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sourbat · 4 years

Text

And Then-

Words: 2800

Rating: T

Pairing: Toki Wartooth/Magnus Hammersmith

Summary: “Hammertooth, as told by the Dethklok Minute.”

There was nothing that could be done to completely vanquish the paranoia, even with the presence of half a dozen committed klokateers, so Toki knowingly made a point to always bring a disguise, to try and play it safe and drink one less bottle than normal, take one less hit than he preferred, because the last thing he wanted to do was prove Magnus’ fears correct.

Toki was there the first time it happened. Worse, he was with the whole gang, reclining comfortably in the hot tub, finished giving Skwisgaar a high five, when Nathan flicked the television on, revealing The Dethklok Minute host’s marred face.

“Today I bring you a blast from the past. We’re talking ancient history here, folks! Famed rhythm guitarist, Toki Wartooth, was recently seen chatting it up with none other than ex-Dethklok, and failed solo artist, Magnus Hammersmith. The two were seen causing quite the scene outside of the Griffith observatory, resulting in them being kicked out from the premises. Apparently, Hammersmith couldn’t handle the extra attention. Real shame, Hammersmith, it’s as close to the stars as you’ll ever get!”

They laughed when they saw the images, the brief video clip of Magnus angrily grabbing and tossing someone’s phone off the cliff, and the hilarious tweets shared by fans that all seemed to focus on how desperate and loathsome Magnus was in comparison to him. There was nothing he could say, whine or threaten to calm the rest of the band down. The day only grew progressively worse as he checked his phone, spotting new threads and comments on all the platforms he frequented, but not hearing a single word from Magnus.

He must have sent a dozen messages, and earned no reply until late at night, when news had reached every corner of the internet.

Thankfully, Magnus took it rather well, or as well as anyone with little to no say in the matter could. When they finally got together, Magnus was clearly upset, but he was more ashamed at himself for causing a huge scene and threatening a bunch of regular jack-offs for poking fun of him, mad for setting himself up for this disaster, and regretted that he pulled Toki and Dethklok into yet another one of his messes.

Once it was out, they discussed the next step. The public knew they were together in some form, but how much was still up in the air. Romance was currently out of the equation, or wasn’t suspected. Magnus treated it as a small relief; Toki, on the other hand, viewed it differently. The mean gossips centered on Magnus wouldn’t just go away if people continued to treat him as Toki’s inferior. If they came out not as competitors, but as partners, as equals, as a real couple…

When Toki raised the idea to Magnus, he spun it differently. They should come out now before the world figures it out on their own. Rip off the bandage on their own terms, and get the rumors done and over with.

The world was going to talk about them whether they liked it or not, so… why not try to have fun?

Why hide it and pretend they were only friends?

“Welcome back to the Dethklok Minute! Toki Wartooth and Hammersmith were seen together exiting Club Rhapsody on Sunset Blvd. The two barely made it five steps before Mr. Wartooth was bombarded by fans. It took several klokateers shooting down crazed fans to get their claws off Toki Wartooth. Meanwhile, here’s an image of poor ol’ Hammersmith, left out in the dust. Good thing he’s already used to it, though!”

That time Magnus was pissed. He hadn’t even done anything that night, and was the soberer of the two. Sure, they were both piss-drunk, but Magnus had been reasonable enough to leave his keys behind, to tell Toki they needed to leave once it got too crowded, and tried being civil despite the crowds, their disguises slipping off, and people flashing lights in every direction just to say they were in the same club as Toki Wartooth.

Unless given the orders, the klokateers didn’t bother trying to protect Magnus, or shoo away fans who had nothing better than to accuse him of trying to latch on to fame, being a parasite, or an unsightly thorn in Toki’s side. The burden always fell on Toki. He had to be the one to grab Magnus and reel him in, remind him to count to ten, to hold his tongue, to try and be the better man despite the rumors and open remarks.

It didn’t take long for forums to pose the much-feared question, one Toki hadn’t regarded until Magnus very frustratingly pointed it out:

How far back do they go?

Then Toki understood Magnus’ fears. With discussions digging deeper into their pasts, Toki knew it would only be a matter of time before rumors of his disappearance resurfaced, and people connected whatever dots they wanted to reach their preferred conclusions.

The following months proved too challenging.

He couldn’t blame Magnus for all those close calls. Toki didn’t blame him when Magnus eventually did snap, and lash out. Magus never laid a finger on him, but the yelling…the yelling and the misdirected rage terrified him.

It was Magnus who suggested the break.

Once again, Toki couldn’t bring himself to blame Magnus, even when everyone else at Mordhaus did.

The truth stung. The loneliness ached. The rumors persisted. Toki waited and watched the news, counting the weeks until the much-needed silence finally died down. It never did. Though the conversations decreased, there was never a point in time where comments online didn’t lead to Magnus, tweets or tags that brought up the name, and the terrible rumors surrounding their relationship persisted. It was the suckiest time of Toki’s life as he waited for Magnus’ return, for the world to get over this strange obsession, and for things to return to the way it was before.

Two months later, Magnus returned from the shadows on his own accord, and begged for Toki’s forgiveness and yet another chance at proving he could handle the unwanted attention, so long as it meant keeping Toki’s. Almost immediately after they reunited, the pictures and videos returned, but this time Magnus made a point to ignore it, to do his absolute best to take it all in stride and make the most of their limited time together.

Toki welcomed Magnus with open arms, more relieved than anything that Magnus didn’t give up on the two of them, and was willing to try and make this work.

“While on tour in England, fans caught glimpses of Toki and Mr. Hammersmith just outside of the Tower of London, harassing the local avian residents, and later caught pissing into the River Thames. Well, you know the saying: boys will be boys. In bigger news, Nathan Explosion played the lead role at The Globe’s recent…”

Then, one day, Magnus was no longer the main story. He wasn’t the butt of the joke. He wasn’t the focus of any folly that took place between them. Now Magnus had a title. Now he was just another one of the boys. Maybe not a member of Dethklok, but someone within the circle. A person who demanded some respect.

It took several months, but Magnus was accepted as another regular figure in Toki’s life. Like Dr. Rockso, Magnus was treated less as a person of interest, a living target, and more a colorful object that Toki took alongside him to various places, adding to the curiosity and allure of their already complex relationship. Unlike the clown, though, the well of controversy had long since run dry, and nasty statements about the older man were quickly replaced with random jokes, silly rumors about Skwisgaar being replaced, and then–

Magnus started smiling, really smiling, again.

And then–

“Today I bring you none other than our favorite buddy-duo: Toki Wartooth and Magnus Hammersmith! The two guitarists were seen sneaking out the back of Cruachan’s, carrying a wasted William Murderface before being accosted by some rapid fangirls. Luckily for them, Murderface was there to scare them away. Hey, Murderface, didn’t anyone tell you three is a crowd?”

It was already a big enough deal that Toki convinced Murderface to join in, drink and talk with Magnus, maybe reconcile some past grudges and start afresh. Now people were curious to know why Magnus was so well-liked. In the eyes of the fans, Dethklok was reaching out to Magnus, which meant Magnus couldn’t possibly be that bad of a guy. The focus on Magnus returned, but with a different change in tone. He was Toki’s buddy. A mentor. A reliable father figure.

Magnus read each new role, and grew paranoid for the one that he knew would soon arise from the depths of internet forums.

Another month went by, then another, and after doing their best to avoid the media, to pay extra attention when making exchanges, their reprieve arrived in the form of funny jingles and images depicting the two of them as nothing short of the best of friends. The host of the show played it well, acting as though he never had a hand in spreading lies about them, and treated their nightly excursions, trips and secret dates as just another blurb in the Dethklok Minute. But as nice as two friends hanging out was, it didn’t draw the same number of crowds as before, and after waiting and waiting, the focus on the two of them finally died.

Nobody cared that Toki hung out with Magnus, and were far more invested in Pickles’ massive pub crawl across Europe, the recent paternity trials of Skwisgaar, Nathan’s up-and-down relationship with Abigail, or Murderface’s failed MLM scheme.

And then–

“Welcome to the Dethklok minute! Uh-oh, Toki-oh! After a huge and successful performance in Japan, Toki Wartooth was seen inviting Magnus Hammersmith into the lobby of the famous Ningen Isu Hotel. But what’s this? Take a look at this! Though the picture is of poor quality, fans speculate the two are holding hands in the photo…”

A slip up. After months of touring, bad reception and shitty planning on his part, Toki called Magnus over, and in their haste to reunite, were caught in the act.

And then…

“Breaking news! You will not believe your eyes!”

The very thing Magnus feared happened. Toki expected a strong reaction from Magnus. He expected the walls to crumble and the world to feel like it was ending. However, he could not predict just how negative a response he'd receive from his billions of fans. Knees tucked into his chest, Toki sullenly scrolled through the thousands of tags with awful slurs and insulting remarks, now all aimed at him. Fans demanded to know if he hit his head, if he enjoyed giving head, if he was always playing for both sides, if he spit or swallowed, if he even liked girls, if he was drunk when it happened, if it was consensual, if Toki was sure he didn’t like breasts, if he was ok, or if there was something wrong with his eyes because he could do so much better than Magnus Hammersmith.

Nathan and the others warned him this would happen, but Toki never believed it. The fans loved him. He could do no wrong.

But, once it was out–

“While most remain torn, a growing number of fans have openly voiced their support of the two…”

Once it was out, it was Magnus who snatched the phone out from Toki’s hand, taking and stowing it in some drawer where it couldn’t bother them before doing the same with Toki, and carrying him off into the night in his arms and telling him it wasn’t worth their time.

“…Send your vote to this number to determine the name of this new, controversial celebrity couple!”

Much like those slow, intimate touches that kept Toki distracted long through the night, the horrible things fans said came to pass. Not much longer, Magnus showed Toki how those same fans that had attacked him, that posted videos and memes making fun of their friendship, that spread rumors and doubt, that tested their patience, were all now sending hearts and their best wishes. There were pictures, both hand drawn and professionally done, hashtags and gifs and essays filled with nothing but off-putting support. Toki found familiar faces and names, avatars and posts from those he remembered directing horrible things his way, and now they were acting as though they never stopped believing in the two.

Toki logged off and debated taking a break from social media.

Magnus beckoned him back to comforting sheets.

The initial shock came and went, and before long, all that was left was empty support and praise. Wholesome quotes and pretty rainbow flags that meant nothing to Toki, even less to Magnus, and fan songs and imagery that Toki blocked, only to later openly mocked with the only man who understood better than anyone else how pathetic and empty-brained most people were, and how quickly everyone forgets.

The band had little to say, but offered their indirect support by reminding Toki the jack-offs were more than likely jealous. Toki had everything in the world, Nathan later said. It didn’t matter that he left it at that, abruptly ending the conversation before Toki had a chance to really take it in and appreciate the shreds of a hidden apology underneath it all. Everything in the world. To think it included Magnus made the half-assed apology more heartfelt, and Toki had to stop himself from getting too close to Nathan and thanking him for taking his side, for being there, for listening, caring in his own way.

And, finally…

“… and in other news, the world’s favorite musical couple celebrated Toki Wartooth’s birthday in upstate New York. After celebrating at Mordhaus, Magnus and Toki decided to take advantage of the band’s extended work sabbatical, and take a vacation together… Next week, I give you a very special Dethklok exclusive, starring none other than the famous couple themselves!”

With an outstretched hand, Magnus reached for the remote, turning off the television with a short, but aggressive jab on the power button before snatching his keys and turning to Toki, who remained peacefully reclined on top of the hotel bed.

“Ready?” Magnus asked, fixing one of many heavy rings he had on his person as Toki slipped off the bed, hastily running past him to locate his socks and boots for the long day ahead. Magnus fingered a rather hefty skull ring adorned with gaudy, but bright and pointed gemstones. “So, who’s doing what again?”

“I holds him down,” Toki replied as he worked the laces on his boots. “When I gives the words, I jumps across and holds him down.”

Magnus picked up his sunglasses, donning his disguise before casually making his way out of the bedroom. “Uh-huh. And what’s the word?”

“Hmmm.” Toki chewed his inner lip as he searched for a random enough word. “Cinnamon?”

“Cinnamon?”

“Yeps,” Toki replied, standing up and following Magnus. He grabbed a small box of medical bandages and gauze, still in a plastic bag that rested on top of a recently cracked crystal table, and shoved both into his already cluttered fanny pack.

Magnus reached in, snatching the gauze and stowing it into one of his pockets, leaving more room for Toki to rearrange his things. “And you’re totally fine with me beating the ever-lasting shit out of him?” he asked, earning a mischievous little glance from the younger man. “All by myself?”

“Wells, I’ms gonna to gets him first,” Toki contentedly pointed out, and earned a snicker from Magnus when he dared to smile at the thought. “Ams doing half the works. Also, lets me wear some of the rings.”

“Fine, fine.” Magnus offered his fingers up to Toki, amused when the young man stopped and hovered and admired the large, heavy steel rings bought for the sole purpose of rearranging another man’s face. He raised a brown when he saw Toki reach for a devilish ring adorned with curled horns. “Not that one, I like that one.”

“Evens better.” Toki pulled the ring from Magnus’ middle, sticking out his tongue as he tried it on, along with a few others, before earning a slightly sarcastic look of approval from Magnus.

“Ready?” Magnus asked again, admittedly smitten by how well the ring suited Toki.

“Waits, I forgots my hat.”

Magnus headed to the door, taking his time, stopping briefly to admire the view from the window and take in the magnificent view, while also picking up on rushed footsteps hitting the floor, Toki nearly tripping over himself and putting on the last bit of his outfit, then claiming Magnus’ free hand as his, and yanking him close into a brief, but passionate kiss.

“Let’s go,” he said after slowly pulling away, eyes locked on Magnus as he opened the door, ready to be led into the light.

#fanfic #toki wartooth #magnus hammersmith #metalocalypse #fanfiction #unbeta'd

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bladekindeyewear · 4 years

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HS^2 bloggin’ mainline 2020-09-29

More Homestuck time! Continuing on the outside-canon plot. Livebloggin’ starts now...

> CHAPTER 14. The Best Laid Plans

Wait, who’s house is this? Was this Roxy’s? (When I saw a glimpse browsing my twitter feed during the debate, I saw Yiffy on the ground accosted.)

> (==>)

THEY’RE JUST HOME?!?!?????

HOW??? HOW could the heat be off so badly?

Jane’s arrogant, but one of the CHARACTERISTICS of her arrogance is that she underestimates the character and capability of her political opponents. How would she NOT consider the possibility that these kids would return home again even while the heat was on?? How would she assume that JOHN would be too smart to come back to--

...oh right, she may not know John is involved or willing to do anything. That’s fair. But the kids??

I’m sure there’s going to be SOME sort of explanation of why the heat is off. Also, I wonder who made that anti-Jane battle plan chart? John himself, or Karkat or something? Karkat’s usually the chart-er.

JOHN: wow, i feel like i'm barely keeping myself sitting. JOHN: if it weren't for keeping you kids safe i'd be out there right now!

Hm. Are they counting on the fact that Crockercorp would KNOW that John and Vriska are both there to intimidate them from moving in against them? From a sheer difference-in-firepower standpoint after Vriska’s big display?

HARRY: and some of us aren't gods and shit. JOHN: i'm detecting a hint of judgement in your voice, there, harry anderson JOHN: don't you enjoy being a part of all this? finally getting to be in the thick of it all? HARRY: i mean i was having a fine time at school, if i'm being honest. HARRY: all this tear-assing back and forth between my home and various points of interest over the past few days has me pretty beat.

Yeah, most kids don’t appreciate being involved in war. Even Vrissy immediately showed some regrets no matter how much she liked to think of herself as wanting to get out there.

HARRY: also i wouldn't call this "the thick of it all" JOHN: oof, getting air quotes'd by my own son. JOHN: we had to hide in a forsythia bush on the way back here when that drone flew by! JOHN: that's the thick of father-son hijinks if i ever saw it! JOHN: well, modern day war hijinks, but i'll take what i can get, you know??

(Be more considerate, John!!) Hm, so they DID sneak their way back in here? I mean, John’s powers may have helped them get through unnoticed, but this is still a big stretch.

HARRY: i'm not knocking the old adrenaline thrill, or helping out Vrissy's moms or anything. HARRY: i'm just saying i was literally just here and you told me to leave, so i hope this is where we're gonna park it for a minute. HARRY: a boy's gotta breathe. JOHN: yeah, well, this wasn't my plan, either. JOHN: but rose sent out some false intel about us heading toward my house, so technically this is the safest place we can be right now, since they cleared the area and everything. JOHN: i guess.

Ahhhh. Okay. Yeah, a Seer of Light can float an attention lure and know it’ll be an effective enough distraction.

HARRY: hmm. JOHN: what? HARRY: now YOU look like you're hiding some extra commentary. JOHN: oh, i don't need to burden you with all the bureaucratic stuff, it's boring. HARRY: well now hold up, dad. HARRY: a minute ago you were all "we're in the fight together," and now you're backing out of sharing the details? JOHN: it's not really- HARRY: am i a part of this or not? JOHN: well i'd sure say you were! JOHN: but i guess maybe my thoughts on what is or isn't right for the operation aren't up to snuff. JOHN: because here i am, sitting in the dugout, same as you. HARRY: in the dugout?

Mhmm, John’s sore about Rose not counting on John as a heavy hitter. He got back INTO this in part because he missed all the action and relevance, and now they’re telling him to stop and stand still? That’s never been a command John’s easily agreed with. For now, protecting the kids (Blood!) is enough to keep him sitting, but if they (and Vriska) start encouraging him...

HARRY: plus i wouldn’t have been able to get your measurements for some clothes that actually fit you if we hadn’t come back here where all my sewing stuff is.

Thank god, we might get a non-embarrassing god-pajamas John back

HARRY: you were getting pretty into everything back there with rose and them? getting to be with the old crew and everything, like the stories you told me about the game? JOHN: yeah. HARRY: that sucks. JOHN: i had a good plan, too! JOHN: it just wasn't good enough for karkat, i guess. JOHN: i'm just not "experienced enough in combat strategy"

Oh huh, so that’s John’s discarded plan he’s holding. Karkat's faction hasn’t quite succeeded the bloody (heh) way so far, perhaps he needs John’s Breath to add some inspiration to it for the most success but they’re not giving him enough credit? It’s hard to blame them for doubting him, though.

JOHN: that is a plus of being here, at least. JOHN: it's been really nice to get to spend so much time with you. HARRY: um. yeah, it's not so bad. HARRY: anyway, before you ruffle my hair or anything, it looks like things are getting a bit heated between the vriskas over there. HARRY: maybe we should offer them a snack to bring the mood back down? JOHN: me, mess up your hair when you’ve worked so hard on that look? i do know you at least that well, harry anderson HARRY: thank god.

Cute!

VRISKA: So you actually want to know what I’m thinking now? You want my opinion? VRISSY: Um...Yes? VRISSY: I'm not Really Sure what’s going on right Now. VRISKA: What? VRISSY: I just was wondering why you’re so pissed off at me. VRISKA: What the fuck are you talking about? VRISKA: I’m not pissed at you, you haven’t done shit 8asically at all since i’ve been here. VRISKA: I just can’t 8elieve I’m 8ack stuck in this tacky rumpusblock after all of that!

Both Vriskas are constantly assuming the other Vriska is thinking about them because they’re both Vriska, when they’re really both self-cente-- no, that’s not quite true. Vrissy constantly assumes Vriska is thinking about her when she isn’t, and Vriska is somewhat grated because Vrissy belongs in this universe and she isn’t? Or--

Gosh they both have so many issues going on and firewalls up that I can’t actually make heads or tails of it. Usually what’s on Vriska’s mind is painfully obvious from her dodges, but Vrissy is so oblique with her OWN weird thought processes that-- god I dunno

VRISSY: We could do Something if You Wanted. VRISKA: Huh? VRISSY: If you’re 8ored. VRISSY: This isn’t my House, but Harry has video games and Movies and shit. VRISSY: Actually, we’re pro8a8ly 8etter off not watching his movies. VRISSY: His taste is Worse than His Dad’s. VRISKA: AGGGHHH!!!!!!!!

They’re from two different worlds, yeah.

VRISKA: No, I don’t want to watch a fucking movie! How the fuck can you think a8out movies????????? VRISKA: How are you okay with any of this? VRISSY: Any of What? VRISKA: 8eing left at home like a couple of dri88ling of wigglers!

Vriska invests all of her self-worth in what she can bring to the table relevance-ways. Her self-esteem couldn’t survive the sidelines.

VRISKA: How are you so calm right now? Your lusii were training you, right? And you’re a troll, you’re definitely five times stronger than a human! And if you’re my clone, you are way more 8adass than little miss Fussy Fangs. VRISKA: I can’t 8elieve you just stayed 8ehind?!?? VRISSY: Well...they told me to. And they’re my Moms.

COMPLETELY different lives. Vriska has never really accepted, never really KNEW what “peaceful life” is actually supposed to be, nor how alluring and satisfying it is.

