her clutch to quickly check her phone. No messages from her son. Now, Rose would be able to focus on the task at hand entirely.

Rose exited the bathroom to see Tommy waiting for her on the couch, no longer wearing his tie and vest, shirt partly unbuttoned. She walked towards him, where he indicated he wanted Rose on her knees. Spreading his legs, Rose kneeled and began unzipping his pants, reaching for his hardened member and gave it a few strokes. She looked up to see Tommy stretch and lay his head back against the couch, indicated he was comfortable and was ready for Rose to begin. Rose licked her lips and opened her mouth to take him in as much as far as possible. Rose did not stop until she felt him at the back of her throat.

Rose pulled away for a second to lick off the precum of Tommy's dick before proceeding to lick the entire length. She went back to sucking once Tommy put his hand in her hair. He bobbed her head back and forth at a fast pace. Tommy felt like he was about to explode his load in Rose's mouth he backed off. Rose took the time to catch her breath. She watched as Tommy took off his shirt and got up from the couch.

"Up," he ordered, and Rose followed obediently.

She never took her eyes off Tommy while he walked to the bedroom.

"Take this off," Tommy ordered, indicating he wanted her bra off.

Once again, Rose followed his orders. She tossed the bra to the side, and Tommy walked closer to her. He reached for her breast and began to squeeze them, tugging on her nipples. When he started to pull her nipples extra hard, Rose let out a little squeak.

"Too hard?" Tommy asked and released his tight grip.

"No. I mean, it hurts, but it feels good too," Rose answered truthfully.

Tommy once again started pulling on her nipples as hard as he could without hurting Rose too much. He pressed his lips against hers. Rose quickly reciprocated the action and ran her hands through his hair. Backing Rose towards the bed, he lightly pushed her, where she softly plopped down. Tugging her underwear down, Tommy tossed them to the side and ran a finger up-and-down her folds.

"Wet, as I expected. Let me see how many fingers you can take, shall we," amused Tommy and slipped, not one, but two fingers inside Rose. He soon began pumping his fingers in and out.

He kept going while Rose emitted more moans from her mouth. She was panting and getting closer to needing release. But she knew a sweet release would not come easy. No, Tommy was going to have Rose work for it. She was about the beg to cum when Tommy pulled his fingers out of her cunt.

Tracing his thumb against her clit, Rose let out a squeal at the new feeling. Tommy smirked. That feeling of control, control over this woman's body, it's what made Tommy feel at ease. It allowed for his head to feel clear. Tommy did not have to worry about business deals or rival gangs; instead, his focus was all on the woman before him writhing in pleasure.

Inserting his fingers back in her cunt, Tommy added a third finger this time. Rose sat up on her elbows to watch Tommy. She saw the looked of deep concentration on his face. When he reached that spot, Rose jerked up, and Tommy used his free hand to push her back down on the bed.

"I'm going to cum. I need to cum," Rose panted out, but Tommy kept going.

"Not yet," he merely said. "You do not cum until I say you can, understood." It was an order, not a question.

"Yes…yes sir," Rose managed to say. She did not know how long she would last.

"Cum!" Tommy commanded and Rose more than happily followed it.

Pure bliss is all Rose felt until Tommy pried her mouth open with the fingers that were in her.

"Lick them clean for me, love. Taste yourself."

When she licked his fingers clean, Tommy took off his pants and underwear. He crawled on top of Rose and began kissing her stomach, each breast, her neck, and finally lips.

"You're not tired out yet, are you love?" he asked her.

When Rose shook her head no, Tommy leaned in to whisper in her ear, "Good. It is going to be a long night for you."

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fic

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