#based on the prompt: jarring imagery | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ddaenghoney · 5 years ago

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chapter fourteen

masterlist link in blog description.

As a successful songwriter, you want nothing more than the acknowledgment that the chart-topping musical pieces are your own creations. But contracts, relationships, and the difficulty of facing the stakes involved head on, keep your mouth shut until pressure builds too much.

Pairing(s): Park Jimin x Y/N, Min Yoongi x Y/N

disclaimer: any characters depicted do not represent the actual personality of the respected idol in real life.

Series warning(s)/genre(s): Chapter-based written fic, Slow-burn relationship(s), Fake-dating, Unrequited love, Songwriter/producer!oc, idol!Jimin, idol/songwriter/producer!Yoongi, friends with benefits, drama, romance, smut, angst, fluff (updated as needed)

Chapter warning(s): none.

Word count: 5053

if you enjoy please, please let me know!

“The cover art is really simple.” Your eyes scan over the imagery of a black background with three muted color swatches arranged in rectangles meant to represent the ambiance of each track respectfully. Squeezing your hands that settled long ago on Yoongi’s right shoulder and upper arm, you bite your lip watching him type in an equally succinct description.

“Want to wait until we can design something?” He shifts his head with a shake so that his bangs cease obscuring his view as he glances up at you. A tiny shake of your head is your reply along with silence, appearing contemplative. “We can if you want.”

“If I don’t let you do it now, I think I’ll be putting it off forever.” You admit sheepishly. Your nervous eyes look towards Yoongi’s warm stare and a little smile breaks onto your face to try and hide the spilling nerves. “Really, Yoon, I like how it looks I’m not worried about the art to be honest with you.”

He nods gently, then pushes his chair a couple inches aside causing your hand on his arm to fall away while the other remains with a firm squeeze that Yoongi pays no mind to. “You want to be the one to click publish?”

“Me?” You startle, looking back towards the screen. The little red button in the corner reading ‘submit’ appears utterly normal and unassuming, yet the implications of what it will do are vastly opposite. You never thought about how jarring just releasing tracks could feel; while there is excited anticipation brewing in your chest, you can’t stop the conflicting nerves of wonder about the reception to find their way into each heartbeat as well. “I’m probably acting dramatic, aren’t I?”

“Not really.” Yoongi repels your self-consciousness, reaching his hand to cover over the top of yours on his shoulder, “It’s scary putting something you worked so hard on out there; I get it, sweetie.”

You nod, lips tightening from his voice’s comfort, and the pieces of worry that evaporate just because of his hand finding yours. Taking away the smallness of being alone, Yoongi assures you that he’s as much a part of this as you are. The name of his account, and your own next to the abbreviated producer title of the first track and written in the credential section of all three repeat the conjoinment of both of your responsibility for anything that can come from release.

With an exhale, you reach for the mouse, hovering the cursor over that red button that felt as much of a warning as it did a start. When you consider your beginnings of production five years earlier, you can almost believe this little action is entirely overdue. If you hadn’t given up so much of your voice for the job, maybe this would be a common occurrence by now, but then maybe as well you wouldn’t have the luxury of reaching this place alongside Yoongi.

Your index finger presses onto the mouse, allowing the millisecond clicking sound to practically blast through the room.

The screen takes barely anytime to refresh and reappear with a speeding loading meter. You watch it climb like the acceleration of your heartbeat, not for a moment taking consideration of the cancel button that lingers in the bottom corner. Yoongi’s hand grows tighter over top of yours, silently watching as well. Another page refreshes, announcing success and highlighting a link to share with anyone, as a short description tells that the public can now access on the music streaming service.

“Oh my god,” You dribble out exclamatory ramblings, then turn to look at Yoongi who looks up at you after a second longer of reading the information on the screen. Despite the shock excluding your expression, Yoongi smiles up at you, grinning teeth peeking through as you remain motionless.

“Congratulations, angel.” He says, rubbing your hand while allowing the moment to catch up with you. It does so in a slow eruption of a smile on your face, one that leaves you a little bouncy in enthusiasm,

“Yoongi,” You pull your hand away covering your mouth with both of them though it doesn’t hide the evident happiness taking over your expression. Yoongi’s empathetic glow of thrill for you remains as he stands from his seat, mixing a laugh into a gasp when you hop against him into a full hug. Nearly tripping backwards, his arms cross around you as his foot plants firmly to keep himself upright. “Thank you so much, Yoon. Really, really thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me, angel, but you’re welcome.” He mumbles quickly, not wanting to take any of the moment’s attention from you. Instead his ands rub your back soothingly, elated from how happy you cling onto him with your face buried into the crook of his neck. “You want to go do something to celebrate?”

“Yes,” You nod, as you look upwards at him, ignoring the close proximity of your faces while you pay more attention to your toes remaining balance on the ground. “Please. Let’s get out of here-- we’ll probably get hunted down if we hang around.”

Within a few short minutes, the two of you stroll quickly down the hall, arriving at the elevator as you situate your bag’s strap over your shoulder. Yoongi adjusts a mask along his chin, keeping it off his mouth and nose until exiting the building. Your mind trails over a million ideas of comments that will find their way onto the internet in response, creating a reason for you to avoid looking at any social media for as long as possible.

You send a text to a groupchat with Namjoon and Seokjin instead, vague about details, but factually accurate with the most important news about Yoongi and you dropping the three tracks into the world without any warning. Expecting a reply from either as soon as one reads the shocking text, you keep your phone in your grasp, but bite your lip at the troublesome nag that Yerin could just as easily try and get in contact with you any moment as well.

“You okay?” Yoongi ducks his head, eyes studying any emotion on your face, as you sigh to ward thoughts away. Dropping your phone into the confines of your bag to leave the world at bay, you nod at him. “Without thinking about the bad things, the music itself is really good, angel. Try to just focus on that. Everyone is bound to like your work.” He continues to alleviate, stretching an arm in your direction which your hand happily takes to grab hold of his waiting appendage again. Entwining the fingers, he gives you a protective squeeze, listening to the elevator stop and announce the ground level, “Let’s just celebrate tonight. This is a happy occasion.”

“You’re right, yeah. I was just trying to let Joon and Jin know about it, but then I started thinking about everything too much.” You explain as you both step from the elevator into the staff lobby, where Yoongi can receive his car from the valet service. “What do you think we should go eat?”

Yoongi hums in thought, contemplating locations as he waves to one of the employees who knows him by face and starts off down to the garage level immediately. “I guess something to go with drinks. Barbeque usually says celebration, right?” He turns to you, as you lean against the counter fiddling with his fingers between both of your hands.

“You just love meat.” You smile up at him, straying one of your hands to pat against his chest as he pouts his lips above his mask and shrugs nonchalantly in response.

“Well, maybe-- but it is celebratory food, isn’t it?”

“Hmm...” You giggle as he gently jiggles your linked hands to further enhance a sales pitch,

“Why don’t you invite Namjoon and Jin? I bet they’d want to come.”

You roll your eyes at his attempt to push the desire for barbeque, though you’re inclined to agree because of the warm weather of summer evenings making the meal idea enticing. Ready to give in to stop Yoongi’s growing pout that seems more begging now than casually pitching the meal, your words never come out as the elevator’s sound again registers in your sense and you watch Jimin exit out.

The sparse amount of people in the lobby cause him to notice you and Yoongi in little time. Where you anticipated a small nod and walk away, you find his eyes linger instead, full of invisibly flurry despite the solemn expression encompassing his body language. You don’t turn away, instincts causing prickles of wonder in your chest, that grow into worry when you catch him smother a frown away.

Your suddenly tight squeeze on Yoongi’s hands, prompt him to turn his head back to check what you see. Watching Jimin step towards the little group of you two, Yoongi lifts himself from leaning on the counter, shifting so that he can face the casually dressed brunette.

“Hey,” Jimin greets the words towards you, and gives a nod of his head to Yoongi amicably. The tone of his voice is polite, but not like usual. Your eyebrows furrow in response to the fact, but you can’t dwell as Jimin goes on, “Hopefully you’re okay after what that guy said earlier?”

“Oh, yeah,” You nod, having practically forgotten about the producer for the past couple of hours. “He’s always been rude, so I don’t really care.” You explain, catching Yoongi’s pensive expression in the corner of your eye. Likely gauging the situation of your comfort. “Thanks again for saying something, Jimin.”

“It wasn’t really anything,” He shrugs off your words, glancing towards the exit doors as a driver parks a car in the small archway. “Definitely not something that deserves thanks.”

The absentmindedness of his eyes are a familiar sight, not a common occurrence, but you’ve seen it before. Appearing cluttered amidst thoughts, Jimin acts abnormal, but not in the way as a reaction to the strained memories between you too. Something other than that bothers him, you realize and can’t stop the quiet questioning, “Are you okay?”

Yoongi glances towards you as you ask, finding a genuine focus for the man in front of you in your eyes. When he looks towards Jimin whose appearance seems hesitant at your line of questioning, Yoongi for a moment wonders if there’s still entanglement between you both. You haven’t brought up Jimin in weeks now, but certainly the thought of him crosses your mind, Yoongi realizes this, but watching forms a knot in his throat. Small, yet distinctly there as he stands separate from you both, despite his hands holding yours.

The moment of understanding startles him internally and his hand breaks from your own, as he comes back into reality hearing the employee from before calling his name. He turns back towards the counter, to retrieve his keys, listening on as the thread in his throat continues crossing in and out of itself, building up and for what reason.

“Yeah,” Wearily spoken, Jimin watches your short glance at Yoongi as his hand released yours. When your eyes quickly come back to his own, Jimin just shrugs a shoulder, forcing a half-hearted smile, “Long day… That’s all.”

Undeniably, there exists the beginnings of a line, that you have no reason to speak beyond what Jimin explains to you without substance of whatever is obviously wrong. Given all of the distance grown, and separation that has caused the awkwardness of strangers with history to fester between you both, you have no reason to go beyond the casual conversation, but you can’t erase his expression. You’re certain those around you would assume his response to be literal, but there’s more underneath it, you can see it.

You could see there was more beneath his response of surprise when you kissed him for the first time years ago, and you can just as easily decipher that there is something Jimin didn’t disclose that makes his person appear so recluse and uncertain. Worry doesn’t contain itself in your mind, instead flooding out from your heart practically shoving it, “Do you want to talk?”

It doesn’t feel wrong to ask him, but watching Jimin’s eyebrows twitch a bit wider you know the question is unexpected. Your lips tighten, trying to ignore the idea that you’ve made a mistake in offering. You turn towards Yoongi to alleviate the tension in your throat, to make the question lighter as you go on, “Right, we have time until the evening; I can talk to him and meet you afterwards?”

The second the sentence concludes you feel as though you’ve done even more wrong. Yoongi’s glance towards Jimin isn’t casual, closer to an examination, then he returns his eyes to you. It’s a small moment, but how Yoongi looks at you isn’t warm, but perhaps hurt. Disappointed in your decision, you think. Then it’s squashed away as he nods his head,

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

Blinking in confusion of his reaction, you stay stunned silent and only watch as Yoongi nods his head towards Jimin and walks around the two of you towards his car outside. Frowning now, you consider if you’ve said anything for him to get so visibly upset about. Even if he’s disappointed that you want to lend Jimin an ear, Yoongi’s completely altered mannerisms seem off.

“Y/N,” You look towards Jimin as he calls out to you and smiles gently, tiredly as he continues, “You don’t have to let me rant to you. I’m sure you don’t really want to.”

“I do though.” You reiterate, mentally frustrated by why Yoongi walked away. “You seem sad about something,” Explaining your perspective, your hands squeeze together, trying to settle in belief that what you’ve done isn’t wrong-- you don’t have to act like Jimin was the worst memory of your life, despite the changes since you’ve spoken to him, he was still important to you. He’s still human and capable of feeling sad, needing someone to listen; if you’re the one worried why wouldn’t you let him. You still care about his well being, it’s that simple, “Is it wrong of me to talk to you?”

“Well, no,” He says simply, biting his lip, and you wonder if his hesitation is due to Yoongi’s reaction as well or because of the strain between you two. “Then let’s go so you won’t be too late to meet him later on.”

---

“I’m actually kind of surprised you picked a cafe.” You admit quietly, looking down at your pretty, light lavender tea drink. Lifting your eyes up to Jimin you find him adjusting a stray lock under the confines of his cap where the rest of his hair has been hidden away. As though that is the bulk of his identity, and not the designer graphic shirt and expensive Doc Martins wouldn’t bring any attention, he sits back into his chair,

“Well, it’s not busy right now,” He says, which is fair considering only another single person typing away on their laptop sits on the opposite side of the establishment. “Besides if anyone says anything it’s easier to deny anything wrong with your fake relationship.”

“Yeah,” You murmur, forgetting about that public aspect between you and Yoongi often times lately. “I guess that’s true.” You stir your drink with the straw, less interested in drinking it. “So what happened that made you look so sad?” “Ah,” Jimin rubs his jaw, remembering the conversation with Yerin. He looks at your person, finding little details that have changed and others that haven’t, but most notably acknowledges your leave and its freeing effect on your expression. It almost feels not fair to complain to you when you’re taking everything SoundWave and himself to an extent have held away from you.

He’s caught in your gaze when you finally turn towards him expectant of an answer, but he really doesn’t feel like he should tell you. Why did he agree to speak with you in the first place. The largest part of Jimin’s heart simply wanted to see you again, but what is there to say. You shouldn’t have to listen to his tales of stagnation any longer. He doesn’t want to dwell on that, so his lips keep the meeting a secret as he changes the direction,

“I’m really sorry that I never told you how I felt about your contract earlier.” Knowing this isn’t what you expected him to say, Jimin isn’t surprised as he watches your eyes drift into shock and your mouth to part slightly. “I know I should’ve.” He smiles bitterly, glancing towards the drinks on the small table. “I love you. I didn’t want to ruin us, but that wasn’t fair of me.”

“Is,” Your slowly spoken speech causes you to ball your hands onto your lap, “Is that why you looked upset?” Regret continuing to jumble his days, like how you would recall the months of silence when you kept the questions you had to yourself.

“Maybe in some ways,” He ponders, still avoiding eye contact as he instead taps his index finger once on the laminated wood. “Yerin’s always told me that I can’t do for myself what you do for everyone in the company.” You narrow your eyes, about to cut in and ask what he means but Jimin goes on. “When I was going to debut they had it set that I wouldn’t produce any of the music, but I thought that would be short-term while I learned how in the meantime.” You watch his lips contort into a dissatisfied frown, “But when it stayed like that and I asked to try making my own music she’d always say that route is worthless for the company.”

“You tried to make your own music?” The statement falls out of your lips like a question in disbelief. Always believing he had no interest from the fact he never showed you even a line of his work.

“Of course,” He chuckles, rubbing his face as the memories wash over hours of work to create samples that were passed on each and every time. “I want to be a performer and make as much of my own stuff that I can, but,” The two of you know what he means when he stops speaking. There was never an opportunity for Jimin to even try. “According to Yerin, if you and other producers didn’t make everything themselves, I’d be out of a job as an idol.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Jimin turns towards your risen voice, finding your forehead creased in frustration, lips frowning like you hadn’t been trusted. He swallows air, not sure if you’d find his reasoning acceptable, because even Jimin thinks it’s just a testament to how cowardly he acted.

“I never mentioned the song rejections because I was embarrassed,” He pauses noticing your expression become more hurt, but he doesn’t stop. “You’re a genius at making songs, and I thought I was so bad at it that I couldn’t even be successful on my own without the company making everything that I am.” Jimin watches you continue to bite your lip, perhaps holding back words until he’s finished.

“But by the time you started talking about wanting to receive credit for your songs, I got scared that everything would fall apart for my own career.” He groans, rubbing his face with both hands as he shakes his head, “I know it was fucking greedy-- I really do know that, when I think about it now I get so upset. You’re getting what you deserve now though; you’ll be able to do what you want as a songwriter and producer and I’m glad. It took me losing you to get over being selfish and that’s always going to be something I have to live with, but if anything good came out of this I’m glad it’s you moving on. I’m happy for you,” When he smiles, Jimin wonders why you no longer look willing to speak. “Even if I’m not in your life anymore, I’ll still support whatever you do. I promise that.”

---

Namjoon, 6:14pm: You and Yoongi did WHAT?

Seokjin, 6:16pm: Tell me why the first song of the three is so good. How did you both make it so good?

Namjoon, 6:26pm: Y/N respond, you can’t just send a vague fucking text like that and not say anything else, where are you at and what is going on?

You stare at the four hour old text messages from just moments after your initial message in the groupchat. The words bump around as the taxi goes over rough asphalt rounding a corner, but you don’t think of a reply. Too focused on the conversation between you and Jimin that concluded just as the sun was halfway away for the night. You put your phone away in your bag, feeling the car drift to a stop as the reasons for Jimin’s silence repeat in your mind over and over.

So absentmindedly you saunter into the apartment complex, filing into the elevator and clicking the floor number while you try and think of why he would have never told you about his own problems with Yerin. No matter how the sentences repeat, it sounds like he was manipulated into submission as well as you were, yet to the extent of being your enemy in a way. Though you doubted he was actively conscious of the fact for so long, and even so Jimin’s already apologized to you. He’s settled the confusion, so why are you dwelling?

It takes a moment to realize where you are, and with a shake of your head you press your finger into the doorbell, then use the same hand to rub your temples. There’s a piece you can’t connect within yourself, that makes the conversation had so unnatural from how you would assume you’d react. You just sigh, trying to settle down your head before startling at the front door opening.

Yoongi reveals behind the door, simply looking at you for a moment. He steps back to open it wider, “You look like you’re drained.”

“Thanks.” You huff, stepping into his apartment,while frowning at the idea that everyone who has seen you probably thought the same way. You dismiss the thoughts, turning back towards Yoongi, but having to shimmy around once more as he walks off towards his couch. “Yoon-” You start a question out of confusion, but pause as you recall his dismissive exit earlier from the company.

Slowly you step towards the couch after him, watching as he slumps into the corner. You stop short of his lounging legs, head tilting as you watch him rub his face and stifle a groan, “Does your head hurt?” “No,” He laughs at your observation, in a way non judgemental, but genuinely humored by its simplicity. Then Yoongi lets his arms fall to either side of him, while he looks up toward the ceiling, “No. I acted dumb earlier. I’m sorry about it.”

“Well, I messed up our plans for dinner to talk to Jimin. I get why you would be disappointed in me. I’m sure it seemed really weird for me to do.”

“I wasn’t disappointed.” Yoongi speaks flatly, hand toying with the hair most atop his head while continuing to look up towards the ceiling. “When I was talking to Hoseok about it he said I acted like I was jealous.”