VRISKA: Clearly not a good plan, 8ecause then I would 8e part of it! VRISKA: What’s the point of me even coming to this shitty fake reality if I’m not supposed to fix it?

hahahahahahahaha

VRISSY: Yeah, they told me about That stuff, but a Lot of the Shit that Happened in the Session if just not in the History Books. VRISSY: You weren’t Really mentioned that Much. VRISKA: Excuse me? VRISSY: People know who you Are, 'cause we had to Memorize the names of Every one of the Players, Even the ones who didn’t last very Long. VRISKA: You’re trying to tell me that there’s a whole recorded history of SGRUB, and I’m not in it? VRISSY: You’re not not in it. VRISSY: I guess they Mostly Focused on the Creators who Ascended, you know?

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

--hm, what if some of the pre-retcon timeline where Vriska WASN’T as involved DID fold its way into this one? Explaining Jane remembering Gamzee showing up early in her session to sell her troll blood when that was (if we’re remembering right, correct me if I’m wrong) erased by the retcon in favor of Vriska time-traveling in in his place?

VRISKA: Whoever was schoolfeeding you was a complete 8ulgesucker, because I “ascended” 8efore any of the humans did!! VRISKA: Literally 8illions of years 8efore, since our session was the one that created theirs!!!!!!!! VRISKA: I was the 8ne who 8uided John’s 8uffoonish 8lue ass all the way through his first 8ew days in the Medium! VRISKA: I m8de all the plans to take down the J8cks! VRISKA: I SINGLE H8ND8DLY! VRISKA: CURED YOUR MOTHER’S FUCKING ALCH8LISM!!!!!!!! JOHN: uh, vriska, everything okay over there? VRISKA: EVERYTHING’S FINE, J8HN! JOHN: okay. JOHN: do you girls want a snack? VRISKA: AAAAGGH!

HA!

HARRY: vriska, eat whatever. HARRY: just not the zebra cakes, those are mine.

(Zebra cakes are kinda Barbasol-bomb-like, right? Doom thing, because black-and-white stripes like most of the black-and-white-striped explosives in Homestuck? --Nah that’s a stretch.)

> (==>)

--That’s not Jane’s head, that’s JOHN’S head giving a thumbs up. Wow.

...Your plan prominently features Yiffy even though you didn’t know she existed until a couple hours ago?

JOHN: so anyway, as you can see, this would have worked just fine! HARRY: no i think karkat’s right. this looks like shit, dad. JOHN: you know, me letting your earlier use of the word "fuck" slide wasn't a blanket approval for all cursing in front of me. HARRY: sorry. HARRY: try not to make such a shit plan, and i won't call it that. JOHN: haha wow.

Harry really is his son, wow

HARRY: i mean, i still can't believe i told vrissy and them to bring a dead celebrity to school. HARRY: what was i THINKING. JOHN: you were thinking it sounded hilarious! JOHN: but yeah, in hindsight, maybe not the best call. JOHN: maybe it’s genetic? HARRY: yeah.

Harry really is his son, wow

HARRY: i kinda can’t believe we’re all still alive, actually. HARRY: and how did YOU make it this far, being so bad at this? JOHN: i had my friends with me, i guess.

Pretty much!

Plus, they haven’t really had time to talk about what happened with Dave, yet, and he doesn’t want to tank the mood by bringing him up.

Glad John’s taken some time to deal with that offscreen, so he can keep being cheery here.

He’d spent so long seeing mostly the best parts of Roxy in Harry Anderson. He forgot, he guesses, to look for himself in there, too. And if what they have in common right now is a lack of strategic foresight, hey, he’ll take it.

Hah, fair enough!

JOHN: speaking of friends, i will say the snacks were a good call, at least! JOHN: i don’t hear any more screaming, anyway. JOHN: see, that's one good plan between the two of us!

--they left, didn’t they.

> (==>)

HARRY: oh, that was definitely them leaving, wasn’t it. JOHN: ah.

--So was Vrissy peer-pressured along, or practically abducted?

> (==>)

--Oh, this was the picture I glimpsed and scrolled past on Twitter! She’s not on the ground, she’s running-- good.

> (==>)

--ALREADY! Fuck yes! :D

(and those cute paws on jade’s gloves wow)

> (==>)

--Oh I thought that was an air-lift! No, they were just diving to the ground with her.

Man, the pacing of this panel-to-panel composition throws me SO much. Stuff happens without being properly established, and we’re shown the wrong keyframes to internalize it easily. (I hope I don’t have to keep mentioning how much I miss Andrew’s talent at it, even though the art WITHIN panels is better here.)

So Jane is confronting them with soldiers.

ROSE: Oh, is this one of those rare and marvelous beasts, the "villain speech"? ROSE: I've written one or two in my time. ROSE: I'm on the edge of my seat. I hope it's better than your political material; I've always found that rather trite. JANE: I haven't given a political speech in years, Ms. Lalonde. I don't know what you're referring to. I'm just a simple business woman. JADE: right with her own talk show JADE: and multi billion dollar merchant company and lobbying groups! JANE: That's what a business woman is, Jade, dear.

--ah, in this perspective maybe Jane DOESN’T have the resources to be “everywhere” yet. Makes more sense that they could’ve left the home unguarded.

JANE: But enough of that. I'll skip straight to the point. JANE: You are on my territory, in the presence of my secret police, laying your hand on my investment.

QUIT DEHUMANIZING THE GIRL

JANE: You think I come anywhere unprepared? I haven't left the house without an armed guard in years. ROSE: Is it the libidinous power rush that comes from snapping your fingers at men with guns, or are you worried that you might accidentally do something heroic?

Rose usually has decent snapbacks I guess

I don’t think Rose’s plan was to admit themselves into custody like Jane is asking, but I’m not ruling it out.

> (==>)

(this image is so cute)

JADE: wow could you be any more full of yourself?? JADE: shut the fuck up for a minute and look up!

> (==>)

Ahwhoops. Jane misunderstood who’s in control of the situation.

> (==>)

Ooh! That’s threatening. :)

(Tavros is playing along, but he doesn’t HAVE to fake that sweat.)

KANAYA: If You Make One Single Move I Will Bite Him Directly On The Exterior Shout Tunnel KANAYA: I Will Turn Your Son Into A Rainbow Drinker KANAYA: Then You Will Have A Rainbow Drinker Son JANE: That's not how troll vampirism works, don't treat me like an imbecile! JANE: You think I don't know everything there is to know about your disgusting biology? KANAYA: KANAYA: Okay Then I Will Just Break His Fucking Neck

HAH

Yeah, mutual child-threat standoff. Jane isn’t going to make that sacrifice, AND can’t be SEEN making that sacrifice.

> (==>)

Jane Crocker hesitates.

This is something that she used to do regularly. Hesitate. Stop and think and weigh her options. Talk out every possible scenario and the impact they might have, morally and optically and socially. What would the political apparatus think? What would her social media followers think, her friends? As the years went by and she honed her instincts, she found herself doing this less and less.

Yeah, the difference between deserving a Just death or not is whether you’re willing to check yourself and allow another’s will to override your own. To allow someone who ISN’T you to have a say in how reality unfolds, to consider that what you want may not be right.

The impact that her words made became lessened when spread out across such a wide and thirsty audience, as public sentiment began to swing her way. She stopped thinking about how she would be received, and more about how she could play to the people she knew would receive her favorably.

Yeesh. Topical.

Looking up she sees Tavvy with tears in his eyes. Rage and guilt surge inside her. This situation is not her fault.

Anger is based in fear. Jane is not just afraid for Tavros, but afraid that she’s at fault. And the more she fears and has to deny that, the angrier she’ll get.

Is it angry enough to make a rash decision here?

> (==>)

JANE: This situation is not my fault!

Jesus, she even said it out loud?

JANE: I'm the only one who has taken any interest in her upbringing or education! JANE: Or have you forgotten who has been paying for her schooling and taking charge of her introduction into society? JADE: i never asked you to do that! JADE: you offered! JADE: so stop calling me ungrateful for not sucking your dick over things i never asked for!

Taking something that was a clear, ostensibly-selfless gift and using it as a transactional club. I hate that. Nothing shows how transparently little you actually believed in the “selfless thing to do” than that.

> (==>)

She can't just stand here and let herself be humiliated, allowing two architects of the insurgency mess her around like this.

If they were to kill Tavros, the entire world would see them commit this war crime. And weighed in the balance, Lalonde and Harley would be off the playing board. Saving your daughter certainly counted as a heroic death, and with the damage they'd done to humanity, it would also probably be just.

Tavros has not called out for her once. Perhaps he knows what her choice was always going to be.

Whoa you made that choice pretty easily, psycho-Jane. Are you actually gonna try it???

> (==>)

JAKE: Tavvy!

Oh shit, the plan! :D

--if Jake isn’t just. Um. Taking the threat to Tavvy seriously, not having realized this was a bluff. Um. Jake?

> (==>)

That looks like he’s taking it seriously. Shit.

At least Jane will look like even MORE of a monster if she gives the order this way.

> (==>)

JANE: Stand down!

I don’t think Jake’s gonna listen to you when it comes to Tav’s safety anymore.

> (==>)

JANE: Get out of my sight.

Oh.

Is she letting Jade, Rose and Yiffy go? --probably, but it’s unclear.

Damn this panel-to-panel framing not conveying what’s going on properly.

Guess that’s it for now! Patreon Commentary....... I’ve been putting off the commentary backlog for a long time, but I think the Homestuck Commentary coverage deficit still has to wait a while longer because the World Is A Fuck and I have to devote more time to stress relief than usual. Take care y’all

EDIT: extra bit on gamzee corpse here

#Homestuck #hs2 #Homestuck Liveblog #upd8 #Homestuck^2 #spoiler #spoilers

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365days365movies · 3 years

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March 5, 2021: The Tale of the Princess Kaguya (2013) (Part Two)

Am I going to watch Kaguya-sama again after this?

It is a funny show, so I’m probably gonna watch a compilation or something. Anyway, where was I? OH RIGHT! The Tale of Princess Kaguya, Recap Part Two! This movie is beautiful so far, and I’m enjoying this adaptation of the classic story reinterpreted. Told the girlfriend about this, and she mentioned one of her favorite games: Okami.

It’s based quite heavily on Japanese mythology, and also has a similar aesthetic to this movie. Rumors persist that they’ll be rebooting this, so fingers crossed! Anyway, let’s get back to the movie! First part of the Recap is right here!

Recap (2/3)

After the dream/return to the palace, Hime seems to accept her fate as Princess Kaguya, and is no longer the rebellious and rambunctious kid she was before. And yes, I’ll be referring to her as Kaguya from now on...until the time is right. She studies (and suffers) in silence, clearly unhappy and depressed.

Miyatsuki either doesn’t understand it, or is completely ignorant of her suffering. He brings her a pet bird to keep, which she somewhat brushes off. However, she lets the bird go, as if wishing she could fly away with it.

But time once again passes, and Kaguya grows more beautiful, and the rumors of this beauty spread. People gather outside to palace to get a glimpse of her, and Miyatsuki has made sure to never show her face publicly. Her servant, Me no Warawa (Hynden Walch) is accosted outside of the palace, with a pile of messages and letters for her. She also brings cherry blossoms to the essentially captive Kaguya, for which she is thankful.

Words of her beauty and bamboo-based origins are also spread by Akita to a group of five suitors, all of whom are completely entranced. These five suitors are a classic part of the story, and are also represented in the recent anime based upon it (Kaguya-sama: Love is War).

The five suitors LITERALLY race there, spurred on by Akita’s...really horny speech,not gonna lie, dude says that this (13-year old) girl got his “juices flowing”, real fuckin’ quote there. Guuuh. Anyway, Miyatsuki and Sagami are overjoyed, as marrying any of these dudes is a guarantee for a happy and prosperous life. But Kaguya...is honestly surprised that she’s supposed to be happy. FUCK, MAN.

She’s SUPER not interested in these guys, but they are ridiculously interested in her. She meets them in honor of her father, but not on her own behalf. They present their proposals to her, and I’ll introduce them in order! First up, Prince Kuramochi (Beau Bridges), an older man of great wealth who basically compares her to a jeweled tree branch on the mountain of Hourai. Cool? In the anime, he’s translated into the best character in the series, game and ramen lover Fujiwara Chika.

Second is Prince Ishidzukuri no Miko (James Marsden), who’s already completely fucked because James Marsden is voicing him, and he basically only plays characters destined to be cucked. Check out my recap of The Notebook for more on that. He pledges to worship her, and compares her to the Stone Begging Bowl of Buddha. In the anime, he’s translated into uptight rules-follower Miko Iino.

Ishidzukuri’s comparison is mocked by number three, Abe no Miushi, Lord Minister of the Right (Oliver Platt), a corpulent man that compares her to...a robe of fire-rat fur. You’re comparing her...to rat hair clothes? Um...wow, dude, that’s legit insulting. No wonder you don’t have a counterpart in the anime yet.

Suitor number four, Grand Counselor Ootomo no Miyuki (Daniel Dae Kim) agrees with me that that’s a SHITTY comparison, and instead compares her to the Five-Colored Jewel around a Dragon’s Neck. His counterpart in the anime is the main love interest, Miyuki Shirogane. Yeah, sort of rigged in his favor in the show. It’s based on it, not a true adaptation.

And lastly is the sullen Middle Counselor Isonokami no Maro (John Cho), who compares her to a cowry shell from a swallow’s nest, which ensures safety in childbirth. And his counterpart is the equally sullen and video-game loving Yu Ishigami, another one of the best characters in the series.

OK, enough about the anime, yeah? Sorry, I just...I just really like it. Anyway, the suitors’ comparisons give Kaguya an idea. She plays the koto for the men, which entrances them (and me, it’s a gorgeous sound), and she thanks them for the sentiment. However, for her hand in marriage, they will need to bring her each of the treasures they compared her to. After all, they compared her to rare treasures, meaning that she is also not easy to obtain. By doing this, they show that they are worthy of that treasure. NICE.

The men leave, noting that it was quite impossible to get these treasures, and that Kaguya is a rare jewel that no one will capture. Objectifying, but OK. When they leave, everybody around the castle leaves as well. Which, to be fair, was exactly what Hime wanted.

Sagami is PIIIIIIIIIIISED, and quits. Miyatsuki’s not exactly chuffed either. But Hime’s finally free, and goes out of the palace with her mother and Warawa to see the city and the cherry blossom trees. Good for her. ‘Bout time she had some fun and joy in her life.

It’s cut off VERY fast, however, when she encounters a family of commoners, who only recognize her as nobility and nothing further. Realizing how separate she now is from them as they bow to her, she breaks a little. And they leave to go back to the city. While getting back there, though, who should she run into but Sutemaru, who’s just stolen a chicken. She calls to him, and he stops and recognize her...but they leave and he’s caught. And Hime cries.

Time passes. Three years, to be specific, as they actually tell us this time. Hime’s still close to her mother, as they still garden together in the back. However, relationships with her father are less great. He comes in and tells her that the first suitor, Kuramochi, has come back with the jeweled branch after all this time. Hime can’t believe it.

Kuramochi comes in with the jeweled branch, which dazzles brilliantly. Kaguya asks how he found it. He weaves a dramatic tale of happening upon the mountain and the branch. As this takes place, though, a local craftsman comes by to collect his fee for...making the branch. And now that he’s made, the cheap-ass Prince takes the fuck off.

Next up is Abe, the rat skin guy, with fire-rat robe in hand. Kaguya calls his bluff, though, and tells him to drop that shit in the fire. If it’s real, then it won’t burn, and the two will marry forthwith. And that shit BURNS. Which sucks, because dude thought it was real, and spent literally ALL of his money on it.

Afterwards, in a conversation between Hime and Waraka, it’s revealed that Miyuki’s actually going to get the Dragon Pearl, and we see that in a gorgeous sequence. It doesn’t go well.

Meanwhile, Ishidzukuri drops by, having brought something for Kaguya. It’s not the bowl promised to her, but is instead a sweet little flower. He admits that he went searching for the bowl, filled with love for Kaguya. Instead, he found a treasure of nature, the flower, and was meant to represent his devotion and the depth of his feelings for her.

And that’s actually very sweet. But he’s James Marsden, so he’s FUCKED. But she definitely seems entranced by his offer to take her some place natural and beautiful and far away. Impassioned and full of love, he lifts open the blinds and sees...his wife. GODDAMN IT JAMES MARSDEN. The cuckee becomes the cucker.

Which sucks, because she actually did fall for him there for a second. We next hear of the Counselor, sent to fetch the cowry shell. However, he tragically dies in the attempt. This knowledge shatters Hime, who rips up her private garden in absolute sorrow. Her mom, who’s genuinely the best mom, tells her not to blame herself.

Meanwhile, as all of this is happening, Princess Kaguya has the ear of the Emperor, the Mikado (Dean Cain). He wishes for Kaguya to become one of his brides, and will make her father a member of the court. Miyatsuki, ever tone-deaf to his daughter’s desires, is thrilled. But Hime refuses, to which her father says that refusal of the Emperor’s wishes is impossible. And Hime says that she will do it to make her father happy, and then she’ll kill herself immediately after the wedding.

Um...fuck. I...I think I’m giving this one a Part Three. See you there!

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nihilisme · 3 years

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y’all know what time it is. i can’t sleep so i’m gonna write

I talk about some pretty heavy shit later on - so don’t read if you get triggered by sexual assault/rape/abuse etc.

It’s nearing my period and every time it’s close to my period, my PMDD symptoms flare up. For those who don’t know, it’s PMS pumped to the max. You have extremely horrible thoughts, yes, at times, suicidal - you feel incredibly hopeless, and it’s basically just this guaranteed time slot every month of where you will feel like utter, utter shit. Without fail.

Funny enough I’ve never noticed that the horrible feelings are a recurring cycle until I met my current boyfriend. And to my horror, I realized my mom had been dealing with this for years. She’d have horrible fits of rage during this time, and I honestly feel so bad that her husband didn’t care enough, and was too stupid, to get her proper help. Yeah she’s fucking difficult. But if you enable abusive behavior you’re as bad as the abuser.

Never mind my mom at this point. But the PMDD symptoms are incredibly lessened when I am on birth control. I suspect if I were on other medications it would lessen the symptoms more, but birth control fucks with me enough already that I don’t feel comfortable taking other meds.

And yet I still cried so hard yesterday knowing that one of my friends is hanging out with somebody I had a relationship fallout with. It’s like - you can’t make everyone like you, I know that. And I am in pretty healthy relationships with other people. AND on top of that - I know that I’ve been relentlessly working on improving myself, really fighting very hard to not let my bad thoughts control my life.

I’ve been living in this constant limbo of working on myself, applying healthy coping skills, and improving throughout the month - and then hitting that period of PMDD and feeling like all I worked was for nothing. Like, it does get better on the long run - but the dips can be as debilitating as they are discouraging. It is... harrowing to describe how suicidal I can get during PMDD. And the worst part is, for many years, the feelings just made sense. And even yesterday, and now, the feelings make sense because I do have low self esteem still, something I work really hard on fixing every day.

Being a woman is hell, honestly. I’ve been constantly hounded and accosted for sex since I was 14. Part of it because my abusive relationship with my parents led me into chasing boyfriends at an early age - to replace my dysfunctional relationship with what I hoped would more stable - WITHOUT EVEN REALIZING I WAS DOING IT. Because I was a child. Just wanting stable, reliable affection lol.

I was raped when I was 18. When I confessed what happened to my parents, my dad told me I was asking for it because of what I was wearing. Because I was in his room - even though at that point, we’d been going out for 8 months. And I drew my boundaries clearly. I didn’t want to have sex. I gave him everything else. I basically let him use my body the way he wanted - because I thought if I let a man use my body, my emotional needs wouldn’t be too much. I thought it was a fair exchange, because at that point I hadn’t realized that being in a relationship wasn’t a fucking business deal. Because that’s all I’d been taught.

Even before that relationship all a guy wanted from me in the end was sex. And they were teenage boys - sure. It’s mostly hormones at that point. But I remember my second boyfriend spreading rumors in high school that I was a prude because I refused to have sex with him lol.

In college, I had a grad TA I worked under who would make me do all his work because I was a woman. This isn’t conjecture - he literally said it was a woman’s work to do the “admin” work. AKA - GRADING ENGINEERING PAPERS. WITH PHYSICS, CALCULUS, AND OTHER ENGINEERING SUBJECTS (this was an intro engineering class, it had all the flavors of engineering subjects thrown in). You’re really gonna sit here and tell me the subject of physics is just administrative work to grade. Ok pal. What the fuck ever.

I met another professor in college, when I was doing my final engineering project - it was a data science project, and at that point it was early on before Data Science was a big buzzword. So being seniors in college who were engineering students but not exactly comp sci students (hard to explain) we decided to go to an expert to help get us started. I went with a white guy with whom I was pretty friendly, acquainted with at the time. And then when we met this professor - he basically ripped me a new asshole because I wasn’t “prepared”. And he only yelled at me, and not the guy I was with. “Why are you even asking me such basic questions? Why are you not prepared?” But literally only directing those questions at me, the brown girl in the room. NONE of the hostility at the white guy.