You giggle a little, thinking of the implication of the emotion and finding it a bit out of place for Yoongi’s character. From what you’ve learned about him he seems entirely trusting, though not always calm, still understanding enough to know there wasn’t a need when Jimin and you have only a completely collapsed relationship between you both.

Then you wonder about the idea of why you find the need for Yoongi to be jealous to be silly. Why would he find himself jealous about Jimin, and why do you automatically think it’s baseless.

“Did the talk go well?”

“What?” You blurt, looking up from the floor to Yoongi. His head straightens properly to look at you, finding your question strange. His lips frown towards you and then you realize what you’ve said and shake your head, “Oh, yeah.” You shrug, as Yoongi sits up, feet lying flat on the floor.

“What happened?” He asks with narrowing eyes, voice softly concerned that something went wrong because of your scattered disposition. “Did he say something, angel?”

Before his questions register you consider his nickname for you, wondering when he began using it but finding no point of time in particular. “He apologized to me.”

Yoongi notices his heart beat louder than usual, but does his best to ignore the unneeded anxiousness. “For what?”

“He was telling me that he should’ve never been selfish about wanting me to keep being uncredited. Yerin made him think he can’t succeed without all of the construction behind the scenes,” You bite your lip, thinking about the amount of worry he most likely had along with its confliction because you’re sure he truly didn’t want to hurt you through any of the internal issues. “He said he regrets losing him and I because of his fear.”

“Then what’s stopping you both from getting back together again?” Yoongi speaks without filter, but wants to retract every word instantly. The knot in his throat returns, and he wants to stop from hearing whatever you could say. He recalls the concern laced in your eyes upon seeing Jimin earlier and thinks that he doesn’t want the idea of returning to be considered.

But as you look up at him with widening eyes, Yoongi realizes he doesn’t want to get hurt by potentiality. His voice takes over again, “If he had told you then, you’d still be together with him, wouldn’t you?”

“But he didn’t tell me then!” You retort instantly, volume picking up from the insinuation of his words to push you back towards Jimin.

Yoongi stays quiet, watching you with a forming frown as you appear to grow frustrated. He should leave it at this, he should’ve divulge further, but it bothers him still-- that nagging memory of you being unaware that he took his hand from yours earlier, and all of the other instances he’s watched you be heartbroken because of Jimin-- because, “You still love him though.”

Your shoulders visibly lose tension, Yoongi swallows hard at the sight of it. Inhaling a deep breath, you consider his assumption. Consider that you haven’t brought up Jimin in so long only to go out of your way to privately speak with him right in front of Yoongi’s eyes. Consider that you never thought about the direction of your feelings for Jimin after more than a month.

When the memories play over in your head once more, you can say that they still fill you with a bittersweet joy. Thinking of all of the times you spent with Jimin while the two of you were so new to the idol industry, it’s natural to be fond.You were friends with Jimin long before there became the physical relationship, and you’ve cared for him in growing ways ever since you met him.

Jimin isn’t a bad person. And from where you left off with him today, you’re positive towards the idea that he’s changed from the fear in his yelling months earlier at the party. You still believe he’s capable of more than that and seeing whatever comes for him is a warm thought. You still care about him. There has never been a question of your changing care towards Jimin when he played such a large role in your life for so many years, you want what would be best for him.

But as you look on at Yoongi, you can’t find the perspective that he seems to believe about you. The thought never occurred to you, and certainly you can’t pinpoint a day of change, but when you try and consider fixing what has broken between you and Jimin you’re unable to process a way. And when you find Yoongi’s eyes staring straight into yours, you find that you haven’t thought about Jimin through a rose colored lense in awhile.

“No, I don’t.”

Yoongi stays silent, replaying your response in his head quite a few times. His eyebrows narrow, muted disbelief surfacing on his face as he stands from the couch. Your eyes follow his, Yoongi catches the fact as well as your lips tightening into a line, maybe out of surprise for your own words. But before he’s able to think further your head shakes,

“I haven’t for weeks now.” You take a breath, shocking yourself by how you’re able to go on about this despite realizing it only as the words escape, “I did, but I really don’t anymore.” Your hair shakes as you twist your head back and forth, wondering if there was ever a precise moment where your feelings no longer extended towards Jimin.

“I never even thought about the idea that I had stopped,” You laugh at the nonsense of the fact, watching Yoongi’s feet pad forward, eyes evidently concerned to some extent about your ramblings. “It’s so weird-- you’d think I would’ve figured it out sooner, right?” You ignore Yoongi shaking his head to your words. “I don’t know when I stopped, or,”

You let him take your hand into his for comfort, not-believing it would remain for long. But you selfishlessly let the touch linger onwards. Undoubtedly the shock of your conclusions will make Yoongi pull away. There’s time to stop, you think that there’s no reason to shovel out so many of your emotional words at once. It’s impulsive, without calculation for any of the words you’ve said, but you think about the meaning of your last ones. Knowing there should be more tact and grace, or build up that isn’t after the rantings of your ending feelings in your past relationship, but through all of this, the words themselves no longer wish to be kept hidden in the background of your mind, so they flutter out in an exasperated whisper,

“Or when I started having feelings for you.”

if you enjoy please, please let me know via ask, comment, rb with tags– however ! i’d just really appreciate feedback 🥺 i hope you enjoy the series, i’m working really hard on it! : )

tag list (send an ask to be added): @jaiuneamesolitaiire @tsvkino-usagi@xionysus @baebyjoonie @honeyoongles @betysotelo18

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latin-dr-robotnik · 5 years ago

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Sonic’s memento collection (SonAmy prompt)

Prompt suggested by @itsnicky13! It’s been a while since I last picked up and expanded on something that wasn’t... well... tsundere Sonic, and I think this one is a very nice and cute idea to work with!

Prompt goes: what if Sonic dropped the bracelet Amy made for him to wear back in the Sonic X episode “The Last Resort”, and he struggled to tell her how he kept it after all this time, since she always thought the bracelet was lost.

I personally got a lot more excited by the first part of the idea, but I hope you still enjoy it regardless!

“Wait, is that...?” Amy was ready to throw herself back to the battle, but the sight of it stopped her right on her tracks, as she slowly approached the sand covered thing...

“What, Amy? What?” Sonic wasn’t having the time of his life, struggling to fight against the snake-like Aqua Bots that were playing around with his biggest weakness: the sea. He kept running from the beach to the docks and back, yet the bots were untouched, unloading their high-pressure water cannons on him and starting to close up the distance for a quick grab at the wet hedgehog.

Amy reached for the now clearly visible bracelet, feeling a strong mix of emotions as she recalled her memories of the one she once made exclusively for him...

“Oh my... did you really keep it all this time?”

“Amy, we’re in the middle of a battle if you haven’t noticed!”

One Aqua Bot managed to grab Sonic’s legs at the dock, while another was racing towards his left arm, with the hedgehog struggling to break free.

“I can’t believe it, after so long...” Amy murmured, “I thought it was lost... but how...?”

“Amy! A little help over here? Amy!”

“Oh? Yeah, right, the robots.” She quickly snapped back to reality, running towards Sonic at the dock, and throwing her hammer at the Aqua Bots like it was a big, deadly boomerang.

She smashed all of them with one swift throw.

“Aaaaaand... they’re gone.”

“Geez, girl, what took you so long?” Sonic sat down on the dock, shaking his wet quills. “What were you talking about back there?”

Amy sat next to him, staring at the entire Diamond City Bay. She played with her fingers for a bit, still processing what she just found out.

“Sonic, did you really keep it all this time?”

“The what, Amy?”

“My bracelet, you fool!” Amy snapped at him for a moment, before pulling out the old bracelet and quietly reflecting on it. “The one I made for you... you just dropped it during the battle.”

“Ah? Oh! That thing!” Sonic grabbed the bracelet from Amy’s hands, then checked if it was still in one piece. “I must’ve dropped it when the Aqua Bot just poured that big shot of water on me, ha ha!”

“I though it was lost, gone forever... how did you get it back?”

“Uhh... I...” Sonic hesitated for a bit.

“Yeah...?”

He tried to look away from the pink hedgehog looking straight at him with so many questions in her mind. He never actually told her what happened to that bracelet, and now he didn’t know how to explain it.

“I, well... found it... and fixed it... and... stored it back in my collection for a while...”

“OHMYGOSH!” Amy immediately jumped out of emotion, gasping and holding her hands to her chest. “Do you actually have a collection?!”

“Oh, shoot...” Sonic quickly realized his mistake, as Amy’s mind ran wild with the thought of him having lots more things from her than she actually imagined.

“And what does it look like?” Amy asked, following shortly with a rapid streak of more questions. “What cool stuff do you have there? Does anyone else know about it? Why didn’t you tell me before?!”

“Well, I guess I ran straight into this one...” Sonic thought, as he finally accepted it was time to let her enter his life just a little more.

“Alright, I’ll show you.” He let out, defeated.

“Yayyyy!” Amy happily grabbed Sonic’s arm, pulling him up and holding his hands. “C’mon, let’s not waste any more time!”

“Just hold on tight.”

And so, Sonic and a very enthusiastic Amy blasted away from the beach. On the way to Sonic’s secret collection, he kept thinking about it, letting out a couple more details about it to Amy as he carried her on his arms.

“You know... I always had a room at Tails’ place, since that’s where I end up crashing after a long adventure together.” Sonic commented. “For a while, the room was pretty empty, only having the bare essentials for me to chill around, but as I ran across the world, time and space...”

“You started collecting mementos?”

“That’s right. Nobody actually knows about it, so... take it as you will.”

Amy felt very touched by that last bit. “Aww, am I the first person to ever visit your collection? That’s so kind of you!”

She hugged Sonic just a little more tightly, closing her eyes and letting out a little tease. “But at the same time, you should’ve told your girlfriend about it earlier, boy!”

“And now you are pushing your luck.”

She didn’t see it, but Sonic blushed just a little at that comment.

After a running for a while, they reached Tails’ workshop at the Mystic Ruins, their main base. Sonic dropped Amy off at the entrance and quickly ran a lap around the place, realizing Tails wasn’t home. They entered the place from a main door located at the opposite side to where the Tornado’s hangar is, and walked through Tails’ living room. From there, upstairs was the fox’s bedroom, and downstairs was Sonic’s basement.

Sonic’s room was a cozy, well kept and well lit place. Posters of movies and advertisements were found on each wall, with only a couple of shelves holding comic books and videogames in between the myriad of colorful imagery. Behind a particularly large Chao in Space Episode VII poster was a hidden door, leading to an even smaller side-room with nothing but shelves holding all sorts of mementos from Sonic’s past adventures. The room was just big enough to fit both of them walking around with relative ease.

“Alright, here it is. Sonic’s collection.” Sonic introduced Amy with a surprisingly chill attitude, as if he secretly wanted someone to ever visit the place.

Amy was speechless. She took a moment to look around, and then started looking at a shelf on her left, completely ignoring the lonely chest sitting just at the right of the door.

“Wow, you really have everything in here!” Amy exclaimed with excitement. “Hey, that’s the bracelet from that guy... Chip was it, right?”

“Yup.”

“You know...” she reflected, “I was there for you when you spent most of your days trying to help him figure out his identity, right?”

“Well, I always stand for my friends, you know that.”

“Yet you didn’t even show up on time for our date...” Amy was still pretty dissapointed at how things turned out back then. She left the bracelet on the shelf, and then shifted her attention to a jar holding a pretty bright purple sustance in it.

“I wonder what is this stuff... hey Sonic, what’s in the jar?”

Sonic was standing in front of a shelf on the right side of the room, seemingly looking for something in particular, but he turned around to look at what Amy was holding.

“That? It’s the weird jelly-like chemical from the Chemical Plant” He told her, then shifted his tone to a more protective one. “I wouldn’t touch it if I were you.”

“Okay.” Amy followed Sonic’s warning and returned the jar to its place, then she did a slow lap around the room. “You really have made yourself a little personal museum down here, Sonic!”

That’s when she saw the lonely chest, peaking her curiosity.

“And what’s inside this chest?”

Sonic quickly looked at her, then turned away, visibly nervous.

“Uhh, Amy, I wouldn’t open it...”

It was a little too late to convince Amy Rose of all people not to look at something that already caught her attention. She slowly unlocked the old-looking chest, and her eyes widened at the discovery of what was inside.

“Hold on a second, I recognize this stuff...” Amy picked a very well preserved rose. “Isn’t this one the first rose I gave you... way back in Little Planet?” She gasped. “Oh my gosh, it is!”

“Oh, no...” he thought, knowing his biggest secret was finally uncovered.

“And this photo...” Amy chuckled a bit, “oh, you sneaky... you never told me we had a photo entering Twinkle Park!”

He scratched the back of his head and nervously smiled. “Yeah, well... that wasn’t our greatest moment...”

She turned back to him with a big ol’ smile. “I think you never told me because it’s clearly showing YOU chasing after ME! Hee hee!”

“Ha ha. Very funny.” He sarcastically let out, then looked away, once again trying to hide his blushing.

“Oh! And here’s the letter I wrote you when you went off to that weird interstellar amusement park! ...the letter you never replied to.”

Sonic started to feel a little unconfortable with Amy looking at that chest for so long, and so he tried to shift away her attention, possibly even away from the room.

“You know, there’s other interesting stuff to see here, not just from y-you...”

“Hush. I can’t believe you actually have a chest with our memories, Sonic!” Amy kept digging, “had I known about it earlier, I would’ve sent you more stuff!”

“Ah, well, now you know about it, so...” Sonic tried to convince her again, “what do you say we get out of here now? I’m kinda starving now...”

Amy dropped everything and looked at him. “Hmm, did I hear someone asking me out for some ice cream?” She smiled. “Let’s go then!”

They both left the room and Tails’ place. On their way to the ice cream shop. Sonic let out a sigh of relief.

“Well, I’m glad we got out of there...”

"Why, though?” Amy curiously replied.

“Well, let’s just say some things are best left unseen.”

“Okay...” she winked at him, “that just means I’ll spend the night checking on it!”

Sonic awkwardly chuckled, as she happily leaned on his shoulder.

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[You can check more amazing prompts, oneshots and headcanons over at my Special Content section!]

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic prompt #sonamy #sonamy prompt #there was an alternate ending #where amy found out a bright blue ring that rouge gifted sonic #and she pulled her hammer on him #but i thought it was maybe a bit disrespectful to my girl #seeing that type of attitude was what made her an infamous reputation in the first place #i mean it sounded cute and funny on my head #but yeah i think it's better to leave the ending open #i hope you enjoyed it!#the last bit was a little hard to close because i kept adding ideas lol #i already went wayyyy above and beyond the original prompt haha #most of this stuff written here is headcanon material tbh #i even headcanon tails' workshop being wayyyy bigger today than in 1998 #and sonic's memento collection? of course i headcanon it!#maybe not in the exact same way as this #amy rose

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lynenspray · 5 years ago

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wenjoy 02

prompt: Wenjoy smut where wendy is a futa

a/n: this is tiny and short,, since i didnt have details,,, hope u still like it

—

tell me they’re your favorite

(wenjoy gp!wendy service)

wendy breathed out and pumped her cock with her hand, joy looking up at her prettily through her long lashes as she kneeled on the floor, smirk in place, lipstick smudged from when she marked wendy’s thighs with kisses.

the smaller woman stood up from the edge of the bed and gestured to the mattress with a jerk of her chin, joy following her orders with the same expression and lust dancing in her eyes.

I love it when you take control, joy had moaned to her earlier when wendy slapped her length against her cheek. the smaller woman surprised even herself–she didn’t know what took over her, but it felt good. really, really good. and she wanted more of it.

“lay down,” she said as she got back up on the bed. she positioned herself so her body was facing the opposite direction joy’s did, so she could easily lower body down and lick her lover’s pussy the same time the taller woman sucked her dick down.

but not yet.

for now, she only carefully her balls right on top of joy’s waiting mouth and letting out a dreamy breath at the feeling. joy knew how to play her balls so well it was almost criminal. “ah, fuck,” she sighed out, thighs trembling as joy took one fully in her mouth, sucking gently and swirling her tongue around it. wendy was almost melting by the time joy gave her other one the same treatment, treating them like sweet candies and she was a naughty girl that sneaked into the kitchen at midnight.

wendy groaned and shifted forward, one hand on the bed to hold her up while the other reached around her back to pull on one of her ass cheeks, blossoming herself open for joy.

“eat me.”

and joy did so with gusto–if wendy’s sacs were the candies, joy treated wendy’s rim like it was a treasure trove hiding more within it; the candy jar that was worth the wait for midnight and the sneaking around the house. it was dizzying how well joy used her lips and teeth, sucking and biting at the most perfect times and shocking wendy into a state of bliss–almost to the point of cumming right there and then.

so she shifted again with a gasp, slick with sweat and breathing heavily from the worship joy provided her, toes curling from her peek of that incredible high. she maneuvered herself to be facing joy this time, right over her ribs, and joy continued to look up at her with those adoring eyes and that smile on her lips.

“hey, handsome,” joy winked as wendy breathed out a laugh. “fancy seeing you here.”

wendy ran a hand through her hair with an embarrassed grin–joy loved complimenting her like this until she glowed red.

“what are you gonna do to me with that big cock of yours, hm?” the younger woman teased and held onto her breasts, squeezing the cock slotted between them. wendy groaned and rocked against her lover, pleased at the tight hole she made and the words she said: trying to praise her as much as she could. “you’re so big,” joy grinned up at her, and wendy snorted; she was anything but, being barely five inches, but joy loved her and loved to inflate her ego. “are you going to ravish me, handsome? I don’t think I’ll be able to take you on.”

wendy groaned at the friction, deciding to drool out of her mouth and spit on her cock, lubing it up. after she was sure that the friction would be more pleasurable, she started thrusting between joy’s breasts faster, joy gasping when the older woman took hold of her wrists and forced her to make herself tighter and take wendy even higher.

“oh god, you’re so strong,” joy moaned, beyond turned on by the feeling of wendy’s fingers around her wrists, using her. she loved this side of wendy. “fuck, please, fuck me.”

wendy smirked down at her, only to gasp when joy started to move her breasts, adjusting the angles that were hitting her dick, and wendy felt her cock throb with the need to release her load. “n-not yet, baby,” she grunted out, rutting against joy as the woman moaned for her. “I want to paint you with my cum first.”

joy whined at the imagery, all ready to be drowned in cum; wendy wasn’t big but she always had such a big load for her. “please, daddy, cum on me.”

wendy growled, long and low, as she came on her girlfriend, spurting hot streams of white on her chest and chin. wendy whined when she saw how joy opened her mouth and poked a tongue out, wanting to get a taste of her cum.

wendy wasn’t much of a shooter; the rest of her seed was spilling down and around her cock, so instead of letting the fountain drip all over joy’s chest she raised herself up to have her balls, covered in her cream, slurped up by the woman.