I have other stories. Especially at my last work place - but there’s just a myriad of it and I kind of want to get back to the meat of my story again.

Realizing I have PMDD has just been the icing on the cake on the experience of being a woman tbh. On top of the emotional abuse I experienced my entire life, sexual abuse I faced when I was 18, the struggle of getting through an engineering degree, knowing that every month my struggles basically reset is kind of... wow. It’s almost too much honestly. Idk how I’ve been holding on all this time.

And maybe this is the time I should toot my horn, for the sake of my sanity. I’ve had some pretty cool jobs since I graduated college. Like, the type of jobs that make people IRL go, Wow, when I talk about it. The prestige that comes with it, I won’t lie, is like a straight shot of crack to the brain. I’ve never done crack so I’m sure that was 100% completely scientifically accurate.

But truly, I do wonder how the fuck I’ve made it through all of this. I’ve made it through all of it and I’ve thrived. And on top of it all - I am so thankful for my loving boyfriend who consistently shows me love. I love him so much. It’s easy to take things for granted now, when I feel more stable. Because when I don’t I feel like it’s literally magma trying to escape my pores. The anger, the horrible feelings, are crazy. Are too much.

I need to write about this shit to remind myself what I’ve gone through and what I’ve overcome. And I’ll keep accomplishing things, even when there are times when I don’t feel that way at all. When I feel like things are crumbling around me and it feels like nothing will heal, and nothing will get fixed.

They will if I just ride the feelings out, and know that it is my PMDD. As shitty and horrible as I feel, I know it’s the PMDD. And when I finally bleed, the feeling will pass. And then the cramps will begin lol.

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jo2uke-himboshikata · 3 years

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Five of the worst movies I've seen

5. Ratatoing

Ratatoing is a well-known one but it really deserves a place in this list. People think of it as a so-bad-it's-good thing but it's really not. There's no story. It looks like a shitty ps2 game, at best. There's a gearing-up montage sequence, but they're in an empty white void and they're all t-posing. It's the laziest thing I've ever seen and it is so so so boring and annoying.

4. The Thinning (and sequel)

The Thinning starring Logan Paul featuring very special guest Stacey Dash. I got the youtube red free trial to watch this. I wasn't aware of this at first, but turns out that the analogy being made is anti-abortion. Overall it is very very fascist. There is actually a sequel called 'the thinning: new world order" which moves away from the pro life thing a bit, and towards making some vague hamfisted statement about political campaigns and corruption. It was insulting to watch.

3. In-app-propriate comedy

Ben mentioned this one to me recently as I had forgotten about it. Truly a spectacle to behold. A comedy sketch anthology created by Vince Offer, the shamwow guy, after he got arrested for beating up an escort. He wrote and directed along with his friend Ari Schaffir, who plays his character "the amazing racist" who does "on the street" bits where he does incredibly racist shit, offering black people "boat trips back to africa" as they walk by, accosting jewish people in the supermarket asking them to sign a petition to apologize for killing jesus, stuff like that. He almost got his ass beat for the boat trips thing. The crazy thing is that Vince Offer is israeli american and Ari Schaffir's dad is a holocaust survivor. But they're both Joe Rogan orbiters. Also, oscar winning actor adrian brodey is in it. Funnily enough, the movie he won best actor for, the pianist, was also about a holocaust survivor. Life works in mysterious ways huh.

2. Adam Sandler (non-specific)

I'm trying really hard to pick an adam sandler movie for this list because I've seen a lot of them, but they aren't really all as bad as you'd expect. Some are funny-bad and some are boring, lazy, shameless, and pathetic bad. The latter are what we're talking about here. Some have actual plots and redeeming qualities, and some are just totally soulless. Jack and Jill, Blended, and Grown Ups spring to mind. Grown ups is probably the worst of those for me because it's just him and the frat pack on vacation with their families with some KFC product placement. There is NOTHING going on in that movie, just some fat shaming, racist asian stereotypes (there's a lot of that specifically in sandler movies, dunno why)

Conversely, I now pronounce you chuck and larry was pretty bad but in a much more fun way. It was a rollercoaster of emotions for me. In between the horrible racist and homophobic shit, the whole movie I was thinking "if they just make them kiss at the end this would be a pretty good movie actually" but of course they can't force themselves to kiss their bro on the lips so their cover gets blown, but then for some reason everyone loves them anyway because they had become media darlings for pretending to be openly gay firefighters, and they did so much to stand up for gay rights. Absolutely insulting, but if you pretend they're actually closet bi and slowly falling in love and using the tax break thing as an excuse to sleep together then it's pretty entertaining so I'd have to say that grown ups is worse because the whole time I was watching grown ups I was just wishing I was dead.

1. Last ounce of freedom

This is the angriest I've ever been watching anything. It is by far the most fascist piece of film masquerading as simple family values that I've ever seen. It's about an old retired army general whose son gets killed in duty and he's fraught with conflict because he always encouraged his son to join the army and now his son is dead. He's also a total dick to everyone in his family. To deal with the conflict, he fights against the war on Christmas. Oh yeah he's also the mayor of the town they live in, that's important. He decides he isn't going to let the libs oppress him anymore so he puts up a cross or whatever on city hall and doesn't CARE if everyone attacks him for it. The villain is the ACLU lawyer who comes in and threatens legal action because christmas has to be secular now and good honest christians aren't allowed to speak out. But it isn't like he's just a lowly hardware store owner or something, he's literally THE MAYOR. He's the person in the position of power in the movie and he's whining the whole time about how christians are oppressed. I forget how it ends but I know it made me real angry so I assume he came to terms with getting his son killed and accepted that dying for your country is good actually and his son was brave to do it. And obviously he puts the christ back in Christmas because that was never actually in jeopardy in the first place. This was too real to be funny to me. Makes me think about all the shitheads who watch this and love it and how the things they do and the way they live their lives brings so much harm to those around them and this movie just affirms all of that. It disgusts me. I can't think of anything I'd rather watch less than this movie short of two hours of footage of actual violence.

#film #my stuff

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clinioelerrante · 4 years

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To be fainthearted…

That a student of Hogwarts was prowling the corridors of the castle in the wee hours of the morning was not uncommon.

The fact that this student belonged to Gryffindor House was even less so.

That such a student had hair that was red as hellfire could almost be considered normal.

The fact that this particular student was mumbling curses and oaths about a certain frizzy-haired which, it had been part of the regular school scene for more than 4 years.

But for such a student, at the height of Dolores Umbridge's reign of terror, to wander aimlessly, alone, under a disillusioning spell, with the marauder's map in hand and risking exemplary punishment or even expulsion from school, was decidedly atypical.

“A fucking wart? Mmm-hmm. A fucking wart and a fucking teaspoon?...” He mumbled as he took long strides through the corridors, almost oblivious to everything else. “My arse!”

Everything had started after the DA meeting. Cho Chang had accosted Harry in room of requirement while the rest of the group had dispersed. Hermione and he had gone to Gryffindor common room at and were having a relaxed conversation until she insisted that he complete his task while she wrote a letter. Hermione's parchment was already over the edge of the table and hanging dangerously close to the floor, when Harry came through the hole behind the portrait.

It had been perfectly obvious that something had happened. While one could not say that Harry had arrived with a completely dumb face, it was no less true that he was the closest thing to the face of someone who had been struck by a stunning spell.

With Harry’s apparent inability to explain what had happened, Hermione had taken the initiative in the conversation until he blew up the cauldron:

“Have you kissed?”

Wait... What? Harry would have kissed Cho or maybe it was Cho who kissed Harry? After the initial surprise, he was enthusiastic about his friend and wished he did it.

Of course! He'd been aware of Hurry’s crush on Cho since last year. One would have to be blind not to see him with that deer's eyes accompanied by a slight drooling every time Cho entered the scene! But following the usual pattern of shitty luck in Harry Potter's life that was the time when the bird was dating Cedric Diggory.

The memory of the partner killed by Peter Pettigrew overshadowed Ron's memories. Cedric was a good guy and his end had been unexpected, unjust and one more to add to the long list of Wormtail's coward crimes. Top of them, the betrayal of Harry's parents: Lily and James Potter.

“You filthy rat!" he swore. “If I had known, I personally would have left you alone with Crookshanks in a nice little room without a single hole in its walls and an undisturbed spell on the door.

The point was that Harry was still attached to Cho, if not more so, and it seemed that she had begun to notice Harry. There was no doubt that he had turned out to be a brilliant teacher in the DA meetings, added to his perpetual challenge to the pink toad and the legendary fight at the quidditch pitch had contributed enormously, to increase his sex appeal according to some whispered comments that he had heard between the women of the DA and some boys.

Ron wished with all his heart that, “For once!”, Harry's bad luck changed and like any normal teenager, he could live a normal life enjoying the intimate affection of a hot girl who she like him, although in his opinion ...a Tornado fan was not good enough for Harry. . . One flash of a long red hair burst into his mind making him shake his head to free himself from such disturbing vision.

But as usual, Harry hadn't had any luck with it either.

Instead of the first-time nervous or inexperienced teenager's kiss, it had resulted in little more than a disaster that had trapped Harry in the pit of insecurity in his ability to kiss properly a girl and later, with Hermione's invaluable assistance and her detailed talk about Cho Chang's state of emotional turmoil, he guessed in Harry, the doubt about the appropriateness of attempting any kind of relationship with such an emotionally damaged girl and, knowing Harry's legendary hero complex, he would be able to give up the girl if he thought it was sparing him any further pain. A massive Dragon’s dung in Ron's opinion, so he had used his best weapon to pull Harry out of his stupefaction and keep him from falling into his usual melancholy self-isolation; a joke:

“No one can feel so many things at once. It would explode!”

Ron doubted that anyone could explode because of it. If himself hadn't exploded with everything that's happened in the last year, it would be strange if someone else did. “Okay. Maybe Neville would go into a coma or pass out, but I don't think so. Dealing with Mrs. Longbottom for so many years had given him much more courage than many would give him credit for.”

In any case, Hermione's words had unleashed an emotional storm inside Ron, and the problem was that he saw no way to refute the logical sequence of events that had been linked together and seemed to form the links of a chain that wrapped around his neck.

Harry was diligent, brilliant, and handsome, he was not. Harry would have deserved to be prefect of Gryffindor, he didn't. Harry was extraordinary in Quidditch, he wasn't. . . “But Victor fucking pumpkin head Krum is too. So rich. Could be richer as Harry even and. . . . and I'm sure he's experienced enough to know how to kiss a woman properly and. . . Oh God! How does Hermione know Harry is a good kisser and who has she been able to compare him to. . . ?”

He couldn't help it. His mind was filled with the slow motion image of Hermione kissing Krum torridly, trapping his ridiculously short hair between her thin fingers and taking his lips as if from them she extracted the air she needed to breathe, while one of his hands remained on her delicate waist and the other slowly ascended from her hip to caress her entire chest, provoking a lustful moan in her.

Ron felt the periphery of his vision turn red and his fists instinctively clenched so tightly that he felt his own nails sink into his flesh. He felt the need to rip the bastard's head off and when he looked up to face him, his mind was filled with Harry's gaze as he kissed Hermione passionately.

A familiar black claw wrapped around Ron's heart and squeezed it empty until it was breathless. He had never felt such pain or such overwhelming despair. Without being able to avoid it, from the depths of his being, a cry of impotence burst out, which ascended through his throat and escaped from him like the roar of the mortally wounded lion that intends to take his killer away with his last breath. . .

“Who's there? Don't try to escape. Inquisitorial Squad, with me!”

Ron cursed himself. He was so overwhelmed by the pain his own mind had generated that he had forgotten about bloody Umbridge and its band of mangy snakes patrolling the school corridors. Without thinking too much, he rushed to the double-leafed doors in front of him and entered.

“Professor Umbridge. Here!”

Blood seemed to be boiling in Ronald Weasley's veins. He'd recognize that voice anywhere. It was like the Malfoy and Weasley families had some sort of bond in destiny that would inevitably lead them to confront each other. The bloody bouncing ferret was on the other side of the door blocking the exit and calling for the great inquisitor to fall on him. Ron could hardly have imagined the satisfaction it would cause the flathead to discover that the student who violated the curfew was a Weasley and, among them, Harry Potter's best friend, no less! Nothing would make him happier than to witness another humiliation by Ronald Weasley. He was in these thoughts when another, much more disturbing, one made its way into his mind.

Umbridge! This would be like an early Christmas present for her. She would take advantage of the fact that it was him to provoke Harry and that would give her the perfect excuse to expel him.

Shit! You bloody fool couldn't have held back yourself, he thought to himself. No wonder Hermione can't see you as anything but a good-for-nothing. . . Hermione! Oh my God! If neither Harry or I are here, the ferret and the fucking toad are going to torment her to death. They're going to beat her and provoke her mercilessly until she quits or explodes and they can finally expel her. This would kill her. Shit, shit, shit, I'm the biggest asshole on the face of the earth. . .

“Grand Inquisitor Dolores Umbridge here". The voice of the disgusting toad was heard on the other side of the door. “I order you to leave that room.”

Ron, not breathing, stood three feet from the door waiting for the fatal decay.

“There's nothing to be afraid of"; he said with false sweetness. “All of us here are friends and we care about the safety of the students at the school. The Ministry only wants the best for all the magical children in the UK...” Ron thought that sounded suspiciously similar to a certain muggle story Hermione had once told him about a witch, one stupid girl and a poisoned apple...

“I'm absolutely sure is not your fault"; and this time there seemed to be some poison in her voice. “No doubt you'd be following the horrible example of Mr. Potter and his friends about how much fun it is to walk around the castle at this hour, but they don't have the good breeding of those born into completely magical families". She said scornfully, “And they can't understand how dangerous it can be to prowl around the castle at these hours, without the supervision of someone fully versed in the ins and outs of true magic society”. Ron swore he heard a chuckle from the silver ferret. “I'm begging you to come out. I promise that you will only receive one warning and we will accompany you to your common room so that you can rest until tomorrow's class”.

That's not what you've been saying publicly so far, you bloody cow. Always promising magic world perfectly safe thanks to the ministry and your “beloved” Fudge, old hag, he thought, trembling with anger. SHE knows more about the magic world, its traditions and its miseries than you will ever know in your entire fucking life. In an ideal world, you wouldn't even be worthy of breathing the same air that she breathes. Instinctively, his magic channelled all his anger into his own hand that seemed to sizzle, longing to meet the wand that waited expectantly in his back pocket.

“Very well”, this time Umbridge's voice was definitely loaded with contempt. “I understand that if you are unable to understand the delicate complexities of the magical world and my desire to ensure your safety is because you have not had the proper education in your born-home. Nothing that a proper punishment can't solve, so, you´ll understand your place”.

This did it. Ron took three steps behind leaving its good fifteen feet with the door.

This sadist thinks it's not pureblood who is here and she's going to take advantage of it to make an example of it. His hand finally met his wand that seemed to emit a buzz of satisfaction to his contact. She will be stunned when she sees that the marauder is one of the “twenty-eight sacred". He thought this one with really loathe, like if bitter gall touched his lips at the memory. If I were anyone else I might be able to escape from this by sounding sorry, but being who I am, she's going to take advantage of it to go against both of them and if she doesn't go against Hermione, Draco will. For a moment a smile escaped his lips as he thought of what Hermione would do to Draco if he openly fought against her while remembering the superb punch the ferret had received in third year. But Malfoy will never attack her openly. He would seek a moment of solitude and would be accompanied by his two gorillas and possibly some Slytherin Deatheater apprentice and, God knows! What they would be capable of doing to her.

As his last smile died on his face, his wand was raised in his arm in a duelling position. Ron knew his fate was already decided. He knew that with him expelled, he would no longer be able to protect Harry and Hermione within the walls of Hogwarts, but nothing would stop him from defending them outside or making a last stand inside. When he confronted Umbridge and her henchmen, he would make his argument clear by giving them a hell of a wand, to make them understand that, just in the moment any of them tried to harm any of their friends, there would be no place under the sun where they could hide from him. So that miserable crew on the other side of the door would get the message and refrain from really drastic actions against his two friends.

Being Ron under age, he would not end up in Azkaban, and the fact that this stinking band knew that he would be free to show up at Hogsmeade from time to time would help reinforce the message. That would give Dumbledore and McGonagall time to regain control of the school and protect both of them. The image of a knight being taken by the queen on a gigantic chessboard gave him a crooked smile meanwhile he faced, wand in hand, his fate. Checkmate, pal.

“Alohomora!”

Alohowhat? What in the h. . .; Ron didn't have time to complete the question that popped into his mind while his frown frowned in shock when he heard the spell on the other side of the door. But, if the door's not locked, why are they. . . ? For the second time, the idea died in his mind as he watched as the doorknob seemed to turn repeatedly in the attempt of someone trying to open the door, apparently in vain.

“ALOHOMORA!” It was heard again from the other side.” What's wrong with the damn door?” Again the voice of Umbridge was heard, this time in an unmistakable tone of irritation, as the doorknob was shaken more and more violently without the door giving way by a single millimetre.

-Get out of the way! This time there was real rage in the voice of the great inquisitor. On the other side of the door, Ron heard her to perform, one after the other, no less than 10 different spells trying to unlock the door and the paroxysmal movement of the doorknob had also given way to the incensed knocking of the door, as if in a primary resource and having failed magic, brute force was being used to force entry. It was then that he realized that his wand seemed to be emitting a dull buzzing sound that made her hand tremble.

“That's enough! I'm sure this is a joke of that brazen poltergeist”. Ron smiled. The toad's voice sounded more like a big walrus's breathing down from too much exercise. “Sure. He must have let out the scream and bewitched the door so that it could not be opened"; she continued, between gasping and panting.

“But professor”, Ron shuddered again at the sound of Malfoy's voice and to realize that his wand was shaking more intensely. “We've known Peeves since the first year, and that's certainly not his voice, nor is this the style of his jokes. He tends to be cruder and coarser by throwing stink bombs or buckets of ice water on the backs of the students. . .” The ferret's peroration was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of a slap on the back of his neck particularly hard.

“Stupid”. Umbridge's voice sounded particularly annoying. “Do you dare to discuss a teacher's judgment? I tell you that all this is the work of that nasty spirit and, if all of you had been properly versed in the magical arts, you would have realized it right away as well”. Ron could not help but have a panting laugh. The toad had just beaten the insufferable presumptuous, frustrated by her inability to open the door and, trying to avoid looking bad in front of her acolytes, she had diverted attention and blame onto the asshole. My word. He would have gladly paid two months' pay for being able to see the ferret's face.

“This only proves the ministry right. The quality of teaching in this place has tragically declined and it is imperative that the ministry take control of it in order to instruct the young wizards and witches in the mastery of their skills. “With me!” It was heard like a whimper and then, the unmistakable tapping of a few steps away.

Ron stood waiting for an invisible trap to fall on him; meanwhile, his wand continued vibrating in his hand, though ever more faintly, until it stopped completely. He remained motionless and almost breathless for a few more minutes, hoping to believe in his good fortune and that he really had escaped from a more than complicated situation. Finally, he decided it was time to take a chance and averted his eyes from the door and consulted the marauder's map. He couldn't believe it! On the map it could clearly read “Ronald Weasley”, but on the other side of the door the map did not reflect the presence of anyone. Even in his surroundings there doesn't seem to be a soul.

Now or never, pal; he said to himself in encouragement and then, he set about turning the doorknob which. As before, it pivoted on its axis smoothly and pulled it, the door to stay locked.

“Shit”, he mumbled, but refrained from further attempts. In a sad irony, it seemed that the same mystery that had saved his freckled arse was keeping him prisoner of the room. “Well", he closed his eyes and as he concentrated he muttered. “Whatever it is, I really appreciate you helping me out, but I'd really like to get out, get to my room and forget about tonight. I swear I've learned the fucking lesson not to wander around the castle after curfew, or at least, not to be such an asshole as to scream in the hallway after curfew”. He looked at the door again and tried to open it, and again this one remained unmoved.

“Bloody hell!” This time the tone of his voice was noticeably louder. He turned in frustration on himself and looking up at the ceiling dropped himself over the door and, leaned on the back of his head as it tapped repeatedly against the wood in an attempt to alleviate his disappointment.

“Okay! It's all right. If the price I have to pay for escaping the damn pink toad is to spend the night in this room, I'll gladly take it. Tomorrow someone will come, open the door, cast the disillusioning spell on me, sneak out and I'll manage to find a way to justify my. . .

He jumped upright as he opened his eyes wide, realizing that he had no idea where he was! It had all happened so quickly and unexpectedly that all he could remember was walking through the door that was closest to him at the time. Once the surprise was over, he began to inspect the room, hoping to recognize it.

“I should've known better”. The sad whisper escaped his lips as if it were the sigh of a condemned man whose last chance for freedom is slipping away.

The shelves followed one another in countless rows . . . “Well, surely not countless. I'll bet Hermione knows “exactly"; the number of them, as well as the number of every damn book inside each and every one of them"; he moaned.

Still, he had to admit. Empty of students, under the twilight of the moonlight filtering through the large windows, the Hogwarts Library was magnificent. Magnificent and intimidating.

“As always, she is able to see things at first sight, which takes the rest of us years"; he sighed. “No wonder I am not even able to keep up with her thoughts when that adorable head of her gets going”. And that was precisely what was bothering him most at this time and had led him to wander aimlessly through the school corridors. That with all her brilliance, all her knowledge, all her fucking logic, she wouldn't have been able to see everything that was bubbling up inside him. . .

Ron had not been aware at first, but gradually he became aware of the presence of candlelight behind some library shelves. Initially he feared that it might be because of the presence of another person in the library, whether it was a student, a teacher or, at worst, Filch and his mangy cat. So he remained quiet, but since the light seemed to be steady, no noise was heard, and the memory that the marauder's map had shown no one in the vicinity, he ventured quietly behind the bookshelf to find out what it was.

It didn't take him long to discover that it was one of the candlesticks that supplied light to the library users, but what was really curious was that it was the only candlestick that seemed to burn in the whole library. He approached it with the aim of extinguishing the candles when they went out by themselves while at the other end of the shelf the candles of another candleholder began to burn expontaneously.

Having grown up in the magic world, these kinds of situations were no surprise to him. They were fascinating, no doubt, but not at all a complete surprise.

He had long known that in one way or another, every wizard, every witch, had left the magical sight of his existence on the world. He knew many examples of them:

The essences of the four founders who died long ago, in the sorting hat. Those of his twin uncles Gideon and Fabian also killed in the first war against Voldemort, in the house clock. The Marauder’s Map, with the essence of James Potter, and his friends. Even, according to Harry's story, who-you-know-who left part of him in the diary that possessed Ginny in her first year.

With more than a thousand years of existence, it was practically impossible to know how many wizards and witches walked, studied and lived among these old stones, and each one of them left his own mark. Some would leave a barely perceptible trace, but others performed such intense episodes of magic that the traces they left behind, seemed to have a will of their own.

The hat was left with the mission of continuing to sort the students by the time the founders were gone.

The house clock, to know the status of each family member and to be able to come to their aid if necessary.

The map conspired so that the big troublemakers could keep up their mischief at school and, the diary, somehow, tried to bring Voldemort back.

This last thought plunged her spirit back into sadness and melancholy bringing back the thoughts that had made her leaves the safety of the tower of Gryffindor:

Is that really all she thinks of me? Does she really think I don't know what Cho Chang is feeling?

Like answering that question, another group of candles went out to be immediately replaced.

I can't really blame her, can I? I've never been good at expressing myself, let alone how I feel, but then again, how could I? How do you tell the most wonderful woman in the world that you're crazy for her? That you regret terribly to be a clumsy, mindless, worthless lout. Which you know you don't deserve her. That you know that you shouldn't even notice me but that you can't help but love her more than my own family, more than Harry, more than the blood that runs through my veins, more than my life itself and that knowing and feeling all that is eating me up inside. How do you tell her you feel all this and more, ‘only’, because you love her?

Ron feels that dull pain in his chest again. A veil of tears struggles to leave his eyes as he rolls his shirt sleeve over them to prevent his vision from becoming blurred, and it is when he refocuses them that he sees it. The candlestick he approaches is no longer extinguished, but seems to beat as if prompting him to approach it, and as he does so, the booklet seems to slowly separate from the rest of his companions on the shelf, prompting him to pick it up.

When Ron takes it, he feels comforting warmth in his fingers, like if the worn book is meant to convey a feeling of friendship and comfort, like if it is telling him in a mute way that everything will be all right after all. A feeling that brings back memories of the day he got his wand. Not his brother's, but his real wand.

“What do you got for me, buddy?”

There's tenderness in Ron's whisper. Any of those familiar with Hogwarts' worst-kept secret would think that the redhead is pouring out in that act and onto an object so intrinsically linked to the image of his beloved, all the love and all the delicacy that he seems unable to show her as a victim of his own inferiority complex, while unwittingly moving towards Hermione's favourite place in the library.

It's magic.

It's part of the magic that resides in every corner of Hogwarts. It is the magic trace that perhaps a long time ago, someone left to help a heart desperate to find an answer to its silent prayer and, just like it should have been long ago, when the mortified Ronald Weasley opens the book, a magic wind stirs the pages of the book showing him one of them in particular, like the old friend who gives you good advice. That's why Ron reads. He reads with such intensity that his eyes devour the words written centuries ago and as he does so his gaze gets wet. Each line is like a balm on the wounds of his tormented heart while a bright smile appears on his face. Now, Ron knows.

And when he looks up, his heart is not only filled with love for the frizzy-haired know-it-all witch, but with infinite gratitude.

Gratitude for whoever put the book on the shelf at Muggle Studies. Gratitude for the wizard or witch whose essence left such a deep mark on the old magic of the school, that it reacted to his agony and gratitude to the one who wrote the words he has just read. Words that today give him the knowledge of knowing that he is not alone, that he has never been alone. That before him, millions of men and women, wizards and witches, magicians and muggles have experienced the same feelings, confusion and agony as him, with the fortune that some of them have been so daring, so privileged in their intelligence and endowed with the gift as to be able to express them in words, and guided simply by their instinct, Ron look for parchment and quill as he begins to copy furiously. . .

Hermione Granger seemed to be sleepwalking after leaving Professor McGonagall's office. The accumulation of events that had occurred in the last few hours that she had referred, to still seemed to be getting through to her.

Mr. Weasley had been attacked in the Ministry by Voldemort's snake! And he had only escaped death because of the early warning that Harry had given.

When she woke up this morning, she was surprised not to find Harry or any of the Weasleys in the dining room, which had led to an unpleasant feeling on her chest, but what had set off all her alarms was the story from Ron and Harry's roommates. She had immediately rushed to the teachers' table, when a simple gesture from McGonagall had instructed her that this was neither the place nor the time. Something that was confirmed moments later, with the appearance of Professor Umbridge demanding to know the whereabouts of the Weasley brothers.

In her mind, she could recreate the scene as if she had been there. She was about to bet that at this moment, Harry would be oblivious to the fact that he was the one who allowed Mr. Weasley with his warning. What's more, she would bet one of her O.W.L.s marks that at this same moment Harry would be blaming himself for what happened, convinced that Arthur had been attacked simply because he was the father of his best friend and so, he would be ruminating that feeling inside himself without letting anyone penetrate the shell of isolation he would have built around him, preventing anyone from making him see the absurdity of his reasoning.

Along with this feeling, her other concern was to imagine the state of Mr. Weasley and how the rest of the family would be passing the hours.

She could imagine their reactions and the visceral fear they must have felt in their hearts, when they were woken up in the middle of the night to inform them that, their father, was struggling between life and death, the victim of a Voldemort attack.

She imagined Mrs. Weasley tried to appear strong and confident so his family wouldn't break up. To the twins, whose jokes for once could not insulate them from the merciless reality of war. To Ginny in whose mind she'd be spending her ordeal in the Chamber of Secrets, to. . .

“Ron!” The moan escaped from between her lips and her whole mind was focused on him.

Hermione knew of the particular connection between Mr. Weasley and his youngest son. That one that not only covered the physical aspects that he also shared with his brother Bill, but also on other much deeper levels.

She knew that his father, in an effort to raise a progeny that seemed to have been gifted with a stomach that was as voracious as a black hole, had been forced not to devote as much time to it as he would have liked, and so, Ron had been raised basically by his mother, Percy and the twins. . .

"If the way they are used to behaving with him could be called raising," she snorted under her breath as she thought, how much of Ron's insecure and explosive personality was the responsibility of that pair of troublemakers. The point was, when Mr. Weasley was partially relieved of that burden after the emancipation of the two older sons, he had tried to make up for that loss of attention by devoting more of his scarce free time, and had taken him to watch his first quidditch match with the Cannons, from which the redhead's eternal love for the lousy team, emerged.

But Hermione had found many other similarities. Both were brave, though they tried to avoid direct confrontation, noting in common to evil or any temptation to try to abuse any situation of privilege, nevertheless they were fierce when it came to defending what they understood to be right.

Immersed in her thoughts, her legs led her to her sanctuary, that corner of the library that took her away from the usual hustle and bustle and allowed her to concentrate on her readings and the writing of her complex essays. The same corner whose window overlooked the quidditch pitch, from which, she furtively observed the training sessions of Gryffindor's team or, perhaps it would be better to say, the developments of one of the team's newest members.

As the smile insinuated itself on her face, Hermione could not help but reflect on how extraordinarily complex it was to understand Ronald Weasley.

Ron, sighed to herself. She really couldn't understand him! There seemed to be two of them and they alternated with each other in an unpredictable way.

Ron was loyal to a fault, but sometimes he seemed a little jealous of Harry's reputation. Most of the time he behaved like an insensitive fool and yet sometimes he surprised her with gestures of infinite tenderness. She could have the funniest talk with him and tell him all the places she planned to travel when she finished school, but it was mentioning Bulgaria and Ron seemed to turn into a manticore.

When he flew over the grounds of The Burrow, he seemed to be in perfect communion with his broom. She had been surprised to discover that sometimes the twins had suddenly thrown some quaffles at him and he would alter his flight to intercept them with an almost feline grace, but it was flying over the school pitch and he becoming into a nervous mess of hands and feet struggling to hold onto his broom, with an unsettling shade of green on his face.

For the most of the people, Ron was what could be defined like a lazy who was always behind in his schoolwork and unable to perform a spell correctly during class, but, the day after she helped him complete his homework or gave him a practical demonstration on it, he seemed to be able to perform it almost perfectly and, not even then! He seems to have a consistent line of behaviour at this point. Ron didn't seem to have the slightest interest in learning basic glamour spells, how transfiguring a rat into a chalice or making a potion to cure warts, and yet, he was perfectly capable during DA’s training, of transfiguring a cushion of The Room of Requirement into a solid block of solid stone to ward off a spell cast by Harry, while he counter-attacking him by throwing impedimenta spell that caused Harry to retreat ten yards.

And in spite of all that crazy, absurd, unrealistic and incomprehensible double personality she loved him. Oh my God, how she loved him! She couldn't understand it, but it was the truth and she knew it wasn't a young girl's crush, it was something else. She could see his faults and the weaknesses of his personality that he should try to correct, such as insecurity in himself and eternal self-comparison with his brothers and in spite of everything. . . there it was. The blurred sketch of the formidable man he was destined to become just by trying it from the bottom of her heart. A man who would make any woman's heart tremble like, he already did her own.

She was deep in thought about the irritating redhead when she discovered a parchment note carelessly folded in front of the seat she used to occupy in the library.

She opened it out of curiosity, recognizing the sloppy handwriting of the object of her tribulations as she began to read it. . .

"So, what's a teaspoon?"

As they moved along the lines of the writing, her eyes widened meanwhile one of her hands went over her chest in an unconscious attempt to calm the rampant galloping of her heart that seemed to have gone mad with the careless lines of writing.

“...To seem happy, sad, haughty, understated,

emboldened, fugitive, exasperated...”

It seemed that the world had been turned upside down and where once there was a mindless lout with the same sensitivity as a teaspoon, now there was someone who had been able to correctly interpret the verses her mind was slipping on. But that was inconceivable to Ron.

He... he really can't have been able to show me this, she thought as she began to reread thinking that she was being part of some kind of joke or enchantment the twins had left behind. A joke or a spell that should perhaps be called cruel because of all it was doing to feel to her.

To be fainthearted, to be bold, possessed, abrasive, tender, open, isolated, spirited, dying, dead, invigorated, loyal, treacherous, venturesome, repressed.

Not to find, without your lover, rest. To seem happy, sad, haughty, understated, emboldened, fugitive, exasperated, satisfied, offended, doubt-obsessed.

To face away from disillusionment, to swallow venom like liqueur, and quell all thoughts of gain, embracing discontent;

to believe a heaven lies within a hell, to give your soul to disillusionment; that’s love, as all who’ve tasted know too well.

“Ro... Ron!” The exclamation escaped like a whisper from her lips while her legs seemed to waver when she completed the last line. . .

“I do”

Hermione dropped into the chair at the impending failure of her legs to hold her as the crying made its way through her chest to replace her breath with an incoherent set of hiccups and sobs meanwhile she pressed the parchment to her chest.

No. Ron Weasley was not the callous wart she had said, nor was the imbecile with the emotional range of a teaspoon. No, Ron was just a normal teenager in constant confusion because of the tide of hormones circulating in his blood, the emotional overload of facing feelings whose intensity she herself knew very well, the recognition of the darkness that was approaching, and right now, the boy who feared for his father's life and who would put under a thick shell all the pain and all the terror that his heart harboured for, with an apparent indifference to avoid further anguish to his family during these times of tribulation, just as he did in the second year, when he went into the forbidden forest with Harry.

But, above all, Ron was her friend. The friend who needed her now more than ever, and as she began to write a letter to her parents explaining why she couldn't stay with them for the Christmas break, she couldn't help but notice the tremor in her hand and how her knuckles went white clutching her quill when one simple question seeped into her head:

Who- the hell- had taught Ronald Bilius Weasley what love was?

Notes: My infinite and sincere thanks and affection to @headcanonsandmore. Without their help, it would have been impossible for me to write this text in understandable English.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25219924/chapters/61129561

I would like to say, the inspiration for this work came after having a delicious chat with the author of the fic "Books" by @fightfortherightsofhouseelves ( You can find her work here in AO3).

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14771213

Obviously, the reference poem is not mine. I wish! The author is the Spanish poet Lope de Vega. Possibly the quill who has best expressed the feelings of love through its verses in universal poetry. The English translation was done by David Rosenthal.

#romione #ron/hermione #ron weasley #hermione granger #@headcanonsandmore #@fightfortherightsofhouseelves

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amnachil · 4 years

Text

The College Society Chapter 4 Part 1

And here we go !

This is the last chapter of Liam’s 1st year at the university. It’s a long one, so be ready ;)

A new pov will replace Barbara starting now, I hope you’ll like it.

Damian-Nicholas Smith Carrey Friday March 8, in France

When people said him that he could write a book about his life, he never imagined what kind of book it would be. But now, he had quite an accurate idea. He would call it : 'How to change from the most famous hunter to a stupid and naive man in love'. He had gone through step one for a long time now : have a fucking ridiculous teenage crush. And now, he started step two : be in a relationship with your so-called crush. Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey wasn't someone easily flustered. At least on paper. But when it come to the baboon, it was a true disaster. He must have left his pride back in the US.

"What do you think ? Isn't this one better ?" asked Liam.

The junior looked at him, his brows furrowed. They were doing shopping for souvenir. Well, the baboon searched little things for his siblings and Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey tagged along.

"I dunno. There are the same to me."

One was a key chain with the eiffel tower, the other with the Arc de Triomphe. Both were low quality products anyway. But the baboon finally picked one, and they went out of the store.

"Where are we going next ?" asked the blond lad. "There is plenty of time before our departure..."

"I bought everything I wanted." replied his boyfriend. "So I thought we could hum... take some time for us ?"

He blushed when he said the last word, which made Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey blush too, and then they both blushed even more. This is an endless circle of pathetic shyness. I mean, I eat ass every other day, so why am I so prude right now ?

"Fine." he agreed anyway. "Lead the way."

They honestly had a good time. It was fucking weird to enjoy this at much as sex. Maybe even more. They went for walk the length of the Seine. Liam ate a box of pastries along the way and they talked about this and that. This is the end of my damned life. I'm having a silly conversation with someone. It must be the first time since... I don't even fucking remember. They were on their way back when Liam sighed.

"I'm happy to have you Dami." he whispered.

All this romantic bullshit was so embarrassing. Do I like it or not ? Just get a grip dude ! Not only he was having a damn date with his boyfriend, but he also looked like the flustered one here ! No one must ever know it happened. The baboon took his hand.

"I'm serious you know ?" he continued. "I mean, I'm still very worried about a lot of stuff... Nate is my main concern, but I'm also still preoccupied by my father. And I can't deny my story with Kilian is giving me an headache. But I'm really happy to know you're here."

"First of all baboon, it doesn't suit you to be so serious." replied Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey while trying to regain composure. "Secondly, there is nothing in what you said that can't wait tomorrow. You've the right to enjoy a little time for yourself with someone you love."

Liam blushed. He kissed his boyfriend to thank him. Holy crap. I'm getting good at the cheesy stuff too. Well, it wasn't surprising : Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey was good at everything.

This evening on the plane, the junior felt a weird dread through his whole body. Suddenly, he stressed about his relationship. But there is nothing new... I mean, we already were a couple before. So what is different ? He quickly put his finger on it. I said to the baboon I loved him. I confessed my weakness. The hunters shall never know. Nobody in the university, for that matter. There are already too many fucking people aware of our relationship. I don't trust anyone about this.

"Hey dude."

Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey glared at the sophomore who hailed him. It was the dipshit called Matthew, Theo's heir.

"What the hell are you doing here ?" he asked. "Want to suck my prick ?"

The cocky lad (it was obvious this guy was an arrogant bastard) smiled.

"Maybe another time. I just wanted to say D.R sent me the contract regarding Barbara. She has to stay away from Colton and all his friends starting now. So you won't see her again much."

"Don't give me that crap, idiot. I don't care about the roach. You can fuck her, so go on. Isn't it what you wanted since the beginning ?"

Matthew's smile grew larger. I can definitely see the ressemblance with this shitty Theophile now.

"Just go away, moron." he concluded.

Liam Sunday March 10 back in the US

"This trip has done some damage..."

The young lad bite his lips. I knew I had indulged a lot but that's quite a change...

"Do you dislike it ?" asked Nate, while slumping on his bed.

"Not really..."

He had been ages since the last time Liam had looked properly at his reflection. He was pleased with his general body shape. His face was finely chiseled. He had strong biceps and triceps. His legs were robust but thick just like his chest. His pecs were nicely standing out. Even his back was kind of burly. But where three month ago he had a blossoming six pack, he had now a modest amount of squishy flab. His bulging waistline was easily noticeable since he was only in briefs. But he wasn't dissatisfied.

"I think I like myself." Liam whispered.

"And that's a good thing." mumbled his bestfriend, his eyes closed. "You have nothing to be ashamed about, trust me."

The chesnut lad outlined a smile. I'm glad to see Nate is talking more and more. He was also pretty sure Dami won't judge him for a little bulk.

"I mean..." resumed the other lad. "You're even well-endowed."

It made Liam blush like hell. (Not that he didn't take the compliment.) (Who could blame him ?).

The freshman expected things to improve since they came back from France. After all, Nate was getting better, Nick was actually making some progress at swimming and Dami literally confessed his feelings. It looked like the unicorns were finally powerful enough to repel the forces of evil. (After all, he had been feeding them with his dreams for months now !). So when a girl went to talk to him during his training this afternoon, he completely ignored her. (Not on purpose of course !). He was just so happy that he couldn't focus on anything. He went throught weight lifting and then legs exercises without noticing the many people who accosted him. He left campus without taking note of the lustful looks around him. I think I'm happy. The talk with Kilian had freed him. He was so glad to know the force of evils failed to take his ex-boyfriend. Anyhow, he finally went to work. As soon as he arrived, Judy came to him.

"Oh god Liam here you are ! I was so worried !" she shouted.

He blinked, not sure to have heard right. (Not that he often didn't heard people or anything...). What was she worried about ? Did he forget something important ? Something life-saving ? Maybe the aliens were gonna attack soon ?

"Liam focus ! I'm trying to have a conversation here !"

Judy clicked her fingers right under his eyes, breaking his thoughts.

"Are you alright ? Did someone do something to you ?"

"What ? No." he replied, surprised. "Why ?"

She frowned.

"Are you and Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey still a couple ?" she eventually asked.

Liam blushed. I think I'm supposed to keep it a secret but... He could trust Judy, right ?

"We are." he replied. "But what is your point ?"

"Be prudent when you're not with him okay ? I never thought I would say that one day, but I think you're safer with him around. Even if I still bet he'll hurt you in the end, like he did with everyone else."

Liam nodded. Their boss was calling them. I'm not sure I understand what she meant... However, he was certain Dami wouldn't said "I love you" so lightly. I'm special to him, I'm at least sure of that.

When he arrived at their flat tonight, Nick announced Nate wasn't there. Apparently, he had left for a talk with Archibald. It reminded Liam there were still things he wanted to improve in his life. My bestfriend and my poor family situation should be my priorities. He had no doubt the unicorns would agree on this. Besides, everything was linked to the forces of evil anyway. He grabbed a slice of pie in the fridge and joined his roommate. (Of course a pie made by Dami. Now that he had tasted his boyfriend's pastries, it was very hard to eat anything else to be honest.). (Once you visited heaven, you wouldn't come back, right ?).

"I can tell he's doing better." said Nick while staring at the screen of his console. "But I also can tell he went through something very disturbing. What do you think they're talking about so often ?"

"I don't know." admitted Liam. "But Dami assured me Archibald was a good guy so I trust him."