“thats it, baby, drink up,” wendy hissed as joy whimpered around her, licking and sucking around her balls and at the base of her shaft, cleaning her up. “you want more of me? want me to fuck you senseless?”

joy moaned from underneath her, a desperate look filling her eyes. “yes, daddy.”

wendy took ahold of her hair and gently sat down on her, muffling joy’s moans and a large part of her face with her balls and softening dick. “lick me clean and maybe I’ll think about it,” she replied, smirking.

#wenjoy #gp!wendy #anon request

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callboxkat · 5 years ago

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These Deep, Dark Woods

Author’s note: Based on a prompt sent by @thebadhalfofafandom: “I need you, I can’t do this without you.” Please read the warnings!

Summary: Logan, a potion maker, decides to head into the notoriously dangerous woods bordering the kingdom to find some rare herbs and minerals for his apothecary. Roman, a knight, insists on accompanying him. They find much more than they bargained for when they encounter Remus, a bloodthirsty giant. Logince. Angst with a happy ending.

Warnings: Blood, injuries, death mention, killing mention, gun mention, mild body horror (it’s Remus), disturbing imagery (it’s Remus), character death, kidnapping, guilt, attempted self sacrifice. Very unsympathetic villain Remus.

Word Count: 4606

Writing Masterpost!

“Come out, come out wherever you are,” a loud, nasally sing-song voice called out. “I know you’re theeerrrre, little bugs!”

Logan caught a glimpse of the speaker through the trees, and couldn’t help but shudder.

The giant had to be at least four times as tall as a human, his skin thick and rough like leather, his eyes glowing an unnatural green. The nightmarish proportions of the thing made it clear that there was troll blood in his ancestry, possibly some ogre as well. The club it hefted easily over his shoulder was fashioned out of a granite boulder, crudely fastened to a tree trunk by a combination of vines, ropes, and barbed wire. Logan could have designed something better in his sleep. But what it lacked in craftsmanship, the weapon made up for in effectiveness.

One good hit, and… Logan shuddered. He didn’t even want to think about it.

He and his companion, Roman, sneaked away through the trees, and pressed themselves against an outcropping of rock, trying desperately not to be spotted. In this endeavor, they were at a bit of a disadvantage, Logan thought, glancing at Roman’s mostly white attire. At least it had gotten dirtied in their escape. Ash and mud streaked across it, dulling the color. It wasn’t much camouflage, but it was better than him running around like a snowman in summer.

“Come on,” Roman hissed, breaking Logan out of his thoughts. He glanced back to make sure that Logan was following him, then began to creep out. He stayed low, crouching among the plants.

“Come on, don’t be that way,” the sickening, horribly loud voice called, echoing through the trees. “Where are you trying to run off to?” He cackled. “Don’t you know what could happen? You could fall and break your legs! You’ll be completely helpless! And then you’d get eaten by birds! Ooh, do you think they’d peck out your eyes first? Or would you get to watch the whole thing?” There was a disturbing amount of wonder in the giant’s voice.

Logan’s heart was in his throat. Neither he nor Roman, for all his usual dramatic theatrics, was foolish enough to respond.

A huge boom! echoed through the forest, a tree some distance away falling with the creak of wood, the snapping of twigs, and the alarm call of a bird foolish enough to get that near to the giant’s striking range.

“At least we know where he is,” Logan whispered. Roman silently nodded.

They made it to the next outcropping. At the base of it was the unmistakable impression of an enormous footprint in the mud. The giant—Remus, as he’d gleefully told them was his name—had been here recently. Probably not long before he’d first captured Logan and Roman.

They’d been foolish, Logan could now recognize. No rare herbs and minerals, no amount of money they’d get for the fantastical potions Logan could create, was worth this. This deep in the forest, the danger far outweighed the risks. Logan considered himself a smart man; he should have known this. He shouldn’t have made this journey. Not for the money, not for the good work his potions could contribute to. He couldn’t help anyone, especially himself, if he was dead. He regretted ever stepping foot in these deep, dark woods.

More than that, Logan regretted that Roman was here with him. He’d mentioned to the knight—a close acquaintance, the closest thing Logan had to a friend—that he was planning to make this journey. And of course, the confident, chivalrous young man had immediately volunteered to accompany him.

Foolishness.

Logan shouldn’t have let him come. Not that Roman could ever be dissuaded from anything once he’d set his mind to it, but Logan could have tried harder. He should have tried harder.

The two of them had walked right into the woods, right into the danger. Logan had collected his supplies; and despite the sky growing dark, he had decided not only to stay, but to go further into the woods to collect some even rarer specimens. Nothing had happened yet, he had reasoned with himself; and he was clever enough to evade any creatures that happened across them. He’d been naïve. Cocky. Arrogant in his assumptions. He was worse than Roman.

Honestly, it was no wonder that they’d been found, late last night, as Logan lay sleeping. Roman had been on watch, his sword at the ready to face any threats; but even together, even with both of them ready for a fight, they would have been no match for Remus.

…

A shout awakened him, jarring in the calm night, ripping Logan out of his dream. He barely had time to scramble out of his bedding, every nerve in his body electrified, before he was yanked right off of his feet. He was grabbed up in enormous fists, each large enough to swallow his entire arm, struggling as he was lifted into the air. He struggled for the dagger in his coat, but he couldn’t get free enough to reach it.

The giant only laughed, his glowing green eyes boring into him as his pungent smell assaulted Logan’s senses and made his head spin. Logan tried to free himself, looking around frantically. He couldn’t hear Roman anymore, where was Roman—?!

Logan couldn’t for the life of him have said what happened next.

The next thing he knew, he woke up in a cave. For whatever reason, he hadn’t been restrained. He was just lying crumpled on the limestone floor, his head ringing, a sticky feeling coating one side of his head. He couldn’t hear out of that ear. He hoped it was just clogged.

The giant was there, of course. The foul-smelling, foul-mouthed giant was only about ten feet away, tending a fire. He threw in a large branch as Logan watched. Sparks and embers flew through the air, the giant making no effort to keep them from landing on his ragged, filthy clothes. One spot near his knee began to smolder.

“This would be so much more fun with two of you, but oh well! Oopsie! Sometimes I don’t know my own strength, you know?” he had said in that horrible, almost nasal voice. He seemed to be addressing someone on his other side, opposite from where Logan was.

Logan took a second to process, then understood. The giant must have thought that Logan was already dead. This was obviously untrue, but Logan could use this to his advantage. He listened with revulsion as the giant cackled and went on about all the fun he was going to have with his new toy—Roman, of course—before returning to the subject of Logan. Logan tensed, at first, hurriedly closing his eyes for fear that the giant would look at him, but that didn’t happen.

“It’s okay. It’s fine,” the giant rumbled. “I bet his bones will make great toothpicks. Sticks just don’t last nearly as long. Ooh, or maybe I can put him in a jar. Like a pickled specimen! Scientists do that kind of thing, right? I can be a scientist! A mad scientist!”

The giant paused, glancing down to his other side again, where Logan couldn’t see. Logan cautiously began to move.

“You know, I don’t get company that often,” the giant pouted, his mood suddenly changing as he frowned down at the ground where Roman must have been. “Nobody stays very long.”

Yeah, I bet they don’t, Logan thought. Although he doubted it was because they escaped. He hoped, perhaps vainly, that he and his companion might be an exception. He started to creep backwards, away from the giant. The gears turned in his mind, trying to come up with a plan. All he knew was that he had to get Roman and get them both away from this giant before it was too late.

“I’m Remus, by the way!” The giant said proudly, putting one of his gigantic, soot-covered hands to his chest. A bracelet of bones rattled on his wrist.

Logan was far enough away that he dared to push himself to his feet, hoping against hope that the giant wouldn’t turn around and be startled to find that his body was not, in fact, lying in a lifeless heap where he’d left it.

“I don’t care about your name,” a voice responded, cracking with anger and something else. “You are nothing but a villain, a foul, malodorous, evil villain who serves no purpose to society except providing something to vanquish!”

Logan briefly reflected that he hadn’t known Roman knew the word ‘malodorous’, let alone how to use it in a sentence. He might have been impressed, under different circumstances. But, more importantly—the knight had spoken. This was both good news, as it proved he was still alive, and very bad news, as provoking a giant who had already captured them was not the most advisable plan in Logan’s opinion.

“Aw, don’t be like that.” The giant swatted the air. “Who cares about society? Isn’t it much more fun to just do what you want? Whatever you want?”

Logan began creeping around the edge of the cavern. He’d gotten this far, but what then? How was he meant to get to Roman?

He needed to distract the giant.

“Those of us who aren’t monsters don’t find killing fun.”

Remus laughed. “Maybe you just haven’t tried it. There’s all sorts of fun ways to do a little killing.”

Logan looked around for any ideas, any inspiration. The cave was empty except for the three of them, the fire, and a pile of what passed for bedding in one corner. Seeing nothing that would help, he looked down at himself, at his dark blue coat. His dagger was still hidden there, by some miracle; but it wouldn’t be of much use now. Logan was more relieved to find that some of his supplies were still on him, judging by the weight of his coat pockets. He wished he had his bag, which held the majority of the herbs and minerals he and Roman had spent the last day collecting, but longing for something he didn’t have only wasted time that he couldn’t afford to spend. He hurriedly looked through his pockets, and his eyes widened as he came across a pouch tied with a red string. Perfect.

Emboldened, Logan crept closer to the giant. To the fire. To Roman.

And he threw the pouch, right into the flames.

There was a brief pause. The giant let out a confused sound, poking at the pouch with a stick.

“Maybe the ceiling’s coming down!” he said cheerfully, apparently thinking it was a rock. “We’ll be crushed like bugs!”

“Greeaaat,” Roman said, in a voice that made it clear he did not find this idea ‘great’.

Logan covered his ears, just in time. The fire exploded. The powder combusted almost instantaneously, throwing sparks and sending the flames flaring about ten feet higher. The giant let out a startled shout and clapped his hands to his ears, jumping to his feet and nearly crushing Logan in the process.

Logan hardly noticed. He was already running full tilt towards Roman. The knight was tied up like an insect in a spider’s web, ropes wrapping around him in a cocoon. There was a bruise on his face, but he didn’t seem too badly hurt. His eyes widened, his mouth falling open in shock and joy at seeing the potion maker.

“I thought you were dead,” he said, just a little bit too loud. Logan paid him no mind, glancing over to make sure that the giant was still preoccupied with getting his fire back under control. He kept saying something about burning, but Logan didn’t care to hear more detail. As long as he was distracted, that was all Logan cared about.

Logan tugged at the ropes, then shook his head, snatching his dagger from his coat. He unsheathed it and slashed neatly through ropes, careful not to cut Roman as he did so; and he yanked the other to his feet. They ran.

…

“FEE, FIE, FOE, FUM!” the giant called, slamming his feet down on the ground with each step. “Come on out and let’s have some fun!”

No, thank you, Logan thought. He was very much not interested in this giant’s brand of “fun”.

He and Roman were running through the forest, uncertain and almost uncaring if they were going in the right direction or not. They couldn’t see the sky, blocked by all the trees, and they didn’t have time to find a clearing. Logan didn’t even know what time it was, anyway. Their timepieces were long gone, left at the campsite the Remus had invaded, and Logan wasn’t sure how long he had been unconscious. Logan had his hand fastened in Roman’s coat, not wanting to get separated. Whenever the giant paused to listen, the forest was eerily quiet save for his and Roman’s footsteps and panting. Logan hoped the monstrosity’s hearing wasn’t as magnified as his size.

Logan wondered if the giant was the reason why he and Roman hadn’t encountered any other beasts in this part of the woods. No wolves, bears, or even the more supernatural monsters. It seemed the giant drove them all away simply by existing. Or perhaps he had simply killed them all already.

“Come on, come on,” Roman panted. Not a moment later, the knight’s foot caught on something—whether it was a tree root or a rock, Logan would never know—and they both went down, sent sprawling in the brambles. Logan coughed, his already sore head spinning. He got to his feet, looking down to where Roman lay, rubbing a fresh bruise on his temple, practically on top of the one already there. He looked dazed.

“Aha!!” the giant cried. Logan’s blood turned to ice.

“Let’s go,” Logan said, reaching out a hand. His breath came in short gasps.

Roman blinked slowly, then shook his head to clear it. “Yeah—yeah, let’s go.”

Logan hauled him to his feet, and they were off again. Their feet were clumsy, and Logan distantly realized that his head wound had reopened, leaving a trail of blood droplets in their wake.

If they could just get out of the woods, they would be fine. No supernatural creature dared face the settlement’s protections. The walls and protective enchantments, the sentries with rifles and swords and bows and arrows at the ready, the promise of a swift end to any monster who dared approach, were all effective deterrents to any threat. They just had to get there.

But Logan’s vision was growing fuzzy. The world passed by in a blur, going in and out of focus without his control. His grip slipped on Roman’s jacket, but he fastened it back on with a renewed determination.

Even despite the adrenaline coursing through their veins, their desperation to escape, to live, Roman’s and Logan’s injuries and exhaustion were clearly getting to them. Their pace slowed. It slowed, it slowed, it slowed. Logan tried to keep going, one hand pressed to his head, the other holding on to Roman, but he couldn’t increase his pace no matter how hard he tried. He felt lightheaded, his limbs not listening to the commands his mind screamed at them.

He stumbled, and he fell.

“Logan!”

He was up again, they were hurrying through the trees—were they growing sparser? He couldn’t say for sure—and Logan hardly knew where to run. Roman led him on, an arm around his back.

A snap. A laugh.

The giant appeared, off to their left. His poisonous green eyes took up all of Logan’s fading vision. He swallowed the bile rising in his throat.

“There you are! Oh, there you are! My new friends!”

Logan had never been so disgusted at the idea of being called a “friend”.

“I missed you,” the giant whined, heedless of the fact that Roman and Logan had both stepped back, Roman stumbling slightly even as he helped Logan keep his balance. “But I’m afraid I have to kill you now.” He raised his club, his lips cracking apart into a gray-toothed grin. “Don’t worry! It’ll be exciting! It’ll be so fun; you’ll be like meat pancakes!”

With that grisly thought, the giant brought down the club.

Logan felt himself being yanked backwards and heard a loud crack, but the pain that exploded in his right leg drowned out any coherent thought. He lay on the ground, the wind knocked out of him, crying out in agony as he held onto his leg. Tears of pain sprung up in his eyes.

“Get back!” The voice forced itself into Logan’s awareness, slicing through the fog of pain that hung there.

Roman. That was Roman.

He forced himself to focus on the sight before him. The giant’s club lay on the ground, the boulder separated from the broken tree trunk by the force of it slamming into the earth. Roman stood between Logan and the giant, wielding a weapon that seemed pathetically small in comparison—Logan’s dagger, when had he gotten that?—and staring down the beast.

The giant laughed and stepped forward. There was a burning smell in the air. Was that from Logan’s concussion, or the giant?

Certainly the giant, he decided, taking in the crumbling black edges of the giant’s robes, the missing patch of hair. Logan’s makeshift bomb had apparently caused more damage than he’d foreseen, but not enough. Not nearly enough.

Roman slashed the giant across the palm, which was about as effective as a deep papercut. Regardless, the giant yelped and stepped back, rubbing at his hand with a wounded look.

“That’s not very nice,” he said. “I was just trying to crush you!”

Logan’s leg was definitely broken. He couldn’t move his foot, could barely bear to look at the leg. Roman glanced back at him for a split second, his face blanched white, making the bruises stand out all the more vividly.

“Oh, you’re alive!” the giant cried, seeming to notice Logan for the first time as he followed Roman’s gaze. “I get to kill you twice! That never happens!”

“And it won’t!” Roman declared.

This was madness. Roman couldn’t save Logan from the giant. He couldn’t even walk! Roman should get out of here!

But he couldn’t, Logan reflected, even alone, unless Logan did something. Roman needed an opportunity to escape with his life, to escape from Logan’s foolhardy decisions. Logan could provide that, as a sort of apology for bringing him on this doomed quest.

Logan looked around. There were a few more outcroppings of rock around, more trees. More of the same. He patted at his pockets, at the meager supplies that had survived their capture and desperate rush through the woods, looking for something, anything that would help. His hands brushed past a bundle of leaves and closed on another packet of powder. This one was nothing special. It wouldn’t cause an explosion, or knock out the giant, or anything like that. But… it might provide another distraction. If used correctly.

Logan swallowed thickly.

“Hey, Re—Remus?” he called out. His voice sounded strange to his own ears. “I have something to show you. You’ll… you’ll like it. It’s… nasty, and gross. Just like you.”

Remus narrowed his eyes warily, sensing a trick, but the promise of seeing something as nasty and gross as himself clearly won him over. He crouched down, getting so close that Logan could feel his rancid breath blow back his hair, drying the blood on his face. “Show me,” he crooned.

“Of course.” Logan threw the packet as hard as he could, and it exploded in the monster’s face. Remus howled, rearing back, clawing dust from his eyes.

Roman took his cue. But—no! Roman was hauling Logan back to his feet, heaving him upright with his hands under his arms. That wasn’t how this was supposed to go!

He was being dragged through the forest, beating against Roman’s arms, crying out that Roman should leave him behind, save himself! He pounded on Roman’s chest, his legs, whatever he could reach, angry that he was too weak to fight the knight off.

“I can’t even walk!” he protested.

“But I can!” Roman said. “I can walk for both of us! Dammit, Logan, I am not leaving you here to die! I—I need you! I can’t do this without you!”

Logan’s protests stuttered to a halt. What on earth could that mean? Why would Roman need him? They were just… just close acquaintances—they talked, they saw each other around quite a lot, he supposed, Roman always needing some kind of poultice or potion for a training injury, or Logan running into the knight on his patrol while he ran errands, but they weren’t friends, let alone anything closer. They didn’t need each other. Did they?

And what exactly couldn’t Roman do without him? He could surely escape without him. The logical thing to do would be to leave Logan behind, allow the giant to capture him, and use the time this gave him to escape. That had been Logan’s plan. Hastily thrown together or not, it should have worked. But Roman clearly didn’t intend to follow it.

Finally realizing that fighting Roman would only result in them both getting killed, the injured potion maker gave in. Roman’s stubbornness wouldn’t let him give up on his decision to save Logan, however rash and reckless. So, Logan did his best to run. His broken leg was completely useless, and his head was spinning, but with him hopping along, and Roman’s support, they made progress.

The giant roared obscenities behind them, crashing erratically through the trees, and proved to be an excellent motivator for them to keep going.