Of course, the chestnut lad wanted to help. And yes, I want to know what happened. (Curiosity is not a sin). (Glutonny is, but Liam didn't think much about it).

"Yeah well, until now we can say whatever he's doing is working." agreed Nick. "You should go to sleep... Wait, are you snacking ?"

Liam took a mouthful of his pie and chewed happily.

"This is just too good." he explained.

"You were sooooo against food at the beginning of the year." laughed his roommate. "I never imagined you were such a foodie."

Well... Seems like I changed my mind.

Nicolas Monday March 11 – Tuesday March 12

< Imagenius : yo what's up ? >

< TheSavior : long story short it sucked. I m better looking at my screen and playin'. Wht abut you pal ? >

< Imagenius : long story short my roommate is fuckin' loud while talkin' with her new friends. I hate people with actual life you know ? They remind me I'm a loser >

< TheSavior : won't say I know the feeling cuz I dont. >

< Imagenius : lol becuz right youre so popular >

< TheSavior : at least i hav friends outside a lame chat bruh >

< Imagenius : bruh >

< Abeautifulwomen : guys I do to. >

< Imagenius : as if a man who claims to be a girl could. Anyway Sav can you send us another pic of this cute roommate of yours ? Pretty please ? >

< Abeautifulwomen : Same. But hey Ima are ya gay ? >

< Imagenius : Joker ? >

< TheSavior : need 2g. I'll turn the chat off. I don't hav any another pic >

* Abeautifulwoman is offline *

* Imagenius is offline *

* TheSavior is offline *

Nick sighed and looked at the clock. Almost midnight. Nice. I can still play. He slowly stood up and headed to the kitchen. First of all, he needed supplies. The raven-haired boy opened the fridge and grabbed a slice of pie and a beer. Two beers. He knew Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey had cooked it for Liam but whatever. His friend wouldn't mind. Nick came back to his room and turned his console on. A sligh whine came from his roommate's bedroom. Nate was having a nightmare again, he guessed. It was happening every other day. Not like if I could just ask what's wrong. If he doesn't talk to Liam, he won't talk to me. The lad drank his beer and started to play. He was good at it at least. He finished the level rather quickly, only to notice he had already ate the pie and emptied the beers. Again, he stood up and headed to the kitchen. Not that he was hungry, but he liked to play while chewing something. This time, he opted for ice cream. And beer of course. Then, he took his playing up again. One hour later, he was done with two more level. And he had devoured the ice cream. So once more, he stood up and headed to the kitchen. No wonder I'm fat. He put his snacks on the counter and patted his belly. When he had entered college he had been a twig. But the sudden freedom allowed him to indulge without his parents constant nagging. Maybe he had enjoyed it a bit too much. When he had come back at home for the christmas holidays they weren't very happy about his changes. Himself had been surprised to discover he had already hit the freshman 15. Now this limit was beyond him. I checked when we came back from France. I weight 89 kg (196 pounds) now. Almost 200. Nick shrugged. He didn't really care. He took his snack and continued to play.

The next morning, he got ready quickly. Unlike Liam, he wasn't dozy on the morning. Well, Liam was dozy all the time so bad comparison. They left together for the first lecture. When they arrived, the first thing Nick noticed was Barbara. The girl hated him for some absurd reason. She was so obnoxious. Then, he glimpsed Rebecca. Another one he couldn't understand at all.

"And to think I've been interested in her..." he mumbled.

Liam didn't hear him. That was the good thing with this dude. I could've been screaming, he wouldn't notice. They joined Colton who greeted them warmly. Nick turned on his gameboy but he wasn't paying attention to the screen. He knew the game by heart since middleschool anyway. Instead, he looked at his friends. He often did that without them noticing. Everyone assumed he was just another nerd but he was an observant nerd. Their trip in France had took a toll on Liam waistline aswell. If I'm looking closely enough, I'm sure even Colton's ever slim frame must've softened a bit. Nick was pretty sure this one would lost it in one day or two. As for his dreamy roommate... I think he will keep it on purpose. He seems to like it. Well, both of them were handsome anyway. The raven-haired boy didn't have this luck. He heard someone laugh behind him. The person whispered something about pokemon being a lame game. Another talked about his little bathing in the Seine. Not a day I want to remember. Seriously, classes were so boring...

Noon eventually came. Nick hit the buffet of the cafeteria like a ravenous beast. He needed his daily amount of junkfood to functiun properly.

"What do you think about the math assignment ?" asked Colton. "Shall we work on it tonight ?"

"I finished it already." he revealed. "But I'm sure Liam would be glad to do it with you."

Of course, his roommate wasn't listening. He was looking away while munching on home-made cookies. And new thing, he was crooning. I know some very weird people but they can't hold a candle to him. Nick discreetly kicked him under the table.

"Uh... What ?"

"Welcome back to earth." he said. "Colton wanted to ask you something."

Nick didn't listen to their conservation. He had glimpsed Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey in the crowd. Another strange dude. Since I came here, I met too many real character. He looks pissed. I mean, more than usual. He was talking to a girl. Well, probably insulting the girl to be fair.

"... Swimming tonight ?"

The raven-haired lad turned his attention towards Colton.

"No thanks." he replied when he had guessed the question. "I'm not very... at ease when there are so many people watching me."

His friend smiled.

"Of course."

* TheSavior is online *

* Abeautifulwomen is online *

* Imagenius is online *

< Imagenius : yo ! Day was booooring. How was yours ? >

< TheSavior : Same as usual. Couldn't wait to be back in my flat >

< Abeautifulwomen : Mine was fine. I don't actually leav my flat. Lucky me ! >

< Imagenius : Btw guys there is something up in my college. I heard ppl sayin a big hunt started. Don't know what that meant but they were very excited. Apparently, the prey is one of a kind ! >

< Abeautifulwomen : Funny. Do you think they hunt human ? >

< TheSavior : I'm sure they're talkin abut a treasure hunt or smthg. We shuld play. >

< Imagenius : Nah Sav it was about a real person. They want him but idk why. Maybe he did something wrong. Beauty yu didnt hear anythg from your boss friend ? >

< Abeautifulwomen : He doesnt control every college in the country duh. Last time he called he was very very very very very angry :3 I got a dick pick thanks to that ! >

< Imagenius : You really are gay. >

< Abeautifulwomen : I told yu im a girl >

< TheSavior : Come play and stop the chichat. Wdc abut a fke hunt nor ur fke dick pick >

< Imagenius : Aye sir >

< Abeautifulwomen : Aye sir >

To be continued

Tadaa. Something is going on in the community, but what could it be ?! I can only tell you Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey will have a lot of work to do. Liam is in a happy bubble, but you know me, it won’t last long.

And welcome Nick. He has been a steady presence in the background since the beginning, so he earned his own pov. He’s on a group chat with two other people... Maybe you’ll be able to guess who they are ;)

#the college society #cs #Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey #Liam #Nick #weight gain #stuffing #mention of beer #A lot of food #Some strangers #What is happening ?#Chapter 4 #Part 1

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rockettransman · 5 years

Text

Rocketman Watch #4 Thoughts

i have so many MORE thoughts can you believe it wow here we go

(i wrote these as i watched it so they’re in order im p sure)

man, his intro monologue during group therapy is just as gripping as it was when I first watched it. And the transition to the bitch is back is so fuckin good. My palms are sweating.

There’s some commentary about forgiving and loving your inner/past child, but I don’t have the words for it at this moment. In the beginning he’s staring down, confused and scowling at his child self, but at the end, he embraces him in a way his father and loved ones never did.

Was he in therapy/rehab WHILE touring and doing music? Stomping into the room in his regalia would have me believe so. I know group therapy was a medium for storytelling. Was it just signaling the very beginning of his story, because we go through different stages through his actions and clothing changes?

Lmao I imagine it must take some pretty cool parents to allow their, like, six or seven year old child to be in this movie. He said bitch so many times.

Took me a hot second to realize the orchestra he’s conducting is playing Rocket Man. The violins are so pretty. Imagine being picked to be in the orchestra on set and getting smile up at the tiny little kid who played Elton. My heart would absolutely swell seeing a little kid being so fantastic at this really intense job.

Kit Connor did amazing in his role. He’s fifteen and he’s already done so much! Imagine growing up knowing you played Elton John as a kid. Getting to work alongside him and his husband and the dozens of incredible actors. Wowie. I’d never shut up about it.

I LOVE how 12 year old Elton is playing the piano SO HARD and is trying to rock out as hard as he can while playing classical music. The boy wanna ROCK dammit.

HE GLANCED UP THE TINIEST BIT WHEN THE MAN ASKED IF ANYONE HAD A FAG (slang for cigarette)

SATURDAY NIGHTS ALRIGHT GIVES ME CONSTANT CHILLS FROM THE START TO FINISH

WOOOW SEVENTEEN YEAR OLD ELTON IS CUTE AS HEEELLLL. The hair, glasses, and front tooth gap fit Taron so well. Goddamn I hope I look like 17 year old Elton some day.

The choreography for this number is absolutely breathtaking. You have to get that many people all in sync! We followed Elton running through the crowd and AAHHH it was a lot! The athleticism! And they did it in the rain! Wow I’m blow away.

Elton is JAMMIN in the back of the stage. It’s really sweet to see his smile and enthusiasm and his brain thinking and working.

That guy in the back peed a LOT lmao

I was wondering where thank you for all of your loving came in.

Charlie Rowe plays Ray Williams, and he also plays LEO ROTH from Red Band Society!!! The first time I watched the movie, I KNEW him from somewhere, but I couldn’t place it and it was driving me nuts. Man. RBS was a big crutch during the worst lows of my ED. Had no idea he was English.

Love to see how shy Elton was as a teenager. It’s a hot ass mood. Also, those silk scarves? Ascots? idk but they’re a LOOK.

“One frothy coffee, no froth.”

The acquaintances-to-best-friends montage set to Border Song *chefs kiss*

Rock And Roll Madonna Is A Perfect Song Send Tweet

Lmao Elton is NOT phased at all when he gets accused of being gay. He’s just like. “Nah. I’m like. Not.” Not overly defensive and surprised, like I’m sure other people would be lmaooo

STUMBLING HOME DRUNK WITH YOUR BEST FRIEND IS A MILESTONE IN TEENAGEHOOD!!!!!!!

“You are a ssSSHHIIIITT HOT piano player—”

So delicate of Bernie the way he politely denied a kiss from him. It wasn’t weird or tense at all. Just a gentle “love you, but not that way. It’s okay” Some people may not be able to handle it that well even today.

Taron’s got nice thighs. That robe & underwear getup is a nice look.

Love love LOVE hearing him experiment with Your Song on the piano to find a melody that worked.

Honestly what the shit do these songs even mean. Bernie sometimes these words don’t make any sense. Don’t worry, they still slap. “See I’ve forgotten if they’re green or they’re blue” like what

AMOREENA IS A PERFECT SONG SEND TWEET

Doug flirting with Bernie makes me snort every time. “Oh, really? That’s.. cool.”

THE TROUBADOUR OUTFIT IS GOOD AS SHIT!!!!!!!!

“NO, BERNIE. YOU ARE UNDERREACTING.”

Taron was right. The overalls do make his ass look massive.

A week ago before this movie I was sick and fuckin TIRED of crocodile rock but now I can’t get enough of it. The movie transformed a lot of old songs I was sick of for me.

Imagine being a kind of shy, nervous kid, terrified to go on stage, but two and a half minutes later the entire venue is LOSING IT because they love the jam YOU WROTE. how cool for Elton.

I want a best friend platonic cheek kiss :(

Hmmmmm I’m wondering if they used the studio recordings that went on the album for the movie or have different movie-specific recordings. Tiny Dancer sounds a teeny bit different in the movie version.

Goddamn I sure hope Taron got to keep that jacket.

“So you liked the song, then?” “Not as much as the singer” *Elton glances away in gay panic*

LMFAO John said some weird colorful words to Elton that barely made sense and he was like OH FUCK GOTTA KISS HIM GOTTA KISS HIM

I’ve talked so much about the sex scene I don’t need to go on about it here. Go search the rocketman tag on my blog for my extensive gay thoughts about it.

Now I know glasses come OFF during sex

oh oh oh I was wondering where Hercules fell in the movie. I love how the songs he’s writing or getting notoriety for is played over the transition scenes.

Elton’s hand on his hip, knowing smirk as John enters the studio. “Hello.”

Bernie is like “HELLO are we RECORDING or are y’all gonna FUCK in the CLOSET?”

*vibrating* Honky Cat Honky Cat Honky Cat Honky Cat

Damn, the flowy white button down with the red pants really is a LOOK

The gestures, staring up at each other, leaning into each other, hands on each other’s chests, damn it makes me feel some typa way. Maybe their love WAS good and fun and exciting while they rode the high of everything before it all went so so bad.

Elton searching John’s gaze while he’s talking and looking like he’s not really paying attention, just looking for a kiss on the couch.. GOD I remember the honeymoon phase of my relationships. So much fun.

His dad going “N-Not really my thing.” That was a metaphor for his SEXUALITY TOO, huh.

Damn. He went to his dad’s to come out to him and he never even got to get to that part. He was just like “....nice shoes....” and even after all this time, didn’t show any interest in his music. If he never was into what he did, how could he even talk about being gay? I’m sure during that scene there were a lot of metaphors to sexuality but I didn’t bother to think much about them.

The eyebrow quirk after his dad says “ah—no. Could you make it out to Arthur?” DAMN Elton was like .. “really. This is what’s happening? Okay. Awesome.”

“What do you have to do to get a fucking drink around here, eh?” *cuts to Elton drinking straight from a bottle*

“Elton—” “Elton!”

John saying “don’t you ever put your hands on me” when he was the one who yanked him from the phone booth AND directly after punching him... woof man. What a shitty dude.

Damn, just noticed John talking very quietly and closely to another man right before he goes on and plays Pinball Wizard. Was this the first sign of him having fun with other men when Elton was indisposed?

Pinball Wizard is absolutely intense and loud and fun, but it DOES carry the tone of “god im SO miserable” under it all. You knew Elton wasn’t having fun.

“It is next week.” Jeezus.

LMAO I just caught the “mom, you’re ON my GOWN” when he reluctantly complies to give the Anderson’s a tour.

Damn, flowy, loose dress shirts with the first few buttons undone is a LOOOOK.

How did they do the overdose scene, you think? Surely the pills Taron took had to be like. Empty. Or placebo affect drugs? Idk. He did take a big drink directly after stuffing his mouth with them. I don’t think he spit them out.

God, there is SOMETHING symbolic about how he meets his child self at the bottom of the pool. Rock bottom? Apologizing? Wishing he could be better? Telling him he’ll never be better?

OH I watched a behind the scenes cut about the pool scene, and none of it was CGI. Taron was weighted under his robe and a SCUBA diver was on standby to provide oxygen. The singing and bubbles coming out of his mouth and stuff underwater was all real.

Dying to know about the choreography around the second chorus, about the undressing and twirling and dressing and injection and handing off of the bat and stuff. That sequence was incredible.

Bennie and the Jets. Damn. It fucks. I listened to it almost the entire time on my run today. (Five miles; I felt like garbage the entire time but it was good anyway.) The scene is wild. He’s in the middle of a drug induced haze orgy. He SHOULD be having the time of his life but he’s so goddamn miserable. (Also, the juxtaposition between Chris Fleming’s Bennie and the Jets is so funny.)

Part of the problem was that John never understood Elton. But, Elton broke it off with John, not the other way around like he said it was. He wasn’t the victim in that regard. John did treat him like shit though.

Victim of Love plays right after that lmao

Renate and he aren’t even close when they do the duet to don’t let the sun go down on me. They’re separated in different rooms, mirroring literally how closed off their relationship was.

The shot with them waking up in different rooms.. damn

His shirt is so LOUD I’m going crazy

Watching Taron down that orange juice made me a little nauseous I gotta say

“Not really I’m gAy”

It’s CRAZY to watch Elton and his mom interact at the dinner scene. He gets accosted and accused of so much by his mom, claiming SHE’S the victim of his actions, making it all about HER and then he turns around and does and says the exact same shit to Bernie.

He yells “Oh, don’t be so dramatic!” at Bernie as he gets into a taxi. THE PROJECTION!! THE DEFLECTION!!!!

I know there’s only so much they can put in two hours, but I wish they showed more of Elton’s eating issues. He had bulimia for sixteen years before he got help. It’s Absolutely the Man With Anorexia in me, but seeing that even men deal with eating disorders quells the lonely aching something in me. I feel that much less alone, you know. Eating disorders aren’t a “woman’s disease.”

How do you think they did his hair? A wig adds more hair, not take it away. He didn’t get his hair cut for it did he?

Seeing Elton’s first love fall apart because John was such a selfish, heartless prick in reality makes me sad.

Elton hugs his inner child when he reconciled with everyone in his past. Goddamn. He found peace and forgiveness for himself, who he was, even after all that time.

When Elton asks him not to go, Bernie refuses, saying this is something he had to do on his own. Healing comes from within alone. No one can help you do it. People can guide you, but you have to work at it. It’s fucking lonely sometimes, but it’s so, so worth it.

I used to loathe I’m Still Standing since i heard it so much at work, but the movie changed my entire perspective on it. I love the slow build up as he exits the rehab center. You don’t get thrown into something so happy and fast paced and fun after a cathartic climax you need to drink in. And the pan to his hat with the rainbow stripe to his smile. I get chills every time. Elton feels so right and secure and happy in himself. At first I thought it was a bit cheesy, but accepting your sexuality, especially after all the hell he went through during his life, grappling with unresolved trauma and fear of abandonment, he absolutely should wear it loud and proud. It’s easy to think times are much easier now being gay, and it shouldn’t be such a big deal. Relative to 1975, it is easier. But it doesn’t mean it’s not such a rough personal thing to work through if you’ve been spit on and resented all your life. Being gay, coming out, and accepting and being comfortable with that fact must’ve been such a HUGE milestone in Elton’s recovery and self-esteem.

Love me again after I’m still standing is perfect. The credits make me tear up every time. Jeez. What a good movie. What a good movie. Hit me up if you wanna talk about Rocketman because I absolutely will with you.

#like if you read pls #noah.txt #rocketman #elton john #rocket man #bernie taupin #richard madden #john reid

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ilovemygaydad · 5 years

Text

No One [part 2]

from the friends in dark places au

pairing: pining logince, mentions of past toxic roman/oc

WARNINGS: crying, anxiety, alcohol usage, people get drunk, making out, kissing, PTSD, coming out, internalized transphobia, swearing, and mentions of: non-consentual sex, sexual assault, date rape drugs, drug usage, implied underage sex, blackmail (in the form of cp), transphobia, transphobic slurs, forced coming out, misgendering, food mentions, rebellious behavior, insensitive comments, physical assault, and possibly something else

tag list: @hufflepuffgirl01 @cocobearthe4th @cas-is-a-hunter @band-be-boss-blog @theunoriginaldaisy

a/n: jsyk, it’s totally okay to ask for a modified chapter if you need it or if i need to add tags! i get it, and it’s no problem for me to quick edit a chapter or whatever :) also, feel free to send requests or questions that you have!

a/n 2: hey so this story is super dark and shitty, so please read with caution! i’m happy to summarize for anyone who needs it!!!

first of main plot - companions

part one of no one

consider buying me a coffee (please)

September 23, 2015

Roman shut his locker door, clicking the lock closed, and turned to walk to his first block class. He only made it a few feet before someone called his name.

“Roman! Hey, wait up!” He turned and found Audrey, the student council president, running towards him. She handed him a small card and smiled. “You’re invited to my homecoming after-party. I hope you’ll be there.” With a wink, she was gone.

As much as Roman feigned popularity, he never actually got invited to parties. But he was excited! Other than cast parties, it would be his first high school party, for goodness sake! His eyes scanned the invitation and immediately saw “One additional person allowed with each guest.” Roman weaved through the hallway--his short stature payed off for once--and made his way to Logan’s first class.

“Lo! I got invited to a party!” Ro whisper yelled to Logan. The other teen, who was engrossed in a book, nodded.

“That’s wonderful, Roman. And why are you telling me about this?”

Roman groaned and snatched the book from his friend. “Because I want you to come with me!”

Logan looked up at his, quirking his eyebrow. “You want me to accompany you to a party? Are you serious? Roman, you know that it isn’t nice to play practical jokes on your friends.”

“Of course I’m serious!” Roman sighed in exasperation. “I know it’s not really your thing, but Patton’s busy on Homecoming night, and I don’t want to go alone! Pleaaaaassseeeeeeeeeeee?” The one thing that could truly get Logan to bend was Roman’s whining voice. Well, that and when Roman climbed on Logan’s 5’11” frame with monkey-like skills.

“Fine. Just stop that incessant noise making! I’m assuming that normal curfew applies and that we’re going to need a ride?” Logan put his space bookmark in his book—Alice in Wonderland; go figure—and put his full attention on his friend.

“Yeah. Would your mom be okay with it?” Roman bounced excitedly on the balls of his feet. He really wanted to go to this party.