Logan wasn’t sure how long they ran. Time slipped between his fingers, his vision fading and coming back into focus at odd intervals. The only constants were the fear, the feeling of Roman’s arm wrapped around him, and the agony of his leg as it dragged along behind him.

After a while, Logan felt like he was floating, tethered to his body like a kite on a string.

“There it is!” Roman said. “Do you see it? There’s the tree line. We’re almost there, buddy. Just a little further!”

“Almost there, buddy,” Logan echoed, the words slurring.

Maybe he was hallucinating, but Logan thought he saw blue sky up ahead, between the trees. A castle in the distance. He could have sworn he heard a horse whinnying. There weren’t horses in the woods.

Roman was shouting something, but Logan couldn’t understand the words.

Crashes sounded behind them. Angry shouts. Something fell heavily just behind him, shaking the ground and Logan’s fragile hold on reality.

He thought he heard more voices. The screech of metal on metal. Hoofbeats. Maybe even gunfire. Was that real? Or was it just the result of the last misfires of his dying brain trying to make sense of what was happening to it?

Logan’s vision faded to black.

…

Logan peeled open his eyes. He found himself laying down, facing upwards. A stone ceiling was above him, dust motes spinning in the golden light illuminating the pale gray stones. His sore head throbbed in time with his heartbeat.

Logan turned his head, wincing at the soreness in his neck. The bandages wrapped around his skull made a soft sound as they shifted against his pillow.

There was a gasp. “Does my favorite nerd stir? You’re finally back in the land of the living!”

Roman sat in the bed beside Logan’s, shirtless, a young woman applying a poultice to a pattern of dark bruises across his rib cage. His ankle was propped up on a pillow, wrapped up in bandages. His face was still bruised, his lip scabbed where it had been split; but his green eyes—a soft, moss green, not at all like the sinister glow of the giant’s—were bright.

Logan tried to say something, but the words caught in his throat, and he started coughing. The woman—Valerie, Logan remembered her name was, a doctor who frequented his apothecary—quickly reached for a glass of water on the table between the two beds.

“Careful now,” she said. “Have some water.”

She lifted the glass to Logan’s lips, and he drank, forcing his heavy arms to respond and help hold the drink steady. The cool water felt heavenly on his dry tongue and throat.

“Better?”

Logan nodded. “Thank you,” he managed.

Valerie smiled. “No problem at all.” She asked a few orienting questions, which Logan answered, then glanced towards Roman, who was looking at her meaningfully. “I’ll… leave you two alone for a moment, then, unless you need something?”

“No, thank you, doctor,” Logan said. “I will be fine for a moment.”

“Alright, then. I’ll be back to check on you later.”

Once she was gone, Roman left his bed and limped over to Logan’s to help him sit up. Logan couldn’t help but look down at himself, even though he feared what he would find. His leg was splinted and heavily bandaged. But at least it was still there. And the two of them were still alive.

“They say you’ll probably need a cane,” Roman admitted, following his gaze. “We’ll get you a nice, stylish one. People will think it’s just part of your whole apothecary vibe.”

“How long have I been asleep?” Logan asked, frowning.

“A couple of days. Ever since the giant….” he shuddered. “Anyway. You’ve got a concussion—twinsies—and you lost a lot of blood. But Valerie says that you shouldn’t have any kind of permanent damage, other than the limp. And for now, you get to take some killer pain meds. I’m almost jealous.”

“I’m sorry,” Logan said.

Roman knitted his eyebrows together. “What? Why are you sorry?”

“You’re hurt because of me,” Logan pointed out. “It was my plan to go into the woods. My plan to fetch those supplies, even knowing the risks—”

“You didn’t know about that giant.”

“I knew about the monsters in the woods. I knew that the sentries and the walls and the enchantments were there for a reason. I knew that it was dangerous.”

“Logan.”

“You could have died, because of me—”

“But I didn’t,” Roman said, holding up a hand to stop him. “I am very much still alive.”

Logan sighed. He picked at the thin wool blanket lying across his lap. “And the giant, then, it’s…?”

“Dead,” Roman assured. “As dead as we would have been if you didn’t distract him so we could get out of there. As dead as you would have been if I hadn’t—gods, Logan, why did you want me to leave you behind? Did you really think I’d ever do something like that to you? You’re my—” he cut himself off, the tips of his ears reddening.

Logan watched him for a moment. Then, cautiously, he spoke. “Roman, you asked the doctor for a moment alone with me. May I ask why?”

Roman was silent for a moment. Finally, he looked up at him, staring at him with those soft green eyes. Logan’s breath was short, although he wasn’t quite sure why.

Roman hesitated, looking up at the ceiling. He swallowed, as if to steel his resolve. “Because… we need to talk.”

Logan watched him for a long moment. Roman stared back at him in silence. Something settled in his chest. Something that, perhaps, Logan had been denying for a long time.

Yes, Logan thought. Maybe they did need to talk.

Now with a companion piece, Those Long, Lonely Nights, and an illustration that takes place a year after TDDW.

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downinmybeastheart · 5 years ago

Text

Candle Cove Headcanons: Episodes, Disturbing Moments, and Other Details

Some more about the show itself!

Plot and Setting

Due to a lack of budget and the fact the audience is young kids, there isn’t much of a complex background to this show. Still, there’s a good deal of detail.

Candle Cove itself refers to, well, a cove, but also the neighboring coastal town. The cove gets its name from a myth about its past.

Horrific beasts once plagued the waters, and at night they would crawl up onto the beach and wreak havoc on land. At this point there wasn’t much of a town yet, more of a humble little settlement, so the creatures caused a good deal of damage. One night, a girl was awoken by a strange noise in her house, and when she went to find the source, it turned out one of the smaller creatures had gotten into her house! However, the candle she held scared it off. She chased it out, and in the morning she told others what had happened.

The people were skeptical, but they needed the monsters to go away, so that night everyone lit candles. They put them in the windowsills, right on their doorsteps, some even stuck theirs in the sand of the beach. Sure enough, the monsters did not come.

While it is treated more like a fairy tale now, the town still has a tradition of lighting candles during certain holidays and tough times. The cove itself also has a few big candles that burn during the night, to act as a lighthouse of sorts and to ward of the “monsters”, whether real or not.

As for the plot: the first episode has Janice arrive in Candle Cove. From here, she meets Percy, the Laughingstock, and Horace (Skin-Taker is introduced after a few episodes). From there on out, the episodes usually have a very similar format: Percy and Janice are looking for treasure/exploring/helping out/etc, a one-shot character for that episode asks for help or otherwise interferes with something, Horace gets involved, and Janice and Percy save the day after some antics. Overall that’s the plot, but the episodes are fairly good at mixing up the concept and keeping it interesting.

The show’s plot also seems linear, with previous characters showing up and changes remaining permanent like half the time.

Some Notable Episodes

(Names are TBA, suggestions welcome!)

Janice and Percy meet a mermaid with a beautiful singing voice. Horace also finds out about her and tries to kidnap her. Not only must the two heroes save her, but they must find a keepsake she lost.

While out exploring, Percy is pricked by an incredibly poisonous’s plants thorn. He falls ill, and Janice finds out there is only one person who can help them now... the Skin-Taker. This episode takes place mid-series.

The Laughingstock is injured during a storm, and the group find themselves stranded on a tropical island. Here, the meet a pirate who was missing for years. Now, he has dubbed himself the Banana King, and rules over a kingdom of small banana-loving humanoids. Percy and Janice get him to help, and antics ensue. This is an early episode, and the Banana King shows up a few other times.

Another later episode involves a volcano on the Banana King’s island about to erupt, and a sacrifice must be made!! Human? No, bananas! A race to save the island begins as Janice, Percy, the Banana King, and the civilians pull a cart full of bananas to the top of the volcano. Things go awry when the Skin-Taker and Horace show up with plans to disrupt the procedure.

Janice gets a new pet!... a weak baby bird(?) she found washed ashore. Percy thinks of what to do while Janice tries bonding with her new “friend”.

Janice sneaks into the Skin-Taker’s base to find something, and learns more about her adversary along the way.

Poppy, a semi-famous pirate, visits Candle Cove! He brags to Janice and the townsfolk about all his adventures, all while teasing Percy for his wimpiness. He even claims to have defeated the Skin-Taker, even being the reason why he’s only bones! However, this and many of his other tales are lies, and when word gets around to Skin-Taker, well... things go south.

Disturbing episodes and moments

Overall, the show feels rather...off. Whether it’s intentional or due to the poor budget, the show has a lonely and foreboding atmosphere. The show’s sets and soundtrack were minimalistic and empty. The cheap puppets and props didn’t help, especially because some like Pirate Percy and the Skin-Taker definitely fall into the uncanny valley. Many plot lines were also morbid.

While some episodes were fine besides the aforementioned weirdness, the others are all disturbing. Some have dark plots, others have frightening imagery, and some are just surreal and baffling. Some are also rather sad.

To be more specific

In one of the above episodes, where Janice takes in a somewhat mangled baby bird, the puppet for said bird is rather creepy. It’s rubbery with fades colors, and made with a bit too much effort. The gimmick for that episode was, Janice would do something with the bird, and whenever she introduced it to someone or talked to it, it would cut to a shot zoomed in on the bird lying motionless, all music suddenly silent. Then, she would go about like it answered her or whatever. Perhaps it was meant to be funny, but it’s rather jarring and the bird is hard to look at.

Also, the episode in which Percy is poisoned is distressing because of Janice’s horrified and incredibly genuine reaction to her friend’s condition. Near the end, when it seems Percy has died, she is sobbing very hard, and continues to cry when he is saved, hugging the pirate tightly. This is upsetting to both kids and people who wouldn’t expect such an extreme reaction. Even the Skin-Taker of all people becomes serious and solemn, as if his actor/puppeteer was at a loss for words himself.

The Skin-Taker and the episodes with him are all rather frightening. He is very clearly dangerous and malevolent, and has caused tragedy and peril onscreen. He’s even killed some characters, and can be very cruel to both Horace and the protagonists.

For an occasional gag, many of the characters will react wildly to a bad or shocking thing, with the camera zooming in on them as they shout and gesture in a very exaggerated way. This is probably supposed to be comical, but it’s just awkward and out of place. After Skin-Taker’s infamous “to grind your skin” line, the camera cuts to Janice’s reaction, a rather silly wide eyed scream as she runs to hide behind Percy in an obviously acted out manner. Once again, not all that disturbing but it can be seen as uncomfortable.

Janice’s actress sometimes appears uncomfortable or even upset for a moment, even when it’s not prompted. Some of her reactions to the perilous situations are acted out while other times she is genuinely panicked. Probably expected from a low budget show with a child actress, but jarring nonetheless. One would think they’d have another take, unless the budget or time was really that nonexistent.

Throughout the series, especially in the later episodes, Horace’s change in personality is certainly one of the more morbid aspects of the series. Initially introduced as a fairly intimidating pirate, the Skin-Taker’s introduction makes Horace out to be not that bad in comparison. While already somewhat comically before, from there on he’s seen as a fairly comical villain. However, as the Skin-Taker appears more and more, Horace finds himself in more high stakes. His character becomes somewhat more evil even as he is treated less seriously than the Skin-Taker. Despite the writers trying to portray Horace in a humorous way, his reactions to failure become more angry every time, and he becomes more neurotic.

This reaches a turning point in the volcano episode, where his mustache is singed off. He freezes up and faints, only showing up right at the end of the episode, appearing to have given up for good. The last shot of the episode is a rather restless and defeated Horace storming off into the night. He does not show up for an episode or two, and the episodes he does appear in from there are at least one of the three final episodes.

The first episode after this doesn’t acknowledge what happened, but the episode after that has everyone notice he has been gone longer than usual. The episode has a very foreboding tone, and while the three final episodes cannot be found, a handful viewers remember something bad happened to Horace.

Reception, Reputation, and other notes

Candle Cove’s existence is very obscure, but those who’ve watched it or heard of it have a good deal of interest in it.

Its viewers agree the show was odd and creepy, but while some dislike it or were scared of it, others still manage to look back on it fondly.

Both old and new “fans” often try to find any information about the show, and go about uncovering what little of it was saved.

There are many theories about the show, especially the “Screaming” episode, and the three-part finale, as well as the nature of the show.

After one forum user’s mother recalled that the show was just static, different reasons as to why surfaced. Some are more plausible than others.

There’s a handful of people who haven’t seen the show, but have taken an interest in its concept and started their own little fandom.

As for the Screaming Episode, not much is known about it, but those who saw it and/or the final three episodes seem to agree that unless it is the true finale, it didn’t really fit into the plot anywhere. It just aired and was never brought up again. There are many theories, but nothing can be confirmed or debunked.

#kidnapping mention tw #candle cove creepypasta #candle cove headcanons #candle cove #headcanons #horace horrible #janice candle cove #janice #pirate percy #pirate percy candle cove #skin taker #the skin taker #creepypasta #kris straub #long post cw #long post

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heungtanbts · 6 years ago

Note

“I’m really sorry to bother you, but i just spilled an entire can of paint all over the floor and my apartment’s getting inspected in an hour.” + taehyung (not sure if this is too specific akdks sorry)

drabble #1 - clean up on aisle — err, in unit 602.

“So… this is where the blue ooze is coming from.”

He stood at your doorway, surprisingly nonchalant, filling up the rectangular frame with his red checkered pajama-clad stature, like you had disturbed his sleep or something, even though it was only 7PM and that clearly was not the case. Taehyung, your insanely handsome neighbor who lived in the unit below you and always managed to make your heart stutter with his boxy smile and easy-going charm whenever you were graced with the opportunity to share an elevator with him. There he was, standing in your apartment unit, running a hand through his electric blue hair that stood out as a stark contrast to his sleep wear (but coincidentally matched the “blue ooze” he was speaking of), not even realizing what he was doing to you and your poor, weak heart. Just like you had always imagined. Because you had daydreamed about this moment a lot, but not happening like this. Never like this.

“It-it’s paint.” You managed to choke out.

“I mean, I figured the ooze wasn’t Avatar blood but it sure looked like it. Felt like I was in a horror movie, watching it drip down from my ceiling.” Taehyung faked a shiver, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. He peeked over your shoulder at the smooth, untouched puddle of cerulean “ooze” sitting in the middle of your living room.

“You know, usually people paint their walls and ceilings, not their hardwood floor.” You’d think he’d be more surprised and upset by this predicament (you certainly were), but from the look of amusement and curiosity on his face, you would argue he was rather enjoying all of this.

“I-I can explain.” You felt your cheeks and ears burn even more, but there really was no time for embarrassment. “Not now, later.”

If he wasn’t surprised earlier, he certainly was when you suddenly pulled at his arm and nearly dragged him into your unit, the door shutting behind him as he tripped his way into your living room.

“Uh, sure ____, I’d love to come in for a cup of tea, thanks for asking?” Taehyung sputtered. Normally you wouldn’t be this bold but desperate times called for desperate measures. You needed help, period. Still holding his arm, you hastily pushed a side table out of the way to bring the both of you right to the edge of the ominous (and growing) circle of paint. You whirled around to face him.

“I’m sorry Tae, I just- you know the landlord’s running inspections tonight and when I looked out, I saw that he’s almost done with the 5th floor which mean he’s coming up here next and I didn’t mean to start this paint job today, I just wanted to see just how blue this ‘seaside blue’ was because can you really trust those paint catalogs thingies? But after I opened the can, I turn my back for literally 1 minute and my stupid cat Yellow thought it’d be funny to fucking knock it over and now it’s all over the floor and it’s even seeped down into your unit-“

“Whoa whoa hang on, slow down.” Taehyung clasps a hand on your shoulder, and only then do you realize you’ve been breathing rapidly and talking his ear off at a mile a minute. His grip felt strong, warm, comforting. Of course it was the right time to admire his hand strength, perfectly appropriate. “Your cat’s name is Yellow?”

You sigh quickly and dramatically, waving your hand dismissively in the air. “Yes his name is Yellow, it’s a long story, Tae please just help me! I already broke one of the washing machines last month, Mr. Lee is going to seriously skin me alive if he finds out I managed to screw something else up.”

Taehyung raised a beautifully thick eyebrow at that. “You were the one who broke the washing machine? But I heard a fork got caught in it, how did you-“

“I’ll explain it all later, Tae, I swear!” At this point you were exasperated. You could practically hear Mr. Lee’s footsteps traveling from room to room on the floor below, and this unwanted man-made aqua lagoon was only growing larger. With that anxiety-inducing mental imagery in mind, you wildly gestured to the obnoxious blue polka dot on the ground. “Please,” you begged, “any ideas on how to get rid of this?”

Taehyung paused, his stare fixated on the paint as he rubbed at his chin thoughtfully. Your own eyes followed his and trailed over the giant blue pimple on your floor. So you didn’t catch him stealing glances at you, biting his lip to hide his amusement. What a quirky girl, and what a situation.

“Well, lucky for you I happen to be quite experienced in this field.” You already felt a question forming at your lips as he continued, swiftly cutting you off. “But we’re gonna need a Swiffer, a dust pan, some rags, a couple of lemon, and a hair dryer.” You weren’t sure you even wanted to know where he was getting all of this. Taehyung rolled up his pajama sleeves and cracked his knuckles, beaming at you with that charming rectangular smile of his. He looked so confident, and Mr. Lee was practically knocking at your door — you had no other choice but to trust him and his “experience.”

“Let’s get moving, sis!”

— — —

An hour later, you and Taehyung were sprawled out on your sofa, Mr. Lee come and gone, an invisible check mark bestowed upon your apartment unit, your hair dryer still plugged in and lying on your spotless floor just a few feet away, a pile of squeezed lemons filling up your living room’s mini garbage can, and both your palms just slightly tinted blue, only truly noticeable if you squinted hard enough. You had your doubts but you had to admit, Taehyung really came through for you. Though it turned out he googled these remedies when he spilled some of his oil paint on his hardwood floor a couple months back. And that was when you learned that his hobby was landscape painting. Could the man be any more perfect?

You took in a deep, calming breath, staring up at your blank white ceiling. “Thank you so much Tae, I seriously could not have survived this without your help.” Turning your head to the side, you found him already staring back at you, your stomach doing summersaults just from his pointed gaze and how his eyes seemed to sparkle, even with your shitty apartment lighting. He smiled, giving you a thumbs up.

“Google, my friend, google.”

You nod in agreement, finally finding the peace and ability to smile again. Taehyung slowly sat up and stretched his arms out, a sliver of his stomach peeking out as if to tease you. How rude, seriously. You needed to say something and distract yourself before he could notice you oggling at him like a starved woman.

“How can I thank you for all your help, Tae? Because seriously whatever it is, it’s on me. Just please don’t ask me to paint your walls or something. Too soon, too soon.” You pretended to shudder, a giggle leaving your lips and Taehyung had to fight the urge to take that melodious sound and store it away in a jar for a rainy day. Cute, just too cute.

“Hmm,” he pondered, a smile already reappearing on his lips. He paused just a moment longer, but you had a feeling he was just doing it for dramatic effect. For whatever he was about to propose. “You free tomorrow? It is Saturday, after all.” You offer another nod, his eyes lighting up instantly. “Then come model for me.”

The shock and horror was evident in your expression and just as you were about to wave both of your hands frantically in rejection, he laid a warm hand on top of yours, effectively sending a pleasant electric jolt up your arm. “I’m usually only drawn to landscape pieces, but now I think I want to give oil-based portraits a shot.

You gulp audibly. “N-now you do?”

Taehyung‘s lips curl upward in response, and he shifted his weight forward to stand up from the couch as you automatically followed suit. You followed him to the door where he slipped on his house slippers.

“Does 1PM sound okay? I want there to be enough natural lighting. Also you can come fully dressed in whatever clothes you want.”

Your eyes widened. “I mean, I wasn’t planning on coming naked-“

Taehyung offered you a playful wink, “Just making sure you knew.”

All you could do was bite your lip and nod vigorously like a bobble head, not trusting your voice to help save you from any further embarrassment. You internally vowed to start doing more cardio workouts because curse your racing heart for failing you like this.

“Alright, sounds good.” You managed to get out, despite the sudden nervousness. “Thanks again, Taehyung. You’re a lifesaver.”

Taehyung stepped out into the hall, pausing to turn back just enough to make eye contact with you. “Tae,” he corrects you quietly, “I like it when you call me Tae.”

That was it. Full-on cardiac arrest. Just like that. Curse you, Kim Taehyung, curse you.

send in a dialogue prompt + bts member for this drabble game!

#this was a cute prompt ty!!#taehyung #v #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts smut #bts #drabble game #bts texts

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impracticaldemon · 6 years ago

Text

Sake for Saito

by impracticaldemon for Saichifest 2019 Day 3 (Birthday!) Prompt Words: ~ 2700 (was supposed to be 500, but who am I kidding)

Author’s Note: This is a romp, pure and simple. Happy birthday to my dearest Chibi Saitô! With major appearances from Souji and Harada. Also: Lamp-san. Drunkeness. I think Souji spiked Saito’s drink.

Sake for Saitô

“You think so too, don’t you Sano-san?”

Harada tilted a quizzical eyebrow at the green-eyed man slouched against a wooden pillar nearby, but didn’t answer. ...Although he had a fair idea what Souji was getting at. In the courtyard below, Saito was methodically slicing apart cylindrical practice dummies with deceptive ease, the three-foot steel blade barely slowing as it passed through the tightly packed straw and knotted cord. Not far beyond him, somebody wearing a pink kimono had stopped sweeping the flagstones to watch.

“Do you suppose the others have noticed?” Okita continued, as if the tall red-head had responded in the affirmative to his first question.

Harada shrugged noncommittally. So they were talking about Saito’s interest in Chizuru-chan. He’d thought he was the only one who’d paid attention to the unusual care the reticent captain took around the girl, and the way that he allowed her to invade his privacy. Saito had a knack for making himself sort of... invisible... when he didn’t want people’s company, but Chizuru could always find him.

Mind you, it shouldn’t be a surprise that Souji was aware - the First Division Captain was extremely observant, and he was closer to Saito than he was to anyone, even if the bulk of their interactions involved sparring, joint patrols, and silence on the part of Saito. Souji adored Kondou-san, but Saito was the person he treated most as a friend and a - Harada searched for the right word - a peer.

“Hijikata-san might have an idea,” he told Souji at last. “You know how he is - he’ll curse you up and down, but behind it all he worries a lot.”

Okita snorted derisively. “Well, he wouldn’t have to worry so much if he could learn to take a joke - or just lighten up in general. One of these days he’s going to snap, and start stomping around the compound telling people to cut themselves open for the crime of enjoying life.”

“He can get a little too intense,” Harada conceded, trying not to laugh out loud at Okita’s vivid imagery. Souji’s latest prank had involved a distressingly identifiable caricature of Hijikata shouting ‘If you have time for fun, then you have time for work!’ and ‘Mother knows best!’ Shinpachi was still snickering over it, and Harada suspected that Heisuke had somehow saved the original copy and stowed it in his futon. (With Heisuke’s luck, Hijikata would find it there, but Harada had already made plans to search the younger captain’s room that evening while he was out on patrol.)

“Point is, it’s Hajime-kun’s birthday today.”

“Okay - yeah, you’re right, now that I think about it.”

“And he’s trying to avoid a party, as usual. Not that he minds going out drinking, he just doesn’t like being the centre of attention.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And Vice Commander Grumpypants has his fundoshi in a twist over something and won’t allow us to go out to Shimabara tonight, not even for his favourite boy.”

“Gee, I wonder who pissed him off... Souji.”

“No idea - not like it takes much. Besides, Shinpachi’s right - he’s being way harder on us than he is on those kiss-ups that Itou brought with him.”

“Mm-hm.”

There was a break in the conversation, such as it was, as both men stopped to watch a new development in the scene in the courtyard. Chizuru had come forward with a folded cloth, and appeared to be trying to give it to Saito. Saito looked surprised - which was saying something - and then there was a very quiet conversation that Harada and Okita couldn’t hear, followed by Saito gingerly touching the cloth to his forehead before tucking it around his neck, under his scarf. Chizuru was beaming.

“Bet you a jar of sake that he’s blushing.”

“No bet. Geez, Souji, who do you take me for? Although I admit it’s kind of a weird concept.”

“Seriously. I suppose she made him a towel or something. Okay, but listen to me - I need you to help me out.”

“Oh?” Harada eyed him warily. Souji was smart, and a damn good swordsman and officer, but they didn’t always see eye-to-eye on where to draw the line between funny and malicious. On top of which, Souji just about never asked for help with anything, so this was either serious, or dangerous, or both.

“Kondou will let us have extra sake at dinner to celebrate Hajime-kun’s birthday, and Chizuru-chan is planning to make Saito a wonderful tofu meal - if such a thing exists, now that I’m not allowed to add extra flavour. But I was thinking that maybe you could touch base with that friend of Chizuru-chan’s - the one Hajime-kun knows, because he helped her out or something? Didn’t you take Chizuru-chan to see her one time?”

“I could try, but why on earth--”

:”Because I think it would be a lot of fun to see his reaction if we get Chizuru-chan all dressed up as a girl to serve his meal and pour his sake. As a birthday present, of course. But anyway, I’m not allowed to go out much right now thanks to Hijikata-san either babying me, or yelling at me, so...”

Harada stared at him. He agreed with Souji that Saito had feelings for Chizuru, although exactly what Saito felt and how deeply was something of a mystery. He also agreed that Chizuru was attracted to Saito, although that idea bothered him a bit, for reasons he had no intention of sharing with Souji, assuming Souji hadn’t already figured that out too. But regardless of his own feelings, he wasn’t sure why Souji wanted to undertake such a complicated prank, just to embarrass - or possibly embarrass - Saito and Chizuru.

“Bottom line is that you want Chizuru in women’s clothing at Saito’s little party here tonight at dinner? And you want her to serve Saito so that you can see if it cracks that stoic look of his?”

“No, I told you, I want to do it as a present, Sano-san.” Okita gave Harada a very mischievous look.

But there was something a little fake, or overdone, about that look, Harada suddenly thought. And that suggested something rather odd: maybe Souji did want to give Saito a birthday present. After all, in the normal way of things, a guy would be pretty happy to have a girl he admired sit with him and pour his drinks, especially if he didn’t want to ask her to do it himself. Sheesh, why did Souji have to make things so complicated!

“Okay, I understand. Though you could have just asked directly, and without the mystery.”

“Fine - although I maintain that I did ask you directly. So, Sano-san, can you find some halfway decent women’s clothing for Chizuru, so that we can gift Hajime-kun with her feminine presence tonight?”

“It’s dangerous to do something like that here at headquarters...”

“Come on... You don’t want to sound like Hijikata-san do you?”

That evening, Yamazaki and Shimada were given a very unusual assignment: they were to guard the approaches to the small room used for meals and meetings by Commander Kondo’s Shiei Hall faction. The secret of the rasetsu was one thing - tonight they were guarding Chizuru’s identity as a woman from the prying eyes of Itou and his men. Yamazaki was so conscious of the importance of the secret that he’d barely even twitched when Okita had told him to feel free to use lethal force to prevent discovery. He’d already been considering that approach himself.

In any event, the evening meal was graced by a charming, if rather diffident young woman. There had been no real need for Harada to go to unusual lengths to procure a woman’s kimono, but he had ended up consulting with Osen-chan regardless, and had enjoyed the enthusiasm with which she had embarked on the endeavour of finding something ‘appropriate’. Hijikata had been vehemently - and quite reasonably - opposed, of course, but Souji had already spoken with Kondo-san, and that kind-hearted man had been firm in his resolve to allow Chizuru to drop her disguise for a few hours. He had also personally asked Chizuru to assist with the party, which had reassured Chizuru, and raised him even higher in the estimation of several of the captains.

Saito had been as stoic as usual when he had first come in to discover a party being held in his honour. Only a widening of his dark blue eyes - and a quick glance at Hijikata - had indicated his surprise at finding Chizuru in woman’s clothing, although various persons present had noticed that his gaze kept returning to her while she was serving the meal. However, he had finally lost his composure when Chizuru had knelt beside him and offered to pour his drinks for the evening.

“Thank you, Yukimura, but it isn’t necessary.”

“Think nothing of it, Saito-san! Happy birthday!” The smile she directed at him had been bright and warm and entirely sincere. There had been a measurable pause before Saito responded.

“Thank you, Yukimura. Happy birthday to you, too.” His expression had been distinctly glassy.

There was a ripple of laughter, and even Hijikata had been unable to contain a broad smirk. Kondo had grinned openly and chuckled.

“Ah, um, it’s not my birthday, Saito-san,” Chizuru stammered, disconcerted.

“Seriously, Hajime-kun? And you haven’t even started drinking yet!”

“Heh - happy birthday, Saito! Here’s to many more good fights, and plenty more sake!” Shinpachi raised his own brimming cup.

“You said it, Shinpat-san! Happy birthday Hajime-kun - I’m glad I have somebody to spar with other than these old men!”

“Happy birthday, Saito,” called Harada, raising his cup in salute while at the same time ruffling Heisuke’s hair rather more vigorously than usual.

The various good wishes and friendly jibes roused Saito from his glazed state, and he reddened and began thanking people in turn. He had to work hard to avoid staring at Chizuru, though.

Some considerable time later, Yamazaki stepped into the room to inform Hijikata that nobody from the Itou faction had bothered to come check up on the Kondo faction’s drinking party. He was a little surprised to see Chizuru pouring sake for Saito, and Saito smiling at her in admiration. It might have surprised him less had he been able to hear the topic under discussion - although ‘discussion’ was the wrong term.

“The legends around old swords are indeed at least as interesting as more common folk tales, Yukimura. You are very perceptive.” Saito held out his cup for more sake, which Chizuru dutifully provided. Saito was barely flushed, and his diction remained excellent - he didn’t seem to be drunk. His next words dispelled that illusion. “I would also like to say that you look very nice - very very nice, in this kimono. And your hair. Your hair looks different than usual, but it’s very nice too.” He turned gravely to the small lantern set not far from Souji, who sat on his other side. “I don’t know why you want to talk about swords, when I need to tell Yukimura how pretty she is.”

Chizuru was speechless - and very red - but Okita jumped right in. He hadn’t had much to drink, and the situation was too good to resist.

“I agree with you, Hajime-kun. Somebody has to tell Yukimura how nice she looks right now. You know what though?”

Somehow, Saito managed to focus on him. Unbeknownst to Chizuru, Okita had been supplementing Saito’s drinks all along, so that the Third Division Captain had now had far more alcohol than anybody else present. “What ...Souji?”

“Well, I think you should take Chizuru-chan outside to tell her how nice she looks. She gets pretty embarrassed sometimes, and I think she’d like a break from the party right now”

Saito’s head swung back around to Chizuru, who looked openly concerned.

“Ano, Okita-san.. Saito-san probably needs to get to bed...”

Okita chortled. “Do you hear that Hajime-kun? She--”

But Saito was getting to his feet. He extended an imperious hand to Chizuru.

“Come with me, Yukimura. The fresh air will help you - will help to clear your head.”

Those who were still mostly sober watched with interest as Saito dragged Chizuru out of the room by the hand. Yamazaki shot Hijikata a slightly panicked look, but the Vice Commander merely nodded to him.

“Go with them. Let me know if anything unusual--or unusually stupid--happens.”

“Hai, Fukuchô!.”

Outside on the engawa, Saito and Chizuru stood hand-in-hand looking up at the stars. Saito was drunk enough not to be entirely sure what he was doing, but not so drunk that he couldn’t feel the small, warm hand in his. He liked it. In fact, he liked Yukimura. She was very pretty, but what he liked best was that she was brave, and hard-working, and kind, and respectful of others, and -

“Um, Saito-san?”

“Yes?”

“I n-need my hand back... soon. Because I need to go clean up the dishes.”

“I understand. But it’s my birthday, so it is important for me to do what I want.”

Behind them, in the shadows, Yamazaki coughed politely. Chizuru stiffened, and started to turn. However, before she could address the quiet ninja - although she had no idea what she could say, at this point - Saito gently took her face between his strong, lean hands, and kissed her on the lips. Then he drew back, looking startled.

“Oh...”

He tastes of sake, Chizuru thought wildly. Well of course he would, at this point. It was embarrassing, but she would have liked a longer kiss. Her heart was beating wildly - Saito-san had kissed her! Although she wasn’t sure that he would remember it the next day...

“S-Saito-san? Um--”

“I’ll get him to bed, Yukimura-kun.” Yamazaki’s voice brought her out of her daze, and she felt her cheeks suffuse again with colour.

“Y-yes, Yamazaki-san, of course. That seems like a good idea. Do you want my help?”

“You need to return inside, Yukimura-kun. You are too visible out here.”

“Did I tell you that you look pretty?” Saito demanded suddenly. “Because you do. As pretty as an old period, Bizen-crafted short-sword - the kind worn to court as an honour piece. And you’re even practical, too!”

He was staring at her intently, as if she should understand everything.

“Um, yes, Saito-san!”

There was a gasp, and then Souji collapsed against the open shoji door frame in helpless laughter. Harada stood behind him, and Nagakura too.

“Th-there you have it, Ch-Chizuru-chan! Saito thinks you are as pretty and as useful as a sword! Wh-What more can a man say?”

Saito frowned, apparently concerned - or annoyed - with all the people. Despite Chizuru’s attempts to politely extricate herself, he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer to him.

“You need more rest, Souji,” he told a nearby wooden support pillar in serious, almost dangerous tones. “I’ll look after Yukimura.” He peered down at Chizuru. “Do you want me to look after you, Yukimura?” he asked, abruptly sounding wistful.

“Ah, well, yes, Saito-san - but first you should let me look after you! ... Because it is your birthday.”

Saito looked away for a moment, and this time he seemed truly take in the various onlookers. He slowly surveyed Yamazaki, Okita, Harada, Heisuke, Nagakura - and now Hijikata and Kondo. Hijikata had slid open the other half of the shoji door.

“Hey Hijikata-san! Guess what? Hajime-kun thinks Chizuru-chan is pretty. Cool, huh? I want to be Saito’s attendant at the wedding.”

“Shut it, Souji. Saito - escort Yukimura to her room; Yamazaki - make sure they get there unseen, then get Saito to bed. Everyone else - party’s over, go away.”

Yamazaki made sure that Saito and Yukimura had no difficulty returning to the young woman’s room. He then did his best to look away when Saito took Chizuru in his arms and kissed her. Again. It was embarrassing, especially since they both knew he was there.

“Good night, Yukimura,” said Saito. “I hope you sleep well.”

“Good night Saito-san! Happy birthday, again!”

After she had gone in and closed the door, Saito wandered into the small garden. Yamazaki followed him, and then stepped out in front of him.

“I’m sorry, Saito-kumicho, but I have orders to get you to bed.”

“I know. Ikuzo, Yamazaki.”

“Hai!” Yamazaki hesitated, then added: “Happy Birthday, Saito-san.”

[END]

@shell-senji @eliz1369 @annedey @hidetheremote @nalufever @petri808 @rainylune @soujthings @sabinasanfanfic @do-it-for-keef @nospringonions @eheartangel @cleomigadon @hakuouki-or-hakuoki @hakuyamazakisensei

PS Do you prefer to be tagged / not tagged? Let me know!

#hakuouki #hakuoki #saichi #saitou hajime #okita souji #harada sanosuke #yamazaki susumu #other cast members #impracticaldemon #imp writes #IT IS STILL FEB 18 ON THE WEST COAST!#sigh wrote too much again #now for ToD lol #hope you enjoy the craziness of drunk!saito #which has been a theme this year i notice :)

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lets-talk-appella · 6 years ago

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2018 Fic Roundup

I was tagged by @aliciameade and @acabellas, so thanks for that you two! Okay actually this was loads of fun to do because I’ve only been writing fic since like April/May so here we go:

Total 2018 Word Count: 206,438 - not gonna lie, pretty proud of that

Total 2018 Hits: 33,768 on AO3. No idea on FFN because the website won’t tell me

Other 2018 AO3 Stats: Kudos: 1921 Comment Threads: 177 Bookmarks: 218 Subscriptions: 121

Links & Titles to 2018 Works: There are 30 - literally everything I’ve done has been this year - so I put a break.

Four Sambucas - 987 words, Not rated Beca is the DJ at a popular club and she's just doing her thing when an incredibly drunk Chloe confuses her with the bartender.