“I’ll ask when I get home.” The two minute warning bell rang, and Logan gestured to the door. “You might want to leave now, Roman. Word History is rather far away.”

---

October 3, 2015

The whole inviting-Logan-to-the-party thing definitely hadn’t been an excuse to spend a whole day with him. Of course not. That would be a ridiculous idea…

Logan ended up wearing a black button up, black slacks, and a light blue tie. It was hardly different from his everyday wear, but it was slightly more snazzy. Roman wore a white button up and a red tie, which he claimed was what a prince would wear, and he’d dusted some pretty white highlighter on his cheekbones. It was subtle enough to pass as natural, but enhanced his features just enough to make Roman excited.

At six pm exactly, the two teens made their way down the stairs, met with an eager Mrs. Patrick. “You boys just look so nice! Oh, I’m so proud of you, Roman! You’ve come so far!”

Roman laughed nervously at her nearly outing him, but gave his mother a big hug. “Yeah, Mom. I have.” He chose to ignore the way that his binder felt so tight around his chest.

For most of the Homecoming dance, Roman danced with assorted friends from Drama, occasionally dragging Logan into the fray. As soon as the dance ended, Roman changed into some more casual clothes for the party (Logan had refused to bring any extras for himself), and they waited for Mrs. Christiansen to pick them up.

Logan’s mom made sure to outline what the plan was. They’d be dropped off at the party at 10:30, have three hours to do whatever it is that kids do at parties as long as it’s legal, and then they’d be picked up between 1:30 and 2:00. Which, honestly, was far more time than Roman had thought that they would get. Mrs. Christiansen, being a doctor, was always worrying about Logan becoming one of the horrific ER cases of teenagers in drunk driving accidents.

Once they’d arrived, Roman practically threw himself out of the car. His sneakers hit the sidewalk with a quiet thump, and Logan’s clacking shoes followed suit. They made their way to the door and knocked. A wave of sound hit them as soon as the door opened. Booming bass and piercing treble accosted their ears, and suddenly Roman was glad he had brought ear plugs for himself and Logan.

“Roman!” Audrey slurred, clearly already drunk. “And your sexy friend. Glad you two could make it.”

“Yeah…” Roman hesitated. They stood awkwardly for a moment before Audrey finally moved out of the way to make room for them to squeeze their way in. Logan dodged some sort of groping motion from Audrey, looking for safety in Roman. They might have gotten themselves a tad bit in over their heads.

The duo sat on the stairs for a few minutes before Roman heard a song he enjoyed, jumping into the pool of dancing bodies. Logan sighed, tapping at his phone absently. He had expected something like this to happen, but he didn’t want to leave Roman alone at a party. He didn’t trust people like Patton did.

Roman, on the other hand, grabbed a cup from a table of snacks and drank. The drink stung as it went down, but it settled nicely and gave him a bit of warmth on the frigid October night. He had no idea what he was drinking, but he continued to down the entire cup within the next five minutes.

---

Less than an hour later, Roman’s head felt completely clear as he stumbled through the crowd. Logan observed his friend drunkenly flirting with a lamp, which was quite funny, but it worried him slightly. He hadn’t even seen Roman drinking, and he was supposed to be protecting Roman. Logan sighed and looked back at his phone. Roman would be fine. He always was.

Roman sat in an armchair at the corner of the living room. He was happy and free and everything just felt right.

A boy that he didn’t recognize approached him, shouting over the loud music, “You look really great tonight!”

“Thanks!” Roman shouted back, ignoring the light blush dusting his cheeks. “What’s your name?”

“Cal! And you are?”

“Roman!”

“Well, Roman,” Cal started with a charming smile. “Would you like to dance with me?”

Roman nodded, and suddenly, they were dancing. He could feel the heat from Cal’s body radiating through his thin t-shirt. At any other time, Ro would be afraid of what other people were thinking, but everyone at the party was drunk out of their minds. Not a single person would pay mind to the gay kid dancing with a random guy at a party.

At some point, Roman had been led back to the chair he’d been sitting in just a bit ago. He felt his back press against the wall, and he glanced up to see Cal gazing hungrily at him. He should have felt fear; he knew that look isn’t anything good, but he didn’t care. Roman threw all his worries behind him as he reached up and kissed Cal.

---

Logan nearly had dozed off on the stairs when he saw a flash of red cross the room. He focused in on the smudge of color and saw Roman being led to a secluded corner of the room by a stranger. Logan jumped up; his protective instincts were kicking in. He’d been so stupid to think that Roman could handle himself while drunk. He knew the effects that alcohol could have on people, and he should have intervened when he saw Roman flirting with a fucking lamp!

Weaving his way through the mass of people, Logan mumbled quick apologies to the couples “dancing” and pushed forward. Finally, he reached where Roman was, but the sight Logan saw froze him in place.

Roman’s hands were casually slung around the stranger’s neck, and the two were making out with passion. The stranger's hands snaked their way up Roman’s shirt, touching the skin of his lower back. The stranger made a move to go in the direction of the stairs, and that’s what finally forced Logan out of his trance.

Anger, worry, and another mystery feeling bubbled up in Logan’s chest. He pushed the stranger away and took Roman by the hand, dragging his small friend up the stairs and into the first bathroom that he could find. He guided Roman in, turning to lock the door behind them, before facing his friend, who was now sitting cross legged on the floor and playing with the hem of his pants.

“Roman, what were you thinking? You don’t even know that guy! He could—and probably did—have malicious intent!” Logan scolded worriedly, kneeling down before Roman. He took his friend into his arms and nearly squeezed the life out of him.

Roman spoke up as soon as Logan let go. “I wasn’t thinking… I was just so caught up in the fact that someone liked me. It was stupid.” Tears began to trail down Ro’s face, staining his delicate features with a harsh, wet glare. “You’re just so good to me, Logan! And I’ve done nothing but hurt you! I’m a terrible friend.” Roman was practically wailing, throwing his head into his hands.

“What? Roman, that’s not—“

“I’ve been lying to you—and Pat, for fuck’s sake—since we met. I just didn’t want to lose you like I lost everyone else! I’m just… I’m a girl.” Logan stayed completely silent, not wanting to interrupt whatever his friend was saying. Ro shook his head and corrected himself. “No, that’s not right. I was born a girl.”

After processing the information for a few moments, Logan spoke. “You’re transgender, then?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m trans. I started transitioning just before I moved to Westview. The kids at my school bullied me for ‘pretending’ to be a boy, and it just got to be too much for me to handle. We moved here, and I had a completely fresh start. I didn’t have to tell anyone that I was a boy now, just that I was a boy.”

Tick.

“I didn’t want to lose you two, or worse… Or…” Roman’s words broke into a sob, and Logan reached to grab Ro’s hand as reassurance. “Just before freshman year, one of the boys at my summer camp sexually assaulted me.” Logan opened his mouth, but he was cut off immediately. “I know that you know, but you don’t know the full story. I always knew who assaulted me, but I lied and told the counselors and the police that I had no idea who it could be. They gave up looking after a while. The boy who assaulted me found out I was trans after the first time, and he blackmailed me with it. He used it to make me feign his innocence and to… He made me have sex with him throughout the rest of the summer. I never wanted to, but I'd convinced myself that it was for the best. I didn’t want to have to deal with the rejection of everyone finding out I was trans. He is the prime example of what I didn’t want to happen, and it solidified my case for not telling you guys.

“I look at my body in the mirror and want to throw up because I remember all the terrible things I’ve done. I hate myself.”

Logan wiped at the tears running down his face. He had never even imagined all the pain that Roman had gone through; it had all been hidden so well. He could have been here for Roman, helping him through his emotional struggles, yet he had been completely useless. And it was made even worse with the knowledge that Roman wouldn’t be saying any of this except for the fact that he was drunk.

“Roman, I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry that you had to live through all of that. I’m an idiot for not seeing the signs,” Lo whispered, tracing circles in the back of Roman’s hand with his thumb.

“I hid it well. I don’t have all those acting awards for nothing, Lo.” Roman’s laugh echoed in the tiled space. It was a ruse, for sure, and it cracked down like the ceramic in the shower. Ro finally let all of his emotions out, ones that he’d kept in for years and years. The two friends embraced once more until Roman’s sobs ceased, and he was gently sleeping on Logan’s shoulder.

Logan pulled out his phone. Shit. His mom had been waiting for nearly ten minutes. He shot her a quick text, and scooped Roman up into his arms. He quickly and carefully made his way down the stairs and through the mob of people, quickly grabbing his and Roman’s jackets before running outside. His mom was, thankfully, parked right outside, and he easily was able to dump Roman in the back seat and slide in next to him.

Mrs. Christiansen gave Logan a worried look. “Don’t worry, Mom. Ro just had a panic attack, and he fell asleep due to emotional exhaustion. He’ll be fine by morning.” She gave up trying to find out more and drove them back to the safety of the Christiansen household.

---

May, 2017 [sometime in the weeks following prom]

“Roman, you’ve been putting it off for weeks now. Virgil isn’t going to make fun of you for being trans,” Logan coaxed, pushing his boyfriend toward Patton’s house. “And if he does, I’ll personally kick his ass.”

“I just don’t want to risk it, babe. What if he doesn’t say anything but he gives me The Look? What do I do then? This could ruin his and Patton’s relationship, and he’s finally found someone that he’s happy with! I don’t want to do that to him, Lo!” Roman pleaded, trying to turn back towards the car.

But Logan had already thought this through. The front door swung open, and Virgil stepped into the warm spring air. “You wanted to tell me something, Knight in Shining Converse?”

Roman froze, slowly turning to face the emo disaster on the front stoop. “Uh… Yeah?”

“What’s up?” Virgil asked calmly, noticing the tension built up in Roman and acting accordingly.

“I’m, uh… transgender… So, like, I was born a girl, and now I’m a boy.” Roman stuttered his way through the explanation, knowing that it was probably unnecessary, but not really able to get out of it.

“Cool. Is that all you guys wanted? Cause Patton and I are watching Big Hero 6, and I kinda want to get back to it. You guys are welcome to join us, too.” Virgil sounded a bit ticked off, but it was pretty obvious that he just wanted to watch his movie.

Roman smiled gently. “That would be fantastic.”

#sanders sides fic #moxiety #logince #m writes things #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders

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acsversace-news · 6 years

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Finn Wittrock received his second Emmy nomination this year for playing Jeff Trail, victim of serial killer Andrew Cunanan in “The Assassination of Gianni Versace.” Wittrock was previously nominated in this same category of Best Movie/Limited Series Supporting Actor category for his twisted role as Dandy in “American Horror Story: Freak Show” in 2015.

Wittrock recently spoke with Gold Derby contributing writer Charles Brightabout playing Jeff and all of his “contradictions,” what it’s like to work with Ryan Murphy and the funny way he learned about his Emmy nomination. Watch the exclusive web chat above and read the complete interview transcript below.

Gold Derby: Finn Wittrock, you just received an Emmy nomination for your work in “The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story.” What was your reaction to that when you read the episode script that you submitted, “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell”? What was your reaction to that?

Finn Wittrock: I continued to be surprised by the writing of that show. Really though, Tom Rob Smith, who wrote all of the episodes, continued to surprise me in the direction that it went. I knew a little bit about where they were gonna go with it but I didn’t quite expect the entire episode would follow Jeff’s own little arc, sort of mini arc. I really admired the way that he crafted these episodes in terms of having the basic through line of Cunanan and [Gianni] Versace and these offshoots based on sometimes the victims, at the end you follow the father figure, so each character gets their own self-contained episode and then that works its way back into the thing. I was very impressed by that. I was very surprised and happy how much time they took addressing Jeff’s own coming to terms with his identity and his sexuality and how complicated and contradictory it was for him to come out as a gay man and come out against a policy, “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell,” which he disagreed with, but he was a fundamentally very patriotic, very loving of the military kind of upright, responsible young man. All those contradictions. I think often I’m looking for how many contradictions can we fit into one person. That just excites me and so, all those elements were there.

GD: I like that you mentioned how it was structured, because we first saw your character in the previous episode but we only saw you for like two minutes and then you’re bludgeoned to death.

FW: Yeah, my friends called me and they were like, “Man, you were filming that for so many months. That’s it? Just for those two scenes and then you were dead? What were you doing all that time?” I’m like, “Guys, it works backwards. Figure it out.”

GD: What was also brilliant about that was in watching the next episode, the “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” episode, it just made everything in that episode all the more tragic, ‘cause in a way, Cunanan was this life preserver for Jeff but it was also his undoing, unfortunately. It just encapsulated the tragedy of it so much.

FW: Yeah, that is what tragedy is, knowing that the ending is gonna be terrible and yet being along for the ride and still hoping illogically that things will turn out differently. You can watch “Romeo and Juliet” as much as you want and if it’s well done… I mean they tell you at the very beginning, “Star-crossed lovers who die at the end.” The prologue says that, and still, if it’s well done production, you’re watching on pins and needles, like hopefully this time they’ll wake up and find each other. So I think that playing with that element of knowing what the end is, knowing it’s gonna end in tragedy, it does something specific to us as an audience, I think. It kind of engages us, hopefully, in a different kind of way.

GD: So in the lead-up to shooting your scenes for this series, did you speak with anyone who had lived through “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” in the military?

FW: I talked to some people who had been in the Navy at that time. We had a really good Navy advisor. It’s a sensitive subject. People don’t open up that easily. But the fodder that I really got was there’s that interview in the episode, my face is in shadow and then talking about the policy. That’s a very, very accurate reenactment of a real interview that I got to see that I had on-hand on my phone all the time to reference continuously throughout the shoot, which is really him trying to be anonymous, having this very, very honest, in-depth conversation with this reporter for the show “48 Hours,” I believe. So that was my biggest go-to in terms of character reference research.

GD: What was also really magnificent about it was the dynamic between you and Darren Criss as Cunanan, especially when it all just comes to a head, I don’t know if it’s the final scene but right towards the end with you just accosting him in your apartment. What was it like to film that? What was that dynamic like between you two?

FW: That was a long day. After that day was done it was like, “Clocked.” I feel like we put in a good day’s work. We played with it a lot. We did a lot of different variations in terms of how heightened and how confrontational it was versus some versions being more wanting to avoid it, wanting to be a little more self-torture, and ultimately the thing that was working was restraining, restraining, restraining and then finding a moment to just explode and go at each other. Yeah, no holds barred, take off the boxing gloves. Like all of working with Darren and Daniel Minahan, who directed the episode, it was a lot of great experimentation. A lot of finding as we went. There wasn’t really a pre-planned way that they wanted it to go. We were exploring new territory, really, finding it.

GD: Did it ever get you that when you realize you’re acting in something, showing how shitty things were for gay people, that was only 20 years ago? Is that a very startling thing to realize?

FW: Yeah, definitely it is, and how recent it was and yet how alien it seems to my own way I live my life. I have so many openly gay friends, but I also know lots of older gay people who really responded to that, people who lived through that period and maybe now are out but at the time weren’t. That really affected people. I had real heart to hearts with some people who saw that later and were like, “That was my life.” But yeah, it is crazy. It’s crazy how far we’ve come and how not far also.

GD: One of the other things that I thought was so interesting about this is that for a lot of the Cunanan story, there’s just a lot of stuff that we just don’t know for sure. A lot of stuff, even in the Maureen Orth book that the series is based on, some of it is kind of just filling in blanks and I was wondering, was that weird to try to portray something of which there’s a lot we don’t know about?

FW: We know where things ended and we know whether things began but a lot of the stuff behind closed doors, no one knows what really happened, ‘cause most of the people who were there are dead now. I think like anything, it’s historical fiction. These events really happened but we have to use artistic liberty to fill in all the blanks and that’s really where the emotional arc comes through. History has given us the exoskeleton, and so it’s your job as an actor and the writer and the creative team to fill in the blanks to bring that to life. It’s like that old saying about never let truth get in the way of a good story.

GD: It’s very true. So this is actually the third time that you’ve worked on a Ryan Murphy project. You were of course on “American Horror Story: Freak Show,” Season 4. Actually, I think it’s the fourth time you’ve worked with Murphy.

FW: Technically it’s the fifth ‘cause I did his movie “The Normal Heart” before that on HBO.

GD: I was counting that. I have “Freak Show,” “Hotel,” “Normal Heart” because oh god, I’ll never forget watching your scene with my roommate. We were a wreck at the end of that. And this one. What was the other one?

FW: Oh, well it’s almost unfair to say ‘cause I’m unrecognizable in my one episode of “Roanoke,” “American Horror Story.” Jether was my name. I died pretty quickly but I was one of the inbred hillbilly monsters and it’s all shot in grainy, like it’s shot on cellphone, so even if you could see my face, you probably couldn’t tell ‘cause I also had this crazy prosthetic stuff. But yeah, technically I was in “Roanoke.”

GD: You’ve worked on so many projects that have been associated with Ryan Murphy. What does he bring to a project that makes him so desirable to work with?

FW: A lot of things. The first thing is you know that you’re gonna work with great people, on-camera, off-camera. He has such an amazing repertory of actors that you’re gonna get to do some really juicy stuff with. That’s already fulfilling. Also, he’s gonna challenge you. You know he’s gonna challenge you in a way that is specific to you. He knows what you’ve done before and he’s gonna find something that sort of goes in the polar opposite direction of that, to stretch your actor muscles. And also there’s the fact that I feel like whatever he does generally is talking about in some way some kind of zeitgeist, some kind of cultural conversation that we’re having. Even “Freak Show” is really about, the freaks are any ostracized group of people. Be that for race or sexual orientation or what have you. Even the stuff that seems totally off the wall and bonkers, somehow there’s always some element of something that you find very current and alive and on the pulse of right now. It just always seems to affect people. That’s why these shows are so freakin’ popular (laughs).

GD: You brought up all these amazing people through the Ryan Murphy projects that you’ve gotten to work with. Is there any one person that you were most excited or most intimated to do scenes with?

FW: I’ve gotten pretty lucky. I had a lot of fun stuff to do with Sarah Paulsonthat first year, both of her heads. And it was like, I really like Bette but Dot was such a bitch (laughs). Oh god, not Dot again! No, she was really astounding in that. I obviously had fun working with Lady Gaga. That was sort of a pinch me, is this real life situation. She was really just such a brave, impressive force and it’s been cool to get into her sphere a little bit. I only had one scene with Jessica Lange but I want more. That was fun. Kathy Bateshas been an amazing person to work with and is also an incredible philanthropist in her own life. I’ve just been lucky.

GD: It’s one of those things where you look back and you’re like, “Wow, I’ve been a part of all of this.”

FW: “This really happened? Is this real life?”

GD: As I said before, you got nominated for your second Emmy this year, this one for “Crime Story.” You were nominated for “Freak Show” four years ago, I believe. What was nomination morning like for you, finding out that you had gotten nominated again?

FW: This was disbelief. Sarah, my wife, read me the list and I was like, “You must be looking at the cast list.” And she’s like, “No, this is the list!” It was truly an out of the blue, random Wednesday morning, like, “Oh, my life has changed now than it was five seconds ago.”

GD: So it wasn’t your agent or anyone calling you? It was your wife who was looking at the nominations and she said, “Hey look at this”?

FW: Yeah. I was making coffee, it was kind of early. It’s 8 a.m. and that happens, it was like, “What are you talking about?” Then suddenly yeah, my phone starts to vibrate for the rest of the day. It’s funny the way they do it, ‘cause they announce some of them live but then they put the rest up online. Television Academy, I love you, obviously, but the website could use a little guiding help. You have to click to a whole lot of things to find out what the nominees are. It really takes a second. They don’t make it easy for you.

GD: This year was weird because usually right after the nominations come out, you can go and find the link of the PDF of the whole 7,000 pages of all the different categories that they have, but this year it took a while. For some reason there was something going on.

FW: (knocks on computer) “Give me my trophy!”

GD: I almost threw a computer out a window but then I remembered that I was at a place of work and then I was like, “Yeah, that’s probably not good.”

FW: You need some young, tech-savvy people to come in.

GD: One other question. What else do you have coming up down the road? We were talking before we started this about some of your theater work. Do you have any theater work that’s coming up on the horizon?

FW: No plays on the new horizon. Last year I spent about seven months in New York. I did two plays back to back. I did “Othello” with Daniel Craig and David Oyelowo, which was amazing, and then I did “The Glass Menagerie” on Broadway with Sally Field. I really got the theater bug well exercised, if that makes sense. No plays that I know of, although I’m always hungry to do a play. There’s a movie called “Judy” which will be out next year, about Judy Garland that I’m in. Renée Zellweger’s playing her and I think it’s gonna be really cool.

GD: Oh, I know a lot of people are gonna be waiting for that one.

FW: I know. For better or for worse, right?

GD: Exactly.

FW: There’s a movie coming out soon called “If Beale Street Could Talk,” which is Barry Jenkins’ next film, which I have a part in, which is beautiful. That’s gonna be really cool. There’s also this movie called “Semper Fi,” this military film that I did. I think that’ll come out sometime soon. So a lot of things in the pipeline. There’s a couple smaller movies, some interesting Indies that I did that are making the festival circuit right now, too. We’ll see if they come to a theater near you, or a screen near you.

GD: We’re definitely hoping. Finn, I can’t thank you enough for this. We wish you all the best on Emmy night. Thanks so much for joining us.

FW: Thank you so much.

#acs versace #finn wittrock #gold derby #interview #article #september 2018

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ayearofpike · 6 years

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The Last Vampire 4: Phantom

Pocket Books, 1996 179 pages, 20 chapters + epilogue ISBN 0-671-55030-6 LOC: CPB Box no. 357 vol. 4 OCLC: 34651186 Released May 28, 1996 (per B&N)

Sita wakes up from her miraculous transformation ready to start a new life as a human. Even more miraculous: Ray, the resurrection of her long-passed husband, has somehow survived his terrible demise and is human again as well. She’s excited to be normal with him, renting a house, making friends, and having a baby. Only the baby progresses at a supernormal rate, and has the same powers and appetites Sita had as a vampire. They’ll soon find out she’s much more than that, though.

This was a storyline that I’d totally forgotten about until I read the back-of-the-book copy. Sita has a baby! The baby is a monster! The book ends on a realistic cliffhanger! Only reading all of these in one shot do I realize that here’s your goddamn Cold One II: Seedling right here. I mean, look at it: the lady is impregnated by an undead monster and gives birth to a precocious and beautiful dark-haired child named after the Hindu goddess of death, and what happens next? Pike claims he’s not going to tell us, but Last Vampire 4 and 5 got you, G.

Also, I neglected to mention this in the last entry, but you probably noticed: Not only have they done away with the horrible die-cut letters on the covers, but now they’re not even faking it anymore. I imagine that the cover artist (and maybe Pike too) got annoyed that they were hiding most of the artwork in an inside flap that people weren’t even inclined to flip to now that it didn’t peek through the letters. (The Lost Mind and The Visitor both had actual full cover art, hidden on another piece of cover stock just inside the front cover, with what would have previously peeked through printed on the letters. Maybe I should go back and shoot those, plus the ones inside the die-cut covers, for this blog. Let me try to catch up with the reading first, though.)

The story itself starts right where the last one left off, as has become par for the course in TLV so far. Yeah, dig it: since Sita first murdered a detective in Oregon, maybe six weeks have passed up to the beginning of this story. She’s awakened from her transformation nap by pounding on the door, along with a familiar sounding voice that is not Seymour (the only one living who is supposed to know who and where she is). She doesn’t answer, and the knocker goes away, but a little while later Seymour does show up. He’s bummed that Sita has given up her immortality, but excited at what it means that she’s a human about his age. Like, maybe she won’t make him a vampire, but maybe now they’ll get down. It’s not that far-fetched a wish, I guess, considering she is more truthful and thorough in talking to him than she is anyone else (and probably more than anyone else Seymour knows), but still. Dude.

They have to get out of Dodge, though, because Sita doesn’t know who’s still alive and trying to reach her. They drive to LA and set up in a hotel, and after Seymour falls asleep Sita goes for one of her customary nighttime walks. As per usual, she gets accosted by some scum of the earth who plan to rape and kill her, and as per usual she lets them catch her. Only — oh yeah! She doesn’t have her vampire powers and abilities anymore. What she does have is a pistol, and she uses it to cap both would-be attackers in the head. How is this better than crushing skulls and drinking blood? Sita doesn’t think it is. In fact, she has a breakdown walking back to the hotel and has to take a break in a coffee shop to try to get her wits.

And all of a sudden Ray walks in. How is this possible? Last time we saw Ray, he was lighting a stream of gasoline on fire — a stream that was pouring directly on him. He tells Sita that in the time between the explosion and when she murdered New Vampire, the latter had gathered up the scattered pieces of Ray and reassembled them, trying to bring him back to life by feeding him blood. Sounds fake, seeing as New Vampire would have only had two days to do this, yet here is Ray. He also tells Sita that it was him knocking on the door in Vegas, and after she left he went in and found the crystal setup and laid in it himself, so now he’s human again too. She tells him what just happened, and obviously he wants to get her out and clear of the area. But what about Seymour? Sita’s already told him to go home, and Ray says if she just bails maybe he’ll get the point.

So she gathers up her crap without waking him and goes with Ray all the way to ... Whitter. Yeah, almost 30 miles from where she killed two guys, that should be far enough, right? They build their normal life together, and it’s two months later that Sita discovers she’s pregnant. She meets another heavily pregnant woman while shopping for baby books, a single mom-to-be who works in a nearby Catholic church for whom Sita finds an instant affinity. But they can’t hang out too much right away, because Sita’s pregnancy goes way faster than it should. In fact, even though she wasn’t showing at all when they met in the bookstore, she has a full-term baby five days later, a baby with an unusual calmness and coldness. Sita names her Kalika without even thinking about it: “she who destroys.”

The baby grows fast, too. Two days later, she’s a year mature and biting open Sita’s nipples to drink blood instead of milk. Looks like two ex-vampires couldn’t help but give birth to a vampire after all. It’s not too long before Sita can’t handle it, and they’re not sure what to do. Ray suggests that Sita go lure in a source of food with her feminine wiles. Which is weird to her, because a) he was always the squeamish one about drinking blood and b) he flat-out refuses to even try to get someone himself. So Sita ends up at a nearby park, where she cons one of the basketball players into following her home and inside on the pretense that her violent ex sometimes breaks in. Once she’s got him inside, it’s a small matter to knock him out and tie him up, even though that fucker Ray still doesn’t show up to help.

She has to go out to get supplies to drain blood for Kalika, as it’s not so easy as ripping open a vein and healing it with a drop of her own blood anymore. While she’s out, she calls Seymour, who is pissed about being ditched but still listens as she tells him what’s been happening. He’s not sold on the ethical justification going on — is her child’s life, a potentially destructive new force, worth Sita messing with her new human karma to hunt food? Only problem: a daughter is the one thing in the world that Sita has wanted since she was taken from hers five thousand years ago, and she can’t just let her die. So they’re left at an impasse, and Sita goes home to drain a cup of B-Baller’s blood for Kalika, who chugs it and immediately wants more.

She has to leave the house after feeding the baby, but where to go? She first prays to Krishna at the spot where she sunk the original vampire in the ocean, then ends up at the Catholic church to pray some more. Her buddy shows up and accepts that Sita can’t talk about her problem right now, but promises to be an ear when she’s ready. Then she leaves, and Sita curls up in a pew, where she has the purple-spaceship dream again. This time Krishna tells her a parable of only doing what we’re asked by God, and not feeling like we have to sacrifice everything of ourselves to feel like we’re properly giving to our faith.

Three more days pass, and Kalika is now basically five. She wants to go find another source of food, as B-Baller is weaker by the day and not able to fully sate her hunger. She tells Sita to go pick up a dude at a nightclub and she’ll tag along in the backseat and do what needs to be done. At the club, she meets a lawyer who invites her back to his place, only when she gets there she smells the decay of death. Obviously this dude has had other victims. They get into a scrap, but Sita left her gun in the car and has to rely on her martial arts, which don’t help when Not-Laywer pulls his own gun and gains the upper hand. Lucky for Sita, Kalika walks in right at this moment, and totally ruins Not-Lawyer’s shit.

So now Kalika can hunt her own food, and five more days pass, by which time she’s the same apparent age as Sita (as in, they both look about twenty, not five thousand). So Sita wants to let B-Baller go, but she’s afraid he’s going to run straight to the cops. Neither Kalika nor Ray wants to leave where they are, as they are weirdly invested in New Friend’s coming baby. Ray says she should just kill B-Baller, which is more proof that whatever has made him alive now has drastically changed who he is. Conveniently, a pair of cops show up right at this moment looking for B-Baller, on a tip that he was seen here last. As Sita is trying to figure out how to non-suspiciously turn them away, Kalika says she saw him nearby and offers to show the cops where. And that’s two more bodies that will never be found.

The phone rings just then, and it’s New Friend, in serious labor. Sita takes her to a fancy hospital rather than the nearby one, I guess trying to hide the baby as much as possible, and eight hours later a boy is born — a boy with lots of hair and a peaceful demeanor and no name, as New Friend has never thought of one and doesn’t seem to think this is weird. And then! Sita. Calls. Home. If she’s trying to hide, she sure is doing a shitty job of it. Kalika answers and demands to know where the baby is. Sita says no, so Kalika gives the phone to B-Baller and lets Sita listen as she gruesomely murders him. Like this is going to make Sita more inclined to introduce Kalika to a BABY. But then! Kalika puts Seymour on the phone. What the fuck is Seymour doing here? Apparently Kalika called him and said he needed to come right away. This is an important person in Sita’s world, so she makes a deal: she’ll bring the baby to the end of Santa Monica Pier in 24 hours.

Obviously Sita has no intention of doing this. She does get the baby out of the nursery, and while the nurse’s back is turned she swipes his blood sample. Then she takes him to New Friend and asks for the circumstances of her friend’s pregnancy, because all signs are pointing to this not being a normal baby. It seems that New Friend was out praying in the desert one night, when a bright blue light shot out of the sky and overwhelmed all her senses until she blacked out and woke up in the morning, still in the desert, untouched but feeing larger. A god? Maybe, but it’s becoming more crucial that New Friend become scarce. Sita tells her to take the baby and a stack of money and run. Sita doesn’t want to know where they’re going, but she gives New Friend a phone number to call in a month. Meanwhile, she has to figure out how to face Kalika.

What if she was a vampire again? That’s stupid, there’s no more vampires. But there is an ice-cream truck around the block from the warehouse she burned down a couple months ago, one where Original Vampire was held captive and tortured. Miraculously, it’s still there, and a homeless dude has kept it running and freezing, seemingly knowing she was coming back for it. There’s a nice big glob of frozen blood just inside the door, and she sticks it in a thermos and drives back to Vegas, planning to use the old alchemist’s setup to reverse her transformation and be able to fight again.

Guess who followed her, though? It’s Ray! Although he didn’t so much “follow her” as he has “been a product of her human imagination and a wish-fulfillment fantasy.” Yep — Krishna’s teachings and concerns about being able to give up desires as illusion have manifested in this ghost that Sita has been so convinced is her love. But what is Kalika then? Apparently she did bang the alchemist that night in her hotel room (Pike does hint at this after all in TLV3 — I thought he specifically excluded it), and his lingering humanity mixed with what he got of her vampirism was enough to create the fetus. But now Sita knows that Ray isn’t what she wants, and she has to banish her illusion. She has to kill him. So he hands her a knife, and she stabs him through the heart, and there’s gore and anguish and screaming and then he’s gone, along with any blood, any body, any trace of him having been there.

There’s an unnecessary chapter where Sita tells B-Baller’s parents about his fate, but then we learn more about her transformation. Specifically: it worked, better than she could have expected. Now that she’s operating from purely the blood aura of Original Vampire, she’s even stronger and more aware than before. But beyond that — maybe because she impulsively dripped in a couple drops of the baby’s blood — she feels like fortune will turn things her way. Let’s find out.

She finds Seymour and Kalika at the pier and talk about the nature and necessity of killing. To Kalika, it doesn’t matter, because the soul will be reborn until it’s ready to reach nirvana. Sita doesn’t see it that way: if there’s no reason to kill, it’s cruel, never mind the ultimate end for the soul in question. The ideals are at odds, so Sita knows she has to act. She darts forward to kick her daughter into submission, but Kalika grabs Sita’s foot and breaks her ankle like nothing. Then she chucks Seymour off the pier, where he at least lands in deep water and starts swimming toward the shore. Kalika still wants to know where the baby is, and Sita obviously can’t tell her, but Kalika forces some kind of hypnosis onto her mother and gets her to give up the phone number and the plan.

As she leaves, Sita demands to know what’s so special about this baby. Kalika responds by ripping up a board from the pier and throwing it into the water — straight through Seymour’s back. Sita dives in, determined to save him, but by the time they get to shore it’s too late. He’s lost too much blood to even be able to be turned into a vampire. (At least, I guess, without the tools made handy by the creepy sociopath in TLV2 that allowed her to turn FBI Dude, who was similarly close to death.)

So she builds him a funeral pyre, but something stays her hand with the match. Instead, she gets out what’s left of the baby blood and pours half of it onto the wound and half of it down Seymour’s throat. Five minutes later, he’s alive and awake and alert and ready to move on. Only not right now, because this is the end of the book.

For the first time in this series, I actually don’t feel like Pike is forcing a cliffhanger ending. It seems like he genuinely had too much story and character-building to put into just one book, and did some pre-planning in spreading this story over two. (I don’t remember if it keeps on into the sixth, but I feel like it didn’t. Although these three Sita books popped out within five months of each other, so the plan was there even if the connection fades.) The tone and sensation here is more in keeping with what I came to expect from the first two, rather than the Matrix/Blade progenitor that was the third story.

And I’m not annoyed by “to be continued” this time! I’m even kind of looking forward to reading the next one. Let’s see if he can keep me invested through five more books about Sita. (Spoiler alert: I doubt it.)

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brynne-lagaao · 7 years

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(Fanfic) Set in Stone - Chapter Three

Title: Set in Stone

Pairing: Sarumi

Chapter: 3/18

Rating: M

Mirrors: AO3 | Website

Summary: Yata wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he performed a summon on his own in a fit of drunken loneliness. It definitely wasn’t some asshole demon with a bad attitude, even if that demon happened to be frustratingly hot. But breaking their contract was going to mean working together, and he wasn’t sure how much of that he could take before he snapped… one way or another.

Note: Thank you to @dropletons for being my beta and to @chromekins for helping with the magic aspect. This fic is not entirely accurate in terms of modern magic and the demon lore was basically made up to suit the story, but I tried to keep somewhat of an authentic feel, so hopefully that succeeded.

It was cloudy outside, which wasn’t unusual, and there was a mid-Spring chill in the air still. Yata threw a hoodie on over his T-shirt before they left the apartment, but Fushimi seemed more or less indifferent to the weather.

“Aren’t you cold like that?” Yata asked him as they turned off the walkway leading from the apartment complex onto the sidewalk.

“I don’t have the same body temperature as a human,” Fushimi responded blandly. He was walking with slightly hunched shoulders, hands in his pockets. It made him look even more like a regular person, which made the previous night feel even more like some kind of weird dream and not an actual thing that had happened and potentially fucked up Yata’s life. “Or a changeling, apparently.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Yata glanced around just to be sure, but nobody seemed to be paying them the slightest attention. Not that they’d be taken seriously even if someone heard… “I’m not that much different from a regular human. Just the aging thing and – ” He stopped there, abruptly unsure how much he wanted to give away.

Fushimi gave him a sidelong look. “And…?”

“Never mind.” Yata shook his head slightly. Better not to reveal all his secrets. If they had to stay together long enough, he’d find out pretty quick, but that didn’t mean there was any reason to tell him now. “I’m not that different, s’all.” He managed a bit of a smirk. “I don’t have horns or anything.”

The typical click of Fushimi’s tongue answered him. “I could fix that for you pretty easily.”

“Hah! No thanks.” Yata shook his head, smirk widening as he turned back. “Y’know, I’m not totally ignorant about this summoning business. I’m the one who summoned you, right? I know you can’t do anything to me that I don’t want.”

The expression on Fushimi’s face turned sour; Yata couldn’t help but huff out a laugh. “You don’t like losing much, do ya?”

“That’s a stupid thing to say,” Fushimi muttered back. “Nobody enjoys losing.”

Yata’s spirits were buoyed enough by the small victory that he let that one pass. “Anyway, we got a few blocks to go to get to the station. Usually I’d use my skateboard or – ” He caught himself in time, and cleared his throat instead of continuing. “Well, you’re slowing me down, but whatever.”

Fushimi raised an eyebrow at him, unimpressed. “Would you rather I followed you from the air?”

That… actually wouldn’t have been a bad idea, if it wasn’t shitty timing. “We’re in public, dumbass!” Yata reached up to scratch the back of his head, annoyed that he hadn’t thought of it sooner. “Look, if you’re still around later, I’ll find some place to cast invisibility and – wait.” He squinted at Fushimi, realizing belatedly that he really had no idea how demon magic worked. “Can you make yourself invisible?”

“No. Unfortunately.” The answer came with another almost petulant click of Fushimi’s tongue; he frowned. “If I could, I’d have done it already and not have to deal with navigating your world in the first place.”

“Right, right.” Made sense; no point doing things the hard way if you didn’t have to. “Anyway, I can do it for you later and then you can race me if you really want.” He couldn’t help a smirk at that. “I’m pretty fast, though – just sayin’.”

Almost reluctantly, the corners of Fushimi’s mouth edged up in response. There was a flicker of something like interest in his eyes. “Is that so?”

“Better believe it is!”

“Hm.” Without losing the tiny smirk, Fushimi shut his eyes, letting out a small, amused huff. “We’ll see.”

The exchange was oddly enjoyable – and the prospect of a challenge had Yata feeling fired up. “All right!” He folded one hand into a fist, raising it with enthusiasm. “Let’s get this shit done and I’ll show you!”

“So noisy,” Fushimi muttered, but it lacked most of the frustration of earlier.

They walked in silence for a bit. It was an uneasy silence – like a temporary truce had been called – but it wasn’t horribly uncomfortable. Yata wasn’t sure if it was more of a relief not to have to defend himself from constant verbal attacks or… kind of a disappointment. For all he’d been an asshole, Fushimi was strangely fascinating. Or maybe not so strangely. He was a demon, after all – that was kinda cool, and it was something Yata didn’t know a heck of a lot about. If they’d been on better terms, he might’ve asked about what that was like.

Where did Fushimi live when he wasn’t being summoned? What did he do all the time? Did he have a family? Friends? Hobbies?

Yata stole a glance sideways at the man walking next to him. He looked perfectly normal – well-structured features, yeah, but not a vision of perfection by any stretch. His clothing, posture, habits, and general appearance were all that of any regular guy. He didn’t seem phased by the apartment or city. Did that mean he lived somewhere like this? Was the place demons lived another whole plane of existence, like the fae that Homra dealt with?

Fushimi seemed to notice he was being scrutinized, because he tilted his head slightly and met Yata’s gaze. “What?”

“Huh?” Yata blinked, caught off-guard, and shifted his eyes forward instead, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck awkwardly. “Oh. Nothing. My bad.”

He could almost hear the frown in Fushimi’s response. “If you say so.”

The feeling of eyes on him made his skin prickle in a way that wasn’t… totally unpleasant. Yata made an attempt to shrug it off, letting his hand drop and deliberately increasing his pace. “S’not much farther. C’mon.”

The subway station was crowded as usual – it wasn’t too bad with it being past noon on a weekday, but rush hour would start in an hour or so, and if they weren’t quick, it might be hell coming back. At the moment, the traffic was just a steady stream, which meant there’d be more than enough standing space in the trains, but having to pack in like sardines wasn’t fun, even if he could be sure Fushimi wouldn’t do anything if he got annoyed enough.

Yata frowned, considering it. I might end up having to show him after all…

“Are we going in?” Fushimi’s voice cut into his thoughts. He’d slowed to a stop when Yata had, and was studying him with that inscrutable expression.

“Uh – yeah.” Except… tickets. Which was no problem for Yata, since he had a transit pass, but… “Shit. I forgot I’ll have to buy you a ticket.” He pulled out his wallet, checking the meager supply of cash he kept on him.

Fushimi clicked his tongue. “Don’t bother.” Before Yata could react to that, he turned, stepping into the path of a random man. “Hey. You.”

What the hell is he doing? Yata stared after him, momentarily stunned into inaction.

The man who’d just been accosted blinked, openly startled. “Uh… me?”

“That’s right.” Fushimi indicated to the paper in his hand. “Did you just buy that ticket?”

“Uh…” The man lifted the ticket and looked at it, as if needing to confirm, and then squinting dubiously at Fushimi. “Yes?”

“Good. Which way is the ticket station?”

“Oh!” The more innocuous question seemed to relieve the man, who turned with much more confidence to wave in the direction he’d come from. “Just back there – you can’t miss ’em!”

“Thanks.” Stepping around the man – who seemed happy enough to scurry off without a backward glance, Fushimi made his way back towards Yata.

“What the hell was that ab – ?” The protest died in his throat as he watched Fushimi hold his hand in front of his body, fingers curling as a small square of paper appeared from thin air within them.

“Let’s go then,” Fushimi drawled, deftly turning the paper to reveal the ticket information printed on it.

Yata gaped at him, unable to help. “You – hold up – how’d you do that?”

Fushimi’s answering look was flat. “Magic.”

“I never saw magic like that.” He was used to components – incantations – runes – channeling… Not just making things appear out of thin air. Who did that?

Well, okay, demons – but still!

Fushimi sighed, sounding long-suffering. “You’re going to be tiresome about it, huh?” He held the ticket between two fingers and slid them apart slowly. The paper dissipated between them, leaving no trace behind. “It’s illusion. The ticket isn’t really here.” He brought his fingers back together, and the ticket manifested again between them. “Demonic magic is all about fooling the senses. Starting with mine and ending with everyone else around me.”