Jealousy’s a Bitch... or Maybe it’s Just the German - 15,171 words, G All Beca/Kommissar interactions in PP2 (plus some additional content) as told from Chloe’s POV. Basically, an extremely jealous Chloe Beale. Largely cannon, but I added some things in the middle and at the end. Part of a series, but can stand alone. “PP3 Doesn’t Exist Here” series #1

Just a Joke? - 1,316 words, G When Jesse says something serious to Beca, meaning it as a joke, she freaks out and goes to the one person she can open up to: Chloe. Part of a series, but can stand alone. “PP3 Doesn’t Exist Here” series #2

Chloe’s Secret - 7,364, G Chloe needs to know why Jesse broke up with Beca, so she secretly goes to LA to confront him for hurting her best friend. Takes place about five months after PP2 and is part of a series, but can stand alone. “PP3 Doesn’t Exist Here” series #3

That’s When She Knew - 4,214, G In which Beca finally wakes up to realize that she’s been in love with Chloe this entire time. Much fluff ahead, enter at your own risk. Takes place just under a year after graduation/Worlds/PP2. Part of a series, but can stand alone. “PP3 Doesn’t Exist Here” series #4

Expectations - 7,801, T The immediate follow up to That’s When She Knew (this will make more sense if you read that first), in which Beca and Chloe finally admit their feelings to one another. After leaving Central Park, they go back to their apartment and Beca believes that Chloe seems to have some… expectations of where things should be headed next. Of course, she panics. Part of a series. “PP3 Doesn’t Exist Here” series #5

Spooning Looks Easier in the Movies - 2,716, G Sure, they’d decided to wait before getting really intimate together in their new relationship. That doesn’t keep Beca from being a little awkward about sharing the bed for the first time since they’ve told each other about their feelings. Part of a series. “PP3 Doesn’t Exist Here” series #6

Reality - 23,703 (listen I got excited), M Continuing the series and following the established Bechloe line, this follows Beca and Chloe as they figure out life as a new couple. Specifically, how they prepare for their first time. Smut, but more in a making love way. “PP3 Doesn’t Exist Here” series #7

Accidents Happen - 1,892, G A different take on the Activities Fair from Beca's freshman year. Or, Bechloe Week 2018 day 1 - prompt "accidental kiss."

The Underwear Incident - 3,967, Not Rated Beca Mitchell is one of the most famous music artists in America. She gets a lot of attention from her fans, which occasionally makes Chloe a little jealous... established Bechloe. For Bechloe Week Day 2 - Jealousy.

Don’t Touch Her - 3,504, T Getting drunk texts from Chloe is nothing new for Beca. However, when the messages become alarming, Beca races into action. Part of Bechloe Week Day Three - Drunk Texting.

How to Break Beca Mitchell with Six Words - 473, G Submission for Bechloe Week Day Four - Why. Angst ahead. Read at your own risk.

The Eight Times Aubrey Posen Had to Ask Why - 7,482, T Aubrey prides herself on knowing her best friend, so to suddenly not know what Chloe's thinking is alarming to say the least. Or, the times Aubrey was confused about Bechloe's relationship and had to ask about it. Alternate Bechloe Week Day Four - Why.

Five Minutes - 2,661, G Beca and Jesse have gone on a road trip meant to seal their future together, leaving Chloe devastated. She gives up entirely, hiding away from the world... but then, there's a knock on the door. For Bechloe Week 2018 - Road Trip.

Sealing the Crack - 2,215, G When Chloe's valuable good luck charm breaks in an accident, Beca is there to pick up the pieces. For Bechloe Week Day Six - Good Luck Charm.

Come Home to Me - 10,377, T Chloe dishes herself out some of the pasta, being sure to save a good amount for Beca. She chases it around her plate with her fork, suddenly not feeling particularly hungry. She finds herself glancing out the window at their empty driveway with increasing frequency. Beca really should have been home by now.

Amy’s Limit - 2,461, G This came from Tumblr Prompt - "Stop being so cute," but I decided to add it to the series because I thought it fit well. This follows the events of "Reality," and is established Bechloe. Told from Amy's POV. Pure fluff and horrible pick-up likes ahead, read at your own risk. “PP3 Doesn’t Exist Here” series #8

Fallen Leaves, Fallen Bellas - 35,086, T “It’s not true, though,” Chloe’s voice jarred them from their thoughts. “I mean, it can’t be. Ghosts aren’t real, and they definitely don’t kill people. You made that up to scare us, right?” she asked Aubrey, smiling uncertainly. Aubrey didn’t smile back. Or, a horror-themed twist on the Lodge at Fallen Leaves. Originally for Pitch Perfect Horror Week 2018.

Restless Nights - 5,706, M Prompt: "If you can't sleep... we could have sex?"

I Want to See You be Brave - 3,065, G Prompt: "I'm your lock screen?!" "You weren't supposed to see that." For this one, I did an alternate version of the "Confession Scene" following the fight for the pitch pipe in PP1. Enjoy!

Naked Mole Rats Aren’t Endangered - 4,052, G Based on Tumblr prompt - "That’s my ex-boyfriend/girlfriend.” - “Well, kiss me so they see.” Honestly a little ridiculous.

Black Sabbath - 4,783, T For Tumblr prompt "Don't do that again! You scared the shit out of me!" This is set during Beca's junior year, meaning that Emily isn't here, sadly. Enjoy!

Dangerous - 5,307, M A spin-off on the last motorcycle prompt. This is pure smut, actually no plot whatsoever but with the added motorcycle imagery from the last chapter. So, yeah. If you don't want to taint the motorcycle fic, look away now! I also want to give a shout-out to Redlance's excellent A Moment's Reprieve fic, which inspired part of this. Um, pretty NSFW stuff ahead.

The 12 Times They Said, “Stay Awake” - 10,347, T Based on Tumblr prompt "Stay awake." I low-key forgot about PP3, so ignore that. Also, if you don't want your heart torn out, stop after segment 11. Also, warning for character death. Sorry about that.

Area 51, Now in Barden - 1,555, G For Pitch Perfect Horror Week Day 5 - Alien Abduction Listen. Don't take this too seriously, because I definitely didn't.

Friday the 12th - 5,649, T For Pitch Perfect Horror Week Day 6 - Fears Come to Life. It's set sometime between PP1 and PP2, and is definitely cannon-divergent.

Shine Bright (Like Cubic Zirconia) - 10,015, E Created for Tumblr prompt "The diamond on your engagement ring is fake." Contains a lap dance and smut, so if you're not a fan, I'd skip this one. Also, the French was an idea stolen from Tumblr user isthemusictoblame (who also goes by iPhone on here).

Make Me (Where Dreams Come True) - 15,629, E Beca doesn't want to dress as a Disney princess for Halloween. But it's all Chloe's idea, and Beca will do just about anything for her girlfriend, especially when Chloe bribes her... Smut. For Bechloe Week Day 7 - Disney. So, yes. Disney-related smut. And a second chapter for the strap.

Winter Dreams (Beca’s Song) - 3,441, G "The touch brings memories of the night before, of needy kisses, of soft whimpers and sharp gasps, of lips pressed to bare skin, and of limbs tangled together; memories that make Chloe’s body heat up and heart beat faster in her chest. She stretches out her limbs slowly and takes another deep breath. The touch on her back pauses, and Chloe cracks open her eyes a millimeter to see Beca – propped up on an elbow, like she’d imagined – watching her, deep blue eyes heavy with sleep and a tenderness that makes Chloe’s chest ache. Beca’s hair sticks up in weird places and a small purple mark dots her porcelain skin just below her collarbone, a proud remnant of the night before. She’s absolutely perfect." “PP3 Doesn’t Exist Here” series #9

Real Hot Wings and Fake Hot Dates - 3,566, G “Hey, it’s okay,” Aubrey says with surprising gentility. “I’m a little nervous, too.” That makes Beca turn back to her in shock. “You are?” Aubrey nods and says, “Of course. If they figure us out, we’re not gonna get that discount.” Mitchsen fake dating fluff as a Pitchmas 2018 gift.

Favorite Fic: Yikes, mate, asking the hard questions. Probably Expectations, because that’s the idea that started literally everything else - without it, I wouldn’t be a fic author. Otherwise, Chloe’s Secret, Naked Mole Rats Aren’t Endangered, Friday the 12th, Stay Awake, or Winter Dreams.

Hardest Fic: Honestly, anything with smut. I have such a hard time writing smut. And, currently, planning my Beca Sexuality fic (more on that in 2019!).

Do you plan on taking prompts in 2019? Tentatively yes! I love doing dialogue prompts the most, because they give me room to play. I do still have 12 prompts in my inbox, some of which are from like August, so, yeah... I’m gonna do those first.

What was the best thing about 2018? Honestly, just discovering this fandom and starting to write this much. I’ve always enjoyed writing, but writing fic like this took me to a whole new level. I’ve loved it more than I can say, and I feel like I’ve gradually been becoming a better writer because of it.

What was the worst thing about 2018? As for fics? Maybe... not enough time to write? Or just pressuring myself to churn out fics more quickly than I was really able to with classes/life.

Any last thoughts for 2018? I’m gonna miss the 20gayteen references, tbh, but make room for 20biteen! Also where’s the Bechloe kiss?

Goals for 2019:

Complete and post a fic where Beca struggles with her sexuality. I’ve got a ROUGH outline and all flashbacks written!

Finish my inbox prompts because, like, it’s been months.

Maybe try creating an original work? I have a couple ideas, but we’ll see.

And because I had so much fun with this, I’m going to toss it at @chloes-yellow-cup!

#2018 round up #complete fic masterpost #my writing #thanks 2018!#bechloe #pitch perfect fanfiction #bechloe fanfiction #plus one mitchsen

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maychorian · 7 years ago

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(no) fear of drowning - Chapter 2

For @platonicvldweek, seven ficlets from (not)Shiro’s POV post-S4. Day Two Prompt: Inside/Outside. In a hidden Galra lab, Shiro finds something he cannot comprehend. On AO3: (no) fear of drowning Trigger warning: drowning, horrific imagery, minor character death

It was Lotor's information that led them here, to this hidden Galra base on the back end of nothing. No other reason ever would have guided them to this spot. There was nothing in any of the databases they had hacked, nothing in any of the soldiers they had interrogated, nothing in any of the intel the Blade of Marmora had stolen or won or earned by blood.

"The witch is particularly invested in this lab," Lotor had said, laughing as he entered the information into the pad Allura and Coran gave him to convey his data. They sat at a wary distance, eyeing him across a table, as Lotor slouched with his elbows spread taking up as much space as he could. He looked at the pad with studied nonchalance, tapping at it with one long forefinger, but Shiro could read the tension in this shoulders, the line of his back. He didn't trust them, but they didn't trust him, so it was fair.

"She has a whole network of these labs," Lotor said, pushing the pad across the table. "So many secret projects. Little pets. I'll give you all of them. It will annoy her immensely, which will please me in equal turn. But start with this one. I want to imagine her scream of rage and frustration ringing across the entirety of the cosmos."

Allura reached out with the fingers of one hand and pulled the pad closer to herself, then looked down at the data, eyes narrowed with suspicion. Then she looked up at Lotor and nodded, once. "We will start with this. If it is worthwhile, we will ask for more."

Lotor nodded and leaned back in his chair, smiling like a devil, a playboy, the cover of a magazine.

They tried to verify his information independently, but all they learned was that a Galra lab did indeed exist in the location Lotor gave them. They found no record of Haggar's involvement, nothing to indicate that it was special in any way. But then, if Haggar was trying to keep a secret, she would be canny enough to make sure that no trace of her involvement showed.

Now Shiro stood in the bowels of the empty lab, scorches on the wall revealing the pains Voltron had gone through in taking the base. The resistance was few, but very determined, and they had not been able to take any of them alive. No one to question, no one to ask the purpose of this place, what Haggar's intention for it was.

Now Shiro stood in front of a tall tube full of pink liquid, staring silently at what he saw. Inside the tube was his own face, staring blankly out at him. A perfect doppelganger floated in the liquid, quiescent and still.

Shiro raised his left hand and touched his face, feeling the scar across his nose as he looked at the one on his mirror image. He felt numb, distant. This couldn't possibly be real. It was a trick, another hallucination.

The other Shiro remained exactly where he was, staring back at Shiro through the pink liquid and the glass separating them. He did not seem to see Shiro, his face blank and uncomprehending, or at least he didn't recognize him. His chest rose and fell inside the liquid, though no mask covered his face to give him air. The pink liquid was breathable, somehow. Shiro might have thought that he was asleep, but his eyes were open.

The Shiro inside the tube looked weak, withered. His muscles had lost definition, and his face was rough with stubble. He did not blink. He did not smile. He did not seem to know that Shiro was there.

Shiro reeled internally, though he stood frozen, unable to move. He had to remind himself of who he was. He was Shiro. He was the Shiro outside the tube. There was also another Shiro inside the tube, but he was outside. He was Shiro. He was...

Other people raced up behind him, exclaiming in horror and confusion at the sight of both Shiros, the one inside and the one outside the tube. There was a flurry of movement, high-pitched instructions, a rush of activity that the outside Shiro could not quite bring himself to comprehend. He stared at the inside Shiro and could not look away no matter how much he wanted to.

And oh, how he wanted to. How he longed to look away. But he could not

One of the other people now in the room found some sort of control, a button, a latch, and the tube of pink liquid began to drain. Water swirled downward, exiting through several drainage holes in the floor of the tube. The Shiro inside also fell, eyelids fluttering at the movement, though he still seemed blind, deaf, insensate. The tube opened as the last of the liquid drained, and the Shiro inside fell to his knees, chest heaving at his first touch of air in who knew how long. And now the Shiro inside was also outside, and Shiro couldn't keep track of the differences anymore.

He stumbled back and sat down on the floor, hard, as the other Shiro rolled helplessly, limbs flailing like an infant who had not yet learned how to coordinate, how to move. The other Shiro rolled on his side, eyes staring sightlessly forward, and his mouth gaped open and shut like a fish dragged out of the water and left to drown on the shore. His chest hitched, but could not seem to rise enough to bring in the air. A high-pitched noise came out of his mouth, something terrible, horrible, incomprehensible. It was not a word. It was only a sound of pain, distress. It sounded blind and insensate, too, like the sound the lowest kind of animal would release as it died at the hands of something it did not understand.

The others swarmed around him, desperately trying to help. Calling his name, "Shiro, Shiro," and Shiro longed to respond, but he could not. He only sat there on the floor, staring at his own face. He watched the dim light in his own eyes as it dimmed even further. The other Shiro still could not breathe, could not catch his breath. His lips turned blue. He was drowning before Shiro's eyes.

Time went fuzzy for Shiro, then. He watched himself die. The other Shiro never took a full breath.

The others were horror-stricken, grieved beyond measure. Shiro registered their pain in some distant part of his body that was not currently pasted to the floor, but he could not respond. He wanted to soothe them, his teammates, his family, wanted to pet their hair and murmur in their ears and hold them close for as long as they would allow it. But he couldn't move. His chest heaved, his voice choked, and he almost believed that he was drowning, too, drowning in the air.

He didn't drown. When Shiro came back to himself, he was in the lounge on the castleship, wrapped in several blankets with Hunk sitting next to him, holding him with both arms around him as he tried to warm Shiro's chilled body and numbed soul. He'd gone into shock, they told him later, and no wonder. It would shock anyone to see something like that. But everything's okay now. It's okay.

The Shiro inside the tube was a clone. Coran had determined that, after many tests and scans. Pidge had determined that, after hacking the system of the Galra lab and pulling all the data. Allura had determined that, after studying the remnants of his quintessence, weak and faltering like a firefly trapped in a jar. Lance had determined it, after looking over the body and determining that there were not enough scars, only the one across his nose. They hadn't even replaced his arm, Hunk told Shiro, the Shiro outside, because it would have been useless.

The Shiro inside, the clone Shiro, was imperfect. His lungs didn't work. That was why Haggar had abandoned him. That was why he had been left in the lab, an example of failed science. That was why he had drowned the instant they removed him from the pink liquid that had been keeping him alive.

"I don't think he knew it," Hunk said, still holding Shiro close and tight and warm, warm, warm. "Coran scanned his brain, and he said it was like a baby's. Less than a baby, because there wasn't even enough activity to show memories of being in a womb, being born. He knew...nothing. He was like...like an amoeba. So it's okay. Don't feel bad. He suffered, but it was short, and then he was gone. It's okay. Everything's okay. Haggar was trying something, but it didn't work. It didn't work, like, even a little bit."

"Hunk," Shiro murmured, leaning into him. It was still hard to remember who he was. The Shiro outside, the Shiro who had always been outside. Right? Right. "Hunk, I watched myself die."

Hunk shuddered and held him closer. "I know. I know. I'm so sorry, dude. I am so, so sorry."

Shiro closed his eyes. It didn't help. He still saw his own face, drowning in the air.

Was he really the Shiro outside? It was so hard to tell. But here he was, in the air, breathing. No pink liquid, no tube of glass trapping him. His friend was holding him, and more friends were outside the door, speaking to each other in low, worried voices. He was here, and he was going to be okay.

He was outside.

#voltron legendary defender #leader of the pride part 2 #big hunk of love #my stuff #platonicvldweek

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ahouseoflies · 5 years ago

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The Best Films of 2019, Part V

(Sorry for the long wait.) GOOD MOVIES

43. Luce (Julius Onah)- For every subtle, graceful moment, there's a spelled-out, maladroit moment, but this movie has a lot on its mind regarding race. Naomi Watts is great as a mother whose unwavering support of her son is as admirable as it is foolish, and Octavia Spencer plays a very real type that I hadn't seen in a movie, a teacher who uses her students to validate her own worldview. The film takes a long time to judge its characters, to the point that the title character could have done none of the things he's accused of (unlikely), some of the things he's accused of (likely), or all of the things he's accused of (unlikely). The dialogue is sometimes theatrical, but thankfully, so is the ambiguity. 42. A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood (Marielle Heller)- I appreciated the deft touch of Marielle Heller--stuff works in this movie that would look silly on the page--but I wasn't fully connecting. That is, until Chris Cooper got a tear lodged in the corner of his eye and said: "It's not fair. I was just starting to figure out how to live my life." That achieved what it was supposed to achieve. 41. Little Women (Greta Gerwig)- Gerwig takes chances with the structure, and it takes a long time for that gambit to pay off. Once it does though, such as when Jo comes downstairs to see a hearty Beth, which is only there to contrast Jo coming downstairs minutes later to an empty kitchen without Beth, the reinvention pays dividends. I liked whenever the film was winking at the audience, showing its own strings, but that first half was a lot of "Amy, you're Amy, right? And the audience can tell us apart, right, Amy?" The Chalamet-Pugh scenes, to use a phrase that a Sacramentonian like Gerwig might approve of, just hit different. Especially in the scene that most directly addresses Alcott's division between obligation and personal responsibility, their chemistry crackles. Can someone please cast those two as reporters stepping over each other while trying to crack the same scoop? Please? 40. Dark Waters (Todd Haynes)- In the Todd Haynes filmography, this is an effective if weird entry: He makes the procedural, research-based parts of a legal thriller exciting while the actual courtroom stuff falls flat. And it's a strange challenge for a director with such a sumptuous eye for design to capture the flat textures of Cincinnati office space or the sacky suits of a guy who is consumed by a case. That being said, the film is a work of conscience and compassion. It's no small feat to call out DuPont by name over a hundred times. The first half moves nimbly. When it works, such as the creative montage that explains Teflon to the audience, it resists the crutches of its genre. But the story suffers from having to compress so many years in the second half. Those broad strokes affect both the supporting performances--only Tim Robbins is able to sell his character's change of heart in limited screen time--and tone. Sometimes the "None of this matters" scenes are right next to the "Maybe I've made a difference" scenes, and it's jarring. 39. One Child Nation (Nanfu Wang)- It's a cool trick for something so handmade and personal to also stand in as a story of a country. And it's as affecting as you would imagine images of discarded fetuses would be. If I sound dismissive though, it's because I don't know quite to do with this. China...sucks? 38. Ford v. Ferrari (James Mangold)- Hard to argue with the craftsmanship of a film that cares so much about its structure on a scene-by-scene level. Ford v. Ferrari is two-and-a-half hours (four hours on TNT every Sunday forever), but, if anything, the forty minutes dedicated to Le Mans could be longer. Josh Lucas nearly tanks the thing with his smugness, but the other performances are fun. My take on why the film is a guide for being a Republican is still charging.