“Really?” It sounded so simple. Yata reached out automatically towards the ticket, and felt his fingers brush the paper. It felt real. “I can touch it, though.”

“I said your senses, not just your sight.” Fushimi clicked his tongue, withdrawing his hand. “Shouldn’t we go? We’re going to look suspicious just standing around here.”

That was true – a glance around showed a few people giving them curious looks. Yata frowned back at them, and they quickly looked away. “Yeah, yeah, fine,” he gave in grudgingly, tearing his eyes from the ticket in Fushimi’s hand to pull his pass out. “Let’s go.”

There was a small line-up at the ticket gate, so Yata took the opportunity to continue his line of inquiry in an undertone. “Hey. So why’d you have to stop that guy back there?”

“I needed to see what a ticket looked like.” Fushimi’s voice was almost a mumble – barely audible over the chatter around them. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to make one, would I?”

“Huh.” That kind of brought up an alarming thought, though. “Wait, you didn’t just copy his ticket, did you? Because – ”

“Keep your voice down, will you?” Fushimi cut him off sharply. He frowned. “Of course I didn’t – I’m not an idiot. The barcode is based on a time stamp.” His tone was flat and matter-of-fact. “Once I saw what his looked like, I calculated mine based on a different time stamp.” He reached up to push his glasses higher on his nose. “It’s unlikely that anyone here will have an exact duplicate, but even if that happens, I can pretend it didn’t scan properly and change it to a different one.”

Yata stared at him, astonished. “You figured that out in your head?”

Fushimi shrugged. “It’s not that hard.”

“Seriously? It’s fucking amazing!” The grin spreading on his face was almost involuntary. Damn, this was actually cool. Fushimi was a damn genius. “All you did was glance at his ticket, and you figured that all out in like – what – thirty seconds? Not even!” It was impressive as hell; he couldn’t help the admiration flooding through him. “That’s awesome!”

For a moment, Fushimi just blinked at him, clearly taken off-guard. It was almost charming. He recovered quickly, though, clicking his tongue and turning his gaze to the side. “Don’t be so loud,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, right.” Yata shrugged that off, stepping forward again as the line advanced. He eyed the gate. “Even if it’s an illusion, it’ll still go through okay, right?”

“If I can fool a person, I should be able to fool a machine,” Fushimi responded drily.

He ended up being right about that – the ticket scanned with no problems, allowing them to pass through to the platform and then the train without incident. Yata bit back the storm of questions raging around inside his brain while they boarded and rode the subway, waiting impatiently for them to be in the open where there was less chance of being overheard.

Unfortunately, the aisle where they stood side-by-side on the train car had them facing a group of four girls who looked like they should’ve been in school at that time of day. Yata did his best not to look at them, growing increasingly uncomfortable. Every time he happened to glance down at where they were sitting, at least one of them quickly averted her eyes and the whole group giggled nervously. It was a stressful experience.

“You’re not very good with women, are you?” Fushimi commented blandly as they – finally – stepped off the train.

“Shut up,” Yata grumbled in response, trying to shrug off the tension that had collected in that cramped space. He’d never managed to figure out where that discomfort came from – it was just something to do with the way it felt when women were looking at him. Like they could see through him, in a way that men couldn’t somehow. He was old enough now to know it was irrational, and he seriously was getting better at dealing with it, but his feelings didn’t always cooperate. “What’s it to you?”

The question was ignored. “Is that why you prefer men, maybe?”

“Not so loud!” Yata glanced around furtively as they pushed through the doors leading out of the station, but it didn’t seem like their conversation had attracted any attention. Good. He wasn’t particularly ashamed of his preferences – not any more, anyway – but it pissed him off when people gave him those judgy looks. It was none of their fucking business.

Actually, it wasn’t Fushimi’s business either, but hell if he was gonna let that stupid misconception go. “I like guys because I like guys. That’s it.” Automatically, he reached up to scratch at the back of his head, letting out a frustrated breath. “Dunno if I’d be bi or something if it wasn’t for the… women thing, but that’s how it is.”

He could feel Fushimi’s eyes on him. It was unnerving, like his thoughts were being read right through his skull. The part he hadn’t admitted – and wasn’t going to admit – was that there were things he’d found he liked in bed that he wasn’t likely to get from a woman, at least not without having to bring it up in a really awkward way. Things he didn’t really feel like doing without, honestly. It made any speculation on that subject moot, more or less; he could safely consider himself exclusively gay.

That was going way too personal for a conversation with someone he barely knew and didn’t even particularly like that much. Yata hastily changed the subject, picking up his pace just enough to lead them in the right direction onto the sidewalk outside. “Anyway, you said demon magic was illusions, right? Can you put illusions on anything? Like, make things look like something else, and all?”

“More or less.” Thankfully, Fushimi picked up the new topic without any fuss. “There are rules, though. I can only make things seem like they’ve changed – or that they exist in the first place, when they don’t already.” He held up the ticket again between his index and middle finger before giving them a wriggle and brushing off the illusion as if it were dust. “I can’t make things disappear if they exist in reality. But you know…” At that he smirked a little, glancing sideways at Yata again. “The things I make are real enough. An illusionary knife will still cut.”

Yata frowned back at him, shaking off the involuntary shudder that came with the statement. “You’re creepy as hell, y’know that?”

“Demon,” Fushimi drawled in response, without losing an inch of the smirk.

“Yeah, yeah,” Yata grumbled, vaguely annoyed by the tone. “If your magic is all illusion, doesn’t that mean you could just make yourself look like a bird or something instead of going invisible when you fly?”

“I can’t use illusions on myself.” At that, the smirk did lessen, shifting toward a frown. “It’s awkward, but sometimes you can work around it. External things like clothing work, for example.”

“Huh.” The word was barely out of his mouth before an outrageous possibility entered his head. Yata turned to stare, vaguely alarmed. “Hey, wait – does that mean – those clothes you’re wearing now – ?”

Fushimi clicked his tongue. “I don’t exactly bring a wardrobe with me when I respond to a summon.”

Yata tripped over his own feet and just about fell, stumbling a few steps as he stared at Fushimi incredulously. “The hell? Doesn’t that mean you’re walking around” – He felt his cheeks flare up as outrage mounted within him, and lowered his voice, glancing around furtively for any possible eavesdroppers – “naked?”

“Would you like me to?” That smirk was edging up on Fushimi’s face again, slow and wicked. “It seemed like you were trying not to attract attention earlier, but it makes no difference to me.” His voice had shifted back to a mocking drawl, but there was an undercurrent of interest in the lazy gaze he shot Yata’s way. “By the way… that’s an awfully strong reaction for someone who can’t tell the difference. What are you imagining?”

The blurred image of a pale-skinned bare torso flashed to the front of Yata’s mind, and he nearly choked, the warmth on his face intensifying. “I-I’m not imagining anything!” Setting his mouth into a scowl to cover his embarrassment, he deliberately increased his pace to put a little space between them. “It’s weird to think about, okay? That’s all!”

“Is it?” The response was light and unaffected. “Because your emotions say otherwise.”

That was irritating enough that Yata shot him a glare over his shoulder. “Shut up, asshole,” he gritted out, before turning back deliberately. “Can’t wait to get you out of my head and out of my life already!”

Fushimi clicked his tongue again, the drawl giving way to irritation. “You’re not the only one.”

There was no point justifying that with a response. Yata distracted himself by turning his attention to his surroundings, despite having come this way often enough to more or less know the place by heart. This was part of the city’s business district, so they were surrounded by high rise buildings. The streets were wide and well-kept, crowded with cars even at this hour, and the sidewalks were mostly occupied by professionally dressed men and women. There was a feeling of cool efficiency in the way that people moved briskly about, both the steady traffic of the road and the confident pace of the pedestrians on the walkways.

At one point he’d been uncomfortable coming to this part of town, but he was more or less used to it by now. Barely anyone gave him more than a half-interested glance, too absorbed in their own business to pay attention to random punks. The attitude used to piss him off when he figured they were all looking down on him, but a certain amount of experience made it pretty clear that most people just didn’t pay attention to anyone; it wasn’t really anything personal.

Hell, sometimes it made things easier for him. He couldn’t complain.

“Here.” Yata paused at the ramp leading up to their destination so that Fushimi could cross the couple of steps worth of distance between them. The building they were in front of was sandwiched between two high-rises, which made it look a bit odd, considering that it was a fairly modest height compared to some of the others in the area. The design was sleek and symmetrical, the majority of the exterior made up of thick-paned one-sided glass. There were two thin marble planters on either side of the double doors that the ramp led up to, with neatly cut plants growing in an elegant arrangement.

As usual, it was sickeningly perfect. “Let’s go.”

The inside of the building was no less orderly than the outside, the cleanly tiled floor shining in the light that poured in through the windows from all sides. There was a large crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling that scattered tiny refractions across the room. On the wall opposite the entrance was an elevator and a listing of the floors and offices in the building – nothing particularly unusual.

Yata pressed the ‘up’ button without bothering to look, tucking his hands into his pockets and watching the elevator door idly as he waited.

“Is this really an office building?” Fushimi asked him; when Yata glanced at him, he was looking around the room, eyes lingering on the ornate light fixture above them.

“No idea.” Yata shrugged, turning away as the elevator pinged at them. “I only ever go to one place here.”

“Hm.” Fushimi didn’t appear satisfied with that answer, but he let the matter drop without comment and followed Yata onto the elevator.

Once the doors closed, Yata hit the emergency stop button, paused for a second to make sure the lighting on the numbers changed from white to red, and then hit a few of them in the sequence that Kusanagi had painstakingly drilled into his head. The panel beneath the number pad popped open and a thin keypad slid out, which he dutifully typed his personal access code onto.

There was a click, and the lighting changed from red to green. The keypad receded.

Into the following silence, Fushimi commented blandly, “’Yatagarasu’?”

Goddamn, he was good at catching things. Yata shot him a frown. “Nickname with my coven.” The reminder had his frown shifting even further into a scowl. “Dunno how this guy figured that out, but – ”

He was cut off as the elevator whirred to life, and the ground abruptly seemed to drop from beneath them as it began its rapid descent.

Even though he’d done this countless times already, it was still jarring. Yata grit his teeth, holding steady as the disorientation passed. Sometimes it felt like that pause between entering the code and the elevator starting to move was just for the building owner’s amusement value. Seriously wouldn’t put it past that guy…

Fushimi clicked his tongue; when Yata glanced at him, he looked irritated. “What is this, an amusement park attraction?”

Yata couldn't help but snort in response. “You’re telling me. I have to come here almost every day for this asshole. It’s not something you get used to.”

There was no real chance for a response, even if Fushimi would have offered it; the elevator slowed and came to a halt almost as jarringly as it had started up, sounding off an obnoxious ‘ding’ as it did. The doors slid open.

The hall they revealed was similar in elegance to the lobby above, but the decor was not as plain. The ceiling was vaulted, and both it and the walls were ornately carved with delicate lines and simple patterns, soft off-white with little traces of silver and gold. The floor was slick, polished grey, and the lighting, cool and faintly tinted with blue, seemed to reflect off of it and cause a myriad of colors to echo through the room.

Yata let out a soft ‘ch’, already a little irritated just from the sight of it. Show off. He started out from the elevator, deliberately letting his sneakers skid on the spotless floor.

At the end of the hall was a familiar set of double doors, large and black with golden handles and an elaborate knocker with the Roman numeral “four” engraved on its surface. Yata ignored the knocker, reaching for the handle without hesitance or ceremony – the guy behind the door knew they were there already, so why bother?

Behind him, Fushimi let out a strangely resigned-sounding sigh. “The fourth, huh? I thought so.”

Yata paused with his hand on the handle, turning to frown at him. “Huh?”

“Never mind.” Fushimi shook his head. “Let’s just go in.”

For a moment, Yata squinted suspiciously at him – but hell, he wasn't going to get answers by standing there arguing with this guy. “Yeah, yeah.” He pressed down on the handle and opened the door, stepping in without waiting.

“Oh?” A deeper-toned voice greeted him with mildly. The man it belonged to sat opposite the door behind a broad wooden desk, which was surprisingly bare in contrast to the overdone ornate decor on the walls and flooring. The structure of the hall extended into this room as well, but somehow the light within felt like daylight seeping through open windows. Which was stupid, considering they were underground, but there it was. Several display stands with various items – most of which were probably rare, and way more than he could afford anyway – flanked the desk. On the surface in front of the man, a half-finished puzzle was laid out.

This was Yata’s current employer, a man he knew very little about beyond his name – Munakata – and the vague nature of his underground business. Which was... something to do with providing rare and valuable components for some of the more extensive spells Kusanagi cast on the Homra bar to keep their doings under wraps. Whatever. As long as Kusanagi vouched for him, Yata was fine with it too. And since he was getting paid well enough, the rest wasn’t too important.

The smile offered up in response to his entry held the usual annoying mix of knowing and amused. “How unusual that you would return today, Yatagarasu-kun.” Munakata rested his elbows on the desk, creating a bridge with his hands and somehow managing to avoid brushing aside the tiny puzzle pieces with his heavy, ceremonial black robes. “I seem to recall being informed that your intent was to have the day ‘off’.”

“Yeah, well, shit happened.” Yata scowled at him in response, even more irritated than usual by the formal speech. “And quit calling me that! It’s not my real name, goddamnit!”

“My apologies.” There wasn’t a trace of real apology in the statement. “I admit to being quite charmed by the fitting nature of the nickname. But that aside...” His gaze shifted away from Yata. “You appear to have gained a most interesting companion.”

“What ‘gain’?” Yata muttered, glancing back.

Fushimi clicked his tongue, cutting off any further complaint. His was looking past Yata to where Munakata sat, gaze wary. “What are you doing here, Captain?”

“Eh?” For a moment, Yata was too stunned to do more than look back and forth between them, caught completely off-guard. “Wait – what do you – ?”

Munakata leaned back in his seat, leaving his fingers interlaced in front of him. “This is merely a side venture, Fushimi-kun,” he responded, without acknowledging Yata's stuttered attempts at questioning them. “Please rest assured that I have no intention of neglecting my more pressing duties.”

Fushimi frowned at him. “And what do you call giving out a collection of our summoning circles to a civilian?”

“Yata-kun is a most competent witch – not to mention an exceptionally strong being.” Munakata's gaze flickered very briefly to Yata, and his smile widened marginally. “I had every confidence that he would not misuse such a gift.”

That earned another click of Fushimi’s tongue. “Your confidence is misplaced, then. This guy performed a summoning while drunk, and didn’t bother to include a timeframe.”

“Is that so?” Munakata leaned forward again, keen interest lighting in his gaze. “And you responded even so.” He tilted his head. “How very unlike you, Fushimi-kun.”

Fushimi caught his breath sharply; when Yata looked over at him, he caught only a brief glimpse of those blue-grey eyes widening before their owner was turning his gaze aside, scowling. “You didn’t have to say that much...”

“What’s that s’posed to mean?” Yata demanded – and then abruptly remembered there were more pressing questions. “And – wait – how the hell do you guys know each other? What are you even talking about, anyway?”

“Haven’t you guessed yet?” Fushimi muttered, sounding out of sorts. “This guy is my boss.”

“Huh?” Yata gaped at him for a moment, then spun around again. “Wait, wait, wait…” He thrust a finger in front of him, pointing directly at Munakata. “You’re telling me this guy’s a fucking demon? Like, a demon lord, even?”

“Lord of the fourth region of hell’s influence.” Fushimi's tone was drawling, almost bored. “Not that it means as much as you'd think.” He looked up again to fix Munakata with a steady gaze, pushing his glasses up on his nose. “But he does have jurisdiction over any contracts formed in my sector.”

The word ‘contracts’ somehow managed to snap him out of his shock. Yata lowered his finger, directing his own glare at Munakata, who smiled pleasantly in return. “So you’re the guy who can get us out of this.” He narrowed his eyes. “You’re the fucker who got me into this, so you’d better fix it!”

“A most unjust accusation, Yata-kun.” Munakata seemed unbothered by the attention. “I merely gifted you with the book – there was no coercion on my part regarding how you chose to make use of it.” He tipped his head towards his interlaced fingers, glasses catching the light in a way that made them seem to glitter. “However, if you are in need of my assistance, I can certainly provide it – in exchange for an appropriate price, of course.”

This fucking guy... Yata’s hands curled into fists at his side, scowl deepening. “‘Appropriate price’, my ass, you – !”

“What price?” Fushimi cut him off, voice sharp and dripping with suspicion.

Munakata made a small noise of approval. “How practical of you to ask, Fushimi-kun.” He finally unclasped his hands, reaching down to open one of the drawers of his desk. “As it happens, I do have a task that will suitably employee both of your unique talents.” When he straightened again, the hand he extended toward them held two small stones.

They looked like ordinary stones, Yata noted, squinting suspiciously at them. Both were small and oval-shaped with smooth surfaces. One was orange and crystaline, with sharp angles and tiny specs of contrasting shades within, like ashes rising from a flame. The other was soft blue with splintering white highlights, looking as though a blizzard had been frozen and contained within.

“Sunstone and moonstone,” Munakata identified them without being asked. “In reality, two different offshoots of a mineral known as feldspar. Their potency for use in magic is almost entirely dependent on the amount and quality of sunlight or moonlight they have absorbed.” He paused very briefly, and then added, “At present, that potency rests at zero.”

“So? You want us to charge ’em?” That didn't sound difficult. Yata frowned in response. “Gotta be more to it than that...”

“Most perceptive of you, Yata-kun.” Munakata set the stones delicately on his desk in front of the half-finished puzzle. “In point of fact, an ordinary charge would not be sufficient for the purpose I intend to turn these to.”

Fushimi let out a short sigh. “Is it necessary to be so cryptic?”

“My apologies. The intended purpose need not concern you.” Munakata leaned back in his seat, this time crossing his legs and clasping his hands in front of him. “Yata-kun, your aspect is the sun – and Fushimi-kun’s, the moon. That makes the two of you ideal for this... unusual venture.” Without waiting for comments or questions, he went on. “In this instance, I need to have the moonstone charged with sunlight and the sunstone charged with moonlight.” He studied them both intently. “Further, the charges need to be exceptionally strong – and completed within a lunar cycle of one another.”

“Huh?” Yata blurted, even as he heard Fushimi’s flat, “What,” from beside him. He stared at his employer, flabbergasted.

To charge the stones in the opposite element... What the hell’s the point? Also, because of the incompatibility, it was going to be hard to get a decent charge – much less an ‘exceptionally strong’ one. And how were those charges going to last long enough to be of any goddamn use? The stones wouldn’t hold them for all that long.

In short, none of it made any damn sense at all.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Fushimi echoed his thought out loud, an edge of thinly contained impatience in his voice. He frowned suspiciously at Munakata. “What are you up to, Captain?”

Munakata returned the frown with an untroubled smile. “Have faith, Fushimi-kun – my actions will surely line up with the logical order in time, as always.” He glanced at Yata, and made a small, self-satisfied hum. “It would be wise if Yata-kun were to take charge of the moonstone and you the sunstone, for now. I can sense the presence of twelve points in the city ideal for the collection of either moonlight or sunlight – if you can endeavor to locate each one and determine its properties, I have confidence in your ability to collect a full charge in each stone before long.” His gaze lingered almost uncomfortably. “Yata-kun has an uncanny knack for determining precisely when exposure would hinder rather than help; I suggest you make use of that.”

The unexpected compliment brought an odd blend of disgruntled acknowledgement and reluctant pride; Yata stared back at him, nonplussed and not sure how to respond. “Yeah, right,” he muttered, reaching up to scratch at the back of his head awkwardly.

Instinct, again – he’d always been good at finding just the right quantity and quality of what he needed, without bothering with measurements or anything. Kusanagi had gotten him to charge things in the past, though Yata more often made use of that talent in the kitchen where he did most of his casting.

It was something that rarely failed him – except when it came to his love life. And demon summoning circles, apparently.

The reminder fired up his determination. Yata reached out and snatched the blue stone from the table, letting out a frustrated ‘ch’ as he did. “Whatever. I’ll do what it takes to get this asshole out of my goddamn life. The sooner the better!”

Fushimi clicked his tongue as well, extending his hand to pluck the orange stone with far less enthusiasm. “What a troublesome job.”

Munakata chucked. “I have every confidence in you both.”

That wasn’t even worth answering. Yata snorted, pocketing his stone and turning to head for the door. “This doesn't change the fact that I’m off today,” he said irritably, reaching for the handle. “I’m not doing any deliveries until tomorrow.”

“Of course.” Munakata's response was perfectly calm and even. “I had no intention of allowing these... unusual circumstances... to interfere with our regular business arrangement.”

Naturally he wouldn't. Yata huffed a frustrated breath, swinging the door open with force and stalking through it, leaving Fushimi to close it behind them.

“Take care,” Munakata's voice followed them, and then the door shut firmly, cutting off any remaining connection.

#k #sarumi #yata misaki #fushimi saruhiko #fanfic #fanfic:mine

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