37. Us (Jordan Peele)- Us made $70 million in its opening weekend, which is a lot for a David Lynch movie. It's amazing that a film this artsty and accusatory toward its audience (Us=U.S.) is immensely popular. The imagery of Us is arresting (and so so funny). Within the first two shots, you know you're in good hands, and my Tumblr feed is going to be full of, say, Elisabeth Moss, whose expressions are the best effect in movies, giving herself a smile with scissors. Scissors that always create a division in their "tethered" subject, that are handled by Freddy Krueger gloves that are clearly an influence on Jordan Peele, that make construction paper cut-outs that mirror the bougie family decal on the back of the Wilson Family's station wagon. This device is a thought-out visual component. But Us is all too often a subtext in search of a text. When we really start to unpack the shadow people, they might not even make literal sense. I say this as I plan a second viewing that the movie deserves. On one hand, I admire Peele's search for a metaphor for political division or homelessness or late capitalism. On the other hand, a metaphor for everything is a metaphor for nothing. 36. Richard Jewell (Clint Eastwood)- Like most Eastwood directorial efforts, things are a little too neat and fixed in the setup: This character saying something a bit too on-the-nose and biographical, those characters probably not being in the same place at the same time. And the female characters, especially Olivia Wilde's rapacious, promiscuous Kathy, would have felt out of place thirty years ago, let alone now. There's barely anything on the page for her, and, to be honest, I don't think she does much with what she was given. Once the film settles into what it's actually about though, the drama is graceful and potent. The attorney-client relationship is specific and interesting, and in a less loaded year, Paul Walter Hauser and Sam Rockwell would be clearing their mantles. Hauser, in particular, is great, free of any of the vanity that might go into making Jewell more perceptive or self-aware. 35. The Peanut Butter Falcon (Tyler Nilson and Michael Schwartz)- Derivative of even something like Mud from a few years ago, poisoned by an abrupt ending, but ultimately sweet as hell. Shia and Dakota play off each other with Movie Star fireworks, so the film kicks into a different gear when they're together. The scene in which LaBoeuf stands at the Salt Water Redneck's screen door is a heartbreaker. 34. Pain and Glory (Pedro Almodovar)- A little less formally inventive than I was expecting, Pain and Glory is mostly good and sometimes great, especially in the heartbreaking Federico sequence. In another mother-son story, one that brings up the word "autofiction" without prompting, Banderas is even styled to look like Almodovar. This might be his first "old man" role, and he wears it well. 33. Where’s My Roy Cohn? (Matt Trynauer)- The Donald Trump section, the one that all of Cohn's situational morality and empty power-grubbing had been leading to all along, is illuminating because it goes deep into specific deals. (And because the relationship is recent enough for the interview subjects to have first-hand knowledge.) I wish that Trynauer had slowed down that much elsewhere--especially to get to the bottom of the frog collection. But if the object is to get you to go, "What an asshole," then mission accomplished. 32. The Lighthouse (Robert Eggers)- Eggers lays the doubling on pretty thick in the last half-hour, but he goes to great lengths to make this like nothing you've ever seen or heard before otherwise. He's a filmmaker who cares deeply about the composed image on a shot by shot and possibly a frame by frame level. The Lighthouse was less thematically rich than its predecessor, but I'm pretty sure I felt as confined and unnerved (and as tickled by the salty dialogue) as I was supposed to. 31. Amazing Grace (Sydney Pollack and Alan Elliot)- Amazing Grace is one of the best reviewed movies of the year, in part because no one is going to say that listening to Aretha Franklin sing is a bad experience. It's not. But she's stationary as a performer, and I would be lying if I said that the movie didn't get tedious. In its best moments though, one of which is Aretha's dad wiping sweat off her face while she ignores him and plays the piano, it's high, high art. 30. The Inventor: Out for Blood in Silicon Valley (Alex Gibney)- A typically solid Gibney effort: never boring, articulate in its aims, poised to expose fraud for the public good. The film builds quite a bit of momentum as it gauges Elizabeth Holmes on the scale of American showmanship and Silicon Valley's fake-it-till-you-make-it ethos, and its strangest moments are its best. (See: The C.E.O. and C.O.O. giddily jumping on a bounce house because one of their two hundred tests got approved by the FDA.) I like that no one explicitly comments on Holmes's looks, using words like "captivating" or "presence" instead, letting her undue influence on men hang over the proceedings the same way it did in real life. There's a lot left unsaid about how she might have been held back but then pushed forward, underestimated until she was overestimated, because of the lack of women in her field. At the same time, the film repeats itself and ties itself into knots by insisting that Holmes is a complicated figure. She's a person so driven by a desire for greatness that she can't listen to reason or admit defeat. Are we sure that's revolutionary or unique? 29. Dragged Across Concrete (S. Craig Zahler)- A) All of S. Craig Zahler's movies are above average in execution and downright special in aspiration. B) All of S. Craig Zahler's movies are too long. C) If S. Craig Zahler's movies were not long, they would not be special.The guy keeps introducing characters and threads, but each one is interesting, and I keep rolling with him. (Until the Jennifer Carpenter subplot, which is ten minutes of emotional manipulation.) That same critical tangle extends to the idea of whether or not this movie endorses the racism that it depicts. I thought it did until I didn't, and maybe that wishy-washiness--dingy, dingy wishy-washiness--is what I'm supposed to feel. 28. Honey Boy (Alma Har’el)- Honey Boy isn't much of a movie, but it is an exorcism. Especially in the Lucas Hedges rehab arc that we've seen a million times, the story is thin. The film's reason to exist is emotional catharsis though, and it has that in spades. It's worth seeing for the traumatic three-way phone conversation alone. Hedges banks another good performance in what is basically a Shia impression: falsely gruff voice, t-shirt collar in mouth, crew socks peeking out of combat boots. But what LaBoeuf himself is doing is a force of nature. His performance in American Honey was my previous favorite, and he taps into the inverse of that charisma here: seductive in the former, repellent in Honey Boy. Most people can play insecure motormouths, and most people can evince pain. But to play a person who talks non-stop as a coping mechanism for pain, and getting across to the viewer that even the character knows he's not good at such a thing? Those are some shades of gray.

27. Once Upon a Time...in Hollywood (Quentin Tarantino)- Tarantino's best film, Inglourious Basterds, is gauged for maximum suspense and audience involvement. This one, which is one of his worst on this first viewing for me, is made entirely for himself. I appreciate that artistically, but the film never stops--especially in the clunkily paced middle--indulging itself. Oh, I get it: It's a film about growing older and dealing with possible obsolescence, but the nuts-and-bolts storytelling is too digressive for me. That dilly-dallying is the point, of course, as the film attempts to hang on to a dying moment, luxuriating in its painstakingly recreated setting and hanging out with men's men played by actors who are at their absolute peak of Movie Stardom. It's a Tarantino film, so it's not without its sublime pleasures. Hell, I'll go back just for that montage of the neon signs turning on. 26. Her Smell (Alex Ross Perry)- Grating in a way that Alex Ross Perry's films have not been before and redemptive in a way that his films have not been before. Over the course of five mammoth real-time scenes--Perry cites Steve Jobs as a structural influence--the viewer is dragged through scuzzy, abusive ugliness right to the authentic final line. It's a rewarding experience that I never want to experience again. More than anything else, the film is an additional exhibit in the case that Elisabeth Moss can do anything. She shined in Perry's Listen Up Philip and gets a similar long zoom here to showcase ten emotions at once. She plays the part of Becky Something like a glass on the edge of a table: that delicate and precarious, useful but with the potential for harm. She screams, she cries, she sings, she plays guitar, she plays piano, and she could probably float if the screenplay really required it. 25. Transit (Christian Petzold)- The only thing I knew about Transit going in was that it took place in an indeterminate time period. And that one studied aspect of the film, the ideological rootlessness of the fascists responded to with a papers-focused isolation, is what powers everything. Manohla Dargis aptly called it "temporal dissonance," and it adds real teeth to the film's allegory. The second half becomes more contemplative and less literal though, and I think it's less urgent as a result. I didn't know quite where Petzold wanted me to go in the final moments. But the stateless throng of people waiting for their number to be called at a consulate? I know what that is supposed to make me think about. 24. Mary Magdalene (Garth Davis)- I didn't like Garth Davis's last film, Lion, because the protagonist seemed listless and dumb and weak. Turns out, Jesus Christ and Mary Magdalene are upgrades. There's a feminist bent to the proceedings, thanks to its two female screenwriters and a focus on the agency needed for a woman in 33 to spurn marriage and family to follow a whispery firebrand. Phoenix's performance is uneven, but, especially when he passes out bringing Lazarus back to life, he does a great job of showing how exhausting it must have been to transcend this world. The film kind of comes across as a greatest hits of Jesus, but so do the Gospels. 23. Sword of Trust (Lynn Shelton)- Sword of Trust, as thin and bite-sized as it is, carefully parcels out backstory and deepens as it goes. Without really forcing the issue--Lynn Shelton never does--it becomes a timely and witty story about the consequences of a society relativist enough to give consideration to even the most absurd viewpoints. Toby Huss as Hogjaws is a Best Supporting Actor nominee for me, and I am not kidding at all.

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thefutureisplywoodbikes · 6 years ago

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Harte Rates, #1

Hello. Those who know me well know I watch quite a lot of films and because I’m a nerd I rate them all on IMDB so that, come December, I can write a film of the year list that no-one really wants to read. In a bid to turn this activity into something useful/exacerbate a waste of time (delete as your opinion deems applicable) I’ve decided to make this into a monthly exercise, in case others wish to risk trusting my guidance when selecting what to watch. Below you’ll find a list of what I’ve watched so far this year with a rating out of ten. Below that will be a little additional information on each film for those of you that like that sort of thing. (I tend to rate things based on how I feel in the immediate aftermath of watching something so there is a chance I may be swayed by a prevailing mood and if you’re suspicious of my praise or damnation this may be why) Right at the bottom will be a breakdown of the ratings and what they mean. Anyway enough preamble.

Since January 1st I have watched:

- What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? (1962) - 9/10

- Rumble Fish (1983) - 9/10

- The Last Movie (1971) - 7/10

- The Lobster (2015) - 9/10 (rewatched)

- Pacific Rim: Uprising (2018) - 3/10

- Shin Godzilla (2016) - 6/10

- Sucker Punch (2011) - 2/10

- Alien³ (1992) - 6/10 (rewatched)

- High Noon (1952) - 9/10

- Gargoyles (1972 TV Movie) - 3/10

- The Favourite (2018) - 10/10

- Madhouse (1981) - 6/10

- The German Sisters (1981) - 8/10

- Fyre (2019) - 7/10

- Roman Holiday (1953) - 9/10

- Moon (2009) - 8/10

- Eyes Without a Face (1960) - 7/10

- Funny Face (1957) - 8.5/10

- Destroyer (2018) - 7.5/10

- The Thomas Crown Affair (1968) - 10/10

- A Quiet Place (2018) - 7.5/10

- Sabrina (1954) - 9/10

- Burning (2018) - 9/10

- Alison's Birthday (1981) - 3/10

- Roma (2018) -10/10

Further Details

What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? (1962) - 9/10

Should you watch it: Definitely if you haven’t already. Probably if you already have.

Where did I watch it: It was on Amazon Prime but I don’t think it is any more

What’s it like: Beautiful photography and brilliant performances of contrasting style from the two leads. Also it’s crueller and more blackly comic than you might expect from a film from 1962, in a good way.

If you like ______, watch this: Not sure really, maybe Psycho regarding the dark humour perhaps Frankenheimer’s 60′s films for an approximation of the aesthetic. If you’re a fan of Davis or Crawford you probably wont require prompting for this.

Rumble Fish (1983) - 9/10

Should you watch it: Yeah.

Where did I watch it: Caught it at the cinema on 35mm. Print had seen better days and I’d say is nearing the end of it’s serviceable life. Even with ropey sound at the beginning and a few scenes chopped up more than I’d like it was great though.

What’s it like: Looks great and has a superb soundtrack from Stewart Copeland. Full of incongruous smoke and inky blackness it’s a surprisingly and I’d say unusually seductive film from Coppola. The story is kind of absent and Coppola pitching it as an “art film for teenagers” maybe belies a lack of serious depth but if you’re prepared to relax and let it wash over you it’s got a lot of dreamy charm to offer.

If you like ______, watch this: I could maybe scratch up some movie parallels but the most apt I think is Charles Burns’ Black Hole; they share a commitment to pitch black nights and hypnotic hazy days in the visuals.

The Last Movie (1971) - 7/10

Should you watch it: Maybe. It’s interesting and has some great imagery but it’s Hopper in his years under the influence so you’ve got to put up with some really erratic editing.

Where did I watch it: At the cinema, the 4k restoration.

What’s it like: As I said above interesting with some great imagery but occasionally taxing. It’s got some good scathing moments regarding the corrupting and toxic influence of American culture and insidious decadence but the highlight for me is the town that adopts the actions of the movie shoot seen at the beginning into a perverse pseudo-religious ritual

If you like ______, watch this: El Topo maybe, but don’t expect the same level of exuberant flair that that has. Medium Cool maybe

The Lobster (2015) - 9/10 (rewatched)

Should you watch it: Definitely. Or least start watching it. You may hate it and if so you may want to duck out before it get’s really dark. Personally I enjoyed it more on the second viewing and was disappointed I hadn’t returned to it sooner.

Where did I watch it: It was starting on Film4 when I got in from work.

What’s it like: Cruelly delightful. An utterly absurd premise but within that setup it mercilessly and hilariously mocks the compromises, capitulations and deceptions we succumb to in pursuit of love or under pressure to conform and suggests the reality we inhabit to be if not equally then similarly fickle and ridiculous.

If you like ______, watch this: The work of Chris Morris, or other Jorgos Lanthimos films obviously.

Pacific Rim: Uprising (2018) - 3/10

Should you watch it: Fuck no!

Where did I watch it: NowTV.

What’s it like: Tiresome pointless bullshit. It’s a film with giant robots fighting giant monsters that I managed to asleep during more than once.

If you like ______, watch this: The first Pacific Rim, also tiresome pointless bullshit but not to quite the same extent as this. The Transformer films maybe, they’re also insufferably fucking awful.

Shin Godzilla (2016) - 6/10

Should you watch it: Meh, do what you like.

Where did I watch it: NowTV.

What’s it like: A Godzilla movie but taking itself more seriously than you maybe think it should but somehow being better for it.

If you like ______, watch this: It plays out a bit like a disaster movie with teams of experts earnestly theorising, but is also entirely ridiculous, so maybe shit like The Core or The Day After Tomorrow.

Sucker Punch (2011) - 2/10

Should you watch it: No-one should have ever seen this.

Where did I watch it: NowTV.

What’s it like: Like someone who really wants to direct music videos made a 2 hour showreel inspired by computer games, borrowed the plot from a women in prison film to tie it together. It’s woefully incoherent but weirdly effective at being consistently sleazy.

Annoying they managed to waste the time of and sully the resumes of some really talented actors while doing so.

If you like ______, watch this: Babestation Daytime, youtube clips of the cut-scenes in the early Resident Evil games, the grimier depths of 70s exploitation cinema. Basically if you're already a lost cause.

Alien³ (1992) - 6/10 (rewatched)

Should you watch it: If you feel the inclination.

Where did I watch it: Film4 I think

What’s it like: Alien, but not as good. Decent cast. Some fun moments

High Noon (1952) - 9/10

Should you watch it: Yeah, why not? It’s only 85 minutes and it’s good.

Where did I watch it: NowTV

What’s it like: It’s brilliantly shot for starters; most of the shots have a crispness in the focus that you notice because you don’t see it achieved much elsewhere. The depth of contrast is also really good. Where this really excels though is in the pacing and editing, it plays out in near real-time and ramps up tension really effectively. Also the story’s more cynical than you might expect and jars with heroic narratives of the times and with those traditionally seen in Westerns. John Wayne called it “the most un-American thing I’ve seen in my whole life”, which alone should be enough to perk you interest.

If you like ______, watch this: If you like From Here to Eternity also directed by Zinnemann, you’ll certainly like the look of this at least. Touch of Evil maybe too. And while Hitchcock perhaps fairly complained her character is a bit mousy in this, if you’re a Grace Kelly fan she’s mesmerising whenever she’s on screen here. And if you fancy another unusual western with a black-list connection, check out Terror in a Texas Town (written by Donald Trumbo)

Gargoyles (1972 TV Movie) - 3/10

Should you watch it: No, it’s shit.

Where did I watch it: Go Flow Streaming TV, it’s a channel you can get on Roku currently free that has a few gems available for free (Umbrellas of Cherbourg, Wages of Fear) nestled amongst shit like this.

What’s it like: Shit.

(Though it’s still only the second worst Scott Glenn film on this list)

If you like ______, watch this: Shit

The Favourite (2018)

Should you watch it: Absolutely, it’s wonderful.

Where did I watch it: At the cinema, and so should you while you still can.

What’s it like: From the trailer I was expecting a deliciously vicious mean little comedy, what you actually get is a more sophisticated tale of Machiavellian manoeuvring and some surprising tender moment. A pristinely hilarious script, stellar performances throughout and visually beautiful.

If you like ______, watch this: Good films. The Death of Stalin perhaps. Also, probably goes without saying but if you like Lanthimos’ other films, more so The Lobster than Killing of a Sacred Deer.

Madhouse (1981) - 6/10

Should you watch it: Eh, probably not unless you really like this sort of thing.

Where did I watch it: Amazon Prime

What’s it like: Pretty standard 80′s slasher fair but with a couple of decent special effects moments and a bit more visual flair than you normally get with these. It was one of the video nasty titles on the DPP list if that interests you.

If you like ______, watch this: Crappy 80′s horror films.

The German Sisters (1981) - 8/10

Should you watch it: Yeah catch if you can.

Where did I watch it: At the cinema, part of a Margarethe von Trotta season that may still be touring.

What’s it like: Serious and engaging; if you’ve seen any other New German cinema, or other politically charge European cinema from the late 70′s/early 80′s you’ll likely have an idea of what you’re getting.

If you like ______, watch this: Reminded me generally of Antonioni and One Sings, The Other Doesn’t more specifically

Fyre (2019) - 7/10

Should you watch it: Oh yes.

Where did I watch it: Netflix

What’s it like: It’s not an exceptional documentary but it is an exceptional story. It is the perfect antidote to the suggestion that you can achieve anything with a positive attitude and the unquestioning conflation of success with capability. I experienced perhaps the most prolonged period of schadenfreude in my life while watching this, and I’ve been an incurable misanthrope for at least 20 years. On another note, watching this will introduce you to Andy King, a man of such astonishing professional commitment and unassuming likability, that after this he likely became the world’s most eligible employee.

If you like ______, watch this: If you like seeing the affluent disappointed. Documentary wise it’s pretty standard fair but Three Identical Strangers or Precinct Seven Five may also be up your street.

Roman Holiday (1953) - 9/10

Should you watch it: If you find Audrey Hepburn to be an enchanting screen presence, yes. If you don’t, maybe not.

Where did I watch it: NowTV

What’s it like: Somewhat old-fashioned in a charming way, but also in a way that may make you a little uneasy with the exploitative manipulation of Peck’s character when viewed in a modern light. Not to the extent it spoils the film though I’d say. It looks great, makes superb use of its location and zips along merrily.

If you like ______, watch this: Audrey Hepburn, Gregory Peck or the mismatched romance movies of the 40′s/50′s

Moon (2009) - 8/10

Should you watch it: Yeah, but I’m late to the party on this one so you probably already have.

Where did I watch it: Amazon Prime

What’s it like: Good. A smart little movie that plays to its strengths and limitations. Sam Rockwell is always watchable and is on good form here.

If you like ______, watch this: Reminded me of Outland though I’ve not seen that for ages and that might be down to a plot-point rather than anything more general. If you liked Silent Running you may well enjoy this.

Eyes Without a Face (1960) - 7/10

Should you watch it: If it sounds up your street, yeah. It’s good, not great.

Where did I watch it: Go Flow Streaming

What’s it like: Good. A bit predictable in a Hammer kind of way but, refreshingly, more callous. The special effects while not exceptional have a mundane quality akin to actual surgical procedures that make them seem more realistic.

If you like ______, watch this: Similar look to Les Diabolique from what I recall of that.

Funny Face (1957) - 8.5/10

Should you watch it: Again, if you especially like Audrey Hepburn and/or musicals yes, otherwise maybe not.

Where did I watch it: NowTV

What’s it like: Pleasant, but outmoded. The celebration of the transformation from independent intellectual to model and girlfriend is a bit queasy, as is the titular song. It’s wonderfully colourful though and decent fun; Astaire is charming as usual, Hepburn reliably delightful and Kay Thompson wittily brash.

If you like ______, watch this: It’s Stanley Dolen so if you liked Singin’ in the Rain you may well enjoy this (though probably not as much). Also, I haven’t seen them but Jacques Demy’s Umbrellas of Cherbourg and The Young Girls of Rochefort look to have a similar exuberance.

Destroyer (2018) - 7.5/10

Should you watch it: Yeah, but I wouldn’t worry too much if you’ve missed it at the cinema

Where did I watch it: At the cinema

What’s it like: Solid. Maybe a bit predictable but well worth a watch. Felt a bit derivative to me, but derivative of good things; Lynne Ramsay (We Need To Talk About Kevin and You Were Never Really Here) and the first series of True Detective. Mostly fairly low key but has one particularly invigorating scene in the middle that’ll satisfy the thrill-seekers among you.

If you like ______, watch this: As I said above, We Need To Talk About Kevin, You Were Never Really Here, True Detective. Maybe Brick too. If you feel like exploring Kusama’s earlier, Jennifer’s Body is good fun.

The Thomas Crown Affair (1968) - 10/10

Should you watch it: I fucking loved it but it’s up to you. I feel mine may be an idiosyncratic assessment.

Where did I watch it: NowTV

What’s it like: Achingly cool. McQueen and Dunaway are both effervescently alluring throughout as is their cat and mouse seduction. The playfulness of the extensive use of split-screen adds to the fun. This is a film that makes polo enjoyable viewing and chess sexy.

If you like ______, watch this: Steve McQueen and/or Faye Dunaway. The films of Norman Jewison. You may also like Out of Sight, How To Steal a Million or The Hot Rock but they’re all at best vaguely related.

A Quiet Place (2018) - 7.5/10

Should you watch it: It’s pretty good. You choose.

Where did I watch it: NowTV

What’s it like: A pretty dumb premise but one that it commits to it and makes good use of. It’s an endearing and well put together little movie.

If you like ______, watch this: Not sure, nothing particularly springs to mind. Probably if you like John Krasinski and Emily Blunt. Edge of Tomorrow is probably a good fit. Pitch Black perhaps

Sabrina (1954) - 9/10

Should you watch it: Yeah, it’s Billy Wilder of course you should.

Where did I watch it: NowTV

What’s it like: Smart and funny but with the bittersweet touches you expect from Wilder. Hepburn and Bogart are great while Holden and the rest offer solid support. Like Roman Holiday and Funny Face the aspects whereby it’s just accepted that men will manipulate the lives of women as they see fit don’t really sit too comfortable nowadays within a romcom but it’s a pretty minor niggle

If you like ______, watch this: Roman Holiday, The Apartment

Burning (2018) - 9/10

Should you watch it: Yes. I thought it was great.

Where did I watch it: At the cinema. You should too.

What’s it like: Brilliant and brilliantly unnerving. And that’ll do for now, the less you know the better.

If you like ______, watch this: I don’t want to say too much lest I spoil it, though I’d say it has some of the feel of Blow Up (not the pretension though)

Alison's Birthday (1981) - 3/10

Should you watch it: Nah.

Where did I watch it: Amazon Prime

What’s it like: It’s a zero-budget, bloodless Australian horror movie from 1981 and while it’s competently put together in a TV movie kinda way, it is incredibly dull. It’s like an episode of Neighbours trying to make your afternoon especially spooky.

If you like ______, watch this: Minder is probably on a par in terms of dramatic tension. Maybe if you have a hankering for a particularly dull episode of Tales of the Unexpected.

Roma (2018) -10/10

Should you watch it: Yes, in the cinema if you can.

Where did I watch it: I saw it at HOME and if you’re in Manchester so should you but go to a Curzon if you must.

What’s it like: Spectacular. It’s beautifully photographed throughout but some of the shots it features are masterful. The sound design is superb too and even though it looks stunning is probably the main reason I’d say to see it in the cinema. And it has a deeply compassionate, complex story, that seems transparently informed by the truth of the director's life. A majestic cinematic triumph.

If you like ______, watch this: I was reminded a bit of Andei Rublev and Altman in the camera movements, Cold War in the clean naturalism of its look and maybe Nuri Bilge Ceylan in the scope of the story, though this is a far less demanding watch. But you don’t need any of this bullshit anyway, just go see it.

And we’re done. Congratulations if you stuck with it. It took fucking ages to write, hopefully it was an easier read. Let me know if you think it’s a taxing format and I’ll maybe shift to more regular updates. (Also I think that as it stands, this moreso serves to highlight the inadequacy of my vocabulary than it does the presence of any useful film knowledge.)

A word on ratings

I used to a movie recommendation site called JInni, now defunct, which had the a breakdown of ratings that I liked enough to keep using after it shutdown. See below.

10 - Must watch

9 - Amazing

8 - Great

7 - Good

6 - OK

5 - So-so

4 - Disappointing

3 - Poor

2 - Bad

1- Awful

My baseline is likely a 6, if I don’t actively regret or resent watching something it’ll likely be there. Anything 7 or above I’d say is worth seeing, 5 and below I wouldn’t necessarily bother, a 6 is up to you, it’ll pass the time. So if you feel the inclination you can obviously treat 5 as 0, 6 as 1 and 10 as 5, for a simpler 5 star rating system; I like to distinguish the full spectrum from dogshit to sublime but what you choose to do is your business.

#HarteRates

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applegarthuxjournal · 5 years ago

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UX Journal Entry - Week 11

The Good

This is the homepage for Ebay. Not my favorite e-commerce site, but a prevalent and pretty well crafted one nonetheless. As you can see, there’s easy to locate and access sign-in and account tabs, a prominent search bar, and a distinctive navigation bar to quickly move to different sections depending on what it is you’re looking for.

When using the search bar, like many other reliable sites, there’s an autofill suggestion generator based on what you’ve typed thus far, which can be extremely useful. Especially considering that in this case, it’s not just filling out the prompt for toilet paper, but also specific types, sizes, brands, or even the option to buy in bulk (which I’m sure some people must love during the current pandemic).

The search results screen is also laid out pretty well in my opinion. Rather than having a bunch of options on screen, Ebay opts to show them stacked one at a time, so that you get a better full view of all that the option entails rather than having to click through to learn more. Their filters and navigation system here is also really well fleshed-out, and covers everything from price to brand to estimated delivery times. Overall, it’s just a really basic but very easy to use site that does what it’s intended to and does it well.

The Bad

This monstrosity is the homepage for Craigslist. It’s jarring and overwhelming, trying to cover too much ground with too little introduction; I just got here, and I feel affronted with information that’s not even easy to look at or sparse down.

When using the search bar, you do still get a drop down menu, but it doesn’t autofill suggestions. Instead, it takes what you’ve typed and conducts a sort of background search, and tells you what sort of options for results you might have. In this case, my toilet paper search is met with only 10 results, which isn’t exactly an optimistic number for an e-commerce site to produce, especially for such a common item.

Then we get to the search results page, which is just as cluttered and poorly designed (in my opinion) as the homepage Too much bright blue text, poor imagery, and ultimately a lacking filter system (not that you need to do much filtering for only 10 results). Overall, just a disappointing, hard to look at, and equal parts overwhelming & underdelivering site.

#uxd #week11

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redmoonplay · 5 years ago

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WEEK SIX / RATIONALE .

Our transmedia project required us to design a motion graphic, poster, and website for Bats Theater, a theater company celebrating their 30th anniversary with a new three-play season based on the songs of Warren Maxwell. Drawing inspiration from Maxwell’s songs ‘Nature of Man’, ‘Little Things’, and ‘Peaceful Man’, we mocked up a three-play season titled ‘Red Moon: the Season of Unrest’.

This play focused on themes of emotional unrest and catharsis, and to communicate these themes we decided to use a design style inspired by vaporwave and glitch effects. We chose ‘Red Moon’ as our season title because of how visually provocative it sounded, and naturally we carried over the imagery of a red moon throughout our transmedia campaign.

We focused on doing our motion graphic first, and used its design process to work out how to mesh our design styles. Our style developed as something with clean lines and minimal detailing, emphasising reds contrasted with greys, with additional glitching effects overlaid on the video. This aesthetic naturally carried over to our poster and website; with minor adjustments by using different fonts to create a more jarring/minimalist effect with the poster and a more elegant mood with the website.

Our target audience was a younger audience (17-25 years old) as we thought that Bats Theater’s loyal customers would be older audiences and it would be good to attract new customers. As well as this, we felt like we could create more engaging content targeted at this audience because we are part of the demographic. We achieved appealing to this audience by using a clean modern art style and the jarring/eye-catching glitch aesthetic.

The user journey we plotted out started with using our motion graphics to promote a digital presence (the more ‘abstract’ motion graphic on Instagram – where audiences value aesthetically-pleasing media, and the more ‘character-centered’ motion graphic on Facebook/Youtube – to attract by an engaging theme). Our poster would promote a physical presence, placed at bus-stops or poster walls. These advertisements would prompt those that are interested to go to the website, where all the information on the season, ticketing, Bats Theater, and Warren Maxwell would be available. The website would persuade would-be audiences to buy tickets and attend the show(s).

Our resulting transmedia campaign is something we can be proud of. We learnt a lot by motivating each other as a team, and using this project as an opportunity to develop our Aftereffects skills, drawing skills, and grid system knowledge. If there was something we would change about our design process were we to revisit it, we would say clarifying our narrative earlier would have left us more time to focus on the actual creation of each piece of transmedia.

However, the quality with which we managed to produce on all three items in the time constraints we had exceeded both our expectations and we can definitely say our efforts were worthwhile.

#01.

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spineandprose · 7 years ago

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If | December 2017

Happy last month of the year, friends! I hope this finds you well and rested, enjoying the gifts of this season through the love of family and friends.

How did you enjoy our book for this month, Amy Carmichael’s If? I’ll share my thoughts below, but I’m excited to read your insights!

I’ve broken out my thoughts to follow the three parts of the book she outlined.

Part I: Defining Calvary Love This first section provided necessary groundwork for my reading of parts two and three. She laid out the expectation of how to be thinking while reading the rest of her book. Since the majority of her thoughts center around the idea of Calvary love, she explains what that means in three parts here: spiritual, human relationships, and creation/knowledge.

Knowing Calvary love in a spiritual sense is mentioned throughout the second paragraph. She references that “the room where we are, with its furniture and books and flowers, seems less ‘present’ than His presence.” How we understand Calvary love through human relationships is explained in the third paragraph; “the dear human love about us…Can we ever cease to wonder at the love of our companions?” She describes how Calvary love is displayed in creation and our understanding of the world in the final paragraph by saying, “…it is given to us to look up through the blue air and see the love of God. And yet, after all, how little we see!”

This prompted me to answer in my own words: What is Calvary love? I felt if I didn’t nail that down, I would miss out on the fullness of Part II. I came up with: Calvary love is Christ humbling Himself under God’s will and dying for my life. He is the Risen King who took my sin and gave me His righteous, that I may be adopted as a child of God. As a read through section two, it was helpful at different points to come back to that definition of sorts to help me to understand the If statements more clearly. I’m curious: how would you describe the Calvary love Amy talks about?

I got hung up a bit on the “...then I know nothing of Calvary love” phrase, and so was thankful that in Part I she braced the reader and explained why she left the phrase as is. I found Acts 20:24 to be helpful in keeping my mind on track:

ESV: But I do not account my life of any value nor as precious to myself, if only I may finish my course and the ministry that I received from the Lord Jesus, to testify to the gospel of the grace of God.

NIV: However, I consider my life worth nothing to me; my only aim is to finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me—the task of testifying to the good news of God’s grace.

How did you help yourself understand the phrase “...then I know nothing of Calvary love?”

Part II: The If Statements I was glad Amy mentioned in the intro that these If statements were not intended to be read one right after the other. Even though I did read line by line, it took me several sittings to get through, so I feel I honored her request in a way. :) For me, it was a lot to take in. And at first pass, it was so difficult to read because of the constant sin it brought up. It felt like a beating down and a works-based salvation. Aren’t you good enough to know how to act? Nope. I am not good enough. That’s why I need Jesus to rescue me.

Overall, there were twelve If statements that stood out to me. I will just share four here. What If statements stood out to you?

If I do not give a friend “the benefit of the doubt,” but put the worst construction instead of the best on what is said or done, then I know nothing of Calvary love. In short: grace, friends. Kyle and I talk a lot about this—to think the best of one another—as miscommunications, unintentional shortcomings, and forgetfulness can weave its way into marriage (because we are imperfect, selfish, and sinful humans). As such, we then want to intentionally weave grace into our marriage by the reminder and growing habit to “think the best of each other.”

If a sudden jar can cause me to speak an impatient, unloving word, then I know nothing of Calvary love. For a cup brimful of sweet water can not spill even one drop of bitter water however suddenly jolted. For friends and family that know me well, you know this is a big struggle of mine. I read this If statement during a time when my words were so continually unkind, and it was helpful in pulling me back into speaking only words that benefit. (Ephesians 4:20-32, James 3:6, and Hebrews 4:15-16 have been helpful for me as well.)

If I say, “Yes, I forgive, but I cannot forget, as though the God who twice day washes all the sands on all the shores of all the world, could not wash such memories from my mind, then I know nothing of Calvary love. I don’t have any instance that comes to mind when I read this, but I just loved the imagery.

If I ask to be delivered from trial rather than for deliverance out of it, to the praise of His glory; if I forget that the way of the Cross leads to the Cross and not to a bank of flowers; if I regulate my life on these lines, or even unconsciously my thinking, so that I am surprised when the way is rough, and think it strange, though the word is, “Think it not strange,” “Count it all joy,” then I know nothing of Calvary love.

What If statement would you contribute to the book?

Mine would be: If, when I have realized my sin, I do not joyously turn—repent—to Christ in thankfulness for His death for my life, if I hesitate and linger in disbelief that His grace is not for me, then I know nothing of Calvary love. I’m currently working on a quick turning, a quick repentance, a quick and joyful change of attitude when I realize my sin (most of the time, a mean attitude and hurtful words).

Part III: A Room Flooded with Light; A River Flowing with Grace Reading part three after the If statements was so wonderful. It felt like a cool breeze on a hot summer’s day. I most enjoyed reading section 2 and 3.

From section 2: “There is no need to plead that the love of God shall fill our heart as though He were unwilling to fill us: He is willing as light is willing to flood a room that is opened to its brightness; willing to flow into an emptied channel. Love is pressing round us on all sides like air. Cease to resist, and instantly love takes possession.”

From section 3: “The picture before us is as of a river. Stand on its banks, and contemplate the flow of waters. A minute passes, and another. Is it the same stream still? Yes. But is it the same water? No. The liquid mass that passed you a few seconds ago fills now another section of the channel; new water has displaced it, or if you please replaced it; water instead of water. And so hour by hour, and year by year, and century by century, the process holds; one stream, other waters, living, not stagnant, because always in the great identity there is perpetual exchange. Grace takes the place of grace (and love takes the place of love); ever new, ever old, ever the same, ever fresh and young, for hour by hour, for year by year, through Christ.”

It took me several sittings and rereading to get through this book, but I’m glad to have read it and now have it as a resource. The truth she writes is simple, profound, and stirs up beautiful images.

How would you describe the Calvary love Amy talks about? What If statements stood out to you? What If statement would you contribute to the book? How did you help yourself understand the phrase “...then I know nothing of Calvary love?”

Merry Christmas to you as we conclude this first year of our book club! Thanks for making it a sweet place to share our thoughts. To 2018!

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